#But then probably end up just fighting next to her because she can fight her own battles and win

[fancyfeathers]

So with the daughter darling of Bruce, her and Damian’s Dynamic seems to be interesting. They are both Bruce’s biological children, but from different mothers. How does he see her? Or if they interact at school?

Referencing this post

It’s a bit weird since he has never had family who were actually normal or as close as one could be to normal. Part of him wonders why their lives were made to be so different, while he was being trained as a child she was being doted on by her mother and their friends, the apple of her mother’s eye. He knows they have different mothers but they are still siblings in the end, and then her mother is his stepmother. He does not know if he envies her or pities her, she had a normal childhood being raised without needing to stress or watch her back, but then at the same time she is weak and completely defenseless, almost pathetic really.

Then again someone who has no way of fighting back has no way of having a true alternative motive, or at least no way of backing it up. So he is able to let his guard down around her and his stepmother for the most part, sure there are times where they might act out but in the end it poses no real threat. But it is because he can let his guard down around her is the exact reason why his own obsession sets in, he can lay down next her and hold her and there will be no real struggle against him, she is too scared to anything.

Then when it comes to school is when his obsession and possessive tendencies show clearly. He is probably a few years older than her so they are in different classes, so luckily she can have friends in the classroom but that is where it stops, when the lunch bell rings he is dragging her off to sit with him and he scares off anyone else, same thing with free time and there are no such thing as extracurriculars for her. Soon her friends in class just don’t see it as worth it to be friends with her cause of her brother so she is all alone besides him and school becomes a slight living hell for her.

Also I am just imagining Mother!Darling reading to her daughter before bed and Damian comes in and sits on the other side of his stepmother and being able to fall asleep without an issue.

Or just imagine Talia meeting her son’s stepmom and stepsister…

[garciaasfluffypen]

stop embarassing me! (she knows everything you're saying)

pairing: jemily x reader word count: 3k warnings: jj and emily find it very hot that you can speak italian, illusions to sexy times at the end request from this ask a/n: everything y/n says that's in italian is translated at the bottom of the post! that being said, everything was written with a translator so please excuse any errors. also, enjoy the lore drop ;)

your italian grandmother was in town, and you were quite literally going to shit your dick.

you had cleaned your apartment top to bottom roughly five times since the news that your grandmother was coming in the off chance she asked to stay at the dingy little place. granted, you hadn’t been there full time in months, but she didn’t know that. while you had a strained relationship with your father, you were very close with your nonna. she had been there for you through all the battles you had to fight against your father as a teenager, including all the battles where he didn’t want you to take care of your siblings simply because of who you were as a person. while he saw your life through facebook, that was the only access he got to you after you turned eighteen. you only kept that line available simply so he could see how your siblings were doing. and that was it. he had created such a big fuss when you came out the month before your 18th birthday that you decided you’d cut him off as much as you could. he tried to alienate you from the rest of your family, for pete’s sake. he didn’t get to know shit about you anymore.

the joke was on him, though, seeing as the rest of your family was cool with the idea of you being queer. granted, you hadn’t dropped the bomb about being polyamorous, but you figured with how well your support system in DC was going, it would be okay. you had told your little brothers about a month prior, and all they wanted to know about emily and jj was if they were treating you right. and obviously, when they could come meet them. your older brother was in the army, so it took a little longer to get a hold of him, but he promised to stop by DC whenever he had leave next so he could meet them. 

but this? this was your grandmother. it was absolutely terrifying to think of losing her. she was one of your only relatives left that could fight for you, and even though she was in her seventies you were worried about losing her. if anything, you were worried that she’d lose you first, but you didn’t want to think about that or else you’d start spiraling. you stayed alive for not only yourself and your siblings, but for her too. and you would probably cry if she said anything that even insinuated that she’d leave you. either way, you figured that you’d introduce her to them before dropping the polyamory bomb. it worked, since hotch said you could give her and your two brothers a tour of quantico this weekend and everyone except for you had been called in for a mandatory paperwork weekend.

you met up with your brothers and nonna outside quantico, slipping into the italian you had shoved into the back of your brain easily. considering it was easier to speak italian with your grandmother since your dad had never really learned it, it was something you just naturally did whenever you were around her. you weren’t sure how the team was going to react to it, but you’d cross that bridge when you got there. you got them all visitors patches and explained all your favorite parts of the building, showing them every little nook and cranny that you loved to hide in when you didn’t want to talk to people except emily and jj. making your way up to the bullpen, you felt a jolt of nervousness flow through your system. you didn’t know how your team was going to react to them at all. they had known bits and pieces about your older brother, but you hadn’t told them about your two younger brothers. that was a can of worms you weren’t sure you wanted to open around them yet. 

“nonna, before we go meet my team, they can be… they can be a little excitable.” 

your nonna shrugged. “nothing i can’t handle. i raised your aunts and uncles.” she paused. “and unfortunately, your father.” 

“you bring up a very good point. and don’t mind anything derek says. he doesn’t really have a filter.” 

“is he the one who likes football?” your youngest brother, colin, looked up to you. 

“yep. i’m sure he’d love to talk to you about it, depending on how far into the paperwork he is. and let me… let me handle the introductions, please. at least the first ones.” 

“of course, sweets.”

jj was one of the first people to realize you had stepped into the bullpen, seeing you walk in from where she was making her third cup of coffee in the kitchen. she was about to come say hi to you, but then she heard it. that beautiful, mid morning husk that you had whenever you woke up late mixed with… was that italian? she had to grab onto the counter to stop her knees from buckling as you talked to who she only could assume was your grandmother, since you had been talking about her all week leading up to today. she wasn’t sure who the two younger boys were with you, but she was sure she’d find out shortly. the keurig beeped, shaking her out of her thoughts as she turned around to grab her coffee, a stirrer going in seconds later. 

she felt a wave of want go through her body, and she had to physically stop herself from going over to you and ravishing you then and there in front of everyone you had spent the past five years working next to. she knew it was hot when emily spoke in other languages, but hearing you speak so fluently and so carefree, with that giant smile on your face? it was one of the hottest things she had ever seen you do. granted, a lot of the things you did were hot, but this? this took the cake. jj took some cool water from the sink and rubbed it on her cheeks, knowing all too well that her cheeks were most likely a crimson red from just thinking about you speaking in another language to her. you didn’t know much about that aspect of jj and emily yet, considering you only been exploring everything for a few months. she knew so much about emily, yet she felt like she didn’t know anything about you sometimes. 

“you done coffee-ing that stirrer?” luke leaned up against the counter, a smirk on his face as he watched jj. “you’ve been stirring for five minutes.” 

“have i?” jj let the stirrer go, watching it go around in the cup. 

“you seem distracted, are you okay?” 

“i… yeah.” 

while luke knew the general aspects of your relationship with her and emily, she didn’t want to delve too much into it while on the clock. he knew there was more she wasn’t saying, but knew not to push too much. but that didn’t stop him from joking around about how hard she was very clearly simping for you in the middle of the office. 

“are you gonna stare and gawk at your girlfriend or are you going to say hi?” 

“i will, i just…”

luke smiled. “i see. go to the bathroom for a sec, i’ll cover you.” 

jj scrunched her face as luke started laughing. “ew. you pervert.” she jokingly punched him in the arm. “it’s just… they speak italian.” 

“okay… doesn't emily speak italian?”

“that’s different. she’s not… she’s not them.” 

meanwhile, you had started to make your rounds, slowly introducing your nonna to your team. she found everyone quite charming, and it relaxed you quite a bit knowing that they all made a good impression. even hotch came out of his office, introducing himself and engaging in the conversations. it was nice, introducing one of the most important people in your life to your found family. the next part, however, was telling your nonna about emily and jj. colin seemed to catch on very quickly when he caught jj staring, but didn’t want to say anything in case your nonna didn’t know, but he would definitely be facetime you tomorrow to talk about it. the longer you talked with your team, the more you realized you were subconsciously searching for jj the whole time. emily was at her desk, but jj was nowhere to be found. which was unlike her, unless she had taken a late lunch. which would also be unlike her. 

“y/n!” penelope’s voice carried through the bullpen as she walked out of the round table room, smiling and bringing you in for a hug the second she got next to you. “i thought you weren’t coming in today? and ms ruthie! it’s so lovely to see you again!” 

you visibly relaxed at her touch, “hotch said i could show my nonna and brothers around today.” 

“it’s lovely to see you again too, penelope. did you dye your hair?”

“i did. just filled my roots in a little bit.” penelope chuckled. “nothing too crazy, don’t worry nonna.” 

emily stood up, a smile on her face as she walked over to introduce herself. “you said she was italian, right?”

“yep!” 

“ciao signora, piacere di conoscerti!” 

“she speaks italian?” your grandmother looked over to you, excitement in her eyes. “che emozione.”

“i do, i lived in italy as a teen.” emily smiled. “prentiss. emily. emily prentiss.” she held her hand out. 

“è una da tenersi stretta, ed è anche carina!” your grandma raised her eyebrows at you. “she speaks italian!” 

you couldn’t help but blush. “nonna! mi metti in imbarazzo.” 

“oh hush, i’m not embarrassing you!”

“considerando che lei sa italiano, lei sa esattamente quello che dici, nonna.”

your other brother, justin, piped in. “y/n has a point, nonna. if her coworker knows italian she’ll understand everything you’re saying. you’re not very slick with that.” 

“oh it’s okay,” emily chuckled. “it’s quite amusing.” 

“let me not be rude,” your grandma turned to the rest of the team. “i’m ruthie. i practically raised y/n since she was a baby.” 

“dang, sweet thing, i didn’t know you came with another language!” derek chuckled. 

“derek the next thing that comes out of your mouth better be appropriate for my seventy six year old italian grandmother to hear.” 

“i was going to ask if your girls knew about that, is all.” 

you rolled your eyes, knowing that not at all what derek was about to say. “no, they don’t, but they’ll be meeting nonna this weekend if everything goes to plan.” 

“who am i meeting?”

“le luci della mia vita, le ragazze che ho frequentato.” you couldn’t help but sheepishly smile as you caught emily’s eye. “one of them is right here, actually.” 

emily wasn’t sure if the blush on her face was any indication of how she was feeling, but good god it was sending her into orbit hearing you talk in italian. over the five years they had known you, the fact you knew italian this whole time was the most surprising. there were bits and pieces that they had been able to get out of you, but you were pretty secretive about your life before joining the bau. penelope knew most, if not all of your story since you two had been friends since high school, but that was all she knew. besides the fact that you turned her on so easily. that was a given. she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she watched you slowly try to explain to your nonna about how you were dating two girls, not just one. the way you took so much care in choosing your words, explaining everything as easily as you could… it was endearing. 

she couldn’t take her eyes off of you, not until jj came to stand next to her, knuckles white as she seemingly held herself back. your face lit up as you saw jj, launching into another tangent to your nonna about how jj had been one of the first people to befriend you when you joined the team. within seconds, the two women started having a silent conversation with just their eyes. they both felt the same way, it seemed, and they were both going a bit feral over this new side of you. although emily did appear to be hiding it a bit better than jj was. emily nudged jj’s knee with her own, shooting her a smirk that could only be read by two people. you and jj. jj bit her lip, having to physically restrain herself once again as you seamlessly switched back into italian, your eyes lighting up as you explained the dynamics of the team to your nonna. 

“so tell me again, who are you partnered with?”

“i go out in the field with either derek or matt.” you pointed to them individually. “matt’s role is unique, he also helps the IRT team so he comes and goes depending on if he’s needed internationally. we like to joke we split custody of him with the international team.” 

“and the tall one?”

“reid? he’s the brains.” reid awkwardly waved from his desk. “he usually knows stuff that we don’t. kind of like how colin knows almost everything about football.”

“oh yes, that makes sense. and what about the lovely ladies?”

“well you know what pen does, tara and jj do a lot of the interviews with families, and i always say that emily’s job is to sit there and look pretty, but she usually goes out in the field and investigates with reid.” 

“you all seem to be a well oiled machine,” ruthie started. “i’m glad you’re looking out for my y/n. they had a tough life growing up, it’s nice to know they’re supported here.” 

“oh they’re a pleasure to work with,” rossi piped up. “a welcome addition to the team for sure.”

as your nonna conversed with the team, you couldn’t help but glance over to jj. you forgot how much she adored it when emily talked in italian, but hadn’t even considered the option of how she would react when she heard you speak italian. to you, emily appeared to be holding in her need for you relatively well. her cheeks were flushed, sure, but she was also in a turtleneck in the office where they blasted the heat the second it got below 60. jj on the other hand… jj looked like she needed a cold shower. you had to hold back a chuckle as you caught tara’s eyes, who also appeared to have clocked her reaction as well. jj’s jaw was slack as she stared at you, eyes filled with lust. while your grandmother was distracted, you took the moment to squeeze her hand lightly to see if she was okay. tara took the opportunity to close jj’s jaw for her, shooting you a small smile as she did so. emily had to hide a chuckle, covering her mouth with a hand as she nudged at the blonde. you locked eyes with jj, your eyebrows raising as she stared back at you, her gaze telling you everything you needed to know. you weren’t going to go all bratty on her here, since you hadn’t talked a whole lot about boundaries outside of the house, but you were tempted. 

“i didn’t know you’d act this way, jayje. i would have done this way earlier if i had known.” you chuckled. “you got a thing for other languages?” 

