#I have made these jokes before without interrogating them

[laurin4475]

Was going to reblog without commentary but actually-

The thing is that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have thrived in so called “Australia” for millenia- the largest estimates I’ve seen are for more than 100,000 years. They are, I believe, the oldest living culture in the world, with oral histories that stretch back to well before any of Europe’s “ancient” history.

And First Nations people were able to do so because they had profound respect for the country they belonged to. (And “country” here refers to the land they belong to, not a nation state).

Colonisers came to so called Australia and tried to treat it like their own, and then blamed the land and the peoples for being “uncivilised” and “dangerous” because it was different. And their lack of respect for this land meant they died sometimes because they didn’t listen to the peoples who had lived here for millennia.

Instead, they brutally subjugated the land and Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples and have never stopped. And the land and her peoples continue to suffer from the lack of respect and the expectation that the land should be like that in Western Europe.

okay I’ll say it nicer:

australia was colonised according to the myth of terra nullius (or empty land). ever since the very early days of colonialism, the land has been framed as something untameable and unliveable. this has justified acts of violence against the first peoples here, in that they are seen as non-people. it has justified the destruction of sacred land in the goal of making australia look more european. (an example: our capital city contains a man-made lake that is now nothing better than a fetid carp pond. it’s disgusting and unnatural). basically, the idea of “taming australia’ has justified endless harm

“everything in australia is weird and dangerous” is not just some silly meme phrase, it is something that arcs back to the very beginning of white settlers laying claim to ‘australia’. and personally I am very sick of seeing it thrown around like it means nothing

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when they're dating their co-member's idol!sister! 

AN: I used NCT members as a whole in this one ??? because it's much funnier tbh and the case might be different (I already did Dreamies' sister ver). Also in this scenario, they're supposed to be in a secret relationship but was caught by Dispatch LOL (no NCT Wish yet, I'm sorry! Still haven't get to know them better ><) 

Mark Lee

LMAO. Doyoung wouldn't know how to feel when he learned that you've been dating Mark for YEARS. So the times you went to their dorm wasn't because of him, but because of Mark!?!?!? Plus you were CAUGHT by Dispatch, so that doubled his stress. Unfortunately, your brother loves Mark like a younger brother. So after a hefty interrogation with him, he gives you his blessings and was still bitter that you two hid it from him. He knows that Mark will take good care of you and wouldn't hurt you two. (Mark will be dead if he does so.)

Huang Renjun

Yangyang will feel BETRAYED because Renjun is dating you and he only found out through Dispatch. I mean, that's his best friend and sister! He was surprised that you two were sneaking behind his back, but he'll find it funny and cute, unexpected too because Renjun never shown interest about you. He would probably interrogate you first before dragging Renjun in the scene. Yangyang would probably be chill about it because he trusts Renjun so much, just be prepare for a numerous teasing and pulling the "i'm telling y/n" card on Renjun. 

Lee Jeno

OH it's going to be a tension. Yuta will be SHOCK and the funny thing was that, he was in Japan when he learned about you and Jeno. He probably sent YOU tons of messages and calls while you panic over your relationship being revealed. When you were not answering, Yuta resorted to Jeno who was much calmer than you. Actually, Yuta knows that Jeno's a good kid, he just wants to make sure that you're choosing the right guy, and you did! Jeno was very respectful during the call and even told Yuta that he'll take care of everything. Yuta was in relief but that doesn't excuse him to talk to Jeno personally when he went back to Korea.

Lee Donghyuck

Oh, the first thing Ten will say to Haechan, "are you sure?" he doesn't mind that you two are dating and that you two have been dating for MONTHS. Like the typical teasing brother he was, Ten will ask Haechan if you brainwashed him or something, and you just have to kick him right there. Haechan will find it funny that Ten wasn't mad at all and that he's actually quiet pretty chill, but still, he also want Ten's approval so he made quite a speech about how serious he is about you, and Ten will just whip up a smile and ruffle Haechan's hair.

Na Jaemin

Jungwoo loves Jaemin like a younger brother, so he doesn't know what to feel when he learned that Jaemin's dating you without telling him. And that's been going on for years! He was also worried because you might receive backlash, so he was surprise when you and Jaemin appeared in front of their dorm. It was an hour of serious talk between the two of them and you SWORE that you never saw your brother this serious. As soon as the talk ended, Jungwoo will return to his usual self and ended up asking you two about your love life like a gossipy auntie.

Zhong Chenle

Oh pookie. Johnny loves Chenle so much. Like that's his little brother right there! He'll be pretty chill when he learned that you two are dating but he'll be mad as hell because you two were exposed by Dispatch. He was worried that it might ruin your image so he called you and asked you about it! You assured him that you're fine and things are being settled. Johnny would probably tease you eventually and ask you how you two started dating lol. Catch Johnny calling Chenle, "brother-in-law" whenever the two of them meet. 

Park Jisung

How can Taeyong find out he's in the military. JOKE IM SO SORRY. But the moment Taeyong finds out that you're dating Jisung the first thing he'll think was "damn, both of them have matured." and second, "Fuck Dispatch." JK. Anyways, he would probably try to contact you first. Will ask if you're okay and that he heard the news. You'll apologize to him for hiding it and probably understands why you did it. Then he'll try chatting Jisung about it and will be SURPRISE that Jisung sent a long-ass message about it. That's when he realized that Jisung's genuine about you! He'll be sentimental and think that time flies so fast. 

[on-leatheredwings]

Meeting the Family

based off this! but can be read alone.

Yandere! Fem! Reader / Yandere! Bruce Wayne

> romantic with bruce, platonic with the boys. the boys could be read as pre-yandere if you wish. > tw/cw: reader is a yandere, yandere-typical thought patterns, implied drugging, mention of self-harm, implied drugging > request: thoughts on co-conspirator!reader meeting the boys? > a/n: Hmmmm, i feel it’d be a meeting of interrogation where they see you’re clearly unstable !! > word count: 1.4k

You walk towards the threshold of a Wayne Manor sitting room. You have this hallway nearly memorized. You’ve viewed it through your 24/7 surveillance cameras and glanced upon it during your visits, but never has this hallway seemed so daunting until now. Luckily, your lover is nearby to reassure you. Bruce slips his hand into yours, and you inwardly swoon. You share a warm glance with him.

“They’ll adore you,” he says. You let a smile peek through your anxious expression. “I know I do.” At such sweet words, you feel your cheeks heat. Ugh, this man, you think affectionately.

Your Sunday best is the armor you don to meet Bruce’s children. It seems like you won’t even be able to meet them all – only the ones in town. “They just want to interrogate me,” you whine, letting yourself be pulled towards the impeccably decorated room.

“They just want to get to know you,” Bruce returns, humming. You can’t retort because already, you are in full view of his brood. The three of them look up from their phones and books. You swallow, under the scrutiny of two pairs of blue eyes and one pair of green.

“... Hi,” you say, waving a stupid hand. One smiles in return, thank goodness.

“I’ll just let you all get acquainted,” Bruce says, retreating. You swerve to him, blinking dumbly. That was not the agreement. The agreement was that Bruce moderate the discussion– and he’s gone.

He leaves the sitting room, and leaves you in the lion’s den to fend for yourself. And boy, do the lions pounce. 

The eldest, Dick – he’s positively godsent. He’s the first to shake your hand, immediately going into a friendly babble about how you’re all Bruce ever talks about and how he’s been excited to meet you. And thank God for that, because it manages to ease the tension you still have in your shoulders. He introduces himself and his brothers, melts the ice by teasing them as he does it. He offers you a seat across from them, offers you tea and cookies. He shares an anecdote of Bruce’s less polished moments to make you laugh. 

You soon realize he was a sleeper agent. He was merely buttering you up, lowering your defenses with well-placed platitudes and good-natured jokes.

It’s Tim who begins the true assault.

“So,” Tim begins over a cup of tea, looking upon you owlishly. “Isolation for 10 long years… How was that?” You blink, startled, before smiling weakly. At least no one was treating you like glass. Sometimes, that made you feel even more like a freak.

You try to give him a Sparknotes recollection, but it doesn’t satisfy him. At his badgering, you do relent more details. You are slipping your innermost thoughts without much of a fight, to your surprise. Dick’s empathetic gaze and Tim’s enraptured attention have you spilling dark thoughts it took you months to even tell Bruce… 

It was long. It was traumatic. Mind-altering. You have breakdown after breakdown. Self-harm after self-harm. There is a part of you you can never get back… So, 'how was it?' Why, just awful, thanks for asking!

Dick comforts you with “you’re so strong,” as Tim nods. He seems happy with his findings. It seems like you have piqued his academic interest – you can basically see the gears churning behind his mind, the factoids he’s storing for later. For what, you don’t know, but you’re glad to help. Throat dry, you down the rest of that blasted tea, but the boys aren’t quite finished.

Damian, however, is brutal in his questioning, sparing any of the pleasantries or dithering his brothers employed. He asks rapid fire about your past outside of your years in isolation. What was your childhood like? Your relationship with your parents? Did you ever graduate high school? College? What was your major? Do you like animals? His father houses two dogs, a cat, and a cow – you do know that don’t you? 

“What are your intentions with my father?” At that, you flinch.

“Nothing… nefarious, to be sure,” you say, sweat beginning to bead on your temple. It’s true! Aside from all the dastardly actions you wanted to inflict upon Bruce in the bedroom, nothing nefarious!

“And his other suitors? They don’t bother you?” 

At that, your smile wilts. Not from any offense… you simply don’t enjoy the reminder that others do seek Bruce’s affection. 

“They… don’t worry me,” you say succinctly. Dick doesn’t think you realize how your smile has grown sharp. Damian doesn’t let on whether he approves or disapproves of the answer. And Tim simply watches.

“And my father’s controlling and possessive tendencies? You’re fine with that? What would you do if you caught him in a lie? Or if a woman he was involved with confronted you?”

You gape like a fish. Man, what a character this one was. Damian blinks slow and catlike, before he sniffs. “I’m asking for one of the siblings who couldn’t be here today.”

“Um…” you return, discombobulated. You shoot off your answers as rapid-fire as he posed them. “I haven’t noticed any tendencies. And I can handle myself! If he lied… I’d hear him out. He probably had a good reason, of course.”

“What if it was infidelity?” 

You glare at them. “I’d get rid of her.” Why do they keep bringing up other women? 

At the boys’ silence, you realize your mistake. You wave your hands and bluster, “Not like– not like get rid of her– I would just tell her to… Leave. And I’d be… angry… at Bruce.” God, you don’t feel like you’re doing too well in this interview. You hiccup, filling your cup some more. What is in this tea? Man, it’s delicious.

“... Interesting.” 

“What if Bruce left you out of his own volition?” Tim points out, drawing your attention.

Your head snaps to him and you stare… That possibility had never even crossed your mind.

“He wouldn’t,” you say, confused. At raised eyebrows, you say, “I mean. I-I don’t think he would.” You have faith in Bruce. It’s been five months now, and your relationship has gone swimmingly. You had your insecurities… but Bruce had kissed all your worries away by now. Your fingers dig into the cushion of the couch. 

He wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t. He had already reassured you, and been so kind, and wonderful, and shown you what love was like– he couldn’t just leave you now–

“But what if he did?” and this time, the question comes from Dick, who, if you recall, hadn’t asked a single question yet. He looks serious, unlike his casual air from before.

You keep the desperation out your voice by keeping it chillingly level. “Then I’d convince him otherwise.” Good answer, good answer, you applaud yourself. All the boys nod, looking upon you with varying degrees of interest, curiosity, and understanding.

“Then… I suppose we have just one more question,” Tim says, plucking the kettle of tea out your hands. You pout.

“Thoughts on having children?”

At the question, your brows shoot into your hairline.

“... Are there not enough of you already?” you blurt.

To your relief, they all relax.

-

After that strange encounter, Bruce shows himself and sees you out. The walk outside is quiet. Comfortably quiet on your end. You hope you did good… no, you reassure yourself. Fuck it, you did great.

“So… how were they?” 

You glance at his face, and are surprised to see thinly veiled concern behind his smile. “Did any of them say anything… strange? And… did you like them?” You laugh, before floating up to kiss Bruce between the brows. Flight powers came in handy for stuff like that.

“They were wonderful,” you say cheekily. “Something they clearly get from their father.”

-

bonus!

Bruce re-enters the foyer. He shoots off a text, lamenting. If you hadn’t had him bug his own home, he could’ve spoken to the boys freely. He could’ve had Jason hide nearby, instead of having to listen in on Damian’s phone.

Bruce: Did that satisfy your curiosities?

Several ellipses in bubbles pop up, before his phone rattles with their responses.

Damian: Frankly, she comes off as airheaded and naive, but at least she seems to have some semblance of spine.

Jason: She’s crazy. Didn’t we tell you to stop sticking your dick in crazy

Dick: Well, I think that makes you guys a perfect match!

Tim: bruce i’m sorry, you cannot fix her. however, i would like to study her. and possibly, make her worse

Bruce sighs, albeit smiling. By all accounts, you seem have gotten their general approval.

[honeylullaby]

“How beautiful you are, my girl.”

(Rivals) Declan O’Hara x Reader

Suggestion by the lovely @laverna-fanfictions 🩷 / You trust your new boyfriend, Declan, enough to be your first..

18+ FANFIC / SMUT & Daddy Declan always 💋Short work. Reader character aged at 21.

Pulling periwinkle woollen socks over your glacial feet, you watched adoringly as Declan O’Hara kneeled by the fire, throwing jagged lumps of wood into the blazing fireplace. “There we are. That should keep us goin’ for a bit.” He beamed, rising to his feet and clapping his hands together to rid them of ash. The garden of The Priory was enveloped in a beautiful duvet of crisp snow, still falling and settling. Declan quickly snapped emerald curtains shut on the picturesque scene, and reached over the fireplace to turn on the radio. “And now, George Michael.” The tinny voice of the deejay spoke, promptly followed by Careless Whisper. “My favourite song!” You beamed, jumping to your feet and fiddling with the radio, increasingly the volume loud enough to make Declan’s face contort.

“Come here, you.” He sighed, pulling you tight to his chest — one hand wound around your waist, and one hand clamped onto yours. Declan was aware of your affinity to dancing and although not too partial himself, he would degrade himself enough to see the sparkling grin painted across your lips. Resting your rouged cheek against the warmed cotton of his taupe shirt, you pushed out an exhale. “I love you, Mr O’Hara.” You purr, fumbling over a few steps in your jumbled dance routine. “I love you too, girl.” Declan replies without missing a beat. He inched his face towards yours, chocolate moustache bristling against your lips. His sharpened eyes scanned your elegant button nose, your rounded lips, your twinkling eyes.

“Tonight, the music seems so loud.” George Michael warbled through the radio, as Declan crashed his lips against yours in passion, feral hands pulling at the hem of your golden satin dress. “Take it off.” He grunted, and you promptly pulled the dress over your head. Much to his pleasant surprise, the removal of your dress exposed your tremendous naked body — lustrously silky skin, huge breasts with rosy nipples and a neatly trimmed entrance to your soaking cunt. “Lie down.” Declan instructed, and you steadily lay against the shaggy mauve rug, adjacent to the fireplace. The stirring heat of the flames warming your blood, softening your nipples and coaxing you to spread your legs for your lover.

Stripping the constricting clothes from his person, Declan knelt on the rug to meet you, stroking his gargantuan cock, readying himself for entry. “Declan, wait, wait… I need to tell you something.” You splutter, covering your cunt with a hesitant hand. “What?” He interrogated, shuffling back in shock of your sudden outburst. “I’ve never… I’ve never actually… You know. Done this before.” You mumble.

Declan’s face portrayed quite the picture of bewilderment. You certainly suck my dick like you have, he thought to himself. “You’re joking, aren’t ‘ya?” He most certainly stifled a laugh as he spoke. “Why are you laughing?” You ask, sitting up on your elbows and furrowing your eyebrows in almost-fury. “I’m not, I’m not. Ya’ just…” He paused in disbelief, “Ya’ suck my dick like a fuckin’ porn star.” Chuckling to himself again and pinching the bridge of his nose softly, he was bracing himself for a swift smack on his arm… which you punctually delivered. “Declan! I’m being serious. I’m actually very nervous.” You mutter under your breath. “Well, do ‘ya want to? Do ‘ya t’ink ya’ ready?” Declan questioned, glaring at you expectantly with hazelnut eyes. All you could do was nod, and spit out a small ‘yes’ whilst removing your hand away from your wet spot.

Just the sight of your glistening, pink folds made Declan’s cock jump in excitement. You watched with bated breath as he inched towards you, grabbing a firm hold of your leg and resting it in the muscular crook of his shoulder. “Are ya’ definitely sure?” He asked again, and waited for your peep of a ‘yes’ once more. Lining the pink tip of his penis with your slick entrance, pushing himself into you at a painstaking pace — giving your body time to adjust to his sheer size. “My God, how beautiful you are, my girl.” The Irishman mumbled under his breath, his face twisted in pleasure. “Christ, how are you this fuckin’ wet?” His sultry voice growled, and in response, your muscles tightened around him, causing his eyes to clamp shut momentarily.

As he steadily begun to increase his pace, thunderous whimpers fell loosely from your mouth, toes curling at the newfound pleasure. “Fuck me harder, Declan. I can take it. I promise.” You plead, wisps of golden hair shadowing your leaf-green eyes. Following orders and placing his left hand on the mellow part of your waist, Declan thrusted himself into you with monumental vigour — his balls thumping against you and the delectable wet smack of your skin colliding with his providing the most stunning music to your ears.

Continuing his tempo for a mere matter of moments, Declan spat towards you, “Fuck me, I’m gonna cum already. Tighten it up for me again, girl.” You clenched your soaked cunt again, keeping yourself contracted around him. His resounding thrusts grew sloppy, and a droplet of sweat fell from his forehead, splashing onto the small of your back. Declan quickly pulled his cock out of you, straddling your chest with his fleeced thighs and pawing at his cock over your face. “Where do ya’ want it, love?” He spoke through gritted teeth. Without audibly replying, you open your mouth, waving a yearning pink tongue towards him. Grunting melodically, Declan released his hot load onto your tongue and watched as you swallowed it greedily. “Fuck, you taste so good.” You chime, licking across your lips and savouring the taste in its entirety. “Such a good girl.” He purred, stroking a rugged hand across your cheek.

[itsharleystuff]

↳ I. 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘓𝘋 𝘊𝘓𝘈𝘚𝘚 𝘚𝘐𝘕𝘕𝘌𝘙

Gif not mine! | Read part two here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.4k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After two years of absence and finally graduating college, it’s time you go back to Texas; to come home with your dad. But the prospect of facing the Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend and your secret crush, has your mind scattered.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), smoking, alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, spitting, mentions of masturbation, pet-names (sweetheart, darling), moral conflict, semi-public sex, slight dirty talk, pussy-drunk Joel, no use of y/n. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed something:)

— a/n: I honestly have tons of ideas for this particular universe, so I might make more parts if y’all like it<3 btw, reader is a fashion designer in this. Thought it might be important to mention, lol.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

You had never met him before. Not in person, at the very least.

Up until a while ago, you'd only seen him in the pictures your dad kept hanging around the house. And he had plenty of those: both of them in college, a road-trip with other friends or even after a hunt. Of course, you'd heard a lot about him too, but whenever you visited Texas your dad would dedicate his whole days to you exclusively. No time to visit his best friend-slash-neighbor, despite all the opportunities presented.

So the first time you ever saw him face to face was two years ago, in a Fourth of July barbecue he hosted.

Joel Miller.

Joel mother-fucking Miller.

Tall, broad, rugged looking, moody and with a seemingly stern exterior. An absolute dilf.

You always found him rather appealing— nothing but a silly little thought from whenever you would stare at the photographs. But meeting him personally was a whole eye-opening experience, like getting glasses after discovering you’ve had astigmatism your entire life.

"He liked you, y'know?" your dad had told you the next day. "Joel isn't usually that nice."

"Maybe it's because I'm your daughter," you joked. "I bet that helped with my impression."

"No," said him, laughing and shaking his head, "it was something else."

You didn't interrogate him on the matter. Whatever it was, you sure were glad to be in his grace.

That summer you saw a lot of him— specially since it was the longest you had spent in Austin ever since your mom passed away. You were twenty two at the time, right in the middle of your college studies. But the amazing thing about Joel was that he never made you feel patronized, neither did he treat you like you had to fit in the 'best friend's daughter' box. He was nice and made you feel comfortable in all ways possible.

Frankly, deep down you wanted him to be an asshole. If that were the case, you could've had the perfect excuse to push him away. Instead, your crush simply grew stronger.

Because, fucking hell, the man was hot in a striking, yet brooding manner. Joel Miller was attractive in the way a man is supposed to be attractive. Which was quite a contrast compared to the boys that usually neared you, who had no sense of themselves and were always fooling around with no idea what they were doing.

It was so bad that even now, after two years without seeing him —or your dad, for that matter— you feel anxious and eager at the thought of a reunion.

You're now officially graduated, and after a lifetime of traveling the states to visit both your parents, added to four years of college in New York, it's finally time to settle down for a while. To move in with your dad and make up for the lost time.

"Are you really going to stay in Texas?" Sophie, your best friend, asked through the phone speaker. "After all these years in the big city?"

"Yeah, I ought to stay with him. After all, we're the only family we've got," you replied, staring out the window of the cab. "When I told him I was coming he got so excited, you should've heard him. He said he'd throw me a homecoming party, can you believe that? Who's even going to attend?"

You hear her giggle on the other side. "What about that Mr. Miller you always brag so much about?"

"What about him?" you wondered with half strained voice.

"Oh, don't play coy, honey," she mocks. "We both know how much you want him to give you a sweet old Texan welcome."

"I have no idea what that is," you respond, smiling.

"I just made it up. No idea what they do in the south. I'm from Brooklyn." Of course she made it up. "But I meant it's pretty obvious how much you want his head between your legs..."

"Okay, yeah- I get it." You interrupt, starting to see familiar houses from your dad's neighborhood. "You're right. But he's... Righteous. Apparently."

"Sweetie, let's be honest," Sophie talks softly, "no man is righteous. Just show them a bit of skin and they'll be wrapped around your finger forever."

"I'm not sure I-"

"Try it. And keep me updated," she mumbles hastily. "I've got to go now. I have an appointment with the Ralph Lauren executives in ten minutes."

"Treat them nicely, Sophie. Don't waste my recommendation letter," the girl laughs.

"Yeah, yeah... I'm serious about Miller, though. Be sure to wear something low-cut. Bye, bye!"

She hangs up right when you're outside the house; the one you knew so well and at the same time felt so unknown. The one where you spend each summer and occasional holiday in. Your childhood home. Oddly enough, the door is open but you can't see your dad anywhere near. You hoped he'd be around to help you with the luggage, though it didn't seem like it.

"Dad?" You call for him from the entrance, carrying both heavy suitcases. "Anyone here?!"

