#and how that same year you got sexually assaulted in a way that was so weird you assumed no one would beleive you so you just didnt tell

[rebellum]

God writing that last post was so, so hard.

Rn I feel the weight of every sadness and every bad thing that's happened to me since I was 9 and had my first important pet death

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

For some people, just reading facts is less educational than actively engaging with them - so here’s a little pop quiz on HIV transmission! 

I’ll tell you some scenarios and you can try to answer if you think you could get HIV that way or not. You’ll find the correct answers under the cut! 

You go swimming with some friends. You later learn that one of them is HIV-positive. You were in the water at the same time. 

You had sex without a condom. It was with your long-term partner and it’s a closed relationship (neither of you has sex with others). You both got tested early on in the relationship, both were negative, but it has been some years since then. 

You got so drunk at a party that you don’t fully remember what happened. You believe you may have had sex with someone there but, for the life of you, you just can’t remember who it was or if you used protection. 

You had to pee really really bad while out and about, so you ended up using a public restroom that was pretty gross and dirty. 

You went on a couple dates with someone. You kissed a few times but didn’t go any further. They just contacted you and told you they tested positive for HIV. 

You live with a roommate. They had some friends over and you just realized one of them apparently used some of the body lotion you were storing in the bathroom. 

You had casual sex with someone. You used a condom but they later on told you that it slipped off during the act and that they didn’t say anything to not ruin the mood. 

One of your friends is HIV-positive. You often hug them or you snuggle while watching tv together. Sometimes you even share a drink (from the same cup). 

You used what you believed to be your own lip balm. You feel grossed out when you realize it’s not yours: your coworker accidentally put theirs in your coat pocket. 

You are in a long term relationship and are regularly sexually active without a condom. You just learned your partner cheated on you multiple times. 

Correct answers below the cut: 

1.No risk. HIV cannot survive in water and is not transmitted through casual contact.

2.No risk (if everyone is honest). If neither of you has had any other partners since the tests, and you haven’t been exposed to HIV through other means, there’s no risk. (However, if there is any uncertainty (you worry they may lie about not sleeping with anyone else etc.), it’s a good idea to get retested!) 

3. Potential risk. Unprotected sex can transmit HIV, so it’s recommended to get tested if you’re uncertain about protection use or the partner’s status.

4. No risk. HIV is not transmitted through surfaces, including toilets, regardless of cleanliness.

5. No (to extremely low) risk. HIV is not transmitted through saliva, so kissing does not pose a risk. (The only risk would be if both of you had sores or bleeding gums and blood from the HIV-positive partner gets into the bloodstream of the HIV-negative partner. This is extremely unlikely.)

6. No risk. HIV does not survive well outside the human body and is not transmitted through sharing personal care items like lotion.

7. Potential risk. If the condom slipped off, there may have been some exposure to bodily fluids, which could transmit HIV. Testing is advised. (Side note: Consent is only true consent if everyone is informed on what’s going on. In this scenario, you did not consent to having sex without a condom! Regardless of them not wanting to “ruin the mood”: That’s a form of sexual assault.) 

8. No risk. HIV is not transmitted through casual skin contact like hugging or snuggling. HIV is also not spread through saliva (drinking from the same cup). 

9. No risk. HIV cannot survive well outside the body and is not transmitted via shared lip balm.

10. Potential risk. If your partner has had other partners, there is a risk of exposure. Testing is recommended. 

How many did you get right? 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[crsssie]

pretty blonde curls

word count: 11.6k || College Frat AU || banner by @temmmry

warnings: mentions of sexual assault (not from reader or curly), depictions of violence (reader beats jimmy up), smut (2 scenes)

summary: "Me or him, Grant?"

Curly would say it takes quite a bit for it to get through his head that someone likes him.

He recalls an early moment in college when he had only been part of the frat, four drinks in before he had been raising a brow at one of the girls who had detached from Jimmy and found him, her frustration evident when she had whined that she was trying to ask him out — only to be met with a quiet "oh" from him and an apologetic shake of his head.

He's not stupid when someone's trying to sleep with him, though. Playing stupid when someone wants to hook up with him is always easier than saying no. It's the same as dressing baggy on campus to avoid attention.

"Too attractive," Jimmy tells him.

Curly doesn't see it, remnants of his health problems evident on the stretch marks on his shoulders, insecurity creeping down his sides and across his stomach onto his thighs — but it's all easy to hide. It makes him less scary to approach when he's on the board by his second and third year of the frat. He had been tugged along by Jimmy — which he's thankful for, really. But Jimmy complains about how much easier it seems for Curly to move up the ranks when he brings a different chick home every other day.

So, when the discussions for the next president creep out, it comes to no one's surprise that Curly is president, but everyone's shocked that Jimmy's the VP.

It's easy for Curly to be elected as the face of the frat, clean record, and everyone's favorite from none else but hard work. His professors appreciate his sincerity, and he had been in contact with many of the executives of the school since he was elected as VP. It's easy for it to be him simply because everyone knows he's reliable enough for it — and he knows when to stop. A clean slate — impossible to break and crumble down the name he has built. False accusations of sexual assault never lasted long. Curly was simply too clean for it.

It was almost always Jimmy's fault when it came to it.

But some people steer clear of the frat and its members in general, and while Curly has been dense when people liked him, he understood. Someone who refuses all advances and plays stupid the same way he does at the parties is agitating. He can't complain but, really, he wishes he'd be at least given a chance.

"Not with you alone, no." You click through your schedule. "I told you, Grant. I don't want... you know."

"He won't—"

"It never ends well. You know the rumors spreading about your vice president. You've not got bloodless hands just because it wasn't you, you know? A friend who does nothing to help is just as guilty." You slide your books into your bag, looking around.

"Not under the law—"

"Maybe." You wave bye to him after class, calling at your friends who have come to pick you up.

Curly understands your hesitation. You don't dislike him — visible from the way you're still friends with him, but you refuse to go out with him to hang out or anything else similar unless he could guarantee you wouldn't bump into any of his brothers. You refuse to be out with him even if all of the professors like him because it'd be terrifying to put yourself at risk of being so close to someone on campus who was known to be a sleaze. The election of Jimmy into the frat board threw you off more when he had called you one night.

You'd built more distance when you had found out.

You know he's not the same, but you didn't ever want to be on Jimmy's radar, and Curly had done a good job not showing you at all to anyone he knew so far, and you only prayed it would continue like that.

Curly understands what you mean. His hands aren't bloodless. Jimmy's smeared blood onto his palms and he's washed it off more times than necessary — dried skin from the bleaching far too many times. He can't count how many times he's had to step in and tell Jimmy that taking home the plastered girl from the party wasn't a smart idea and how people had to get checked for drugs because while getting high would be pleasant, someone coming for the frat because one of the members had slipped in a date rape drug to assault someone would not. He's stern about that, and not even Jimmy is allowed any wiggle room.

But it doesn't matter how much he does to make sure that the parties thrown are safe for all. You still refuse to associate with him too much.

At least the frat's name is growing thanks to his effort.

"Presentation night in three weeks." He mumbles to himself as he texts the board groupchat, fingers quick on his phone as he dabs at the sweat on his forehead with the towel.

"Oh, look who it is." You hum, head tilted as you start the treadmill next to him. "Presentation night? What are you presenting on?"

He beams at the sight of you. "Every single time I've had a complaint from the school addressed to me about the club since the start of the school year. Surprised to see you here. Thought you didn't like hanging with me in public."

"Jimmy's in class." You stretch your arms above your head, humming. "Just gotta make sure I don't bump into him."

"Yeah, he is— how'd you know?"

"A friend shares a class with him." You hit the treadmill twice, speeding up. "Warming up or cooling down?"

"Cooling down." Curly hums. "It's getting dark. I could walk you—"

"It's alright. Anya's class just ended." You wave at him dismissively. "See you in class tomorrow."

"See you."

You don't share a major with Curly. You had one class first semester of freshman together and then exchanged numbers — Curly had looked quite nerdy at the time, tall but lack of muscle evident on his face, and over the 15 weeks of instruction, he had lost the majority of his weight after you had told him you'd be down to be gym buddies with him. By spring, he had joined one of the frats and met Jimmy, and the two had stuck close since.

Gym with you is rarer these days, but still.

He claims you helped a lot early on, completely relaxed when you had mentioned casually that you'd be checking out the gym and were scared to do it alone — and the rest was history. He bulked up much faster than you reached your goal, and by the time that the semester came to an end, you couldn't count on two hands how many people had oogled at Curly when he passed them. You couldn't blame them. His biceps were museum-worthy.

The streaks of white on his back and shoulders that you caught wind of when he walked around in made him insecure. You'd caught it once when his shirt soaked through, and he had thrown his hoodie on almost immediately after. The stretch marks on his skin are oftentimes attributed to his height and muscle — never to his past.

He stares at himself in the mirror longer on some days, your voice in his ear as the two of you call. You do care, Curly knows. You just find Jimmy a bitch and hate him with a passion reserved for no one else.

"It'll be hot tomorrow." You hum. "You gonna go around in a long sleeve again?"

"Might wear a t-shirt." He glances at his back as he flexes, staring at the lines on his back.

"Won't you wear a tank so I can drool over those arms?"

"You and your obsession with muscles."

"Hey, it's not horrible."

"Says the one who took a whole digicam photo of my biceps back in year two."

"Hey."

"I'll tell you. You down to study on Saturday?"

"As long as you drive."