“only from you and em.” 

you squeezed her hand, resisting the urge to kiss her. “i’ll make it up to you, i promise.” 

tara, picking up on the mood shift between you two, suddenly stood up. “hey, i was gonna go grab a soda, do either of you want anything?” 

“nah, i’m good. do you want anything?”

“i’m good too, thanks t.” you smiled at tara, waiting for her to leave before turning back to jj and emily. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you guys sooner.” 

“don’t be sorry, lovey, it never came up.” emily shrugged. “i will be using this information to my advantage, though.”

“what, so you can converse in secret in front of me?”

“mostly about christmas gifts, but yes.” you joined in on the joke, a sarcastic hint in your voice. 

“your nonna is very sweet.”

“she is.” you smiled. “i’m sure she’ll love to talk about your time in italy this weekend when you guys come for dinner. she doesn’t know i’m not in the alexandria apartment anymore, i figured this would be the last hurrah before i ended the lease.” you shrugged. “if you guys don’t mind driving out there.”

“of course not, baby.” jj squeezed your hand. “are you coming home tonight, though? or are you staying at the apartment?” 

you stared at jj for a second, your eyes narrowing. you crossed your arms in front of your chest before tapping your shoulder, eyebrows rising as if silently asking her are you in control? jj slightly nodded at you before tilting her head, waiting for your confirmation. you tapped your shoulder again in confirmation, making sure nobody in the vicinity besides emily had decoded your silent conversation. 

“i’ll try. i’m not sure where my nonna is staying, but i’ll let you know.” 

“i want you home by eleven.” jj’s eyes darkened, voice dropping slightly. “no later.” 

before the conversation could take a turn, you felt a light hand on your back. turning to see justin, you smiled. 

“what’s up?”

“nonna wants to know what the plan was, are we heading back to alexandria?”

“i uh… i was hoping to stay here, actually.” you tilted your head towards jj in silent explanation. 

“does she know?”

“well, she understood the fact that emily and i were together, at least.” you chuckled as you caught your nonna talking to luke and tara. “not sure she picked up on jj’s obvious simping.” 

“either way, it is a drive back to alexandra so if we want to go to dinner, we should go now.” 

“you’re right, we should.” you turned back to emily and jj. “i’ll text you guys when i figure out where i’ll be tonight?”

jj narrowed her eyes at you with a devious smile on her face. “11pm, y/n. no later.”

with a chuckle, you stepped away, letting jj’s hand fall back to her side.

“i’ll do my best.” you smirked slightly. “we have dinner plans.”

translations:

nonna- grandmother

ciao signora, piacere di conoscerti- hello ma’am, nice to meet you!

che emozione.- how exciting

è una da tenersi stretta ed è anche carina! - she’s a keeper, she’s pretty too.

mi metti in imbarazzo- you’re embarrassing me

considerando che lei sa italiano, lei sa esattamente quello che dici, nonna.- considering she knows italian, she knows exactly what you're saying, grandma

le luci della mia vita, le ragazze che ho frequentato.- the lights of my life, the girls i've been dating

taglist: @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580 @multifandomlesbianic @softestqueeen @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Graven Hearts

After being unofficially banished from the Mourn Watch, rebellious Lisbette must recruit one of her former professors, Emmrich Volkarin, to help her defeat two ancient Elvhen gods. Hurt that her favourite professor never stood up for her when she needed him, Lisbette takes delight in provoking the handsome, silver-haired necromancer, perhaps enjoying herself a little too much.

Female Rook | Age Difference | Daddy vibes | low key bratting | Hurt/Comfort | Eventual Smut

Start with Chapter One

Chapter Two

Lisbette can’t sleep that night. She tosses and turns for a long time, before finally sitting up and glaring at the wall. Emmrich Volkarin is just through that wall, no doubt sleeping soundly. He probably wears striped pajamas and one of those long, tapering night caps over his perfect silver hair. 

Her lips twitch as she imagines it. What would he look like if she went in there and got into bed with him? Scandalised, no doubt. His nightcap might fall off. 

She sighs and flops onto her back. As amusing as it is to think about, she’d gotten carried away earlier that afternoon. She didn’t want to make the professor angry with her, or make him uncomfortable. She should have welcomed him to the Lighthouse, but instead anger had hijacked her mouth and she’d said and done all...that.

Lisbette couldn’t understand why. Probably it was a mixture of her anger and hurt toward the Mourn Watch and the fact that she’d always found Professor Volkarin to be particularly handsome and charming. Poking at him, teasing him, making him glower at her. It was better that he was angry with her than pity her. She doesn’t want his apologies for how the Mourn Watch treated her. If he tries to apologise, she thinks she might scream, or sob, or both. 

She reaches for his book, Alvarus’ Treatise on the Undead , and reads a few passages, idly turning the pages. She’s never read it, but the content is painfully familiar. It feels like her childhood. It feels like home. She ends up with the book clutched against her chest with both arms wrapped around it, her eyes closed against the tears that threaten to fall. 

She doesn’t miss the Mourn Watch. 

All right, maybe she does, deep down.

But no one was going to hear that from her. Ever. 

It has been a long, filthy day in the Hossberg Wetlands. Lisbette chose Davrin to come with her, because as a Grey Warden, he’s a natural choice for the area. Then she asked Emmrich to make up their third as a kind of apology she didn’t have to say out loud, because she thought he’d enjoy the gloomy atmosphere of the place as much as she did. 

After a particularly bloody and blighted fight, she and Davrin were filthy, but Emmrich was as pristine as when they set out. Dirt didn’t seem to want to cling to the professor.

‘Oh dear,’ Emmrich tuts, looking at them both. ‘Neither of you have learned dirt-repelling charms. I put them on my clothes every morning. The dead can be so messy.’

Despite the fact that she’s resolved to keep things strictly Fade-related and professional with Emmrich, Lisbette speaks without thinking. 

‘Dirt-repelling charms?’ she asks, wiping the back of her hand over her cheek. ‘I’ve never heard of those before.’

‘The principles are simple. I can tell you about them, if you wish.’

She eyes Professor Volkarin warily. He’s smiling pleasantly at her, and they have a long walk to their next destination. This doesn’t seem like a topic that concerns Watchers particularly, and so she cautiously nods. 

The two of them discuss the theory behind the charm and the mage who invented them, and Lisbette is surprised to find she’s enjoying their conversation. Professor Volkarin is a great deal less formal with her than he was as her professor. He’s animated as he speaks, gesturing with his staff and his hands, and adding a lot more personal opinion about things than he ever used to do. 

Then he says something that feels to Lisbette like tripping up and falling flat on her face. 

‘Vorgoth hasn’t been without a dirt-repelling charm since the incident with the ink bottles and the four playful spirits from the lower Necropolis.’

The playful spirits from the lower Necropolis. They’d been her friends when she was a child. They’d played spooky hide-and-seek with her, popping out of urns and chasing her around statues. She’d never been afraid back then. She hadn’t learned fear until very recently. 

‘Lisbette?’ Emmrich says. 

She realises he’s been talking and she hasn’t heard a word. ‘Sorry, I was...thinking about the Evanuris.’

But the professor isn’t fooled. He asks gently, ‘I think you’d rather not speak of that place. Am I right?’

Lisbette watches Davrin and Assan up ahead. Her pride is telling her to keep her mouth shut. No one from the Mourn Watch can know how much she misses them. It’s embarrassing. Shameful somehow. They turned their backs on her, and she won’t come scratching at the door like a pathetic stray cat.  

It was strange seeing the Necropolis yesterday after so long. The long corridors, decorative urns, and flickering veilfire had once been home to her. The most wonderful place in the world. 

‘It doesn’t matter. I won’t be returning there ever again.’

‘Ah, so I shouldn’t ask if you...’ He trails off and smiles. ‘Nothing. Never mind.’

They walk together in strained silence, Lisbette looking everywhere but at him. 

‘I find that long walks are preferable if there is conversation,’ the professor says in a cheerful tone. ‘Would necromancy in general be an agreeable topic of conversation for you, Lisbette?’ 

‘Yes it would,’ she tells him. ‘Very welcome, actually. The group tends to be disconcerted by the ‘death stuff,’ as they call it.’

‘The death stuff is weird,’ Davrin calls back to them.

Emmrich and Lisbette exchange glances, and Lisbette is surprised to find she’s smiling. 

‘People from outside Nevarra, they’re the strange ones,’ Lisbette says.

‘Burning their dead. Heartbreaking.’ 

‘So wasteful.’

The professor speaks eloquently about his corpse whispering, and the necromancer in Lisbette can’t help but be drawn into a technical conversation about souls and spirits. 

This is surprisingly nice, she thinks to herself as they walk along. As long as they don’t talk about the Mourn Watch, she’ll be happy to chat with the professor any time, and it was comforting speaking with someone who’s known her longer than everyone else in her life. 

Hours later, they're stepping back through the eluvians, and she feels as though she should say something to the professor. 

Saying sorry was too much for her pride, so she expresses gratitude instead. ‘Thank you for coming today. I liked having you with us. Me.’

‘I was pleased to be of service. Oh, dear,’ Emmrich murmurs, and plucks an invisible speck of dust from his pristine coat. ‘I fear I’m filthy.’

‘Bathing in this place is fine, but don’t you miss the-’ Lisbette breaks off. She was about to say, Don’t you miss the bathhouses at the Mourn Watch . 

She misses the bathhouses. She misses the friends she made, and the camaraderie of being with other necromancers. She misses being among people who uncomplicatedly like her. Who don’t look at her like she’s strange or wrong or is going to get them all killed, even if they have accepted their deaths. 

For a moment she can’t breathe, as if death itself has stopped her throat. 

Emmrich reaches for her. ‘Lisbette? Are you unwell?’

If he manages to put his hand on her shoulder, she’ll probably cry, and then he’ll look at her with pity, which is the last thing she wants from people who turned their backs on her. 

Lisbette shakes her head and hurries into the Lighthouse, grateful for her masses of curls that hide her face. 

--

Emmrich can’t remember the last time he felt this angry. The mission was a success and everyone was safe. Including Lisbette. Thankfully, especially Lisbette. She had fought remarkably, one might say even magnificently, facing down the horror that is Ghila’nain without flinching. He’d been inspired, even dazzled, in those moments.

But to punch the First Warden. 

This is not the behaviour of the thoughtful and compassionate leader who he’s been growing to esteem.

That night at the Lighthouse, everyone is congratulating Lisbette on her actions, praising them and even laughing about them. Only Bellara is silent, but her silence is uncertain. 

Emmrich leaves them to their laughter and retreats to his rooms. He needs tea. 

Later, he passes Lisbette in the library. 

‘Lisbette,’ he says with a polite incline of his head, because it’s bad manners not to greet her.

He is already past her when she calls to him, ‘Is that all you have to say, Professor Volkarin?’

There’s a distinct sass to her voice. 

Emmrich stops, and then turns around to face her. How best to proceed when faced with an angry young woman who is his senior in rank, however informal things are at the Lighthouse, but who he longs to dress down as though she was still his student? 

She’s not writing snarky little essays now. She could get herself killed. 

He clasps his hands behind his back and regards her with a grave expression. ‘We made an impressive stand at Weisshaupt, but I was taken aback by certain events of the day.’

Lisbette’s eyes glitter with anger. ‘Just say it. I shouldn’t have punched the First Warden. That’s not how a Mourn Watcher behaves.’

‘I am conscious of your feelings on the matter of the Mourn Watch and I won’t speak of them, as I have already told you.’

She was being entirely too sensitive about the Mourn Watch, but he would respect her wishes even if he didn’t understand them. 

She was being entirely too sensitive now as well. 

‘You don’t have to say it. Your disapproval is written all over your face.’ 

‘You are better than how you behaved today, Lisbette.’

Her eyes narrow, and she takes an angry breath. ‘And what gives you the right to decide that? You can’t form a council and pass judgment on me, and exclude me from all these people who’ve dared to call themselves my friends. If you’re so disappointed in me, Professor Emmrich Volkarin of the Mourn Watch, you know where the door is.’

‘Lisbette...’ 

‘I’m not interested in talking about it. Either you stay or you go, but you keep your opinions to yourself, and that includes your judgmental looks that I feel boring into the back of my neck.’ 

Well, that told him. Emmrich feels his moustache twitch in even greater disapproval. 

That night as he lies in bed, he goes over the conversation with Lisbette again. Just what happened to Lisbette when she was asked to temporarily depart the Mourn Watch? What council was she talking about? 

He gets out of bed and writes a letter to Myrna. 

Myrna’s reply comes back within two days. It includes a detailed description of the events of the civil war that pertain to Lisbette and her group of fellow mages. After the unrest had been resolved, Lisbette was judged in front of dozens of noble Nevarrans, not just the Mourn Watch, who were angry about the civil war and looking for someone to blame. There was not one word of acknowledgment, let alone gratitude, for the lives she had saved by intervening. The judgment was entirely focused on the fact that she had acted without anyone’s approval or permission. Lisbette did not speak up in her own defence, and no one from the Mourn Watch spoke for her either. 

Emmrich reads the letter through again and sighs. The Nevarran council sounded excessive, even cruel. He’d imagined that it had been gently suggested to Lisbette by the Mourn Watch that she leave until things settled down, and it had been a private, internal matter, but how wrong he was. 

Thank you for reading!