The faint noise of footsteps is barely audible before you see him leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed over his sturdy chest.

Breathtaking.

"M'not your old man but pretty sure I can help you with that," he says with that characteristic Texan drawl of his, gesturing towards your cases.

"But if it isn't Joel Miller in the flesh," he tilts his head with a faint smile, approaching your side. "You haven't aged a day since I last saw you."

It was true. Perhaps his skin looked a bit more tan, his hair somewhat longer and curlier, his beard starting to gray. But everything else remained the same. He smelled just like you remembered —fresh soap and musky cologne—, and still held onto the same mode choices: flannels, boots and dark jeans.

"Quite the opposite to ya," he says, taking both your suitcases from your hands. "I like your new hair."

"Are you implying I look old?" Joel grins smudgily.

"None of that, darlin'. I'd say mature." His words manage to make your pulse raise. "Shall I take this upstairs?"

"Yeah, I- I'll walk you to my room," he chuckles as he steps on the stairs. "What?"

The man shakes his head as he makes his way to the second floor, followed closely by you. Nothing about this house seemed different. Nevertheless, you felt different.

"Nothing. S'just..." he takes a deep breath, but changes the subject quickly. "Your dad went to the store to get some beers. He'll be back any second."

You nod, opening the door to your dorm. It was exactly the same as it was two years ago, simply tidier and with a poster that read 'welcome home and happy graduation' in messy, colorful handwriting over your bed.

"He made that himself. Though, I've gotta say, I'm glad he didn't pursue an artistic career." You both laugh at the comment.

"A for effort." Joel sets your luggage next to the doorframe, being monitored by your keen eye. "Will I see you tonight? I know you're not a big fan of social gatherings."

"Your dad'll kill me if I'm not. He's got me here since ten o'clock to help him out." You look up at him, feeling vaguely nostalgic when watching your surroundings. "But I'm also hoping we'll catch up. I'd like to hear all about your adventures in the big city, aight?"

"Oh, I'm not sure you'd like that," you retort. "I'm afraid you'll see a side of me you might disapprove of."

Joel's brows shot up in a cocky expression. "And here we were all thinking you were such a nice girl. Forget 'bout me, sweetheart. Your old man would drop dead if he gets the news."

You can't hold back the smirk that spreads across your face as you look him dead in the eye. Truth be told, you had wished for him to change, in any sort of way. Maybe if he had gotten a couple more wrinkles or grey hairs you'd be able to not find him attractive anymore. But age suited Joel. Maybe if he stopped being so warm to you, so kind, it might be able to fade away.

'Righteous', you'd called him.

But he isn't so much. No man ever is.

In your last visit you weren't bold enough with him, but each time you'd say something slightly suspicious, every occasional brush or brief skin to skin contact during a shared moment, had an effect on him. He reacted to you, even if he thought you wouldn't know. Sure, he was well restrained and you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't actually looking for any signs. That didn’t change the facts, anyway.

"I've never really been much of a nice girl, to be honest," you retaliate, dragging the words. "But I bet you can keep a secret, can't you?"

Something in your voice causes him to unconsciously stop breathing. His brows knit together and it takes him a second to regain composure. However, he doesn't get to say a thing, your dad's voice suddenly floating from the floor beneath.

With your blood rushing, you practically flee downstairs, seeing his face change completely at the sight of his beloved daughter.

"You're here early, what the heck?" The man mumbles with a kindhearted smile, embracing you in a tight hug.

"Figured I might surprise you." The boxes of beer he bought were quickly discarded when he saw you. "So, are you surprised?"

"Very. But I was supposed to pick you up at the airport. Did you take a cab?"

"Don't worry about that," you reassure with a gesture. "It was included in the airport bill."

"Oh, man..." your dad turns to see his friend, "you leavin' already?"

"I have to pick up Sarah," he explains, peeking at his watch. "She had soccer practice today."

"Can I expect to see her later, too?"

Joel nods at your question, faintly beaming. "F'course. She loves you."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

Shortly after Miller's departure your dad sent you off to bed, arguing that you were probably tired. And even if you wanted to stay and chat with him for a while, you had to admit he wasn't mistaken. Either way, you still had the rest of the day —and plenty more ahead— to do that. Besides, he still needed to sort some things out before the party.

So, without unpacking or undoing your bed, you slept for hours, dreaming about how your new life was going to be.

(...)

When you finally woke up, night had already fallen. Your dad mustn't have wanted to wake you, but it made you feel in a rush to get ready. You took a cold shower and kept your makeup neutral in order to be quick. Furthermore, Sophie's advice to wear something low-cut was taken under consideration.

Judging by the noise coming from the backyard, you guessed the guests had already started to arrive. You heard talking and music, aside from smelling the hamburgers your dad was preparing. There were kids running around and a couple of people chatting in the living room when you entered, setting all eyes on you.

You knew most of them, neighbors and friends of your dad's. They immediately monopolized your attention, asking questions regarding your career life, reasons why you chose your major and saying how much your dad loved and missed you. It wasn't bad, you liked the courtesy and praise; nonetheless, in the back of your mind you were solely expecting the Millers' arrival.

After a while, you excuse yourself and decide to join your dad outside, stepping onto the fresh air.

"How's everything here?" you ask friendly. "Need any help?"

He was surrounded by some other of his pals, all of whom you'd met in your last visit, except for one– still, you couldn't help but think that he had a familiar air.

"We're alright, honey." You greet them all with a smile as your dad hooks an arm over your shoulders, offering a beer that you decided to decline.

"My niece was right," said the man you didn't know. "You're quite beautiful." He spoke subtly and on the right lines, giving you a affectionate smile. 

"Ah- I don't believe you've met Tommy," your dad chimed in. "He's Joel's younger brother."

"Oh, yeah..." you remembered, "he mentioned you last time I came. It's nice to finally meet you."

Now that you saw him up-close, he did resemble his brother in a certain way. There was something very emblematic that all the Millers had, a sparkle in their eyes that you picked-up on Sarah, but that enchanted you in—

"Speak of the devil..." your head jerked to the side, watching as your most expected guests come to join you.

"My goodness!" you speak in surprise, sharing a hug with Joel's daughter. "You've grown so much in the last two years... You're even taller than me now and I'm wearing heels." The girl giggles, charming as always. "Didn't you just turn seventeen?"

"A month ago," she answers. "But let's not talk about that, it makes dad feel old."

"Joel?" You look behind her, locking glances with him. "But he's in his prime!" he rolls his eyes sardonically.

"Come on, sunshine," Tommy says, "you know it's not polite to make fun of the elderly."

They laugh and you can vaguely hear your dad scolding him, but don't really pay attention to it as they go back to their conversation. In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his smile.

He looked handsome. To you, he always did. Tonight, however, he decided to change the flannels for an olive button up shirt and a black leather jacket. His curls seemed carefully styled and he smelled of sandalwood.

"By the way," you address Sarah, "I brought you something from New York. It's one of my designs..."

"Seriously?" Her whole face lit up at your words. "You know how much I love your work!"

"Yeah, thought you might like it. But I'll give it tomorrow. I haven't unpacked and my things are real a mess."

"That reminds me." The girl turns to Joel. "Did you bring it?" he nods and takes a small box from the pocket of his jacket, handing it to her.

"What's that?" you question out of curiosity.

"I got you a lil' present," Sarah answered.

"You, did what?" Joel countered with a reproachful tone.

"I mean- I chose a present..." the man clears his throat and she rolls her eyes. "We chose a present, which he payed for. Buuut, it was my idea so-"

His dad snorts and shakes his head, turning to chat with the rest of the men. The younger one drags you away to have some privacy, taking a solitary spot under the big apple tree. During your conversation, you discuss the details of your so called 'highlife' and open the tiny box they gifted, finding a shiny ring sitting on the bottom.

"Do you like it?" You grin and nod in response, deciding to put it on in that same instant. "Dad noticed you like wearing lots of rings.”

Joel noticed.

"I love it," you remark. "Thank you. Both."

Your eyes drift to the crowd gathered around the grill, men laughing and sharing beers. The surprising part was that when you finally found your target, he was already staring at you. If he was expecting you to notice or not, there was no sign. But the older one held your lingering glance and everything else seemed to fade away, suddenly becoming white noise in the background. There was a challenging fire behind his brown orbs, kind of like he was saying 'I know what you're doing and I can do it too'.

"So," you turn back to Sarah with a strange, thrilling sensation in the pit of your stomach, "what's up with you? How's high school?"

"Boring. You know the drill."

"And the boys?" she almost looks flustered at the question.

"Complicated. Bet you know all ‘bout that." Your brows furrow slightly.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Just an impression," her fingers fidget nervously.

You shrug, deciding to change the subject. "You're graduating soon... Have you decided on any universities yet?"

"Not quite," she sighs. "I'm worried about my dad, really. I don't want him to feel alone if I move out."

A sly smile parts your lips. "He won't be. There's my dad, your uncle and... Me. I'll make him a Tinder profile. He'll be fine."

Sarah chuckles and shakes her head. "He talks about you, y'know?"

"What, Joel?" you ask in a sarcastic tone, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Hard to believe."

"It's true! I think he admires you, in a way..."

With a hand gesture, you stop her. "Are we talking about the same man here?"

"Ask him. He might deny it, but it's often your name is brought up in conversations," she unfolds. "When you got that internship in Ralph Lauren, the articles you've written, magazines you've appeared in..."

"It sounds extremely rare for someone like your dad would be interested in the fashion industry. Even if it's just for me, cause I'm certain my own dad is the one forcing all this information onto him."

"Maybe," Sarah agrees. "Whatever it may be, I'm sure he'll be alright if you're around. At least happy, I think."

⩇⩇:⩇⩇✧˖°

The kitchen was a good shelter from all the gossip and noisy kids that turned out to be overwhelming after some time. No one came in there unless they needed to; and as of now they all seemed more concerned with other sorts of business. Besides, it was pretty late and most people had already headed home.

A bottle of wine was opened and poured into a glass, accompanied by a Marlboro cigarette from the depths of your purse, enjoying them while watching the night sky through the window. All your mind could think about was him and his odd behavior: Joel picking up on details, Joel talking about you with Sarah. Him. Just him.

"Am I interrupting somethin'?" you shake your head without looking back, recognizing his voice.

He walks over to you silently. The man is somehow very silent for someone so big, to the point where you didn't even listen when he opened the door. He leans against the counter, his body so close to yours that you can feel his warmth even if you're not seeing him.

"Want some?" you ask, raising your half-empty glass of red liquid and whipping your body to face him, standing shoulder to shoulder, closing the curtain in the meantime.

"Thanks," he mutters, showing his can of beer, “m'not that fancy." You titter, taking a short drag from the dart. "I'll have one of those, if you can spare."

With the fag between your teeth, you take the pack of smokes from your bag and hand it to him, shooting an inquiry expression.

"What?" he asks with an arrogant beam.

"Nothing..." your voice comes out weird from holding back laughter as you take the lighter in your fist. "I just didn't know you smoke."

He takes one to his lips, keeping close eye contact with you all the while. The action sends a rush of excitement throughout your whole body as you duck forward to burn the unlit end, staring back at him with hooded eyes.

"I rarely do," he admits, setting the package aside.

If he wasn't hot enough already, the practiced mannerisms he had when smoking simply added to his sultriness.

"Why you hiding?" you wonder, ashing the cigarette over the sink.

"Not hidin'. Just sent Sarah home, but I wanted to catch you before leavin'."

It didn't surprise you, they lived across the street and, after all, he did say he wanted to talk.

"Did I mention how handsome you look today?" He sneers shortly.

"Well, my daughter was very clear 'bout not wanting me to wear flannels around a fashion designer." Joel takes a sip from his drink, holding the cig between his fingers.

"She gives me too much credit," you say, a bit embarrassed.

"You deserve it," the man replies grimly. "And you look absolutely beautiful, too. One of yours?"

His eyes briefly set on your chest, for such a short second that you actually believed you had probably imagined it. The dress you chose for the occasion was one of your first designs; pearl colored, cinched from the waist above and slightly loose over your thighs.

"Yes," you gulp, diverting your gaze to the glass on your hand. "So how's everything 'round here?" Joel shrugs his shoulders with indifference. 

"'S alright. Same as always," he meditates on it. "Boring without you to keep us entertained."

You utter a mocking snort. "Do my silly little experiences really entertain you?"

The older one tilts his head to blow some smoke. "You always talk so freely about your dreams and the goals you've accomplished. And your dad's enthusiasm is contagious, I might say." He licks his bottom lip, thinking. "I don't know... I'm glad someone close is doing all 'at. Feels like you ain't afraid of anything."

His words put a bright smile on your face. "Life's a risk, isn't it? Better be bold if you want to end up somewhere."

He huffs a laugh, nodding in agreement. A comfortable silence veils between you as you enjoy the alcohol and cigarettes. It was always nice to hang out with him like this.

"By the way, how are you holding up?" the question clasps his curiosity. "Parenting a teenager can be quite difficult, I've heard."

"Jesus," he grunts, "it's driving me insane. Not her per say, but the whole 'boy talk' 's just too much."

"I bet," you chortle, "although, I wouldn't worry too much. It's just a phase." 

"Yeah?" Joel scoffs. "You gon' tell me you ain't got tons of guys chasing around ya' anymore?"

"Oh, they're there," your tone matches his energy. "All these old ladies kept trying to introduce me to their sons a couple hours ago. Nevertheless, I gotta say..." He leaves the empty can on the bar across him. "Boys make me sick."

His eyes widen in surprise, but the rest of his face remained in composure. "How so?"

The atmosphere swiftly changes, a kind of heated tension rising to the top, palpable in your fingertips and waving in his chest.

"I've had my fair share of them," you explain playfully. "Guys my age never know what they want or what they're doing. I've decided to change my focus to men, instead."

He knows what you're up to. You can tell he does.

The question is: will he take the bait?

"Meaning?" Joel's lips curve around the orange filter in a smug smirk. You jerk your head to the right, setting the glass of wine aside.

"I'm not sure..." he laughs dryly at your hesitation.

"I think you are, sweetheart."

The abiding silence that followed that statement was nothing but electrifying. Clouds of burning tobacco linger around as you share an intense gaze, creating a solemn, intriguing ambience.

"Well, how am I supposed to tell you, out of all people, that I'm looking to get attended by an older man?" you rag. "Don't you think it's inappropriate?"

"Mhm," his grin is still visible under the dim, warm lights in the kitchen, "clever girl. I see what you're tryin' to do."

"I don't know what you mean," you murmur, scowling and intending to sound clueless.

He doesn't buy it.

"No-uh. You're many things, darlin', but dumb isn't one." He leans forward, his face barely inches away from yours, eyes scanning your features. Eventually, he decides to keep playing your little game. "Why's that, anyway?"

"See, Joel," you blow some smoke right under his nose, "boys I've been with always take. Everything's gotta be about themselves. I've never been the type to believe in relationships, but if they're gonna suck at that too, the least they could do is make you come, not leave you drier than a fucking desert." Your words daze his mind and he finds himself pending for something that he wasn't supposed to. "Shit- I'm sorry... I shouldn't talk like this."

"Damn right you shouldn't," he rasps out, "what would your dad think if he heard you?"

Joel Miller never considered himself a weak man. Not once in his life. It's not who he is.

But right now, under your curious, passionate gape, he's slowly crumbling.

"Good thing you aren't my dad, then."

His heart is pounding in expectation and confusion. He keeps thinking 'this can't be happening'. He tries to convince himself that it's all in his mind, like he did last time you were in Austin. But you bat your pretty eyelashes at him an it feels like you're begging to be taken away.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you know what you're asking for," he talks strictly, like you wouldn't actually understand. "Say this things to the wrong person and they might take advantage of you."

You laugh under your breath. "Are you the wrong person?"

He remains silent for a couple seconds, contemplating your question, meditating this whole parade in order to keep his head cold and ignoring the increasing heat that soared all around.

"M'not sure," he huffs.

It's true. He doesn't know anymore.

Your cig has burned out.

"I think you are, Mr. Miller."

Oh, such a clever girl indeed.

Suspense is killing him, like he's walking on the edge of a blade. Your closeness is intoxicating, the smell of your perfume gets him dizzy and his skin burned there where your limbs brushed against each other's. His lungs felt like crushing under the weight of anticipation.

"Quit beating around the bush," he downright demands. "Tell me what you want."

Honesty is a virtue; one you didn't lack with him.

"You," his chest puffs with a shaky breath. "Ever since we first met, you've been the only man in my mind."

Dangerous. This whole situation is dangerous.

But Joel would be lying if he said he didn't feel the same. That was the worst part of it.

For little more than a decade he had been perfectly content with his singleness; the sole thought of going on a date being absolutely terrifying. His best friend did try to set him up with a couple of his female acquaintances multiple times; yet he declined or merely accepted out of sympathy, never taking things further than a one night stand. Joel never expected that the one woman that would grasp his attention would be you.

He had never been into younger girls, at least not that young. But there was something enchanting about you. Whether it was your charming smile, your cunning eyes or your confident, determined nature that made all heads turn in your direction when you walked into a place.

Something about you bewitched him.

Perhaps it was none of that and he was simply depraved. Perhaps it was all of that and more.

For all he knew, you could've put a spell on him. Since your last visit, you had been on his mind like a mist that fogged his senses. He felt torn apart by his morals and desires, trying his best to get rid of the ghost of you.

That was until your dad told him you were coming back to stay for an undefined amount of time. What kind of sick game was fate playing with him?

"You tryin' to get me killed?" he locks a snarl behind his teeth.

His cigarette has burned out too.

"I know I'm asking for much," you say, "that I put you in a difficult position. With my dad and all 'at." Swallowing hard, you muster enough courage to raise a hand to his jacket, just laying your palm flat there. He allows it. "So I understand if you say no. You can decline and we’ll just act like nothing happened."

If Joel were a better man, he would've.

He definitely should have.

"It's okay. I can always call the next older lad on my hotline," you joke. "Your brother Tommy... I think he'll be interested."

He'd be damned.

No. Joel was just a man, and like every other, he could only take so much.

Quicker than you'd expect, his hand catches your wrist and moves your arm away from his body, the other raising your head up with two fingers under your chin. His face is so close to yours that his breath tickles your skin.

"Is that so?" his voice drops an octave. "You disappoint me, sweetheart."

Your legs quiver, feeling suddenly weak on the knees and hot on your lower abdomen. "How?"

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, staring down at you as if he had you wrapped around his finger. Truth be told, he really did.

"Thought there was a bit more fight in ya'," he whispers, letting go of your hand and laying his palm flat on your hip. "I haven't yet given my answer and you're already thinking of fucking my brother?"

You lick your lips nervously, glancing at his own and then back at his eyes. Your breathing pattern is completely altered and the ache between your legs starts to grow.

"Or was that just to tease me?" he asks with a grin.

"I don't know..." your hands clench in fists, wanting to touch him but wallowing in this new power dynamic. "Maybe."

"That's rather vague, darling." He takes a step forward, eradicating the distance that separated your bodies. "I'll ask again..." his fingers curl around your throat, not applying pressure but merely holding you in place. "What do you want?"

It's too late to look back now. Though you wouldn't think of it. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

Music to his ears.

He doesn't respond, eyes boring into yours intently. The unholy words that you spoke scatter his brain and all he wants to do is accept. But he wouldn't indulge so easily. If you wanted to play games, he'd teach you how to play better.

You tilt your head upwards, searching for his mouth with limited mobility. Your eyes briefly close at the feeling of your lips barely brushing against his own, waiting for him to kiss you. Except he does not, simply caressing the soft flesh teasingly.

Joel's body is flushed against yours, keeping you caged between the counter and him. The hand that rested on your hip gradually travels to your ass, splaying his fingers over your covered butt and giving a firm squeeze that makes you squeal. Every breath he takes is the very air you breathe. The proximity and his scent are slowly —but surely— making you lose your sanity.

"Such a pretty girl," he mutters hoarsely, "with such filthy thoughts." You look at him through heavy lids, gaining enough courage to move your hands to his broad chest. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Please, just- kiss me." The plea is so desperate and pathetic that it doesn't even sound like you.

"Can't do," he says at last. "If you want to be treated like a slut, you'll get treated like one. Sluts don't get kissed." You feel yourself get wet with his attitude, trying to clench your thighs together in order to create some friction. "I can't give you what you want, sweetheart. Not tonight, at least."

His lips move to your jawline, tracing open-mouthed kisses along your bare neck and collarbones that have you panting in seconds, his facial hair scratching your skin deliciously before coming back up again.

"But don't worry, angel," he pours into the shell of your ear, "I'll make sure you cum, since you want it so bad."

"Fuck, Joel-" you stutter when he abruptly spins your body around, his growing bulge grinding against your lower back.

His face nuzzles on the crook of your neck as his hand roams over your thigh, leisurely making its way beneath your dress. You feel his teeth lightly scraping your flesh, the hardness of his crotch poking your ass and your own arousal pooling in your panties.

"Jesus..." he groans when his fingers reach the dampness between your legs. "I've barely touched you and you're already soaked."

"I meant it when-" your sentence gets muffled by a strangled moan that escapes your lips, "when I said I've been wanting you for so long."

His body vibrates with a laugh, ruffling your hair with his breath. He starts rubbing small circles on your clit, making your whole body shiver and squirm while he pushes the fabric aside, gathering your slick with his index and spreading it all the way back to your bud, repeating his actions until your arousal covered his knuckles.

"Wanna know a lil' secret?" his voice comes out soothing and husky as he eases two digits inside you, stretching you out in a way that makes both of you groan. "I felt the same."

His fingers are thicker, bigger and rougher than yours, adding to a new, unlocked satisfaction you had not yet experienced.

Joel took his time to explore the spots that provided more pleasure, that had your hips chasing him and biting your lip to refrain from making noise. His other hand gropes your breast, caressing your delicate nipple over the thin fabric, easily done due to the lack of a bra. He keeps altering his ministrations, collecting the wetness from your core and bringing it up to your bundle of nerves, prior to sliding into your cunt again. All that can be heard in the kitchen are the squelching, utterly pornographic sounds of your pussy and your pitiful whines, inaudible to everyone but him.

"You like this, sweetheart?" he hums, feeling your sticky arousal drip down your thighs, rejoicing in your responsiveness to him. "Being fingered by a man twice your age while your dad's just a few steps away?"

You squeeze his thick fingers, picturing just how big his cock must be just from the boner pressing your back. "Y-yes..."

He simply loves the way he's got you so needy, coming undone with so little. You were easy to please, so he wondered how awful your past lovers must've been if they couldn't get you wet. A primal instinct surges on Joel, wanting to erase all of them from your mind, as he wanted to be the only man you ever think about if you're having an orgasm.

"That's my girl," he coos, thrusting his fingers at a nice pace, curling them upwards to hit that soft spot that made your knees tremble.