"You wouldn't go if I didn't."

"Maybe." You mumble. "Keep Jimmy away."

"And if he wants to come?"

"Tell him to kill himself."

"I can't do that, sweetheart."

"Sure you can, big guy."

Curly likes you. He thinks it's painfully obvious. His brothers in the frat find it painfully obvious. When he smiles at his phone there's an 11/10 chance that you're texting him, and it's much easier to ask him a question and get away with things when he's on call with you because he's barely listening to their question and wants them away from his door as soon as possible so he can continue to talk to you.

It's just a matter of fact that no one knows quite what you look like or what you sound like.

Curly keeps you in his ear at all times, and you never videocall him.

And if some of the frat brothers try to follow him to a coffee shop, Curly's got the sixth sense of a hawk and everyone's location, so as long as one person's by him, he refuses to let you out of the car, even if it means he goes in to grab your orders and you both sit on the car to study. Refuses to let you out or you refuse to get out. The frat just assumes that it's the former, so they stop trying to follow him out to the study sessions.

"They're not here." Curly offers you his hand, and you hum.

"Thank you, Grant."

"Of course."

"Is there a reason why they call you Curly?"

"Don't you think my last name sounds like my first?"

"Hm... I could see Grant as a last name, yeah." You pause. "You got a preference?"

"You get to use Grant 'cause you don't need t' treat me like a president."

"I suppose so. The professors like your last name better, too."

"I suppose." He lets you order first, glancing up at the menu as you finish grabbing your usual.

He thinks it's unsurprising that he likes you this much. You're easy to like and easy to take care of. The fact that you haven't left him despite his best friend's awful reputation was probably an act of mercy in itself. You never fail to remind him that he's part of the problem, though. Really. Truly. You're very much aware that Curly is constantly on thin ice when it comes to Jimmy, and there are lines that you draw to make sure that Curly can never quite get as close as he'd like to.

You refuse to let him do anything that would give anyone the wrong idea, and the furthest that Curly has managed to push you was the study sessions that you only allow on weekends and only go with him after he makes sure no one follows him out.

You refuse to be made public with him.

And it's not that you worry about your reputation or that you don't seem to like Curly — it's really as simple as how much you despise his best friend. Curly seems to have caught on early, never pushing much further than what you allow him. He lets you initiate everything so that you feel like you have more control. He understands how awful it can get when you feel as though you have no control over anything.

He knows what it feels like to have none.

So you're allowed to boss him around, he really doesn't mind it, and dare he say it, it's almost nice. It makes him feel all warm and domestic when you do. Sometimes you bring him back to your apartment when your housemate isn't home and study there, and he likes it. He likes the way you kick him under the dinner table as you swing your legs to focus. You prefer it to tapping your pen, but you also have the habit of biting the back of your pens and darting your tongue out to lick your bottom lip when it gets dry, and Curly can't help but notice the way your lips glisten with your saliva and wonder what it'd look like wrapped around his— not that he would ever actually do anything about it! The most he'll do is adjust the strain in his pants and let out a sigh.

Someone save him.

He likes you, painfully, though. His heart races when he sees you pass him and he thinks he lights up like the sun when you wave back. It's a little bit concerning. Maybe that's why he insists on studying with you despite the fact that your schedules barely match up and why he slots out his Saturday brunches to hang out with you to study and grab brunch because you never seem to have breakfast. He wonders if you do it on purpose or if you just have the worst eating habits on earth.

You don't let him pay even when he insists.

You draw a line between the two of you that gets painfully clearer and clearer to Curly, and he wonders if he's just somehow really into someone who could lowkey crush his heart if given the chance. He gets it to some extent. You don't like his friends, so by proxy you wouldn't be able to last with him anyway if the two of you could start dating. No. Not friends. Just Jimmy. You despise his best friend, and it's almost as if you're just waiting for him to slip up.

But you let Curly get away with more and more as the semester progresses. You bring him home once without checking if your roommates are there, and you blink as Anya stares back at you, waving slowly at Curly as he nods. Another time you pass a couple of his brothers while passing by the frat, and Curly has to cover up and tell them that he was just walking a classmate because it was late. It wasn't out of character for him to play it off as that. Most of his frat understands to respect his private life. After all, despite how reliable Curly was, most of the frat still didn't like burderning him all that much. It was easier to let things be and stay out of trouble.

Not that Curly gets any less complaints from faculty.

Jimmy's failing this class, this other brother is, and another, and another... Curly finds that it's quite annoying, and soon, he calls for the club to start hosting study sessions so that at least the professors wouldn't be complaining about how the frat life was getting in the way. He suspends nonessential parties for the time being and texts you that Saturdays aren't free anymore, and you laugh.

"They're grown ass men and can't study on their own?"

"Happens to everyone." Curly mumbles, glancing at the study group. "We're in this together."

"Anyone got their girlfriend over?"

"You... miss me?"

"Miss your muscles, gorgeous." You laugh from the other side, voice cutting off as you mute yourself.

Curly shakes his head, glancing at the guys in the room.

"You wanna come over?"

"Is Jimmy there?"

"Yeah."

"Then no."

"I still don't get your problem with him."

"Maybe you'd have to be a woman to find out." You hum. "If you wanna come over just let me know."

"You don't mind your roommates knowing?"

"Everyone's out for the weekend."

"Ah. I'll text you."

"Alright. See you around, big boy."

"See you around, sweetheart."

Curly doesn't think about Jimmy much. He's as much of a friend and maybe even more since he had introduced him to the frat, and although Jimmy's got a questionable reputation, Curly chooses to trust his friend. Jimmy isn't horrific in his eyes. He's just a guy who might come off as a sleaze, and maybe he's definitely questionable because of how seemingly little he cares for women, and maybe he's just... yeah, maybe Curly isn't understanding because Jimmy could never treat him the same way he treats the girls at the parties. Though, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that Jimmy barely cares.

"Hey." Curly grabs a guy's shoulder, and the poor girl scurries off into the crowd of the party.

"Curly. Really?" He groans.

"No fucking the girls who look like they're terrified."

"So I can fuck someone who isn't?"

"Don't go harassing them."

Curly gives the guy two pats on the shoulder as he spots you at the door, grinning at one of the other guys.

"Oh, really?" You tilt your head. "Didn't realize the place was so big."

"I love it." The guy laughs, raising a brow as Curly steps over. "Curly."

Curly tilts his head at you, and you tilt your head to the side.

"Our president. Curly."

"Grant's fine." He holds his hand out for yours, and you take it, nodding as you shake on it. "New here?"

"Got invited by this nerd."

"ey."

"Affectionately, of course." You hum, patting the guy on the chest twice.

"I'll take her from here."

"Of course, prez."

Once you're far away enough, you meet eyes with Curly and laugh.

"You drink yet?"

"Wanted to experience one sober." You press against Curly as someone squeezes past you.

"Sober makes it boring, sweetheart."

"Well I can see someone certainly has gotten a drink or two in his system." You pinch at his cheek, and he brushes noses with you.

"Maybe."

"Where's my charming gym buddy?"

"Still here, sweets." He hums.

"Maybe." You push yourself off of him, glancing at the rest of the crowd. "Smells awful in here."

"It's why I don't invite you. Outside of you not caring, of course." He fistbumps a guy that passes, flicking his chin at him as you stare.

"You look real good, Grant." You tap his chest, humming as you glance in the corner of your eye.

"Why are you here? You hate being here because of..."

"Heard he'll be late. Wanted to come see you." You brush your nose up his jaw, and his eyes flutter as he hums.

"This is nice."

"Of course." Your palm finds his chest, and you hum quietly. "I'll head out in a bit. Just wanted to come say hi."

"Not staying?"

"Not for too long. Heard Jimmy would be late. Not gone." You tap his chest gently, and he presses his forehead to yours. He opens his phone and looks for Jimmy's location, humming as he buries his face in your neck.

"See you around?"

"My place tomorrow? Heard there was no study sesh tomorrow."

"Eleven?"

"Mhm."

"See you." He sends you off with a quick nod, and you're off past the door.

It's a quick call. He would have liked for you to stay longer, but Jimmy walks in five minutes after you're gone, and it's back to being friends with Jimmy.

It's a constant dichotomy - the difference between being friends with you and with Jimmy. You're so tame even when you kick him under the table, and you're in little to no trouble. Jimmy gets allegations every now and then at the parties, and Curly is always stuck cleaning up after him. Sweep them under the rug. It's fine. It wasn't anything — alright, maybe he's starting to get your point. He doubts he'd want to hang around Jimmy if he was a girl, but he isn't, so he gets a little leeway, maybe.

He doesn't even notice that you've settled between his legs on the floor, and he blinks down at you as you bare your teeth and smile at him.

"Hey."

"Hey." He swallows. "Something wrong? Dropped something?"

Your palm makes contact with his inner thigh, pushing them out as you prop your elbows to free your hands to work at his belt.

"Hey, sweetheart, hey—"

"Quiet." You mumble, poking at his dick through his boxers as you pull at the waistband, and Curly panics. No way you're doing this. You barely even like it when he holds open doors for you and offers to walk you home. You're definitely drunk or maybe you got your hands on some drugs or whatever because surely you're not—

You're taking him.

You're sucking him.