CHAPTER THREE

[djarins-cyare]

Held Is The Seed for the fic asks game, please! <3

Hi lovely Caroline! ❤️ Thanks for the ask and sorry it’s taken me a while to get to it. I’m offering a snippet further down as compensation 😇

The title Held Is The Seed comes from a quote by John Harrigan: “Happiness held is the seed, happiness shared is the flower”. There’s no specific line in the fic that refers to it (at least, not yet), but it seemed appropriate because Din has always hunted his bounties alone, whereas in this fic, he’s teamed up with someone else. Still, he keeps himself relatively closed off from her, essentially holding the seed of his happiness close to his chest. It’s only when he fully opens up and shares himself with her (in traditional smutty fanfic fashion 😏) that his happiness has a chance to bloom.

It’s basically a four-part smut-fest. The concept is that they’re in a cantina (separately so as not to appear conspicuous or too threatening) to locate a potential source and get some intel. Reader is bored and drinking, and she gets chatted up by a random guy. He notices that she keeps glancing at the Mandalorian in the corner, assumes he’s got competition, and claims Mandos make poor lovers. Reader vaguely thinks Din is attractive but assumes he’s kind of sexless, but she defends his honour nonetheless and invents a few stories about him to shut her would-be suitor up…

“How would you know?” you challenge. “Maybe there are loopholes. Maybe he can take it off in the dark or if his partner wears a blindfold. Maybe he’s the best damn lay in this bar, and women tell stories about his legendary talent with his tongue. Did you consider that?” With your attention now entirely on Zabrak(ish), you can’t see Mando’s reaction to your somewhat lewd suggestions, but you can imagine he’s probably shocked. The two of you banter occasionally, but you know him to be a sweet guy when he hasn’t got his gruff hunter guise on, and you bet this kind of talk makes him blush. The one time you’d mentioned anything carnal in front of him, he had awkwardly slunk off to the cockpit and hidden for a few hours. You, however, are enjoying the expression on Zabrak(ish)’s face. It’s equal parts annoyed that you’re defending his rival and worried that you might be right and he’s lost the game. Hilarious. You need to press more. Swishing the whiskey in your glass, you take a swig and raise an eyebrow. “You wondered why I was looking at him. Maybe I’ve heard rumours. A Mandalorian in silver armour, the best in the parsec at licking and dicking. Fights well, fucks well.” You risk a glance at Mando and see he has his back to you now and is with a shifty-looking guy who is speaking furtively. The informant. You’re glad he’s distracted, to be honest. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t hear what you’re saying about him. It might reveal your desires, and since you work and live with this man, you shouldn’t complicate things. Zabrak(ish) now seems torn between erupting in anger or collapsing in tears. But emboldened by your success so far and the knowledge that Mando can’t hear, you decide to weave another false scenario to illustrate to this guy why he shouldn’t make assumptions about your partner. “And even if the helmet never comes off, maybe he’s got other talents. Knows exactly how and where to use his fingers to make a woman come in seconds. Talks so deliciously dirty through the modulator that he can get her off without even touching her. Has a huge cock and knows how to use it. And by the way, the whole mysterious armoured warrior thing is seriously attractive. So sorry, pal, you’re outmatched on this one.”

I’m sure you can see where this is going!

Din has, in fact, overheard, and he later offers to prove Reader’s speculations correct one by one. First with just his voice (dirty talk ahoy!), next with his fingers, then with his tongue, and lastly with his dick.

There’s a tiny snippet here from an old WIP challenge post taken from a paragraph near the end of the dirty talk scene. Depending on whether this gets much interest (which I doubt because I’m not tagging anyone), I may post something a little spicier later, but let’s just say Din finds an innovative use for that ridge along his shoulder pauldron… 😳

[hurricanepursonafied]

Erin Hunters: Squirrelflight needs someone who doesn't contain her fire, but match it!

Also them: *Write Brambleclaw/star constantly trying to smother her 'fire'* *Writes her having normal opinions and a sense of self and ability to think for herself and then villainizing her for it by making it seem like she's argumentative and stubborn which isn't even a bad thing but go off I guess.*

[aparticularbandit]

Called the self-sacrifice. Feel proud of that.

Gonna sit on this ending for a bit longer because there was some very religious imagery in ep. 8 with Agatha that I caught.

....

Also don't mind me bring Nicky back for Finding Family stuff BECAUSE I CAN.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for sabotaging my boyfriend's hookup with his girlfriend by filling his sex playlist with DJ Crazytimes

I (28NB, they/he) have known my boyfriend (call him C, 29M, he/him) for some 15ish years now. As long as I've known him, he has been on and off again with his girlfriend (call him T, 29NB, he/him). Respectfully, and with love, C and T are two of the worst and most annoying people I know. I want to marry them both specifically so that I can study them under a microscope like a parasitic virus.

Technically they're monogamous, but they're both hooking up with other people (myself included), usually the same people, because they have the same taste in lovers (bad). I have suggested that they give actual polyamory a try, and they reject the idea wholeheartedly. I think they get off on their dynamic, and far be it from me to try more than the bare minimum to dissuade them from it.

A couple months back, they got into a fight and broke up (again) because T (who was unemployed at the time) stole $50 from C (who works at GameStop) so that he could pay for a tank of gas (using C's car) to go hook up with another guy a couple states over. C was not upset that T was hooking up with another guy (because he was Also hooking up with that guy and knew he would not have a leg to stand on), but because of the stolen money + car.

C and I currently live together, because you can't afford an apartment on a GameStop salary, and also, like I said, he's my boyfriend. I'm making carnitas tacos next Friday, and T is coming over, because despite everything, he has nothing else to do on a Friday night. I know that C and T are going to get into a huge fight, and I know that it's probably either going to end with them getting back together out of spite or with someone's vehicle getting keyed--I'm betting on both.

Here's where I think I might be the asshole. I would really like to get inbetween them. Not in a "I don't want you to date each other" kind of way, but in a "holy shit you are both so insufferable i would like to get in on that" kind of way. I currently have my thing with C, and I've hooked up with T once in the past, but I would really like to make it official with him as well.

My plan is as follows: C and T are going to be in the same space again next Friday. They're going to fight, then hook up, then get back together again. C is one of those cybersexual "i built my own computer and run it on Linux" people, which is to say, he thinks tiktok and youtube are evil, and he he thinks spotify premium is supporting megacorporations. So, his sex playlist for T (we do not have our own sex playlist) is just an actual folder of mp3 files.

While C is at work, I'm going to log into his computer and change several of those mp3 files to DJ Crazytimes' Planet of the Bass, which I play often, and he is frequently annoyed by. My hope is that he'll realize it was me, he'll come and yell at me for ruining their hookup, T will take my side to piss him off, and the tension will get to the point where they let me join their hookup, and I can ask to date both of them after that.

To be clear, I recognize that I'm also Incredibly Toxic for enabling and encouraging this behavior. That said, I feel like I'm justified in this scenario considering C and T are both Also toxic, and furthermore, it is a known fact that I'm dating C right now, so for them to hook up, C would technically be cheating on me. I asked C's sister (a childhood friend of mine) for her take on whether it would be funny or just annoying, and she just told me that we all deserve each other, so I think I should be good. Am I being uniquely shitty here?

What are these acronyms?

[suguann]

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside. 

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in. 

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink. 

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake. 

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day. 

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp. 

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago. 

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth. 

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t. 

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies. 

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand. 

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both. 

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer. 

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all. 

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put. 

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach. 

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play. 

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water. 

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times. 

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.  

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here. 

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

[5sospenguinqueen]

Play Pretend | Charles Leclerc x Law Student! Reader

Summary: He's Lightning McQueen. You're Elle Woods. But, when Charles misses you, he makes it known that perhaps your career isn't as important as his wishes to start a family.

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Baby fever? Miscommunication.

Female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest.

2024 but some events switched around 

I'm trying to make all of these different to each other so I'm sorry that this one was less baby fever and more baby mention.

Main Masterlist

next.

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YourUserName just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes and others 

YourUserName the cause of stress v. the support systems   tagged: charles_leclerc, YourBestFriend

6,883 comments

User1 i love how all her captions ft her degree are legal themed 

charles_leclerc ❤️💛

charles_leclerc mon ange, what are you doing in that second photo

→ YourUserName it’s probably best you don’t know, char

→ YourBestFriend cocktails were involved

→ charles_leclerc this is why i don’t like leaving her with you 

→ YourBestFriend cry me a river, vroom vroom boy 

lilymhe i still think i would be a better support system than charles

→ YourUserName and i fully agree. let’s run away together

→ alex_albon whoa, whoa, whoa. get your own girlfriend

→ charles_leclerc she already has her own girlfriend! 

→ charles_leclerc wait, no

→ User2 the prettiest girlfriend

User3 i swear charles and y/n are the cutest f1 couple

→ User4 they always look so infatuated with each other 

→ User5 umm, how? she's literally never at races 

→ User6 because she’s off being successful in her own way, and charles supports that? plus, she’s always snapped in ferrari merch on race days whether she’s there or not

→ User7 omg yes! when a classmate took a pic of her leaving a final in bright red, and she was easily the most spottable person in that hall 

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc welcome home baby leo  tagged: YourUserName

12,298 comments

YourUserName my two favourite boys ❤️

User8 did you see in the background of one of the pics, they have his “birth certificate” framed and it says leo leclerc-y/l/n. he truly is their child

roscoelovescoco can’t wait’s to see’s a new’s friend in’s the paddock’s 

→ User9 roscoe-leo play date when please

→ User10 not until 2025 😂

User11 but let’s all take a moment to appreciate how cool leo’s parents are. he has an f1 racer for a dad, and a fashionable law student for a mum

→ User12 haha his parents are lightning mcqueen and elle woods 

pierregasly thanks mate. now kika is going to want one

→ YourUserName and you should give her one. i need a mum friend 

User13 first they adopt ollie and now leo. who’s next

→ YourUserName oscar

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User1 the interviewer was asking about future races and charles wasted no time in bringing up his girlfriend. he’s so down bad 

User2 the way his face lights up when he talks about her. he really does love her. 

User3 oh Charles, honey, that’s not giving what you think it is 

User4 any other woman slightly uncomfortable with the way this was worded?

→ User5 lets all take a moment to remember that english isn’t his first language. he obviously meant well, and the love in his eyes shows that he’s excited about a life with y/n, it just wasn’t worded in the best way 

User6 the interviewer was so skeezy for that last comment though

User7 i feel so bad for y/n. she’s always so supportive of charles' races, even when she’s not there, and charles is talking about how he can't wait for her to be done with her degree so she can follow him around the world 

→ User8 i don’t think he meant it that way. he looked horrified when the interviewer interpreted it that way but the interview ended before he could clarify further 

User9 do we think mom and dad are fighting after his *slightly* misogynistic comments about making her a kept woman

→ User10 i really hope not but my heart says yes because he basically said he’ll turn her into a travel wife who only cares about his career but said nothing about her career that she’s working really hard on

User11 i didn’t realise how much i depended on y/n’s post race posts until i didn’t get one

→ User12 she always posts the most panty-dropping post race charles pics 

User13 i miss them already 

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User1 oh god, it’s official

User2 brb just gonna go cry my eyes out for an hour 

User3 literally half of her insta posts have disappeared because they were all charles 

→ User4 the only thing keeping me sane is that any post where he wasn’t the main focus but slightly in them have been kept 

User5 can someone check on ollie? see how he’s coping as a child of divorce 

liked by OllieBearman

User6 yes, yes. this is all very sad but now that i’m done crying, can we talk about what is going to happen with leo? is this going to be a shared custody agreement?

→ User7 how could i forget about leo. do you think they’ll see each other at child drop off or make arthur be the middle man?

User8 i can't believe they just got a puppy together and now they’re going to be co-parenting instead :( 

User9 maybe this is just a minor speed bump in the road to their everlasting happiness? (yes, i’m hoping that they’re simply taking a small break)

→ User10 may all your delulus come trululu

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YourUserName just posted

liked by lilymhe, arthur_leclerc and others 

YourUserName the verdict is unanimous… I’m stressing

3,880 comments

YourBestFriend this barbies practices law

→ YourBestFriend not long left, babe. just a couple of exams and we’re qualified adults

→ YourUserName i don’t think we should ever be classed as qualified adults lol 

→ YourMum i still can't get over the fact that you two used to play pretend lawyers as little girls and now you're actually going to be one

lilymhe good luck, y/n. you’re gonna smash these! 

→ YourUserName if not, fancy running me over with your golf cart? 

arthur_leclerc good luck, y/n/n. try not to drink too much caffeine 

→ YourUserName i’m not that bad! 

→ arthur_leclerc you cannot lie to me. i have had to listen to you after three red bulls

→ landonorris betrayal! 

User1 she’s so real for that last slide tho. like miss y/l/n you are gorgeous and we’re glad you know it

YourClassmate how do you look so nice despite being in the library until 2am?

→ User2 dude, no. that line is not going to pull the stunning y/n y/l/n

→ User3 literally, the love of her life is charles leclerc and this guy thinks he’s going to win her over with a bad line 

User4 guys, is anyone else missing the sweet comments charles would always leave 

→ User5 he would be agreeing with the last slide and telling her how beautiful and smart she is 

→ User6 how about we don’t remind her of her ex-boyfriend the day before her life-changing exams

carlossainz55 good luck🤞🏼

→ User7 not sainz being messy on main

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by pierregasly, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc there is nothing like racing in italy for ferrari. i wish we had a better result, but that was the maximum today. we’ll try again next week. 