You hold onto the counter for dear life, throwing your head back and laying it on his chest. He sighs every time your cunt tightens around his digits, mesmerized by your enticing cries and whimpers that had him painfully hard in his jeans. The sensation is overwhelming, adrenaline filling both of you at the prospect of getting caught.

A burning sensation builds on your lower belly, tiny beads of sweat rolling down your temple at the incoming crescendo. His thumb kneads over your clit with the right amount of pressure and your body gives in to him, all tension melting away as your muscles relax.

"Just like that, darling." His deep voice reverberates through you, holding you up by the grip on your waist. "Take what I give you."

"Joel, Joel, Joel-" he chuckles once again at your delirious state, biting down the sensitive skin on your neck as he helps you carry out your high.

He pulls his fingers out and you mewl in complaint, mouth slightly agape. You can't see his face but you watch as he takes both his sticky fingers to his mouth, your chest rising and falling while trying to regain composure. He licks them clean, savoring your sweet taste and feeling his cock twitch from the mere idea of his tongue exploring your folds, taking that same flavor straight from the source.

"I'm not done with you," he growls, swirling your body around.

He's fucked up now. He has found his own, favorite drug between your thighs and can’t seem to stop himself from getting it. He had a small taste and now craved for more like he was a famished man.

"Can I get a kiss now?" Joel finds your insistence amusing.

Those eyes of yours were driving him insane, staring at him wildly, sparkling with an etching desire. Your lips were plumped and glossy, cheeks flushed red and hands fisting his shirt. Seeing this side of you was like displaying one of his darkest fantasies, the kind that would randomly appear in his dreams and had him waking up guilty and needy.

"No," he grumbles, cupping your face in his hand and forcing you to glance up at him. "Open up."

You obligue without hesitation, parting your lips shamelessly— which further spurs him on—. Almost instinctively, you already know what he's going to do, catching that inquiring look in his darkened eyes. With a light tap to his chest, you give him the green light and he spits right into your mouth. You don't think about it twice; in fact, you can't even process what you're actually doing, unconsciously swallowing down while keeping eye contact.

"Good girl," he purrs, caressing the side of your face with gentle stokes of his thumb.

His voice and praise send you to oblivion, managing to give you goosebumps. But Joel won't allow you to catch a break, glueing his lips to the hollow of your throat and making his way down, down, down, until he's kneeling before you, feeling the way you tense and shake for him. He grips your body strongly, the pads of his thumbs dipping on your hipbones as he rests his forehead on your lower abdomen, taking a deep breath in. Your hands run through his curls, tenderly grazing his scalp with your nails. 

The man feels as if he's wasted; your scent, all around him, on him, intoxicating every fiber on his body. He'd be haunted by it, by you, in the upcoming days.

He reaches beneath the hem of your dress, fingers skating along the band of your panties and tugging them down at a tortuous pace, meanwhile his eyes pierce your soul. Joel lets the drenched underwear pool at your ankles and drags the thin, satiny fabric all the way up to your tummy, inhaling sharply at the sight of your sticky slick covering your inner thighs.

"Fuck..." he touches you like you're sacred, like he was granted permission to do so but couldn't fully believe it. "Jesus Christ, you're beautiful," he mumbles when he coaxes your legs apart.

You blush at the comment, growing partially embarrassed. A shadow of pure lust covers his gaze as he stares at your exposed, wet cunt. He basks in the view of your damp skin and swollen clit, feeling his mouth water and his pants strain.

"Joel-"

"Forgive me, darlin'. Been a while since I..." he clears his throat, trying to regain hold of himself, "since I went down on a woman."

Your fingers tangle on his locks and you give him a reassuring smile. "You don't have to-"

"But I want to," Joel blurts out. "I need to taste you, sweetheart. Would you allow me to?"

Did he even need to ask?

"Yes- god. Please..."

It's all he had to hear. He leaves small kisses on your swollen lips, taking pleasure in your silent gasps as his mouth inched closer to your clit. Your hips buck against his face when his tongue finally landed on that sensitive bundle of nerves, making you moan a bit louder.

"Fucking hell," you babble, gripping his hair tighter.

He groans, his tongue flattening above your delicate bud and sucking on it. Joel can see in your face how hard you're trying to refrain from making any noise, your brows slightly furrowed and mouth partially open as you throw your head back. His chest swells with pride, knowing he's the one making you feel this good.

Then you have to hold yourself up when he suddenly hooks one hand around your calf and lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder to keep you open for him. His face buries between your thighs, tongue sliding across your wet folds and savoring your arousal mixed with your previous release. He uninhibitedly whimpers, lapping up the slick that kept pouring out of you, devouring your pussy like he had never had anything as good.

The man can't take it anymore, he's reached his limit. One of his hands snake down to fumble at his belt, as he sloppily palms his bulge through the briefs, trying to get some relief. He's drunk, feral, when he eats you out most earnestly, finding your weak spots rather quickly— the ones that made you shiver, that made you shut your eyes from sheer pleasure or grind against his face, but specially the ones that had you tugging harshly at his hair.

"Joel- please, I'm so close..." you cry out lowly, the only thing that kept you standing being his hand on your waist.

His beard makes your skin feel feverish and it's nearly impossible for you to hold back a whine when his nose grazes your clit and right in that instant you're coming hard, nerves buzzing and ears ringing. You feel lightheaded, white spots appearing in front of your eyes as the orgasm rips through you intensely. He drinks you down, licking you clean as if it was a crime not to, and you gasp at the overstimulation.

He helps you steady yourself as he gets back on his feet, hovering above you. His lips were shining with saliva and your own juices, dripping down to his chin. You breathe rapidly, pulse still racing while you look up at him with glassy eyes.

It's right in this moment when Joel knows for certain that he'd do it all again, consequences be damned.

If he was going to hell for what he'd done, then he would gladly do it, knowing that he had seen heaven the moment his tongue was inside you.

"Did I live up to your expectations, sweetheart?"

Instead of replying, your hand shoots to his jaw, the pad of your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He lets out a shaky exhale and you don't miss the opportunity to finally lean in for a kiss. And despite his previous declines to your wish, Joel happily corresponded. You taste him and yourself when his mouth explores yours in depth, feeling his unsteady heartbeat against your own chest.

It's madness; a blur of wet, messy kisses as your hand coasts down his pants and underneath his briefs. You swallow down his lewd moans when you grasp his throbbing length, a deep groan coming from his throat when you circle the tip with one finger, coating it with his leaking precome. He takes your wrist to prevent you from going any further.

"Enough of that," he grunts, still not pushing your hand away. "I'm too worked up, I don't wanna be coming in my pants like a goddamned teenager."

You respect his decision, drawing your hand back and guiding your fingers to your lips with a cheeky smile. Fucking tease.

"I think it'd be hot," you murmur, dragging the words and leaning next to his ear. "Maybe afterwards I can help you clean up the mess..." you carefully nip at his earlobe, delighting in the way his body jumped and a sigh escaped him. "With my mou-"

"Fuuuck..." the mental image you were describing was not helping his situation. "We- we’ll do that next time.”

And before you can move a muscle, he gives you a soft forehead kiss and rearranges his pants, asking you to say goodbye to your dad in his behalf as he sneaked out. You stand there for a couple of minutes, dumbfounded and completely blown away from your post-orgasm bliss, still processing that all this had actually happened and it was not just another of your sexual fantasies and daydreams.

Joel was in a similar position. In spite of taking a cold shower and fucking his fist in the meantime, tonight's events kept being relived every time he closed his eyes, making him yearn for you all over again. It was a tough night of not much sleeping.

He thinks he might feel guilty in the morning.

Maybe he should. But he honestly doesn't.

Not even when he faces your dad the next day and he tells him how happy he is to have his darling daughter back home.

Nor do you. There's not a hint of guilt in your body when you go to his house in the next few days, solely to spend time with Sarah. No shame in the looks you share, regardless of the little to zero time you could spend together, always being surrounded by other people.

None of that mattered. All the while, the only question that roams your minds is: when will you do it again?

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 14

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 14 - Hold Space

Tags: Swearing, panic attack, drinking, mentions of past sexual abuse and alcoholic parent. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 7.2k

AO3

The team landed back in D.C. early Sunday night and you all scattered back to the comforts of your own homes. It was an exhausting time in New Mexico, but the team was thankful for a positive outcome before the unsub, Gabriel Arellano, targeted another victim. Of course, JJ, Lewis, and Alvez were not tired enough to interrogate you all about chasing the unsub down for an arrest. They were riveted to your animated tale with Rossi chiming in about how he was quite alive and healthy despite Garcia’s concerns. Prentiss occasionally added in details when appropriate and without the chip on her shoulder she’s been carrying around for over a week. No one is entirely sure how things were patched up between the two of you, only Rossi sharing with the others that the talk you and Prentiss had at the crime scene went well.

No one knows just how well and the two of you are planning on keeping it that way. You both have people that care about you a lot that have pushed you in this direction, but taking this next step together would remain between the two of you until you were both comfortable informing the team, your brothers and sister, and Brian. Most importantly, you both wanted to see how this went without extra drama. The two of you were perfectly capable of doing that together without any help.

For now, Sunday night was enjoying a bottle of Stella as you pulled out ingredients to make dinner grabbing, salt, pepper, oil, butter, and some thyme to go with the steak you picked up at the Safeway Grocery store that was within walking distance. Once Prentiss approved of you being out in the field, you learned quickly to keep essentials at home and fill in perishable items as needed or pack them in the freezer.

Everything was neatly lined up on the counter with the ribeye resting in the package while you were trimming the green beans with the chef’s knife. You set it aside to use your hand to sweep the ends into the other when a chime went off on your phone.

You dump the remains into the compost bin, wash your hands and dry them off with the kitchen towel you throw over your shoulder and see who it is.

Overlord sent 2034: You free Friday night after work?

You laugh, realizing you’re going to have to change Emily’s name again. For now, you keep it because it’s too funny to see her name like this.

Whitlock sent 2036: I guess it depends if the bad guys do not make plans for me?

Whitlock sent 2036: And if my boss isn’t going to be a bitch again.

Whitlock sent 2036: 😉

Overlord sent 2036: I said I was sorry!

Overlord sent 2039: Oh. You were joking.

Whitlock sent 2041: I suppose my brilliance does not translate well over text for you yet. Your profiling skills are limited now. Oh darn. 🤔

Overlord sent 2042: You’re a lot more confident over text then you were in NM. Memory serves, you could barely look at me.

“Ugh,” you half groan and laugh at that before leaning against the counter. She had you there. Text was easier to be silly and flirty since you didn’t have to stare into intense brown orbs that radiate confidence that actually made you feel giddy - not pretend play with a mark who looked similarly at you.

That made you look up curiously at admitting that to yourself.

You didn’t have to pretend.

You acknowledge Prentiss was attractive early on with her natural silver-grey hair and facial lines that held emotional history as much as linear. She cut a gorgeous figure in her work clothes and she’s a handful of people that weren’t placating you that she understood where you were coming from. Because she did, to an extent, and would know where to end it and be empathetic. It was naturally easy for you to be open with her because she was a CIA spy, your current role until you joined the BAU. The gritty reality of what that means instead of the glorified action and adventure movies and shows make it out to be, or even the ones that try to emulate the truth still never nail it down. You really have to be staring at life and death at all times while being in character or you’re dead. All of characters you play at forces you to kill a part of yourself and hide it.

But there were also the parts that weren’t so grim that made you adore her. You always loved how Emily’s face lit up when she laughed and how her nose scrunched when she was cheeky. Or how she licks her lips in thought, a seemingly subconscious habit that didn’t have a pattern that you noticed. And yes, you tried figuring it out. You only surmised it wasn’t due to dry lips because Emily’s lips never looked that way. And yes, you looked at her lips a lot and wondered what it would feel like to kiss them.

Your thoughts were disturbed by a chime, and you look down at your phone.

Overlord sent 2048: Did I scare you off already? 😉

You brightly grin reading that. This was the Emily that you slowly allowed into your life and its numerous secrets that you barely scratched the surface with her. Your mind starts wandering down a scary road of what ifs again, but you swallow down your fears for now. You can worry about logistics after figuring out if you and Emily actually worked.

Whitlock sent 2050: Nope.

Overlord sent 2050: All I get is a nope?

Whitlock sent 2051: Yep! Hah.

Overlord sent 2051: Ha ha. Then how about an answer to my question. You like avoiding them.

Whitlock sent 2054: Yes, I’m free Friday. Unless Brian calls me for something. Which is not likely.

Whitlock sent 2054: And this is a for real CIA call in and not made up before you say ANYTHING

Overlord sent 2055: Wouldn’t dream of it. See you tomorrow?

This baffles you because of course you’re seeing her tomorrow. Why would Emily say something so pedestrian?

Then you smack your forehead. “Fucking idiot,” you mutter to yourself. She was ending the communication politely because it was getting late.

Whitlock sent 2057: You know it. Now off to my date with a steak.

You look at your text and decide to add a little more, realizing you didn’t want to end the conversation so soon.

Whitlock sent 2058: What’s for dinner on your end?

And then your phone rings. It’s Overlord’s name staring back at you. You pick it up and answer perplexedly. “Uh … hi?”

“Hello to you, too. And to answer your questions.”

Your eyes narrow because you only had one question, not multiple to warrant a plural.

“Based on the menus currently on my table, Chinese or pizza. And I called because I felt it was not only quicker to talk this way, I wanted to hear your voice instead.”

If you could melt, you’d be a puddle on the floor with how sweet that is. “Maybe your profiling skills are better over text than I thought.”

“Hm. And why’s that?” she asks with her voice dropping an octave lower, making your shiver.

“Uh … cuz I kinda didn’t want our conversation to end just yet,” you admit with such ease that surprises you.

“Mm. Me too. I just wanted to be polite since it’s late after a long case.”

You can hear her smiling into the phone as her voice goes back to its usual cadence. And fuck it all, you’re smiling like a fool too knowing you both felt the same. “Yeah?”

That’s all you have to say because you are dumbstruck with her honesty. You hear her chuckle softly and say your name. “Yes.”

“Well, to be fair. You need to eat and take out’s gonna be at least an hour if you don’t get on that soon. I don’t want you starving.” You pull the phone back and put her on speaker to free up your hands to work on dinner. You grab the green beans you trimmed and bring them over to the sink where the strainer is waiting for them. You turn on the water and start rinsing. Normally you’d soak them overnight, but you weren’t waking your ass up that early to cook. “You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“What’re you doing?” she asks and then a sense of concern bubbles forth that you can’t control.

“Wait. Are you at the office?” you say, partly accusing.

“No. I’m actually home.”

“I’m glad to hear that despite Armageddon coming.”

“Funny.” Her tone is sarcastic and amused. “But what’re you doing? I hear the water going.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve deduced you’re on speaker.”

“Indeed.”

“Kinda need both hands to cook.”

“Wait. You’re cooking?” she can’t hide her shock, and it makes you frown.

“Why is that so surprising?” you ask, taking the green beans from the strainer to the pan waiting for them. It wasn’t hot yet, unlike the steak pan that you wanted smoking hot.

“Well, I suppose it isn’t. I just didn’t know you can cook.”

You hum thoughtfully and take the ribeye out of the wrappings and place it on the cutting board to trim. It was a lot for one person, but you were making a few meals out of this for work, too. “We don’t know a lot about each other yet so everything's going to be new, and maybe a surprise because of preconceived notions. For instance, can you cook?”

She laughs. “A little ... well, no. Not really. I know some basics and a couple of dishes Dave’s taught me. But left to my own devices? I’ll just burn everything.”

You chuckle. “And now I know why you live on takeout.”

“Unfortunately.” She pauses there as you set aside your knife once satisfied with how the steak looks. You then season with salt and pepper and flip the steak over with a soft thunk to generously prepare the other side, too. The silence was quite comfortable, and you imagine that Emily was picturing what you were doing based on sounds alone.

“Well, maybe if things go well, I can not only feed you properly, but I can also teach you how to cook,” you say offhandedly.

“Or you could feed me properly now.”

Emily boldness stops you in mid salting. “Uh …”

You can hear how smug she is at making you lose your words. “It’s merely a suggestion, honey.”

Now your eyes widen with the pet name that had only been used playfully as co-workers. This was definitely an escalation of its use here as Emily’s voice held a soft purr at the end of the word. Would this be a good idea right now to entertain Emily at your apartment, or should you both wait for a proper date? Though was anything about your life proper? That is a resounding no. Your life became a fucked up story since your dad first put his hands on you and your mother ignored it all with booze.

Fuck it. You return back to seasoning the steak and go digging for more information. “And why are you offering said suggestion besides you being hungry.”

“Truthfully?”

“The only kind I like right now when it comes to us,” you declare with raw honesty.

“Well, we can wait until Friday if you’re more comfortable with that, but I’d like to try and spend more quality time with you to make up for all the bullshit that I put you through this past week. I can’t change what I did, but if you’re open for it, I’d just really like to see you again that isn’t involving work.”

Warmth spreads through your heart and you can’t stop your mouth from answering positively. “Then come over.”

You surmise it takes Emily by surprise how quickly you agree as she has to take a few seconds to respond. Her voice is tentative. “Are you sure?”

You lean over the counter and nod to yourself, physically making sure you truly are okay with this. “I am. I’ve got enough food for two, and then some. Just won’t have as much leftovers for work now, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for you.”

She chuckles. “Only if you’re sure …”

You smile. “I am.”

“Then I’ll be over shortly. Say twenty minutes?”

You open your eyes and remember how close Emily lives to you. “Uh …” You wince, utterly annoyed that this woman can render you stupid with an inability to speak properly.

“Is that too soon?” she asks cautiously. Perhaps Emily was reconsidering based on your reaction.

“No!” You slam your eyes shut with how desperate you sound. “I mean. That’s fine. Dinner should be ready then.”

“Are you sure this okay with you? If it isn’t, I’m fine with delaying this until the weekend.”

Emily is very thoughtful and the affection that you have for her overtakes the nervousness you feel. “Yes, it is. Really. Just, can we … uh … just, ya know? Keep this chill? Don’t go crazy with it being a date. Though I guess it kinda is. I mean, maybe a … pre-date.”

What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?

“I’ll come as is.”

Thankfully Emily doesn’t think anything is wrong with you. “Well, don’t come barefoot. You need shoes or something.”

She chuckles. “See you soon.”

After you hang up with Emily, you focus on making dinner. You’ve done this dish countless times, but this is the first time making it for someone you want to impress, not needing to. You cover the beans and set it to simmer and put the steak in the over to finish off before setting the table. You keep it simple and set it like you would eat but for two with the added salt and pepper shakers in case Emily needs them. You do opt for wine glasses and wait for her to arrive so she can pick out what you have on hand, which is limited since you weren’t the big wine drinker like Emily.

And then you realize you should have asked Emily to bring a bottle she liked. “Dumbass,” you mutter, while staring down at the square table set for two just as there was a knock at the door.

Your head snaps up in that direction and you close your eyes to take a deep breath. When you open your eyes, you take one last look at yourself, still wearing your CIA shirt, black sweats and bare feet. You wiggle your toes nervously and consider putting on socks, but you asked Emily to come casual and you should, too.

Walking to the door, you’re telling yourself not to be nervous and when you confirm through the peephole that it’s Emily, that plan goes out the window. She completed the assignment as coming as is and ended up way over dressed than you since she was still in her work clothes. They were wrinkled from wear, so there’s that, and she had her hair pulled back in a messy bun with a few strands left flowing around her face. You smile and laugh wordlessly seeing that she wore a pair of sneakers and carries a bottle of wine.

Knowing you can work with this; your nerves calm some as you open the door. “Right on time,” you announce with a smile that she immediately matches.

Her eyes absorb every detail of yours and you feel naked under her penetrating gaze. With a small purse of her lips, she holds up a bottle of cabernet. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I was feeling really dumb for not telling you to bring something,” you admit while stepping aside. “Come on in.” When you close the door, you point to the kitchen counter. “You can put it there.”

“It smells amazing in here,” Emily says while scanning the kitchen for the source of the delicious smells. She does see a covered pan on the stove and a breadbasket next to the bottle she set down. She could feel the warmth coming from the sliced-up baguette and smiles at the added touch.

“Let me get your coat.” You approach Emily from behind and take the long black coat by the collar as she adjusts her arms to assist you.

“Thanks.” She tucks her hands into pants pockets and watches you hang up her coat in the hallway closet. You’re hiding it well, but she can tell you’re nervous by how thoughtfully precise you were in smoothing out her coat and making extra space for it when you hung it up. You purposefully left gaps on either side of it so nothing would touch it.

“Want me to pour the wine?” She’s hoping the light conversation will make this more familiar and comfortable.

“Uh, sure. Corkscrew’s in the drawer on the right next to the sink.”

She works taking off the foil as you come padding back into the kitchen like you owned it. Your moves were comfortable, dare say adept, at opening the oven and taking out the pan that was heating in there with a plain oven mitt. She couldn’t help an adoring smile that graces her lips as you kick the oven close with a bare foot.

You’re ignorant of Emily’s gaze but hear her rummaging through the drawer for the corkscrew as you test the steak. You nod, liking the feel for a medium rare, toss the kitchen towel over your shoulder and let it rest. Your focus was putting the green beans in a serving bowl you have never used but this is the first time entertaining someone at this location.

When you turn around, Emily’s pouring the wine, and you take that moment for a silent breath. You grab the breadbasket along the way to the table. You didn’t get a good look at the bottle, but it looks fancy. “What did you bring?”

“A Chateau Palmer Bordeaux.” She rattles it off so casually like the bottle doesn’t go for several hundred dollars.

“There was a memo about keeping this chill.”

“And why isn’t this chill?” There is confusion in her voice as Emily sets the bottle down. “This goes well with steak.”

Your fingers rub at your forehead, eyes squinting in bewilderment. “Because that company only makes bottles that are the cheapest at a hundred bucks.”

Her eyebrows raise with puzzlement. “And?”

“That’s way too much on a chill dinner …” You bring your hand down and gesture wildly at the space between the two of you. “…thing. This dinner thing we’re having.”

With a silent oh, she approaches you and takes your hands in hers. Her thumbs press firmly against the top of your hands and start to rub circles once you don’t back away from the closeness. “I wanted to bring it. Consider it a gift since you’re gifting me with an actual home cooked meal.”

She tests the waters further and takes a step forward, causing your joined hands to rise upwards between the two of you. You bring your eyes up and gaze into serene ones. Emily’s posture was calm and inviting, her lips parting in a slight smile. There was nothing for you to fear and you feel your body lose some of its tension and squeeze her hands back. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Her voice is soft and gently wants to confirm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod and her eyes sparkle with affection.

“Good.” Emily takes it a step further and leans forward to press a chaste kiss against your cheek. Your body experiences warmth throughout from the gentle display that felt natural between the two of you. You feel the brush of her nose graze along your cheek for just a moment before she was back searching your eyes for any discomfort. Seeing none, she coyly drops her head towards the table. “Shall we eat then?”