He blinks owlishly at you, your lips parted and skin glistening under him, lashes fluttering as you wrap a hand around his base, and he thinks he's going to pass out. Your mouth is painfully warm, and he reaches his fingers to thread through your hair, head thrown back in bliss as he—

His alarm rings, and Curly heaves, hand over his chest as heart threatens to break past his ribcage. God, fucking hell. He needs to fix his mind before you turn around and leave him for good for even thinking about you like that.

He'd argue that you probably know from the way you raise a brow at him on occasion, but better safe than sorry.

You're knocked out on the coffee table, eyes closed as you sit across him, and Curly adjusts the strain in his pants. It'd be rude to rub one out in your bathroom, but it'd also be uncomfortable for him to just let it sit there. He taps his fingers on the table as he stares at the drool that slides past your lips, humming to himself as you mumble to yourself.

He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and your lashes flutter awake.

"Was I drooling?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry." You mumble.

"I should be sorry." He swallows. "You too tired for this?"

"Not too tired. Just tired." You mumble, yawning as you smush your cheek against the glass and blink at Curly. "You've got blonde lashes."

"Sure do." He stares back down at you, shifting his legs again.

"Do I gotta make a joke about how you're hard or are you just restless today?" You look away, staring at the blank screen across from you.

"Restless." He mumbles. He's sure the red on his ears is giving him away.

"Well, at least the GE will be out of the way." You kick at his leg from under the table, and you click your pen twice. "Don't got all day, big boy. Still have gym later."

"Yeah." He mumbles.

He doesn't see you for a while after that.

You go and flounce around and hole up in your room afterward, and Curly busies himself with the things of the frat and preparations for the pre-finals week party. It's never a smart choice but most people are going to find a party to go to anyway, so he might as well host one. Reputation has to be upheld anyway.

He texts the groupchat and everyone gets the drinks, and Curly checks the whole house for hard drugs, raising a brow at one of the younger boys who pulls out a sheet of LSD. It's shoved in the vault for safekeeping, and Curly assures him he'll get it back after the party when everyone sobers up.

Then people are invited and the house fills right up. Curly leans against the wall, just enough alcohol in his system to be warm, but not enough to cloud judgement — at least not according to himself. He glances around at the party, nodding at people he knows, chatting idylly with people he recognizes, the music and yelling making it hard to hear. Curly learns to read lips, and he sends almost everyone off with a quick flick of his fingers.

It should be fine. It's usually fine. It's the biggest party of the year that he had the trouble of going through planning in his third year, but this year is a lot more relaxed now that he isn't struggling to count club funds. Treasurer was not a fun position if you didn't like it all that much. At least he isn't going through it again. Also, the alcohol makes it hard for him to really keep to his weight. Too much sugar. Not good for his health or—

"Grant!" You call, squeezing past a couple making out as you tug on his collar and have him bend down for you, lips brushing his jaw as you grin. "There you are. Brooding all by yourself, handsome?"

"Sweetheart." He hums, hand finding your cheek as he squeezes gently. "What brings you here?"

"Boredom. Also alcohol."

"Didn't want'a get drunk at your apartment?"

"So much more fun when there's a man around."

"And Jimmy?"

"Heard he isn't coming tonight."

"You seem to know whenever he isn't coming." Curly brushes his nose against yours, and you hum.

"Don't want to catch his eye."

"You're already catchin' everyone's by bein' here." He eyes one of his brothers that stares, the poor guy looking to the side at Curly's glance.

"I think it's cuz their precious president is all up on some girl they've never met." You whisper, pinching his cheek as he leans back up. "Hm?"

"Well, not that they haven't met you."

"People are nosy." You glance to the side, winking at one of the girls that pass.

"How much d'you drink?"

"Pregamed at home. Three shots? Horrible for my sugar intake, though." You mumble, hand resting on Curly's chest as he pulls you in by the waist.

"Makes two of us." He mumbles, hand finding your forearm as he rubs. "You stayin' the whole time?"

"When's it end?"

"1:30 we start yellin'"

"Then until y'all clean up." You hum. "Not completely drunk."

"Can tell."

That's the fun thing with you, though. Your alcohol tolerance runs the same as Curly, so he finds that it's a lot easier to know when you'll knock out in his arms. It's not the first party you've been to. You joined once back in freshman when Curly first joined, and you had met Jimmy — and immediately decided that it was not worth it. You patted Curly twice on the chest and left that night, and never came back. It was surprising that you'd show to a party in year four of all times. He's not complaining, though. Always nice to see your pretty face.

Curly keeps an eye on Jimmy's location when you're around just because he'd hate to see you actually meet the guy. Met him once years ago and decided to stay as far away as you could.

"Don't get why you can't just drop him."

"Maybe after college." He mumbles. "He's our VP."

"Would you kick him if an allegation was serious enough?"

"How serious?"

"Expulsion serious."

"I'd have to. Otherwise I'd go down with or without him."

You brush your nose against his jaw, humming quietly as your chest vibrates against his.

"Good to know."

"Don't be going getting yourself assaulted. Won't let that happen to you." He mumbles.

"Me or him, Grant?"

"Don't do that to me." He groans, watching as you bat your lashes at him. "You're both important."

"Don't go testing me, blondie." You hum.

Curly glances at his phone, sighing as he rests his forehead on yours. "Jimmy's headed our way."

"Thought he left."

"Texted an hour ago sayin' he'd be back." He mumbles. "Wan' sit in my room, sweetheart?"

"You know the rules. He's here? I'm off." You whisper, closing your eyes as his lashes brush your skin.

"See you after finals?"

"Text me before you go?"

"Of course."

You hang out with Curly in between semesters during breaks. When he's free from the frat for the most part and planning things, he finds himself in coffee shops with you to catch up on gossip of all things. You ramble about tea you hear while working for your professor, and it makes Curly see a whole new side of some of the people on campus. It's like you have eyes and ears everywhere since you're helping the professors out.

"And then she ended up taking a break." You tap the keyboard, humming. "She'll be back next year, but we'll be gone by then, so, you know."

"Because the dude knocked her up?"

"I'm surprised she chose to keep it, but I mean, if she wants it, then so be it." You press the straw to your lips, humming to yourself. "Lovely tea place. How'd you find it?"

"One of the guys' girlfriend. Told me this place has great tea." He hums. "Not overbrewed at all, huh?"

"Nice and aromatic." You kick your legs under the table. "How've you been? Survived finals?"

"Yeah. The usual."

"How dependable."

"Yeah?"

"Shame no one knows how you really are." You hum. "Quite charming, nonetheless."

"You're speaking in book again."

"Alright, Grant. Sorry I wanted to be poetic for a sec. My condolences for my use of language."

"Now you sound even worse."

You click your tongue at him. "I like you this way."

"Rude?"

"Honest." You hum. "You've always got that goody two shoes smile on your face when you're on campus. It's strange. I know you want to sink those hands into my neck and choke me out every now and then."

"In public is insane."

"Your fault for taking me here. I offered my apartment."

Curly raises a brow at you, and you hum. "Complexity builds character."

"My brothers beg to differ."

"Where's Jimmy, by the way? He's usually around during breaks."

"Decided to take a solo trip. Builds character, or something." Curly hums.

"We should do a road trip." You glance at your phone. "Go around the area. Find a national park and go camping."

"Aren't you gonna get cold?"

"We'll survive." You raise a brow at him. "We could huddle for warmth, even."

"You implying sex?"

"You pervert..." You gasp, holding a hand over your mouth. "No. I was implying cuddling, but considering that your brain went straight to the gutter, I vote no road trip."

"A day trip down south would be nice."

"We could go to the city."

"Oh, that too." You scroll on your phone. "Tomorrow?"

"How about the beach?"

You glance at Curly, and he laughs.

"Please?"

"I hate you, Grant."

"Love to see you with your tits out."

"Oh, god. Fratboys."

But the truth is that Curly knows exactly what's going on at all times. You admit he's part of the problem. You keep him around because he's fun to be around. Down to do most things. Not a horrible person — a person. Not morally good or bad. There exists no pure saint or pure sinner. Anyone who presents that way is suspicious enough to warrant questions. You keep Curly around because he's not a horrible person. Only issue is with his best friend.

He's sure you'd try to cling onto your best friend if it was all allegations and no charges too, but you can't afford the same for Jimmy. The gender difference and lack of security you felt whenever he was around was more than enough to scramble any sense of security you felt with Curly. He understands that.

He wonder if it's the lesser of two evils — friends with a liar or abuser?

You'd choose a liar, but he supposes for himself it's one foot in both.

Well, not that you're the accuser.

Curly starts the new semester without you but makes time to study with you nonetheless, humming to himself as you invite him into the apartment, scrunching your nose when he smells of a workout and kick him out to come back another time. He complies, frowning at you when you shoot him an apologetic smile, and he nods. He understands. He has a persona to keep up around your roommates, and he also has an image to upkeep for the school, or whatever.

It makes him crack a little. Seep under the mask just a little. He doesn't know where the ego comes from, but he doesn't appreciate it.

He scrubs at it in the shower, and he reminds himself that it is not who he is.

He had to work to get where he was. He doesn't get to act like he's better than people.

"Ego is really only for... people who have nothing." You mumble, stirring your drink.

"Yeah? I mean sometimes I get egotistical, but I have to remind myself that I'm not who I am." You hum. "I worked to get here. Everyone works to be who they are. If they don't... then they aren't who they are."

"Now that's something new."

"I have never had an original thought in my life." You glance at the girls that step up to the table and go quiet.