8,449 comments

User9 did you see his interview of him on his way out of the paddock? man was in a rush with poor leo tucked under his arm

→ User10 it’s y/n’s week with leo so charles was running out there because it was time to go see his favourite girl 

→ User11 he was not wasting a minute to see the love of his life 

User12 charles racing faster to go see his ex-girlfriend who he’s wildly obsessed with than he did all weekend 

→ User13 bestie you better pray he doesn’t see this 

→ User14 why? ‘cause he’ll have to fight the urge to like it 

User15 i’m so happy that it’s y/n’s week with leo because we’re going to get the most adorable puppy pics on her story all week

→ User16 also it means that his parents will be conversing 

User17 i love that we’re all depending on leo to get f1’s favourite couple back together 

Baby Fever Angst Series

(This wasn’t due out until tomorrow but I’ve released it earlier in honour of THE MONACO WIN BABY!!!!!!) 🥳🍾🥳🍾

Tag list

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[taisgf]

hc. how i imagine my fave arcane characters in relationships ´ཀ` (sevika, jinx, caitlyn, vi, viktor, jayce x f!reader)

A/N: f!reader, maybe ooc, some nsfw, alc mention. love sevika n cait so much theyre just uuuhhghshs not a single arcane girl that aint fine asf prove me wrong oh wait u can't... I CANT WAIT FOR S2!!!! not proofread because exam szn is kicking my booty

VI

𓇼 Common dates with Vi would no doubt include sparring sessions at the gym, meaning you'll spend hours holding punching bags for her while she trains- talking about whatever. Chances are these hours would morph into playful wrestling, with Vi on top of you attacking your face in small kisses. Things might get a bit steamy, though- don't expect to leave the gym without a few fresh hickeys on your neck..

𓇼 Vi wouldn't be shy about PDA all too much, enjoying subtle, casual and comforting touches. Small pecks to the cheek, a hand on the small of your back, linked fingers. Anything more than that? She'll be too flustered, no doubt about it. Imagine sitting yourself on her lap while she's talking to someone- and suddenly she's unable to focus, get her words out right.

𓇼 Acts of service is for sure one of her love languages. The princess treatment you'd receive from Vi would only be amplified by her eagerness to show off in front of you, too. You can't reach something? She's got it, no problem. Broke something? Vi knows a thing or two, she can fix it. You're hungry? She can whip something up. Anything for her girl.

𓇼 Physical touch is definitely a major comfort and one of Vi's love languages, too. Fight me on this, but she looves little spooning. That's not to say she doesn't big spoon, too- she'll insist on it. However, it's those nights with Vi in your arms you see just how soft and whipped she really is. She isn't as tough as she seems, especially not with her girlfriend. At her core, Vi's just scared of loosing people; so having you there to hold, to feel against her skin is a bigger comfort than you would know.

𓇼 During her time in prison (assuming you didn't just break her out, I know I would) she'd spend her days daydreaming about you to no end. Imagining dates, what she would say to you, waking up next to you again after so long. You're her motivation- no doubt about it.

𓇼 Expect playful, unserious nicknames from Vi- cupcake, sugar, cutie, anything like that. She'd use them mostly ironically, but it would be hard to miss the love in her eyes and the affection in her voice as she says them. Chances are she'd use some variation of your name, too. Vi would love any nickname from you- be it silly or not.

𓇼 She's for sure a restless sleeper- in the sense she's out like a log, but rolling around so much you'd think she was wide awake. You'd fall asleep tucked into her arms, and wake up with her head somehow level with your knees, her foot lodged against your chin- whilst somehow managing to steal all the pillows and duvet.

𓇼 Vi, however, would be super overprotective when she's in a relationship- and it would manifest itself in many ways, most of which could drive you apart. Her lone-wolfish attitude could cause some distance between you two at times, pushing you away when doing anything dangerous in fear of loosing you. She's tough; and might struggle to express vulnerability to you about certain things. This means that she would keep some aspects of her life secret, wanting to separate her relationship with you from any of her vigilante activities.

𓇼 After a while, and probably an instance of you following her around when she specifically told you to stay out of whatever it was, she'd be less underestimating of your ability to hold your own. Only then would she accept your help, and hopefully you'll accept her sincere apology in return.

𓇼 Sleeping with Vi would either be the most sensual, loving and tender experience ever- or the most filthy, disrespectful and lustful one. Either way though, Vi's a giver rather than receiver 99% of the time; and it always, always comes from a place of love. Vi just wants to take care of her girl, you know? She'd love to praise your body, running her coarse hands over your skin while she manhandles you. In Vi's eyes, there's nobody more beautiful than you- and she makes it very known. You'd be reminded in the way your legs don't feel right the following morning, the nips and hickeys on your skin.

CAIT (my gf...)

𓇼 There's nothing Caitlyn loves more than quiet nights in or soft mornings in bed with her love (I'll talk more about that later..). A quiet evening in with you after the day's wrapped up is her favorite part of the day- the only time she can really, truly, relax. Picture her coming back to your quaint Piltover home- throwing off her hat and making her way over to you and just collapsing in your arms, her blue hair sprawled against your shoulder.

𓇼 I don't say this just because of that one scene, but Caitlyn looves to shower together. It ties in to her stress, I think- having her girlfriend wash her back after a long day would calm her to no end. The feeling of your hands, the water, the sound of the drops hitting the ceramic shower floor- the towel against her hair as you dry her off, the fresh sheets hugging her bare form as you crawl into bed. That environment, those little things, are the things that makes Caitlyn love you all the more.

𓇼 Another thing I can see Caitlyn loving are those really deep conversations, the moments she gets a glimpse into your raw soul. Those intellectual, honest conversations are some of her favorite times with you; bonus points if you're half naked with a glass of wine, music playing and it happens to be her day off.

𓇼 Caitlyn would be the type of girl to get grouchy and flustered if she's jealous- using her wit to cover it. She'd be super obvious about it, too- obvious side eyes and breaking eye contact until you ask her what's up.

𓇼 Your dates would be slow, chilled out and relaxing; be it art galleries, restaurants, coffee shops or just cozy days in.

𓇼 I feel like Caitlyn wouldn't be too big on PDA, seeing as she has a reputation and image to uphold in public. Subtle and cute gestures like a linked pinkie or touching legs under a table would happen, sure, but anything more than that you're likely to be met with a chuckle and a soft 'not in public, come on'. She's love to show you off, though- not that she'd ever say so.

𓇼 Words of affirmation and quality time are totally her love languages. She's a busy girl- so the time she does get with you is sacred. In a relationship, I feel like Cait has a real no-bullshit attitude, so communication's a strong suit of hers- and thus words of affirmation. You'll never doubt how much you mean to her.

𓇼 Caitlyn! Writes! Love! Letters! Birthdays, anniversaries, or just any time she's reminded of how much she loves you, away or not, she writes letters. Her handwriting's super fancy, signed with a kiss imprinted into the paper by her lipstick or replaced by a drawing of a heart. Caitlyn would be better at conveying her feelings through pen to paper, so no doubt would she be writing you letter after letter addressed to her love.

𓇼 I get the idea that Cait would just stick to the classic pet names; love, sweetheart, dear, dove. She would love being called them by you- not that she'd ever admit it. She'd chuckle, brushing you off- secretly hoping you'd do it again.

𓇼 Cait loves coming home to find you asleep, waiting up for her. She'd be the type of girl to watch you sleep, letting her eyes rake over your figure as you lie asleep at her desk or curled on the small couch in her bedroom. Speaking of sleep- Cait's a light sleeper, waking at any noise or when she feels you move too far from her. I imagine her sleeping pin straight, for some reason- the duvet tucked tight under her chin, legs straight and arms by her side. She might not be much of a cuddler when she's asleep, but that doesn't mean she isn't during the day.

𓇼 As strong and confident you and Cait would be in your relationship, problems would definitely begin to manifest as the events of the show play out. Cait would get snappy, harsh when she's stressed, only amplified by her independence. She would do her best to keep you out of everything, and would gradually spend less time with you as everything happens. Cait would always make it up to you, though.

𓇼 Just a bonus, but Cait's definitely a morning sex girl. That sacred half hour before she has to get up, just you and her in bed? Best believe she's taking advantage. Cait's a huge service top, in my mind- loving to watch your face as she makes you write, be it by toys or her bare hands.

JINX

𓇼 If you're game enough to date Jinx I feel like she'd make for a really great partner (if you can look past the pranks and obvious lack of stability).

𓇼 Jinx would be fiercely loyal, passionate and affectionate and fiery; at times overdramatic, but it's part of her charm. She's a jealous person by nature which is where her loud, harsh side could come out- but I'm certain all fights would be resolved within the day. Jinx would never mean it- it's just the abandonment issues talking.

𓇼 She'd love to keep you on your toes with pranks, spontaneous gifts and dates- hardly anything's planned in your relationship, but again; it's all part of the charm. (This totally includes off-the-cuff quickies too. Just saying).

𓇼 Jinx loves those days you just hang around her workshop with her- listening to music, talking as she tinkers with some shit you picked up from the street for her. Just having you near is enough- as if she'd ever let you go anywhere, anyway. Whatever she's making is also probably a gift for you- a manifestation of one of her main love languages.

𓇼Late night walks around the Undercity where Jinx shows you some new alley or shop are more than common- most dates taking place outside the home, roaming around.

𓇼 Nobody does PDA like Jinx does PDA. She doesn't say hi- just runs up behind you, pulling you in her arms, running her lips over your neck. It's a comforting thing for her- a way to calm herself down. After a fight, any dangerous situation, it's the feel of your skin against Jinx's calloused hands that she seeks.

𓇼 Physical touch and gift giving are her main love languages, no doubt in my mind. Something's broken? It's fixed, personalized, upgraded. She saw a trinket that reminded her of you? It's yours. It's your birthday, an anniversary or anything of that nature? A handmade gift, just for you. I feel like Jinx would be the type to draw her partner, too; leaving you small sticky notes with stick figure doodles around.

𓇼 Jinx is a chronic starfish sleeper- sorry. She's either taking the whole duvet and mattress in bed, or clinging onto you so tightly that you can hardly move let alone breathe.

𓇼She's an insecure, anxious girl at her core; no doubt manifesting itself in the form of jealousy and possessiveness when she's in a relationship. Like a lot of the other girls, she'd do her best to keep you separate from all the conflict- in an attempt to keep you safe. Jinx can't loose you too. She'd be gone, vanished for long periods of time- something you'd have to get used to.

𓇼She's a fast paced, passionate girlfriend in bed. Rough kisses, your lip between her teeth. Jinx would love to leave marks- small bites, hickeys in obvious spots on your neck, wrists. She's rough, playful yet cautious as the last thing she'd want is to hurt you. Sex would be less of a once-or-twice, prolonged event- more like quick, spontaneous and passionate quickies scattered though out the day; really any time she can get you all alone, public or not.

SEVIKA

𓇼 Sevika is crazy protective— she’d tear through anyone or anything just to keep you safe. You’re her number one priority, and she’ll do whatever it takes to shield you from harm. You’ll often catch her ready to confront anyone who steps out of line, her fierce gaze making it clear she’s got your back no matter what; and reminding others that you're firmly off limits.

𓇼 When it’s time to relax, Sevika loves hitting up a bar for drinks. She’s all about that fun atmosphere, especially when she gets to tease you and push your buttons. Expect her to lean in close, whispering something dirty while you're talking to someone else- then act like nothing happened, ordering another round.

𓇼 And yeah, she gets super jealous—like, possessive jealous. If someone’s chatting you up, you’ll definitely feel her presence. She might just slide her hands under your shirt while you’re talking, a firm hand finding solace on your ass or lower back, making it crystal clear who you belong to. There’s no doubt about her loyalty; she wears her heart on her sleeve. Everyone in Zaun and Piltover alike who knows who Sevika is knows that you're her's.

𓇼 Sevika’s all about physical touch and quality time. Whether she’s got her arm around your waist or just pulling you in for a hug, those little moments mean everything to her- grounding her though out the day.

𓇼 If you find yourself with Sevika in her office during the day, especially if she has others over, best believe she'd pull you atop her lap and keep you there. She'd love to show you off.

𓇼 When it’s bedtime, you’ll find her holding you tight, making sure you’re right next to her. She’s a heavy sleeper, but if she notices you’re not there, she’ll wake up instantly, reaching out for you to pull you back in. It’s her way of keeping you close, even in her sleep.

𓇼 Sevika has a little stash of photos of you—some a bit scandalous, definitely. She'd keep them tucked away in her jacket pocket, her personal collection of your best moments. A polaroid (if they even exist in Zaun) of you, all pretty with no shirt or bra; looking up at her. That's her favorite, for sure. Or maybe the one of you in her shower, all soapy and giggling? She can't choose.

𓇼 But here’s the thing: her protectiveness can often times come off as controlling. She worries a lot, and while you know she loves you, there are times when it can feel suffocating. Still, deep down, it’s all about her trying to keep you safe from everything she's involved in.

𓇼 Card game queen. Loves to 'let you win' but most of the time it's just that you genuinely beat her, and Sevika just doesn't wanna admit it.

