#adam banks x fem reader

[whyareyouhere66]

✭ In the spirit of December/New Years and me rewatching mighty ducks - here’s an Adam x reader fic for y’all 

.·:*¨༺ Adam Banks x Fem! Reader - Lessons on Ice ༻¨*:·.

Cw: just fluff, fem reader, 3rd pov, self indulgent, kinda clumsy reader. Loosely edited. I know nothing about ice skating nor it’s terminology 😭

x

The cold breeze is numbing as it flows around Y/n’s uncovered face, biting at her skin. It feeezes her cheeks and sends shivers down her spine as a new draft wafts through the air, the material of her sweater barely protecting the rest of the girl’s arms and torso from the ice rink’s chilly atmosphere. 

In fact, the only warmth in she could find in her fingers comes from his hands, intertwined with hers. 

“Adam- I don’t think-“

“Shh, you got it, trust me.”

Y/n’s legs wobble for the ump-teenth time, and she has very little trust in the ice skates decorating her feet. How are these slim blades supposed to carry her? With her balance? Oh, honey. 

“Babe-“ the girl laughs sheepishly, finding some humor in her obvious lack of skill. Though, some of her giggles are just a weak attempt at covering the flush of anxiety in her stomach- the adrenaline that keeps her muscles stiff, precariously hobbling about in the ice skates. And yet, he’s still so utterly calm- wearing an amused smile, his lack of panic humbling. 

Groups of people skate smoothly around the pair; couples, families, friends, a few people on their own. Although the girl definitely isn’t the only one to be struggling- her cheeks still flush in subtle embarrassment as she stumbles about the slick, scraped up surface- clinging onto Adam for dear life.

The boy wraps his arms around her forearms to offer her more support, “Push with your feet, try and mimic me.” He talks smoothly, his years of hockey knowledge coming to good use. 

Y/n tries to follow his advice- staring at the ground, eyes glued to his skates, taking note of the way he pushes them at an angle, moving his body backwards smoothly. She tries to replicate the stance, angling the skates similarly so she can move- inverting the movements to go forwards instead of backwards. 

Her eyes are stiffly glued to the ground now, observing, learning. Adam watches the way she focuses so intently, and something familiar flutters in the pit of his stomach as a small smile rises to his face.

There’s something endearing, watching how she puts every ounce of effort into moving in tandem with him, learning from his skilled movements. His chapped lips etch small lines of admiration into his rosy cheeks, his blue eyes holding a small glint.

His momentary trance is interrupted, however, when he notices Y/n’s feet more firmly sliding with his- that smile widening to a small grin. 

“There, look- you’re getting it.” He speaks with a hint of pride- which the girl picks up on quickly. With newfound encouragement, she finds the courage to look away from the ground and lift her head up just for a second to look at Adam. He nods, a strand of his chestnut hair falling from its perfectly styled form and across his forehead. 

They slide along the side of the rink the passes by the various decorations, put up to bring in the Christmas spirit. In the middle of the walkway stands a tall tree, ornaments of varying color decorating its long branches, and rainbow lights illuminating the small green spines. Y/n remembers having stopped before its large trunk when they first arrived, wanting to take a second to admire the pretty colors and nostalgic feeling it gave before she was dragged to the uncertainty of the foggy white surface.

The couple makes it a few more feet when he notices her posture to be a bit hunched.

“Straighten up a bit, it’ll help you balance.” He offers his advice casually, to which the girl obeys. She’s a bit unsteady still- but she does adjust slightly, straightening her spine and attempting to lift her chin. The shift in position makes her breath catch- the lingering fear of toppling over again mixed with the nerves flittering up her spine sends a little yelp from her throat. She can feel as the skates slide a little under her- fingers tightening around Adam’s arms, which he obviously notices. Instead of panicking, though, he continues to hold her steady and even slows his own pace a bit, allowing her the quick moment to find some balance. 

Y/n silently thanks the gods above for Adam’s sturdiness and patience, knowing if it were anyone else she would be sprawled out on the cold ground by now. 

Not that she still doesn’t notice the way his mouth perks up in amusement.

“You’re doing good,” he expertly shifts them around as they come up on the curve of the rink’s edge, “better than I thought you would.”

At that, Y/n’s jaw falls agape in mock offense. 

“Uh-“

Adam laughs a bit, “I’m joking, just joking-“

The two have probably done a couple laps or so around the entirety of the rink, progress having had been stumped with the first couple of times Y/n fell on her ass. In the front of her mind, she knows she’ll probably never truly understand how to skate- having the balance of a 3-legged baby hippo- however having Adam as a cane helps a lot, and despite her wobbliness, she is able to fall into a nice rhythm. 

Brushing off his quip, and feeling a bit triumphant, the girl gives a half-suppressed laugh at her small victory. Her feet move like that of a real ice skater, the blades of the skates reflecting in the lights that surround them and she marvels at the swiftness in how the ice gets sliced beneath her feet. Glancing up once more, she catches Adam’s boyish expression staring right back at her, watching intently. 

Their eyes meet, a feeling of joy and lighthearted fun caught in a moment of time. 

Adam’s hands begin to slide from her elbows to her palms, allowing for a looser grip. “Want to try it side by side?”

The sudden challenge has Y/n’s fingers curling around his wrists, wanting to stay stabilized when he suddenly shifts their position. 

“Uh, not sure I’m quite there yet-“ She knows that she’s gotten too comfortable with clinging onto him- the idea of now doing it without him in front of her isn’t looking reassuring. Adam chuckles at her hesitance.

“C’monn, it won’t be too bad. I’ll be holding your hand still.” He tries to persuade the girl, who glances out at the ice and tries to imagine skating without his body as a constant safety net. 

When she turns her head once more, she finds his face suddenly closer, his eyes peering down at her with a genuine glint and a soft, teasing look. 

“I won’t let you fall, promise.”

Y/n’s lips turn into an upside down smile, sighing dramatically. 

“Fine- you better not.”

At her agreement, Adam lights up- nodding triumphantly. 

They begin to round the bend of the rink, and as they glide along the long side, he slowly moves to skate next to her.

At first, her sudden view of the long icy path ahead wracks up her nerves and she clasps Adam’s hand firmly. Her now free hand awkwardly juts out, as she’s unsure what to do with it besides stiffen it and flatten her palm to face the ground, like a penguin. They move slowly, as to not send her flying right away- and there’s an obvious contrast to each other’s statures. Adam glides along smoothly, his free hand hanging comfortably at his side and his legs doing exactly what they’re supposed to do, no hesitance or question behind any of his movements. He’s a natural, a true talent, like a creature thriving in its natural habitat.

“See? Not too bad.” He quips, though Y/n has her eyes trained on the path ahead of her, so he doesn’t get much of an answer back. 

And of course, he jinxes it.

As they come up to the next rounded corner, y/n remembers she doesn’t really know how to shift directions on her own. Quickly overthinking it, her skates lose their previous, somewhat controlled track and she swerves. 

A mumbled curse falling under her breath, she clings onto the nearest and safest thing to her- Adam. 

He’s a bit startled when she begins to stumble, suddenly feeling her hands grabbing at his arms like needy paws, and in a swift second, she’s losing balance and tripping over herself. Her heart surges with adrenaline as she braces herself for impact, already reimagining the hard, cold, slippery surface awaiting. 

Y/n barely has time to shut her eyes, knees buckling as she fails to stand firmly on a slick surface- when she feels her boyfriend’s arms engulf her. 

His long limbs are wrapping around her waist and tugging her into his chest as he naturally swoops in and redirects her fall from the ground and to his welcoming embrace. On instinct, she wraps her arms around his shoulder and scrambles to realign her footing- only to fail immediately. At this point they’re a jumble of Y/n’s quiet, frantic curses and Adam’s muffled struggle. However he once more comes to the rescue as he uses his hands on her waist and back to firmly press her to his body, restricting the frantic movements of her feet and stabilizing the two of them with his own. 

Even after their movements are no longer panicked- Y/n still grasps at Adam’s shoulders, her face buried into the space between his collarbone and his neck. Then she bursts out laughing, face hot and sheepish. 

When the chestnut-haired boy comes to realize that she’s fine and in fact shaking into his chest for good reason, he lets out a breath of relief, and levity. 

“You okay?” He asks, peering down at her, and she just nods- face still hidden. 

He raises his hands to her head, cupping her cheeks to look at her face, “You sure?” He reiterates, although he knows she’s fine. When he finds her embarrassed smile, he chuckles softly. 

“Yuh huh.” She mumbles, though it’s clear she no longer trusts the precarious blades beneath her anymore. Sensing she may want a break, Adam nods along with her little murmur and rubs his thumb down her cheek bone. 

“Want me to buy you some hot chocolate?”

She nods feebly once more- he knows her so well. 

“Yes please…”

With that, he leads her to the small door at the edge of the icy plain, being cautious of the groups they pass by to do so.

The content look on her face when she finally settles onto a cold metal bench, a small cup of the chocolate treat warming her hands, makes it all well worth it. 

[sanakiras]

BOUND BY BLOOD [TEASER]

PAIRING — yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

WORD COUNT — 692 [full fic is 10k+]

SYNOPSIS — in an attempt to escape your past, you join your mother when she moves in with her soon-to-be husband at the other side of the country. the only downside is that your new stepbrother causes you to sink deeper into the rabbit hole you were so desperately trying to leave behind.

TAGS — mentions of death, dark content (stepcest + incestuous undertones), explicit sexual content, mc and jeonghan are two fucked up pervs coming together to maximize their joint slay, additional tags to be added

♪ — ethel cain - family tree,, charli xcx - apple,, ruelle - monsters,, boy harsher - pain,, lana del rey - in my feelings,, unloved - danger,, twin tribes - monolith,, banks - the fall

NOTE — title is not what u think it is i promise. yes i came up with this fic after going through ethel cain’s discography can you tell. do keep in mind that this is just fictional and nothing more than a fantasy, so please (!) skip if the tags make you uncomfortable <3

despite being an adult, your mother’s authority still has a hold on you sometimes.

which is why instead of being in bed all morning like you’d planned, you’re currently in a grand church, seated on a bench in the back of the spacious hall with jeonghan next to you.

your parents were adamant on sitting near the front, but when you were walking into the hall just ten minutes ago, it was jeonghan who took you by your arm so that you and him could sit in the back together, and you’re honestly thankful for it.

with a sigh, you don’t know if you’re talking to yourself, or him. “i have no idea what i’m doing here. i’m not even catholic. pretty sure my mom isn’t, either.”

“no? not a fan of monotonous singing in a cold hall on sunday mornings?”

a scoff escapes you, followed by a sarcastic quip. “such a way with words, brother dearest.”

jeonghan shrugs, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. “maybe you should pretend to be sick next time our parents want us to tag along. i’ll have no other option but to stay home and take care of you.”

is it so wrong of him to want you all to himself?

“creative.” you mutter with a grin, simultaneously hiding the effect his words have on your body.

he only gives you that mischievous smile, looking at you from the corner of his eye, and you can’t resist the soft chuckles escaping you.

not much later, he’s sitting closer to you, using it as an excuse to whisper in your ear. “me and my dad aren’t catholic either. i’m guessing it’s just about appearances.”

“of course,” you roll your eyes, “maybe they wanna get married here and this is their way of checking it out.”

jeonghan, very selfishly, doesn’t want to think about his father and your mother getting married. he just smiles at you as a way to conceal his true feelings, and all he can think about is that he should’ve met you first, that you should’ve been his.

so he averts his gaze, attempting to focus on whatever the pastor is saying, hoping it’ll take his mind off it.

the preaching is grim and anything but welcoming. words like hell and damnation are thrown around numerous times in a speech that feels almost like it’s spoken in a foreign language, and he hates it — he hates being here.

but perhaps not as much as you do.

“we must and will all pay for our sins, one way or another—” the pastor’s voice rings through your ears. his words keep replaying in your head, and it begins to make you feel dizzy, heavy existential suffering overtaking your chest, like a loud scream being pushed down but fighting to work its way up your throat.

you have to stop thinking about it.

you have to let it go.

jeonghan takes notice of your change in body language. where you were previously hardly moving a muscle, your breathing has become irregular, chest rising and falling more visibly, and you’re digging your nails into the skin of your thigh.

what he’d do to know what’s going on in that head of yours.

he puts his hand just above your knee in an attempt to comfort you, and when you look up at him with almost disturbed eyes, all you find in his gaze is — understanding.

jeonghan doesn’t know what it is you’re hiding from him, but he figures you must’ve done something wrong in your past, if this is your reaction to the speech currently being given.

but he’s done wrong too.

his palm is still resting comfortably on your bare skin, and your shaky hand reaches out for his instinctively; it feels so right. instead of letting you put your hand on top of his, he raises it to hold yours, intertwining your fingers.

when you look at him with corners of your mouth downturned and eyes glossy, your hand clenching his like you need it as much as you need to breathe, he chooses not to give a damn whether your parents choose to get married or not.

he’ll be there for you when you need it — he’ll make you his.

update: full fic is now available here

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[s1ater]

no running.

pairings. adam banks x fem!reader

about. adam banks takes a job as a life guard for the summer causing a round of laughs from the ducks

warnings. swearing, gif not mine, short scenario

ricky rocks. i saw this concept somewhere on here but i don’t remember where... this is also partly old writing from when I was in my adam phase. I'm really just trying to clear my drafts.

you paused for a second, just like the rest of the ducks with their towels and goggles with their snacks and sunscreen stuffed in their beach bags and slung over their shoulders, staring up in what seemed to be the sun. 

you almost gasped, slinging your sunglasses off your face once you came to realization of what all of you were staring at from a far: adam banks sitting on the tall lifeguards chair with a whistle strung around his neck. 

it seemed all of you were quite dumbfounded with the sight of the pale teenage boy you all called a friend, and in your case: a boyfriend. 

“well, I'll be darned,” charlie squinted, making his way to the blonde boy who hadn’t even taken notice to the rest of you. charlie had the biggest smirk on his face as he stared up to adam, his hat covering the line of sight to his eyes. “never took you one for a swimmer, banksy!” 

the boy almost looked stunned as he connected eye contact with the rest of you. he tipped his head lowly, his black generic sunglasses sliding down to the tip of his nose.

“what’re you guys doing here?”

“we could ask you the same thing, hot shot.”

“i’m working…” he looked confused, like he had been knocked up the head and couldn’t figure what was going on.

"adam!" your voice comes out as a yell, mixed with confusion and pure amusement. "since when are you a lifeguard?"

he continues to match your confusion in tone, as if it were strange that all of you found this strange, "this summer?"

"yeah but when?"

"don't you have to like... train for this?" julie tips her head to the side, her hand shading her eyes from the bright sun beating down on all of you. "and pass tests?"

"yes," he says it in a 'duh' tone. "what's the problem?"

"nothing, sweetheart, we're just kind of confused on why you didn't tell any of us... let alone how you found the time to become one," you. try to suppress a giggle as you press out a voice that sounded like you were babying him.

"yeah, sweetheart," luis mocks you for a moment, "obviously you're not here for the hot chicks, so what's the deal?"

"I was just bored," he shrugs simply, "and I guess I forgot to tell you guys."

a damn lie. you knew he was probably just too embarrassed to tell you all.

"hey, I'm cool with it," charlie's hands go up in defense, seeming to also catch on to this fact. "as long as you let us in on the free snack bar snacks."

"yeah, whatever," he waves you all off. "you guys get out of here, go swim or something."

you smile, kissing your hand before slapping in on his leg before moving on with everyone else.

"try working on your tan while you're up there, banks!"

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚇𝙸. 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ

𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader

| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, toxic family dynamics, parental abuse, alcoholism/disordered alcohol use, protective!Joel, domestic fluff, hurt/comfort, beauty in the mundane, learning to be peaceful in the stillness WORD COUNT: 6.8k

| CHAPTER SUMMARY: How odd it is to be haunted by someone who is still alive.

“But what if I miss a payment?”

“You’re not gonna miss a payment,” he assures you for the millionth time.

“And the interest is, like, 27%, so if I miss a payment it’s gonna be so much extra on top of the bill,” you stress.

“Your interest is only that high because you don’t have any credit in your name, baby. It’ll get knocked down eventually – once you build up a good history – but that’s just how it starts out most of the time.”

You can tell he’s about to launch into his comforting finance dialogue yet again, but you don’t stop him. You still need to hear him say it, even if it feels like he’s beating a dead horse at this point. You need the comfort in his assurances, and for once you don’t get down on yourself for needing it and seeking it out.

“And you’re not gonna make huge purchases to start, right? You’re gonna put small, consistent charges on there every month and pay it in full every month. After 6 months to a year, you’ll get a low credit utilization ratio, and you might be able to increase your credit limit. It sounds scary, but it’s really simple. I promise. And I can go over it as many times as you need to feel comfortable with it.”

You gnaw your bottom lip and review the little pamphlets and flyers Joel collected for you. He was insistent about having you use your money not for helping with the mortgage or grocery bill or utilities but rather to open your own bank account and then a line of credit so that you could start building credit in your name and your name solely.

Now you were on a Joel Miller crash course about interest rates, utilization ratios, FICO scoring, and all sorts of other financial planning topics that were meant to help you build a firm foundation for lifelong financial independence and security. You constantly doubted yourself and felt overwhelmed with the volume of information, but Joel was adamant about it. After a while, some of it was finally sticking, and you could only pray that you’d pick up more and more of it each time.

Your payments were scheduled automatically now through your online banking, which he also helped you set up, and he helped you get into the habit of keeping track of things on the phone app. “If it’s easy enough for me to do it, I know you won’t have any issue with it” he’d laughed when he first installed it. He was honest to god excited about how much you’d be able to put into savings over the course of the next five years. 

The concept of five years into the future felt hard to conceptualize. You were still getting used to staying on your feet most days and taking more onto your plate when possible. But to Joel, it was something just around the corner. He talked about it as though it was clear as day in his mind’s eye. He saw that future for you – for the both of you – so easily.

The thrum of your pulse felt sticky every time at the casual insinuation that he’d be there to see it, that you and him would still be together and happy and in love, but your stomach lurched at the thought of it. 

He cared an awful lot about you. That much was clear. It was the whole acknowledging the whole being in love thing that made it harder to fathom. It felt dangerously hopeful. It was hard enough to admit to yourself that you loved him, even though there was really no denying it at this point. But that awful, nagging worry still nipped at your heels: would he grow tired of it all one of these days? The mollycoddling and constant instruction for shit you should’ve had all figured out by now?

There was no real concept of losing him in your head because that was even harder to envision than anything else. Your thoughts flipped over to a blank slide when you even tried to imagine what it would feel like to not have him in your life. When the nerves of it all started to prick and sting and make you nauseous, those were the moments you held him a little closer to you until the fear subsided.

Joel doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s watching you, all bent over the edge of the deck with your little stack of porcelain plates that you carefully arrange in a neat line along the step.

“Madeline and Helen, you’re over here,” you call over your shoulder to the two grungy “frenemy” cats, as you’d dubbed them.

He snorts and shakes his head, but you just ignore him and continue with your task. All the plates are dispersed, and your usual hoard of neighborhood cats have come meowing and pawing for the “good brand wet food” you insisted on buying for them. When you first started this habit of spoiling the “cat collective,” Joel had been surprised to learn that so many stray cats roamed the neighborhood. That was, until he noticed that many of them had collars and tags. Despite belonging to a nearby family and having perfectly good homes, they regularly showed up like the greedy, indulgent creatures they were.

You didn’t mind, though. You were delighted to greet them all every night like the informal mayor of some feline city. You gave them names despite some tags displaying an entirely different moniker. They responded to whatever you called them, though, so he really had no room to say anything about that. The corner of his mouth twitched up as he watched you slip into your little routine. You’d taken to giving them all nicknames or new names, mostly from movies you’ve watched together.

When the two “frenemy cats” had gotten into a little brawl on the stairs a few weeks back, you broke up their fight and giggled to yourself when you came up with the grand idea of naming them after characters from Death Becomes Her. He shared in a laugh at the fitting names you chose, and you flashed him a million kilowatt smile that made his knees weak.

He watches in open amusement as you chide Walter –  the rotund, irritable tabby that struggles to play nice with others once he’s gobbled up his own dish and is unable to bully others for theirs. You’d quoted “you’re outta your element, Donny!” to Walter about a half dozen times by now, but he never seemed to find your references to The Big Lebowski as hilarious as you did. The grumpy furball looks up at you, annoyed but put in his place, and allows you to scratch his head.

While you made your nightly circuit, Joel scanned the back deck, surveying a potential spot for a small safehouse unit. Might as well start looking into building a heated, insulated area for all these cats since you’ll probably worry yourself sick over how cold they could get in the winter without proper shelter. They could always carry their asses back to their own houses in the neighborhood, but, knowing you, the thought of “what if?” would make you fret enough that he wants to have a plan and build ready to go when it’s time. He tucks it into his mind for later, just like so many other ideas and dreams and possible futures with you.

For now he enjoys giving you the space to indulge in the things that make you happy, a freedom to do something not because there’s an end goal in mind but because it makes you feel radiant in the moment. He loves to see what you latch onto without the angry voice of a controlling dirtbag berating you and making you feel insignificant and frivolous just for finding joy in things.

Watching you shift from constantly on edge to relaxed was a reward all in itself. It was most noticeable at night. You’d stir so frequently in bed those first few weeks after moving in. It might’ve been the new house noises, sure, but there’s no doubt the learned vigilance was a big part of your tendency to be a light sleeper. When you’d startle awake, he’d wake, too. You’d be apologetic and sometimes even a little embarrassed at being so jumpy “over nothing.” He’d just pull you closer and tell you it was okay and to try to go back to sleep. It took a while before it really sunk in, but eventually falling asleep and staying asleep came easier to you.

He was constantly discovering new ways your upbringing and home life had carved these jagged neural pathways in your mind. He didn’t know what the answer was for some of them, other than time, but for the simpler things, like letting you freely explore hobbies and whims, he’d jump at the opportunity to give you that sort of life.

“Do you think I could just… wear some shorts and a shirt? I mean….”

Your words taper off as you stare down at the dress Sarah had ordered online along with the pretty blue one you wore to Kenzie’s graduation ceremony. You didn’t want to repeat the blue dress when you’d just worn it so recently, but you really didn’t want to be up moving around and socializing in a dress all day anyway. Plus, the temperature had crept up steadily now that Memorial Day had just come and gone. Ideally it was denim cutoffs and tank top weather, but you could deal with some linen type shorts and a t-shirt for the sake of a party.

“I’ll match with whatever you put on, so just go with somethin’ comfortable,” he suggests. “There’s worse things than being underdressed for a college graduation party. I doubt anybody’ll even care, honey.”

He was probably right, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself and drag Joel down with you. Attending parties and looking the part of a well put-together couple was new for you, and there was only so much “fake it ‘til you make it” bravado that could pull you through these sorts of settings. Joel dons a pair of darkwash, neat jeans with a short-sleeved button up, and you huff loudly at how easy he makes things look. 

He catches your toothless irritation and shoots you a wink before grabbing the dress and hanging it up in your shared closet.

“C’mon, let’s look at the shirt options ya got,” he encourages.

The lack of options ended up being a bit of a blessing because it meant you weren’t overwhelmed with choices.  You wind up settling on a spaghetti strap top that’s nice and flowy with a small bow detail in the back. It wasn’t the fanciest thing, but it was dressier than a plain t-shirt. A once over in the mirror reflected a pretty well put together outfit, and your shoulders relaxed with the crisis having been avoided thanks to Joel. He, of course, looked effortlessly handsome and casual.

The drive to Kenzie’s house for the party is uneventful, as are most of your driving excursions these days. Pretty soon you’ll accrue enough hours of road time to take the test to be an actual, bonafide licensed driver. Joel is in his usual spot in the passenger seat with a hand resting on your thigh, calming and a reminder that you’ve got help if you need it. 

The half-circle drive is full of cars with brands you’re sure you could never pronounce correctly. The front of the house and down the street is lined with more of the same, and Joel takes mercy on you when it’s time to parallel park, swapping seats with you and taking over. You watch the confident stretch of his arm along the back of your seat as he reverses neatly into a spot. He hops out to get the door for you, and you both comment on the lavish decorations as you walk into the party.

There’s way more people in attendance than you anticipated, and you just hope you won’t have to socialize too much with people you’re probably never going to see again. Kenzie’s dad spots you and makes his way over to extend a firm handshake to Joel and a warm side hug to you. He doesn’t stick around for long as he returns to his hosting duties, but he flags down a member of the waitstaff for beverages before politely excusing himself to continue on his rounds.

Joel whistles low and cocks a brow as he takes in all of the setup. “Nice lookin’ party.”

You laugh under your breath at the understatement of the century. “It’s insane. This could be somebody’s wedding! It’s freaking gorgeous,” you gush.