You eagerly nod. “Yeah. Take a seat and I’ll be right there.”

The two of you share a smile and a lingering touch of fingers taking their time to unwind from one another so you could get back to the kitchen. With renewed purpose, you take the butter near the stove that you placed there to help soften it up and put it on the island counter so it wouldn’t start to melt. Then you focus on slicing the meat and grin proudly that the juices remain intact from resting. You slide the knife under the strips to plate and bring everything over to Emily, who was sitting and enjoying a sip of the wine.

Her eyes light up, impressed with your skills, and compliments. “Are you sure I’m not at a Michelin Star restaurant? This looks steak house quality.”

You blush as you put everything down on the table. “Thanks. I got bored a lot on assignments. And when I could,” you then take the seat across from Emily and shrug, “I learned how to cook.”

“A worthwhile skill to master.” She eagerly brings her hands up but then slowly curls them closed. “Ah …”

Her eyes are questioning, and you chuckle, making your nervously bouncing leg stop so you can gesture over the food. “Please!’

As Emily fills her plate, you follow soon after, until you have both forks and steak knives ready in hand. You wait on digging in as you want to see Emily’s response to your cooking firsthand and closely observe her cutting off a piece of steak and begin to bring it to her mouth.

You’re feeling confident and wanting to tease her, so you bring up your steak knife and point it at her with an impish grin and teasing eyes before she could get the morsel into her mouth. “You dare ask for steak sauce; I’m kicking you outta here.”

Her mouth clamps shut before nodding once quickly. “Noted.”

You observed one another – Emily noticing how your lips were trying to remain even, though the edges were twitching in anticipation, and you seeing how delighted she was by this with the softest hint of her eyes narrowing. And damn it, you couldn’t help slowly leaning over the table in time with her fork.

Her eyes widened with approval as the first taste of flavor hits her senses. “Oh my god” She blinks several times in awe while moaning appreciatively. “This is so fucking good.”

You are overwhelmingly happy by Emily’s response and your face lights up with a radiant smile. Did you ever feel genuinely happy like this in your life? You’re having trouble matching this emotion to anything else that was considered good in your experience but come up short. To add to the moment, Emily winks at you and adds. “Putting steak sauce on this would be an atrocity. So, I guess I can stay, huh?”

You look away and lightly rub your tongue behind your lower lip modestly. When you look up, Emily was still enjoying the first bite and cutting the next while looking at you coyly. “Yeah,” you chuckle. “I guess you can stay.”

The two of you share a warm smile and as you start cutting your steak, you begin to realize that this wasn’t so difficult. It was just like sharing a meal in Emily’s office, the two of you being playful and chatting it up as usual, minus the pretense that the two of you actually felt something more heightened than friendship.

You’re starving from a long flight and barely eaten anything besides jet food and an apple that you munched on while walking home from the store. With the gusto that Emily is attacking her plate, you figure she was equally as hungry. The first strips of steak and handful of beans disappeared without a word spoken and finally Emily considers you while sipping her wine. The hairs on the back of your neck rise with dread.

The time for small talk during a date has arrived.

In your panic, you remind yourself that this is just you and Emily talking. You’ve done this many a time before. Be cool.

Emily swirls the wine in her glass as she regards you. “Is it possible to revisit a question I once had but you couldn’t answer?”

“Uh, which one? You got quite a few of those,” you laugh, that simple act helping your body to relax against the chair with bread in hand.

You take a bite of it when Emily chuckles too. “Well, I was thinking since I’m sitting here with you now when few know where you are … if you can now tell me how you joined the CIA?” She asked her question quite thoughtfully by how slowly she asked it. This had been a source of contention between you and Emily wanted to avoid yet another misunderstanding.

“Hm.” Your brows furrow as you finish chewing your food. Can you? Should you? Will you even be able to verbalize all the shit you’ve been through without scaring her off?

Charlie said Emily wouldn’t be so easily frightened but there’s no way of knowing how she’d react. Not until you take that dive. Take that chance.

“Hm is more of an answer than I got last time,” Emily teases gently.

That makes you laugh. “True. It’s more logistics now. You do have some sense of clearance now. How much tho?”

Her brows raise up in wonder. “I’m not entirely sure. It was only on a verbal okay versus anything on paper.”

“Ah. Fair enough.” You sit up to angle your hand into your pocket to pull out your phone.

“What’re you doing?”

“Texting Brian.”

“… for?” She’s on alert and sets her glass down.

Whitlock sent 2147: Hey, how much clearance did you give Emily?

You place the phone down on the table face up. ”To see how much I can tell ya.”

“Oh, shit. That’s unnecessary, really.” She taps a fingernail on the side of the wine glass. “You’re under no obligation to share. I’m sure Korogoth’s got better things to do anyway.”

Your phone buzzes but you don’t look at it yet. You’re focusing on Emily. “You’ll see that Brian makes time for me or as soon as he can if he’s busy. But really, Emily?” You wait it out until she looks at you and you give her a promising smile with the next words you declare to her. “I also want to tell you.”

You hear her softly gasp as you pick up the phone to read Brian’s message.

Dad sent 2150: Oh, it’s Emily now?

You roll your eyes as you respond back, which piques Emily’s curiosity. “What did he say?’

Whitlock sent 2155: You going to answer the question or not?

“Nothing. Just being an ass,” you grunt in response.

She shakes her head, tongue in cheek. “Wow. Never thought I’d be around someone who casually calls the director of the CIA an ass.”

Your mischievous eyes catch mirthful brown ones. “Be around me long enough and you’ll be hearing a lot more colorful adjectives describing him.”

Emily throws her head back with laughter and it makes your heart sing with joy. Then you scowl at seeing the message from Brian.

Dad sent 2156: What’s her question.

Whitlock sent 2156: How I joined the CIA.

Emily silently studies your face as she sips. She can tell you are taking this very seriously with your focus being on the conversation you’re having with Korogoth.

Dad sent 2158: She doesn’t need to know.

Fuck, that’s the usual answer given but he won’t be expecting your next response.

Whitlock sent 2159: I want her to know.

You stare at the screen for a minute, but nothing comes. Your teeth clench together in disappointment at the lack of response and pick up your fork. Sensing the answer to her own question, Emily offers a sympathetic smile. “It’s alright. There’s other things we can talk about.”

But your phone goes off again and you use your left hand to get the message. Emily takes the moment to pick up a green bean by hand to nibble on.

Dad sent 2204: And now I know why she is Emily now. Go for it.

“Huh.” You can’t help but slip out your surprise.

“Is everything okay?” Emily tentatively asks while rolling another green bean in hand.

“Uh, yeah.”

Whitlock sent 2205: Thanks Brian. Really.

“Said I could talk to you about it.” You take a moment to mentally prepare yourself for this conversation. It’s one you haven’t had to speak of in a couple decades.

Dad sent 2205: Stop talking to me and go talk to her! I want no more communication from you until then!

“Oh my god!” You start giggling and without thinking, show Emily the last text from Brian. “I think he approves.”

“What?” She squints to read it and then blanches. “You … you didn’t tell him we were seeing each other, did you?”

“No!” You’re still laughing. “He figured it out just now.”

“And you have him in as dad?!” She can’t hide the astonishment from her voice as she points to the contact name.

Do you, or don’t you reveal another special name?

You nod, because you do, though Emily took the nod as a reaction to her own response at you calling the CIA director dad in your phone.

You waggle your brows. “Wanna see my favorite contact name?”

She shrewdly assesses your roguish grin and eyes that sparkle with a hidden agenda. “I’m gonna regret this aren’t I?”

You bring the phone back and close the text with Brian and bring up Emily’s details. “Maybe. But to be fair, I do need to update it again.”

Emily cants her head to the side with concern. “Again?”

“Yeah. I had to change it back to this,” you hold the phone up facing her once again and right there in bold letters shows the name Overlord Prentiss, “but you know, my boss was kinda being a dick to me.”

Emily humbles with soft, widening eyes, and a long face as she digests this information. “Um …” Her head dips forward as if she swallowed something bad and licks her lips. “… how long have you had this nickname for me?”

“After the first frosty encounter.”

“So, day one.”

“Yep.” You bring the phone back to edit her name. “After drinks at Buddy’s, I did change it.”

Emily opens her mouth with understanding. “Then the fight after Hayden happened.”

“Aye.” You show her the updated name with a smile. “Better?”

It now said Silver Fox.

Her eyes narrow with approval, a slight smirk starting to form as she catches your gaze and when she speaks, her voice drops lower and becomes slightly raspy. “Well, I certainly like that one better. A lot better …”

Your cheeks flush, cursing your body’s response, but soon you’re craning your neck to see why Prentiss was taking out her phone. She only offers a flirtatious smirk as she scrolls and types out something before presenting the screen to you.

Your name has become Hot Rod in her contacts, and you immediately laugh with delight. “Oh my god, I love it!”

And you truly do as the shyness that had overtaken you is replaced with that familiar affection that had been growing for some time. Your eyes soften and you start to reach over the table to take her hand without thinking but force it to stop as this was all new to you. Are you supposed to do this when you have true feelings for someone and not seducing someone to your will? What is normal in these situations?

Emily sees your hesitation and closes the distance with her free hand and immediately your fingers lace together. Her flirtatious demeanor has tempered into a shared moment of understanding that this was more than a casual dinner after all. It had become another apology from Emily and confirmation that the feelings you have burgeoning between the two of you are more than just physical.

Your heart races as you see Emily’s brown eyes grow intensely warm with soft brows arching upwards. You squeeze her hand, clinging to the moment and then your phone goes off again. You feel your eyes brimming with wetness from the emotions that were foreign to the chemical makeup inside your brain.

You force a swallow, and your mouth opens with an apology. “Sorry. I … uh, I need, to uh, need to get that.”

Emily holds onto your hand. “Can’t it wait?”

She was distracted by the intimacy that it didn’t register that the notification was from a different phone. You shake your head sadly. “It’s the burner phone.”

“Fucking Sicarius.” She hisses and reluctantly releases your hand before smoothing out her features in order to focus.

You rise with purpose and are all business as you approach the living room table to pick up the burner phone. It’s the number you gave Sicarius to contact you. If he tried to run a search on the number, he would learn nothing except you cover your tracks like he does. You unlock the phone and read the message.

+18042876389 sent 2241: Tomorrow 12pm EST

“We’re on for tomorrow at noon.” You explain and type a simple response back.

+18318269346 sent 2245: Confirmed

“I’m letting Garcia know.” You look up and see Emily on her phone and note the warmth of her voice had become clipped and informal.

“Should we have the whole team present?”

She looks up thoughtfully. “Are you comfortable with the audience?”

“Doesn’t bother me in the least,” you answer truthfully. You had far bigger groups witnessing you pretend play on a call. “Garcia’s gonna run the call so everyone hears, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then more profiling ears the better.” You look down at the phone and know there will be no further communication tonight, so you lock it down and place it back on the table.

Agreeing with your assessment, Emily brings up her calendar and schedules a meeting first thing in the morning with the entire team to brief everyone on this project you, her, and Penelope have been working on. She attaches a file that goes over the synopsis of this undercover operation, including the backstory that was created for you. Garcia has already responded back that she’ll have everything ready for the 12pm call and for the briefing.

You slide back onto the chair at the dinner table and notice you have a notification of a new event at work. You look up at Emily, who was still busy organizing the logistics of what that simple text meant for the BAU. It was a tremendous lead. It also meant you were now in serious danger if things went sideways like it did for Green. But unlike him, you were driven by the mission, not a vendetta. You know how to remain cautious like with any shift into undercover work and will remain true to character. It got you this far in life and in your career. Now it would assist the BAU in apprehending a serial killer.

“Decided it should be a viewing party for the whole crew?” You mention casually while grabbing another piece of bread.

She hums in agreement. “Makes sense having everyone there.” Emily sets her phone down with a sigh before running the palms of her hands over her face, the loose strands of her bun following with her. She was visibly irritated by how the mood was interrupted, not necessarily that it was.

“Sucks.” Your voice is gruff as you speak which makes Emily look over at you with confusion. “First date ever and a fucking psycho had to ruin it.” You end it with a humorless smirk.

She ended up laughing which parted the gloomy cloud that had overtaken the mood. “Gotta love the timing of these things in our line of work.” She sighs in resignation over at you. “It’s close to midnight and there’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

In other words, Emily was politely excusing herself for home.

“Counter point to what you’re gonna say.” Your body is taking over your mouth despite your mind telling you to shut the fuck up, but Emily doesn’t dispute what you mean and gazes at you inquisitively as the silent invitation to continue this proposal. “Well,” you start and then jut your jaw out nervously. “You could just stay …”

Your uncertainty makes her eyes widen. “Stay?”

“Yeah. Cuz uh, you, uh, don’t live far and if you stay, we can kinda pick up talking and stuff.” You visibly wince. God you suck at this. How did you do this convincingly with marks?

“Stuff?” Emily teases with a brow smoothing out as the other turns coy.

And now your cheeks are burning with the nebulous definition of stuff. Your words come quickly, riddled with anxiety. “You know.”

She shakes her head no with that smug flirtatious smirk never leaving Emily’s face.

“You, you brought the wine. Expensive wine that we, uh, you know, didn’t drink much of. And I’m willing to bet Brian gave you a parking pass so you didn’t have to drive around all over the fucking place to find one.”

Now Emily was holding her head up by the chin with a resting elbow, finding your ramblings attractively adorable. “Indeed, he did.”

“So, yeah.” You hand finds purchase on the wine stem, so you have something to hold onto as a way to ground your thoughts. It really doesn’t help. “You live close. Can just go back to your place in the morning to change. Since, driving after that much wine isn’t a good idea.”

She shakes her head in agreement. “No, it is not.”

“But … to be … clear.” Your eyes catch her playful ones but yours reflect a hint of fear. “Guest room for now. I mean, it’s just our first time doing this and I haven’t done this ...ever. And I’m starting to wonder what the ever-loving fuck I’m doing and why aren’t you fucking saying anything because I’m rambling …. Which is why you’re not saying anything. Fuck.”

Your breathing is quick and shallow and now you’re on the verge of a full-on panic attack. The grip on the wine glass becomes forceful and you wonder if it’ll snap because you probably just ruined whatever was happening between the two of you. Why did you listen to fucking Charlie?

However, it is not with pity or ridicule or even disgust that Emily looks at you.

It was sympathy and care. Emily wasn’t judging you at all and she surprises you further when she rises and comes to your side of the table with an open hand. She gestures for you to take it, not forcing anything and simply gazes down at you and gently speaks. “Come here.”

You look dubiously from Emily’s face to her hand and then back up again, not moving from your spot. Emily’s smile is tender as she tries again. “Please.”

Well fuck it. How can you say no to that. Well, you can and if you did, you just know Emily would respect that, but the part of you craving the simplest of intimacies with her that only blossomed from the chaste kiss against your cheek, wanted to reach out and take a chance. It was why you said yes to going out with her after stopping Emily from running off with the misinterpretation of your words. You have a feeling Emily was beginning to understand how difficult this was for you to be clear with intent. So now, she offers a chance to calm your spiraling thoughts.

You take her hand, and with it, you place trust in this woman not to hurt you. Because you know that this meant you were all in if she was, which is why you desperately need to talk. Why you want Emily to stay because if she leaves now, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to talk about the simplest, yet complicated, manner in how you joined the CIA.

Sensing you weren’t going to move; Emily gently tugs your hand to motivate you into standing up. You were expecting Emily to say something at first, but you are surprised that she pulls you into a hug instead. You are stiff, unaccustomed to this level of intimacy in a long time that was not initiated by you. Her free hand slips around your waist as she steps into your personal space while letting go of your hand so she can slide her fingers along your shoulder and then neck. In the next breath that was taken by you, you’re fully pressed against one another and Emily’s cheek glides against your own as she leans in further.

Your eyes are blinking back tears, your body overwhelmed with connection that you honestly can’t remember the last time you had it felt this visceral. You begin trembling and Emily reassures you with a gentle promise. “I’ve got you.”

Immediately your hands curl under Emily’s arms and fiercely grip her shoulders while burying your face against the crook of her neck. You inhale the lingering scent of cigarettes and citrus. You couldn’t distinguish if it was the perfume or hair products she wore, but it was a heady sensation that made you grip Emily tighter for continued comfort. Her nails gently scratch at the back of your neck and graze upwards, tangling into your hair. You have no idea how long you held each other, and it was no surprise that Emily stirred first. Her nose nuzzles into your hair before her lips replace it. The pattern continues – nuzzles and soft kisses that coax you from your hiding spot against her neck until your eyes met.

Your chest clenches under Emily’s warm gaze, her dilating eyes searching yours intently. Whatever she was looking for must have been confirmed because she was soon closing the distance between you further, allowing enough time for you to pull away if you were unsure. But you didn’t pull away. No. You wait until you felt the brush of Emily’s soft lips against your own before closing your eyes. You felt unmoored from reality but what was different than all the other times you found yourself in this unwanted position with others, is that your mind didn’t dissociate on instinct to protect itself. You stay in the moment, tasting the wine on her lips and how they’re firm against yours, not forceful, and feel a gentle sigh escaping Emily’s nose as the air brushes against your face.

This was your first real kiss, and it was perfection.

You respond just as gently and after a moment, Emily pulls back leaving the kiss soft and brief but not letting you go just yet. She brings your forehead to hers, keeping you both connected, and you know her eyes are closed just like yours, not ready to relinquish the intimacy.

“I’d love to stay. Like you asked.” She acknowledges not only your wish but your boundaries as well.

“Yeah?” you ask again but it was with breathless excitement.

You can feel her smiling by how her forehead pinches against yours. “Yeah.”

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[doctorbunny]

More serious summary of the livestream

Unfortunately I can't provide a full translation because the entire time I was watching in autistic excitement like 😊🥰🤩 whilst my brain melted out my ears and didn't pick up on a lot

Luckily, I have a feeling someone will get around to translating this stream eventually since they finally had the BGM on a lower volume so everyone was audible the whole time Without further ado:

We started with introductions seating order is Yamanaka, Yurina (Es' VA), Minami (Amane's VA), Ryouta (Kazui's VA) and DECO (who dyed his hair blonde) They each have one of the 4th anniversary acrylic stands in front of them The actors have their characters but Yamanaka has Haruka and DECO has Muu

Yamanaka admitted to being a Haruka oshi/fan

Then Minami talks about being a Fuuta fan (she calls him cool) and she's handed the Fuuta stand and she pushes the Fuuta and Amane stand next to each other (and jokes about their height difference then imitates Fuuta going zenbu zenbu zenbu!)

But then Yurina sticks her Es stand in between them to separate them

And then they move the Amane stand next to the Kazui one and everyone coos

Before moving Amane and Fuuta back together in front of Minami Then they basically just lift all of the stands up on to the table and continue on

They discuss their thoughts on the trial

Looking at who got voted inno and guilty Minami is happy Amane got inno but has no idea how Mikoto wasn't guilty They note that the audience wasn't very happy with Kotoko for beating up the other prisoners Then they give some thoughts on the MVs from Daisuki to Deep cover They get most excited talking about Cat and Purge March Kazui says that he was able to put the right emotions into Cat because he recorded the voice drama first Yurina and Minami actually caused the microphone to peak with their excited shrieks at one point (ow)

They answer some audience submitted questions One question was answered along the lines of "Be prepared" One was submitted in English and they tried to but couldn't read it Then they got a question (in Japanese) from someone from 韓国/South Korea [side note: I feel like the south korean milgram fandom has gotten more prominent recently, its always been there but it feels bigger than ever and that's pretty cool]

After audience questions they made a few announcements Some things we already knew, the gratte cafe crossover, the Kotoko line stickers, Earbuds are still on sale (and they're making badges and stuff based on the earbud promo art) the 4th anniversary art/acrylici stands literally in front of them Then some new things: Minigram LINE stamps (everyone was especially pleased for the Kazui XP stamp) There's going to be a part 2 to the Karaoke collab (no details yet other than its coming)

They also announce this year's perk for annual members [the pain of being an annual member but living outside of Japan so you can't get these 😭] Blank lamenated cards of the prisoner's interrogations and a whiteboard pen so you can write your own interro questions and answers They bring out the cards for Kazui and Amane and do some examples

"Do you like cake?" "I don't eat it."

"What did you have for lunch today?" "Gyudon." [a beef and rice dish]

Then Minami just writes "Toilet paper" in katakana and everyone laughs (Then she writes Toilet paper rap/lap/wrap and I'm not sure what she means)

Most exciting is script books for the Hallucenation liveshow (scripts of the voice dramas and songs) The live show uses condensed versions of the voice dramas but this is the first time we'll have official transcripts of key moments to help check translations with

Then they start saying that T2 was hellish, but T3 is going to go beyond hell: They're going to send everyone to Super Hell And at this point my brain fries and overloads on eeby deeby memes as they all go back and forth talking about Super Hell

They all start doing their outros/saying goodbye

Yurina talks about upcoming challenges we have as guards meanwhile Yamanaka ominously holds the Haruka stand up in frame

Then that's basically it, not much going on because a lot of stuff (like Hallucenation, the plushes, earbuds) came out right before the 4th anniversary

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault (Interrogation)

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Anika rolled her eyes. “You’d think for someone who was attacked you wouldn’t wear headphones,” she said.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Your headphones rested on your head as you stared unblinking at your TV, your fingers moving automatically as you played your game. It was a little difficult and occasionally you winced at the pain in your hand from holding the controller but over the weeks you learned how to play your games without putting too much strain on your hand. It was incredibly difficult, and Tara had yelled at you the second you picked up the controller after being home for a day, but nothing was going to stand in the way of you and your games.

You had your sword out and just accidentally slashed a door instead of sliding it open, you sighed, you still always mixed up those two buttons. The next thing you knew your headphones were being ripped off your head, you instantly reached for the taser Sam had gifted you before turning to see who your assailant was.

“The fuck!” You screamed, lowering the taser slightly but your grip didn’t lessen. “Anika!”

Anika rolled her eyes. “You’d think for someone who was attacked you wouldn’t wear headphones,” she said.

“You’d think for someone who’s friend was just attacked you wouldn’t sneak up on them.” You finally sat the taser back down on the table next to you. “Or break into their house!”

“It’s not breaking in when I know the disarm code.”

“So, did Ghostface,” you mumbled, turning to go back to your game. You allowed your headphones to continue resting around your neck, but Anika didn’t deserve your full attention after almost giving you a heart attack.

You moved through the house, swinging your sword to slice through enemies when the TV went dark. The world froze, you couldn’t even hear yourself breathing. You slowly turned your head towards Anika, glaring at her as your grip on the controller tightened. Anika stood next to your gaming chair, arms crossed as she held the TV remote in one hand, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re lucky you only turned off the TV,” you said, through gritted teeth, letting out a strained chuckle. “I’d hate to be down a best friend because your actions made me lose progress.”