Curly deals with them. He knows you can hold your ground, but they're not people you know, so they're not people you should have to deal with. He prefers to keep you away from them, even if they come knocking to the table the two of you have in the coffee shop. He's seen her at a party or two. Probably a second year looking to date a hot fratboy so she can say she dated one in college. Nothing Curly hasn't seen.

"Why are you here with her again? Curly, I really did expect you to be better at choosing... study dates." She eyes you, and Curly watches you smile.

Inhale, exhale, stare.

"If you wanted a date you could have just asked." You offer, voice light with mirth as she blinks at you.

"You! I'm not some cheap whore, you know?!"

"Didn't say that." You hum. "Unless you'd like to sit with us? Don't see a bookbag, though."

"In my car!"

"Want' come study with us? You can pull a chair—"

"Speaking of chairs. This one's uncomfortable. You mind if we switch spots?" Curly offers you a way out, and you hum.

"Where'd you have in mind?"

"I'm kind of hungry, so I vote the diner."

"Wanna camp there?"

"Too late to camp."

"Fair." You mumble. "We can figure it out when we get on your car."

"Come on." He offers you a hand, and while you raise a brow, you still take it, letting him squeeze your hands gently as he ushers you off.

"If that reaches Jimmy's ears I'm shooting him point blank."

"It won't. Jimmy wouldn't touch what's mine. He's not stupid."

"Sure feels like he is sometimes." You mumble. "What's yours? Am I yours, Grant?"

He squeezes your hand. "Are you not?"

"Oh, I wouldn't go there if I were you."

"And why not?"

"Cuz you're not getting anywhere close to me with that shitty best friend of yours."

Curly finds that maybe you really are just dangling him on a string. Swing him close on some days, swing him out on others. You cancel a study date for girls night with your housemate and Curly tells you to send photos (you never do). But it's fine because when you do finally meet up it's close enough to Valentine's that the coffee shops have all of the heart decorations up and Curly's got his hand over yours and he's asking you if you'd like to be his date to the party on Valentine's.

"I don't know, Curly." You mumble.

"Please? You mentioned your roommate would like to experience a full-fledged frat party at least once, so it'd be nice to bring her to our biggest one."

"I'd have to chaperone her."

"I'll keep an eye out for her." He mumbles, tapping the back of your hand.

"Will you?"

Curly does not.

The party rolls around and he keeps everything organized, searching everyone, and patting Jimmy down, going as far as raising a brow at his hat and swiping it off to shake a little. He lets Jimmy go with two pats to the back and then tosses everything into the safe, humming. He loses track of some things as people roll in, and he welcomes your housemate. He gets distracted with you, though, your lips brushing his under the lights as you tilt your head and ask him what's going on in his pretty head.

"Just you, sweetheart."

"Just me?"

"Just you." He sighs, resting his forehead on yours as you hum. "Does it always take a party to get you so vulnerable like this?"

"Maybe it's 'cause I'm your date tonight."

"Or maybe you're just irresistable in the awful frathouse lighting." He whispers, thumb finding your bottom lip as you part them for him. "Yeah?"

"Mhm." You hum. "You gon' kiss me, Grant?"

"God, sweetheart." He mumbles, lips brushing yours as you lean in, and he swears he's gonna get his fill of you until—

"Prez! Couple stumbled into a room."

"God, fucking hell." He groans, straightening up as he looks to the side. "Couldn't have picked a worse time."

"Sorry 'bout the cockblocking." The guy glances at Curly make his way up the stairs, and you shake your head.

You wonder where Anya's wandered off to.

Curly kicks the couple out, and he glances at Jimmy's locked door.

He knocks twice.

He thinks he hears a muffled cry when he knocks, but the music downstairs makes it hard to tell.

He knocks a third time.

It's silent.

A fourth.

Nothing.

Then, he heads downstairs.

Maybe you're still here— if you haven't stumbled off while half drunk, that is.

Curly never fully got the story from you afterward. You had stumbled home and found your housemate missing, calling Curly to check the house, and Curly had found your housemate in one of the spare bedrooms in the house, knocking and entering, letting you know where she was.

"You alright?"

Your housemate, closes her eyes, holding her head as he grumbles.

"My head feels like it's splitting open. I don't remember anything..." She mumbles.

"You alright?"

"Fine. Just sore all over." She mumbles.

"Want me to walk you back?"

Your housemate squints at Curly, and then checks her phone.

Curly assumes she dials you.

"Hey... yeah, just sore. Everything hurts. Is that supposed to happen? Curly's offering to walk me home. Should he— alright. Yeah. Yeah. I'll let him know. See you in a bit."

Curly tilts his head, and your housemate nods.

"Mind driving me instead? My legs really hurt."

"Of course. You need me to help you?"

"Should be... alright." She mumbles.

You thank Curly for taking her home, brows furrowed, giving him a pointed look that he seems to understand.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone." You mumble, holding her forearms as you lead her in. "Thank you for driving her here, Grant."

"Anytime. You two stay safe."

You nod.

And then you go MIA.

You stop responding to his texts and calls, distance that he had tried closing in on back between the two of you seemingly gone overnight. You tell him weekends are off limits again, and you offer limited explanations for why. Maybe you're just busy. Or, you've finally become fed up with the fact that Curly can't really pick and choose and drop people that he should really drop. Either way, he doesn't really judge you for it.

He can kind of see it.

Yet, life moves on, and he busies himself with his own things.

Maybe time can heal this.

But he texts you updates — parties hosted by the frat, and you tell him you'll show to the next one.

He asks even if Jimmy's there — you tell him especially if Jimmy's there.

He doesn't really want to know why exactly you've gotten a specific change of mind, but he doesn't pry further. It's really not his place. Besides, he should be happy that you're agreeing to to his best friend of all things.

You show up different, though. Low cut dress and makeup done — Curly doubts he's ever seen you put so much effort into meeting up with him.

"New hair?" Curly pinches at the wig on your head, tilting his head and raising a brow.

"I'll talk to you in a bit, Grant." You hum, patting his chest twice and disappearing into the crowd. "Be good, now."

Curly nods, letting you wander off as he continues to greet guests at the door.

Most people don't cause too many problems. You learn to figure your way through the crowd, quiet sauntering as you spot Jimmy, smearing your lipstick as you tug your dress a little lower, reaching to trace your fingers down Jimmy's arms, distracting him immediately from the girl he was previously talking to.

You glance at the back door before batting your lashes at Jimmy.

"And who might you be, doll?"

"Just wanted your number." You hum, mustering a smile as he raises a brow.

"It's usually the other way around. Haven't heard the rumors?"

"Maybe I'm just into a good fuck, not a good man." You tap his bicep gently, and he hands you his phone.

"Do me a favor, would you? Save your number as doll in my contacts so I remember. Password's six sixes."

"Oh, of course." You hum, clicking on his phone as he goes back to chatting with the other girl, and you scroll through his photos. You send a handful to yourself, deleting the chat history, and check your phone for the photos. Close enough.

"You figure it out, doll? Or did you accidentally lose the page?"

"Seems like I did..." You mumble. "Sorry, not super good with electronics. Such a clutz move of me, huh?"

"I'll help ya, doll." He wraps a hand around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as his hand brushes your lower stomach, free hand clicking through the apps on his phone. "There y'a go."

"Thank you." You jut out your bottom lip, clicking in a random phone number, Jimmy's hand sliding higher and higher until they practically grope at your tits, and you pause for a second.

Alright. Seems drunk enough.

And then all you see is red.

Jimmy's dragged by his hair as you throw him out the back door into the empty parking spot, your knuckles cracking with each punch as he fights back, the tip of your heel digging into his thigh as his screams catch the attention of the rest of the party. You don't know how many punches you've reached but it's five whole minutes where everyone is stuck watching in horror as you practically crush his jaw under your fist and Jimmy is stuck there crying. He's too drunk to know who you are, and you don't care if this gets you jailed, you're taking the chance.

The satisfying crunch of his jaw under your fists and the blooms of red on his face only feed into the satisfaction, and you wonder if he'll ever think of this when he drugs the next poor girl to approach him thinking that he's not as bad as the rumors make him out to be, and it gives you this sick sense of satisfaction. You can ice your knuckles and wear gloves because it's still cold enough for it. Jimmy can't hide from his classes forever, and it definitely helps that you've got a wonderfully glued wig on that you could just burn when you get home and no one would fucking know that you were laughing while beating the frat's vice president to the ground.

Your knuckles are bloody when you're halfway through, and there's a fight outside the party that Curly has to rip through the crowd to get to.

He's surprised to find that it's you, and he pulls you off of Jimmy before stepping to ask you what happened, and you pant, fistfuls of Jimmy's hair weaved through your fingers as your chest heaves, and there is so much red in your eyes that Curly wonders if you're seeing anything at all, and he runs his hands down your bare arms as you breathe.

Jimmy stays on the ground.

"Hey, what happened?"

"Asshole grabbed a fistful of my tits."

Jimmy scoffs from the ground. "You're the one who—"

You curse him out as your heel reaches to crush his balls, and Curly holds your thigh to stop you.

"Hey!"

You look up at Curly, eye twitching as you breathe, taking two steps back and glaring at Jimmy.

"Sweetheart." Curly tries, and you look up at him, eyes vile as you scoff.

"Watch your mouth, Grant." You point a finger at his chest, humming with your head tilted. "Don't you go thinking you're any better because you don't do it. You're still doing nothing about it."

And you're off, knuckles bloody and hair between your fingers.