He agrees silently, sipping on his cocktail and wrapping his free hand around your lower back and waist. He points out that most people seem to be either wearing business casual adjacent looks or something more formal, which places you both a little underdressed but not so much that you stick out. You also observe that he was right about people not really seeming to notice or care what you had on. It made you feel a bit more relaxed as you sought out Kenzie.

So far you hadn’t come across anyone you knew, but it wasn’t awkward with Joel by your side. He had that poised, assured air about him like always, and it made everything feel manageable. Under control. Free of chaos.

“Ooohhh, hey!” a high pitched squeal sounds across an open path of people. You turn to see someone you recognize but can’t remember her name. You refresh Joel’s memory that this is Kenzie’s friend who had asked him at the graduation about any single brothers, cousins, or nephews that he might have. She shimmies up to you and waves excitedly.

“There’s my little matchmakers!”

Joel laughs awkwardly and shakes his head. “Sorry to tell you, er….” he trails off, her name clearly not springing to his mind either.

Thankfully she doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and you're not entirely convinced she’s aware of much at all. “Sel,” she supplies with a bright smile.

“Sel, right,” he amends. “Sorry to tell you, Sel, but we are unfortunately here sans eligible bachelors.”

She makes an exaggerated pouty face before busting into a fit of giggles and shrugging. “Aw, dammit. Can’t win ‘em all, I guess. Well, it was good seeing you!”

She struts away without another word, and you and Joel exchange an amused look.

“Wonder how many of these she’s had,” Joel chuckles, shaking his half empty cocktail glass.

You giggle and playfully slap his side. “Oh, shush. She’s entitled to celebrate a little bit. It’s gotta feel good getting that degree after being in school for four years,” you contend.

He bobs his head in passive agreement. “Now remind me again why your friend was workin’ with you in a grocery store when she’s got all this waiting for her back home? Coulda just focused on her studies, couldn’t she’ve?”

It was a fair question. Why on earth would someone work a minimum wage, public facing job if their family could afford this sort of lifestyle? 

“She told me before that her dad wanted her to know what the ‘real world’ was like. I’m pretty sure he didn’t grow up with a whole lot, and I guess he didn’t want his kids to end up spoiled or whatever.”

Joel nods his head like that makes perfect sense to him. “Explains why her dad seems like a decent guy. Doesn’t have that ‘daddy’s money’ attitude. Your friend doesn’t either for that matter, so I guess he’s done a pretty good job keepin’ her level headed.”

When you finally do come across Kenzie, she seems a bit frazzled. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so uptight and serious. She hastily explains that she’s spent the entire party schmoozing with all her dad’s “dumb important friends” and hasn’t had a chance to relax at all. You feel a bit sorry for her, but you know she’ll probably end up with extravagant gifts from said family friends in exchange for a few social niceties. 

Your eye lands on a familiar looking man whose identity isn’t readily placed. Was he at the graduation ceremony, too? Was he the dad to one of Kenzie’s friends? He looks at you for a split second like he recognizes you as well, before he looks away, disinterested. You shrug it off. Maybe he’s just got one of those faces.

Kenzie’s dad comes back around and asks if he can “borrow Joel for a minute,” to which you assure Joel you’re fine without his company for a little while. He shoots you one last worried glance over his shoulder as Kenzie’s dad claps a hand against his back and starts up the construction conversation they’d been having at the ceremony. You watch Joel’s reluctant figure weave through the crowd until he’s following Kenzie’s dad inside the house through a large side door. 

The sea of attendees around you make for good people watching. You wouldn’t admit it to Joel, but not having him by your side feels strange and a bit vulnerable, especially now that you spend practically every waking moment together. It was something you’d become rather accustomed to, and with your nerves starting to pick up again you remind yourself that it’s healthy to do things on your own every once in a while. You’d done it plenty in your life, and being subjected to it now wouldn’t kill you. 

A solid twenty minutes have passed, and you distract yourself with the abundance of ornate decorations.

Deeper into the backyard is a small bunching of rose bushes. The delicate folds of pink petals have you considering asking Joel if he could plant this sort of thing in your backyard. You smile gently to yourself, running a fingertip along the velvet furl of the rosette. Your backyard. Together. A little garden of eden right smack dab in the middle of Texas.

Sentimental musings are cut short with the announcement of a “few words shared on the eastern lawn” in about five minutes. Throngs of guests begin making their way toward the tabled section that you assume is the “eastern lawn,” and Joel is still nowhere in sight.

You hang back and check your phone. No texts or missed calls. You call him, but it rings until it goes through to voicemail. He’d probably muted it for the party. You decide to just go look for him in the house, letting yourself into the same side door they’d used when they went inside almost 30 minutes ago. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten carried away talking business.

A welcomed cool breeze butts against your bare skin when you slip inside, the indoor AC a stark difference to the looming summer heat outside. A pristine and stately kitchen filled with stock for the party greets you: ice filled coolers, wrapped trays of hor d’oeuvres lining the countertops, napkins and utensils and glassware all stacked to the side and ready to go when toasts are made. The smooth marble counters give an air of quiet opulence, made all the more silent with no noise coming from anywhere in the house.

A sliver of a stairwell is visible just around the corner. A separate hallway stretches door after door, no light glowing from any of the rooms behind them. A dull babble of laughter and conversation outside at the opposite end of the house is practically a white noise in this massive, empty space. Joel’s deep timbre is absent. No creaking footsteps from upstairs. No friendly hum of conversation.

It felt a bit intrusive to just waltz upstairs to look for him, but it’s not like you didn’t have a good reason to be looking around. Surely at the very least Kenzie’s dad wouldn’t want to miss whatever was about to happen on the eastern lawn.

“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you hiding out in here.”

The familiar voice cuts through your chest, your heart clenching sharply as you turn to find your dad wearing a nasty, callous expression. He looks more exhausted than you remember, somehow more dead in the eyes. It’s only been a few weeks since you’ve last seen him, but he stands before you more gnarled and sickly than memory serves. His skin shines with a thin layer of perspiration, and his lips are so dry and chapped it’s as if all the moisture in his body is steadily exiting through the gathering beads of sweat along his brow. His eyes are sluggish but malevolent, darting all along your face and body as though he’s taking inventory of your present state.

The words you wish to scream, for him to get away from you, get twisted and caught in your throat. You stand there, infuriatingly mute, and await whatever venom he’s here to deliver. He makes no rush as he walks fully into the room and slides the door shut. He looks so out of place here, in your world. In your life. A living ghost here to haunt you once more.

“Takes guts to be at somebody’s party celebrating everything you’ll never be.” He pauses to let the barb cleave and carve, laughing to himself as he continues, “ I mean, imagine you a college graduate. Barely fucking graduated high school.”

His line of sight wanders around the room as he picks you apart. Although his air is indifferent and unrushed, you have an odd, sneaking feeling that he doesn’t want to look you in the eye again until he’s established a rhythm of cutting you down, as though your absence has left him feeling out of sorts and unpracticed in destruction.

“Some hell of a fluke that the driven, successful young ladies here at this party see anything in common with a loser like you.”

His eyes slip over to yours again, narrowing with palpable hatred. “Can’t imagine any of them are a complete embarrassment to their families.”

“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to spit out.

He bobs on the balls of his feet, stepping around airily with his hands in his pockets like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like he found all of this an amusing way to pass the time. Like he hadn’t just cannonballed himself into your life again.

“Got a funny text from an, uh, acquaintance of mine. A picture of you, sticking out like a sore thumb. Surrounded by better dressed people. Way outta your social class.”

Embarrassment warms the back of your neck and the tips of your ears at his astute, cutting words.

“Had my friend wondering if he was imagining it was you - misremembering your face, maybe – especially since he didn’t see me anywhere nearby. Told him he was right and that I’d be sure to come say hello when I dropped in.  He was nice enough to remind me of the address. What a guy,” he finishes in a dry tone.

He laughs, a hollow and mirthless sound, and takes a step forward, hands shoved in his pockets that you now realize are balled into fists. His voice was steady enough, but the fury bubbling beneath the surface was quickly rising to the tipping point. There was no doubt he’d been drinking heavily – that dangerous teetering between being dampened by the alcohol and being livid that it still didn’t make all his problems fade away into a muted, ignorable thing.

“How much have you had today?” you lob at him. “Or has it just carried over from last night?”

He laughs again, just as empty and forced as the first. “It’s funny because, the thing is, I can promise you there’s no amount of whiskey that could make me as delusional as you are. I mean, parading around this party in what? Backyard barbecue clothes? Can’t even put together a decent outfit for one day, but you expect to keep up with these people? College graduates getting real jobs, not just some entry level bullshit you sucked off some old jackass for.”

Heat rises on your chest and neck at the insinuation that Joel only offered you the job in return for sexual favors. You jut your chin out defiantly but can’t find the words to say. Can’t find the words that will defend yourself. Defend Joel. Make your dad leave with his tail between his legs. He takes your silence as another opportunity to tear you down.

“You think you got real friends here? How many times do you think they’re gonna cover your tab? Spot you $100? Invite you to weekend trips? Hm? How many times are they gonna get out their wallets before they see you for the leech that you are?” he hisses.

“I think you need to leave,” you warn with a tremble tacked to the last word.

“And don’t get me started on that middle aged perv you got brainwashed into giving a shit about you,” he continues, completely ignoring your reproval. “He might be giving you a little allowance for now, but I give it a few years max before he dumps you for the next young bimbo he can use to wet his dick. Of course you’re too fucking stupid to realize that. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking pathetic.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” you snap, adrenaline rushing through you now and helping to supply the harsh words. 

His eyes crinkle with a malicious smirk, like he revels in finally having got to you. 

“Or what?” he sneers. “All you can ever manage to do when things get tough is run. So, what are you gonna do now? Run?”

You don’t miss the challenge in his tone, daring you to try to leave before he gives you permission to do so. 

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE NOW.”

The curve of his mouth is sickly sweet, a slip of red the only thing standing between you and his corrosive words. His gate is unhurried walking towards the door, leaning against it in a lazy show of provocation as he blocks it. The shrill tempo of your pulse in your ears grows louder while you stare each other down. It’s a dangerous game of calling the other’s bluff, and you know he’s banking on you fleeing. You know he wants to track you down and catch you this time before you can get away, just to prove that your actions wouldn’t go unpunished. Just to remind you of who’s in control. 

But something contrarian and fortified slinks between your ribcage and finds purchase there next to the hum of your heart. 

He doesn’t make the rules anymore. 

This is no longer his game that you’re forced to play just to survive. You don’t live in this nightmare anymore. This isn’t your life now. 

He doesn’t control you anymore.

“You’re a really sad person, dad.” 

The somatic buzz kindling and catching inside you yields a wave of goosebumps all over your body, the shake in your hands and voice just a timid thing that stays barely in check. You still your head and really look at the fractured shell of a man in front of you, and it’s more obvious than ever: he’s more lost than you’ve ever been and ever will be.

“You’re never gonna be happy,” you assert.

It all floods you now, a blurred picture coming into focus. That clarity you’d sought so long but never had with the mind muddling environment of abuse. But suddenly you aren’t searching for the words anymore. They’re all right on the tip of your tongue and ready to depart.

“You’re gonna die sad and miserable and probably alone, and I know that has to eat you up inside to finally realize it. That no matter how much you try to put your anger and your– and your pain onto others, it still doesn’t make it go away inside of you.”

His balled fists rest at his sides, heaving breaths moving his chest like the snap of a rubber band.

“You can’t hurt me anymore. You can’t hurt anybody I care about anymore. You don’t have the power like you used to. You’re just… you’re just nothing, dad. An empty person who’s trapped inside his own mind like a prison. And-And honestly? I feel bad for you.”

The flicker of surprise at your words graces his worn features before quickly being replaced with a deep scowl. For once it’s him cornered into a stunned silence, but you have no intention of letting up.

“I left, dad. Don’t you get it? I’m done. You don’t have power over me like that. Not anymore. The sooner you realize that, the less of your life you’ll waste trying to hurt me again because it’s not going to happen. You tried to break me down and take away everything, and it still didn’t work. I’m not broken like you. I’m gonna be okay, no matter how much you hate that. And you can call me a loser as many times as you want, but it won’t change the fact that it’s really you who’s lost out on everything in life.”

A heavy air lingers, but you feel lighter than you ever have. Your deep, centering inhale punctuates the finality of the meeting.

“I’m gonna go now, and I think you should leave the party before something bad happens.”

The urge to scurry away from the danger rises, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. You refuse to let him see you run from him anymore. 

Of course, it was never likely that he’d just let it go so easily. 

Menacing stomps follow your measured stride towards the stairwell, your exit cut short by his piercing grip around your bicep and the sharp whip of your body as he yanks you sideways to face him. The smell of alcohol comes off him like a foggy wet cloud.

“You think you just get to leave in the middle of the night like a disgusting, slimy rat and not have to answer for it?” he fumes, his nose pressing against yours when he hauls you face to face.

He doesn’t control you anymore. 

He doesn’t control you anymore. 

He doesn’t control you anymore.

There’s no hesitation in your movements, wrenching your arm from his grasp and slamming the butt of your palm into his nose. As clumsy as the unfamiliar motion is, it affords a moment of frozen shock from your father, which you take as an opening to rear back and slap him with as much force as you can muster. Your hand immediately prickles and tingles from the impact.

The few feet of space apart that you gain is quickly closed when he charges at you with a raised, clenched hand ready to strike. The fact that you’ve never fought back before seems to be your saving grace in this moment, the disorientation of you actually resisting and challenging him making his approach unsteady and delayed.

Your hand still stings from the slap as you wad it up and swing it into his gut before he can make contact with you. He sputters and doubles over in shock at the unexpected blow, but the late retribution still comes sooner than you anticipated. He readies to ambush you, lip curled over his bared teeth, when something smashes and shatters into the wall beside his head.

“I was hoping you’d show up one of these days and make trouble just so I’d have the fucking excuse to beat you within an inch of your fucking life,” Joel growls.

It’s a blur of violence as he barrels into your dad, tackling him to the floor in one headlong motion, and lands two punches before it can even register. The clamor draws more people, one of them being Kenzie’s dad who you spot darting back out of the room with his phone to his head — you assume to call the police. A handful of waitstaff hang at the perimeter of the commotion, gawking at the all out brawl taking place in the middle of the kitchen. You aren’t much better, just standing there rooted to the spot in an adrenaline freeze, as your dad manages to topple Joel onto his back and land a punch to his jaw.

By the time they flip again, two men have been alerted to the fight and brought inside to intervene. They aren’t dressed like the other waitstaff, but it’s clear they’re here working the event in some other capacity. A frenzied

yelp pierces the air as Joel digs his knees into your dad’s elbows, pinning him to the ground. Joel yanks a chilled bottle of wine from a nearby bucket and smashes the neck of it against the edge of the counter. The light catches on all the jagged edges of broken glass when he raises it in the air and flips it over in a drive directly into your dad’s mouth, who instantly gurgles and gags at the influx of liquid and serrated opening.

“You look real thirsty,” Joel taunts. “Have a drink. This one’s on me.”

Pockets of liquid jet out from the side of your dad’s mouth as he chokes on it, Joel holding the bottle snug in place as the contents pour out. The two men in matching black uniform shout “break it up, fellas,” which falls on deaf ears. The liquid eventually empties, and the bottle cracks into several more pieces when Joel slams it against your dad’s temple. Blood spills and mixes with the choked out liquid, pooling and smearing across the floor.

The two men quickly lodge themselves between the two when a flurry of fists and kicks and jabs from Joel start right back up. He manages to get one last closed hand strike to your dad’s face and one crushing stomp to his thigh as the bigger of the two uniformed men finally drags him away. Your dad lies motionless on the floor as the man scolds Joel for taking “cheap shots” instead of heeding the calls to break the fight up like they’d asked.

Joel wears a flinty, unrepentant sneer that only deepens when his eyes cast down to your unmoving but groaning dad. He spits a bloody pool of saliva onto him as he’s ushered to the other side of the kitchen.

“Put your hands on her again, asshole. See if you walk away the next time.”

You can feel all the eyes in the room slip over to you, making the connection of what had started this entire mess. Some of the faces lose their look of pity for your dad, all crumpled and thrashed in a feeble sprawl on the floor. 

“You okay, baby? He hurt you?” Joel demands.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, instead running impatient hands all along your body to assess for injury.

“I’m okay,” you answer, and it’s a relief to be able to offer that in truth. “I was holding him off long enough for you to get to me.”

His shoulders sag with the reassurance that you’ve not been harmed, hands roaming up to gently cup your jaw and search your face for any lingering distress. You don’t turn away, content to let him find the undercurrent of peace that swells within you, held in his arms. 

It’s the first Father’s Day since you severed contact. Calum had already gleefully sent you a picture of your dad’s mugshot, framed and hung on a wall in his apartment. Having the advantage of knowing you were safe and sound while he listened to the recap of Kenzie’s party meant he got to enjoy every last bit of comeuppance relayed. He’d cheered you on when you recalled how you’d defended yourself, verbally and physically, and he demanded to complement Joel directly on his part in all of it before he let you hang up.

Kenzie’s dad was the first to press charges, having absolutely no qualms about sending a message to the guy who almost ruined his daughter’s graduation party. It didn’t hurt that he had connections with some law enforcement higher ups, more than enough “fuck you money” to throw around, and a top notch lawyer on retainer ready to let the long arm of the law screw your dad over. With a neutral but supportive nudge from Joel, you also pressed charges.

When all was said and done, your dad was looking at: trespassing, assault, battery, menacing, criminal mischief, disorderly intoxication, disorderly conduct, false imprisonment, stalking, driving while intoxicated, open container in a motor vehicle, property damage, and a smattering of any other offense that the lawyer could manage to unearth, ready to assist his client in rubbing salt into your dad’s wound.

You weren’t sure how much of it was going to stick or what the outcome would be, but it sure as hell didn’t look good to have a pending imputation like that with a job like his. Hell, any employer would look sideways at a string of legal infractions that extensive and that damning. It wasn’t exactly something tenure and bullshitting could smooth over. And if Kenzie’s dad had any say in the proceedings, your dad wasn’t going to get off the hook easily.

“You’re just buttering your old man up now,” Joel chortles to the screen.

You smile to yourself as you listen to his and Sarah’s video chat. She couldn’t make it back home to celebrate in person, but she’d made sure to call and lay the sweet talk on thick.

“Yeah, but it’s obviously working, sssoooooooo….”

“Little shit,” he chuckles under his breath, walking aimlessly through the house and out onto the back deck.

You hear him laugh loudly a couple minutes later, and you can’t help but join in with your own giggle. Eventually the cadence of his voice changes into words of endearment and goodbyes. He tucks his phone into his pocket as he rounds the corner.

“You’re a really good dad,” you observe warmly.

The corner of his mouth ticks up softly at the compliment, but he takes his time walking over to where you’re sat comfortably on the couch before responding. “Ya think so, huh?”

“Yeah. I do.” 

Your voice is steady and pointed. You want him to know you mean it. You might not have a personal reference to defend your position, but you know without a doubt that Joel Miller is the best father and deserves to hear it every day of his life.

He pauses for a moment before asking, “You doin’ okay? Is the day botherin’ you at all?”

You assume he means the fact that it’s Father’s Day and you have a strong contender for worst dad on the planet.

“I actually– it might sound weird, but I actually feel really light. I feel good.”

“Not weird at all,” he assures you, plopping down next to you and scooping your legs to lay across his lap so he can rub your ankles and calves. “Dead weight is dead weight. Not bein’ weighed down by him’s gotta feel like you’re finally able to live the life you deserve. Deserve the damn moon on a string for all the shit he’s put you through.”

You exhale, an amused little sound. “You’re doing it again.”

“What? What am I doin’?”

“Gunning for Best Boyfriend in the World award.”

“Remind me again what put me in the running,” he teases and leans in for a kiss.

“A million things, but today it’s mostly just– seeing you be who you are. Getting to experience that and be a part of it.”

The air of levity dampens a bit when you reach for his hands and draw him closer, and he recognizes the shift from playful to earnest.

“I think sometimes people are just meant to… they’re made for showing love. They’re made to pour their love into special people, people they love. And they are the most happy when they get to do that. I think- I think that’s you. I think you pour your love into people, and that’s when you’re happiest. To see the people you love being filled with your love.”

“Goddamn, honey, Sarah already made me all mushy,” he grouses, suddenly blinking rapidly with glossy eyes. “Y’all are gonna have me a blubbering baby if y’all don’t quit.”

But you can’t stop. You can’t hold it in. You can’t keep yourself from gushing about this beautiful person you’ve been lucky enough to know and create this life with.

“I love you, Joel. I’m in love with you.” 

It comes out without thinking, but it’s meant for this moment. There’s no hesitation or regret in it. You want to say it again.

“I love you,” you repeat, drawing on the intoxication and freedom of it finally being spoken.

“I love you, too, honey,” he returns softly. “So damn much. Love you so damn much.”

tagging:

@copperhalfcent @guelyury @keylimebeag @magpiepills @bizarrelove-triangle

@missladym1981 @wand-erer5 @koshkaj-blog @bubble-pop-eclectic @lovelyladiess

@ellenmunn @lavema @confusedpuffin @getitoutofmymindwrites @getitoutofmymind

@fishingforpike @drunk-and-capable @sheepdogchick3 @pastelpinkflowerlife @bonezone44

@guiltyasdave @toomanystoriessolittletime

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 22

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

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Chapter 22

I might have something. You’re going to hate it. Meet to discuss?

Far from the confident lead he’d hoped for, but that’s the text he got from Duke earlier that evening. He tried to tease more information out of him, but the kid was adamant about discussing things face to face. Suspicious, but a fair request given the nature of their work. It was smarter not to talk about it over text if they could help it.

Jason still wasn’t happy about it though.

They planned to meet on the street near a safehouse located in the heart of his territory. Duke arrived in street clothes, torn jeans with an old puffer coat thrown over his hoodie. A smart move now that the sun had gone down. The yellow suit was bound to attract the wrong attention, and Jason didn’t need rumors swirling around that Red Hood was letting the Bats run amuck in Crime Alley.

Jason dropped down from where he stood watch on the roof, the hiss of his grapple gun still ringing in his ears. Duke, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. In fact, he’d never seen him more at ease than he was now, dressed as a civilian.

“This better be good.”

Duke rubbed his shorn hair. “Hey, Duke, how are you?” He said, doing what Jason could only assume was a bad impression his Jersey drawl. “Oh, ya know, same old, same old. Stopped a bank robbery the other day. Saved some kids from a burning building this morning. Oh, and I got the final hit on a Gelatinous Cube at D&D. No big. Just the highlight of my week.”

Jason crossed his arms. “I would be more impressed if it was a Beholder.”

He balked. “No way. You play?”

“Not in a while,” he said with a shrug, “Let me guess? Cleric?”

“Artificer, actually,” Duke said as he shoved his hands on his pockets, “Barbarian for you?”

“Bard.”

“Oh?”

Yeah, he expected that wide-eyed expression. He would assume he played the angry brawler class. At the very least, he wanted people to guess he played a gunslinger, but no, he would forever be the angry guy. Bullshit. Bards were infinitely more fun.

“I didn’t come here to discuss TTRPGs with you.”

“Right,” Duke said slowly, “Okay, well, let me start by saying that none of this is my fault. I was doing exactly what you asked of me and, ya know, things kinda spiraled out of hand from there.”

He narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t a promising start. “Okay?”

“But the good news is we found something.”

Hold up. Pause. Rewind.

“We? Who the fuck is we?” Deep down, Jason already knew the answer to his question, but he foolishly clung to the hope that Duke teamed up with an amiable rogue instead.

“We are a team.”

Jason swore under his breath as Tim, in all his Robin glory, hit the ground beside Duke.

“It’s been a while,” he said with a thin smile.

“Not long enough,” he shot back, “Whatever you know, forget it. I can do this alone like I should have from the start.”

“You see, that’s the problem with Leos.”

He resisted the urge to scream when Steph pulled up behind him, a swagger in her step and a pinch around her eyes that betrayed the smile hidden beneath her mask. This was precisely why he didn’t want to ask for help. This was quickly becoming a ‘family’ affair.

“Stubborn pride always comes back to bite you in the end. That was your horoscope, FYI. Be wary of pride. It keeps you from the goal at the end of a long road. A little on the nose given the situation, but eh.” She slung an arm around his shoulders. “No one said that horoscopes were subtle.”

Jason shoved her off, a growl ripping from his throat. “I gave Signal permission to come into my territory. You two are breaking an agreement.” His hand fell to his gun. “Scram before I start shooting.”

“Tt.”

His eye twitched.

Damian appeared around his other side with his hood drawn low over his eyes, though it failed to hide the general arrogance that permeated the air wherever he went. “First, you do not shoot that ruffian Blood Knuckle all those months ago, now you’re making idle threats against us. You are embarrassing yourself, crime lord.”