“Please, as if you’d ever stop being my friend.”

“Stop being your friend?” You furrowed your brow. “I was talking about murder.”

“Ugh, really? Threatening murder over The Last of Us, which you’ve played half a dozen times.”

“This was Ghost of Tsushima!”

“Same difference,” Anika waved the mistake off.

Your eyes widened in offense as you quickly shot to your feet. “One is about feudal Japan and Samurai while the other is post-apocalyptic and has infected. They’re completely different!”

Anika held up her hands. “Whatever.”

“What are you doing here?”

Anika shoved your shoulder. “Sit down.” You fell back into your gaming chair with a small groan, sudden movements were still not great for the ribs. Anika bent down, bracing herself on the armrests as she leaned into your space. You pressed yourself as far into the chair as you could, your face still being only inches from Anika’s. Anika leaned in even more. “Tell me about you and Tara.”

You couldn’t help but break out into a laugh. The laughter quickly died down though when you noticed Anika still staring at you with her serious expression. “You’re joking.”

“I told you; you aren’t getting out of this.” Anika pushed off the armrests and began pacing back and forth in front of you. “Now, I was reasonable. I didn’t bother you the last few weeks.”

“I was recovering,” you mumbled.

“I even let you have the meeting Sam dinner. I didn’t hound you once!” Anika went on, ignoring you. “And finally!” she spun around to face you, a crazed look in her eye. “Your time of secret keeping has come to an end.” She moved forward, leaning close to you again. “Don’t think about lying, Tara is with Mindy and Sam, she’s getting the same treatment.”

“Are you kidding?”

Anika shook her head. “I didn’t have to convince either of them. They were happy to ask Tara to hangout today, with the sole intention of interrogating her.”

“What happened to privacy? I mean this is our relationship, we’re allowed to keep it between us.”

“Privacy went out the window when you decided to lie to me. Your best friend! You lied to me. Me!” You rolled your eyes at her antics. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” You froze, looking up at Anika with wide eyes. “Look, you can either have this conversation with me or…” she smirked. Your eyes darted from her to anywhere around your room, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to know where she was going with this. “I can call your mom and tell her everything that happened.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said, narrowing your eyes at her as you leaned forward in the chair.

“Try me,” Anika bent down, bringing your noses inches from each other again.

In your peripheral vision you saw her whip out her phone. You glanced at her hand, seeing her shake the phone as her thumb hovered over your mom’s name. “Okay, fine!” you conceded, slumping back into your chair. “What do you want to know?”

“How did you two meet?” Anika asked, smiling at her victory.

“In class.”

“This would be easier if you just answered honestly.”

“We did!” You threw your hands in the air. “We have Film History together.”

“You know what I’m looking for. Now, answer correctly.”

You let out a huff, rolling your eyes at Anika’s ridiculousness, you were seriously questioning whether having a best friend was worth it. “It was the first day, we had to break into pairs and do ice breakers.” You smiled, remembering your first ever conversation with Tara. “We had to tell each other our favorite movies.” When you looked up you saw Anika smiling softly as you told the story. “We’d work together here and there and make casual conversation occasionally but for the first month or, so she was distant.” Anika gave a nod in understanding; you remember her telling you how Mindy was when they first started dating. “Then one day after class she cornered me and asked me out.”

“Aww,” Anika held a hand to her heart. “First date! First date!”

You laughed at your best friend’s excitement. “It was just a movie date. Tara wanted to see a new horror movie.”

Anika’s eyes went wide. “And you agreed.” You nodded; you still couldn’t believe you had agreed to it. “How did that go?”

“Uhh,” you dragged out for a long time. “I tried. I really did,” you assure Anika. You could see Anika holding back a smile, you really wanted to slap it off of her. “I ended up walking out and sitting on the floor. Tara found me and we went to a pizza place a couple blocks away. She paid and we talked all night.”

“How did you keep this from everyone?” Anika asked in disbelief. “I’ll admit, keeping it from me is easier but Mindy? Chad? Sam? How? I’m surprised Sam doesn’t have a tracker on Tara by this point. I’m pretty sure Sam would be tracking Tara’s phone, but I don’t think she knows how to do it…”

You laughed at the idea of that. You were definitely glad Sam wasn’t tracking Tara’s phone, you were sure you’d have been beaten to a pulp a long time ago if she had. Tara also probably would have found a tracking app or device on her phone, there was one time you two were out and Sam almost saw you guys and Tara thought Sam had been tracking her. Sam was just there to pick up dinner for the night and went on her way, but you spent the rest of the night watching Tara tear apart her phone searching for a tracking device, scrolling and opening every app to try and find something that didn’t belong.

“Well, we took advantage of the situation,” you explained, smiling as you remembered all the times you and Tara snuck around. “We had one class together, you and I only had one together, and Mindy and Tara didn’t really overlap somehow. So, whenever you guys were in class and our free time overlapped, we hung out.”

“So, while Mindy and I were slaving away in class you and Tara were making out,” Anika said, shaking her head in disappointment.

“I mean,” you shrugged. “Sometime. We also studied a lot. I helped her with anything audio related, and she helped me with film stuff.”

“I know the campus is big but how did none of us ever see you two?” She shook her head in disbelief, not being able to wrap her head around how four of you, save for Chad, all had similar majors and shared classes but none of them ever caught onto you and Tara.

You refused to meet Anika’s eyes, choosing to look anywhere else in your room. You slowly started to use your tiptoes to turn your chair, trying to get away from Anika’s gaze.

“Wait,” she shouted, gripping the armrest of your chair, and spinning you back around. “How many times did we almost catch you?”

“A lot,” you whispered, looking up at her through your lashes. Anika stood before you, mouth agape and wide eyed. You couldn’t help but laugh at her surprise. “Ow!” Anika smacked the side of your arm. “Why the injured arm?” You used your good hand to rub the spot she had slapped.

She rolled her eyes. “Your hand was crushed not your arm, you’re fine.”

“You’re mean,” you mumbled.

“Shut up,” she slapped you again. “Tell me more about how you’ve been lying to me for months.”

You gave her an unamused glare but didn’t argue, you didn’t see it as lying to her for months, you were just being private, there was nothing wrong with keeping your relationship just between you and Tara. “Well, we met at the library a lot,” you decided to keep humoring her, considering it might mean getting slapped less anyway. “There were a few times I’d be shoved under a desk or into another aisle when you and Mindy suddenly made an appearance.”

Her eyes went wide again. “Okay, ignoring that deception for a second, what about outside of school? I mean Tara was hardly ever alone.”

You sighed, remembering how difficult it was sneaking around with Tara, but it was always worth it in the end. The adrenaline rush at almost being caught a few times was also a lot of fun. “Whenever Sam worked late or had therapy we’d sneak out. Sometimes it was a quick date if we knew we had enough time, a lot of times Tara snuck over to my place late and got back before Sam would notice.”

“Did you ever sneak into the apartment?” Anika asked with a raised eyebrow. You bit  your lip, dropping your eyes to the floor. Anika’s eyes went wide, and a large smile enveloped her entire face. “You have! How did you never get caught?”

“Well, Quinn was always occupied.” Anika nodded, remembering how even when she was home Quinn was almost always in her room with a guy. “With Sam it was difficult. I would sneak up the fire escape as soon as she left the building and hangout until we knew Sam would be home.”

“How often did she almost walk in on you?”

You let out a shaky breath, remembering the one-time Sam truly almost caught you, you had never been so scared, well you hadn’t been until you got attacked by Ghostface. “A few times,” you said, shaking your head. “Tara has shoved me in the closet.” Anika let out a giggle, clearing her throat when you glared at her. “She shoved me off the bed. There was one time I slipped out the window right before Sam opened the door.”

“You are so lucky to be alive.” Anika shook her head in disbelief. “One more question.” You groaned, flinging your head back against your chair. “It’s important!”

“What?”

“Have you and Tara,” she gave you a knowing nod, her eyebrows raised. “You know,” she wiggled her eyebrows.”

“Oh god!” you smacked her in the stomach. She flinched but broke out into a laugh. “That’s none of your business.”

“You have!” She smiled widely, clapping her hands as she bounced up and down on her feet. “Tell me everything!”

“No! That’s between me and Tara,” you said, making sure she knew you weren’t kidding.

“Fine,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “Sorry if I overstepped.”

“Thank you.”

Anika opened her mouth to say something else, but her phone vibrated, she pulled it out, shooting a quick text to whoever was on the other end. “Mindy said they finished their interrogation with Tara.”

“Good,” you said, spinning your chair to face the TV again. “You can go compare notes.” You turned on the TV and reached for your controller again.

“One more thing,” Anika said softly, her tone changing from the joking one she’d had since she showed up.

You groaned but turned your head to look up at her. “What?”

“Call your mom.” You looked down at the controller in your lap. Your body stiffened when you felt Anika rest her hand on your shoulder, but it didn’t take long for you to quickly relax. “She loves you. She won’t be mad.” You nodded but couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. “I think it will be good for you.” She gave you a comforting rub before pulling her hand away. “Goodbye.”

You turned your head enough to see Anika in the doorway but not enough that you’d be actually looking at her again. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Anytime.” With that Anika left.

You looked at the controller in your lap a bit longer, lifting your head to stare at the screen. You had died when Anika turned off the TV, but the checkpoint was at the house you had entered so you’d just have to do that again. You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the button to resume. With a sigh you sat the controller on the table again as you got up and moved to sitting at your desk.

You pulled out your phone and started a facetime with your mom. It only took a few rings and even though you knew she was slammed with work she answered. “Hi mom,” you said with a small smile. It looked like she was at a hospital based on the background. Your mom was a travel nurse and even though she had originally been on vacation she got called to a hospital in another country the day she was supposed to be back. You hoped she was on break or something and hadn’t interrupted anything important.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes searching your face. You smiled at her concern. She hadn’t seen you in a few months but just one look at you through a screen and she knew something wasn’t right.

“I didn’t interrupt anything right?” you asked. Your mom’s job was important and telling her about what happened wasn’t a priority. “I can call back.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she waved you off, her eyes full of worry now. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you smiled again but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I am.” You nervously swallowed, preparing yourself to tell her everything that happened. “Now at least.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, even softer than before when you still hadn’t said anything.

“Just don’t be mad,” you whispered, tears already beginning to fill your eyes.

“I promise.”

You knew it was a stupid thing to ask. There was no way your mom would be mad at what happened, at least not mad at you. You weren’t sure why you were so afraid to tell her, you knew she would be worried, she wouldn’t care about the door, hell she wouldn’t have cared if you blew up the house, as long as you were alive, she’d be happy.

With a shaky breath you started telling her everything that happened. You watched as your moms’ eyes slowly filled with tears as well. She didn’t interrupt you, allowing you to tell her everything. She wouldn’t have had a chance to interrupt anyway, the second you started talking you couldn’t stop, you weren’t sure your rambling was even coherent at times.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped out when you finally finished, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m on my way,” your mom said instantly. “I’ll be on the next flight out.” You nodded. Through blurry eyes you could see her shuffling around and getting up from her seat. “I love you,” she said as she held the phone up to her face, she was standing, getting ready to leave the room she was in.

“I love you too,” I said.

Not long after you hung up with your mom you were still seated at your desk. The tears had stopped falling and you were staring blankly at the phone on your desk. You felt arms wrap around you from behind. Unlike with Anika you didn’t flinch, you just instantly relaxed against the chair, knowing Tara’s touch better than anyone else’s.

“I called my mom,” you said, leaning your head back so you could look up at her. “She’s on her way home.”

“Good,” she whispered. She spun your chair around, so you were facing each other. “Come on,” she reached down, tugging on your good hand. “Let’s cuddle.” She rested her hand on your cheek as she looked into your eyes. “You look exhausted.”

Your eyes drifted down. Even though some nights were better than others, especially when Tara was sleeping next to you, you hadn’t got a good night’s sleep since the attack. There were days you slept for five to eight hours, never consistently, you always woke up a few times but those were the times Tara was next to you. Any other night and it was less than five hours, you usually only got to sleep because you literally couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore.

“It’s easier to sleep during the day,” Tara whispered. Your eyes snapped back up to her, while her eyes darted around the room as if she was letting you in on a secret. “The nightmares aren’t as bad.”

You sighed, giving her a small nod. She gently dragged you to your bed, getting under the covers first with you following after. You instantly cuddled into her side, resting your head on her chest as she ran her fingers up and down your arm. It only took a few seconds for you to drift off to sleep, the last thing you remembered was Tara placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @fanboy7794 @noooodlessstuff @tatumrileyslover @alexkolax @canvascoloredin @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @youralphawolf72

[winnieiscalmeth]

Rogue SFW Alphabet

Notes: recently watched the new X-Men 97' and fell in love with the lovely women in the show so here goes an sfw Alphabet about our hot southern woman, Rogue<3 (spoilers for 97')

Proof Read?: Nope

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Would become very affectionate if you had powers that could cancel out hers. She can finally hold someone without them crumbling and falling due to her hands.

B = Breathe (Do they feel relaxed around you? How does their demeanor shift when around you?)

Very calm. She'll be all teasing to her teammates but whenever you come around.  sweeter than suga'

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Same with Affectionate, she'll never let you go. Prefers being little spoon, but if you wanted to be little spoon she'll switch for one night.

D = Domestic (Will they ever leave the team? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

She couldn't if she wanted to. As long as she's an X-Men she wouldn't want to leave. But she is good at cooking. As long as she's paying attention that is. Loves bringing you food she made.

E = Emotion (How do they hide their emotions? Are they good at it?)

Pretty horrible at hiding her emotions. If something upset her you can see the scowl on her face. On the contrary, you can see the excitement flowing through her whenever she gets to help you with something.

F = Fights (how well do they handle arguments?)

She would try to make it up shortly after you both calm down. Unless you were in the wrong then you'd have to apologize.

G = Grieve (if their partner were to die, how do they handle it?)

Well, we saw what she did in 97' after Gambit right? Right. It would be like watching her missing puzzle piece being ripped out of her hands.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What do they feel like?)

Loves them. Sometimes gets too excited and accidentally squeezes you too hard.

I = Interlink (How quickly do they realize that you are mad, sad, or uncomfortable? If you ever feel that way do they also feel it? )

Pretty quick to sense it. If you were visibly uncomfortable she would immediately ask about it and try to make you feel better. But the second you are mad at something she gets mad too.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What would they do when they get jealous?)

On a scale from 1-10, I'd say a solid 7.She trusts you enough but would still drag you away from the person flirting with you.

K = Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Where is their favorite spot to kiss you)

Hell yeah. She loves to wear lipstick and cover your face in markings. Her favorite spots are your lips and neck.

L = Love (who said "I love you" first? How much do they remind you that they love you?)

She did. She would always hint to you that she loved you before you got together, but since she was notorious for flirting you thought she was just joking.

M = Marriage (Do they want to get married?)

Desperately. Already has a few places she wants to get married at.

N = Night time (Are they a night owl? How long does it take them to sleep?)

Can't exactly sleep through a night, being an X-Men and all. But that doesn't mean she doesn't take breaks to be with her pretty s/o.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves?)

It would be subtle hints, then just flat-out telling you. It takes a while, maybe a few months into the relationship.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Quick. If someone were tapping a lot she'd ask them to stop in an obviously annoyed tone. Probably isn't allowed to be in an interrogation room.

Q = Quality time (what do they like to do with you?)

Loves to just hang out with you. Whether it's going out on a date with you or just watching a movie.

R = Reason (how did they get together?)

With her flirtatious behavior, you couldn't help but fall in love. You were also the first person she could touch without gloves on.

S = Security (Do you feel safe around them? Vice versa?)

Being with one of the strongest X-Men is pretty reassuring. You always try to protect her if she got hurt on the battlefield so she would say the same thing for you too.

T = Trust (How trusting are they with secrets? Do they trust you?)

Good at keeping them, unless you needed advice on a secret, then she'll ask someone for it but cover it up as a hypothetical question.

U= Understanding (how well do they know you?)

Good at urging you to tell her stuff. She knows a good portion about who you are and your backstory.

V= Value (how important are you to them?)

Very important. If you were in trouble, she would drop everything and come running for you.

W = Woo (are they good at flirting?)

Scarily good. It gave you mixed signals before you got together.

X = X-Men (Would they let you meet the other X-Men? Would they be accepting of you joining?)

She wouldn't mind having her s/o on the team. But would be more protective since now you could be a target for people who want mutants gone.

Y = Yearn (how do they cope when away from their partner?)

She would fidget with her gloves while thinking about you. She would always think 'just one more day till' I can see my sweetheart'

Z = Zzz (What is it like sleeping with them?)

She has to always feel you next to her. Her arm would be wrapped around you or her leg intertwined with yours. Or she just sleeps on top of you entirely. If you got up in the middle of the night to get a snack it would wake her up even if you could slowly levitate out of bed, she would sense your body warmth is gone and pop up behind you to give you a scare.

[call-mi-jinx]

Aaron Hotchner - Reckless

summary - you disobey hotch's orders, which results in a very heated argument between the two of you in his office.

warnings - hotch is not with haley, mentions of fire, mentions of guns, slight mentions of violence, confessing (u have to rlly squint to see it)

Main Masterlist Aaron Hotchner Masterlist

a/n - hiya girlies! i have only just realised how gorgeous hotch actually is, so i wanted to write this before i get writer's block becos i just know im gonna get it at some point. ta ta my lovelies! requests r open! xx

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

I never thought I had fit in with the BAU, albeit I had only been part of the team for 2 months, everyone just had that connection. And I didn't. I hated it, I always cracked jokes, tried to lighten the mood. Sometimes they laughed, but one person who never even smiled was Aaron Hotchner.

We were working a case down in Vidalia, Georgia. There was a serial killer who targeted blonde girls aged between 5 and 8. This guy was good. He never left the crime scene messy, always tidied up after himself without leaving a trace of evidence.

But around a day ago, he had slipped up. He left a picture of a house with a family of four in front of it. A mother, father, teenage boy and a little girl who looked around 6 or 7 years old. It had a date on the back of it - 14th June 1988.

This was big, the UnSub could be one of the men in this picture, we assume the teenage boy.

"They're the O'Driscolls. Tragic what happened to them." One of the local police say as they look over my shoulder at the picture.

"You knew of them?" I turned to the police officer and raised a brow. She nodded her head with a sad look on her face.

"Yeah, I was friends with the little girl, Frankie. Her older brother, Jack, always creeped me out. Always stayed to himself, barely came out of his room. And when he did, he'd bully Frankie." She shivered as she recalled the memory of them.

"Then the fire happened. All of them except Jack died, he got put in the foster system and no one has seen him since. Except around a week ago. He looked pretty angry." I furrowed my brows at the woman.

"And you didn't think to inform us?" Aaron then made his way over to us and took the picture from my hands.

"Can you tell us where he lives? Or where we could possibly find him?" The woman nodded then told Hotch that he had a shack he used to go to as a kid about 3 miles West from where we were.#

We immediately headed to the shack, put bullet-proof vests on and split up to go through different entrances to check the shack. I booted the door in before Hotch signaled for us to and pointed my gun at Jack as soon as I saw him.

"FBI! Get down on the ground and put your hands on you head!" Jack did as he was told, and I cuffed him after. I turned to see Hotch giving me the dirtiest glare I had ever seen. I was going to get rinsed when we get back to Quantico.

We took him in for questioning, we only had 72 hours to prove that he was guilty. We tried and tried but he wouldn't break. Until we had 30 minutes of the 72 hours left. I then went into the interrogation room where he was and showed him the picture. His body language immediately changed.

"You know what I think Jack?" I raised my brows at him, using a condescending tone.

"What?" Jack replied in a monotone voice, he leaned back in his chair and sighed in annoyance.

"I think you were jealous of your little sister. As soon as she was born, you hated her because all the attention shifted from you to her. Mummy and Daddy didn't care about you anymore. And because you were so angry about this, you started the fire that killed your family. You ended up in the foster system, and eventually ended back where you started." Jack suddenly became angry. His nostrils flared, jaw clenched, fists tightly clenched, eyes squinting and glaring right at me.

"Shut. Up." His breathing became jagged. His brows furrowed and raised and he purses his lips.

"And when all your memories started to come back you got angry from the memory of your parents and little sister. So you used all these little girls as a substitute for your sister. And you have the buried underneath the shack we found you in!" Jack slammed his hands down on the table and stood up. He leaned slightly closer to me.

"They're not buried under the shack! They're under my mom and dad's house!" He spat at me quicker than he could stop himself. I smirked at him and crossed my arms.

"Thank you." I looked to the mirror in the interrogation room to which I know Hotch was behind the whole time.

I walked out of the interrogation room and burst into the room. They were all astonished, we hadn't gotten anything out of him in nearly the whole 3 days we held him.

"Good job." Aaron said monotonously. He was still pissed. We then processed him and everyone got on the jet back home.

The ride home was silent, everyone could tell Hotch was pissed. This wasn’t good. Not only did I already not fit in, Hotch was pissed with me now.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

I was sat in Hotch’s office. He told me to wait there while he sorted some things out. I was nervous. I started biting the skin off my lips, twirling my hair and tapping my foot on the floor.

My body stiffened and breath caught in my throat when I heard the door open then close shut. Was he going to shout? Suspend me? Fire me? All these questions running through my head, but he hadn't said a word when he sat down in his chair.

All he did was glare. Eyebrows knit together, mouth straight, nostrils relaxed. He wasn't pleased with me at all. I'm surely fucked now.

"How stupid are you?" My jaw went slack. I've never heard him speak like this to anyone in the team before after they disobeyed orders.

"How stupid do you have to be to go guns blazing into a house with a potential serial killer inside and just hope for him to not attack you straight away? Why do you have to be so reckless?" Tears began to brim my eyes, I haven't been shouted at like this since high school.

"Well?!" He stood up and placed his hands on the desk. His glare pointing straight at me. I didn't know what to say. My mouth kept opening and closing, every time I thought of what to say but dismissed it as it wouldn't diffuse the situation.

"I'm sorry, sir. It was a spur of the moment. It will not happen again." I looked down at my palms, picking the skin at my fingernails. I began to tap my foot on the floor faster, get more and more anxious. I only did it to prove myself to the team. I didn't mean to cause any harm.

"What if he had shot you? Stabbed you? Set a trap? You would've been seriously hurt and I don't know what I'd do if-" He stopped himself dead in his tracks. He straightened his posture and his mouth was in a very tight straight line. I looked up to him, confusion painted on my face.

"What?" The tears began to stop, I realised he actually cares about me. I never suspected he actually did.

"I care for every member of my team. It wouldn't be good if you had gotten hurt. You need to be more careful. You may leave now." I hesitated for a second, wanting to ask him what he meant exactly. But instead I nodded my head, got up and walked out of the office.

Aaron Hotchner, the guy who never smiles, cares about me?