𓇼The strap is HUGE good lord. In bed you're nothing more than her pretty toy- putty in her hands, weak for her touch (wouldn't we all be?). She'd love to just sink into the couch, watching you squirm and moan, beg and whine for her while she gets you off, be it by some toy or her hand(s?).

toxic wlw with sevika.... huge age and size gap...... being her pretty little thing... nibbling at the bars of my enclosure and drooling everywhere i need her so bad vro

JAYCE

𓇼 Jayce is all about being creative partners, bouncing ideas off each other and collaborating. Whether you’re working on a project or just daydreaming about the future, he’s your biggest cheerleader, always hyping you up and encouraging you. He'd find inspiration in your passion- fueling his own motivation.

𓇼 When you’re together, it’s usually a mix of relaxation and productivity. (I think it's called 'body doubling'? ADHD king honestly)

𓇼 You might find yourselves working side by side in his lab crafting something new, or just enjoying the time together while he rants about the council or rattles off his new ideas; applications for hextech. He thrives in those collaborative moments, and the chemistry between you both makes everything feel effortless and romantic.

𓇼 Jayce can get pretty insecure when it comes to jealousy. Instead of getting mad, he tends to overthink things, imagining scenarios that might not even be real. You'd notice him being a bit quiet or withdrawn if he thinks someone’s getting too close- he wants to be the one who makes you happy, and him alone.

𓇼 Physical touch, like most others on my list, is a big deal for Jayce. He loves to pull you in for side hugs or wrap an arm around your shoulders while you’re talking or pass each other through out the day. He knows how packed and hectic your schedules are; so he treasures those small moments. Those little gestures are his way of showing you how much he appreciates you, in his own little way.

𓇼 And don’t be surprised if he surprises you with little gifts or gestures. He might bring home a trinket that he'd made or saw in a shop window he thought you’d like, showing that he’s always thinking of you, even when he’s busy with his work. It’s his way of reminding you how much you mean to him- in the midst of his gruelling work hours.

𓇼 But sometimes, his overthinking can lead to misunderstandings. He might pull away a bit when he’s feeling insecure, and you’ll need to reassure him that he’s the one you want- that his elaborate scenarios and stupid insecurities don't mean anything. A little gentle nudging and open conversations can help him see just how much you care, and your touch always grounds him well.

𓇼 I feel like Jayce is a total bottom- far more submissive than people give him credit for. Look at him. He's definitely been pegged at least once. At his core, though, I feel like he's a more vanilla guy. Slow, soft romantic nights and mornings with you are more his speed; spare the odd shitty day at work where he either needs you to take care of him, or to get your permission to ravish you until he forgets about whatever he was mad about.

VIKTOR

𓇼 Viktor’s love language is all about that parallel play. He might not be the most overtly affectionate, but you can feel the warmth when you’re both just doing your own thing in the same space. Whether he’s tinkering with a new invention or you’re reading nearby, the comfort of simply being together speaks volumes to him.

𓇼 Time with Viktor is rare, often snatched in small moments away from the hectic world outside. He prefers those soft, chilled vibes over fast-paced outings. You might find yourselves just hanging out in your cozy home or his workshop, surrounded by all his gadgets and loose leaf papers. Those quiet moments are where he truly shines, sharing snippets of his world with you- quiet, spare the odd "Y/N; could you look this over for me?".

𓇼 When he’s with you, Viktor can’t help but get a bit playful and competitive. He loves to tease, whether it’s subtly poking fun at your skills or playfully challenging you to solve some problem (IDK what nerds do bear with me gang..). He’s all about that friendly competition, and it’s adorable to see his competitive side come out, even if he’s not taking it too seriously- a contrast from how cold he can be when engrossed in his work. It's special in the sense it's just for your eyes, too.

𓇼 Viktor is surprisingly protective in his own way. He might not be the type to confront anyone directly, but he’ll always look out for you from the shadows, making sure you’re safe. You can sense his care in the little things—like how he’ll adjust your scarf on a chilly day or keep an eye on your health when you’re feeling under the weather.

𓇼 Physical touch is definitely a part of his affection, but it’s often subtle. A hand resting on your back while he explains something, a lean against you as he stands, or a gentle brush of his fingers as he reaches for a tool. Those little touches mean a lot, showing that he’s there for you without being overly demonstrative- he's not showy like that.

𓇼 Viktor's got a variety of cute quirks- all adorable in their own right. He'd have a habit of doodling sketches of you in the margins of his notes or jotting down ideas inspired by your conversations. It’s his way of holding onto those moments, turning your shared time into something tangible he can revisit later, draw innovation from.

𓇼 Although at times Viktor's intense focus on his work can lead to him getting a bit lost in his projects. It might feel like he’s prioritizing whatever new hex-tech development or theory over spending time with you. However, you know it’s just his passion and dedication to making the world better, and he always makes sure to carve out time for you when it counts- just something you'd grow used to, and even appreciate.

𓇼 In bed Viktor's tame- romantic and sensual. Like Jayce, he'd be soft and slow on account of his weakness, but in no way does that mean it wouldn't be good. He's definitely good with his hands, too.

[ithebookhoarder]

Hello hi ! 🤗

Can you do a "bau reacts" when they are undercover in public and about to be found out so the reader just starts making out with them to pretend they are just a couple?

(BAU Headcanons) Making out Undercover

A/N: Mwahaha. Oh, this is a good prompt. Thanks for making me daydream all afternoon. Enjoy my lovelies 😉 Also, as a note, I'm writing the main BAU where I'm at watching it (season 13) plus Luke as he was requested previously 💕

Warnings: Mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, alcohol references, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

We know Aaron doesn’t go undercover for most cases, so this would have to be a big case to get him into the field. 

This man would be in shock. Let’s be real. He would freeze in place and try to argue for a split second until he realises what you’re trying to do and why - even if you were already together. 

As soon as they’re gone though, you’d glance up and see his usual steely glare that tells you you’re in for a scolding once this is over. 

However, you’d have to be blind to miss the way he lingers for a moment, holding you close for half a second longer than necessary. 

“I feel I should remind you that we are in the field, and whilst it may have worked, I can’t endorse it as a tactic in future. Understood?” 

“So I’m hearing that we’re leaving this off of our case report then?” 

“Agreed. I don’t need to give Strauss anything else to use to go after us and the team.”

He would roll his eyes and take off after the Unsub, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he smirks as he goes. 

David Rossi 

He’d be a little embarrassed but mostly quite smug about the whole thing, even if you were supposed to be undercover. 

“Well, I can safely say in all my years in this field I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.” 

He’d also refuse to let you apologise for your actions afterwards either. 

One, because he’s kind of flattered. 

Two, because he’s been around the block a few times and knows that sometimes you have to do what it takes to solve a case or protect yourselves. 

Three, you were supposed to be a couple and kissing is what couples do. He’s only sour because if anything he would have liked to be the one who kissed you. 

“Relax about it, would you? I won’t tell you some of the things Gideon and I had to do back in the old days. That was before all this new paperwork and guidelines, so that’s all I’ll say on the matter.” 

You make a point of remembering to ask him about that at your next night off over drinks. 

Derek Morgan

Derek is always up for anything so I feel like he’d be pretty relaxed about being undercover with you, even if you weren't together romantically. He has no issue playing your pretend boyfriend for one night, and is quick to wrap his arm around you. 

Which is why it would be such a surprise to him when it’s you who initiated the kiss. 

Derek would freeze for like a second, but only out of shock. However, you know he wouldn’t fight you on it. 

The second his brain catches up to his body he would be kissing you back, doing everything in his power to match your energy and sell this kiss. 

If anything, you’re going to have to be the one to break away once the coast is clear and remind him you’re still technically in the field and that your team is probably wondering where the hell you are right now - and why you stopped responding to your comms. 

“I’m just saying, if we get to do that then we need to be partnered up more often.” 

“Yeah yeah, Morgan. Let’s just hope Penelope didn’t see that else we’ll never be hearing the end of it.” 

Emily Prentiss

She’s been undercover plenty of times in her life and spent a whole chunk of time actually fake-married to Doyle for an op, so she’d be the most comfortable and understanding if you grabbed her for a kiss - especially if you were meant to be a fake couple. 

She’d work it out pretty quickly and would respond in kind, pressing herself against you and running her hands all over you. 

“Quick thinking with the kiss,” she’d whisper as she brushed a kiss against your neck. 

She’d also know exactly where the Unsub is afterwards too, having kept watch in her peripheral vision. 

She wouldn’t even have to break eye contact with you before she informed you, “3 o’clock. He just left out the fire exit.” 

With that, she’d be off. 

She also probably wouldn’t even bring it up again until you’re both back on the jet. Then she’d be smirking at you across the top of her drink and chuckling to herself. 

“Normally I’d insist dinner first but given that we caught that bastard I think we’re even.” 

JJ

JJ knows about going undercover and it takes a lot to rattle her. She would probably go along with the action, even if she’d stay kind of stiff for a good minute or so. 

However, she’s a good agent and knows about maintaining a cover so quickly catches on when you pull her in. 

She’d return the kiss, shooting glances out the corner of her eye when she thinks it might be safe to check on their target. If it doesn’t look like they’re buying it, she’ll turn things up a notch and spin you around so that she could take control. 

“My gun is under my jacket. Reach for it slowly if he comes any closer,” she’d warn, but thankfully you don’t need it. Eventually they leave, distracted by something else, leaving you and JJ to recover.

After catching your breath, you both take off in the direction your target just left in. You can tell JJ is trying not to laugh about what just happened, choosing to make it funny rather than uncomfortable if you weren't together romantically.  

Which means you know she’d enjoy teasing you about it in front of the others, making your cheeks burn as she announces on the jet: “For the record, even though it was a ‘cover kiss’ it was pretty good. Just saying. Maybe you should give Morgan some tips. That way he might get a girl to call him back after a first date.” 

Luke Alvez

It doesn’t matter if he’s ex-army or whatever. Undercover is not really Luke’s thing and even then, he is more used to infiltrating gangs than playing house. 

Basically, he would be surprised by your actions, despite being undercover together. Like, I can see his eyebrows hitting his hairline so fast, bless him. He’d look like a deer in headlights. 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow your roll-“ 

“- Luke. Shut up and kiss me. Now.” 

“I - ok.” 

Just like that, he’d take control, turning and pressing you against the nearest wall in an attempt to shield you from whoever was watching. He’d also be such a gentleman about it if you weren't already together romantically, keeping his hands on your waist and pulling away the minute he’s sure the danger has passed. 

Even then, he’d wait a minute before letting the two of you move from your position, just in case they come back. He’s your partner and he’s returning the favour for you keeping him safe, even if in an unsuspected manner.

“You good?”

“Luke. Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I was the one who planted myself on you.” 

“Potato, po-tah-to. Are they still over there?”

“No. They just left out the back.”

“Then let’s go, partner. Let’s catch this freak.” 

Penelope Garcia 

If Penelope is in the field then you know she is already hella nervous and out of her element. It doesn’t matter if there was a reason she was needed for this particular assignment, she would just take that as added pressure not to let everyone down.

Which is why I’m sure you’d feel worse about planting one on her - even if it does also help distract her from worrying for a minute.  

All I can imagine is her giving her trademark squeal of confusion and surprise, even if you gave her a hasty warning - and apology - about what you were going to do.

She’d be stunned at what was happening and probably takes a minute to realise she should probably try and kiss you back, or at least look less visibly startled about it. 

“I feel I should point out how unfair it is that this is permitted as ‘suitable workplace behaviour’ as we’re undercover, yet my flirtatious texts with Agent Morgan are not? I will be writing a strongly worded email when we get back, telling HR they can go shove their-”

“Pen? Hey, focus here. Unsub still watching us.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry! Ahem… as you were?”  

Also, you know that like a day or so later, once it’s all over, she sends you an email informing you that your new username on the BAU system is now ‘smoochykins’ and she will not change it until it becomes not-funny for her… which will probably be never. After all, Morgan has been ‘Chocolate Thunder’ for the last two years and is still going strong.  

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer has been undercover before and is usually quite calm about it, even if it is faking a date or maintaining a story. Still, despite having to do your jobs, you’d hate to make him uncomfortable, knowing how he feels about any kind of physical contact - especially if you're not together. 

As he says, with the amount of bacteria shared by shaking hands you’d be safer kissing … guess it was time to take it literally. 

He’d be blushing like a tomato as you grab his jacket lapels and pull him close. And honestly? it’s kind of adorable. As is the way he tries to kiss you back, even if he still takes a minute to remember how to even move his body. 

I’m just picturing the Lila kiss in season one and how he eased into that and how stunned / embarrassed he seemed afterwards. He would pretty much be like that, but with a fake smile on his face as he rambled in your ear. 

“What was that?”

“I was covering our asses. We’re undercover, remember? We’re supposed to be a couple and couples kiss. Also, I’d thought you know, genius, that kissing and displays of public affection make people extremely uncomfortable.”

“No kidding… Morgan can never find out about this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. You got a deal, pretty boy. This is between us.” 

Masterlist

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: Anon request on tumblr - "This is probably a weird request but I think Jake has really attractive hands even with the cig fingers. Just imagine you guys are hanging out and you get distracted by his hands his fingers what they do to you Jake notices and is a cocky little shit teasing you and stuff. Then smut where he finger fucks you."