Jason had enough self-restraint not to punt a child halfway across Gotham, even if the snot deserved a swift kick in the ass. Instead, he turned his ire on Duke, who was now the odd man out in his street clothes. “What the fuck, Narrows? I told you I didn’t want to ask the others for help.”

Duke choked on a laugh. “Yeah, okay. You thought I could keep this to myself without the others finding out? First off, we’re detectives trained by Batman, world’s greatest detective.”

“Allegedly,” Steph cut in.

“Second, Oracle tracks my patrol routes. She knew something was up the second I crossed into your territory. Have you ever been grilled by her? I’m normally pretty good under pressure, but with her, I folded faster than an umbrella during a hurricane.”

“From there, I looped in Robin,” Babs' voice fed into his ear. Jason should have expected her to listen in. She had tabs on his vitals for Christ’s sake.

“I told Spoiler,” Tim said helpfully.

“And I informed Orphan,” Steph piped up, “She’s on a Bird’s of Prey mission tonight, otherwise she’d be here too. She was sad to miss it, but I promised to give her a play-by-play later.”

“That still doesn’t explain why the demon brat is here?”

“Tt.”

“We’re working on a case together,” Steph said as if it were obvious, “That’s what happens when you work a team, but when Rob told me he was talking to you tonight, I dropped everything to be here. Since I knew the brat would follow me anyway, I clued him in on what was happening.”

Jason chewed the inside of his cheek. “So, does everyone know?”

“Nightwing is out of the country,” Babs offered, the click of her keys accompanying her voice, “No point in telling him until he gets back.”

But she still planned on telling him.

Lovely.

Damian crossed his arms. “It was also agreed on by the others that Batman would not be involved.”

At least there was a silver lining.

He turned to Duke—the only one he wanted to hear from—to pose his next question. “What did—”

Duke raised his hand, effectively cutting him off, and walked back the way he came. “Nuh uh. I did my part. See something, say something, and all that noise. I just came to facilitate this messy family reunion, and now, I’m off the clock. I have a math test to study for and a lot of sleep to catch up on. You’re on your own from here.”

“You can forget about me helping with your college essays.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Duke shot back.

Jason reeled. The gall of this kid. “I mean it.”

“Sure, ya do, man.”

Predictably, Duke called his bluff. Refusing to help him would take more self-respect than Jason realistically had. He buried his helmet in his hand and muttered, “I’ve been bamboozled.”

Steph snorted. “Who says bamboozled unironically?”

“Like it’s hard to pull a fast one over you,” Tim said.

Jason swung. Tim easily dodged the first punch but missed the second fist that connected with his gut. He doubled over, face turning an impressive shade of purple as he swallowed his grunt. It was mollifying to see, but a broken nose would have been infinitely more satisfying.

He leaned down to growl in his ear, “That was for telling her about the letters.”

“Do you feel better now?” he wheezed.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Good.” Tim knocked him off his feet with a quick swipe of his leg. He landed heavily on his shoulder, knocking the wind out of him. “So, do I, and that was just because I wanted to.” He offered his hand to help him up.

Jason knocked it away and grappled to his feet. He gave his shoulder an experimental roll, wincing when it twinged.

“Pathetic,” Damian scoffed, “You could have drawn blood at least.”

Tim shot him a warning look before continuing, “Now that we’ve gotten that out of our system, we can move onto the matter at hand. If you’ll come back to the cave, we can—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable,” Jason echoed, “Reasonable. This is my case. I went to Signal because I wanted to avoid this becoming a Batman issue. That’s exactly what’ll happen if I step foot into that cave. Black Mask isn’t worth it.”

“You enlisted help for Black Mask?” Damian didn’t even try to hide the judgement in his tone.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. At least, I have an archnemesis.”

Steph pulled down her mask to reveal her grimace. “Yeesh. Are you really winning if you consider him your archnemesis? I thought you had a higher standard than that.”

Jason gave her a dead-eyed stare. “Black Mask nearly killed you.”

“Hood,” Babs snapped in his ear, “Uncalled for.”

Her expression shuttered, the usual sunshine and rainbows giving way to something much darker as a sardonic smile slid across her face. Too many teeth and not nearly enough whimsy. It was a jarring change to witness, but at least he knew Steph had her demons like the rest of them.

“Like I said, standards,” she said as she replaced her face mask, “You don’t see me walking around calling him my archnemesis.”

They were getting off track. The sooner he got the information. The sooner he could kick them out of his territory and move on with his life. “No Batcave. No Batman. We can talk in my safehouse if you want to do this somewhere else.”

Tim shrugged. “Fine.”

“Pass,” Damian said as he turned on his heel, “I thought this was going to be more interesting than our usual bickering and dallying. Are you coming, Spoiler?”

“Nah, I wanna see how this pans out.” Some pep returned to her voice as she planted a hand on her hip. “I’ll catch you back at the cave, and we can compare notes.”

“Suit yourself. Let me know if a real fight breaks out between them. Only then will it be worth my time.” He didn’t deign to say goodbye and hurried off into the night, the soles of his boots noiseless against the pavement. Jason was relieved to see him go. There was only so much he could take before he snapped.

“So, are we doing this or not?”

Tim motioned for him to lead the way.

His safehouse was a short walk from the alley, a one-bedroom in what was otherwise a condemned apartment building. In a lot of ways, it reminded him of where he grew up. Cracked plaster revealed the brick beneath. Floorboards that squeaked when he walked on them. Some spots softer than others under his heavy boots.

“Please tell me you don’t live here full-time,” Steph said as she took in the bare walls and scant, cheap furniture. Her gaze snagged on the small succulent decorating the counter, eyes narrowing. “This is depressing, even for you.”

“Again. I didn’t ask for your opinion.” He tugged off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. “Alright. We’re alone. Tell me what you found.”

Tim pulled a tablet from the depths of his cape. Where did he hide it? No clue. Jason decided it was better not to ask questions he didn’t want the answers to. With his eyes glued to the screen, he said, “I think we might be investigating the same case.”

“How do you figure that?”

“We have to turn back the clock a bit before we get to that,” he said as he swiped absently through several tabs on his tablet, “Context first. Over the summer, we discovered a series of break-ins at Wayne-owned warehouses at Gotham harbor. Chemicals were stolen. You caught me reviewing surveillance footage that night.”

It took Jason a second to piece together what he was referring to. Did he mean the night he broke into Wayne Enterprises? That had to be it. He thought it was weird to find Tim there. If he’d pressed a little harder, he might have found a lead sooner.

“What components were stolen?”

“Ones used to make fear toxin.”

Jason blinked. “Scarecrow?”

“Except it wasn’t him. He’s been locked in Arkham since last year, and that hasn’t changed. He’s also not known for employing henchmen, but this wouldn’t be the first time another rogue got their hands on fear toxin without Crane being involved.” He flipped his screen around to show Jason. Two men in nondescript black clothes approached the warehouse before the video went fuzzy. “For all our state-of-the-art technology, they managed to circumvent the cameras, and we found very little at the scene of the crime. I’ll admit, it was a clean job save for this bit of video.”

Huh. Much like Bruce, he saw the world through a fractured lens riddled with imperfections. Using those imperfections, Tim could draw conclusions. It was always about what was broken and how he could fix it. If he was commending them for a job well done, that meant something.

“And how does that connect to my case? The harbor doesn’t fall within my territory last I checked.”

“Maybe not, but the goods were moved several times,” Babs cut in.

The screen progressed as she remoted into his tablet. Green blips appeared on a street view of Jason’s territory. “They stayed to the periphery of your territory, but one veered too close and caught your attention.”

A final blip appeared in red. He recognized it immediately. It was the surveillance mission he botched. Luca had said that was part of a trail of breadcrumbs left by Mask to keep Hood off his trail.

But…

He never got around to checking the goods inside the warehouse. “A warehouse belonging to Mask full of lifted chemicals,” he breathed.

“Chemicals that you left behind,” Tim stressed as if Jason wasn’t feeling bad enough, “Paving the way for Black Mask to do as he pleased with them. Nice work.”

“Oh, cut the guy some slack. He fully intended to blow the place to high hell.” Steph sidled into the kitchen to pick up the succulent, studying it closely. Jason resisted the urge to rip it from her hands. “Why didn’t you blow it to high hell again?”

He didn’t owe them an explanation. “So, what are you saying? That fear toxin is some new wonder drug on the street?” It sounded absurd when he said it out loud. “I don’t believe it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Tim scoffed.

Jason ran his fingers through his hair. “How am I the ridiculous one here?”

“Everyone knows about the harmful side effects of fear toxin in a more concentrated dose,” Tim continued with his usual air of superiority, “But microdosing seems to be the fad. People crave the rush of adrenaline that comes with fear.”

“Sounds like you would know that from experience?”

Tim merely shrugged, neither confirming nor denying the claim.

“I don’t believe you,” Jason reiterated as he snatched the succulent from Steph’s hands, returning it to its rightful place on the counter. Her pout went ignored as he continued, “I’m the drug guy. I would know if—”

His phone started vibrating in his back pocket, nearly giving him a heart attack. It didn’t usually ring. Not unless… He pulled it out, seeing your name on the screen. The corner of his mouth twitched up into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Woah, what the hell was that?”

The smile dropped. “What was what?”

“That thing you just did with your face right now. Was that a smile?” Steph pinched his cheek, scrutinizing his face. “Were you just smiling at your phone? I didn’t know you knew how to do that?”

 Tim pinched the bridge of his nose. “Steph.”

“Excuse me for taking an interest in his life. You should try it some time. Maybe if you do, he’ll stop acting like no one likes him.” She popped onto her toes to look at his phone. He tried to hide it, but he wasn’t fast enough for her discerning gaze. A sharp breath passed through her teeth. “That bitch. She told me she wasn’t seeing you.”

He shooed her away as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Hey?”

“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue like this. Are you in the middle of something?”

You sounded off, your voice brittle as if you were holding back tears. He glanced back at the other two before saying, “No.”

The line crackled with your whimper. “No, you’re busy. I knew it. I’m sorry. I interrupted you, didn’t I? Never mind. It was st—”

“Woah, woah.” He lowered his voice, turning his back on the others. “No need to freak out on me, lovebug. You don’t have to apologize. I can talk. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

It was hard not to jump to the worst-case scenario with an answer like that, but he tried to keep his voice steady. “Do you need me to come get you?”

“Please.”

You could have asked him to walk barefoot over a bed of rusty nails and he would have done so in a heartbeat. Forget the case. Forget Tim and Steph. If you needed him, he’d drop everything to ensure you were alright. Even over the phone, he could tell something was wrong.

“Hold tight.” He shrugged off his leather jacket, “Ten minutes tops.”

He hung up, feeling the weight of judgement on his back. Tim gave him an indecipherable look before turning his attention back to his tablet. Probably stowing this moment away to use against him later. There was no escaping a comment from Steph.

“Lovebug?” she asked, “That’s adorable.”

He flushed. Pet names weren’t really his style, but it came out as if it were the most natural thing. Lovebug, of all things. That would not stick if he could help it.

“Shut up,” he said as he grabbed a hoodie draped over the back of his futon and threw it over his head. “I need to go.”

“We’re not done,” Tim deadpanned.

“I know that. I’ll be back, but I need to—” Fuck it. He didn’t owe them an explanation here either. He unbuckled his holsters and left them on the counter as he passed. “Give me a half hour. We can pick up where we left when I get back.”

But for now, he only had one thing on his mind. You.

***

He arrived outside the opera ten minutes later, an impressive feat given it was usually a twenty-minute drive from his safehouse. You sat on the curb with a young man with shaggy blonde hair that flopped down into his eyes. Jason threw down the kickstand and killed the engine. The blonde looked up as he tugged off his helmet (a completely normal helmet—Jason wasn’t dense enough to ride up in full Red Hood gear), giving him a clearer view of his face.

Jason had to do a double take.

That kid from the warehouse—Evan—was currently sitting on the curb… with you. He wasn’t sure what to make of this situation as he slid off his bike and approached, hiding his initial surprise behind something more neutral.

You hid your face in your arms. The yellow jacket draped over your shoulders. You shivered despite it.

He crouched in front of you. “Hey, lovebug.”

Again, it just kind of slipped out, and it still didn’t feel quite right. Luckily, you were too out of it to notice his bland attempts at affection. He tried again, “What happened?”

Finally, you dragged your gaze toward him. He swallowed his gasp. Your pupils eclipsed your irises, creating an abyss of black that unsettled him. You searched for the words, eyes darting back and forth as if they floated in the air over his head. In the end, you gave up and buried your face in your arms once more.

Evan leaned in and whispered, “Is this Jacob?”

“That’d be me, kid. You staying out of trouble these days?” A dumb question, he realized a second too late, but it had already left his lips. Jacob had never met Evan before tonight, and knew nothing about his rough past, but Red Hood was more invested in his wellbeing. Obviously, something was going right for him if he was here.

With you.

He couldn’t quite get over that.

It was funny how small the world could be.

Evan gave him a once over, taking in the beaten combat boots and the scars on his face. “Are you?”

Touche. Jason let the topic drop. “Do you know what happened?”

“Everything was fine. I was running around in the main dining room while she was working in the executive lounge with the top donors. She mentioned they were a bunch of freaks before the party started. I thought she was pulling my leg until I heard a scream. She ran from the room, and I didn’t see her for ten minutes. I found her in the bathroom on the verge of a panic attack, but she claims she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Did she drink anything?” Jason turned back to you. “Did you drink anything?”

You shook your head.

“Did you eat anything?”

Another shake of your head.

“What about—”

“Enough.” Evan shifted in front of you as if Jason wasn’t at least a head taller and twice as wide. “She’s clearly overwhelmed. Stop grilling her like she’s in an interrogation room.”

Jason withdrew like a scolded child. That was exactly what he was doing, and he failed to temper the shame that burned his cheeks. It was hard not to be in detective mode when faced with a situation like this. While it was possible you’d come down with something, it seemed more complicated than a stomach bug.

“What about you? Are you feeling weird?”

He fidgeted under his discerning gaze. “I’m fine.”

As it stood, you weren’t in any state to be alone. He’d have to take you back to his place. Where Tim and Steph were currently waiting for him. An inevitable cross-section of various aspects of his life stood in front of him, and it made him viscerally ill to consider. Jason couldn’t catch a break, could he?

“Do you feel comfortable going with me?”

“Yeah,” you managed after a second.

That was progress. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded. Evan scooted away, albeit reluctantly, allowing Jason to wrap an arm around your waist. He helped you to your feet and led you over to his motorcycle. Evan followed a few steps behind, distrust for Jason plain on his face.

“Are you taking her back to her place?” he pressed, “Not yours, right?”

Jason didn’t appreciate the insinuation in his tone. Despite an appearance that suggested otherwise, he would never take advantage of you. Evan might not know that, but come on, kid. Jason was clearly worried about you too. “That’s none of your business. Why would she call me if she didn’t feel safe with me?”

“Well, you weren’t the first person she called.”

He nearly tripped over his own feet. Ouch. That was the last thing he needed to hear right now, but he tried not to let the pain show on his face as he grabbed a second helmet from the bag on the back of his bike.

“Evan, I appreciate you looking out for me, but you can leave him alone,” you pleaded, seeming to find your words to rise to his defense, “I trust him and that’s all you need to know.”

“But—”

“Evan, thank you.”

You patted his cheek with a sort of maternal affection. He didn’t shy away from it like he would expect from a broody teenager. Jason felt a pang of sympathy for the kid. From one touch-starved kid to another, he knew all too well how nice it felt to be doted on.

“Really, I appreciate your concern, but not tonight.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his gaze shifting between Jason and the motorcycle. Everything about Jason probably reminded him of the life he wanted to leave behind. It was good the kid found someone like you to encourage him. A good influence.

God knows, it was never going to be him.

Evan shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll send you a text later. Feel better.” With that, he trudged back into the opera house.

Once he disappeared, you placed a hand on his chest and said, “I called Steph first. Didn’t want to bother you.”

Shame hollowed his chest. He shouldn’t have let Evan get in his head like that, but the thought of becoming your second choice terrified him. “You’re never a bother. You don’t need to explain yourself, hon.” Better, but still not quite right. He pressed a quick kiss to your hairline before placing the helmet on your head. “I’m going to take you back to my place. Is that okay?”

“Your place?”

“I have some company at the moment.”

Your eyes widened through the tinted glass.

“The good kind.” Though good was relative in this case. He would have preferred to introduce you to one of his henchmen instead. Most of them were good guys. Well, outside of the drug trafficking part of the gig. “Is that alright? I didn’t want to blindside you.”

“It’s fine,” you said as you shoved your arms through the sleeves of your jacket, “I was the one who interrupted you.”

Jason swallowed his argument, knowing you’d be rehashing the same issue. You weren’t in the right headspace to hear him when he said this wasn’t an inconvenience. He replaced his helmet and activated his comm. “Oracle, I’m on my way back now. Can you let the others know to mask up if they’ve gotten comfortable. I’ll—” He glanced back. Your hands shook as you struggled with your zipper. He held your hands to steady them and helped you guide the pieces together. You managed to zip it yourself once they were fitted together. “I’m bringing a civilian back with me.”

Her beat of silence spoke volumes. “And you think that’s wise?”

“It’s my safehouse. I can bring back whoever I please.”

She sighed. “Alright. I’ll relay the message.”

“Thank you.”

The drive back passed in veritable silence. No wandering hands, though he felt the consistent tremor that you tried to hide by pressing your palms flat against his torso. No coy smiles, no sarcastic quips, just brittle exhales feeding into his ear when he took a side street a scooch too fast. He slowed considerably to avoid scaring you.

It was unnerving to see you like this. Jason didn’t know how to describe it, only that it wasn’t right. When he pulled up outside his place, you slipped off the bike and removed your helmet.

You rubbed your palms together as he dismounted. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think,” you said carefully as you took in the crumbling brick building in front of you, “The fresh air helped. My vision is a little...” You blinked a few times. “Shadows are more pronounced than usual, I guess.”

That failed to ease his conscience, but he would press the issue later, when you were more like yourself. He pressed your hands between his palms. They were colder than a shard of ice. He kissed your fingertips. “I'll wrap this up quickly, but once I’m done, we can talk about what happened tonight. If you want to talk about it, that is.”

You’d shown him grace with his secrets. He could do the same for you. “I don’t expect you to drop everything for me. This was more than enough, so take your time. I can survive now that you’re nearby.”

You had no idea how much that meant to him. Knowing you found his presence comforting made his heart swell. “I’ll get you comfortable first.”

Or as comfortable as you could get in his place.

He led you inside, up three flights of stairs until you reached his one-bedroom. The other two sat at the table, still masked up, much to his relief. Tim sat backwards in his chair with his chin resting on the back, snoozing. Typical. You didn’t balk as Jason ushered you inside. Not like Steph who openly stared after you, her concern evident as you stumbled in the dim light.

Way to be obvious.

Jason waved her off, hoping it conveyed that he had things handled as he led you into his bedroom. For once, he was grateful for his minimalist lifestyle. His bedroom was mostly clean save for a few articles of clothing littering the floor, but at least it didn’t smell. His bed was also made—likely because he’d been sustaining himself on naps at your place over the last few days.

You settled at the foot of the bed, a quick sweep of your gaze all you offered his place. Jason kneeled in front of you. “Do you need water? A blanket?”

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not made of glass. Like I said, I feel better already.”

You looked better, a bit of the color returning to your cheeks. He still had a lot of questions. Ones you might not have the answer to, and the uncertainty sat poorly with him. Unsure of what else to do, he kissed your hairline again. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be with, uh...”

“Robin and Spoiler,” you said, your tone unreadable.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I might have been more concerned to see Batman.”

It was a bland attempt at a joke, but it made him feel slightly better about leaving you alone for a little bit. “Be back in a little bit.” He stood and returned to the kitchen.

Steph rose from her chair. “Is she okay?”

“Unclear,” he admitted as he closed the door firmly behind him, “She’s better than she was when I found her. It’ll pass, whatever it is.” He lowered his voice and added, “She tried calling you first, FYI, but you were here instead, living for the drama. Was it worth it?”

She lowered her gaze, ashamed. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t. You made your choice, and I made mine. She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” Jason kicked Tim’s chair as he passed. “Rise and shine, princess.”

He jolted awake. Drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Wiping it away with the back of his hand, he straightened, “I was awake.”

“Sure, ya were.” Jason leaned casually against the counter with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “So, where were we? Fear toxin on the streets, right? That’s bullshit. I would know if there was a new drug on the market.”

“Only you wouldn’t because it isn’t starting in your territory,” Tim said, almost bored.

“And you would know that how?”

“Because it’s not,” Babs chimed in, this time through the tablet. A pixelated image of the Oracle sprite appeared on the screen, casting a sickly green glow across their faces.

Jason was suddenly in the Lazarus Pit, electric green as far as the eye could see as the pool worked its magic. Fitting his broken bones back together and making him whole again. It was as painful as it sounded. He looked away, shoving the memory away as she continued.

“Instead of starting on the streets and working their way up to more influential circles, it appears Mask decided to start from the top and work his way down.”

“I witnessed it in a real time the other week when I attended a party with Br—” Steph elbowed him sharply in the side and nodded to the closed door that led into Jason’s bedroom. It was unlikely that you were eavesdropping, but he’d been wrong before.

Tim licked his teeth and amended, “Some guests partook. They dip cigarette paper in fear toxin and smoke it with their tobacco or weed. It’s the smoke that doles out a hit. Leave it to the ultra-wealthy to get a kick out of experiencing fear.”

“Ironic,” Jason grunted, “Has anyone informed them that all they need to do is look out their windows to see the horrors of the world? Or is that too rustic for their tastes?”

Steph shuddered. “Rich people are the worst.”

“Not all rich people partake,” Tim mumbled sourly.

“Still rich. Still a pain in my ass.” Jason shoved off the counter. “You heard Oracle. What happens when small-time dealers catch wind of it and start distributing it on the streets. They’ll make dupes or cut it with other shit that makes it more dangerous.” A headache prickled at his temples just thinking about it. That would make a mess of his operation, for sure. “How do we stop that from happening?”

“We find the man behind it. Black Mask.”

“Wow. Fantastic.” He deadpanned. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“But you didn’t have us before now,” Steph said in a tone that was surprisingly earnest, “We can help if you let us.”

Anyone else would have taken the olive branch she extended and moved one, but Jason was too proud to make things easy for himself. “Say I accepted your help. Hypothetically.” Steph and Tim shared a look but let him continue. “What would that entail?”

“A supplier would be a good place to start. There’s enough evidence to suggest that Black Mask is the Puppet Master, but we need to know how this new operation works. The sooner we find the suppliers, the sooner we can cut off the supply,” Babs said, her sprite flickering as if the mouth were moving with her words, “While the paper isn’t as potent as the original recipe, the drug is still a liability if bystanders inhale smoke secondhand. They’ll feel the effects all the same, creating a ripple effect you don’t see in other drugs on the market.”

“What are the effects?”

Tim said, “Paranoia, mild hallucinations, elevated heartrate, the usual schtick you see with fear toxin, just milder. It’s still—”

“Are you saying I was unwittingly dosed with fear toxin tonight?”

You stood in the door that had been closed seconds ago. Jason swore he stopped breathing. You threw an old hoodie over your clothes with the hood drawn. He swallowed thickly, trying not to fixate on the fact you were wearing his clothes and instead on the matter at hand.

“Come again?”

“Tonight. While I was working, Delilah Cadwell—her friend blew smoke in my face. I thought it was a cigarette but those side effects that you described were exactly what I experienced.” You stepped further into the room, undaunted by the masked vigilantes sitting at the table. In fact, you spared them little more than a glance as you went on, “There was fear toxin at the party tonight. It would explain why Delilah was acting weird and why I saw...”

You trailed off.

Jason had no idea what you saw, but he stepped forward to place a steadying hand on your back, captivated audience be damned. “Are you sure?”

“Hand-rolled cigarettes,” you stated soberly, “Delilah loves them, but they smelled off tonight. Like decay. If they’re dipping cigarette paper in toxin and smoking it, then yeah, I’m sure.”

So, you had been eavesdropping.

“You were dosed?” Tim grabbed his tablet. “What else can you tell us? Would you be willing to give us a sample of your bl—”

Jason stepped in front of you. “No one touches her.”

“Jacob, it’s fine.”

Steph and Tim shared a similar reaction, a small pinch to the eyebrows that betrayed their surprise. They missed a couple chapters in your relationship, but Jacob remained a constant since they last saw him with you. He didn’t need their judgement. He judged himself for letting this go on for as long as it had.

“You want a blood sample?” You pushed up your sleeves as you spoke. “If you think it’ll help, but I only got a puff to the face. Will it even register?”