You don't receive disciplinary action because half of the party was too plastered to remember who was fighting who. Besides, Jimmy didn't even remember who was punching him.

You don't look Curly in the eye for a week, and Curly wonders really if it was at all worth it. First week of spring of all days. He understands the party is for the sake of the brothers, but he really'd rather not be stuck cleaning up after Jimmy when they were barely into the semester. And a matter of assaulting you of all things.

He apologizes on Jimmy's behalf after class, and you blink at Curly.

"If you know he's doing all these things, why do you keep him in his position?"

"I've just know him for so long..."

"That's not an excuse, Grant." You spit.

It's dark out.

Curly knows it's not an excuse. He knows that he shouldn't be excusing Jimmy's behavior, and especially not when his best friend had just grabbed you by the tits at a party while drunk out of his mind. Drunk or not, he shouldn't be doing that anyway. But Curly doesn't want to acknowledge it. Acknowleding that Jimmy was a horrible person would be like admitting that Curly doesn't have good taste in friends, and he'd really rather not be—

"I'm sorry for what he did at the party, but it really wasn't—"

"Oh, don't worry. Only one of the punches was for grabbing me by the tits." You open your phone, texting someone. "The other punches were for something else."

"What... what are people accusing him for now?"

"Nothing much. Just the usual. With evidence this time, though."

Curly raises a brow at you, unimpressed as you raise a brow back.

"What kind of evidence?"

"Roommate got pregnant, evidence."

"And you think it's Jimmy because?"

"Tracks with the frat party we were at."

"You just think it's Jimmy because you hate him."

"My emotions have nothing to do with how shitty of a person he is."

"He's not the type to take it that far—"

"Is that all that matters to you, Curly? Is your best friend more important than the law?"

"And what evidence do you have?"

"My friend's word of mouth? The person that she was last seen with being him taking her upstairs to his room? Curly—"

"Not, Curly." He mumbles.

"You don't deserve to be called Grant if you're not gonna be a good person, Curly."

The name sounds like poison spread on your lips as you scoff.

"Are you going to defend Jimmy with your life?"

"It's just that you hate him so much, so it's easy to just assume that it's him. I know him—"

"Sure, yeah, and I know my roommate. She's not the type to lie."

"Yeah, but Jimmy isn't the type to take things that far."

"Is that so?"

"I know so."

"Alright. Alright, Curly. I should go to another party and get raped by Jimmy and then we can prove it, right?"

"He's not going to touch you. I won't let him."

"So you'll let him touch other women?"

"He doesn't do that."

"You think so?"

"Sweetheart."

"Don't sweetheart me. There's nothing sweet about how shitty of a person your friend is."

"Are you sure it's not just because you hate him?"

"It's not." You swallow, gritting your teeth as your brows furrow and you take a deep breath. "I stay away from Jimmy, not hate him. I didn't hate him until he raped my roommate at the party."

"What evidence do you even have that it's him?"

"DNA? Blood tests? Timeline? Video footage?"

"It could all be made up. Why are you trying to ruin his li—"

You slap him.

The slap echoes into the night, and you breathe, chest heaving as your brows furrow impossibly more, annoyance visible as you groan. It's like Curly refuses to get the point. Curly knows you're being honest. You wouldn't slander Jimmy if you didn't have any evidence, but his mind is stuck on the feeling of your hand making contact with his cheek so harshly, and he wonders if he's really doing anything at all by just watching it all go down. Jimmy's awful but he couldn't have been able to drug your roommate. He pat him down — no. Jimmy had chosen a hat for the occasion with a compartment he had show Curly once. It absolutely could be Jimmy, but that would mean Curly made a mistake and—

Curly holds his cheek, blinking slowly as he looks at you, and you're frantically tapping on your phone, the muffled clicks of your finger against the screen the only thing until you're holding the phone to his face with a series of photos that he can only assume were taken by Jimmy.

It's morbid.

Curly feels sick to the stomach at the sight of your housemate crying into her hands and trying to hide her face, the unmistakable sound of Jimmy's voice behind the camera, and something twists uncomfortably in Curly's stomach.

"Do something." You speak, voice steady and eerily calm as Curly stares at the photos you've somehow managed to acquire on your phone, hand still on his cheek. Suddenly, the sting no longer stings and all that's left is a ringing in his ears. "You're the president, Curly. Do something before I get both of you expelled and ruin his life."

"He couldn't have—"

"His DNA was found in her. I don't know what else you want me to prove to you." You let out a laugh, looking to the side, bitterness instantly visible on your face. "Paternity test came back with an exact DNA match of the hair I yanked from his hair the other night at the party while he got his grimy hands all over my tits now Grant fucking Curly tell me if you're going to do something about that shitty best friend of yours unless you want me to end both of your university careers right now!"

"Why..." Curly mumbles, shoulders sinking as he glances at you. "are you telling me this?"

"The head of the fraternity is responsible for all of the members of its chapter. If I submit all of this evidence against Jimmy while he's in the frat, the fact that she had gotten raped at a frat-hosted party will spread and you'll get expelled for mismanagement of your frat. I know I send you mixed signals and refuse to be seen in public with you because of your shitty best friend you do nothing about, but I do care about you, Curly." You pause. "If I release all of this information while he's still in the frat, you'll have no way out, especially as the president. If you expel him first, then you'll still somehow make your way out with only your reputation taken a hit. People might even blame Jimmy for keeping it all from you."

Curly looks into your eyes and then at the picture on your phone, and he closes his eyes.

"Give me a week. Will you take nothing less than removal from the frat?"

"Nothing less. I refuse to let him continue to stay in the frat. You are responsible for them all. You only escape scathed if you remove him from the frat."

"Will—" He swallows. "I'll save that question for after I deal with this. I'm glad this is early enough in the semester, god. What about his contracts?"

"Do you think he deserves it after raping my best friend?" You bite. "What if it had been me? Would you have been able to look at me the same after his hands had been all over me and he assaulted me? That his dick had been balls deep in me while I cried for him to let go?"

"But it wasn't—"

"It shouldn't make a difference who it was. A rape is a rape, and if you don't do anything, then I suppose we're better off as strangers, Curly."

You don't text Curly back at all.

You move from your seat next to him in class, and while he knows you most likely won't talk to him until the vote to remove Jimmy from the frat goes through, but it's a painful handful of weeks without you. It hurts him to call the other board members and tell them of the situation, evidence presented as he presents even the DNA match, and it becomes apparent that no one is going out unscathed of this situation of the frat. A lighter blow is better than a total blow, they seem to agree. Then Jimmy is contacted about the situation — Curly knows him better than anyone, so the board had to know before Jimmy, and when Jimmy's calling upon their friendship of the entirety of college, Curly shakes his head and tells him that it didn't matter if they had been friends for so long. It was either they both go down or just Jimmy on his own, and it was apparent that Curly didn't want to, but had to.

Then Curly finds out just how ugly Jimmy can get, thrashing and yelling as the other members of the board hold him back after he punched Curly, and Curly just wonders how he had stayed blind for so long.

He kind of deserved the slap from you both.

"You think just because you're hot as hell and you've got some chick slung around your arm that it erases that you were nothing before me? You wouldn't be here without me!" Jimmy yells, and Curly's shoulders sink as he stares at Jimmy. "You were nothing."

Shut down. Shut down. The same way you do. Let his shoulders sink, inhale, exhale, stare into the void.

"Jimmy. Maybe you introduced me to the frat, but I am the president because of my own efforts." Curly steps up to Jimmy, and he wonders for that brief moment that perhaps this is the kind of control that he could only have in his position. Jimmy looks incredibly small like this. And suddenly, Curly seems to kind of understand how terrifying it must have been for both you and your housemate. Jimmy looks powerless for once. "You are no longer welcome here. I'll give you a week to find somewhere to settle, but you are no longer welcome here. Rape or assault of any kind is not welcome nor swept under the rug in our frat. Get out."

"You—"

"You are no longer in power. Get out."

It'll hit the local news tomorrow, and once the local news is hit, you'll submit everything to the chancellor and then Jimmy will be done for.

Curly doesn't want to think if it's the right thing or not. It is the right thing to do, but he had thrown away one of his friends as a result. Jimmy had been important regardless of what Curly thought, but he had also been a horrible person, so the choice was coming sooner or later.

It takes two days for news of Jimmy's history of both assault and sexual assault to emerge, and it takes less than a full week for Jimmy to be expelled. First expulsion in near two decades at the university, and Curly's hand shakes when he texts you. He had done it. You had done it. It was done. He had done... the right thing.

You call him instead.

"You alright?"

Curly stares at the news on his laptop, and he swallows.

"Not really."

"You want me to come over?"

"Will you?"

"He's gone." You hum. "Or you can come over. Everyone went home for the weekend."

"Is... she alright?"

"Much better. Thank you, Grant."

There's a considerable silence on the line before Curly is speaking up, voice quietest you've ever heard it. "Do you think I did the right thing?"

"I think you did the bravest thing that no frat president has the balls to." You hum. "You did great, Grant."

He rests his face in his hand, going quiet as he breathes, chest shaking. It was scary. Despite how dependable everyone considered him, Curly had never once considered himself to be dependable all that much. There is still a nagging fear that carried over from high school — the concern for his body and him from the doctor quiet in the back of his mind. Dependable. His facade had worked, but it hurt to have to actually speak up on it.

"I'm. That was." He breathes. "Can I be honest?"

"Always, Grant."

"I never want to have to do that again." His voice shakes, and he holds his forehead.