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of cigarettes and smoking, mentions of alcohol and drinking, reader smoking and drinking, friends to lovers, teasing, fingering, choking, hair pulling, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, general filth

Word count: 5.8k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

"Well look who finally made it." Colby says leaning back into the couch, "Thought you weren't coming."

Your eyes move to Jake and you fight a smile until he looks at you. You smile at him and he smiles back, nodding as he turns his attention back to Colby, "Yeah, well we would have been here sooner if someone.. not gonna say any names.." he nods his head towards Johnnie, "Didn't have to smother his face in black eyeshadow to come here."

Johnnie looks at Jake and sighs, "I'm sorry.. if this is how I feel comfortable. You don't have to be so mean."

Jake laughs and turns to Johnnie, "Sorry sweetie. My apologies." He shakes his head and looks around at everyone, "Hello, hey."

"Hey." You smile and hold your hand up, dropping it back down to bring your solo cup to your lips. Everyone greets them and they go and grab a drink, coming back to join the group.

"So. What are we doing?" Jake sits down on the floor next to the couch, which just so happens to be right next to you.

You've always had a thing for Jake. You didn't think it was noticeable until you seen Kat smirking at you from across the small coffee table.

You tilt your head and she subtly nods to Jake and you roll your eyes, finishing your drink, "Excuse me." You stand up, "Sorry, Jake."

"No worries." He smiles up at you and you make your way to the kitchen, Kat, not shockingly enough right behind you, "Girl."

"Don't." You laugh as you pour yourself another drink. She walks up, turning around to rest her lower back against the counter, eyes on you, "You should tell him."

"Tell who what?" You cap the bottle and look over at her, "There's nothing to tell to anyone." You pour some soda to mix your liquor.

"I know you like Jake, and don't tell me you don't because I see the way you look at him. Even Sam sees it."

Your head snaps to her, "He didn't say anything to Jake did he? I don't want it to be awkward." She shakes her head, "Not that I know of."

You take a sip of your drink, nodding as you swallow, "Good. Okay. Good." You nod towards the kitchen door, "Let's go."

You make your way back into the living room where everyone is chatting and laughing. Jake looks up at you, getting ready to move but you hold your hand out, "You're fine, Jake."

"Thanks. I have been feeling myself a lot lately." He chuckles and you scoff, "I didn't.. no.. okay." You don't argue, knowing you wouldn't win.

He smiles and brings his cup to his lips and your eyes trail down to his hand wrapped around his cup. You've always had a thing for hands, but as weird as it may be, Jake's hands, in particular, are one of your favorite sets of hands.

This isn't the first time his hands have caught - and kept, your attention.

And this isn't the first time that Jake noticed either.

He licks his lips, smirking to himself as he brings his arm up to rest on the end of the couch.

His hand dangling right above your thigh.

You chew on the inside of your lip, trying not to give it away that you're secretly wanting his hand resting on your thigh, or as a necklace but same difference, right?

You bring your cup to your lips, teeth clinging to the plastic rim as you desperately want someone to talk to you, mainly so your attention can be hooked on something else because with the few drinks you've already had, you're feeling .. a little enticed, to say the least.

"No, guys wait." Colby laughs and holds his hand up, "Jake." He points and Jake looks at him, "Colby."

Colby looks at Sam and back to him, "Do you remember the night at the Baltimore Hotel?"

Jake thinks for a moment and his eyes go wide, "No." he laughs slightly and lifts his hand up before letting it drop back down, fingers grazing your thigh, "Don't even bring that up."

Sam snaps and nods, "Oh shit. Yeah. That was fucking crazy dude."

Your eyes move to his hand, watching as he wiggles his fingers as he talks, "That was.." he blows air and shakes his head laughing, "I don't even.. want to open that can of worms again, bro."

"No that was just me trying to call him back home." Johnnie jokes and Jake points, "Well go with that." He laughs and you look at Kat confused. She gasps, "Oh that's right. Y/n wasn't around for that yet."

You laugh slightly, "Yeah, but if Jake doesn't want to-"

Jake cuts you off and bats the air with his hand, "Nah, tell her." He brings his drink up to his lips and you try so hard to listen as Colby explains.

But the way Jake rubs his fingers together and picks at the chipped nail polish on his nails makes it extremely hard.

"So.. we were doing this ritual thing with candles and it was me, Sam, Jake, and Corey. We all held hands and I believe it was Sam.." Colby points to Sam and he nods, "Yeah, I said something about.. oh fuck. What did I say?"

Sam thinks for a moment and Jake shrugs with a laugh, "Don't look at me, my ass was possessed."

"Be honest though, who wouldn't wanna possess that fine piece of ass." Johnnie comments and you tilt your head as you laugh with everyone else.

"You're the only one allowed to do that to me, big boy." Jake winks and purses his lips to Johnnie and you shake your head, bringing your cup up to hide your smile.

Jake's fingers brush against your leg again as he moves closer to the couch. You glance over at him with just your eyes and he does the same, giving you a smirk.

And in that moment, you knew what he was doing.

"So now that these two are done flirting.." you laugh slightly and look at Sam, "What were you saying?" You lick your lips, crossing your leg over the other which leaves your calf inches from Jake's fingers.

"Yeah, okay so.." Sam sits up slightly, "So from watching the video back, I said something about any of the spirits using our energy to give us a sign that they were with us.."

As Sam continues talking, you try your hardest to stay focused as Jake rubs his pointer finger up and down your nylon covered leg.

You swallow, trying to keep your excitement at bay as you nod along to Sam's story, "That's actually crazy."

"As soon as Jake snapped his head up, the candles that we had in front of us like all went out." Colby waves his hands in front of him and shakes his head, "That was a night that I know I won't forget."

Jake laughs, "That's a night that I try to forget."

"Well.." your eyes move from his hand, that's still tracing circling on your leg, to his face, "At least you're still alive."

"How much of that statement is really true though?" Johnnie shrugs as you look at him, "The Jake I know is dead inside."

Jake sighs dramatically, "Do you have to know me that well?"

"Yeah it's kinda my job, jerk." Johnnie shoots back and everyone laughs, "You guys are ridiculous." Kat laughs and sighs as she stands up, "I need a drink."

"Can you get me one, too, please?" Sam smiles at her as he holds out his cup. She grabs it with a smile, "I guess I can."

"I need one too." You go to get up but Jake puts his hand on your leg, "I'll get it" He stands up and reaches for your cup.

You place it into his hand, "Thank you."

He smiles, "Yep." He walks into the kitchen and Colby sighs, "Does anyone want to get me a drink?" You purse your lips together and Sam reaches over to pat his leg, "You're a big boy. You can do it."

Colby groans, "Why does no one love me."

"We love you, Colby. I just don't feel like getting up." Sam lays his head back and you raise your brows, "You alright there, Golbach?"

He gives you a thumbs up, "uh huh." You laugh and look at Johnnie, "So.. are you and Jake coming to my party next Saturday?"

He tilts his head, "You mean is Jake coming?"

You're caught off guard, questioning yourself, is it really that obvious?

"Well..yeah, but you too. That's why I said.. are you and Jake coming?" You laugh slightly and he smirks, "Jake can't stop yappin' about it. So I have no choice but to be there."

You roll your eyes playfully, internally smiling big, "mhm."

Jake and Colby come out laughing, followed by Kat who walks over to Sam. Jake comes over, this time sitting between you and Johnnie and he hands you your cup, "There ya be."

"Thank you, thank you." You take it, your fingers brushing against his and you can already feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

He rests his free hand on his thigh, making sure it's in perfect view for you to silently gawk at. You take a big sip of your drink and uncross your legs.

As the conversation pursues, Jake hand slowly migrates closer to your thigh. Every so often, his thumb will rub against your leg, making you stumble over your words, but you just blame it on the alcohol settling in.

You chew on your lip as your thoughts roam freely in your mind. His hands feeling every possible inch on your body.

How his fingers would feel dragging across your skin and even dipping inside of you.

Your eyes gaze his hand and up his arm and over to his other hand that's gripping his cup, completely forgetting that you're in a room filled with other people.

They're drunk so what's it matter.

"I need a cigarette." Jake says snapping you out of your lustful stare, "anyone else?" He looks around and sighs, "Fine. I'll go have one with all my other friends."

He squeezes your knee as he stands up, looking down at you as he moves in front of you. You glance up at him, smirking as you know you'll go ask him for a cigarette once he's already out having his.

You look from him as he leaves the room, to Kat who has a smirk on her face already staring at you. You nod subtly, indicating you want her to come with you.

She gets up and you walk to the kitchen, "This is probably weird but.." you turn to look at her and sigh, "Do you ever just look at someone's hands and think.. yes?"

She nods, "Oh yeah. I think that way about Sam's hands. He has some nice ones on him. So no. Not weird at all."

"Good because I cannot-"

She cuts you off, "Stop looking at Jake's hands. I know. I've been watching you and him and I'm telling you right now, you should just go for it."

You bite your lip as you set your cup down, "I think I will."

"Tell me everything." You grabs your arm and you nod, "Of course." You smile and look out the back sliding glass door, looking at Jake who's sitting in the patio chair.

You make your way over, gripping the handle and taking a deep breath before pulling it open, "Got room for one more?"

Jake looks back at you and smiles, "I don't know, table is pretty full as is." He ashes his cigarette and nods, "I can make room for you."

You walk over, sitting in the chair next to him, "Mind if I have one?" He looks at you kinda shocked, "Really?"

You nod, "I know it's such a bad habit." You smirk, laughing slightly, "I like to have a cigarette or two when I'm drinking."

"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" Jake hands you an unlit cigarette and you shrug, "I guess so." You look up at him as you place the stick between your lips.

He leans forward, extending his arm out and flicks the lighter on. He watches as you inhale, leaning back as you blow out the smoke, "Thank you."

He smirks, "Anytime." He crosses one leg over the other and his hand lays on his shin, "So.."

You look up at him, "So.." you watch at he brings his hand up, setting the cigarette between his lips. You know he knows you like them, why else would he be cocky and use them to flirt with you.

"What if I were to.. I don't know.. say that I know something isn't a surprise about you?" He rests his hand on the table after flicking off the ash.

Your eyes move from his hand to his eyes, "Oh yeah? What would that be exactly?"

He smirks as he silently counts his fingers on his free hand, "let's say.. five. Ten if you count the other hand." He winks and you poke your tongue out to the corner of your mouth as you smirk and nod, "You're going to call me out like that, huh?"

"Call you out on.. what exactly?" He takes a drag and tilts his head, "I don't wanna say it."

"Oh you want me to?" You use your thumb and point to yourself and he nods, "You don't have to.. but it would be nice if you did.."

"Why?" You slowly tilt your head, taking a drag of your cigarette and he scoffs, "Now, wait.. you ca- no. That's not fair." He laughs and shakes his head.

You smile and bite your lip, "Your hands are very alluring to me."

He looks at you and leans in, "What's alluring mean?"

You laugh slightly and leaning in as your eyes stay on his hands, "I like your hands, Jake. They're very.. sexy to me." You glance up at him and he smiles, "I know, I do have some pretty sexy looking hands."

You laugh and lean back, "So you know." You take the last drag of your cigarette before putting it out and he watching you, nodding, "oh yeah."

He taps the table, "So.. are my hands the main attraction or does everything else get to come with it?"

"I mean, I guess everything can come with." You tease and he pretends to wipe sweat from his forehead, "Phew. I was afraid I was going to have to am-pit-uate.. ampli-tate.." he sighs, "Take my hands off or something." He laughs at himself, "Whatever that term is."

"Amputate?" You raise your brows and laugh, "oh, Jake."

"Hey.. Don't make fun of me." He points and you bite your lip to hide your smile and he shakes his head, "And stop doing that too."

"Doing what?" You ask innocently as you slowly pull your bottom lip between your teeth again. He smirks and looks away while shaking his head slightly, "Alright. Two can play at this game."

He gently slaps the table and stands up. You stand up after and go to walk around him but his hand gently grabs your neck and he moves your body back in front of his, "So does this mean one of us is going home with the other?"

You look up at him, trying not to focus on how wet his hand on your neck is making you, "Considering all of the inappropriate thoughts I'm having.." you smirk, "..it would be concerning if that didn't happen."

He smiles as his eyes move from your eyes to your lips and back. Just as he goes to lean in, the sliding door opens and his hand drops from your neck.

"Totally not sorry for the interruption. I was told to retrieve the, as Kat said, handsy lovebirds, emphasis on the hands." Johnnie sighs, "..and before anyone tries to explain, I do not wish to know."

You try not to laugh as Jake fights back his laughter as he sighs, "Can't you ever just not be everywhere I am."

"I try. But you have this leash on me a little too tight, master." Johnnie chuckles and shakes his head, "I'm leaving now."

Jake shakes his head and laughs slightly as he looks back down at you, "Now before we get rudely interrupted again." He places his hand back on your neck, squeezing gently as he leans down to press his lips to yours.

You lay your hand on his, smiling within the kiss as you're ready to hightail it back to your place as fast as possible.

"We better get back inside before they send the Emo Pomeranian back out to yip at us." Jake laughs at his own joke and you shake your head, "Emo Pomeranian. I can't with you two."

He lays his arm over your shoulder as he walks you to the door, "Don't tell him I said that."

"Secrets safe with me." You laugh as he opens the door and Jake starts laughing at his joke once he sees Johnnie, "Dude.. I just called you an Emo Pomeranian."