Tim considered your question. “It should, even if your symptoms have passed. Are you encountering any residual side effects we should know about? Shortness of breath? Nerve spasms?”

“A little shaky,” you said, unnervingly calm for someone who just discovered they were drugged, “Shadows are darker.”

Tim nodded as his fingers flew across the screen. “That seems to coincide with the lingering side effects of fear toxin,” he noted absently, “Are you afraid of needles?”

Jason held up a hand before you could answer. “I'm not sticking her like a pin cushion. A blood sample isn’t going to do anything except satiate your little mad scientist brain, so let’s focus on the task at hand—finding a supplier. How do you propose we do that?”

Tim paused, his gaze falling back to you. “I think our connection is right in front of us.”

Steph curbed her surprise. “Robin, that’s reckless, even for you.”

“You work these parties. You’re intimately aware of the comings and goings of this crowd, yet your job allows you to witness the action from the outside. You would recognize something was amiss—if someone was amiss?”

Jason realized what Tim was hinting at. Involve you. He sputtered, “You want her to find the supplier. No. Not happening. She’s a civilian.”

“That’s for her to decide,” he insisted, “It’s not like I’m asking her to apprehend anyone. I think a tracker would suffice. One link inevitably leads to another, all the way up the chain.” He snapped. “And that’s how we find Black Mask.”

“I’m not putting her at risk.”

Tim leveled him with an unwavering stare. “You already have.”

Jason didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, even though he made a valid point. Interacting with you puts you at risk. There was a reason vigilantes kept their identities a secret. The more you knew, the bigger the target on your back. He knew that, and he continued to see you anyway. Trying to keep you from helping now was hypocritical, but he also hated to watch you put yourself in harm’s way for his sake.

“We can stop talking as if I’m not here,” you said flatly, stepping around Jason to speak with Tim directly, “If you’re asking for my help, I accept. A supplier was likely there tonight, right under my nose. It’ll likely happen again, so why not make myself useful if I’m already on the field. I work at an art exhibition next week. If there was toxin at the opera, I bet it’ll also be at the art museum.”

“Fine, but you’re not doing it alone,” Jason conceded, “I’ll find a way to be there too. Undercover, or whatever.” That earned him a round of skeptical looks, even from you. He bristled. “Fine, I’ll go as myself. I can ask my buddy Tim Drake to get me in.”

A muscle in his jaw feathered. “That’ll make things messy.”

“I’m not sitting back and letting her handle something I should have nipped in the bud months ago.”

“I think that’s smart,” Babs piped in from the tablet.

You startled a little at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry to scare you.” Tim turned the tablet around to show Babs’ sprite again. “I’m Oracle. The eyes and ears of our operation. Don’t let them tell you any differently.”

“We would never,” Tim insisted.

“Ditto,” Steph piped in.

She ignored them. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” you said, taking it in stride, “You want Jacob there.”

“Jacob,” Babs said his name sharper than she probably intended. He was never living this down. “Is perfectly capable and well-intentioned. A second set of hands isn’t necessarily a bad thing either. We don’t know who this supplier is or where they’ll be. Having two of you will ensure they don’t slip through our fingers this time.”

“Alright, fine.” you conceded as you took the tablet from Tim. He let you without argument. “What’s the plan?”

He swore the sprite smiled. “Have a seat and I’ll give you a crash course in vigilante.”

You settled in the empty chair beside Steph who had tucked her blonde hair more deliberately under her hood and pulled up her mask until her eyes were the only thing showing.

If you figured out her identity too, he was well and truly cooked. Steph as Spoiler would inevitably lead to you discovering Tim as Robin and so on until you pieced together Bruce Wayne as Batman.

Jason cleared his throat, “Robin, can I talk to you for a second?”

Tim followed him into his room, leaving you and Steph to hash out the details with Oracle. Once the door closed behind them, he began, “If you’re going to bitch about this, save your breath, I have better—”

“I want something in return for this.”

He lifted his chin. “I wasn’t aware I owed you a favor. If anything, you owe me for that one time I helped you get a foundation off the ground to—”

“Do you know how to shut your trap and listen for five seconds?”

“When people deserve it.”

Jason resisted the urge to throttle him. “There’s a showcase at the end of the month at the Gotham Gazette for a writing competition. I need you to make sure Bruce is there.”

Tim’s lips puckered. “Why?”

He averted his gaze. “You know why. Don’t make me say it.”

“Are you sure you want to do that? I can see this blowing up, every pun intended, in your face if she decides to talk Bruce.”

“You think I don’t know that? I know what could happen and how it could all go wrong.” And maybe he wanted it all to go wrong. It would be the push he needed to finally tell you the truth because he was too much of a coward to broach the subject himself.

“But it would mean a lot to her if he was there, even if he isn’t the one who’s... you know. He’s still paying for her technically, so it matters, even if I’m the one she’s writing to.”

“I told you this was stupid.”

He inclined his head. “But?”

Tim sighed. “I’ll make sure Nadine puts it on his calendar.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tim sniffed, “I think you’re making a mistake, but you’re too whipped to realize it.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

But he was in too deep.

-----------------------------

A/N: This is the longest chapter I've written for this fic thus far, but I had a lot of personalities to fit into one space. I missed Tim. Glad I could bring him back.

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[cowgirlcherrie]

georgia canned peaches — ⋆｡°✩ 🐎 cowboy! ellie

pairing: cowboy! hitwoman! ellie x black! fem! reader. wc: 5.0K

synopsis: on the run was Tennessee’s peach, who trades a life of discomfort for security with a Texan stranger

warnings: 18+, MDNI! mommy issues, slight religious trauma if you squint, heavy touching, ellie has an accent, mentions of death and loneliness, heavily inspired by Bones and All ( minus the c*nnibalism and gore), dom! ellie, domestic! ellie, heavy use of petnames (peach, sweetness, sugar, doll), stranger danger lowkk…, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, mentions of weapons, killing, black feminine coded reader, running away, taking care of injuries, injured ellie (so mention of blood, bleeding),

━━━ ♪ peach & georgia by kevin abstract

a/n: heyy everyone!! here's a quick lengthy one-shot for cowboy-ish Ellie! if you enjoy it babis my ask button is open and I'm always accepting requests if you want headcanons, etc, but enjoy!! ⊹˚. ♡⊹˚. ♡

✧˖°.

Mama didn’t raise no bitch! Or a conniving little thief either. 

You tested that theory. Your hands became sticky with anything remotely flashy. Perhaps that was how you found out how to survive on your own. Times like this you wondered where you would be if your mama had just been a perfect Mary Sue. Made dinner, taught you how to wash your clothes and braid your hair, tucked you in at night, and just maybe taught you how to be better than a man. But now you were alone, in the hot Texan heat, and it felt like a smack to the face. Similar to her handprint the night she let you loose and hissed that you are on your own. You didn’t wanna cover the bills anymore or hear her bullcrap about how it was Adam and Eve — not Eve and Eve. You grew tired, and so did your feet that seemed to get you as far as you were now. Perhaps it wasn’t smart to smash your piggy bank taking the $500 dollars you spent bussing tables to go and a messenger duffle that could fit 3 heads. No plan either, which was significantly negligent, but your sticky fingers got you farther than you ever could, and they made sure you were fed. 

That would explain why you were stealing in a gas station grocery. Crouched by the nonperishables stuffing anything and everything into the duffle bag. Georgia peaches, check. Canned pineapple, check. Dried beans and nuts, double-check. You weren’t exactly careful, but the place loomed with unfamiliar faces who certainly were too full of themselves to stop you. So you kept going, a first aid kit for the bruises that were forming on your knees and sewing material to fix the rip in your jacket. Well not your jacket, but your dad's jacket. Brown thick cotton over your shoulders to cover the long dress you were in, it was a smart decision. The jacket kept you warm on the desert nights, and it made home in your hands during the day. The little pockets are perfect for stuffing loads of crap you don’t need. With the crack of another can hitting the floor, it paralleled a shiny brown boot. Drenched in leather and gold detailing as it smacked the tile. Left foot – right foot – left again. Your eyes followed the trail of feet, ignoring the can that rolled away from you as a hand reached down to pick it up. A roughened, bloody, feminine freckled hand. Now the mystery girl was looming over your figure, in an authoritative stance, as if her ego had been bigger than her height itself. But she was also bleeding. Her right arm clenched to her hip as blood seeped between her fingers. 

“Yers’ drop somethin’ peach?” The accent sent a shiver up your spine. It was thick and unfamiliar but maybe the word peach, at the end masked her roughness. You now made eye contact with the girl, green eyes looming into yours as you shakily took the can of peaches.

“M’sorry that was my bad,” you mumbled taking the peaches back and tucking them into your chest. You couldn’t slip it back into your bag now, next thing you know she would yell THIEF! and drag you by your collar to the front counter. But the woman was in such poor shape to do so, her freckled face wincing ever so slightly with every movement her body made. She was a cowgirl, you’ve heard all about them in the papers but didn’t take them for the real deal. Her hat told you all you need to know, brown to match her thick belt and blue bell bottoms. Oh, she was the real deal.

“Could ya be a doll n’ grab me a kit” The woman groaned out, pushing her body weight in front of you. Her standing position contrasted yours that was crouched down, at eye level with the material. “You’s a real catch ya know? Put the peaches back in. I know you were stealin’” This made you freeze. Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! Your brain shouted you were screwed.

Your hands now moved slower reaching for the kit in front of you, and you suddenly realized how overly close the woman was to you. Almost blocking your field of vision from anything to your left. You ignored her statement, as you shakily lifted the first aid kit to her hands. 

“Peach…you are a delight, but now you listen,” The woman didn’t take the kit, “A camera has been pointed at ya for the past 5, and now you got Tina’ at counter watchin’ ya. You are gonna live up to bein’ delightful and pay for this one thing” The woman was scrounging in her pocket and you took the moment of silence to think to yourself, you had barely any money. $500 was something you needed to make stretch.

“What?”

“I don’ take you for a fool, I’m Ellie, and I mean no harm.” Ellie took off her hat placing it over the left side of her chest at her heart, giving you a simple nod before putting the dusted brown hat back on her head. Ellie this time put a stained $10 bill on top of the first aid kit that had been suspended in the air by your hand. This action made you stand up – eye level with this time. Noticed the girl has a height to her, her figure looming over you as you stood.

“Give me the bag [what?] your bag sweetness! we don’t got all day, dammit I’m hurt” Ellie stated bluntly. There was no more time for jokes or stealing any more Georgia canned peaches. There were better things to worry about. Like the fact that you can go to jail for stealing and Ellie who was bleeding out in front of you. You slid your brown bag off your shoulder handing it to Ellie who swung it over her left shoulder. 

“Go see Tina with ‘er blonde hair, act sweet, say your visitin’ family. If they ask, say the Williams Ranch, she’ll give you no hard time” Ellie started as she was giving you instructions, “When ya finish, keep the change, meet me at my car I’ll be outside. You get your bag – I fix my wound, and you get the fuck outta town.” Ellie finished. This time her look was stern, and aggressive as if she was testing you. Testing your loyalty, your honesty, your act. She wanted to see how you worked under pressure, she wanted you to suffocate from fear. All you could do is nod, swallowing harshly, as Ellie turned her body walking down the Isle to your left.

You took the initiative to make your way to ‘Tina’. Ellie was right, the blonde had been suspicious of you. Asked you all the questions that Ellie said she would, but she backed off once you mentioned the Williams Ranch. Handing you the exact change of 0.50 cents and a hospitable smile, saying “Have a great day.” Tina’s defensiveness changed with one simple title. This made you wonder how much authority Ellie had over the place, questions flooding through your brain as you pushed the door and walked out, being met with the setting sun.

The sun was getting low, and there wouldn’t be a motel for another mile out. Sure you could do the walk but you weren’t guaranteed anything. A whistle brought you out of your trance, belonging to Ellie who this time had a toothpick between her cushioned pink lips, as her body leaned against a ran down red car, with muddied wheels. You jogged over this time seeing that your bag was missing from her shoulders rather this time in the passenger seat of her car. 

“Here you go, what you asked.” You pushed the first aid kit into her hands like you’d done back in the store. Ellie mumbled a thank you, as she nibbled on the toothpick. This time, taking the kit and putting it on the hood of the car. 

“Yous’ as quiet as a mouse, but orders ya take well…Peach could you help me patch up, I ensure you a place to stay and food in return – all comfort no lies…” It took you time to think about it. What did people call this…southern hospitality? She was sweet to you despite not really knowing you but the situation was still tit for tat. You do for me, I do for you. Wax on, Wax off. You weren’t gonna say no to a place to crash, where you didn’t have to worry about the faucet being broken or water barely coming out because the bill wasn’t paid. You were certain her bills were paid. 

“Yes, please…uh thank you!” You exclaimed as you began to dig through the box, taking out a bottle of water from your coat pocket, also stolen using it as a hand wash and something to clean the area, temporarily where the wound is. “doncha thank me just yet, you’re just getting started, peach.”

 Ellie was surprisingly still gentle with you, taking her time to crouch into the backseat of the car, while you sat next to her with the kit on the center console. Ellie took her time to untuck the white button-down shirt, as her hands shakily fiddled with the buttons. Due time, her snail speed started to irritate you making you smack her hands away doing it yourself. The exchange was silent, but you preferred it to keep the awkwardness at bay. Ellie shook off her white button down, leaving her in a white tank top — Ellie this time took the initiative to roll the tank top up to right below her boobs allowing you to wince at the large gash on her hip.

“Holy Sh—”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

“Not my first Rodeo” Ellie continued as you poured water on the wound making Ellie grit her teeth. Tilting her head back as whimpers left her mouth at the sudden coldness. All of it was hard to do when you’re in the back of a car trying to patch up a borderline dead woman. But before you could ask any questions, Ellie took the initiative to do it herself. 

“W-Where you headed, whats yer’ story?” Ellie grimaced through the pain as she held her head against the headrest, pants escaping her lips at an alarming rate. “God…I’m sorry,” You hesitated, you couldn’t even answer one simple question, your hands shaking at the blood that was covering your hands as it just wasn’t slowing down.

“Jeez– I hope a lil’ blood don’t scare you peach, I woulda done it myself baby,” Ellie hissed, trying to stay moderately sweet as she was now gripping onto the door handle, her right hand finding its way to your thigh, squeezing for the endless support. That’s when you noticed her tattoo, a death’s-head hawkmoth, and vines. Beautiful, yet chaotic, she had a story. Ellie squeezed again your thigh again making you look back at her. “Eyes up here baby [sorry] where [shit] ya’ from?” You couldn’t lie, the rifle at the back of her car taunting you. If she wanted to kill you she certainly would have done it by now. She wasn’t a threat, and she proved that in the store.

“I’m from Tennessee, I’ve been traveling on foot. I’m runnin’ away” You confessed as Ellie nodded her head in response, Your accent was slight, barely noticeable making more sense in Ellie’s head at why you struck her as different. Your beautiful brown skin glowing under the setting sun, you were a beauty to her. “Figured, how old?” Ellie questioned as you continued to stay frozen, eyes on her face to continue the conversation. “21” Ellie nodded again. 

“Thought so, 22” Ellie responded. There it was again, the tit for tat. 

“You seem like a good girl, far away from home aren’t cha. What’s wrong with yer family? Perhaps your mama?” Ellie tilted her head watching as your face transitioned from bliss and tranquility to fear and panic. She knew she struck a nerve, your mama was the problem. She didn’t wanna pressure you, hell it didn’t matter now. You were on your own, like a scared little lamb that has been deterred from its family. Possibly you were the black sheep, different from the rest. Ellie, once again, didn’t wanna pressure you. 

“You look like you need someone to take care of ya, don’t worry Peach I’ll take care of you” Ellie whispered, her voice all velvety like icing a chocolate cake. Smooth and sweet with care and caress. Ellie was unlike others you’ve met. Or any ex-lover you had. This time you weren’t afraid to let her in or take care of you. Hell you wanted that, you’ve been craving it for all years of your life while you had to do it for others. Maybe it was time someone exchanged the favor. The good karma bell rang in your ears, as a smile tugged at your lips.

“Make sure you cared for, if you let me” Ellie whispered some more, her hands this time traveling to your waist, giving a gentle squeeze, to which you could only hum in response. She was a charmer and knew all the right words to get you sunken in with her. Mama always said to not trust strangers, but why didn’t she feel like one? Her scent was intoxicating all you wanted to do was lean down and sink your pointed fangs into her shoulder, hearing her cry of satisfaction while she continued to call you Peach. Peach…Peach…Peach. You liked that name, no one called you that but considering that's what she handed you when you first spoke, it didn’t run as a surprise. 

Ellie squeezed, “Words, sweetness?”

“Yes” you squeaked, which probably sounded oddly sexual now that you thought about it. Unholy thoughts plague your brain at the sight of the Texas beauty in front of you. Realizing your task still was unfinished you got back to work. Hands working fast as you took your time, threading the suture thread through the needle as it came in contact with the flesh that was Ellie’s loose and separated skin.

Ellie wincing as you dug the needle in, and back out with an exhale. It was a semi-shitty stitching job, but you were able to tightly close the wound and stop the bleeding. Ellie didn’t speak, considering she’d risk completely yelling every curse word and potentially scaring you off, she settled on biting the hem of her tank top instead. Thick black lashes coated with tears at the sudden pain and blood crust. You were gentle though, Ellie caressing your waist as you put down a gauze pad, followed by wrapping it with the gauze roll and securing it with the adhesive tape. Patting to let her know that you were finished. 

“Yer’ such a good girl you know?” Ellie cooed as her hands found their way up to your braids, bringing your head down so she can give a chaste kiss to your head. Right…Right… Southern Hospitality. The feeling almost made you cry. Praise, followed up with affection? Like nothing you have felt before – hell you only thought they did that in movies. Ellie, however, was like a movie. Purley a fever dream, you were scared to fall asleep, what if you imagined the whole thing? You were enjoying your runaway escapades too much for it all to be fake. 

“Let’s get the show on the road,” Ellie gave a smile, making her way out of the back, suggesting that you do the same. So much for not trusting strangers.

✧˖°.

Father, Forgive me for I have sinned… it was blurry 

As we forgive our trespassers…still blurry

Trespassers…clear

You were a trespasser, is what you were getting from Ellie’s narration. Over the 30-minute car ride to her Farmhouse, Ellie explained to you the whole ordeal. Her cowboy hat was on your head as you listened to her tell narration of the cowboys' sealant for the townspeople. Why Tina, at the gas station tried to make you a friend. This Texan desert, farmland was constructed with the passage that cowboys and cowboy decedents protect the townspeople from narcs and trespassers, which in this case you could have been either. Debunked neither. It was one of those towns that people suggest you pass, hell probably inquire why it's still on the fucking map.

Ellie confessed that she was also a trespasser, just like you. Taken in by her late found father Joel who showed her how to run the rodeo. How Millers Ranch, became Williams Ranch. It was impressive, your eyes gleaming with admiration. Then it hit you, why she had the shotgun she did bounties on narcs, drug smugglers, the whole ordeal. People who came in to steal, wreak havoc, and destroy the peace. She was the town's grim reaper. She was the one who knocks. You felt faint, as the realization knocked into you like a brick. Nothing was truly sweet about her, that accent was to mask how with one click she’ll hunt like they were rabbits. You were trapped in her cage.

Upon arriving at her farmhouse which was large enough for more than one, it made you sad to see. She was alone, by herself. No wonder it was easy for her to drag you into her company, human interaction seemed obsolete out here. A dim light shown from what you assumed to be the horse stable, that was rather quiet as the nightfall had put you at ease. You held your jacket to your body tighter at the sudden gust of wind, hearing the weeds brush against each other — almost screaming in the wind. You held tightly onto your bag while Ellie limped past you, with the white button-down rested over one shoulder. Fiddling with the keys in her pocket. 

“Shoes off at the door, watch your step,” Ellie spoke up as she opened the door, you were hit with the sudden aroma, it smelled like fresh wood, pine, and just a hint of freshly baked cookies. It was how you pictured going to visit your grandmothers to be. Warm and welcoming. Complying with her wishes, you took your boots off, leaving you in mix-matched socks with funky designs that you have bought out of quirkiness. Ellie found this amusing. White ones to contrast your colors, the two of you had a lot of differences. But for the lack of similarities came an understanding. A mutual grounding between the two of you. A grey area. Ellie was behind you this time, taking her hat off your head, hooking it onto the wall, your thick jacket as well, and placing it on the hook beneath it. 

“Welcome, home” 

Now that made your stomach curl, you didn’t know what home is, besides yourself and your belongings. Attaching your home to people, not places. It was a wave of worry and fear that hit you. Your feet stuck as it felt like someone took a hammer and nailed your feed to the wooden floors. It was lively and well-decorated for someone that lived alone. Breaking free from your sinking feet you started to observe the living space. There was art, tones of it, stumbling across a photo in the bookcase of a much younger Ellie and an older man with salt and pepper hair who you had presumed to be Joel. The name fit his face well, A small smile creeping up to your face at the closeness of the two. Ellie seemed happy – carefree now that you look at her, that happiness seemed sucked away from her life, she didn’t smile quite like that anymore. Not until you cracked jokes in her car and made her laugh.

“Ya thirsty peach?” Ellie questioned her voice coming out muffled as her figure was far away in the kitchen area, hearing as the refrigerator closed. “I’m good, thank you though.” You put the photo back where you found it, following the trail of her voice. She was very trusting for a stranger, you were already infatuated with the woman, yearning for more. Yearning for her to give you a taste or perhaps a touch. Now you were sitting on her marble countertop, placed there by Ellie as she moved quickly around the kitchen pouring herself a glass of water from the glass pitcher, drowning it all in one go. She wiped the falling water around her mouth with the back of her arm eyeing you in the process, Ellie laughed. You knew her for a short amount of time, but long enough to know that laughter from her was rare – take it as a compliment, you thought. 

Ellie made her way over to you, her hands now on your knees, moving them further apart as she pushed her body in between her legs. Her arms resting on the counter space behind you,  trapping you in her arms.

“Mama didn’t teach you no good...to trust strangers? Oh…Babygirl you’re dangerous” Ellie scolded, laughing as you give the girl a doe-eyed look – your hands finding a  home on her arms. Wrapping your hands around her biceps, as your thumb move up, down, and in a circle. 

“I figured if you were gonna kill me, you already would have done so.” You mumbled as Ellie’s face got a lot closer to yours now. You can see the freckles that decorated her cheeks, her hydrated pink lips from the water she just had, the slit in her eyebrow, and her eyes. The piercing green forest that was her eyes, but it was beautiful, reminded you of the trees that you had seen when you walked. The storm that was your life, before Ellie became your superhero, the knight in shining armor. She saved you, and you owed her big time.

“Bingo! I know you smart peach, and that’s why imma tell you once, listen t’me real good.” Ellie specified, bringing one arm up to grip your chin gently, not allowing you to look anywhere else but herself. Ellie seemed possessive, maybe she lost too many people or her lack of social interaction but she didn’t want to let you go, and you could tell. She needed you just as much as you needed her, a packaged deal.

“You don’ trust nobody that ain’t me.” Ellie began, “Someone’s overly nice to ya’ you tell me. Mean? You fuckin’ tell me. Both don’t fly with me baby, if it ain't from me” Ellie finished, letting go of your jaw to which you nodded. Ellie was a fuckin’ force to be reckoned with, It was like digging into a mystery box, you were unsure of the flavors and layers she had to herself. Hell, she could be manipulating you and you wouldn’t even notice. Hospitality for comfort or comfort for hospitality, it all looked the same.

“Ay Ay, captain!” You playfully military saluted the girl, making Ellie roll her eyes at your statement, you were exceptionally fun. Which Ellie didn’t have anymore...fun. If you classify a night at Typsy Bison as fun then so be it. “You hungry? I can run you a shower before you eat – it’s leftovers if that's alright with yourself?” Ellie questioned and that’s when it hit you, you’ve been traveling afoot all day, and the thought of even having a meal slipped your mind, but you were famished, stomach lightly growling at the mention of the word food.

“I could use food, yeah — as long as there’s no cheese.” You challenge making Ellie back away this time as she took out a glass plate, a fork, and a knife. “No cheese sugar, but something to get you settled – I always have dessert peach if you want that instead?” Now you felt like a kid in a candy store. Dessert was a rarity and boy did it sound delightful right now. Ellie smiled as she watched the way your eyes gleamed at the mention of dessert.

“Got a sweet tooth huh?” Ellie smiled, making you laugh in return. You did have a sweet tooth, anything sweet was enough to bring a smile to your face. That’s why you had a love for canned peaches. The taste reminded you of peach pie that you would get at the diner as you worked a closing shift. Sitting at a booth as you devoured a piece of peach pie, it was heated, like a warm hug in the winter. You cried every time you had a piece. It reminded you of all the good things in life – like how good your mother could be. 