"You did great. You were very brave, Grant. You want anything to drink?"

"Can you bring me a..." He pauses.

"Two beers. I need a drink after all of that process too." You mumble. "God, those meetings were draining."

"We.. did it."

"Thank heavens we did."

You head over with two beers, bottles clinking as he holds out his car keys, streetlights flickering as he hums.

"Wan' sit on the truck?"

"That'd be nice." You flick the bottlecap off, handing him one beer as you bite off the other.

"Your poor teeth."

"It'll live." You hum, pressing the bottle to your lips as he exhales, sitting back in the truck bed.

"You alright?"

"Hm?"

"You were... that night." He mumbles.

"You can say it, Curly. I got groped. It's not that deep." You raise a brow at him.

"Yeah." He furrows his brows. "Was it really necessary?"

"You were technically half-right to accuse me that I hated Jimmy so I was convicting him of raping my roommate, but it was really a moment where the opportunity come on its own. Besides, much better to stay cleaner as a frat. As clean as you can get, anyway." You raise a brow at the bottle in hand.

"First expulsion in over a decade..." Curly groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He was my best friend."

"Also an asshat."

"Yes. but —"

"No buts. He should've kept it in his pants." You raise a brow at him. "He punched you, for fuck's sake."

"Yeah. He... he was a shitty person. I do mourn the loss of a friend, though. Not necessarily him, but, you know."

"Yeah, that's fair." You lean back, glancing up at the sky.

No star in sight. Too polluted.

"Do we just keep moving?"

"Just keep moving." You kick your legs over his, and he sighs, exhaling gently as he presses his palm on your calf, squeezing.

"Join our party tomorrow?"

"Might as well sleep over in your room, then—" You pause. "No, the bathrooms are nasty."

"I'm in the master."

"Oh, in that case..." You mumble, letting Curly run his hand up your calf, hum on his lips as he leans back. "You got spare clothes?"

"Oh, sweetheart. You don't even need to ask."

Curly wonders if you're only being so sweet now that Jimmy's gone. Maybe in a way it was your plan to ruin that man's life. Not that you'd do all that over a man. He wonders if you'd ever ruin his life like that. He might thank you for it — not that you will. You've done more than you could imagine and he's learned more off of you than he could admit. It'd be embarrassing to tell you, maybe. He might just have to get drunk enough for it.

Though, the sight of you drunk is a lot funnier.

You settle on his lap, closing your eyes with a hard seltzer in hand, tilting your head as you stare at the rest of the party.

Curly hardly knows where to put his hands, blinking slowly and quietly as you settle your head on his collar, blinking up at him, lashes fluttering over a shirt that's far too tight for his life but his brothers insisted on him wearing, and he wonders if any of whatever was going on was even working. You don't seem to notice when he's wearing clothes to show off his body, preferring to tilt your head and meet his eyes instead.

"You alright?" He looks down at you, and you hum.

"Mhm. Pregamed before the party." You trace circles on his chest, letting your lashes flutter over his chest. "Always smells awful in here."

"Always does. It's why I didn't like inviting you."

"Liar. I've gone to so many this year." You throw a glance at the rest of the party, and Curly hums. "Sure you like it better when you've got me dangling off of your arm, though."

"Yeah, but it's not like you're mine or anything. Could be..."

"So I'm a common whore?"

"I didn't say that."

"You seem to think that I'm playing you, still." You crane your neck to wave at another member of the frat, and Curly swallows slowly. Your hand moves lower and lower until your fingers are brushing his lower stomach, and Curly sucks in a breath out of instinct, earning a gentle frown on your lips. "Stop sucking."

"It's gotten soft."

"It's called a dad bod." You brush your fingers over his lower stomach, and he exhales as you hum happily. "I like you however you are."

"You like me?"

"You never quite seem to believe me when I tell you." You crane your neck upward, brushing noses with Curly as he hums.

"I can never really tell."

"I know. All your frat knows." You laugh, voice airy as he hums quietly.

"I doubt you'll remember this in the morning."

"Then you'll just have to remind me." You hum quietly, palm sliding under his shirt as you brush over his stretch marks.

"You don't mind them?"

"We match... just tell me you love me in the morning." You close your eyes, and Curly finds a hand on your waist as he continues to watch the rest of the party.

Curly thinks you might actually like him.

Despite it all, Curly does like you. He doubts the world "like" would even encapsulate just how enraputred he is with you. Pretty, pretty girl. He thinks — chin resting on your head and sun peeking past the blinds in your bed. He gets why you like your bed a lot more. It's much cozier than his, and your back pressed to his chest only serves to have him groan when you shift.

He doesn't quite remember how he ended up in your bed, only that he's got his head buried in your back as you stretch your arms over your head.

"g'mornin'."

"Mornin' to you too, Grant." You grumble, getting up to rest on your elbow as you turn around.

"Aren't you a sight in the morning." He mumbles into your skin, and you yawn.

"You know what isn't?"

"Me?"

"Your breath." You push him off of you, Curly's laugh rumbling in his chest as you sigh, opening your phone. "You want brunch?"

"How could I ever say no to you, sweet'eart?"

"Oh, god. Man so sleepy he reverts to his old accent."

"You love me."

"Debatable." You run your hand through his hair, watching as he rests his chin on your chest. "What'you looking at me like that for?"

"Thinkin' 'bout how you're so pretty." He mumbles, closing his eyes as you scratch at his scalp. "Brunch?"

"I'll call in."

"No, let me." He reaches behind him for the phone, humming. "Same place as usual?"

"Yeah."

"Go on, then. Get ready while I make our reservation."

You press a quick hum to his forehead, getting out of bed ot get ready.

Curly likes this a lot better.

He finds that it's much better to get closer to you, and it almost feels like a reward for the years he had toiled away in college. Something sweet as nectar on his tongue when you give him a quick kiss between tasks, his shoulders sunk and relaxed as he watches you get ready for dates, humming when you complain about how he's a little unshaven. He'll do it for you. He always will. He'll let you rub at his chin when he finishes shaving, humming happily to himself when you press a quick kisso to his jaw.

Warm and cozy. He likes you quite a bit.

Quite a bit is an understatement, he thinks.

You look pretty at all angles, but he finds that some sick part of him finds contentment and satisfaction when you're under him — bare to the eye and touch.

He never lasts long with you looking like this, lashes fluttering as he rasps at the sound your pretty pussy makes for him as he slides in, breath heavy as he stills, your nails digging into his shoulders as you match your panting with his.

"God, dammit, Grant, move." You sing for him, and Curly groans in response.

"Sound beautiful singin' like that, angel."

"Don't you want me to sing for you more? Your name like a prayer on mine lips?"

"Don't tempt me." He holds your hips in place when you try to shift, brows furrowed as he exhales. "Gon' just flood that pussy if you move this quick."

"Never fucked a woman before?"

"You'd be surprised at how little I pulled up until college." He pinches at your waist, bucking his hips into yours as you squirm, stars in your eyes as your nails reach for his wrists, finding something to ground yourself as he gradually speeds up. "Loved playing dumb and watching girls give up. No one likes a dense man."

"I seem t— ah." Your lashes flutter, head thrown back as Curly practically drills into you, holding your head in his arms as your quiet pants register in his ear, causing him to twitch inside of you.

"You don't like men who play dumb, sweetheart. You're the one who," He rolls his hips, earning a particular whine from your lips, and his head spins. "you're the one who plays dumb. Stringing me along for so long. Have to thank you, though. Glad you fixed me."

"Fixed? Fixed ya how?" You pull at his hair, and he groans.

"Oh, sweetheart. You don't even know."

"Really?" You tempt, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, craning your neck to avoid Curly's as he lets his teeth graze your pulse point.

"Gon' bite you. Puncture wounds in your neck and leave red that clings for days." He rumbles, exhaling into your neck as your nails dig into his back. "Felt you clench right up. Would you be into that? Marked with my teeth despite your distaste of association with me just months ago?"

"It wasn't distaste of— you—" You heave, curling into his chest and voice shaking. "You know w-why."

"He's gone now, and I get you all to myself." He mumbles. "Get to bring you over... and fuck you dumb on this cock in my room."

"Hate you." You gasp, lashes fluttering as he groans.

"No y' don't."

"Hate that fuckboy talk you keep," You yank at his hair, forcing his head back as you tilt your head. "spitting out. You're not my sweet boy, now are you?"

"Not when I'm buried balls deep in you." He forces out, thumb finding your clit as you jolt. "There she is..."

You let him fuck you through your orgasm, nails dug into his shoulders as you leave marks, his quiet moaning rippling against your skin as you throw your head back and feel him pulse inside of you.

Curly thinks he's reached some kind of ascension. Raptured in the moment, head spinning deliriously at the feeling of you practically milking him for all he has. This is what he's been waiting for, he supposes. You're singing his name like a prayer, eyes rolled so far back he's worried they'll get stuck like his ma used to tell him, but, oh, heavens be dammed. If this is how he goes then so be it.

The bliss will bleed and his skin will burn, but he doesn't really mind it.

"You're wonderful, sweetheart." He mumbles, forehead pressed to yours in the afterglow, and you'll call him a sap and sigh.

"You think I'm a sap?"

"I know you are." You mumble, thumbs finding his cheek as he closes his eyes, basking in your touch. "I like it."

"Well, I like you."

"Sap."

"Your sap."