"What.. the fuck." Johnnie shakes his head and looks down, "I can't say I'm surprised."

You look at Jake, "You just told me not to tell him." You laugh and Jake shrugs, "I'm sorry. I looked at him and he had to know that that's what he looks like."

Everyone else laughs and you shake your head as you sit down, Jake sitting next to you, "I'm sorry, Johnnie. Do you want to kiss and make up?"

"Actually.." Johnnie closes his eyes and leans in and Jake breaks and starts laughing, "I'm sorry. I can't. I love you, but I'm not drunk enough for that."

"You weren't drunk enough for last night." Johnnie gives Jake a side eye and Jake sighs, "Dude I thought we weren't going to talk about that."

Jake lays his hand on your thigh, sliding it up and down as he laughs and carries on with Johnnie. You knew he didn't have to have his hand there.

He wanted it there.

Every so often it would move up higher and you'd just wish you were alone with him already.

You rest your hands in your lap, close to his, and he extends his pinky out, slipping it under yours as he talks with your friends.

Your eyes stay locked on his hands, taking in all the detail of them. From his veins, to the creases over his knuckles.

The longer you looked, the more you needed them on other places of your body.

"Alright.. I'm going home." Jake looks over at you, "Do you need a ride?"

Before you can answer, Kat buts in, "Yes she does."

Jake's mouth drops and he looks at you shocked, "Wow. How did you say that without moving your lips? " he tries not to laugh but fails and you laugh, glaring at Kat but smiling at her as you nod, "Yeah, I'll get my car tomorrow."

You stand up, "Do you need help cleaning up?"

Kat shakes her head, "Nope. I'm good. Not much of a mess anyway." You nod, giving her an excited look as you put your coat on.

"Jonnie. Are you coming, too?" Jake points to him and he nods, standing up, "Catch you all later." He salutes the others and walks to the door.

"Thanks for the little get together." You smile and wave to Kat, laughing as Sam starts to snore quietly, "You guys better draw something on his face."

"Already on it." Colby laughs and you shake your head, "See you."

"Have fun." Kat smiles and you roll your eyes, knowing that you most definitely will have fun. You walk out to the car and go to get in the back but Jake snaps, "No, no. Y/n can sit upfront."

Johnnie stares at Jake, "But.. I'm always passenger princess."

Jake tilts his head, "Yeah... well.. not when we have an actual female with, okay."

Johnnie sighs, mocking Jake as he goes to get in the back. You try not to laugh as you get in and buckle up, looking over at Jake as he gets in.

"So are you guys like.. a thing now.. or what is this?" Johnnie asks from the back and you look over at Jake, "Um.."

Jake smirks and tilts his head, "No, she just has a thing for my hands so I'll have to cut them off and give them to her."

You laugh quietly as Johnnie sits there in silence for a moment, "That's.. disturbingly morbid.."

Jake pretends to act mad, "There will be absolutely no kink shaming in this car.. or you can walk home." He fights back laughter as he looks over at you and Johnnie sighs, "I wasn't ki- I mean, whatever you're into, that's your business."

You shake your head, "Oh my god."

Jake laughs and speaking of his hands, your eyes move to his that's hanging off the center console next to yours.

You don't really pay any attention to their banter as you lift your pinky and gently scratch his. He smirks as he glances down, seeing what you're doing.

He moves his hand over, interlocking his pinky over yours. The subtle touch is what gets you most. It's cute, innocent, but you know as soon as you two finally get alone, it won't be as innocent.

"Okay. This is your stop." Jake parks the car and looks back to Johnnie, "That'll be twenty bucks."

Johnnie stares at him, "twenty bucks for what? A fucking ten minute car ride. I'm filing a complaint."

"Do you want to speak to the manager? Hold on." Jake spins around and turns back, "Manager Webber here, how can I help you?"

"I'm not doing this." Johnnie laughs and slides over to get out, "Please keep him."

You laugh, "We'll see how my free trial goes. I'm sure you can have him on weekends."

Jake laughs and rests his head on the headrest, "He'll just have to listen to me scream about wanting to go to mommy's house." You close your eyes and sigh, "Oh my god."

"As I said, keep him. Please." Johnnie shuts the door and Jake waits for him to go inside before driving off.

He moves his hand, slipping it under yours and gently squeezing, "So have my.." he laughs slightly, "..hands.. always been a turn on for you?"

"Oh we're getting right into it, wow okay." You laugh nervously and bite your lip, "I mean.. kind of. Yeah, I guess."

He smirks and nods, "Interesting."

"But I mean, it's not just your hands either.. you know." You add quickly after and he looks over at you and smiles, "It's the hair isn't it?" He shakes his head, reaching up to brush his hand that's not holding your hand through it.

"Oh yeah. Totally the hair, too." You laugh and rest your head back as you look at him, "I've had a crush on you for a while now."

"That's actually kind of crazy.. and I'll tell you why." Jake smiles and you tilt your head, "I'm dying to know."

He chuckles and raises your hands that are held together, "Now don't freak out or anything.. but I've also.." he glances over at you, "Had a crush on you."

You gasp, pretending to be shocked and he sighs, "Damn it. I said not to act shocked." He laughs and you cover your mouth, "Oh, sorry. Sorry."

He pulls into your driveway and parks the car, "Its alright, I'll let it slide." He unbuckles and quickly points, "But just this time."

You hold your hand up, "Got it. Thank you." You reach over to unbuckle your belt and turn slightly to face him. He brings his other hand up, playing with your fingers as he stares down at them.

You bite your lip, eyes scanning over your hand being caressed in his.

You watch as his hand moves up and you look up at his as he lays it on your cheek. He pulls you into him, connecting his lips to yours.

You lay your hand on his neck, tilting your head as the kiss grown into a slow make out, "Can we g-"

"Yes." He kisses you for a short moment and leans back, nodding, "Yes."

You laugh slightly as you get out and walk up the steps to your door. You reach into your coat pocket, pulling out your keys so you can unlock the door.

You push it open, walking in as Jake follows behind you, "Do you need a drink or anything?" You shrug off your coat, "I haven't gone shopping yet. I didn't expect guests over so there isn't much here right now."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you that in the grocery police so since your cupboards aren't stocked.." he walks over to you, gently pushing you against the wall, "I'm going to have to arrest you.. or something."

He laughs and you shake your head, "You can do whatever you want to me."

His eyebrow twitches and you can tell that that sent excitement through him, "Well.. alright then." He bends down, sliding his hands down to your thighs and lifts you up.

He keeps your back pressed against the wall as he kisses down your neck, "Where's your room again?" You smile, "Upstairs, second door on the right. You should know this by now, Jake."

He leans back, rolling his eyes playfully, "Don't worry.. I'll get it." He smirks and leans in to kiss you, gently setting you down as he slides his hand into yours, "Come on."

You pulls you towards the steps, staring up at him as you follow behind. You walk into your room and pulls you in front of him, "Tell me where you want my hands."

You bite your lip, "I want.." you grab his hand and slowly place it on your neck, "Your hands.." you grab his other one and slip it under your shirt, "Here.."

He licks his lips, tilting his head as he backs you up towards the bed. You sit down and he pulls your shirt up over your head, "Cute bra."

You smirk and reach behind you to unclip it, "Thanks." Your eyes fixate on his hand sliding up your arm to pull the strap down. He drags both straps down, pulling your bra off of your body completely.

"Move up to the wall." He motions for you to move up to the top of the bed. You crawl up, turning around to lay on your back.

He slips his shirt off, walking around to the other side of the bed, "Rest your back against it, I want you to watch."

Your heart skips a beat as you nod, complying to his request. He sits in front of you on his knees, grabbing your skirt and pulling it down, along with your nylon stockings and panties, leaving you naked for him.

"Beyond beautiful." His eyes scan up your body and he moves to sit next to you. He turns so he's on his side, "Watch my hand, baby."

Your lip is tucked snug between your teeth as your eyes watch his hand slide down your body. Your breathing quickens as his fingers grow closer to your clit.

Your mouth drops open as his fingers graze over your pussy, a quiet moan escaping as he dips his fingers in quick before sliding them up to apply pressure to your clit.

He slips his arm behind your head, angling it down to slowly knead your boob, "Is this alright?" You nod quickly, turning your head to kiss him, "yes.. yes."

He smirks within the kiss, using his head to push yours back so you can watch his hand. You look down your body, one leg over his legs and the other bent up and held out of the way by your hand.

Jake's fingers circle your clit, "You're going to feel so good, I know it."

You whimper at his words. Your hips buck at the pleasure radiating from the tips of his fingers.

"You can moan, baby. It's just us." His nose rubs against your cheek as he slips his fingers down, slipping two into you, "God, you're so wet."

You moan and tilt your head back, "Fuck."

"Mm. Eyes on my hand." He leans his head back and makes sure you go back to watching before he starts to slowly push and pull his fingers in and out of you.

He speeds up his thrust, groaning at the sound of your wetness squelching as his fingers go back in, "I bet you taste so good, too."

You smirk, brows furrowing as you moan, "Only one way to find out." He chuckles and nods, "You're right." His other hand thats on your boob, lifts up slightly so he can pinch your nipples between his fingers.

Your back arches and you want to throw your head back but you manage to keep your eyes glued to his fingers going in and out of you, "Fuck, fuck, Jake.."

"You gonna cum?" He whispers and nods, "Please do."

Your fingers dig into the skin of your thigh as you bring your other arm up to wrap around and tangle into his hair, pulling as you squeeze his fingers.

"You're so close aren't you?" Jake nips your ear and you nod, "Yes.. yes..”

He moves his head down and kisses up your neck. You tilt your head over to give him more room to suck a hickey onto your skin and that’s enough.

You let out a loud moan, tilting your head back as you tug on his hair, earning a deeper groan from him, “Fuck.” He pulls his fingers out and brings them up to your lips.

You look over at him as you part them, taking his fingers in and sucking. Jake’s eyes bounce from your lips to your eyes, “That’s so fucking hot.”

You smirk as he pulls his fingers back, leaning in to kiss you roughly. He moves his body over yours and kisses down your neck, over your chest and torso, finally reaching your hips.

He glances up at you before moving down and leaning in. You gasp, moaning loudly as his tongue moves between your folds and slips inside.

He groans against you, his hands squeezing your thighs as he pushes his head closer to you. You lay a hand on his head, arching your back as you tangle your hands in his hair, “S-shit.. Jake.”

You look down at him and watch as he devours you. Turning and tilting his head to get as much of you as he can.

The way he moans lowly against you is so hot, you never really wanted this to end.

Your eyes roll back as your body jerks slightly, “Fuck, baby..” you gasp, “Rig- y-yes!” You dig the heels of your feet into his back, moaning as he brings you through the high of your orgasm.

You stare down at him, panting as you watch him sit up and look at you with a smirk, “ten out of ten, will be doing that again.” He smirks and you laugh slightly as he moves up to put his lips back onto yours.

Your fingers drag down his torso to the band of his pants. He gasps against your lips as you slip your hand in and wrap it around his cock, “Need you.” You breathe out as you stroke him a few times.

A low moan leaves his lips and he nods, leaning up to push his pants down before moving to lay on his back. You instantly move to straddle him, biting your lip as you reach down to hold his cock as you glide down onto it.

Your hands move to press onto his chest, moaning as you sink fully down onto him. His jaw falls slack as his hands grip your hips tight, “You feel fucking perfect.”

Your brows furrow and you moan as you slowly start rocking your hips. Jake’s hands guide you back and forth, squeezing tight as he watches your face scrunch with pleasure.

You slide your hand up to grab one of his hands, guiding it up your body until you reach your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing slowly.

You lean forward, one hand by his head to hold yourself up as you start bouncing, the sound of skin on skin and moans mixing fills the room.

“Just like that, baby.” Jake groans, “Fuck, just like that.”

You moan, moving your hips all the way as you squeeze his cock, “S-shit.” You rock your hips, grinding down on him as you work yourself up to orgasm.

He lets go of your neck, wrapping an arm around your waist as he sits up, “You’re so close, babe.” He leaves open mouth kisses all over your neck as you grind your hips on him, “Yes, yes, yes.”

He slides a hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair. Pulling your head back so he can leave a few more purple marks on your neck, “You’re so fucking hot.”

He pulls you into him with his arm that’s around your waist, indicating that he doesn’t want you to stop, “Keep going..”

You wrap an arm around his neck, digging your nails into his skin as you continue to grind on his cock, “Jake.” You whimper out, “I-I-“

He rolls over, laying you on your back and he picks up where you stopped. He thrust his cock into you, his arm holding up his weight as he pins your leg up over his other arm.

His lips connect with yours and you swallow each other’s moans. Your nails drag up his back as you cum, chest pressing against his as you cling to him.

“Fuck, fuck.” He groans and pulls out, stroking his cock with his hand until you feel his cum land on your pelvis.

You lay there, breathing heavy as you watch him fully finish. He looks at you with a smile and he leans down to gently kiss you. He lay next to you and turns his head, “That was fun.”

You smirk and look over at him, “Ten out of ten. Will do again.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “That’s a good one. I wonder who you stole that from.”

You smile and shrug, “Some cute guy said it to me earlier.”

“Oh I see.” He smiles, chuckling as he gets up to go get a towel. He comes back in and walks over to wipe you off, “Does this cute guy get to.. I don’t know.. stay the night with you?”