“I hope you have pie” you pleaded, making Ellie nod her head. “You aren’t pressin’ yer luck! I got an apple pie from a good friend of mine, I think you’ll love it – not too sweet, but fillin’” Ellie smirks in satisfaction as she placed one hand on her hip. 

“Let’s run’ya a shower” 

✧˖°.

How were you supposed to explain to Ellie why you were crying? Pajamas that you stored in your bag resting on your body as the matching white tank top and light blue shorts attached to your frame — you just had the best shower you’ve ever had in a while. Not only was the water hot, but it didn’t cut out every five minutes, and the faucet wasn’t leaking, everything was comfortable, perfect. Ellie herself took the time you were in the shower to clean up herself, now in different clothing —  a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants that clung to her body nicely. The two of you sitting at the dining table as Ellie watched you eat the warmed pie, a tear fell from your eye with swiftness. Ellie’s gentle gaze transitioned into confusion and eventually fear as she watched you cry. 

“Oh god, wait!... I’m sorry” you laughed in between sniffles, taking the back of your hand to rub your face.

“Jeez, I thought I did somethin’ sugar” Ellie exaggerated holding her hand over her heart as if someone pierced an arrow through it. Now it was your turn to reveal your story, like how you cried every time you ate pie, specifically with peaches. It made Ellie give a small grin. Feeling as though she did something right in her life where she wasn’t playing god,  It was wholesome that’s for sure. The redhead found it odd, but it was a sweet moment and she understood it. Ellie’s smile fell when she noticed the clock behind your head striking 10:30pm making her frown. The good times she was having at the moment were coming to an end, for both her and yourself. 

“You go’n watch the tv til your tired, I have some business to take care of before tomorrow” Ellie didn’t wanna scare you, her business was taking the grey cloth, as she wiped down her guns and reloaded them for tomorrow. She didn’t want to give you the wrong impression.  

“Can you watch it with me?” You inquired, ignoring the part where she said she had business. 

“I’m cleaning guns.”

“So? You don’t scare me cowgirl” You wiggled your eyebrows as Ellie snatched the empty plate from your hands, placing it in the sink as she let the sponge soap up to wash the plate clean with hot water.

“Fine. I see you jump – I’m goin’ to another room, I don’t mix business with pleasure” Ellie confessed as she was less focused on you this time. You chose this time to leave the dining area, entering the living room as you hit the squared television's 'ON' button. It was small and run down, similar to the one at your moms before you left. You pulled at the antenna to catch a signal. The static glitching before on came Looney Tunes. You enjoyed the show finding amusement in the animals chasing each other and the crescendo of the music at all the right moments, it was comical and amusing. You spread your body out on the couch, laying on your side as you watched the television in silence, laughing every few minutes at something that you found funny. Ellie walked into the room with a black box and 3 guns in her hand. The redhead gently settled down the weaponry, being careful not to startle you, as she slipped into the seat on the far left — your legs now found a home in her lap, Ellie gently sending a rub at your legs. If someone walked right in, they would assume the two of you were probably married for some years now. 

“This okay?” Ellie whispered as you mumbled a “yes” while your focus was still not on her. Ellie could see that you were getting tired, the way your eyes were low, and your breathing slowed down. You were at peace with yourself and with Ellie, this was one of the times when the silence was okay, a mutual serenity, and understanding — everyone was mindful of each other and it was pure love and bliss.

Ellie eyed your figure as your eyes fluttered shut, this time you were sleeping, fully this time letting yourself melt into the softness of the couch as Ellie reached over to her left to grab the blanket and drape it over your sleeping figure. This was also the time she finally got started on cleaning her guns, knowing that you were relaxed and cared for. Ellie wasn’t sure what she was doing, She felt vulnerable and that was rare, but she was doing what she said she would. Taking care of you, like you were taking care of her. You saved her life, and she saved yours, tit for tat.

Ellie in this moment craved nothing more than your lips on hers, perhaps your teeth to graze her flesh, biting…hard into her – wanting to connect and morph bodies. She craved for your love and your intimacy, she wanted you to love her bones and all. Ellie wanted you to love her past, her insecurities, her mistakes, and her wrongs. You were too good for her, she knew it, but there was nothing a sweet peach like you couldn’t fix. 

[jhoneybees]

The Cowboy & The Beekeeper(Chapter 3)

Welcome to chapter 3 :) I'm pretty excited for this one but it is quite a lot so please read at your own risk! Gosh, it's been a while, sorry for not being active😅

Taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @scarlettlight06 @joshuntildawn13 @elvisalltheway101

Characters: 60s!Cowboy!Elvis X Beekeeper!fem!Reader

Warnings/triggers: guns, gunshots, panic attack, people being shot, mentions of Y/n, Elvis' mother getting hurt(imagine Gladys if you want), age regression, slipping into little!space

_____________________________________________

It’s been a few weeks since you insisted on letting Elvis stay and after that moment you had with him in the backyard, seeing those blue eyes and feeling his lips on your skin, you came to the conclusion after thinking for a week that you’ve caught feelings for him. The same with Elvis, spending this time with you made his heart pitter patter, made him think that he’s caught feelings, when you would look at him and whenever your skin might brush along his, Gosh his heart would gasp “She feels so soft…” kicking its feet “She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen…” You’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings.

And it didn't help that you were secretly admiring each other's features when one is talking and a hand grazing along the grass onto one's hand in the backyard.

“No, rising sun can be a rascal sometimes…gotta watch that horse” he chuckles “Same with Rosemary, gosh she can be so naughty!” you answer with a quiet giggle and a shake of the head. Elvis' grin grows “Both got mischievous pets huh?” he questions with a laugh and a quip of an eyebrow, nodding as a response, you laugh. 

Your eyes interlock with his, a comfortable silence fills the air as your chests rise and fall with slow breaths until a sharp, loud, frightening sound breaks through “What was that?” you slip out, Elvis turning his head around with slightly parted lips “Sounded…like a gun-” another rips through the air, making you flinch. Elvis begins getting himself on his feet, slowly walking towards the side of the house. Peeking his head around the corner, his eyes landing on something far away, moving closer and closer as he breathes, cowboys.

_____________________________________________

After getting on his horse to escape his hometown that was on fire, destroyed. He came to a realization that he couldn’t look at it the same way again, especially after seeing from afar, the leader of the  enemy cowboys shoot his mother in her shoulder to get her to move out of the way of the front door to the bank her family ran for generations. Seeing her gasping for air, weakly reaching her hand out to blindly capture one of the men's legs only for them to yank away. 

Running over to kneel down beside his mother, gently pulling her hand into his. Trying his absolute best to comfort her, to someway take the pain of the bullet in her shoulder away but it only earned a weak smile and a soft, quiet, weak last sentence “I love you Booby” That moment his vision turned red and led to actions that many would regret doing but to him, it was what he had to do. Barging in to meet eye contact with his mother’s murderer, clutching his pistol tightly in his grasp, tears brimming.

BANG

_____________________________________________

Elvis looks at you, who's still sitting on the grass “Get in the house” your eyebrows furrow “What’s the matter?” questioning in a soft tone, Elvis making his way over to you, his Adam’s apple bobbing, he lifts you up from under your arms “I-I’ll explain later, just- just go find somewhere to hide” You eyes widen a little with fear, why do I need to hide? You thought to yourself. Elvis guides you inside through the back door and pushes you by the shoulders into the kitchen then to the living area, his eyes darting around the place as he curses under his breath in annoyance. He thought them cowboys would have lost him miles away, biting his bottom lip.

 “Maybe- Maybe the wardrobe in my room will be alright?” you stutter softly with your voice unsure of what's going on, Elvis nods and drags you to your room, opening the door roughly but making sure to not let the handle hit the wall before he opens the wardrobe to let you climb in. Urgently pushing your dress that was hanging over, under your legs and bringing his thumb and index to lift your chin, bending over to meet your eye level “Stay here, Okay? Don’t go anywhere, don’t make noise, just stay put Kay? Be as quiet as mice…I-I’ll come back to ya just gotta deal with something…Alright honey?” raising his eyebrows with his eyes shining with anxiety. You nod frantically, keeping your eyes on his “A-Alright I’ll stay…B-but what’s happening? What’s gonna happen?” Elvis sighs, he doesn’t want to tell you about his situation quite yet “There’ll be a lot of noise, just cover your ears, darling Okay?” you nod again “Mhm..okay” Elvis gives you a small smile, mumbling a “Good girl” pecking your forehead softly before closing the doors. 

The darkness of the wardrobe fills in your vision, your breath inhaling and exhaling loud in your ears. Elvis didn't really answer your question about what's happening but you won't ponder on that for too long and do what he told you to do, covering your ears.

Suddenly some muffled rustling and shuffling noises from outside catch your attention and you lower your chin closer to your chest. Hoping whatever is going on would end soon. You're scared. Just then when you were thinking of what Elvis could possibly be doing, a loud, threatening gunshot went off. Making you flinch and your toes curl, the slightest whimper emitting your lips. 

Then again another one shot through the sound waves, tears begin to pool in your eyes, you’re not used to guns, shaking your head silently, sending your thoughts into a never ending whirlpool in your head.

What if Elvis got hurt? What if he died! Oh no…what if you die? 

Your breathing picking up at rapid speed and your blacked out vision going blurry.

The ringing in your ears, you thought sounded far away suddenly charging towards your eardrums, not hearing your own quiet whimpers and choked up sobs. You don't know what you're gonna do, of course you're going to listen to Elvis and follow his instructions but the sudden urge to burst out of the wardrobe because of the claustrophobic feeling. Not caring for your own good if you get in direct contact with danger, and an urge to go find Elvis. Your mind rocking itself back and forth in the corner of your skull “We have to find him” your heart drumming “MOVE! HE MIGHT BE DEAD, PLEASE-” the world caving into you, heart strings being tied around all over your body as your mind cries out- 

…

The darkness you think would consume you, turn to light, almost like you’re sitting on a cloud…your body feels lighter.

“Honey?” a warm, familiar, concerned, heaved breathy voice echoing in your ears, you let out another of your distraught sobs.

Your body jolts at the sudden touch, you look up and see those eyes that could bring you to tears, your breath caught in your throat finally pushing itself out “E-Elvis…Elvie-” your hands shaking uncontrollably and your legs jelly, reaching your arms out to grab onto his shoulders and as you try to lift yourself to your feet. You instantly fall to the floor, fortunately Elvis quick to wrap an arm under your arm and behind your back and a hand gripping your thigh to break the fall. 

“Woah, woah… easy there, almost hit your head there” Elvis says in a quiet tone, getting on his knees. Rubbing his hands up and down the sides of your upper arms but then suddenly letting out a huff when you launch onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, digging your face in the crook of his neck, the smell of his manly musk almost lulling you into a dream and your legs curling in. You just wanted to feel small. 

“Hun-” his voice softening, then you feel a pair of arms wrap around you, squeezing lightly.

“I-I-I thought I wost’ you…” you mumble earning the soft, gentle embrace to tighten. “Oh honey… I could never let you lose me…could never let myself lose you” more sobs slithering out of your throat as you buried your face even further into his shoulder, you really did think you lost him, you’ve only known him a month but it feels like you’ve known each other for centuries.

A meow interrupts the silence making you lift your head out of his shoulder slightly to see Rosemary walking in with a few leaves and twigs sticking on her fur and her head lowering to sniff the floor quietly with her ears turned down she must’ve been so scared from the commotion. Slowly untangling yourself from Elvis, you call for your feline. Wrapping your arms around her furry body as she nuzzled her cheeks against your chest, making you giggle. 

Elvis’ muscles relieved themselves seeing your smile and he breathed out through his nose with his smile appearing, his eyes trail down to his pistol discarded on the floor, his smile fades when flashes come back to him, feeling the weight of the gun loaded, pressed up against one of the men, seeing their faces filled with slight fear. Eventually putting it back in his holster when they all get back on their horses, running away.

He couldn’t do it to anyone else.

A sharp and long inhale escapes, he shakes the thoughts out of his head “Darling…” his hand reaching out to lift your chin, the sight of your eyes glistening with soon shedding tears and gleaming with an innocence, almost child-like. His heart thumping again when you smile and lean up, craning your neck up to kiss his cheek.

“I love you daddy” you say with confidence that withered quickly, replaced with panic and confusion. Elvis eyebrows knit together, looking down at you “Y/n?”

[lovingmymans]

Victim of Circumstance : An Adam Banks x Fem!Reader story

Chapter One : The Pilot

Pairings : No romantic pairings.

Word Count : 3.4K

Warnings : Explicit Language, hints of Mommy Issues, Inappropriate Nickname, Slight Angst, Sibling shenanigans, Drama

Summary : You played hard, knocked opponents down, and won the hockey game. But coach had news for you and your twin brother, Dean.

A/N : First chapter so excited. It starts of slow since it’s mainly an introduction to some characters and their dynamics. Hope y’all like it, excuse the mistakes if there's some and thanks for reading :)

You hated the person who decided having a game in the morning was a good idea. Now, you are being slapped awake by the bright sunlight shining through the blinds and curtains and your alarm blasting its annoying sound right in your ear.

You groan tiredly and with eyes still closed, you slam your fist on top of the digital clock and turn away from the sunlight. You sigh in relief and slowly go back to sleep.

It doesn’t last long.

“Rise and shine, sleepy head!” Your younger brother, Dean, shouts at the top of his lungs as he opens the door and bangs on it.

Your relaxed expression scrunches up and a scowl forms on your lips. You groan and quickly cover your head and ears with your pillow, desperately hanging onto the last bit of sleep that is slipping through your fingers.

But Dean pulls it from your reach.

He climbs on to your bed and begins jumping. “Get your lazy ass up! It’s game day baby.”

“If you don’t get off my bed, I’m beating your ass.” Your voice comes out muffled through the pillow but it’s loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean laughs and snatches the pillow from you. “Don’t make me laugh. You might be older but I got more muscles. I can take you down in a matter of-”

You jump at him, arm around his shoulders and hand on the back of his head, and tackle him to the floor. The air is knocked out of Dean as he lands on his back and you take the chance to flip him over and twist his arm back just enough for it to sting.

“What the-“ Dean wheezes and side eyes you with wide eyes. “That’s fucking cheating.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.” You smirk and tilt your head enough for him to see it. “Ain’t my fault those muscles are just for show and your dumbass decided to wake me up like that.”

Dean struggles against your hold but the awkward position makes it hard for him to break free without you hurting his arm. “Imma get you. Just you wait.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Don’t make me laugh. ‘Imma get you’, ah. I’m real scared, D.”

You shake your head and let go of his arm. Dean scoffs and pushes you off him before rubbing his shoulder. You chuckle but then your expression softens when you see his expression.

You know you didn’t seriously hurt him but seeing him look hurt makes something inside you burn.

You sigh and pat the hand that lays on his shoulder. “Move it and it’ll be alright, D.”

Dean does what you say, moving his arm in a circular motion and making sure it focuses on the shoulder. When his expression relaxes, you gently smack his arm and begin walking out your room but stop.

A grin forms on your lips and you glance back at Dean still sitting on the floor.

“One more thing.” Dean looks at you with an innocent look and it makes your grin grow. “Get your lazy ass up! It’s game day, baby!”

Dean cusses and stumbles to his feet and you immediately start running. He sprints towards you, trying to get you but you make to the bathroom and close the door on his face while laughing.

Since it’s game day, you just put on a muscle shirt, your leather jacket, a pair of loose fitted pants, and your black boots. You put on some bracelets, joining the one you already had on, and ruffle your hair.

You make your way downstairs, your boots making soft thuds as you do so, when the smell of fresh waffles hits your nostrils and it makes you smile.

You walk to the kitchen and find Mom finishing up breakfast while Dean sits in the kitchen island, eating a plate of waffles with various toppings.

“Took you long enough.” Dean jokes with a mouthful of waffles as he looks at you. “How long does it take you to look like a failed Joan Jett?”

“The same time it takes for you to look like a wanna-be Guns N’ Roses member.” You flick his forehead as you walk past him. He scoffs and continues eating his waffles without another word.

You grab a plate and slowly approach Mom as she sets the last waffles on the big plate in the middle of the kitchen island. You steal glances at her, waiting for her to acknowledge you but she doesn’t.

Like always.

“Morning, Ma.” You mumble as you put waffles on your plate.

It takes her a few seconds to acknowledge you and when she does, you can see the way the light dims in her eyes when they focus on you and the way the corners of her mouth twitch as she forces them to turn upward. Your name comes out forced, almost foreign as she returns the greeting.

It’s the best Mom can give you and for now, it will do.

The corner of your lips twitch upward, showing a small smile for a second before disapearing. No words are exchange as you go take a seat next to Dean. He’d been watching the whole interaction and it’s evident on his face that he feels bad for the both of you but he doesn’t say a word.

It’s silent as you and Dean eat your waffles. A minute later, Dad’s voice fills the air as he shouts for you and Dean.

“We’re in here, Dad.” Dean tells him as you keep eating.

Dad walks into the kitchen a second later wearing a suit a size bigger, but it looks good, and hair that looks like he’s been running his hands through it. When he sees you and Dean, his shoulders slump.

“What’s up with the long face, Dad?” You smirk at your lame joke.

“Do you know what time it is?”

You and Dean share a glance and shrug.

”It's time you two get in the car cause we got…” Dad checks his watch and his expression drops. “Shit, if we don’t leave now, your coach is gonna get on my ass.”

You and Dean both cuss. You take one last bite out of your waffle and drink some orange juice while Dean stuffs his last one in his mouth and gulps it down with some orange juice that spills all over him and the floor.

“Really, Honey?” Mom looks at Dad with disbelief. “Language.”

Dad’s face scrunches up in apology and he quickly gives her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry honey but we really got to leave.” He then looks at you and Dean and snaps his fingers. “Come on, let’s go.”

“We’re going.” You pull Dean by the back of his shirt and both of you run to get your hockey bags and meet Dad in the car.

”Come on, Dad.” You smack the dashboard. “We’re gonna be late.”

Dad shakes his head and smiles as he pulls out of the driveway. “Oh, now you want to rush.”

You and Dean are the last ones to arrive to the locker room but you don’t care and get into gear.

Your jacket comes off first then the bracelets except for the one that has a silver chain. You leave your muscle shirt on and change into the compressed pants you keep in your bag then put the gear on.

Lastly, before putting on your helmet, you tie a white bandana around your head to keep your hair out of your face since that shag haircut you have doesn’t do well with braids. It matches Dean’s black one he uses to keep his curl hair out of his face.

The team soon gets on the ice for practice and the coach has everyone do drills and scrimmages. At the end, coach goes over some plays before letting everyone rest before the game.

You sit in the corner of the locker room with eyes closed and humming one of your favorite songs as you block out the team’s voices as they talk and joke around. The only voice you acknowledge is Dean’s as he loudly hypes the team up.

“Alright, everyone.” The team’s coach announces as he walks into the locker room and everyone quiets down. “Time to go out.”

One by one everyone walks out of the locker room with you being the last one behind Dean. The noise from the arena grows louder and louder the closer you get until it’s all you hear as you enter the ice.

The team starts practicing on one side of the rink while the opposing team is on the other side. You’re practicing shooting and get one in when you hear the familiar voice of Dad’s. You glance towards the audience and instantly find him and Mom.

Dad cheers and shakes the sign he holds with your name and number while Mom has one with Dean’s.

You smile underneath your helmet and casually wave at them. Dean notices and skates next to you and yells at your parents with a wide grin.

You shake your head and scan the rest of the audience. It’s not a big crowd but it’s enough to fill half of the stands on both sides of the small arena. Then, your focus lands on the middle of the stands where a man sits, looking at you and Dean.

You pat Dean’s side as you keep your eyes on the man. “Moe’s here.”

“Lester?” Dean looks to where you’re facing and he frowns. “This the third game he been to. You think it has something to do with Coach?”

“What makes you say that?”

“I saw Lester talking with him. About what? Don’t know.”

“Really?” Dean nods and you look puzzled. “Whatta you think he wants?

Dean looks done with you. “I just said, I don’ know, Dumbass.”

“I was just asking, Smartass.” You scoff and glare at him.

The game starts and the coach puts you and Dean on as defensemen. The team’s center gets the puck and passes to the left wing. They do one of coach’s plays and manage to score the first goal.

The opposing team soon gets the puck and begins coming towards your side. You immediately get into defense as the puck holder skates towards you and you see the perfect chance to get low and throw him over you.

The crowd cheers and Dean shouts your name with glee as you quickly get the puck and skate forward as fast as you can. Dean shoves the players coming after you and gets you an opening to shoot.

You don’t though and instead pass it to Dean who shoots the puck hard and makes it in. The team cheers for him and congratulate him as you stand just a few feet from them.

When they skate off and Dean looks at you, you smirk and skate up to him and punch him in the chest. “Fuck yeah, D! Nice shot!”

“And you with that takedown. That’s what I’m talking about, baby!” Dean yells and you both smack each other’s hands one, two, three times.

The game continues, you and Dean continue being the best enforcers the two of you are. You both throw players over you, shoving them against the walls of the rink and past their weak defense and scoring when you two see the chance. The crowd goes wild and it only fuels you.

The last buzzer rings and the game ends with a score of eight to two. The team celebrates the win as they head back to the locker room, Dean being the loudest as he congratulates everyone with a hard punch.

You get the worst of it. His hand is hard and heavy when he strikes your shoulder and the force has you stumbling. You can feel the print his fist left even with the gear that’s supposed to protect you.

Dean laughs at you and you can see his ego growing at the fact. So you do what you had to to keep it in check. Dean’s too busy laughing to notice your arm swinging back until it’s too late and it connects with his side.

You reach the locker room and pay no mind to to the team as they continue celebrating. You go to your corner and take the gear off, keeping the bandana on, and change into your clothes.

Dean is still celebrating by the time you’re all changed. You scoff with a smirk as you look at him before getting your walkman and putting on a mixtap of your favorite rock songs.

You bop your head to the beat and grab some change you keep in your bag and head out to the hallway where a vending machine is at. You get your favorite snack and start munching on it as you head back to your corner.

Three songs later and snack all gone, Dean finally changes into his clothes and walks out the locker room with one of his teammates, chatting about something.

You follow behind them, nodding your head to the song blasting through the headphones and playing with the empty wrapper from the snack.

The teammate soon leaves and it’s only you and Dean left in the empty hallway. You press the stop bottom on your walkman and lay your headphones around your neck as you nod at Dean when he looks at you.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” He jokes as you two begin walking to the front of the building.

“You took your sweet ass time, that's for sure.” A frown forms on your lips as you throw the empty wrapper at him and catch it when it bounces back. “I don’t know why you take long. Not like you don’t see them everyday.”

“You’re just a hater cause I got friends and you don’t.” You roll your eyes at his comment and it makes him laugh. “We were chilling and having fun after winning. You could’ve been too-”

“You and I both know that ain’t happening.” You say as your expressions turns sour. “They’re your friends, not mine. Not to mention, they don’t even like me.”

“That’s ‘cause they don’t know you. If they did-”

“No.”

“Come on, JJ. You can’t go on life without having any friends.”

“Watch me.” You smirk and shrug. “And it’s not like I got no friends. I got you.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t count. I’m your brother.”

“And my friend.”

“J, I’m being serious.” He stops you and looks at you. “You need some friends. You can’t keep this whole ‘unbothered cool’ act forever. Sooner or later you’re gonna have to let someone in.”

Dean digs his finger on you chest, making sure you know what he’s talking about. You don’t know if that bothers you most or the fact you don’t like the topic.

You scoff and smack Dean’s hand away as a scowl forms on your lips. “And what if last time repeats? What then?”

“It’s not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“‘Cause you’re not the same person you were!”

“D-“

“It won’t happened again, JJ.”

“You’re damn right it’s not gonna happen! I’m not gonna let it happened so fucking drop it Dean!” You snap.

You feel your index finger twitching and you curl your hand into a fist as you look away from Dean. You take a deep breath and wipe your nose as you sniffle.

You know Dean means well. He was just trying to help you and make you feel better. But the topic was just too much of a sensitive spot for you.

“M sorry, Dean. I shouldn’t-”

“Me too. I shouldn’t have either.” He says as he avoids looking at you but you know he means it. “We should meet up Mom and Dad before they start thinking something happen to us.”

He walks ahead and you watch for a few seconds before sighing and following after him.

You two meet up with your parents outside the building and Dean grins at the sight of them cheering for the both of you.

“There’s my winner.” Mom says as she begins pinching Dean’s cheeks.

“Mom, really? Here.” Dean groans but doesn’t try to pull away.

“Oh, hush up and come here” She smiles and stands on her toes to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It’s a funny sight, especially when Dean bends his knees enough to be the same height as her.