Curly finds that maybe its a little twisted that he had to toss his friend for you, but really, who is he to complain when you're so pliable under his hands? You prefer him to be pliable as well. It helps the two of you communicate and work better.

"You think I can keep the stubble after we graduate?"

"Mm, don't want burns when you eat me out." You hum.

"You gon' make me give that up to keep my beard?"

"You'd just have to step up your aftercare."

"I can do that."

"Maybe focus on your job after graduation first."

Curly closes his eyes, humming into your bare shoulder. "Won't y' come with me?"

"We'll see."

"I'll make sure it's a yes." He mumbles.

"We'll see when we get there."

He'll make sure it's a yes when he gets there.

But, until then, he supposes he'll just have to stay dangled on your finger like a pretty little accessory.

[fatecantstopme]

Better Together

Pairing: Rafael Barba x reader

Summary: Barba acts like he hates you because it's the only way he can keep his cool in your presence. Things come to a head and you call him out on it...

Warnings: cursing, Rafael is a bit of a dick at first. Use of nicknames (baby, cariño, querida, etc.). SMUT, oral (M and F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V)

A/N: Spanish translations in brackets/italics after each sentence.

cariño/querida: sweetheart/dear/darling/baby/etc.

por favor: please

qué: what

hermosa: beautiful/gorgeous

"Right...and what makes you qualified to make that determination?"

You glared at him. "Eight years of education and ten years of practice."

"Fine, but how long did you actually talk to him?" he countered.

"Four hours."

"So now you're an expert in his mental health?"

You groaned. "He belongs in a psychiatric facility, Barba. Not a prison."

"I disagree. He raped and murdered five women."

"I'm not defending his actions, but I'm telling you he's incapable of understanding the consequences of his actions."

"She's right, counselor," Olivia Benson cut in. "I got the same feeling she did when I first talked to him."

Rafael Barba let out an annoyed huff. "Fine. What do you propose?"

"Offer him a deal," she suggested. "Send him where he can get the help he needs."

Barba nodded, expression still slightly annoyed. "Fine." With that, he walked out of the precinct, presumably to go write up a deal.

As soon as he was out of ear shot, you turned to your friend and colleague. "He argues with me for ten minutes straight, but you tell him the same damn thing and he immediately agrees?"

Olivia shrugged. "You know how he is."

"Pompous, arrogant, rude, and downright insulting?"

She laughed. "All of the above, but he's also a pretty damn good ADA."

You sighed. "I would absolutely love to disagree with you, but you're not wrong. Part of me hates that he's so good at his job. And I hate his smug face and his attitude and those damn three piece suits he looks so goddamn good in," you finished your ramble with a groan.

"Maybe if you told him you thought he was hot, he'd be nicer to you," Olivia said with a wink.

"I hate you."

She laughed. "No you don't."

"Fine, I don't, but I will do no such thing. He quite clearly despises me."

"Does he?"

"Does who what?" Nick Amaro asked as he entered the squad room.

"Does Barba hate (Y/N)?" Olivia asked.

Nick chuckled. "Without a doubt."

"See?!" you said smugly.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "One of these days you're going to have to talk to him. Tell him off for being such an ass to you all the time."

"Now that I agree with," Nick cut in.

"If he pushes the right buttons, I will."

**********

Little did you know that two days later, Barba would push the exact right button.

Olivia, Nick, Amanda, Fin, and yourself were gathered in the squad room discussing your latest case. You had two dead girls in two days and 1PP was already breathing down your necks.

You were going over the profile with the team when Barba walked in. "I know it sounds crazy, guys, but I believe the perp is a girl...probably the same age as the victims."

"Why?" Fin asked.

As you started to explain your reasoning, to include the lack of sexual assault, the relationship between the two girls, and the anger clearly present in the attacks, Barba cut you off with a harsh laugh.

"You think a 10 year old girl is capable of inflicting that kind of trauma?" he interjected. "There's no way."

You took a deep breath in through your nose and exhaled from your mouth before responding. You needed those ten seconds to calm yourself so you didn't murder him. "Were you ever a 10 year old girl?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Obviously not."

"Are you a forensic psychologist?"

"Again, no."

"Have you been working violent sex crimes for 10 years?"

"No..."

"Then be quiet and listen," you finished harshly.

You'd never snapped at him quite so intensely before and he was taken aback. He was also very aware that he may have taken it a little too far this time. He'd made it a point to keep you at arm's length (or farther) for the past 6 months, and he was belatedly realizing he may have been too cruel.

You finished your profile, answering the questions posed by the rest of the squad, before everyone went about their assigned duties.

Barba announced he was going back to his office to update the DA and you were thankful to be rid of him.

"Maybe you were right, (Y/N)," Olivia said softly. "He either hates you or he hates shrinks."

"Likely both."

"I'm proud of you for clapping back," Amanda said warmly. "Someone's gotta put that guy in his place every once in a while."

You smiled mirthlessly. "Once this case is over, I may have more to say to him, but for now, let's focus on finding the person who killed those girls."

**********

Three days later and you had your suspect in custody. You'd been right in your assessment of the perp...it turned out to be a 10 year old girl who had been relentlessly teased and bullied by the two victims for an entire year. The girl finally snapped and killed them both in a blind rage.

After hearing all of the terrible things that had been done to her, you felt sorry for the girl. You understood why she'd killed those girls, even if you didn't condone it.

"Hey, (Y/N/N)," Fin called. "We're going out for drinks. My treat."

"I think I'll take a rain check guys...I've got something I need to do."

"Awww no fun," Amanda teased.

Olivia gave you a look, but you smiled at her reassuringly. She took it to mean you were okay, so she followed the others out.

You'd decided to pay a very special visit to a certain ADA...

You arrived at his office 20 minutes later, and you belatedly realized you probably should have checked to see if he was even there still. It was already after 6pm, but you hoped since he was a workaholic, he would be unaware of the late hour.

When you reached his office door, you found yourself taking a deep breath. You started to question yourself and whether this was a good idea, but then you thought about the way he'd been treating you and you got a burst of courage.

You knocked on his door and waited. You heard a slightly annoyed "Come in", so you opened the door and stepped into his office.

Barba looked up from the paperwork he was buried in, a look of surprise ghosting over his face. "Dr. (Y/L/N)...to what do I owe the pleasure?"

You shut the door behind you and took a step towards his desk. "Do you have a problem with me?"

"Excuse me?" he asked in surprise.

"Do you have a problem with me, specifically, or is it psychologists in general?"

"I don't have a problem with psychologists."

"So it's me, got it. Do you mind telling me what the hell I did to you?"

He had the grace to look sheepish. "You didn't do anything to me."

"Then why do you treat me like I'm some sort of imbecile?"

"I...I never intended to make you feel that way," he said honestly.

"Really? How did you intend to make me feel? You belittle me, insult my abilities and my intelligence, you're unnecessarily rude to me in front of my colleagues..." you trailed off.

He rose from his seat and came around the front of his desk. His expression was unreadable, but his shoulders had slumped slightly. If you didn't know better, you'd think he actually felt bad for the way he'd been treating you.

"You're right," he admitted. "I have treated you entirely unfairly."

It was your turn to look surprised. Out of all the things you'd expected him to say, an admission of guilt was certainly not one of them.

"I don't want you to think, for even a moment, that I don't think you're brilliant. You are the sharpest woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and you're downright phenomenal at your job."

You opened your mouth and closed it a few times before you could formulate a coherent response. "How in the hell was I supposed to know that?"

He blushed and cast his gaze to the floor. "I suppose there was no way for you to know, given the way I've treated you."

"Why, then?" you asked softly.

He sighed deeply and ran his hand over his face. "It's--complicated."

"Enlighten me, Barba. I've got time."

His green eyes raised back up to meet yours and you found yourself nearly breathless--and not for the first time. His eyes were beautiful, typically sparkling with whit and mischief; but in this moment, they shone with emotions so complex you couldn't begin to comprehend them.

"I never intended to be cruel to you, only distant. But I found that being aloof wasn't enough to keep you at bay--I needed something stronger. So...I started treating you as if I hated you. It was just easier, and perhaps safer."

"Safer?"

He nodded, but neglected to clarify. "Keeping you out of my life has become a necessity, Dr. (Y/L/N)."

His formality annoyed you, but you didn't comment on it. "Then why didn't you just tell me you didn't like me?"

He groaned and turned back to his desk to pour himself a glass of scotch. "Because it's not true, and I'm many things, but a liar isn't one of them."

"Okay, but you want nothing to do with me?"

"Exactly."

"You do understand how contradictory that sounds, correct?"

He took a long drink from his glass and leaned back against his desk. "It sounds moronic, yes, I am aware."

You debated your next words with care. You knew if you said what was on your mind, you might regret it, but you also knew if you didn't say it, you would regret it.

"When I met you, I was instantly intrigued by you," you began. "It was obvious you were highly intelligent, but you were also funny, charming, and impeccably well-dressed. It's a rare combination."

You crossed your arms and sighed. "At first, you were friendly and I quite liked you, but things between us turned icy in an instant. I didn't understand it then and I don't understand it now, but what I can tell you is it hurt me. It hurt me deeply, Barba, and it still does."

If he'd felt like an ass before, he felt 1,000 times worse now. "I never intended to hurt you," he said quietly. "You're a kind and loving soul...and you don't deserve to be treated the way I've been treating you."

"You're right," you whispered. "I don't."

He winced slightly and downed the rest of his scotch. "I am truly sorry, (Y/N). More than you'll ever know."