[willcmsv]

Soft Launch - Alain Laubrac x Fem Reader (ENG)

The story that follows is in English for my English Voltaire High's fans, French version is posted there!

Requested by @babydeersblog

Synopsis: You and Alain got to know each other at the beginning of the year, and were involved in a number of group projects, which helped your relationship to evolve over time. However, after being mocked when you confessed your feelings to a boy, you decided to keep them to yourself and no longer show any signs of love. But Alain unfortunately makes you feel something you'd like to find out more about.

Warnings: small changes compared to the series.

Notes: don't hesitate to recommend oneshot ideas - I write in English and French!

Since the beginning of the year, you and Alain have been exchanging words during your class hours. You have the habit of drawing him little drawings while he writes you quotes or jokes, depending on his mood. Since his fight with Joseph a few months ago, you have become Alain's sort of guardian angel, you prevent him from going off the rails and you defend him when you have the opportunity in front of Joseph and his friends.

However, for the past few weeks, Joseph can't help but tease you by pointing out how close you are and assuming that you love each other as if it were a game. But Joseph was like that. Everything was funny to him and everything was not serious.

When you come home on weekends, you have the right to participate to the private interrogation of your brother Jean-Pierre, as if Joseph's bogus questions weren't enough. For Jean-Pierre, you were and will always remain his little sister who he must cherish and protect. He stopped watching you grow up when you were nine.

“Who is Alain?” Jean-Pierre asked the second you set foot inside your house.

"A friend. Next question?" You answered.

Jean-Pierre frowned. For him, there's no way you're dating a boy. Simone had reminded him several times that you were seventeen and old enough to have a boyfriend, but he was stubborn and didn't want to know anything about the subject.

“Apparently no, that’s not what Joseph claims to say.”

"Joseph! Do you really believe him?! He's an idiot and he likes to start rumors about everything that moves. I thought you were more intelligent…" You affirmed, grabbing a glass which you carefully filled with water.

After your exchange with your brother, you headed to your room and discovered a letter left on your bed. It is signed A.L.

You immediately recognized the sender's writing and his sentences, which were always so original and captivating. You couldn't help but smile at each of his letters, at each of his words, of his actions. But although this should make you happy, on the contrary, it made you anxious.

Every night before going to sleep, you thought about what you really wanted. You had two choices presented to you: confess your feelings to him and risk being humiliated like before, or keep them a secret and perhaps lose the love of your life.

The love of your life, maybe that’s a big word.

On Monday morning, after leaving your home, you arrived at school a little early. You especially hoped to see Alain.

“Morning.” A male voice called out to you.

Without even turning around, you could recognize this voice among a hundred, even if it wasn't pleasant for you.

“Joseph, what else do you want from me?”

"What do I want from you? What do you want me instead.”

You raised your eyebrow, unconsciously glaring at Joseph.

"Even though the school doesn't know me by that name yet, I'm excited to introduce myself, Joseph the Cupid." He stooped down, miming a curtsy.

“Joseph the what?!” You giggled at this unpredictable news. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Do I look like it?”

My smile immediately faded from my face when I realized that indeed, he was completely serious. But Joseph, serious or not, is not someone you can trust.

“Go find another customer.” You responded, turning on your heel.

“Don’t you want to know what your dear Alain thinks of you?” A smirk formed on the blonde's lips.

“Not necessarily, and certainly not thanks to your help.” You declare.

"It's a shame, I know a lot about him and things that might interest you-" Joseph stopped in his sentence when Alain arrived.

“Are you okay Y/n? Joseph…” Alain gave Joseph a confused look. “We can already get ready for class, what do you think?”

You nodded and the two of them walked off into the hallways. Alain leaned against the wall.

“If Joseph bothers you, tell me.”

“It’s Joseph, he’s like that.” You declare.

Alain lowered his gaze, as if he was upset, and upset by what had just happened.

During the first class of the day, you couldn't help but glance at Alain who seemed so focused on the class. You were as focused on him as he was on his lesson that you didn't realize that his gaze was now turned towards you.

His blue eyes were locked on you. He didn’t even move when your gaze met his. Your cheeks suddenly took on a tint of pink while a smirk appeared on Alain's face.

At the end of class, you cross paths with Joseph again who begs you to accompany you home since you live near each other.

Alain, who was walking a few meters further, was able to see your silhouette and that of Joseph walking side by side. He couldn't help but feel jealous. Why did Joseph always have to be with you when he only dreamed of being in his place.

***

The next day, you and Alain had a science assignment to complete, an assignment that required you to work with him for an indefinite period of time. You were already looking forward to being with him, but strangely, you felt pressure, as if this was going to go badly.

You quickly walk towards the science room, seeing Alain who was already sitting on a chair at the back of the room.

"Am I late ?" You asked.

“We would rather say that I am early.” Alain smiles at you before pulling out a chair for you.

The work progressed more quickly than expected, both of them were focused, but took a few poses to discuss things more entertaining and fun than science classes.

“You and Joseph, is there…” Alain began.

You widened your eyes before answering.

“No, no! He’s just a friend, I’m not interested in him.” You hastened to answer.

Alain glanced at his notebook without saying a word, as if your answer didn't suit him.

His fingers held tightly to his pencil with which he was scribbling in the corner of his notebook.

Your eyes roamed his entire face, from his brown curls to the fine curves of his jaw.

“Are you okay?” You finally asked.

Alain’s eyes fixed on you once again. They moved down to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Although he didn't speak, his gaze revealed so much more.

Your heartbeat accelerated and your lips itched with the desire to kiss him.

His face slowly moved closer to yours, your heart almost skipped a beat.

"Working hard?" A male voice blurted out.

You and Alain turn around with a start before seeing Joseph in the doorway. He smiled playfully at you like he did that on purpose. And you were sure that was the case.

"I need to go, Y/n. We'll meet up again tomorrow." Alain packed his things and gave you a brief smile before leaving, lightly brushing against Joseph.

"You find it funny?!" You declare.

“I thought you weren’t interested?” A smirk appeared on Joseph's lips.

***

In the afternoon, you went to the infirmary to take some medicine to treat your uncontrollable stomach ache. Before you could put on your vest again, the door opened to reveal Alain.

"Hey..."

"I- I didn't think I'd see anyone here at this hour." He affirmed.

His nose was bleeding slightly and you could notice blood on his knuckles.

“Did you fight?” You asked directly.

He didn't answer, his lips pursed and he looked away. Sometimes silence is louder than words.

You wet a cotton ball before gently grabbing his hand to disinfect it.

“It wasn’t me…I didn’t start it.” He whispered.

“It’s too simple to say that every time, Alain.”

He breathed in and out a silent 'yes' and gritted his teeth as you pressed against his wound.

The closeness between the two of you allowed you to hear his heartbeat and feel his gaze on you as you carefully disinfected his wound.

Placing the cotton on the table next to you, you felt Alain's still hand lightly brush against your thigh as you moved.

You bit your lip to hide your concern. Each of his movements, his looks or his words always gave you a feeling that was impossible to describe.

It had become more and more complicated for you to accept your feelings without always imagining the worst. However, you wanted things to work with Alain. You always felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw him smiling at you in the yard, or when he hid letters in your bag. Not to mention the times you could cross his path, like in the infirmary for example.

Everything led you to him and you felt something different, something captivating.

***

The next day, after classes ended, Alain invited you for a walk around town. At first, you walked in silence. Your interactions with him were never this awkward, and the mood was almost heavy right now.

“Sorry about yesterday…”

Alain turned his head, almost surprised that you apologized.

"It's not your fault." He answered briefly.

You bit your lip, you didn't know how to make the mood more joyful or even less morbid.

“Joseph is-” You start before being interrupted by Alain.

“It's still Joseph, Y/n. Except that Joseph takes great pleasure in bothering you, I notice that very well. You need to ignore him, because he's not going to stop so quickly. So make him stop, or I'll take care of it myself."

When he finished speaking, you couldn’t help but slip a short ‘no’ out of your mouth. You didn't want them to lash out like always.

You grab his arm to push him slightly towards you. Either you waited and perhaps risked the situation degenerating or ending differently than expected, or you took your courage in both hands.

Alain looked at you again with a look filled with desire. You didn’t know what exactly that look meant, but as much as you didn’t want to start imagining things, it wasn’t friendly in any way.

“I would like to have you to myself for once… to be able to act without someone cutting me off every time…” Alain affirmed.

You arrive in a small alley. You walked slower and slower, your bodies getting closer together as you went, until your hands brushed against each other several times.

Your two gazes met when you felt the other's hand. Alain walked in front of you and suddenly stopped, which led to you stopping too.

"Y/n, I wish you were more confident, you're pretty and smart. Don't hide or let anyone walk all over you."

Your eyebrows raised when you heard his words. Your cheeks immediately turned red despite the fact that you tried to hide them.

Alain slowly leaned towards you, his hand reaching out towards your arm. He didn't dare put it elsewhere and was mainly waiting for a response from you before doing so. His eyes lowered to your lips again. However, this time he didn't look away. Despite the hesitation, he finally placed his lips on yours and you immediately kissed back. His soft lips pressed against yours and moved in lockstep with yours.

A few seconds later, you both pulled your faces back and looked into each other's eyes before Alain gave you a soft smile.

“I wouldn’t have thought of doing that here… but it’s even better.” He smiled and finally placed a hand on your waist.

You were overcome by emotions and reached his lips again to kiss him. He pressed firmly on your waist at the same time as his lips pressed into yours.

His warm breath blew against your skin, and you felt it slowly speed up.

You felt his lips forming a smile against yours, and you couldn't help but smile back.

Once again, you felt a fluttering sensation in your stomach. His hand tenderly caressing your waist and the movements of your lips against each other only made you feel worse.

However, what you couldn't have known was that on Alain's side, tons of emotions and sensations were also invading his body and making his heart palpitate in rhythm with the beating of yours.

1758 words.

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

THREE FIVE

FOUR

You're trying to avoid looking directly at Steve while he enjoys an éclair and sips your mediocre coffee. In reality, you're pretending to be busy in the back of the bakery, hoping he'll leave without asking you anything else. Despite him being easy on the eyes, you're afraid he might be too persuasive, and you might accidentally give away Barnes, which would break his trust in you.

"You always knew your hands could make treats like these that seem to be made by angels?" Steve asks as he stands up from the small table where he was sitting. You smile slightly, finding his compliment to your baking skills sweet, though you're still on edge.

"In reality, my mother is a chef, so I was always inclined to work with cooking. Ironically, my mother isn't very fond of baking. But I fell in love with it, making some desserts and breads. To answer your question, I always knew I had to be good at something culinary, even if just as a hobby," you speak gently as you collect the plate and utensils that Steve used. When he hands them to you, your hands briefly touch. You notice that his hands are incredibly soft for a guy, and the sensation sends a slight shiver down your spine.

“Are you interested in going out today?” Steve asks, still close to you. At first, you think he might be joking, but he really seems to want to go out with you. However, something tells you that it's more out of suspicion than genuine interest.

“I don’t know your friend, and a date isn’t going to change that. I sincerely hope you find this Bucky of yours, but it won’t be with me.” You say, stepping away and likely sounding too blunt. What a hassle—having to turn away a handsome stranger to protect another handsome stranger.

“It’s clear when you’re lying. I saw your reaction to Barnes’s photo, which might be nothing, but it seems like something. So, go out with me and prove me wrong, or cowardly hide the fact that you know James Barnes. The choice is yours.” Rogers’s blue, maybe greenish eyes seem to pierce through you. He’d make a great priest, as something in his words eats away at your guilt. You’re lying to him, and it doesn’t feel fair. But he could be deceiving you, and you can’t take that risk.

"I close the bakery normally at six in the evening, if the business is slow. There's a restaurant right across the street; we can have pizza and maybe a glass of wine. You can interrogate me as much as you want. After that, this matter will be closed. Does that sound good?" You say, looking him straight in the eye, and then extend your hand towards him, waiting for him to seal the deal. He takes your hand firmly while looking at you with determination.

Steve then leans in close to you, almost as if he’s about to kiss you. It would be crazy, right? But then he whispers, "I’ll be at the restaurant at seven o'clock waiting for you. I believe you don’t want me to come to your place and find out what you're hiding from me. And by the way, tell Barnes it’s a shame he’s making such a beautiful woman turn into a big liar." Steve says, leaving you speechless before exiting your bakery.

The thought of finding Barnes's best friend and lying to him, while also accepting a date that seems both tempting and terrifying, distracts you for the rest of the day. So, an hour earlier than usual, you close your bakery and rush home, knowing you need to inform Barnes, Bucky, or whatever other name he goes by, that his best friend is searching for him. As soon as you enter your apartment, you rush to your bedroom, frantically searching for something to wear for your date with Steve. Your mind is in chaos, and no dress seems right for a man whose main interest in seeing you is to figure out if you're lying. On top of that, you're confused about why you're even in this situation—lying and acting like a criminal when you've done nothing wrong. All of this because a customer at your bakery is handsome enough to make you lose your sense of right and wrong. Suddenly, a wave of desperation washes over you. Amidst the clothes scattered on the floor, you reach into the pocket of your pants and pull out your phone. You dial the emergency number, feeling a wave of nausea, both metaphorical and literal. Are you really about to report Mr. Barnes? Well, you’re just telling the truth, right? It will probably lead to his arrest, maybe even worse... but that’s not your problem, is it?

"You can tell them I'm standing in your living room when they ask if you know where I am," a voice says from behind, startling you. James is standing there with his arms crossed, looking less than pleased. You quickly hang up the phone before the emergency line even picks up. Honestly, you feel like a rebellious child caught red-handed doing something wrong.

"How did you get in here?" you ask as you try to recover from the shock. Your hands tremble as your nerves take over. You're not sure if you're safe with Barnes or if he's the kind to seek revenge for an almost-betrayal.

"I came to check on you, see if everything was alright. I noticed you got here early, and I got worried… but it seems that was for nothing. You didn’t need to rush to your apartment just to turn me in. And don’t bother denying it." Barnes says, still standing there, his voice low and tense, sending chills down your spine. It’s clear you’ve struck a nerve—maybe his pride, maybe something deeper. You stare at him, searching for the right words to explain yourself.

"I won’t lie, I was going to turn you in. I’m not like you. The weight of knowing something that others don’t, it’s eating me alive. First, two agents showed up at the bakery looking for you, and now your best friend, who doesn’t seem like he's just here to catch up. I had a moment of weakness…" You trail off, not explicitly naming what you were about to do, though it’s painfully clear. You were ready to hand Barnes over to the authorities. He lets out a frustrated sigh, followed by a bitter smile. His eyes lock onto yours, and you feel exposed, almost tainted, under his gaze.

Barnes steps closer, extending his phone toward you since yours is still on the floor, discarded in your rush to hang up. You look at him, puzzled, unsure of what he wants you to do. "Clear your conscience, make the call. I promise I won’t resist," he sighs, waiting for you to take the phone from his hand. An unsettling feeling creeps over you, a weight of guilt, as if you’re betraying him in the worst way. His calm demeanor makes it even worse, and the thought of going through with it makes you feel like you're stabbing him in the back.

"Are you really going to let me turn you in just like that?" you ask softly, feeling a bit ashamed, knowing that no matter his answer, there’s something strangely intimate about him letting you be the one to hand him over. Maybe you’re losing your mind. Barnes looks at you for a long moment, his eyes softening just a little.

"If that’s what you need to do," he says quietly, "then go ahead. I won’t stop you." You can't help but feel a knot in your chest. The idea of having this power over him, of being the one who decides his fate, makes everything feel even more complicated.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted like that. It wasn’t fair to try to turn you in; it was just too much pressure, I’m not used to this." You look at Barnes, regretful of what you might have done. His hand with the phone is in front of you, so you place both your hands under his and shake your head as if to say he can trust you, at least for a moment. He looks at you, then places the phone on the coffee table. He turns to you, placing his hand gently on your face and caressing your cheek. It’s so comforting that you close your eyes, feeling like you can finally breathe peacefully for the first time.

"You don’t have to carry this burden, not for me," he says softly. You’re still lost in the gentle touch of Barnes’ hand. You then open your eyes to find Barnes looking at you as if you were his most precious treasure. All the anger he seemed to be feeling earlier seems to have vanished.

"I'll go on the date with your best friend and try to throw him off. I hope you'll accept this as an apology," you say, looking into Barnes' blue eyes. He’s still standing right in front of you. "I don’t want you to expose yourself like this, Y/N. I can handle Steve my way. This life full of dangers and lies is mine; I never should have involved you in it," Barnes replies, pulling his hand away from you. His gaze is distant, and it saddens you in some way.

"Let me do this for you, then," you say almost weakly as you feel Barnes pulling away. "And then I'll leave you in peace." You can’t bear to look at Barnes anymore; instead, you gaze down at your feet.

“Look into my eyes, Y/N. And tell me, when you look at me, do you see a man who isn't at peace when he's with you?” There’s a melancholy in Barnes's voice, and you gather the courage to meet his gaze. He’s closer than you realized.

"I see a man who has a lot to hide. You must carry a burden much greater than mine. So let me help you; maybe I can be of use to you." You step closer to Barnes, and as he looks at you once more, you feel as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe or move. You’re sure you must be blushing, given how hot your body feels.

"Wear a dress that shows your legs; it’ll distract Rogers enough to make him forget why he’s interrogating you. Also, lie about trivial details. Tell him your favorite color is green, that you have two older brothers—something like that. He’ll analyze your facial expressions to see when you’re telling the truth or lying. It’ll confuse him. Try not to deny that you know me; just say you remember seeing me as one of your customers. He might be convinced." Barnes advises you, but doesn’t come any closer. He appears hesitant, as if struggling with conflicting thoughts. You nod in agreement without speaking. The silence in your apartment becomes painfully oppressive. You want to walk over to Barnes, to kiss him and perhaps make love on the cold floor of your apartment. But he doesn’t seem to feel the same way, as he turns and walks away, leaving you with a heavy heart.

[cyberhughes]

— 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ jack hughes

chapter 4: happy birthday naomi!

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*:･✧* 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jack hughes x fem!oc

*:･✧* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: swearing, WE ARE ON THE PRECIPICE OF ANGST… brief mention of weight gain,

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: bit of a longer chapter!!

series masterlist + character intros

“trevor, for the last time. there will not be a keg at my birthday.” naomi pinched her nose in frustration at trevor not understanding her. “my family is going to be there for fucks sake.” the group was currently chilling at a mcdonalds after luke was pestering the groupchat the he was craving. “bummer.” trevor pouted before snatching one of cole’s fries. “dude what the fuck?”

“okay also, just so we’re on the same page and you guys don’t fuck anything up,” naomi paused, giving a stern look and pointing her finger at everyone. “i asked jack to pretend to be my boyfriend for the night because i don’t think i can spend another year being nagged about how i’m not wifed up yet.” every time that naomi’s family had gotten together it has, without fail, ended as an interrogation about her personal life. why she wasn’t dating anyone when her 16 year old cousins had been for years? why she wasn’t pursuing a career suitable to their standards, but who has time for med school?

yasmin gave the girl a weird look. “you and jack are gonna…pretend to be dating?” the two nodded. luke snorted, “as if you guys don’t do that already.” naomi rolled her eyes kicking him under the table, “you guys can’t spill it, i think i would have to kill myself.” her face fell in her hands, already dreading the night. there was no way that trevor or cole wouldn’t make some kind of joke or end up outing them. “i’m regretting this already.” she groaned. “are you kidding? i’m going to be the best fake boyfriend ever!” jack laughed. “fake boyfriend my ass.” quinn whispered to luke.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

DING DONG

naomi made her way towards the door since her mom had been doing her preparations around the house. she wondered who it could be, since her mom had told everyone to arrive for 7:00 and it was only 5:30. swinging the door open, her eyes widened as she saw jack. he looked good. better than good, he had managed to tame his hair and have it free of a backwards cap, and he was wearing a pair of khaki pants paired with a white button down shirt. her face tinted with a shade of pink.

“why are you here so early?” she hadn’t even finished getting ready, hair in rollers and pyjamas still on. “wow not even a hello?” he stepped inside. “i was bored, thought i’d just come early.” he shrugged.

“naomi? who’s that?” her mom peeked around the corner, smile growing when she saw the boy at the door. “oh jack!” she came rushing and naomi sighed. “oh jack so good to see you,” she pulled him into a hug and he laughed. “good to see you too.” she took a step back, keeping her hands on his shoulders. “you know, i am so happy that the two of you are finally together. naomi, your father and i actually had a bet as to—“ naomi interrupted, taking jacks hands into her own and leading him away. “okay enough mom we’re going upstairs.” her mom just chuckled. “god i love those kids.”

as naomi led jack upstairs to her bedroom to continue getting ready, she hadn’t let go of his hand. entering her room there was dresses laid out on her bed, makeup scattered over her vanity, random things on the floor, and while most would find it messy, jack found it kind of endearing. she didn’t feel the need to hide or clean up for him, she could just be her natural self.

“she’s going to be devastated when we break up.” she let go of his hand, stepping to her vanity to finish her makeup. jack pursed his lips, forgetting that this was all fake in the first place. “yeah she will.” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. she looked back at him giving a weird look, “so like are you gonna sit down or just stand there?”

after about 45 minutes naomi had finished getting ready and had locked her self in her bathroom, putting on her dress. “yasmin just texted, everyones on their way.” jack spoke as he laid on her bed as if it was his own. “okay!” she flattened her dress with her hands with her hands a few times, starting to feel a little nervous. her parents had always threw her the most extravagant parties, equivalent to those of emily and richard gilmore. and while she loved them to death and appreciated everything they did, it did feel a bit suffocating. her family was very high strung and she felt she couldn’t be herself around most. she gave herself one last look before stepping out of her washroom, into her bedroom.

“does this look okay?” she asked looking down adjusting the straps. jack looked up from his position, eyes widening. “holy shit.” she blushed at his reaction. “you look so good, do a little spin.” he got up off the bed. “i am not doing a little spin.” she laughed, walking to retrieve a necklace from her jewlery box. picking it up, she stretched her hands outwards to jack, signalling for him to help her put it on. “i’m serious naomi, you look beautiful.” he moved her hair to the side before putting the necklace on. goosebumps on her neck as she felt his cold fingers lightly graze her. she smiled, turning around to face him. “thank you boyfriend.” if only she could call him that for real.

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guests started piling in the house, the space soon becoming more and more crowded. cocktails and snacks in hands as everyone mingled.

“mom, how do we even know these people?” naomi whispered, eyeing some new faces. “your father and i’s work friends and their kids. now go on, go talk to some people!” her mom gently pushed on her back, gesturing for her to talk to her guests. naomi looked over to jack who was talking with their friends and gave him a signalling look with only her eyes. he walked over without hesitation. “what’s up?” he placed a hand on the small of her back. “my mom wants me to mingle…i guess that means it’s showtime?” she smiled sheepishly. “come on then m’lady.” they walked towards one of her aunts.