A bittersweet smile forms on your lips as you watch them. Mom went straight for Dean and didn’t even glance at you. You’re happy for him but it hurts seeing her give everything to him and not a drop to you.

But you know why Mom is the way she is. You don’t blame her and it doesn’t make you love her any less. You just wish she’d forgive you and be your mom again because it hurts having a mom but not receive any love from her.

You’re brought of your thoughts at the feel of someone ruffling your hair and you know it’s Dad before you see him. There’s a grin on his face that reaches his eyes and makes them look closed when you look at him.

“You did good out there. Can even say better than the last game.”

You chuckle. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Hey, Dad?” Dean speaks up as Mom lets him go. “Can we go to the buffet to celebrate?”

“Buffet sounds good.”

The four of you start heading to the parking lot but then you hear the team’s coach calling for you and Dean. Your family stops and looks at the coach as he jogs towards you. You glance at Dean confused and he returns it.

“What’s up, Coach. Did we leave something or what?” Dean looks at him confused.

“Nothing like that. I got news for you two.” The coach smiles at you and Dean.

You arch an eyebrow. “What kind of news?”

“Only the good kind.”

“And what is the good kind?” Dad asks, slightly annoyed at how cryptic the coach is being.

“How about we go to my office?” The coach suggests and you four follow him.

When you enter the office, there’s a man there already. He wears a navy blue suit with a tie that matches and looks about in his late thirties, maybe forties, with short curly hair that’s already turning grey. He smiles and is almost vibrating with excitement when he sees you and Dean.

You narrow your eyes at him, not liking what you are seeing but then get a feeling like you’ve seen him before. Then it clicks. “Moe?”

“Lester?” Dean says at the same time, recognizing the man as well.

All the adults freeze and look at the two of you speechless.. The men are stunned except for Dad who seem to be the only one amused. Mom, however, looks horrified and embarrassed.

She says your name and Dean’s with a stern tone and gives the both of you a disapproving look.

Dean is quick to point an accusing finger at you. “It was JJ’s idea to call him that.”

You’re unbothered by it. “This man suddenly shows up to our games, alone and focuses only on us.” You scowl as you side eye him. “One can only assume.”

The man clears his throat and tries to force back the smile. “I can assure you I’m not what you’re… assuming.”

You scoff but before you can say anything, Dad gives you a look to not respond. So you just roll your eyes and glare at the man.

Mom is the one to break the tension with a smile meant for him. “So what is your name, sir?”

It eases the man’s nerves and he smiles and offers Mom his hand which has your nose scrunching up. “I’m Don Tibbles, Senior V.P., Hendrix Apparel.”

“Like the hockey company?” Dean questions.

“Yes. Exactly.”

You cross your arms and tilt your head. “So why are you here, Mr.Tibbles?”

“Portman,” the coach calls you out with a warning tone but it doesn’t faze you. His tone goes back to normal as he continues. “I’ve told Mr.Tibbles about you and Dean and how you two are the best players and enforcers in Chicago.”

Dean grins and nudges your side, mouthing ‘the best’ with a cocky expression. You smirk and mouth back ‘bet your ass, we are’ as you return the nudge. You both chuckle as Dad starts to question the coach.

“Why does a Hockey Apparel company need to know that?” Dad looks at him with furrowed brows.

“The good news I was referring to was that the twins have been offered an opportunity of a lifetime and it’s thanks to Mr.Tibbles-”

“And Hendrix Hockey Apparel.” Mr.Tibbles adds.

You match Dad’s confusion and suspicion at what the coach and Mr.Tibbles are talking about. Dean and Mom, on the other hand, are more interested and excited about it.

Dad’s eyebrows pinch together but there’s a glint in his eyes. “What kind of opportunity?”

The coach glances at Mr.Tibbles and motions for him to be the one to tell you four. Mr.Tibbles grins and vibrates with excitement once more.

“The twins have been chosen to join the U.S.A. Team in the Junior Goodwill Games.”

“What?”

[kadentherabbit]

Hi guys!!!! Soo this is my master list, it will be updated as I write more fanfics in the future, I currently write for ahs/evan peters characters, DC characters and possibly Donnie Darko in the near future! Make a request to be on my tag list!

A little more about me I suppose: gay and trans! Please only refer to me with he/him pronouns. I enjoy gory movies or movies with Evan Peter’s in them :3. You can refer to me as Kaden! I love writing, one of my favorite hobbies but it takes me a while to have any motivation so keep that in mind!

Most of my fics will be about men, and in a gender neutral fashion unless I’m requested specifically male reader or female reader! Keep reading for more!!

My CAI.

My JAI.

I will not write fics that include:

Any bodily fluids that aren’t spit, cum or blood (Strict limits).

Age gaps that include one party being under the age of 18 and another party being over the age of 18. (Aka any sort of pedophilia)

Fics that involve childbirth/pregnancy (may change in future).

Incest or stepcest. Platonic family relationships only.

Threesomes or any smut that includes more than 2 people (may change in future)

Smut for any female or AFAB character.

I hate writing angst.

Characters I currently feel comfortable writing for! ⬇️

Peter Maximoff, Tate Langdon, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Most DC villains, Carl Gallagher, Kai Anderson (May be ooc), Ponyboy Curtis, Two-Bit Mathews, Adam Banks, Kyle Spencer, Wilbur Robinson, Lewis/Cornelius Robinson, Johnny Lawrence, Kevin Khatchandorian.

Characters I need more time with ⬇️

Kit Walker, James Patrick March, Jimmy Darling, Lip Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, Donnie Darko, Luke Cooper, Colin Zabel, Stan Bowes, Guy Germaine, Daniel LaRusso.

(you may suggest these characters! I may just need a little more time to write the fic!)

smut = 𝜗𝜚. fluff =✿. Being worked on = ꩜.

AHS

Tate Langdon NSFW Alphabet 𝜗𝜚

Your fear is my pleasure - Kai Anderson 𝜗𝜚

The only friend you’ll ever need - Tate Langdon 𝜗𝜚 (req)

Kai Anderson fic 𝜗𝜚/꩜ (req)

X-MEN

Peter Maximoff NSFW Alphabet 𝜗𝜚 (req kinda)

Stuffed like a Twinkie - Peter Maximoff 𝜗𝜚/✿ (req)

Mean Dom Peter Maximoff 𝜗𝜚

Peter Maximoff and Reader getting high ✿ (req)

DC

Dick Grayson/Nightwing Blabz ✿

Arkham Knight! Jason Todd Blabz ✿ (Fem! Robin reader!)

OTHERS

Ryan Gosling! Ken Blabz ✿

Rodrick Heffley Blabz ✿

Jack Hughes Blabz ✿/𝜗𝜚

Five Hargreeves Blabz ✿

Cobra Kai! Johnny Lawrence blabs ꩜

[whyareyouhere66]

Thinking about….

Various! Boyfriend x fem-coded reader

Cw: not really anything. Chubby reader friendly- in fact I sort of imagined it that way. Was thinking about shinsou while I wrote it (and it’s probably obvious). Fluff, modern, 2nd person pov. 

x

Thinking about laying in bed with him one particularly lazy evening, cuddling and watching reels together on your phone. You’re both cozy and tucked against each other’s bodies, his chest to your back, arm hooked lazily over your waist, a few pillows supporting your head while he rests his chin on your shoulder. 

As you scroll mindlessly, he watches from his perch next to your head and laughs at some of the funny videos, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt softly. And then, you come across one of those “pick an outfit videos”. 

There’s a few dresses photoshopped onto the screen, below them are corresponding accessories, shoes, bags, each with a symbol/letter/number to mark each one. 

You stare at it for a second, in your mind skimming over each of the options to see which you like best. You aren’t really sure though…

The low rumble of a hum comes from your boyfriend’s throat next to you, grabbing your attention.

“D.”

You pause, glancing over at him.

“Huh?”

“D.” He repeats himself, nodding towards the screen. You blush a little as you connect the dots, looking back at the dress he chose. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. ‘S pretty, good color.”

You give a small hum of acknowledgment as you process his words- cheeks a little warm at the sentiment. You weren’t expecting him to give his own answer- but since he did, you can’t say you didn’t find it endearing, the little moment attractive. 

Before you can scroll again, he speaks once more.

“Do another one.”

Your lips curl upwards a little, almost a bit flushed. You didn’t think this would be something he would care about- but nonetheless, you swipe onto the creator’s profile, met with several more videos in the exact same format. Clicking on a random one, you tilt your screen so he can see better. 

He leans in, eyes scanning the screen as he puts an odd amount of thought into it, a certain something soft glimmering in his eyes. As he thinks, you feel his hand slowly caressing your stomach, a warm palm smoothing over your skin gently, affectionately. As if he’s mapping out exactly how the dresses would fit on you, envisioning it in his mind. It’s not an unusual touch, but it could still give you butterflies any day, any where.

“Mmmm. B. With those shoes.” He uses his chin to gesture to the ones he means,  the pair with the “&” symbol right above them. 

“Y’think?” You ask, glancing at the dress and continuing to flush a little at the image of wearing it- at the thought of him imagining it on your figure. 

He nods. “Mhm. I like that color on you,” he tucks his head further into the bend of your shoulder, “…and the fit of it looks nice.” 

You start to smile a little bit, stomach all fuzzy as he speaks. The simple act of being known- of him having a favorite color on you (one of your favorite colors, to say the least), his hands gently running down your stomach and hip, warm cheek pressed close to your neck, makes you feel all warm inside. Beneath the blanket, your free hand rests on top of his forearm that’s slung over your waist.

“Thanks” you mumble softly, smiling at your phone screen as he simply nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Mhmmm…” he mumbles again- and you can feel his small smile against your skin. 

.

.

P.s:

Whenever you’re watching reels together after that, and those kinds of videos pop up, he again gives his own opinion- thinking over each option and answering with a small quirk of his lips. And you love it almost every time. 

.

.

Characters:  Eijirou Kirishima / HITOSHI SHINSOU / Shoto Todoroki / Denki Kaminari / THEODORE NOTT / Mattheo Riddle / Steve Randle / Dean Portman / Adam Banks / CHARLIE CONWAY / Daichi Sawamura / Keji Akaashi /  more?

[up for interpretation, aka some characters also vaguely match the scenario, but would have their own little behaviors added/emphasized in this type of scene that were not included, but can be imagined.]

[cowgurrrl]

Marrow

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic!ellie williams x fem!reader)

Author’s note: thanks for being patient!! I made a new graphic for the in-between parts of When You’re Lost in the Darkness/Look for the Light because I wanted to 😌 (PS this is somewhat of rewrite/reimagining of my first fic Everything Leads to You so if there are some similarities, iTS FINE)

Summary: “This was always going to happen. She’s been dead since the beginning.” - Oresteia as translated by Robert Icke aka the beginning of the journey

Warnings: discussions of Tess, reference to Adam, Joel being stubborn, talking to Ellie about mortality, references to a sexual relationship, the horrors of being seen by someone who could break your heart

"Stay here," you say to Ellie after a full ten minutes of waiting. He didn't even say where he was going. He just left without another word and expects you to be there by the time he returns, which is annoying in its own right.

"What? Where are you going?" Ellie asks before you can even take two steps in the direction he left. 

"To find Joel."

"He said to stay here."

"Joel says a lot of things." You roll your eyes. She didn't try arguing with Joel when he left, but here she is, holding you up. She better hope he's just down there fucking around and not in trouble. 

"What am I supposed to do if someone finds me?"

"No one's gonna find us out here."

"But what if they do?" She asks, and you can recognize the anxiety in her voice. She's a lot like Joel, you've noticed. Fierce and short-tempered but with lots of uncertainty brewing just underneath. You soften just enough to crouch in front of her and open your hand.

"You still got your knife?" You ask, and she nods. "Can I show you something?" She hesitates before pulling the knife out of her jacket pocket and placing it in your hand. You see why she likes it so much. It's a good size, sleek, and perfectly balanced. You open the blade and hold the handle firmly. "If they get close enough, jab at soft parts. Eyes, stomach, throat. It might not kill them immediately, but it'll distract them enough for you to run away and get our attention." 

"Same for Infected?"

"Same for Infected," you say. "Runners are just sick people. They have almost all the same weak points."

"Is it hard to kill them when you know they were people once?" She asks, and your mind immediately goes to that Shell station from all those years ago. Against your will, you remember his groans and the look in his eyes as he pushed you away from the last time. You clear your throat and close the blade to hand it back to her. 

"Not when they come after you first," you say. She eyes you carefully like she doesn't believe you, but you stand before she can see right through you. "Stay here. We'll be right back." She doesn't move from her spot as you walk away, but you catch her changing her grip on her knife to copy the way you held it. 

You find Joel on the river bank you and Tess passed more times than you could ever count. The water is clear and running without a care in the world. It would be peaceful if you weren't strategizing on how to have this conversation with Joel. It's necessary, but if you know him (which you do), you know it'll result in a fight. You decide to approach him gently with empty hands and a soft, if not a little pained, smile. He glances in your direction but doesn't acknowledge you as he reaches into the cold water and pulls a smooth rock from the bottom. He adds it to the stack right next to him and stares at it like it's something more sentimental than just a cairn. Maybe it is. He wouldn't tell you if it was. Not now. Not when Tess hasn't even been dead for twenty-four hours. Finally, he stands and turns to look at you.

"How's your hand?" You ask, breaking the unbearable silence between you. He looks between you and his stained, cracked knuckles and shrugs.

"Fine." He says, his voice deep and rough. You step closer to get a better look at his hand and fight the urge to reach for it to press around for the fracture you're positive is swelling under his skin. 

"You don't have to be a hero about it. I can wrap it."

"I said 'm fine," he snaps. You nod and take a step back. You know, from years of diffusing Joel's anger, this is a delicate dance. "Where's Ellie?"

"Right where you left her. I came down here 'cause I wanted to make sure you were alive." 

"You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to," you say. The levity in your voice startles him into looking you in the eyes for the first time since you left the destroyed capitol building. The brown of his eyes feels especially heavy and sad, but you don't flinch. You rarely do with him. "Plus, I wanted to see if we could talk."

"Bout what?" He says like nothing in the past few days has been catastrophic enough to require a conversation. 

"About what you think Bill and Frank are gonna do." 

"Take her to the Fireflies or get someone else to do it."

"And if they say no?"

"They won't."

"How do you know?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes. "Frank's sick, Joel. Really, really sick. He can't just get in a car and take this girl to the Fireflies, and Bill's not gonna leave him."

"How do you know?" He accuses.

"Because I actually talk to them on the radio," you say. "From what he's told me, it sounds like Parkinson's or something. I don't know. I'm not a doctor." 

"Exactly," he agrees with enough tension in his voice to poke at the fiery anger in your belly. "Frank's fine. They'll set him up in the truck and drive her there." 

"What about Raiders? Or Slavers? Or what happens if they run out of gas and can't find more? Frank can't just walk her to Wyoming." 

"Bill'll figure it out." 

"If Tess were that sick-"

"Don't. Don't even start with that." He cuts you off, and you sigh. 

"Is this really how we're gonna do this? Just not talk to each other about anything? Keep our heads in the sand until it's too late?" You ask. "Keep lying to ourselves that everything's normal?"

"You were just fine doin' that not even a week ago." He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows at you. You know exactly what he's referring to. It's a tangle of limbs and whispers of so fuckin' pretty, 's like you were made for me, just like that, but you remember. Of fucking course, you remember every time he made you his and left the marks to prove it. Of course, you remember looking at him the next day like absolutely nothing happened, like he didn't fall to his knees in front of you like you were some long-forgotten deity. You and Joel are not people who do long-term relationships, especially not with each other. Still, his comment feels like a jab at the way you got dressed and left not even ten minutes after he came. 

"A week ago, we didn't have a fourteen-year-old to keep alive," you say. He sucks his teeth and looks down at his boots; clearly not a fan of your redirecting. "We're already going west. We might as well just finish this out and get her to the Fireflies. I'll even let you knock a few around if you really want to." 

"'S that supposed to be some kinda incentive?" 

"If finding your brother and doing what Tess asked us to do isn't enough, then yeah," he tenses when you say her name. It hurts to know she's gone. It hurts even more to know she sacrificed herself so you three would have a chance. You'll be damned if you let her death mean nothing. "And if we get to Bill and Frank's, and they won't take her, and you still don't want to do this, I'll take her myself."

"Not a chance." He counters before you can finish your sentence. You fight a smirk, knowing you've got him right where you want him, and he sighs heavily. You know he would never let you do this by yourself. He also knows he can't leave you to go back to yet another empty apartment and wait for him to come back alive or never hear from him again. For all your fighting, secrets, and unspoken agreements, you think there's no one else in this world you know better than Joel. You hope he thinks the same about you. 

"We get to Bill and Frank's, and then we make a decision, but we gotta agree somehow. Fair?" He relents, and you nod. 

"Fair." 

"Anythin' else we need to talk bout?" He asks, looking at you expectantly. Yes, you think. We need to talk about what made you beat the FEDRA soldier to death. We need to talk about Tess. We need to talk about how far we're willing to go to get to Tommy and drop this kid off. We need to talk like real people and not the shells we've been. 

"No," you say. "Nothing else."

"Good," he nods and walks past you, his shoulder brushing yours as he does. "Let's get moving."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @moonandseatgr-yngf @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @korynnekorynne @anavatazes (please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list/if I missed you!!)

[edgessunflower]

Masterlist 50

[paperrretro]

charm.

Pairing: Adam Banks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,882 words

Warnings: Mild swearing

Request: Can you do a request for Adam Banks x reader? He tries to propose to the reader a few times but gets interrupted and then he finally finds a way where they don’t and he asks the hockey team to help him out with proposal and it is just fluff and cute and then the reader tells him that she is pregnant?

[A/N: seeing some of the og ducks in game changers made my heart warm. so proud they still got the duck spirit after all these years :’) banksy’s in his senior year of pre-law in this fic !

“You have good taste, Banksy,” Connie insists, exasperated. “She’ll love it. Don’t worry.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Adam persists, already doubting his purchase. He opens the box and stares down at the lustrous silver ring nestled inside. “I feel like it was too easy.”

The way his dad talked about it, buying an engagement ring should practically be an Olympic sport. The older Banks had spent four months looking for the perfect ring when he wanted to propose to Adam’s mom. He’d even traveled to a different state.

Adam spent three weeks looking and didn’t have to go farther than Minneapolis.

He sighs. Of course, your preferences are a lot different from his mom’s – it’s almost funny to think about you wearing a huge, diamond-encrusted gold ring on your finger – and he did spend a decent amount of money just now. But still –

“I don’t think I spent enough for it.”

The look Connie gives him could probably wither a plant.

“It’s more than enough, Banksy. Believe me.” When Adam opens his mouth to contend, the woman starts ushering him out of the jewelry store. “Look, we’ve both known [Y/n] since forever and we know what she likes. If you don’t trust your own judgement, don’t you at least trust mine?”

“Well, yeah –”

“It’s the perfect ring. And I’m not just saying that,” Connie says. “So let’s go. I have a date with Guy tonight, and I need to get ready.”

Adam looks at her as she raises her eyebrows. Then, with another, more amused sigh, he pockets the dainty box and heads toward his car.

“You’re getting really good at arguing, Connie.”

“I was always good at it,” she replies sweetly. “I’m pre-law for a reason, Banksy.”

Adam rolls his eyes and chuckles.

—

The two of you have been talking about marriage for the past year. To be totally honest, Adam had been thinking about it for much longer that that – ever since he finally started dating you near the end of high school, in fact (you’d never let him live that down if you knew) – but now that you’re both about to finish undergrad, the idea has become less out there and more right here.

“Not to be traditional or anything, but I wouldn’t mind if you were the one to propose,” you had told him one evening, fingers running through his hair. “I’d say yes.”

“Right now?” he’d asked.

You laughed and ruffled his locks. “Yeah, actually.”

That had been the green light. After talking to Charlie and Connie, Adam had resolved to propose to you during winter break. It wouldn’t be too close to the beginning of the semester, nor would it be overshadowed by graduation, and he would already have his law school applications submitted by then. Just right. The proposal would be perfect.

Unfortunately, Adam Banks had drastically overestimated his luck.

—

Attempt One starts out exactly as planned.

It’s a clear Thursday evening, cold in that particular way that you and Adam like, and he takes you out for dinner at one of the higher-end restaurants in Edina. Admittedly, both of you would’ve preferred something a little less snobbish; however, Adam had wanted you and himself to be nicely dressed when he proposed, and this was the only reasonable cover he could think of.

In any case, you look beautiful. But you always do.

“Maybe we should dine and ditch,” you joke over a plate of overpriced salad, keeping your voice low just in case a waiter is nearby. “What do you say, Banksy?”

“As fun as that would be, I’ll have to pass.” He grins at you over the drinks. The box burns a hole in his pocket underneath the table. “Lawyers probably shouldn’t break any laws.”

“Pre-law. You still have some time.”

You wink at him, taking a sip of water. Adam rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh.

The meal is good – worth the price, thank god, though the company is better. You’re in good spirits by the time he pays the bill and leaves the restaurant with you, coats zipped up over your nice clothes and shoulders pressed close as you walk back to the car. The radio is turned on low while he drives to the park where you often have dates.

“What’re we doing here?” you ask as he parks.

Adam taps his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. “Just thought it’d be nice.”

“You want to kiss me under the streetlight, Banksy?”

“If you want me to.”

You just smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, opening the passenger door and getting out.

This is it. Adam feels for the ring box and takes a deep breath, taking the key out of the ignition and unbuckling his own seatbelt. Under the streetlight. He hurriedly smooths his hair back.

The passenger door suddenly opens again and he nearly has a heart attack.

“—kidding me,” you’re saying. Eyes wide, Adam watches as you settle back into your seat and gesture stiffly with your free hand. “Geez, you know you can’t drive after dark during the winter. Did you – fine, okay. I’ll be there soon. Just stay in the car.”

“What happened?” he questions, hopes already falling as you hang up.

"Dani got stranded on the way home. I have to pick her up.” You sigh deeply, looking over at him. “Sorry, I just – I’m so sorry, Adam. If you could just drop me off back at my place …”

The spark in your eyes from before has faded, replaced with something wearier as you pocket your phone. Adam chews the inside of his cheek at your guilty expression. Then he puts the key back into the ignition.

“Where’d she get stuck? I can drive,” he says.

The look that washes across your face as you tell him is enough for now. He has time.

—

Attempt Two occurs on a Saturday night, and it’s snowing just a little bit.

You had been feeling sick this morning but got better well before the evening. Everything and everybody seem to be in the right place at the right time, so Adam and you set out to the same park where your date had been cut off the week before.

“Come on.”

He skates backwards on the pond, smooth and instinctual, as he calls your name. You finish lacing up your skates and regard him with mock offense.

“Good things come to those who wait, Banksy.”

He skates over and takes your free hand. “And that good thing is you?”

You step onto the pond. “Bingo.”

The pair of you skate around for almost two hours, quickly, slowly, everything in between. The winter air resonates with the sounds of your laughter and his. Adam finds it hard to tear his eyes from you for even a second.

Whenever he and you go skating, he’s transported back in time to when he had first met you – curious and suspicious, just two kids caught up in the drama of peewee hockey, living for the game with not much else on your minds. Oh, it was a disaster. You didn’t get along right away. But with every practice session on the rink, every Ducks game and every misadventure, you and Adam learned more and more about each other; a friendship bloomed there on the ice, and eventually, something more.

And after years of that feeling, the two of you finally realized what it was.

The only sound left is the silky hiss of blades cutting across the ice.

Adam exhales a cloud of breath as the two of you slowly come to a stop, rehearsing the words in his mind. “Are you ready to go? It’s getting pretty late,” he says.

“Well, I guess we should head back before we freeze our asses off.” Your eyes squint impishly above the edge of your scarf.

Always the comedian. Adam chuckles as the two of you leave the center of the pond.

He goes through the motions carefully, hyperaware of your movements. Slow stop. Skates off, boots on. A quick grin as you start crunching through the snow. Hoping that he isn’t being conspicuous, Adam leads you back towards the car but stops at the bench underneath the big tree you always used to climb.

You tilt your head when his hand leaves the small of your back. “Banksy? What’s going on?” you ask.

Discreetly reaching for the pocket where the ring is held, Adam takes in a breath and smiles at you.

“Thanks for going out with me tonight.”

You give him an amused look. “Of course.”

“Seriously. I”—he swallows silently and laughs a little—“being with you is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me –”

CRACK

Adam’s next words escape in a wheeze as you lunge forward and shove him back. The heavy pile of snow from the tree branch that had given way, so precarious a few moments before and now caught in the lower branches, falls straight onto the two of you soon after.

“Sorry …”

“It’s fine …” His back hurts.

Snow is melting on his face, and it burns. He wipes it away and sits up, shaking the fluffy powder from his coat with a chilled sigh.

“Are you okay?” you inquire, offering your hand.