You sit up and tilt your head, “That depends..”

“On?” He sits down, looking over at you and you lean forward to kiss him, “If he promises me not to sleep right away.” You lean back with a smirk and he sighs with a slight smirk, “I supposed I can make that sacrifice.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

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[doofnoof]

Sun and his Good Boy Points™ /J

In a few short years, “Pizza Boy” became one of the most popular pizza places, their human like androids making fast deliveries and more profits. As you go to pick up your pizza from the front door, the delivery android seems to be nearly out of power. It asks to recharge before heading out.

[mothandpidgeon]

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you. 

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller. 

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely. 

Her words still ring in your ears. 

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life. 

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said. 

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you. 

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart. 

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder. 

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says. 

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask. 

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room. 

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid. 

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you. 

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now. 

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say. 

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say. 

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh. 

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles. 

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. 

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there. 

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face. 

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy. 

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen. 

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself. 

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze. 

“Mercy?” Sarah asks. 

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass. 

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air. 

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.  

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her. 

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around. 

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.” 

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night. 

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller. 

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away. 

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.  

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands. 

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor. 

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps. 

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something. 

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies. 

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral. 

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break. 

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster. 

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk. 

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground. 

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence. 

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you. 

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged. 

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete. 

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her. 

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet. 

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill. 

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers. 

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says. 

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her. 

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle. 

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck. 

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away. 

You wait for a long time. 

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now. 

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes. 

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine. 

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare. 

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you. 

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family. 

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope. 

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning. 

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday. 

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt. 

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you. 

He left you to die but you just go on living.  

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night. 

You’re on your own. 

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone. 

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her. 

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead. 

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head. 

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk. 

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north. 

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival. 

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you. 

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal. 

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.  

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven. 

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached. 

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall. 

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table. 

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home. 

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you. 

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage. 

“That really you?” he asks. 

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.  

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope. 

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife? 

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner. 

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller. 

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up. 

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become. 

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up. 

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel. 

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival. 

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago. 

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath. 

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall. 

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened. 

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes. 

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says. 

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you. 

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious. 

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder. 

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark. 

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back. 

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say. 

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing. 

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall. 

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel. 

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today. 

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine. 

“You okay?” Ellie asks. 

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much. 

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall. 

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers. 

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken. 

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says. 

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out. 

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache. 

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you. 

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded. 

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves. 

“Want some company?” you ask. 

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in. 

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Surprised you remember,” he says. 

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.” 

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living. 

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down. 

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.” 

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him. 

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear. 

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him. 

A thick knot forms in his throat. 

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment. 

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end. 

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out. 

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky. 

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect. 

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask. 

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains. 

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since. 

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes. 

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile. 

“How’s she look?” you ask. 

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods. 

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair. 

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library. 

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor. 

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all. 

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”. 

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved. 

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly. 

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.  

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink. 

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. 

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing. 

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.  

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet. 

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago. 

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek. 

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours. 

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it. 

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say. 

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went. 

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night. 

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.   

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning. 

And then you kissed him. 

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing. 

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone. 

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you. 

That’s when he heard it. 

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong. 

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you. 

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again. 

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself. 

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you. 

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you. 

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon. 

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth. 

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.  

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs. 

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says. 

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply. 

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says. 

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life. 

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.  

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.   

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there. 

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips. 

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open. 

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers. 

“Stay,” you murmur. 

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back. 

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?  

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress. 

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well. 

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further. 

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could. 

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.  

After a while, though, it happens. 

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them. 

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light. 

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment. 

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him. 

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper. 

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever. 

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want. 

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul. 

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass. 

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him. 

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him. 

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply. 

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this. 

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories. 

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before. 

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back. 

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.  

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?” 

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft. 

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself. 

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all. 

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart. 

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection. 

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you. 

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

[lovelookspretty]

what would you do for love?

exboyfriend!rafe cameron x obsessed!exgirlfriend!reader

— in which y/n spirals into a possessive obsession over her ex-boyfriend rafe. she quietly pulls the strings from the shadows, creating accidents, bribing others, and doing whatever it takes to maintain control—believing she is the only one truly capable of loving him.

warnings: y/n acting like a subtle joe goldberg asf😭, drinking, smoking, y/n missing rafe

authors note: potential series??? THIS COULD BE ITS PROLOGUE. idk much about sofias background so i cant write out a full length “dive” on her like joe would in you, but ill do what i can!! im not abandoning “waking up to you” though, just trying to figure out ideas for how to play out the rest of the week ‘til the end LMFAOOO

if u are interested in being part of the tag list, please let me know through replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !! notifications are always on <33

next

you’re rummaging through your drawers, tossing clothes to the side in a desperate search for something that feels right. it’s one of those nights—some random party you’re not really excited for but can’t help going to because, well, everyone’s going. the young adults of the island, at least.

another night of sloppy, underage drinking, messy hookups, and pointless fights breaking out over nothing, the kind of chaos that seems to thrive in a place like this. you don’t even know whose party it is, but that hardly matters.

you’ve already pulled out a pile of tops, but none of them feel like the one. too tight, too loose, too boring, not the vibe. they’re scattered across your bed now as you dig deeper, hoping that the perfect top is somehow hiding at the very bottom. and that’s when your fingers brush against something familiar, soft yet slightly worn—his hoodie.

you freeze for a second, your hand gripping the fabric, and a wave of something bittersweet washes over you. you didn’t even remember it was still there, shoved in the farthest corner of the drawer like you were trying to forget about it. but now it’s right in front of you, and just holding it feels like opening an old wound.

it’s rafe’s hoodie. as in your ex-boyfriend’s hoodie. the one he never asked for after you broke up. it’s stupid, probably, keeping it like this, but a part of you always thought that meant something.

back then, you’d convinced yourself that him not asking for it back was a sign. like he was telling you, in some unspoken way, that it wasn’t really over. that he still wanted you to hold on, just for a little longer. you’d held onto that hope longer than you should’ve.

because now, things are different. you’ve seen him around the island, his arm draped around another girl, a pogue, of all people. the whole thing feels like a bad joke, doesn’t it? rafe cameron, the toxic kook from figure eight, running around with some girl from the cut.

you wonder what her deal is. maybe she’s living out some kind of romeo and juliet fantasy. is that it, rafe? is that what you’ve become—her tragic love story? maybe she’s the kind of girl who romanticizes the idea of being with someone she isn’t supposed to, thinking she’s special because she got him.

the thought makes you frown, a bitter taste rising in the back of your throat. she doesn’t even know him like you do. she doesn’t know the way his mind works, doesn’t know what he’s like when the charm fades, when he’s spiraling, when everything he tries to hold together starts to fall apart.

without thinking, you pull the hoodie closer, burying your face in it. his scent still lingers faintly in the fabric—his cologne. that familiar, warm smell that used to make you feel safe, even when things between you were anything but. it’s been a while since you broke up, but the cologne is still there, still clinging to the material like it’s holding on, just like you are.

you wonder if he still wears it. maybe he sprays it on for his new girl now. maybe she pulls his hoodies around herself the way you used to, breathing him in, thinking she’s the only one who gets to do that now. the thought actually makes your chest ache.

you blink a few times, your throat tight, and gently lower the hoodie back down to your lap. i miss you, you think, but the words never make it past your lips. they just hang there, heavy and silent, as you stare down at the hoodie, wishing things had ended differently.

eventually, you pull the drawer all the way open and spot a shirt hiding beneath where the hoodie had been—it’s perfect for tonight. you pick it up, placing it on the edge of the drawer, but your fingers linger on the hoodie for a moment longer. then, with a quiet sigh, you fold it back up, tucking it away into the corner of the drawer once more. out of sight but never really out of mind.

you shove everything else back in, trying to get rid of the clutter, both in your room and in your head. it’s just another party, another night to pretend everything’s fine. but the hoodie still sits there, waiting, like it always has.

you’re waiting as your friend pours you a drink, eyes drifting over the skatepark around you. the party is in full swing—some are crowded around ramps, a few on their boards showing off, others slouched on graffiti-covered benches, their laughter mixing with the pounding bass.

when your friend hands you the cup, you take it with a nod, cruising through the crowds as you chat. your gaze flicks from group to group—people are either dancing, downing drinks, or getting a little too close in the shadows. you’re only half-focused on the conversation as you weave between the bodies.

you end up hanging by a ramp, watching as a few people race to shotgun their drinks. it’s messy and ridiculous, the kind of thing you can’t help but get pulled into. someone challenges you, and before you know it, you’re joining in. you win—barely—but not without nearly choking yourself in the process, coughing and laughing at the same time. sure, you won, but at what cost? still, it’s funny enough to have you and your friends laughing about it after.

while your friends mess around, you drift away from the noise, leaning back against the railing near the top of the ramp. your phone dangles loosely in your hand, and you’re resting your head on one of your friend’s backs as they chatter on. you don’t really need to be involved in the conversation—it’s comfortable just being there.

you find yourself staring at your phone screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard as you type out a quick message: hey.

it’s to rafe. of course, it is. and you know it’s dumb, you know you shouldn’t send it, but for some reason, everything in you wants to. even though it won’t do anything, even though he’s probably not even thinking about you right now.

you swipe your tongue across your bottom lip, hesitating for a beat longer before closing the app. you’re not gonna send it. you know you wouldn’t have anyway, you were just seeing if you’re drunk enough to go through with it. not this time. maybe another. maybe never. with a sigh, you turn your phone off and shove it into your pocket, trying to push the thought away.

but just then, there’s a commotion at the edge of the park, some people turning to look. a new car’s pulled up, headlights cutting through the dark, and as the doors open, your stomach drops.

yeah, of course, it’s him. rafe steps out, and your eyes lock onto him immediately. he’s got his girl by his side, and the sight alone makes you want to tilt your head back and groan. but instead, you just watch, waiting, seeing what they’ll do.

rafe moves through the crowd easily, that infamous smile on his face, flashing it at anyone who bothers to look. he looks . . . happy, which is great for him, really. it’s nice, or whatever. but as your gaze follows him, watching the way he’s moving with her, there’s a part of you that’s almost relieved. because no matter how content he looks, he doesn’t look happier. not happier than he did when he was with you. and somehow, that’s enough.

“don’t look now,” one of your girl friends mutters as she approaches, her voice low and careful. her back is to the rest of the party, which includes rafe and sofia, not that they’d even glance your way.

“you’re too late,” you say, leaning back against the railing, gripping it with a small smile. normally, you’d be dropping dead right about now, but if you did that, your friend would worry. and really, you’re not bothered. or at least, not too bothered.

“they look good together,” you add casually, waving a hand toward the crowd where rafe and sofia stand. you’re trying to sell it, trying to convince your friend that this is all good with you.

your friend gives you a skeptical look, her brow raised, and you nod, like you’re insisting she believe you. “i’m serious,” you tell her. “they’re perfect for each other.”

she rolls her eyes and glances over her shoulder to check them out herself, hand on her hip as she grimaces. “yeah, she’s perfect if he’s into . . .” she trails off, eyeing sofia's outfit—one of those looks where it’s obvious rafe bought the clothes for her, but none of it quite fits her style. “knock-off country club chic?”

it’s not that funny, but the resemblance is a little accurate. “stop,” you murmur, nudging her. you can’t help the faint smile that pulls at the corner of your lips as you lift your cup, pretending to hide it by taking a sip.

your friend's not wrong, and she catches the smirk you’re trying to hide. “told you,” she teases, a grin spreading across her face as you take the joint from her hand.

inhaling deeply, you let the smoke linger in your lungs before you exhale it in a slow, straight line. as the haze clears, your eyes fix on rafe and sofia, standing together in the middle of the skatepark. your face softens, the humor from earlier fading like something inside you has switched off. no more laughing, no more games.

just them.

just her.

you take sofia in for what she is—pretty. sure, you can give her that. you understand why rafe might’ve been drawn to her at first. she’s the kind of girl who stays close to him, like she’s tethered, like she can’t stand alone unless rafe has to excuse himself. and when he leaves, she fades into the background. disappears.

you watch her now, standing awkwardly off to the side while rafe talks to someone, looking small, unimportant. oh. interesting.

she must like attention. no, not attention, rafe’s attention. she clings to it like it’s the only thing that makes her visible. and yeah, she’s done up nice—dressed in new clothes, no doubt bought with rafe’s money. she cleans up well for a pogue.

but there’s something about the way she fidgets, like her skin doesn’t quite fit right in the fabric. you can tell she’s not used to it, this life. it’s too big for her. she’s nervous, uncomfortable, trying to blend in with the kind of people who were born into this world.

and her smile. you can see it from here, that ‘just to be kind’ smile. practiced, polite. probably something her parents taught her. good for her, really. that’s good.

she works at the pelican yacht club, doesn’t she? you live right by it. the idea that she works so close to your home, that rafe goes by your house just to see her . . . it makes your stomach twist.

she’s short, shorter than most. short hair, short bangs, and so this relationship will be short too.

just a phase. it has to be. or you’ll make it.

whatever it takes.

early tags: @iissza @lotuslovers @obsessionsarenotfortheweak @yootvi @skyslowalking @ariiwritess @beebeerockknot

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.