“naomi! happy birthday, you look gorgeous, just like your mother!” the woman pulled her in for a hug, naomi feeling crushed by the tight embrace, her aunts perfume overwhelming her nose. her aunt pulled away, turning her focus to the boy beside her, “and who might this young man be?” naomi snaked an arm around his back and placed one on his chest, “this is my boyfriend, jack.” his heartbeat increased at the words and naomi could feel it under her hand. “boyfriend?” her aunts grin grew and grew. “it’s very nice to meet you,” he extended a hand for a hand shake, but her aunt pulled him in for one of her bone crushing hugs, slightly pushing off naomi. “well i’ll be damned! this is great news! you are a very handsome boy!” naomi laughed as she watched jacks face scrunch at the smell of the perfume.

naomi and her aunt had chatted for a bit while jack had his arm wrapped loosely around her waist, fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. “well, i’ll leave you two to it! i’m going to find more of those hors d'oeuvres your mother has. god, that woman never fails to have the best food.” jack turned to face naomi, hand never leaving her waist, looking for words to say but the two just burst into laughter. “oh my god, we have to do this so many times tonight.” she rested her head onto his chest, giggling. “you know—“ she was cut off by a shrill voice, heart dropping to her ass.

“naomi dear!” they turned their attention to a tall woman adorned in the most expensive jewlery money could buy. elanore hearst, one of her fathers coworkers, a dreadful woman. “elanore, hi!” jack stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying hide his laughter as he watched naomi put on a fake smile, looking somewhat pained as she approached the woman. “oh wow, gained a few i see” naomi frowned after pulling away from the hug. “i’m teasing, i’m teasing.” who is this lady? mother gothel? “naomi dear, let me introduce you to my nephew!” naomi’s eyes widened, “oh elanore that’s—“ “james! come over here!” she motioned a boy who had been talking with naomi’s father and he walked over. “this is james.” she places her hands on his shoulders, grinning. it was as if she was displaying him like a trophy. “he just graduated, going into business like your father! and he’s about your age too!” jack watched from a few steps back, feeling slightly annoyed for naomi. the lady hadn’t even wished her a happy birthday and is already trying to push her into this guy.

“happy birthday, naomi.” james smiled softly, a rosy tint on his cheeks. he was kind of cute naomi thought. he had brown silky hair, and deep brown eyes, somewhat resembling those of a puppy. “thank you.” she returned the smile before her aunt jumped right back in with her high voice. “so, dear i was thinking maybe james could accompany you for a bit,” james face grew redder and redder, feeling embarrassed by his aunt. not letting the woman finish her sentence, jack stepped forward, a small smile on his face. “i’m sorry to interrupt, naomi your mom is looking for you.” naomi felt a wash of relief over her body, making a mental note to thank jack later. “oh,” elanore looked back and forth between naomi and jack, eyes glancing down to their hands slowly intertwining. “who…who is this?” her face tinged with annoyance as naomi leaned her head onto his shoulder. “this is jack. my boyfriend.” she let go of his hand, only to wrap onto his arm. “oh, oh i see.” elanore nodded slowly before shaking her head and smiling again. “well, don’t let your mother wait! hopefully you and james can talk sometime later.” naomi’s eyes flickered towards james and he mouthed a “i’m so sorry.” and she had to suppress a giggle.

as naomi led jack away, he didn’t fail to notice the way james watched her as she walked away. not quite a sad expression on his face, but somewhat disappointed. oh well, james would have to wait.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

it was later into the night, and naomi was growing tired. needing a breath of air, she slipped through the patio door into the backyard. goosebumps covered her body as she embraced the cold. she had spent the last two hours having the same conversation with different people, receiving the same shocked reaction when they found out she had a boyfriend. well, fake boyfriend. it hurt her feelings a bit, the amount of shock that was received, as if they couldn’t believe she actually had a boyfriend after their years of nagging her.

“you okay?” startled, she whipped her head around the the voice. “sorry,” james stood there, rubbing a hand on his nape and smiling sheepishly. “i just saw you slip out and wanted to see if you were okay.” she nodded. “yeah, just needed some air.” she looked back down to her shoes. “i’m sorry about my aunt,” he stepped further outside towards her. “for the way she was practically prostituting me with your boyfriend right there.” naomi laughed at his comment. “well, he’s not actually my boyfriend.” she spoke without thinking, eyes widening at her own words. she had just given trevor and cole hell to keep their mouths shut about the situation yet here she was. “he uh… he’s just my best friend. i didn’t want to have another year where everyone shamed me for not being in a relationship yet.” she expected him to laugh in her face, but he just nodded. “yeah…i get that. with my aunt especially.” they locked eyes and naomi had felt her heartbeat pick up. she felt seen. the two had continued talking for a while, about random things mostly. experiences from their years in highschool, foods they liked and didn’t like, and embarrassing stories. the patio door slid open, naomi’s mom peeking her head out, she smiled gently, “cake time!” naomi nodded, heading in assuming james would follow behind but he had grabbed her hand. “uhm, seeing as jack isn’t really your boyfriend,” he began, cheeks turning pink. “would it be okay if i grabbed your number?” naomi pondered for a second before saying yes. a twinge of guilt in her stomach, but she didn’t know why she felt guilty. although, anyone else with a brain could tell her why.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

the night came to an end, guests filing out the door bidding goodbyes and ‘happy birthday’s.

jack was the last to leave, the pair stood at the front door chatting while naomis mom ushered her father into the kitchen to give the two some privacy. “so, on a scale of one to ten, how good of a boyfriend am i?” he smiled proudly and naomi smirked. “a solid 6.” she laughed as she watched the smile fall of his face. “i’m teasing. thank you for doing this.” she spoke sincerely.

“i have something for you,” he reached into his pocket taking out a tiny white box with an even smaller pink bow on top. “jack, you didn’t have to get me anything.” she took the box from his hands. he shrugged, “i wanted to.” he bit his lip in anticipation. “go ahead, open it.” she removed the lid of the box and her eyes softened at the gift. it was a heart shaped pandora charm with an infinity symbol in the center of it. she had been eyeing for a while, never failing to stop to look at it at the mall and saving countless pictures of it on her phone. yasmin always bugged her about why she didn’t just buy it, but she was glad that she never did. “jack…” her eyes became teary, not because of the gift itself but because jack knew her like the back of her hand. “i know it’s not super expensive but i’ve just seen you—“ she didnt let him finish his sentence and pulled him in for a hug. “it’s perfect.” she rested her cheek on his chest and he blushed, arms wrapping around her. he never wanted this to end. “anything for you.”

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

liked by jackhughes and 9382 others…

naomihill got a lil older

— view comments

↳ yasminramirez: i’m gonna cry my baby i love you happiest birthday again🩷🩷

↳ naomihill: love you forever❣️

↳ trevorzegras: leave it to mrs hill to throw the most fire parties (happy birthday pookie)

↳ naomihill: she never ceases to amaze me (thank you pookie)

↳ quinnhughes: the cartier i’m SICKKK

↳ naomihill: as if you didn’t buy that bigass lake house

↳ lhughes_06: nahhh this a different type of rich

↳ colecaufield: cake was delicious, happy birthday bbg

↳ naomihill: thanks bbg😭😭

↳ jackhughes: prettiest bday girl

↳ naomihill: 🫶♾️

↳ jameshearst: happy birthday naomi :)

↳ naomihill: thank youuu

↳ user7228: who tf is this guy

A/N: THIS IS THE CHARM BTW!!! super cute i want it for myself lol

[d00si]

a new neighbour

✦ rafe x reader

— no warnings ¡

content ⦂ fluff, soft

you had just moved into a new city …

you just moved on to this new city. all your friends have left now that you’re well settled and you were thinking about introducing yourself to your neighbours. you took a quick shower and went out of your new home. "hi !" you were happily saying to everyone who opened the door, just before telling them your name and who you were. they all seemed really kind. as the day was slowly ending, the sky turning orange and pink, you knocked at the last door of your neighbourhood. a tall and broad blond man opened the door. "hello ?" He said, looking confused. "hi. i’m y/n. i just moved here and…" you stopped suddenly as you noticed that his piercing blue gaze was like staring at your soul. he gave you an interrogating look. "yeah hmm… i just moved here. and i just wanted to introduce myself to my new neighbours. that’s all !". the suspicious look on his face became softer and he smiled. "oh alright ! nice to meet you then, i’m rafe." he held out his hand, inviting you to shake it, which you did. "then hmm… have a good evening, bye !". you quickly walked away, your cheeks slightly flushed for no real reason.

⩩

the next day, knocks on your door woke you up from your nap. you yawned, wondering who was knocking and went down the stairs to open the door.

"hello…" your eyes opened wider "hi, rafe…". he offered you a warm smile "hi y/n. i can’t stay long but i just wanted to let you know that i’m a gardener, so if you need any help with your garden, feel free to ask. it’s a weird offer but yeah, just tell me." you smiled softly, a bit confused by the offer though. "thank you i’ll think about it then. really nice of you by the …". he didn’t really let you finish and walked away, smiling politely and joining his car that he had parked on the street in front of your house. "…way." you finished after he left.

⩩ two months later

"i made some cookies ! these are your favourites, with chocolate and raspberry chunks." rafe laughed softly and followed you into your house, sitting on the couch next to you. "so… are you taken where you applied ?" you nodded happily. yes, you now had a job you were going to enjoy. you had applied to multiple job interviews and finally got in a bakery. "waking up at at four to bake pastries every morning won’t be easy at the beginning but… i’m really glad. come on, take one rafe !" you handed him a cookie, waiting for him to taste it. he rolled his eyes playfully and took the cookie to taste it. as he chewed on it, he nodded slowly. "this, y/n, is really, really good."

⩩ five months later

before ringing the doorbell, you took a really deep breath. "relax y/n. it’s going to be so okay" your hands tightened a bit around the box, and you finally rang. "c’ming !!" you heard from inside of the house, ten seconds before Rafe finally opened the door. ten seconds during which you could’ve fled ten times. "hi sweet. have you brought a cake ? which kind this time ?" you laughed softly and shaked your head. "no… it’s not something we couldn’t buy today… actually i baked it for you." his eyebrows raise a little in astonishment. "for me ?" "please open the box, rafe" you asked him, nervously biting your lower lip. he did as you told him, carefully opening the box to see the cake. but when he did, his eyes opened widely as he read reading the two words wrote on the cake with red icing. kiss me "is that a joke or something y/n ?" "it’s not a joke, rafe..." you answered, laughing nervously, your cheeks now a soft shade of pink. "so i can kiss you ?" but without waiting for your answer, he took the cake of your hands and put it on the floor, before gently cupping your face and pressing tenderly his lips against yours. when he pulled away, he asked, his face inches from yours "can i do it again ?" and instead of answering, you placed another sweet kiss on his lips.

— first time i really post here, i hope you guys enjoyed it, feel free to give me feedbacks ! also, i am not a native english speaker so i may make some mistakes, sorry ! take care <3

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌⺌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[the-oblivious-writer]

The Science of Loss

Dexter Morgan and Reader

Part Two: Dexter’s Perspective

Summary: Even in death you hold a great impact in Dexter Morgan's life.

Warning(s): Swearing, (major) character death, clinical descriptions of death/crime scenes, mentions of violence, grief/loss, secondary trauma (Deb), and murder/references to

Notes: Although this is a part two, it can be read separately from Deb's perspective. This is a platonic Dexter and Reader fic, let me know if I should do more

Debra's Perspective

You were one of the few people who never made Dexter feel like he needed to perform humanity. Your interactions in the lab had a comfortable precision – you'd both speak the language of blood patterns, trajectory analysis, victim positioning. He didn't have to manufacture the appropriate emotional responses because you never demanded them. You understood silence.

Now he stands in the lab where you used to work, and the silence feels different. Heavy. He touches the microscope you'd use to analyze trace evidence, remembers how you'd explain your findings without the theatrical flourish Masuka employed. Just clean, methodical observations. You'd been easier to understand than most humans.

"The blood pool indicates they were conscious for approximately two minutes after the shot," he tells Deb, because these are the facts he knows how to process. His sister stares at him with red-rimmed eyes, and he recognizes that this information isn't helpful. You would have known how to translate between his analytical approach and Deb's raw emotion. You'd done it countless times before.

The security footage plays on his laptop. He's analyzed it like any other crime scene: entrance angle, shooter position, blood spatter direction. But something uncomfortable shifts in his chest when he watches you step in front of the teenage clerk. A protective instinct that doesn't align with efficient survival. It's the kind of human behavior he's always struggled to understand, but somehow made sense when you did it.

"You know what's fucked up?" Deb's voice cracks. "They would have fucking loved analyzing their own crime scene. All that blood spatter data."

Dexter nods, because you would have. You shared his fascination with the technical aspects of death, though yours came from a place of justice rather than necessity. You'd once spent three hours explaining to him how different blood pattern classifications could reveal a victim's final moments. Not because it was relevant to a case, but because you recognized his genuine interest.

He finds himself in the morgue at night, standing where your body had been. The metal table reflects the fluorescent lights, and he remembers how you used to joke that the morgue had better lighting than your apartment. Dark humor that made others uncomfortable but made perfect sense to him.

"I don't know how to help her," he tells the empty table. Deb is spinning out, breaking down, and his usual scripts for performing brotherly comfort feel inadequate. You would have known what to say. You always knew how to reach her when she retreated behind her walls.

The irony doesn't escape him – seeking advice from a memory of someone who helped him understand human connection. But you had been different. You didn't try to fix his peculiarities or demand conventional emotional responses. Instead, you'd simply included him in your understanding of human variation. "Different wavelengths," you'd called it, "but still on the spectrum."

He keeps your last case file. Not for sentimental reasons – he doesn't do sentimental – but because your analysis was always impeccable. Sometimes he reads your notes, appreciating the logical progression of your thoughts. The way you could look at violence and find patterns, meaning, justice.

The young shooter is caught three weeks after your death. Dexter sits in the observation room during the interrogation, studying the teenager's body language, the tremor in his hands. His Dark Passenger whispers familiar suggestions, but he remembers your voice during late-night lab discussions:

"Justice isn't always about punishment, Dexter. Sometimes it's about understanding why."

You'd said that after a particularly brutal case, your gloved hands steady as you processed evidence. He hadn't understood then – his own sense of justice had always been more… direct. But watching the terrified kid break down during questioning, he thinks maybe he's beginning to grasp what you meant.

Deb finds him organizing blood slides one night. Not his special collection – just routine case evidence. But he's doing it the way you taught him, with that extra level of precision you always insisted on.

"You miss them too, don't you?" she asks, her voice rough. "In your own way."

He considers this. Misses your predictable presence in the lab? Yes. Misses how you helped him navigate complicated social situations? Also yes. But there's something else – an unfamiliar discomfort when he passes your empty workstation. A hesitation before using your favorite microscope.

"Yes," he says simply, because you appreciated when he didn't elaborate unnecessarily.

Harrison asks about you sometimes. You'd been good with him, patient in a way that matched Dexter's own careful approach to fatherhood. You'd explained complex forensic concepts to Harrison in ways that satisfied his curiosity without disturbing his innocence. A balance Dexter often struggled to find.

"Where did Y/N go?" Harrison asks one evening.

Dexter remembers your discussions about death, how you'd emphasized the importance of being honest with children while respecting their developmental stage. He tries to channel your measured approach.

"They died," he says carefully. "Someone made a very bad choice with a gun, and Y/N tried to protect another person."

"Like a hero?"

Dexter thinks about your final moments on the security footage. The calculated risk, the protective instinct, the technical perfection of the blood spatter you left behind. "Yes," he says. "Like a hero."

He helps Deb pack up your apartment because that's what siblings do, according to the social scripts he's learned. Your forensics journals are organized by date and subject matter. Your case files are meticulously labeled. Even in death, you maintain the order that made you comprehensible to him.

"Fuck," Deb chokes out, finding one of your hair ties. She crumples, and Dexter moves to support her weight, remembering how you'd coached him through similar situations.

"Let her feel it," you'd advised during one of Deb's previous crises. "You don't have to fix it. Just be there."

So he is. He holds his sister while she breaks apart, and though he can't fully understand her grief, he recognizes its patterns. The way it spreads like blood spatter – predictable trajectories, measurable impact points, analyzable distribution.

Later, he finds your notes on his own blood spatter analysis. Margins filled with observations, questions, suggestions for improvement. You'd approached his work with the same detailed attention he gave to his… extracurricular activities. Not questioning, just analyzing. Seeking to understand.

"Your brother processes things differently," he overhears you telling Deb once. "It's not wrong, just different. Like how blood spatter can tell different stories depending on the angle you view it from."

The metaphor had been oddly perfect, much like your presence in his carefully constructed world. You didn't disrupt his patterns or expose his secrets. You simply observed, analyzed, and accepted the evidence before you.

He keeps your forensics kit in his lab. Not out of sentiment – Dexter Morgan doesn't do sentiment – but because your organizational system was superior to the department standard. At least, that's what he tells himself when he finds his hands lingering on the latches, remembering how you'd walk him through your processing methods.

"Evidence tells stories," you'd say, "but only if we listen carefully."

He's listening now, in his own way. To the stories told by your absence. The way Deb's grief spreads like high-velocity spatter. The void you left in the lab's carefully calibrated ecosystem. The subtle changes in his own patterns since you've been gone.

It's not grief as others experience it. He knows this, just as he knows he processes everything differently. But it's something. A disruption in his carefully maintained routine. A gap in his understanding of human interaction. A missing data point in his ongoing study of normal behavior.

You would have appreciated the analytical approach to processing your loss. Would have helped him categorize these unfamiliar reactions with the same precision you brought to blood spatter analysis. Would have understood that his version of missing you would manifest in reorganized evidence boxes and late nights reviewing your case files.

The science of loss, he discovers, is messier than other sciences. Less predictable than blood spatter. Harder to categorize than DNA evidence. But he continues to study it, methodically documenting its effects on Deb, on the department, on his own carefully structured world.

Because that's what you would have done. You would have looked at the evidence, analyzed the patterns, and accepted the conclusions – even the uncomfortable ones. Even the ones that suggest that maybe, in his own unique way, Dexter Morgan is capable of missing someone who made his world more comprehensible.

The security footage plays one last time. He watches you make the statistically illogical choice to step in front of danger. Watches the blood pattern bloom across your chest – medium-velocity spatter, consistent with a single gunshot wound. Watches you break protocol to protect another person.

And something in his carefully ordered mind shifts, just slightly. A new pattern emerging from familiar data. A different way of understanding sacrifice, justice, connection.

You would have appreciated the symmetry of that – teaching him something new, even after you're gone.

-----------

[venomwrites]

Something about the dictator cape because her striding around in it like that is so fucking hot?

Vi’s world comes back in blues. 

Powder’s cyan splatters across buildings. It stains people’s hair and hands and billows into the sky through vents. It’s bright and loud and so hard to look at sometime. When Vi sees it all she hears is a scream. Like if Powder can just scream loud enough it will bring back their dad, Isha and Milo and all the others. Somewhere in that scream is Silco’s black-gold eye winks back. Nowhere in it is Caitlyn’s mom. 

Ekko’s turquoise cuts in the gaps. The tree is wilting and he’s nowhere to be found, but the Firelights flash out of her eyes sometimes. Still fighting, still holding onto what he was taught. It’s the closest echo of home Vi can find. When Powder vanishes again that’s where she shows up. They let her in with only a few questions asked. Vi pretends they don’t sting. Then she falls fast first into the softest cot she’s ever felt and sleeps for two days straight. 

Caitlyn wraps herself in midnight blue and blankets Vi’s world with it. Every time she goes outside she sees it hovering. Above the splatters and the dyed hair and all the chaos. For a moment Vi thought it was the blue of purpose, of belonging. But now things are right again. And it’s just the same blue that’s made her ache since she was a kid. Nothing good comes from that midnight shade. It’s just a bigger set of bars on a bigger cell that Vi calls home. 

Before when Caitlyn was pissed, Vi could content herself with ghosts. 

Now she won’t leave her the fuck alone. 

Every time she surfaces there’s someone there. An Enforcer who looks too long. A gutter rat whose dressed too well. She knows she’s been watched. They are running out of ways in and out. None of them come near the entrances and exits, but the speed with which they turn away is making people uncomfortable. 

“They cannot know about this place,” Chireen says.

“She’s already been here,” Vi points out. He gives her a hard look, “alright, alright. I’ll go talk to them.” 

She finds the nearest pretend gutter rat who immediately does the worst impression of a drunkard Vi has ever seen. Of course she’s something of an expert on the subject, but he’s particularly awful. Without any pretense she hauls him up and holds him against the wall. He is immediately in a defensive position.

“I need to see her,” she says. He nods and pulls out a pair of cuffs, “that’s a fucking joke right?”

“Protocol, I could—“

“Forget it,” she doesn’t have time for this Enforcer bullshit. She shoves her wrists out, “take me in.” 

There’s no color in Stillwater. 

Vi should have figured this would be how things play out. Naturally if there was a way to make Vi’s life suck more, Caitlyn was going to find it and make a protocol about it. Vi doesn’t even know why she’s surprised. At least this time she winds up in one of the interrogation cells that has a little sunlight and some stale but fresher than below air. There’s even a proper toilet and a chair and a cot. She expects to be there for a few hours since Caitlyn is so incredibly busy these days. But Vi’s barely made herself comfortable on the cot when commotion starts. 

She’s hopeful for a moment that it’s a riot. 

But it’s just Caitlyn. 

“You wanted to see me?” Caitlyn says and if Vi was wondering if she was still mad, she’s not anymore. 

When she first met Caitlyn in her blue uniform, Vi tagged her for a low level Enforcer. Sure the gun she was carrying spoke of wealth, but it wasn’t Enforcer wealth. That was family money. And even then given her willingness to break the law and run around the Undercity, Vi figured it couldn’t be that much. Not until she went to her house anyway. 

They’ve come a far cry from that. 

Caitlyn wears her wealth and influence now like she wears the cloak. She’s tall in a way that has nothing to do with her actual height. Her mouth is in a tight disapproving line and her blue eyes glare down at Vi. But it’s the cape that really sells it. It folds around her form like a barrier cutting her off from the rest of the world. She’s sure as shit the only Enforcer Vi sees wearing a cape. Even her hair is down which only serves to further make her look different. 

“You look like a statue I’d spit on,” Vi remarks. 

“What do you want?” Caitlyn repeats, her voice tighter this time. 

Yeah she’s really pissed. 

“Stop following me.” 

“I’m sorry I can’t do that,” Caitlyn says, “you’re a prime target.”

“I can take care of myself,” Vi retorts. Caitlyn just stares her down, “I’m going to lose my home.”

“Then you can come back to Piltover.”

“I’d rather stay here,” Vi shoots back. 

“As you wish,” Caitlyn says and turns on her heel. 