He takes it and stands up with a grimace. “Yeah.” He looks at you. “You got snow everywhere. We should get inside the car.”

You frown slightly. “Are you sure? ‘Cause it seemed like you were going to say something important –”

“Just wanted to say I love you.” Adam manages a smile, brushing the snow off your shoulder. He pats his pocket and relaxes when he still feels the box. “Come on, I don’t want you to get any colder. I’m kinda cold, too.”

You regard him carefully. Then you pull your scarf down and peck his cheek.

“I love you too,” you say, soft.

The two of you hurry back to the car to warm up.

—

Attempt Three requires reinforcements. Seven, to be more specific.

“So, to summarize,” Charlie says, tapping the living room table firmly. “First, dinner. Then the holiday lights thing. Then back to your place, with all of us waiting behind some corner to take pictures. Sound good?”

Adam nods. He should’ve asked for help the first time – what was a proposal between two Ducks without backup from the rest of them? “Thanks for helping me out, guys.”

“Third time’s the charm,” Averman quips with a grin, arm slung over the couch. Connie and Guy nod next to him.

Fulton leans back in the La-Z-Boy, feet dangling over the footrest. “Man.” He sighs. “Still can’t believe you guys are getting married.”

“I can,” says Goldberg.

Jesse scoffs. “I saw it coming from a mile away. Cake Eater was whipped the minute she kicked his ass at the Goodwill Games.”

Everyone laughs. Adam grins, blushing slightly. That had certainly been a practice to remember – one that left him properly sore (and in awe) after taking the brunt of one of your famous checks. You had winked at him before skating away.

(Perhaps that had been the start of it all.)

By Wednesday evening, Adam is ready. He combs his hair, shaves, layers up for the cold, and hides the ring box behind a picture frame in the living room library. After a quick call to Dani to check if you’re ready (he’d figured that the best way to keep her out of trouble was to let her in on the scheme), he hops into his car and heads to your place to pick you up.

The two of you get dinner at one of the hole-in-the-wall restaurants in Minneapolis. It had been a favorite stop for the Ducks over the years, so the owners are familiar and friendly, delighted to see you and Adam on a date – very delighted, apparently, since the waiter also drops off a free dessert at the end. Adam cheats a little on his diet and shares a bite of chocolate cake with you.

Phase One: Success.

At the next stop – the holiday lights – you offer your arm to Adam and the two of you walk through the park. Each display gets a rating out of ten, and he gets someone to take a picture of the two of you underneath a glittering tree, grins wide and matching. It’s pretty cold, but the two of you are used to it. He kisses you at the end of the walk and your lips almost stick together.

Phase Two: Success.

Now for the final phase.

While planning out this whole thing with Charlie and the others, Adam had called and asked if you were okay with having a get-together with some of the Ducks after the date. Since his dad and mom had been in Hawaii since the beginning of December, the Banks residence was open for a night of relative rowdiness. You had unsurprisingly agreed.

After a quick text to Charlie to confirm that everything’s ready, the two of you head to the house.

“First time in a while that a bunch of us will all be together,” you comment as you walk into the house, shedding your coat. “Whoa – hey, you left the fireplace on.”

Crap. One of them must’ve turned it on. “Oh, I did? Good thing the house didn’t burn down.”

“Your parents would have a heart attack.”

Adam hums as you wander into the kitchen, probably to get a snack. He heads to the living room and retrieves the ring box, slipping it into his back pocket.

Bzz.

What now? He flips his phone open and squints at the new message.

Charlie: Remember – angle towards the hallway so I can get a good pic. Good luck man

Good luck. Adam takes in a deep breath and calls your name.

“Yeah?” you say. It sounds like you’re eating something.

“Come over here. I have to show you something.”

Your head pops out from the entrance to the kitchen, blinking curiously as you wipe the corner of your mouth with your thumb. Beckoning you to him and then keeping his hands firmly in his pockets, Adam moves surreptitiously to the middle of the living room rug as you join him.

You tuck your hands behind your back and look at him with gleaming eyes. “What is it, Banksy?” you inquire.

“I love you.” His words are heartfelt.

“I love you too.” So are yours.

The warm, nervous, wonderful feeling is starting to bubble up from his stomach to his chest. Forcing down the lump in his throat, Adam cracks a smile.

“I know,” he murmurs. “So … this has been a long time coming, and hopefully I get it right this time. I love you. A lot. And we’ve been together for a while – I mean, not as long as Connie and Guy, but – ha,”—god, he’s getting choked up—“I just … I wanted to show you just how much you mean to me. Right here.”

The gleam in your eyes is quickly becoming shinier, though your grin is wider than ever. Adam pulls the box out of his pocket and hastily gets down on one knee.

“Will you marry me?”

You tackle him into a hug with a tearful laugh, “yes, yes, yes” muttered against his skin as you bury your face in his neck. He drops the box in the chaos, fumbling to return your embrace and kissing you fiercely.

“WHOO! WAY TO GO, BANKSY AND [Y/N]!”

Just like that, Charlie, Fulton, Connie, Guy, Jesse, Averman, and Goldberg tumble into the living room, charging the two of you like a pack of wolves. You yelp, quickly buried in Ducks and full of hysterical glee. Charlie holds a camera high in the air as he shouts.

“Got it! This one’s for the books,” he tells the two of you, showing you the moment right before you tackled Adam. “Giving Connie and Guy a run for their money, I see.”

“We could have a double wedding,” says Connie teasingly. She hugs you and then Adam.

“On an ice rink. Green and yellow for the colors,” you add.

“Classy. I happen to have just the suit,” Averman says, and the three of you laugh.

When the adrenaline dies down and all the hugs have been exchanged, Adam feels you tap his arm and lean in.

“I have something to tell you too,” you say, still somewhat breathless.

He smiles down at you, cheeks flushed. “What?”

You hold his gaze for a few moments, then glance down at your hand, which is placed gently over your belly. His heart skips in his chest. Adam looks at you with wide eyes, and you nod.

“I’m pregnant.”

It’s like getting hit by a truck. He stares, speechless.

Then in a slightly strangled voice, Adam asks, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice, “You are?”

You pull him into a hug and laugh a bit. “Yep. And I’m keeping it.”

The clamor rises again as Adam presses his lips to yours once more. Charlie’s camera flashes. When the two of you pull away, he joins the hug, then Connie, then everyone else.

It is warm. So, so warm. And Adam feels like the luckiest man alive.

[http-prettycupid]

Sweetness

Alejandro Vargas x fem/reader(18+)

COD/MW2

[Slight breeding kink,]

Your back is straight, your legs are crossed, your smile so sweet under your circumstances it looks sick. Encased in a metal confine, surrounded by men who can kill you in a few seconds, you’d have to play in their game. So you continue your streams of enigmatic answers to their interrogation.

“Valeria’s right.”

Your objective in this whole missile mishap, mission, or whatever the hell people would call it is simple. Everyone just seems to think other wise. Money talks and you keep the conversation going. It just so happens that your morals revolves around dollar bills, in pesos, pounds, or any forms so long as you can cash it in the bank.

“ That’s it. Hmph! You’re working for her? Over her? With her? Cual es?”

Alejandro who’s growing tired of your answers, breaks in a huff of frustration. He grew sick of Valeria’s taunt and now he has to deal with a new face that’s somehow less mouthy but much more vexing. Although his growing curiosity about who this vixen is maybe the real cause of his pent up anger.

“Guapo, if you want me to keep talking you’d have to pay me.”

You literally have to bite back a laugh at how the brunette you heard the men call, Alejandro turn slightly pink at the nickname. He honestly could not begin to comprehend why the way you called him handsome made him so flustered.

Flirting to safety wasn’t the first plan but if that’s what it takes, you know now how to begin. You couldn’t fully speak Spanish but even if you don’t speak at all you’d still have his eyes on you.

“How about this. Since this is most important to you…I’ll tell you first.”

That sickly smile now completely focus on Alejandro as the rest of the men seem to uncomfortably shift in their stance while waiting for you to continue.

“I’ll even discount my answers, if everybody else scrams.”

A chuckle slips through your lips as they somehow actually begin to consider your terms with quick glances at each other. Then letting out a huff, Graves orders everyone out of the metal container leaving only you and Alejandro.

Oh how easy it is for you to bust out of here.

They actually left. Although they may be outside, they left you alone with no restrains, unarmed but gifting a delicious man fully equipped.

You don’t know how to put your finger on it but every since meeting him on the roof of the cartel lieutenant’s mansion, Alejandro made you want to tease him. Getting captured with Valeria wasn’t part of the plan but staying that long in the Mediterranean home wasn’t either. Who could predict in the midst of your side hustle a whole ass swat team would ransack the place.

They’ve probably also figured out that you don’t have much loyalty towards Valeria and work for someone else completely, seeing how much authority you had in a house full of cartels. Even the mafia don’t treat their guests like royalty but they most definitely wanted your blessing. Now it was their job to decipher why and why not also ask about the missiles since you seem to know plenty.

And that’s what led you here, under interrogation in a metal container. Although with your skills you could walk away free, you’d be a little disappointed having to end your fun here.

“Well-”

“Ah! My price first.”

Pressing your index finger on Alejandro’s lips seemed to startled him just a tad. But that might be him not realizing how close you were to him.

“I’d have to see about transferring you pesos-,”once again the man is hushed by your finger. He’d be so entertaining to break, you’d just have to get closer. With his rifle out of the way…

“Aww, sweetling. I never said you’d have to pay me money,” taking a chance you stepped closer. Your front now pressed against the gun, you look up to study his face. His eyes are heavy, pupils blown, kissable lips slightly parted as he took a sharp intake of air. Oh and the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he gulped down his nerves. You knew he’s guard is on the edge of a drop.

Ugh! Who knew a man could look so appetizing that your the one feeling like there’s a 70ft drop before you. Come on! This is no time to be a pussy.

“Uhm…no?” Gosh the way his accent soaks into the smallest words that he lets out soaks your panties. Your starting to question if you’d break first.

“No. Do you want to know what my price is, Alejandro?” You keep your voice as light as your right hand when it reached his gun and sweeps it seamlessly out of the way. Fuck! Why are you getting so nerved.

Finally standing on your tippy toes you move to his left ear, leaving light breathes that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. As smoothly as it went your right hand delicately traces its way from his chest, shoulders and then to gingerly rub the stubble along his jaw and upper neck.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t hear the heart beat bashing on your chest.

Come Y/N! Swallow those timid valor! You never had them before today.

With your mouth tracing his earlobe you continue the teasing. “Alejandro…fuck-please touch me.”

Aight, it’s up.

You knew the butterflies in your stomach at the start should’ve been a sign to take caution. Flirting your way to safety would’ve been easy if you weren’t getting wet feeling the hardness pressing on your stomach.

Your statement should’ve been confident and alluring but it escaped you sounding way too desperate with the airy whimper.

On top of that the soft grunt he made when you pressed your front harder on his cock had you rolling your eyes. Fucking hell! There’s no way a man can have this much affect on you!

“Ah-fuck. Alejandro, I want you to touch me. Mmhp…wanna feel you inside me, fuck your cum into me. Oh god, please. I’ll tell you anything. Just please, please fuck me-

You couldn’t even finish before he lost his senses, dropping the gun and dug his big hands into your waist. Sliding his gloved palms downwards, the brunette then lifted you into that solid body of his and rushed to press your back on the metal wall.

Your hands weaving into his hair as his mouth went to work on your neck. His chest pressed so tightly against yours that your breathe heaved even more and oh did those heavy pants and small whimpers egged him on.

The self-assured and flirtatious vixen now starting to melt in his palms and she looked so enticing all the while. Her cropped black tank top strap had fell off her shoulder, leaving more room for him to kiss and gnaw at. Her also black spandex they had left her in after ridding her cargo pants full of weapons and ammo was not doing a good job covering her neediness. Taking a quick glance he could already see her leaving wet patches on the front of his jacket. The sight alone made a moan slip out of him. If that wasn’t enough his hardness was aching in his pants, begging to be relieved.

“La hostia! Muñeca-my cremalle-mi zipper princesa”, even with his rushed sentence you understood. Hands leaving his hair, you reached his belt buckle. Then with some shuffling it came loose with sufficient room for you to unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, pulling it down just enough to also bring his boxers with it.

His tip immediately bumped your lower ass before you started to take him in your palms. With steady strokes, feeling the veins along his length, his girth that your fingers and thumb barley touched, you knew he was just a size too big. His pre-cum ran down to your palms making you instinctively lick your lips and pant. This might sting but you can already feel your girl pulse and drool for him.

“Alejandro,” with a whine you unhook your legs form his waist. Your feet meeting the ground again before you began stripping for a man you met just a few hours ago. And he absolutely ate up the sight before him.

Left in only your panties, damp skin kissed by the hot sun of Las Almas. The man wanted to ask what did he do for The Lord to bless him with you? Or perhaps it was the Devil that sent you to him. You just looked so heavenly and sinful. Hair now loose from the braid it was in, the stray strands framed your beguiling face. He had a thought you might’ve just been playing his heart strings to get your way but your doe eyes and pouty lips that are begging him to continue throw those thoughts away. He wanted to know about your stories, what made you came to Las Almas. Beyond the stories of missiles and the cartel, why you’d put yourself in such danger. But that would have wait for another time.

Alejandro rushed to hike you back up, this time roughly pressing his hot lips to your pillowy ones. Heavy breathing bounced off the container’s walls as the two bodies take in as much air as they could while devouring in each other’s rousing scents, electrifying touch and the thrilling environment they were currently in.

This was supposed to be an interrogation…

You flirted often, yes. But you definitely weren’t the most experienced with intimacy and with the pace Alejandro’s tongue moved into your mouth, you knew the footing on your plan had completely crumbled away.

He pressed his body harder on yours, gripping his right hand on your hip, taking in as much of you he could. Your small mewls that left your lips. Along with the strings of sounds, the smell of vanilla blended with coconut and some florals. It’s like the man couldn’t pick up on the musky scent of sex as his left hand made its way to your panties.

“Mierda. You’ve runined your panties Muñeca,”

You moaned in his mouth as he reconnected your lips. Pushing your panties to the side before he rather impatiently inserted his middle and index fingers, as if to test your readiness for his cock. With a gravely grunt Alejandro began working in your pussy that was now making a mess all over his digits. He reluctantly paused his ravaging in your mouth once more to look at his work below.

“ Fuck Muñeca! Your pussy’s already in love with my fingers. Imagine how much she’ll love my cock stuffing her full, hm.”

All you could do was mewl and curse into his shoulders as he stuffed your throbbing womanhood. This smug man then begin to laugh at your current state.

“Que pasa, Muñeca? What happened to that assertive vixen telling my men to scram so she can bargain for her safety?”

It was now your turn to blush. You couldn’t for your life begin to think anymore. His scent was intoxicating you, hints of cleanly soap, gun powder and musk was enough to make you lose your mind. What else? His voice and accent. God have mercy you could cum with just his talks alone. AND don’t even get started on his long fingers working in and out, now pairing with his thumb on your clit.

You can feel a certain knot tying itself in your stomach, the twisting feeling caused your body to tremble and your eyes to brim with tears. The increase in volume and movement was a dead giveaway that you were close. Even so, Alejandro removed his hand from you core, cutting off the high that had been peaking thus far.

“N-no, please. Please, Alejandro.” Fuck. Your watery eyes with those lips that he made red and swollen caused his cock to drip. Such a pathetic plea and face along with a moan of his name.

“Aw, I know guapa. I just wanted to give that needy pussy of yours something bigger.”

With a taunting pout, Alejandro then gripped your sides before a hand left to guide his cock to your messy hole. He then let your body slowly slid down his length.

“Mierda! Your so tight. And what a fucking mess your making of my pants, princesa,” he couldn’t help his strangled moans as you took him in so willingly with the most welcoming clench on his manhood.

“Alejan-fuck! Too much.” You whine with hazy eyes as tears fell from the sting as well as the delight of him bullying his way inside.

Alejandro the tease only chuckled at your words, “your doing so well princesa, taking in my cock. Come on, you can take all of it.” He sang praises as he continue to slowly sink into you, kissing away the tears that had fallen on your flushed cheeks.

When he finally bottomed out he pulled back up to the tip before refilling your sloppy pussy and setting steady pace. Your volume now becoming alarmingly loud so as to prevent his team from hearing, his lips were back on yours.

Of course if the team hadn’t heard your voice already they probably hear the wet squelches as Alejandro’s cock picked up the pace. Feeling you flutter around him and hearing your increase in volume he began slamming so hard you couldn’t help but drip down his balls and to the floor.

Legs wrapped tightly around his waist, armed draped over his shoulders while he worked you up and down his manhood. You dissolved into putty in his arms, only able to babble incoherent words into his mouth. Saliva was slipping from the edges as he continued his assault in your hot cavern. Every audible cry you began to muster with your lips parted and connecting to his with a string of wetness would dissipate as he ate them up.

Ya, as if the team could hear…

The team catching on to Alejandro’s ‘special interrogation’ was the last thing he cared to pounder about anyways.

“Mmm, princesa. Your pussy’s a real fucking treat.”

And his cock is making you drunk.

“After this I’m never letting you leave.”

And you didn’t want to.

“You gonna let my breed your pussy, hm? Cum deep inside your filthy hole?”

“Fuck Yes! Please, please! Give your cum please.”

Alejandro’s pretty done keeping your voice down. Besides, he may as well give his men a treat hearing your pretty cries for his cum and cock that they would never indulge in themselves.

“Cum on me then, Muñeca.”

Just like a magic command, the build up in your core since Alejandro’s fingers fucked your pussy snapped.

Your high came crashing down in tremors and sniffling sobs. So out of breathe you barely finish chanting his name, whiteness covering your vision you’d think you were going to heaven. And what’s an even better feeling then this high heaven? His cum pumping into you as he groaned and thrusts it in deeper. More moans pass through you as Alejandro couldn’t help but grind his seeds into your hot mess, now leaking with his cum.

“Ugh, mierda. Your going to get me in trouble guapa.” With a soft laugh Alejandro peeked at the mess you two made below before his gaze carried back to your fucked-out face. God, just your face alone was making his length stir again.

BANG BANG!!

“Fucking hell! There better good intel after you guys clean up whatever mess y’all made in there!”

Ghost’s voice could be heard from behind the container door as strings of snickers followed. Keeping his gaze on your heavy lids that were now blown wide from the sudden startle, Alejandro knew he’d have to continue this later.

“Ya, ya.”

Yup. You weren’t leaving even if you spill your whole life story to the Spanish man.

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part twelve

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

joel finally gets his head out of his ass, with a little push from tess.

a/n: we have BIG CONVERSATIONS IN THIS HOUSE FAM. i want to reiterate: i love the canon joel x tess. i live for it. but the drama/angst/emotion it has allowed me to create but backpedaling them SLIGHTLY? delish. enjoy babes, please scream at me about the ending 😇

word count: 5.5k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, drinking, lots of emotions, mentions of canon-typical violence and injuries, mentions of death, joel is both an asshole and an Emotional Man, tess and liv are true bffs and god bless last night’s episode for solidifying some of my plans 🤍

✨I do not have a taglist - follow @friskito-library for updates on future chapters/works✨

“You need to talk to her.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, Joel, you—”

“Don’t tell me what I need to fuckin’ do, Tess. Leave it be.”

“Joel—”

“Please.”

+

You’ve been staying at Deanna’s. Two weeks now, since your stint in lockup, since Angie had beat the literal shit out of you. The couch isn’t comfy, and your ribs are still sore, but it’s fine. 

The kids are happy to have you around. Emily especially, once she got past the bruises on your face. You weren’t expecting Henry’s reaction; when you woke up in Deanna’s apartment the next morning, he was sitting vigil beside you, tears on his face, bottom lip jutting out. You told him you fell down the stairs, trying to get a laugh out of him, and he’d just hugged you, buried his face in your chest.

You try to keep things normal, whatever the fuck that means anymore. You take on extra jobs, trying to earn more ration cards for the three living in your apartment. Tess shadows you, follows you around every day, and you tell her your secrets, point out your routes, the soldiers you have dirt on, the ones you know not to fuck with.

“She’s the one that beat you?” she asks one day, jutting her chin towards Angie. You’re standing in the warehouse that serves as the food bank, waiting in line. You’ve had a heartbeat in the bruise on your cheek since you woke up, and standing ten feet from the woman who gave it to you isn’t exactly helping. 

You disguise your nod as a stretch, wincing at the pull on your ribs. Deanna was sure you hadn’t broken any, but you sure as hell were bruised. They didn’t look as bad as your cheek, but the pain was deeper, and seemed intent to linger longer. “Yeah, that’s her.”

Tess sneers in her direction, and you have to stifle your laugh. “Fucking bitch.”

You like Tess. You really like her. She’s a hard ass, but rightfully so, given the history. She hasn’t given you much more of her past, and you’re definitely not about to offer up any of yours, but the friendship between you is quick. You’ve skirted the Joel subject so far, despite the fact that they’re literally sleeping in your bed. Most of your conversations have been about the QZ, the inner workings, your smuggling. You have a job coming up, and Tess has already said she’s coming with you.

“I doubt Joel will be thrilled about that.”

“Joel can fucking shove it.”

She hasn’t been shy about her displeasure towards him, but it hasn’t done much to change things between you. You went down to grab some clothes a few days back, and he’d been the only one inside. Tess was out exploring, and Tommy had gone with her.

He didn’t say a goddamned word.

You’d managed to hold back the tears until you were back in the hallway, but you sobbed so hard you thought you actually were going to crack a rib. And on the other side of the door, you heard the radio flick on, assumedly to drown out your noise.

You nearly put your boot through the wall.

You move up a few places in line, and reach into your pocket, pulling out the ration cards you’ve collected. It’s worked out okay; you had some stashed to begin with and you were able to pull a few jobs after you got back on your feet. But Tess is adamant they’ll pay you back, despite your protests.

“First job I take,” she says to you, jutting her chin towards the stack in your hand, “you get half.”

You shake your head. “I told you, it’s fine.“

“It’s not,” she replies, her tone determined. “It’s the least we can do, after what you did for us. Hell, I should give you back double for putting up with the bullshit Joel’s been throwing at you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she repeats, and grabs your arm, turning you towards her slightly. “I’m not fucking okay with this. I need you to get that. He needs to talk to you. You need to talk to him.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Tess,” you say, toying with a corner of a ration card. “I have to respect that.”

“And he should give you the same courtesy,” she says as you move up again. “You need to talk this out. He can’t keep putting up brick fucking walls; you deserve more respect than that. You put your ass on the line for us, and got the shit kicked out of you. History or not, he owes you. I’ll lock you two in the same room if I have to.”

“Hah,” you scoff, lifting your brows. “I’m sure he’d love that.” 

She goes quiet as you reach the front of the line, handing over the cards. The woman working the table slides a crate of food across to you a second later, along with two jugs of water that Tess reaches for. It’s not until you’re back outside that she speaks again.

“I want us to be friends,” she says, and the tone in her voice makes you pause, stopping in your tracks. “I like you, Liv; you’re strong as hell. Brave. Best damn smuggler I’ve ever seen. I just…I need you to understand, me and Joel, it’s nothing close to what I had with Nate, or what he had with you. I know that. I get that. We laid out ground rules from square one. It’s a…” She trails off, searching for the right word.

“A comfort,” you provide.

She nods. “Yes. And I…if I had a second chance with Nate? If I walked down this street tomorrow and saw him walking through that fucking gate, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to—” She stops, clamps her hand over her mouth and you almost jump when you see the tears in her eyes.

“Tess.” She blinks hard, waving a hand at you, and in an instant, the badass demeanour has returned, if not doubly so. You continue, “If he’s a comfort to you, I can’t be the person that takes that away. He’s not mine to take. Especially not if he doesn’t want me back. It’s okay. You can’t force his hand in this.”

She eyes you, chewing at her thumbnail before, “Maybe I can.”

You shake your head, hefting the crate of food higher on your hip. “Let’s take this back.”

+

The doorknob jiggles, and Joel’s head snaps up. He’s sat on your couch, some book about woodworking in his hands, a mostly abandoned glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. Tommy’s at the kitchen table, bent over a map, trying to figure out the path they’d taken, all the way back to Austin. “I’m just curious,” he’d said when Joel had asked, his voice almost clipped. Joel hadn’t pushed any further.

The door swings open, revealing you and Tess, a crate of food on your hip, Tess carrying jugs of water. Joel gets to his feet, wanders towards the kitchen, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Tommy gets up immediately, takes one of the jugs from Tess. She starts putting stuff away, and you step closer to the table, digging in the pocket of your coat. “Exciting news,” you say, pulling out a key ring with three keys on it, dropping it onto the table. “Moving day.”

“We’re not going far, are we?” Tess asks over her shoulder.

“No,” you reply, pushing a hand through your hair before shucking off your coat. “One floor up, few units down. Besides, you know where to find me.” Joel catches you glance his way, but it’s short-lived, you turning away a moment later to help Tess put the rest of the food away. “I saw they have a posting for a handyman in the building, one for the apartment across the street too,” you say, putting away a box of instant mashed potatoes. “Unit maintenance and stuff like that, thought you boys might be good for it.”

Tommy nods, enthusiastic. “Sounds good to me.” He glances at Joel over his shoulder. “Gotta get started paying you back what we owe you, Liv.”

You wave a hand, and Joel sees Tess give you a pointed look. “Listen, all of you. We’re square, okay? I mean it. I’m just…I’m glad you’re all here. Safe. That’s all that matters to me.”

Joel can’t hold his tongue. “That soldier beat you half to death.”

“Oh, you noticed?” you throw back, and the guilt simmers in his gut. “We’re square,” you repeat, leaning against the kitchen counter, hip cocked, arms crossed over your chest. A mirror of Joel’s stance. “But there’s something I wanted to bring up to the three of you. Tess and I have already talked it over, and I’ve done okay for myself given the circumstance, but I could use you, all three of you.” Your eyes flick from Tommy to Joel and back again, so quick he nearly misses it. “It’s a risk, I won’t lie, but I’ve got dirt on half the soldiers in this QZ. And I know exactly what to give them to keep their mouths shut.” 

“You already know I’m in,” Tess says, bumping her hip into yours. There’s a tiny grin on your face, the bruising along your cheek pinching slightly. “There are still connections from Baltimore we can use. Between the four of us, we could be living like kings, for a change.”

You nod. “Either way, it’s an offer. I trust you all enough that you’ll keep it secret, but if you want in, my door’s always open.” You pause. “But I do want my keys back.”

“I’m game,” Tommy says, leaning back in his chair. “You tell me where and when, Liv, and I’m there.”

“Same,” Tess agrees, “but we’re still paying you back.”

Joel can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you out of your damn minds? Both of you?” He stares at Tommy when his brother turns to face him, glances at Tess when she steps forward and plants her hands on the kitchen table. “We just got safe again, and already you want to put that in jeopardy?”

Tess scoffs, and the sound makes Joel blood boil. There’s too much happening. The guilt never leaves, but seeing you, hearing your voice, it makes it that much worse, and Tess looking at him like he’s a fucking idiot doesn’t help matters.

“We pulled a lot of bad shit to stay alive out there, Joel,” she says, her tone stern. “Baltimore was no different. I highly doubt a bit of smuggling is going to fuck with our reputations.”

“Your records are clean,” you offer, your voice placating. It makes the hair on the back of Joel’s neck stand on end. “When Cowan brought you through, he wiped them. Tommy’s is already clean, otherwise they wouldn’t have let him through to start with.” You lift your hands. “It’s just an offer, Joel.”

How have you managed to make his own name feel like a punch to the gut?

“I’ll show you to the apartment,” you say, grabbing the keys off the table, putting a hand on Tess’s shoulder. “You guys can talk it out. There’s no pressure. I’ve got a job in a few days, and—”

“I already told you, I’m going with you,” Tess says, and Joel’s brows raise.

“Tess—”

“Shut up, Joel.” She turns towards the door. “Let’s go.”

You swallow, hard enough that Joel can see your throat bob from where he’s standing. Tess grabs her jacket, gestures at Tommy to do the same, and his brother gets to his feet. You hold open the door, and Joel follows Tess and Tommy out. He tries to catch your eye as he walks past you, but your gaze drops to the floor.

Their unit is one floor up, three down from yours. You unlock the door before handing the keys to Tess, let it swing inwards. It looks about the same as yours, save for the floral wallpaper. It’s a bit bigger, an actual separate bedroom, another bed tucked in one corner, a room divider that’s seen better days blocking it off. He’s surprised, almost, that there’s furniture, even blankets on the beds, and follows his brother inside. Tess wanders, and you hang in the doorway, leaned against the jamb.

“I found some stuff at the donation warehouse,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “People will leave all kinds of shit down there, stuff they don’t need. The mattresses aren’t great, but I cleaned them best I could, and there’s some clothes too.” Joel turns to look at you, and your eyes move away from his again. “And, if you’re game for smuggling, when knows what else we might find.”

Tommy walks back over to where you’re stood, slings an arm around your neck, pulling you against him. “You’re an angel, Liv. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply, leaning your head against Tommy’s chest, and Joel ignores the zip of…is that jealousy surging through his gut? Fuck.

But it turns into guilt just as quick, makes something mean bubble out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You shouldn’t have done this.” He doesn’t look at you, not directly, but from the corner of his eye, sees you balk, flinching slightly.

“Joel,” Tess chides, walking over to the door, pulling you out of Tommy’s grip and into a hug. “We owe you, I mean it.”

Joel watches, as you hug Tess. Your eyes flutter shut, your hands hooked around her shoulders, your brow pinched slightly. God, how many times had this thought crossed his mind? How many times had he wondered if the two of you would get along?

How many times had he dreamt of merely seeing you again?

Yet here he is, fucking it up harder than anyone ever could have imagined.

“I’m gonna go,” you say, jutting a thumb over your shoulder. “Tess, I’ll see you tomorrow?” She nods. “And Tommy, you can ask Sergeant McCoy about the handyman gig. He’s a decent guy.”

Then your eyes turn to Joel. He meets them, looks back at you, feels the guilt so thickly he’s convinced it’s replacing his blood. He thinks he hears you say his name, but then your wrench your eyes from his, disappearing from the doorway. His feet move of their own accord, propelling him towards the door, but he stops short, hands swinging at his sides.

Tommy claps him on the shoulder. “Brother, I love you, but you’re a fucking idiot.” He turns to Tess. “I’m gonna go check on her.”

Tess just nods, and the door shuts a moment later. It’s just the two of them, and Joel can already tells he’s about to be on the receiving end of Tess’s anger.

“Sit, Miller.” She points to the kitchen table. It’s not much different than yours, though there are no maps spread across the surface. “You can’t keep doing this shit.”

“Tess, don’t—”

“No, shut the fuck up,” she cuts him off, her hand flexing in the air. “You’re gonna sit there and you’re gonna listen, you understand? Please.”

Tess doesn’t often say please.

Joel swallows hard. “Fine.”

“You need to go after Liv,” she says, the words blunt, laying her hand flat on the table. “You can’t keep pushing her away and treating her the way that you are. You can’t keep doing this to her.”

“I have to,” he replies, the words quick, half-hearted. An excuse.

“No, you don’t,” Tess throws back, just as quick.

“You—”

“We’re done,” she says, cutting him off again. “You and I. It was just stress relief, right from the beginning. I know that, you know that. Nate was gone and you were there and I…” She shakes her head, lifts her hand to her mouth and bites her knuckle before continuing. “If I had a second chance like this, a second shot, goddamn, I would have dropped you so fast your head would’ve spun.” She actually laughs. Her eyes are big and wet, but no tears fall. “She loves you, Joel, and you love her. I knew it from the second you saw her at the gas station. It’s not—”

“Tess—”

“Listen to me, Joel. If I turned a corner tomorrow and saw Nate right there in front of me, there’s not a force on this whole fucking planet that could keep me from him. So why are you doing this to her? To yourself?”

He goes quiet, for a long moment. Stares down at the table top, digs his nail into the grain of the wood. “You said it yourself, Tess. We did a lot of bad shit out there to stay alive. I’m not…” He shakes his head. “I’m not who she remembers, who she loved before.”

Tess reaches out and grabs his hand, squeezes his fingers tightly. “Joel, the fucking world ended. I didn’t know her before, but I highly doubt that the Liv I know now was the same before the outbreak. We do what we have to, to survive. She put her life on the line for us, without batting a fucking eye. The least you can do is talk to her.”

“I can’t—”

“You can. What do I have to say to get it though your thick fucking skull, Miller? Second chances like this don’t just happen. If I had one, I sure as hell wouldn’t squander it the way you’re so hellbent on doing. So don’t.”

“Tess—”

“Please.”

Tess doesn’t often say please.

Slowly, Joel gets to his feet, and Tess follows suit. He’s not quite sure what to do next, but then she grabs the front of his jacket, hauls him against her, throws her arms around his neck. He hugs her back, mouth pressed to the curve of her shoulder.

“And I don’t wanna hear any more shit about not joining forces with Liv,” Tess says softly. “We’d be fucking fools not to.” She claps him on the shoulder, pulling away. “I’ll see you around, Joel.”

“Bye, Tess.”

The doorknob is cold when he reaches for it, and Tess doesn’t say another word as he steps out into the hall, pulls the door shut. His feet seem to carry him down the hall on their own. He heads down the stairs, faintly hears Tommy’s voice calling after him as he heads down towards the lobby. 

“Joel, where you going?”

It’s still a few hours until curfew, the sky still light, though dark clouds are gathering over the city. The moment he’s out the main door, he’s sprinting, running as fast as his legs will carry him. He’s pushing past people on the street, boots scuffing on the pavement, mumbling apologies when he almost crashes into someone. 

He just keeps going, arms pumping once he’s through the crowds of people trying to get home. He has no idea where he’s going, but he just keeps going, on and on and on until he finds himself standing in the same alleyway you’d lead him and Tess through, when you’d smuggled them inside.

What the fuck is he doing?

The rain starts slow, a few drips pelting his shoulders, the back of his neck. He tips his head back, stares up at the ominous dark clouds, hears the rumble of thunder in the distance. Joel lets his eyes slip closed, hands loose at his sides.

In a flash, it’s a downpour. He’s soaked in a matter of seconds, rainwater seeping through his hair, wetting his scalp. It runs down his cheeks, sneaks beneath the collar of his flannel, gathers in the hollow of his throat.

She loves you, Joel, and you love her. 

Tess is right. He knows she’s right. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, he always knew in the back of his mind that if he found you again, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself away from you. Everything he’s been doing, everything he’s said since you mentioned Sarah, it’s been…survival. Fear, that if he lets himself have you again, he’ll just lose you, like he lost her. That someone or something will take you from him.

Tommy told me. About Sarah. Joel, I’m so sorry, I just—

It hurts. The memory makes panic and fear surge through him, every single time. Makes his heart beat faster, his hands clench into fists, sweat at his hairline. But you don’t know that. How could you? He hasn’t told you, hasn’t let you in, hasn’t done anything but try and stay as far away from you as possible.

He can’t keep doing this. He knows that. When he closes his eyes, he still sees those tears on your face, at the gas station. The bat in your hand, the bravery in your eyes. You weren’t the same person he’d fallen in love with back in Austin. But you’ve survived just as hard as he has, and you lived. You’re alive.

I’ll find you, baby.

He swore to you.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Joel says the words aloud, towards the sky, to the dark clouds still pouring down on him. “Fuck.”

He turns on his heel and sprints back up the alley. The rain isn’t letting it up, pelting his face, soaking his hair further. He pushes his way back through the crowds, takes the same random path he’d just run in reverse, back to the building.

Back to you.

He takes the stairs two at a time, ignoring the way his knees are shouting in protest. He’s out of breath by the time he skids to a stop in front of your door, bangs his fist on the wood. “Liv!”

“It’s open,” he hears you call from the other side, and twists the handle, pushes the door open. You’re sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing at your forehead, a bottle of whiskey not far from reach. Your gaze lifts slowly, but then your entire expression changes when you see him standing there in the doorway. “Joel? What’re you do—”

“I wanna talk to you,” he says, the words coming out in a rush. His heart is hammering in his chest. He steps through the doorway, shuts it behind him. “Please.”

“Why are you wet?” you ask, your eyes narrowing, but then you shake your head, waving your hands. “Doesn’t matter. What…you wanna talk?”

“I do.”

“About what?”

He heaves a breath. “You. Me. Tess, she—”

You lift a hand, your expression turning defeated, and reach for the whiskey. “It’s fine, Joel. I get it. It’s not like I expected you to wait around for me or anything like that, but just for the record, it’s not reason enough to avoid me like the fucking plague.” You take a swig from the bottle, tearing your eyes from his.

“I’m sorry,” he says instantly, and takes a step towards the table. You lower the bottle, slide your gaze back to his. “About all of it, Liv. Please. I just wanna talk you.” 

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, shakes the water from his fingers. You don’t say anything when he shrugs out of his jacket, hangs it on the hook near the door, settles into the seat across from you. He points towards the whiskey, and you slide it across the table to him. The liquor burns on the way down, but the warmth that follows helps with the chill from the rain.

You lean back slightly in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, staring him down. “You wanna talk, Miller,” you say, and part of him wonders how much you’ve had to drink already. “Then talk.”

He takes another long swig of the whiskey. The noise the bottle makes as he puts it back down seems to echo through the apartment. “I’ve been an asshole,” he says, his gaze dropping to his lap, “since the gas station. I’ve been trying my goddamn best to push you away, and I just…” He lifts his head, lets one hand rest on the table, an olive branch between you. “I’m sorry.”

“You said that already.”

“Liv, I just…I did some terrible shit out there, to stay alive. I’m not the same. But I know you aren’t either.”

“We all do terrible shit to stay alive, Joel.” You huff a little laugh. “It’s just the way of the world now.” You drag a hand over your face. “Besides, you are the only thing I have left,” you say, and Joel’s heart jumps into his throat, “from before.” You blink hard, and he can see the tears gathering along your lashes. Everything in him wants to vault the table separating you and just hold you. “I was gonna leave Boston. Before they put up the wall, when all that was standing in my way was a fucking chain link fence. I was gonna leave. Then Cowan calls the Austin QZ, asks about my family, and there’s no record of my sister, no record of you, but my parents…”

You trail off, shaking your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You wipe at your cheeks, and lay your hand on the table, inches from his. Joel’s fingers twitch.

“What happened?”

“FEDRA levelled Austin, when it was overrun. My parents were in a shelter, when they dropped the bombs, and no one survived.”

Joel balks. He remembers, that night, the outbreak. He remembers Tommy’s truck barrelling down the road, down the main drag where the hardware store was. He remembers flames pouring out of the storefront, shattered glass and the way the awning had caught fire. He remembers praying to whoever the fuck was even bothering to listen anymore that your family was okay.

“So you stayed.”

You nod, fingers tapping on the table. “I stayed. I got lucky, really. Dean got me good, before I…” You trail off, rubbing at your shoulder. “They were killing anyone who was injured, shooting them point blank in the streets. I just ran, and nearly a week later, when the soldiers stopped me at the fence, I was still me, and Cowan made sure no one saw my injuries, had Deanna treat me. Left a nasty fucking scar.” You squeeze your shoulder, pulling your eyes from Joel’s. “I never stopped wanting to go looking for you, Joel. Not once. I just—”

He shakes his head, flexes his fingers on the tabletop. “It doesn’t matter, Liv. You did what you had to, to stay alive. We all did.” He swallows hard. “When did it happen? With Dean.”

You grab the bottle, turning fully to face him, your other hand still planted inches from his. “Outbreak day. It’s funny, actually, I had just been on the phone, with you, you remember?”

Joel lets himself smile, the conversation rising to the surface of his mind. “We wished each other happy birthday.”

“We did,” you agree, and take a swig. “I just got home, and Dean was…he was just standing there, in the bedroom, staring out the window. He didn’t notice me, not at first.” You shake your head, letting go of the bottle, rubbing your fingers across your forehead. “I shouldn’t have done it, looking back, but I didn’t know, and I…I called his name. He turned, and he looked at me with that…that dead look they have, you know? And then…then he started running at me, and I knew something was wrong. I kept the bat right by the bedroom door, and when he came at me, I just…swung. Until he stopped.”

You grab the bottle again, and Joel flexes his pinky wide, until it grazes yours. Your eyes drop to the table. “You protected yourself, baby.”

It’s like everything in the apartment shifts, as the endearment rolls off his tongue. He doesn’t mean to say it so soon, but everything in him is aching to comfort you, the feeling tenfold after being stuffed down for so long. Why did he put you through this? Why did he put himself through this?

Your eyes are watery when they lift to his again. “I never should have left Austin, Joel,” you say, and slide your hand across the table, settling it on top of his, your palms pressed together. “I never should have left you.”

“I’m here now,” he says, letting his fingers curl around your wrist. His heart races when you do the same. “It doesn’t matter. None of it.”

Your thumb slides across his pulse, and your eyes flutter shut for a moment before they meet his again. There’s fire in your eyes, one he hasn’t seen in a long, long time. “What are we doing here, Joel?”

His brow pinches. “What d’you mean?”

“This is the ultimate second chance,” you say, and he can’t help his chuckle, “and we are royally fucking it up.” He keeps laughing, and you dig your nails into his skin, making him yelp. “It’s not funny, Joel!”

“I know, I know,” he says, his tone going apologetic. “It’s just…you and Tess get on well, don’t you?”

You scoff a little laugh, nodding. “She’s a badass.”

He juts his chin towards you. “So are you.”

“I get it,” you say, pulling your eyes away. Your hand stays where it is. “The two of you, it makes sense. I…I was with Cowan.” You make a face. “Am with Cowan? I don’t know. It’s just…comfort, I guess, but now, it…”

Joel can’t help but bristle slightly. “He’s helped you all these years?”

You nod slowly. “Hasn’t ratted me out, got me out of some pretty deep shit once or twice. But he’s not…” You nail him to the spot with your stare, leaning forward slightly, sliding your hand up his arm until it’s wrapped around his forearm, resting in the crook of his elbow. “He doesn’t come close, Joel. Dean, Cowan, they’re just…” You shake your head. “They’re nothing, compared to you. I could never love anyone else the way I loved you.” You pause, chew your lip. “Love you.”

“Liv—”

“But I won’t get between you and Tess, I promise. I like her, and you and me, it doesn’t—”

“Tess broke things off,” he says, and your eyes go wide. “She was right. I couldn’t keep doing what I was doing, pushing you away, thinking it was easier that way. I don’t want to stay away from you anymore. I can’t stay away from you.”

“So don’t.”

“You just said you and Cowan—”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. None of it matters.”

Joel’s brain stalls, for a moment, seeing the flare in your eyes. He gets up slowly. Your hands move to your lap as he rounds the table, pulls you to your feet. There’s only inches between you, the air turning thick with tension. “Say it again,” he says, his voice hushed, almost a whisper.

You close the distance, stepping into his arms. His hands slip beneath the hem of your sweater, resting on your jean-clad hips, and Joel inhales deeply when your palms slide up his biceps, rest on his shoulders, one hand slipping up the back of his hair, wet curls twisted between your knuckles. 

“Don’t stay away from me,” you murmur, tugging lightly at his hair, until his face is angled with yours. He can smell the whiskey on your breath, see the remains of the bruise on your cheek. He can feel your heartbeat, wild against his own, your chest against his. “Be with me, Joel, please.”

Your voice cracks on the please, and that’s what gets him. The tension snaps, and he can’t hold back anymore.

There’s no hesitancy in it. It feels like he’s kissing you for the very first time all over again — feels like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. The press of your mouth is hot and wet, a tiny mewl falling from your lips to his as you hold him to you, your fingers tightening in his hair. He kisses your bottom lip, then the top, sinking his teeth into your flesh, pulling more tiny noises from you. God, he’s fucking missed you, so goddamned much.

You chase him when he pulls away, grabbing his lower lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth, giving you a hungrier kiss the second time round. He pushes you backwards, your boots tangling with his and suddenly you’re a heap of limbs on the ground. You actually laugh and Joel kisses the sound right out of your mouth, licking his tongue along the seam of your lips.

The motion makes you whimper, adjusting yourself beneath him until your thighs are spread either side of his hips, your boots planted on the ground. Everything in him feels white-hot, and he can’t stop kissing you, making up for lost time, pouring his apologies into his kisses, memorizing the way you feel and taste now.

“Joel,” you gasp out when he slides his hand along your jaw, tilts your head back on the wood floor, noses his way down your throat.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your skin, inhaling you deeply, kissing at your pulse.

“Take me to bed.”

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[liliumsabyss]

Had a little look through your character list to see if you wrote for Outer banks, the show isn’t there but at the top of your list it says that characters can be requested it’s just not 100% that you will write for them. If you don’t that’s completely ok I’d be happy for you to use this request for my fav Newt or even switch it up and write it for Spencer Reid because I saw him on the list too.

Anyway here’s the thoughts that have been thunk: Jj Maybank from outer banks (happy for someone else if you don’t write him) with a sleepy boyfriend (reader) who has just woken up and Jj isn’t there with him so he just wanders around until he finds hims and pretty much just falls into his arms for cuddles when he does find him and it’s all cute and fluffy.

I mean this with my whole entire mind body and spirit, you are one of my favourite authors and even though I have no idea who you are I love you and your work. I eat it up every time you write one of my requests and it’s just: ✨❤️🤩🏆 all the time, you know? Thank you for existing and sharing your stories they make my day.

All the love ❤️

Sleepyheads

FEM DNI, I SWEAR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Word Count: 0.7k

Tw: Very brief allusions to medical emergencies such as heart attacks, strokes, and other things along those lines but never outwardly stated just the asking of symptoms, Mentions of Cat Adams and Tobias Hankel, Very Fluffy, Spencers adorable stutter and yes he has a stutter, and Unedited

A/n: Hey! Once again thank you so much for the request! Im sorry this took so long I may or may not have gone down a rabbit hole trying to figure out Jj’s personality from OBX only to fail and ask everyone I know who watches the show including my mother for his personality only for them all to not be very helpful and have to go with one of the other characters you stated. I ended up going with Spencer to shake things up and also I love Spencer so much and with the new criminal minds season having him gone I chose to show him some love. Thank you so much for everything it’s such an honor for someone to think of me as their favorite author and to like my work. Also the day I got this request I had a very poor encounter with someone so this just made my day so much! Thank you so much <3

(Y/n) woke up sleepily blinking his eyes open, reaching to his right lazily when he felt a cold empty spot. He sat up quickly looking around confused in the dark room noticing the vacant right side of the bed. The warm light poured under the doorway from the hall of the apartment. The (h/c) haired male swung his legs off the bed slowly standing up as he rubbed his eyes sleepily stumbling to the door of the bedroom. He opened up the door blinking wildly as the light flooded in, hurting his eyes. (Y/n) walked down the hallway to the end which opened up into the large room that was split between the kitchen, living room, and dinning room, across the rood was a set of glass french doors. Looking through the glass doors one could see a man curled over his desk still adorning his plum colored button up shirt and his dark dark blue almost black tie that hung loosely around his neck. His mop of curly brown hair covered many details of his face including his warm umber colored eyes that stared stressfully at the case files scattered across the desk. (Y/n) staggered his way across the large open room of the apartment he shared with his boyfriend who was in fact the man hunched over the desk lost in his work, Spencer Reid. The (h/c) haired male approached the glass doors knocking gently leaning against them for support, tiredly wrapping his arms around himself. The other male turned his head towards the glass doors staring at the other in surprise. He quickly got up rushing over to the glass doors opening the one his lover was not leaning against.

“ Mh Spence why are you up…” (Y/n) said as he stopped leaning against the doors.

“ I-I had to look more at this case some-something about it doesn’t seem right,” Spencer started rubbing his hand on his forehead before he looked up with his eyebrows pinched.

“ Wait w-why are you u-” 

Spencer began to day but was cut off when the (h/c) haired male collapses towards him catching the other.

“ Woah woah (Y/n)! Are you ok! What’s wrong?! Your pulse seems to be fine. Does your chest hurt? Did you hit your head? Can you put both your hands out and close your eyes for me?” Spencer started to ramble asking various questions related to various medical emergencies. The (h/c) haired male just wrapped his arms tightly around the other snuggling his head into the other male's chest.

“ Spence, I'm fine, can you come to bed please.” (Y/n) said, staring up at Spencer putting on a playful pout. Spencer shook his head, his lips pulling into his wide iconic grin.

“ Ok. Did you know that the human body needs at least se-“ Spencer started to say as the two walked towards their bedroom, his arm around the other's waist. But before the brunette could continue (Y/n) jabbed his elbow into Spencer's side quickly shutting him up understanding the point. The two staggered to their room shutting the white wooden door behind them causing them to be surrounded in dark. The two collapsed on their bed not bothering to climb under the covers. The (h/c) haired male buried his head in the brunette male's chest while Spencer moved his chin on top of the other's head, both holding each other tightly in their arms.

“ I love you Spence…” (Y/n) said drifting off at the warmth that the other radiated.

“ I love you too.” Spencer said, squeezing the other tightly as he closed his eyes. While Spencer often had nightmares due to his occupation and just everything he went through from Cat to Hankel to the victims he was just slightly too late to help even though it wasn’t his fault but with (Y/n) he rarely maybe even never gets them and if he does his lover has always been there by his side after. And so the two drifted off in each others embrace just enjoying the time they had together before the next morning they would each be called to their respective jobs.