She’s dead serious, Vi realizes. Of course she is, Caitlyn always gets what she wants. And she gets pissed off when she doesn’t. Vi is learning that really quickly. 

“Wait!” She grinds out. Caitlyn stops, “how long are you going to punish me?” Vi demands, “I told you I was trying to save my dad.”

“With your sister!” Caitlyn spits, turning so fast the cape billows, “you forgot to mention that part.”

“Sorry I didn’t have time to go over every little detail with your goons about to invade!” 

“That is not a little detail!” Caitlyn counters. Vi knows she’s right. Caitlyn balls her fist, takes a breath and looks at her, “now you’re a target. The Noxians know how to navigate the Undercity. You cannot be left unguarded.” 

“So you just want me guarded but you don’t want to see me?” Vi demands.

“Exactly.” 

“Who the fuck put you in charge?” Vi demands. Caitlyn stiffens, “oh wait--“

“I suggest you do not finish that sentence,” Caitlyn says. 

“I suggest you stop putting guards around me. I’d rather take my chances with Ambessa. At least she looked me in the eye when she tried to gut me.” 

Caitlyn is suddenly too close and there’s a blue that Vi forgot.

She can never pin down the blue of Caitlyn’s eyes. It shifts from midnight to teal to cyan. Sometimes Vi thinks they are blue-grey, shades darker than her own. But they are always impossible to look away from. Sometimes its annoying. Right now it’s downright infuriating. But Vi’s already damned so she’s definitely not backing down from this one. Caitlyn stares at her long and hard, her eyes bearing down. Then she presses her lips tightly again and straightens up. 

“Guards or Piltover, your choice.”

“Neither!”

“Guards it is,” she says. 

“You and that stupid cape can’t ignore me forever!” Vi shouts after her.

But Caitlyn’s the General wrapped in the night sky, and as much as it pains her to admit it, Vi knows she probably can. 

&&&&

The guards start turning up drunk. 

They always stagger back, bottle in hand and eyes clouded with merriment. They sleep it off and wake with apologies and explanations. Neither interest Caitlyn. She knows this is Vi sending a message, even if they say sometimes it was a red head and sometimes her hair was black. Sometimes it’s blue. Those times infuriate Caitlyn the most. She’s knows Vi has been locked up for longer than she’s been free. She knows this is excessively reckless but also understandable. 

She also doesn’t care. 

At best Vi is going to get herself killed. Caitlyn doesn’t want to think about what the worst case scenario looks like. It’s so easy to picture Vi in that green tank. Caitlyn grinds her teeth. She will not let that happen. She’s a Kiramman for Gods sakes. Vi seems to be the only one who keeps her from getting her way. She’s not going to let Ambessa also have that distinction. 

“General? They’re back.”

“They?”

This time Vi and her guard come in arm in arm. Because this time Caitlyn sent Loris. Vi’s taken care to send her guards back very drunk but also safe. But she never goes inside. Loris though keeps his arm around her shoulders like they are old friends. Caitlyn straightens up as they come fully into the garrison. Vi glances around but Loris keeps a fist of her jacket as he steers them in. 

“Well look who it is, General sneers a lot and her stupid cape,” Vi slurs.

“Bring her—“

Loris heaves Vi forward and Caitlyn has no choice but to catch her. It’s almost automatic to sling one of Vi’s arms over her shoulder. Vi grips her ‘stupid’ cape and looks up at her, blowing a piece of red hair up in a way that would be almost difficult to ignore. If her breath didn’t smell like something that makes Caitlyn’s eyes water. She’s very, very drunk. 

“I gotta go back.”

“That is not an option tonight,” Caitlyn says. 

“You kidnapping me? Again?” Vi frowns, “lawbreaker.” 

Caitlyn ignores her and steers them up the steps and through the private entrance she rarely uses. Caitlyn’s a fool in many ways, but she’s not enough of a fool to trust all the Enforcers. There are definitely moles. Which is one of the reasons she implemented the protocols. If Vi comes up here she’s supposed to be in cuffs. The guards that watch her are ones Caitlyn actually trusts. And despite all of that Vi manages to saunter in without a second thought. 

“This is nice, this yours?” Vi says looking around the office. Some schematic draws her eye and she sets off, “what’s—“

“Would you sit down?” Caitlyn snaps, batting her hand away before she can pull the string pinned there. 

“Who are you tracking?” She asks and glances up at Jinx’s headshot. She snorts, “still?”

“Yes—“ there’s a sound of ripping, “Vi!” 

Vi fixes her with that hard grey stare and rips again. There are moments when longing for her overtakes Caitlyn’s senses. And then there are these moments when she never wants to lay eyes on her again. She has half a mind to throw Vi out and make her stagger back to the Undercity. But from the way Vi is looking at her, that’s what she wants. And Caitlyn would rather hang herself with her cape than give her that as she shreds months of work. 

“I’ll see myself out.”

“You will not!” Caitlyn storms over, “sit down.”

“Or what? You’ll make me?”

“Easily.” 

Caitlyn’s never been much of a brawler but Ambessa’s changed that. Vi gives her a hard, silent look. Then she drops the pages into the fire and walks over to the couch. Caitlyn watches the pages burn. The search for Jinx has been half hearted at best these past few months. There are other things to be concerned with. Ambessa, Jayce, the golden light Mel seems to conjure whenever she’s angry. Even though every flash of blue hair makes her want to redirect people, at the moment Jinx isn’t the priority for anyone else. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“Wouldn’t tell you if I did,” Vi says, her tone cutting deeper than Caitlyn wishes it did.

“After everything, you’re just going to walk away?” Caitlyn turns, “how?” 

It still hurts that Vi can just walk away. 

Caitlyn’s been here before. Torn between never letting Vi out of her sight and never setting eyes on her again. She’s not proud of how desperately she listened to the wind those first few nights. Just waiting for Vi to climb up her balcony and tell her off. Tell her she misunderstood something. Make it all make sense in that terrible, infuriating, brilliant way of hers. But Vi never came. One day Ambessa locked the window, posted a guard and that was the end of it. 

“You look like her,” Vi says. 

Caitlyn feels like she’s been slapped. 

“Sometimes she’s still that kid, too smart for her own good,” she throws an arm over her eyes, “still standing in that room with those things in her hand—.”

The comparison stings, the way only a truthful one can. Again. How many ways has she played it over in her head. All she had to do was pull the trigger. She had the shot. So many shots, the weight of that magazine was impossible. She could have emptied every one into Jinx’s chest. Jinx was evil back then, she deserved it back then. If she had taken the shot her mother would be alive. Piltover, the Undercity, they would all be different. Instead she hesitates and Jinx knocks her out and the next thing she knows her mother is dying a city away. 

“And yet you walk away,” she says.

“Leaders don’t get to be selfish,” she says.

Vi is drunkenly sprawled out on her couch, she doesn’t look like she’s leading much of anything. Caitlyn doubts those are her words. 

“You don’t know the first thing about leadership,” she says.

“No, but my dad did,” Vi says. 

Of course it would be her father’s words. The father Caitlyn led Ambessa right to. No-one knew they were down there, they had been manipulated into a trap. Or she had. Caitlyn doesn’t want to think too hard on it. If she does, she starts to consider that maybe Jinx didn’t know her mother was a Counselor. Didn’t know who she was aiming that rocket towards. And that makes it very hard to swallow anything, even her own spit. Behind her she hears Vi stretch out on the leather, perhaps she’s too drunk to reason this either. 

She pulls out a throw blanket she keeps for nights in the office and drags it over Vi. One of Vi’s hands catches her fingers. 

“Leave,” she says. Caitlyn frowns, “wherever you are, leave,” she drops he hand, “I hate it when you look like her.” 

&&&&

When Vi opens her eyes she realizes it wasn’t a dream. 

She’s in Caitlyn’s fancy office. She very clearly tore down some map she worked hard on. And she’s under a very fancy blanket that might be the warmest, softest thing she’s ever felt. Her mouth feels like sandpaper though and her head is definitely trying to crack open with every pulse of her heart. She shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes. Loris is the best and the worst drinking buddy a girl could ask for. 

“You’re awake,” Caitlyn says, stepping fully into the room carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and a plate of sandwiches.

“Yeah,” Vi says, pushing herself up.

Caitlyn presses her lips together and sets the tray down. She’s wearing her usual Enforcer gear, her hair is tucked into its usual bun. She’s still imposing but she doesn’t look comical anymore. It makes it easier and harder to sit next to her and take the mug she hands her. 

“It’s tea,” Caitlyn says, “I haven’t poisoned it.”

“I didn’t think you had,” Vi says quickly, “did I—“ she motions to the wall. Caitlyn glares, “sorry.”

“Was that your intention in coming here?” She asks. 

“Huh? No!” Vi is surprised that it kind of hurts to have Caitlyn look at her with such mistrust, “I wasn’t ‘intending’ to come here at all.” 

“Right,” Caitlyn says shortly pushes herself up, “you need to stop getting your guards drunk.”

“You need to stop sending them,” Vi retorts. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Caitlyn tells her, busying herself with some of the endless papers strewn about, “not until we defeat the threat.”

“Powder isn’t a threat,” she says automatically. Caitlyns’ eyes narrow. 

“I was talking about Ambessa,” she says, “Jinx isn’t a threat to you, she is a threat to Piltover.”

The name makes Vi think of that stupid party with those stupid chairs. When she told her she could have Powder back. When she chose to be Jinx after Caitlyn didn’t shoot her. She hates the thoughts of that room. But she refuses to linger in them. 

“She goes by Powder now.”

“Maybe to you!” Caitlyn says and the indignant anger is back, “to the rest of us she’s Jinx.”

“And what are you to them?” Vi demands before she can stop herself. Caitlyn stiffens and sucks in a breath. But if Vi’s going to stick her foot in her mouth, she’s going to get it all the way up there, “the people you swore to protect are afraid of you.”

“I know that!” Caitlyn argues, wrapping her arms around herself, “I hate it—“

“So change it!” 

“I don’t know how!”

Vi glares at her and walks over to the wardrobe, yanking it open and ripping down that stupid fucking cloak. Caitlyn watches her as she strides over to her and shoves the cloak in her face. 

“Start by burning this stupid thing and try being a fucking human being again!” she spits.

Caitlyn looks outraged but Vi doesn’t care. There’s so much shit going on but Caitlyn’s still hunting Powder. Still enacting martial law. Still traipsing around cloaked in Ambessa’s authority and her mother’s money. 

“I am,” Caitlyn says and Vi can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Why am I wasting my breath? Of course you are,” she says, “General.” 

Caitlyn stares furiously at her in silence for a moment. 

“You don’t know me,” Caitlyn says. 

“And whose fault is that?” Vi throws up her hands,” you know what? Do what you want, I’m out.” 

She leaves before Caitlyn can say anything.

&&&&

 Martial law lifts the next day.

It’s three days before Vi wakes from her bender to find Loris back.

She lets him stay.

&&&&

She’s thumbing through her notecards for the morning speech, trying to find the right words.

“You’re sounding almost human again, Cupcake.”

Her fingertips tighten on the cards but she doesn’t dare turn around. It’s been a month since she saw her last. Vi eases herself into the room and approaches. Caitlyn finally lets herself appraise her. She’s wary but she’s here. The anger has a cautious edge. Her hair is long enough now to touch her shoulders on the side she grows out. The other side has been freshly shaved. She smells less like a bottle and more like a person. 

“That almost sounds like a compliment.”

Vi shrugs and walks over to the wall. Caitlyn feels the start of her own panic and shoves it aside. She doesn’t want Vi to see, she wants her stay. But she’ll see eventually and Caitlyn knows she’ll be more upset about the betrayal than the new map trying to track her sister. She lets out a deep breath. Caitlyn looks down at her notes. If they start to fight she’ll never have time to properly prepare. 

“What are you going to do with her?” 

The genuineness of the question makes Caitlyn pause. She would love to see Jinx dead. She deserves to see it properly. Finally. She’s seen Jinx almost dead. Seen her sprawled out completely still. And every time she does she sees Vi curled over her. She feels Vi shove her away to grab Jinx. The part of her that screams for blood is not one that cares about justice. That part of her screams in a child’s voice that she is a Kiramman. What she wants is the only thing that matters. She wishes it wasn’t so loud. She wishes she didn’t give in every time she sees the order to shoot her on sight.  

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says, “why?”

Vi leans forward and presses her forehead to the wall. 

“She’s getting bad again.” 

Caitlyn tries not to think about the room, the rocket, her mother. She forces herself to be grounded in the present. Vi still has her forehead against the wall. One of her hands curls into a fist. There are so many scars on her hands. She presses her knuckles into the wall. Caitlyn expects her to put her fist through it. Something sets in Vi’s shoulders and she turns around. Caitlyn’s aware of a paper fluttering to the ground but she just focuses on Vi’s clear eyes. 

“I want the same protections on her,” she says, “taken alive, that nice cell, only I get to see her.”

“You’e giving her up?” Caitlyn can barely hear her. 

“I don’t know where she is,” Vi says, “she keeps appearing and doing stupid shit. She won’t let me near her,” her fists ball by her sides, “she keeps trying to get shot. Your guys, suck by the way, but she’s not thinking.”

Caitlyn swallows against the tightness in her throat. Vi is asking her to protect Jinx. It’s a barbed compromise, one she never expected to be offered. Self loathing radiates off Vi. She’s desperate. Like she was back in that cell when she saw the drawing. Just like that she struggles for a mask of indifference. But it’s a poor one now. Caitlyn can see right through it. She commands Caitlyn’s attention and stares her down. 

“If you do it I’ll stay here with you.” 

The nausea steals her breath away. Something lights in Vi’s eyes and she steps forward. She’s offering what Caitlyn wants and all Caitlyn can think is if she vomits on her desk there’s going to be so much paperwork to redo. She clings to that thought as Vi takes another step forward. 

“I’ll say here and I’ll be an Enforcer again.”

“Stop!” Caitlyn tastes bile. Vi’s eyes widen and Caitlyn knows she’s thinking this is about Jinx. Maybe it is, maybe some part of it is. But all Caitlyn can think is that Vi would do anything she asked in that moment. And Vi believes it would work, “Just—“ Caitlyn scrambles for the order, for her seal. She can barely see as she scrawls out what Vi wants and seals it, “get out,” she says. 

“Huh?” Vi’s features twist.

“This is the order for her protection. Give it to the commander and just—“ her stomach rolls, “just get out.”

Vi’s lip curls but she takes the order. Caitlyn counts her breath until she hears the door close. Then she flies over to the bathroom and looses whatever she’s eaten that day. 

&&&&

Turns out, not everything’s blue. 

That’s all Vi thinks as she holds back Caitlyn’s hair while she vomits. She was fine five minutes ago and then she went pale and now she’s tossing her cookies. Vi keeps her hair back as she finishes, her shoulders shaking. She stiffens when she seems to realize she’s not alone. 

“Get it all out, Cupcake,” Vi says, trying for levity. 

“You thought I would take you for her,” Caitlyn says, finally looking up at her, “after everything—“

“Hey—“

“Do you really think so little of me?” 

Caitlyn appraises her as sharply as anyone can in that position and Vi doesn’t know what to say. Caitlyn interprets her silence as the complete answer, not the conflict. She moves away, straightening up and tugging her jacket back to perfection. Vi gets up but it’s not like it makes a ton of difference. Caitlyn rinses her mouth and pulls back her hair. She meets Vi’s eyes in the mirror, looking more collected than anyone whose been vomiting has a right to. 

“I don’t want you here,” she lies, her eyes narrowing at Vi’s scoff, “you don’t trust me to honor the order.”

“It’s not that simple,” Vi argues, unable to look away from Caitlyn’s gaze as her eyes harden, “Cait we gassed the Undercity. You were shipping people in trains off to Stillwater—“ she can see Caitlyn throwing up every wall until her eyes are flat, “yeah,” the truth tastes barbed, “you’re right, I don’t trust you to honor this.”

Caitlyn breaks their eye contact and leaves the bathroom without a word. So much blue covers her world, all of it is unyielding. Jinx think’s she’s fine and won’t let Vi within ten feet of her. Won’t let her touch her for anything. Caitlyn will watch her from someone else’s eyes and agree to shit she doesn’t want to, but she won’t let Vi be around. Vi knows the world kept spinning when she went away but she doesn’t get how she’s supposed to be around all these people who want her safe but don’t want her around. 

She forces herself out as Caitlyn sets down her pen and picks up her seal. She holds out the paper, though Vi is pretty sure she knows what it is. 

“Thanks,” she says, the words leaden in her mouth.

“I’ve kept my orders regarding you,” Caitlyn points out. 

Vi’s used to being short but she feels about ten inches tall. 

“Yeah,” she says finally. Caitlyn keeps staring her down. Like she’s waiting for something. Vi hopes it’s not an apology, she isn’t getting one, “still want me to—“

“Yes. Go.” 

&&&&

Caitlyn wears the cloak during her next speech. 

Vi is sober when she helps Loris back to the hideout.

&&&&

There is a lot of paperwork that comes with stripping someone of being an Enforcer. 

Caitlyn never got around to it. 

She couldn’t bring herself to put pen to paper and make things real. Then things got busy. It never seemed like it was ever going to be a problem, not considering how things occurred. At some point Maddie had filled out the forms and left them ‘just needs you seal’. She still didn’t. She just put them in the bottom of the pile and resolved to file them when she got around to it. 

It’s only when she comes back to Vi sitting in her office, rolling her badge across her knuckles, that she remembers where the papers even are. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says. 

“You know when I flashed this at the door, they just let me in,” Vi muses, “I was just going to take the win but then I scanned it,” her fingers close around the badge, “I’m still an Enforcer.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, there’s no point in lying about that, “I forgot to file the paperwork.”

Vi gives a purposeful look around her pristinely organized office. Caitlyn ignores it and walks over to the wardrobe, undoing the fastening and hanging up the cloak. Vi scoffs in the background. Caitlyn’s fingers tighten in the blue fabric. At the time she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Now she forgets why. It’s certainly not too late. 

“I will file it—“

“Remember when you said this doesn’t work if we don’t trust each other?” Vi says abruptly.

Back in the Undercity. Back with Vi bleeding out and throwing herself off of everything. Back when something made sense, even if Caitlyn was learning everything was a lie at the exact same time. But Vi was brilliant and brave and that made facing the impossible easier somehow. Now it’s just her and everything continues to be a lie, but there’s a coldness to it that makes her bones ache. 

“I think you were onto something,” she says. She walks over to the fire, pulls out the backup order and tosses it in. 

“I won’t rescind the order,” Caitlyn says. That should be the end of it. But Vi looks at her with her grey eyes and seems to cut through all her defenses, “but I don’t forgive her. I still want her to pay.” 

She expects Vi to explode but she just ducks her head and looks back at the fire. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you she was there,” Vi says, “I was just thinking about saving our dad.”

Caitlyn knows she has so much to apologize for. To so many people. Most of all to Vi. But she’s been trapped on the precipice while Vi just hurls herself off of it. Like it’s natural to apologize, dust yourself off and keep going. Caitlyn doesn’t know how Vi is so fearless. She always thought when she was able to see the real world, she would be as well. But she’s not. Her parents always showed her she could do anything, she deserved to do anything she wanted. Because she was a Kiramman. And yet it’s Vi whose brave and forgiving while she’s wondering how to be any of that. 

“I didn’t file the paperwork because I was hoping you would come back,” she says finally. 

“You can’t even look at me half the time,” Vi points out, something morose in her tone that guts Caitlyn. 

“It hurts,” Caitlyn admits finally, unable to complete the sentence. 

“Me too,” Vi says, her fingers curling against the mantle. 

She takes a deep breath and pushes herself away, moving towards the window. It’s hard for her to be there, it’s hard to watch her walk away. Caitlyn doesn’t know what possesses her to speak when they’ve only just managed to have something resembling a normal conversation. 

“I won’t wear the cape if you stay for morning drills.” 

Vi pauses and turns around. 

She doesn’t talk though so Caitlyn continues. 

“We fought well together.” 

“You mean when you saved my life and carried me off the battlefield?” Vi offers, but her hands are in her pockets and she steps forward. Away from the window, “Think you did most of the work there.”

“I usually do,” Caitlyn says. Vi scoffs, “it would be good to practice as—“

“A team?” Vi offers. Caitlyn nods. Vi considers her for a moment and then shrugs, “I could use a workout.”

Something in Caitlyn’s chest starts to flutter, even as she desperately tries to tamp it down. Vi walks over to the door. 

“Oh Loris is hungover, so go easy on him.” 

&&&&

General Kiramman and Enforcer Kiramman are blue. 

Caitlyn is red. 

Red like her sparring wraps, red like fire, red like a blush. Red like a memory. Red like blood. Red like the angry line that bisects her face from Ambessa’s blade. Vi finds her in front of the mirror, staring at her remaining eye. 

“I deserve this,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself. 

“I’ve got those scars too,” Vi offers.

Caitlyn meets her eyes in the mirror, gasps and nearly topples over. Vi’s had her eye swollen shut enough to appreciate the loss of depth perception. Though she knows that’s not the only reason. She’s by her in a flash, steadying her quickly. Caitlyn tenses but doesn’t yank away. She just turns her head away. Caitlyn’s always looked pretty perfect, even running around the Undercity. Vi thinks the leg scar may have been her first one. This is a pretty spectacular second. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says quickly, “should you be out of bed?”

“I had to see,” Caitlyn says. Her eye scans across Vi’s face. Vi would look away but she doesn’t want to risk dropping her, “how long are your eyes going to glow?“

That makes her glance in the mirror. She doesn’t recognize the pink eyes that glow back at her. Not set in her own face anyway. The doctors said the glow should lessen as the drug works itself out of he system. Vi has no intention of becoming a shimmer addict. Even if the stuff saved her life. 

“A few days maybe,” she says, “docs say they might stay pink though. Is that—” Vi doesn’t know how to ask if that is something that’s going to rip them apart again. It’s not something she can change. 

Caitlyn motions vaguely at her missing eye. 

“I suppose both our eyes are different now,” she says, wincing when she tries to give a reassuring smile. 

“Let’s get you bandaged,” Vi tells her, “lean on me.” 

Caitlyn sits in front of her and lets Vi wind bandages over the cut. It will be a long road of healing but they are both alive. At the moment that’s the only fucking thing that matters. She tries to be gentle as she secures the bandage behind Caitlyn’s head. Caitlyn focuses on her with her remaining eye. The white threats through her hair but Vi can’t forget the red. 

“You’re pink,” Caitlyn muses. 

“Give it time, your scar will match,” Vi points out, “don’t try to smile,” she says when Caitlyn winces. There’s no shimmer Thank god, just those white tablets that take the edge off, “here.” 

Caitlyn takes them. Vi knows it’s darker in Cait’s canopy bed but it all seems the same as the shimmer heightens everything. She doesn’t know how any of this is going to play out. But some part of her and Caitlyn are painted with the same color for once. 

And somehow that’s all that matters.