His use of your first name was not lost on you. You could count on one hand the number of times he'd said it and you'd reacted the same way each time. Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment, your breath caught, and your heart began to speed up.

Rafael had never noticed before...had never really paid attention to you the very few times he'd said your name, but he saw your reaction this time. For the first time since he'd met you, he began to wonder if you shared his feelings...

You quickly recovered yourself--praying he hadn't noticed. "I appreciate your apology." Your voice was slightly off pitch and you wanted to kick yourself for letting any emotion show.

"May I ask you something?" he said suddenly.

You nodded, not trusting your voice in the moment.

"You said what you thought of me when we first met--what do you think of me now?"

"Do you really want to know?"

He nodded.

You swallowed thickly. "Everything I said is true. You're a brilliant man and an even better lawyer...and you can be funny and charming, when you want to be. But that's not the Rafael Barba I get. I get the one reserved for the criminals and defense attorneys you dislike. The ones that make your skin crawl. You're pompous, arrogant, and cruel."

He closed his eyes tightly. Hearing you say what you really thought of him was much more painful than he'd anticipated.

"But I don't believe that's who you really are," you said so softly he almost didn't hear.

He looked back up at you in surprise.

"I think it's a facade you put up--a mask you wear to hide behind."

"What makes you think that?"

"Call it intuition, or perhaps training," you said with a shrug. "Either way, I am certain you really are the man I met in the beginning--not the man you've been the past several months."

"How could you have that much faith in me? After the way I've treated you..."

"Perhaps it's foolish...or maybe I just want it to be true."

He stared at you with a strange look on his face. It was as if he was trying to decide if you were playing him or being sincere. His expression slowly morphed as he realized you'd meant every word you'd said.

"May I be honest with you?" he asked.

"I want nothing less."

"Truthfully, I'm terrified of you. Absolutely, 100%, completely terrified."

Your jaw dropped slightly. Once again, he’d caught you off guard.

"You got under my skin the moment I met you and I haven't been able to get rid of you since. I've never felt like this--like I can't control my own actions or my emotions--and it's petrifying. I thought pushing you away would change how I felt, but it only intensified it. I think that's why I became crueler over time--I was angry at myself and angry with you for making me feel this way. It's not fair to you, I know, but it's the truth."

You were once again shocked to the core. You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing...if you weren't so good at reading people, you'd be convinced he was lying, but as it stood, you knew it was the raw, painful truth.

"You can't control everything, you know," you said quietly.

He laughed harshly. "God, how I wish I could."

"What are you so afraid of?"

He took a moment to answer, but once he did, the words poured out of him. "I'm afraid the way I feel about you will ruin both of our careers. I'm afraid that once you see the man behind the mask, you'll run and leave me broken. I'm afraid that we'll fall apart...that we won't stand the test of time. I'm afraid of falling so deeply in love with you that I lose myself completely. But most of all, I'm afraid that I've already screwed this up beyond repair."

For all your education and all the eloquent words you've learned in your lifetime, you found yourself stunned into complete and utter silence. No words came to mind, no coherent thoughts emerged. You stared at him and he stared at you, as the silence dragged on.

After what had to be an eternity, Rafael spoke again. "Please say something. Anything. Tell me you hate me. Tell me you never want to see my face again. Tell me you'd rather jump off a building than be with me--"

"Stop!" The intensity of your demand silenced him. "Just stop talking…I…I can't find the words I want to say, but I do know one thing: I'm not afraid."

Out of all the things you could have said, all the beautiful sentences you could have strung together, those three words were the perfect response. Fueled with sudden courage, Rafael crossed the space between the two of you in three long strides, coming to a stop a few inches from you.

With a shaking hand, he gently stroked your cheek. "May I?" he asked quietly.

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes met his and you softly begged, "Please."

He leaned into you, lips pressing against yours with soft insistence. The kiss ignited something within you--a desire so deep and powerful it almost frightened you. You grabbed ahold of his suspenders and tugged his body closer to yours as you deepened the kiss.

Rafael moaned softly against your lips, tongue pressing forward, requesting access. You obliged, lips parting to allow him entry. His hands traveled down your soft curves until they landed on your hips. He used his gentle strength to pull you flush against him, his own body backed up against his desk to support him.

You could feel his need for you in his kiss, in his touch...and in his pants. His growing erection was pressed against you, so close to where you wanted him, yet so far away.

Rafael broke the kiss for a moment. "Carmen left for the day."

"Mhmm," you hummed in response.

"But I don't want our first time together to be on the couch in my office."

"How 'bout the desk?" you teased lightly.

He groaned. "Don't think I haven't imagined it, but I'd like to take you home...do this properly--in a bed."

You stared at him for a moment. "If we stay here, it can be casual, unassuming. If I go home with you...that changes everything."

"I don't want casual. I don't want a fling. I want you--and everything that comes along with that."

You studied him closely before responding. You noted the sincerity in his voice and his expression and decided to--for once--allow your heart to lead your decision. "Take me home, Rafael," you whispered.

He breathed deeply, as if trying to control himself. It appeared that you had the same effect on him as he did on you when you called him by his first name.

He didn't say a word--you weren't even sure he could have if he'd wanted to. He simply grabbed his jacket, took your hand, and practically dragged you to the elevator. Once outside, he hailed a cab and helped you into the backseat before sliding in beside you.

As the cab began to move, you rested your hand on Rafael's thigh. He glanced at you, but didn't say anything. You were feeling bold, so you slid your hand slowly up his thigh, inching closer to his evident arousal.

When your fingertips brushed against his clothed cock, he hissed slightly. He leaned over to whisper into your ear so the cab driver wouldn't hear. "Careful, querida. O puedo perder el control [Or I may lose control]."

You inhaled sharply--something about his tone mixed with the hushed Spanish words, sent a jolt of pure arousal straight to your core.

Your reaction didn't go unnoticed by Rafael. He smirked as he discovered one of your kinks. He tucked the knowledge away for later use.

You managed to behave yourself for the rest of the short ride to his apartment, but once inside the building, all bets were off.

His lips were on yours the moment the elevator doors slid closed, pressing your body firmly against the wall. Your fingers tangled in his hair, messing up the perfect locks.

As the elevator dinged and the doors began to open, you reluctantly pulled away from each other. You saw the desperation in his beautiful green eyes and you knew the same look reflected in yours.

He wasted no time guiding you to his apartment and the moment you were both inside, he had you spun around and pressed up against the door.

“Querida,” he whispered hungrily against your lips, fingertips dancing under your shirt.

You moaned softly as you tugged harshly on his suspenders, pushing them out of the way so you could remove his shirt.

Within moments, your clothes and his were strewn across the house as he carried you to his bedroom, nothing left between you but underwear.

Rafael tossed you gently onto the bed before climbing on top of you. He eyed you hungrily—sprawled out beneath him, desire evident on your face.

“You are perfect, hermosa.”

You blushed. “Rafa…”

He groaned. “Fuck. Don’t do that.”

Confusion clouded your expression. You didn’t think you’d done anything wrong…

He’d closed his eyes and his face gave away the internal struggle he was experiencing.

Realization suddenly crossed your features and you grinned. You gently raked your nails down his chest as you murmured the nickname again, “Rafa.”

His eyes shot open and he rutted his hips against yours, mouth pressing wet kisses to your heated skin. His teeth nipped at your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his wake.

He was taking his time with you. Wanting to explore every part of you, taste every inch of your skin, catalogue every detail in his mind.

You whimpered softly, not used to such attention, nor such deliberate slowness. “Rafael, please.”

He looked up at you with his trademark smirk. “You ever been with a Hispanic man before, Cariño?”

You blushed and shook your head.

His smirk widened. “We like to take our time, make sure our lady is properly loved and appreciated. This is about your enjoyment, (Y/N/N), not mine.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself too…”

He kissed you gently. “You keep making those pretty sounds for me, querida, and I promise you, I’ll enjoy myself.”

You found yourself unable to respond as he continued his slow descent towards your core. Each gentle caress of his lips against your skin seemed to set your nerve endings on fire--the need within you growing exponentially.

You whined prettily, hips shifting upwards, desperately seeking his lips where you needed them most. "Please," you begged.

You didn't know it yet, but Rafael would never deny you--not in the real world, nor the bedroom. The moment he heard your soft voice begging, he glanced up at your face. You already looked so far gone--your hair was a mess, your lips swollen, your cheeks flushed, and your breathing was ragged. He smiled to himself as he lowered his head, giving you no time to adjust as he dove into you with abandon.

You gasped as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. As skilled as the man between your legs was in the courtroom, he was even better suited with his mouth hungrily devouring you.

In the span of mere minutes, he'd turned you into a gasping, moaning mess--every one of your senses overwhelmed with feeling.

"Rafa--I--I'm close," you gasped.

He hummed against you, lips wrapping around your clit to increase his assault. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, holding you in place as he sped up his ministrations.

Your jaw dropped as a flurry of sounds--some of which were intended to be his name--slipped from your lips. Your orgasm sent wave after wave of intense pleasure through your body, but that pleasure soon turned to sensitivity.

"Rafa, too much--" you whispered as you tried to pull away from him.

He laid his arm across your lower belly, effectively holding you in place as his mouth continued to work you. His eyes flicked up to yours to check if you really did want him to stop, but your head was already thrown back, chest rising and falling rapidly as the familiar knot tightened in your stomach.

The moment your cries turned to moans and pleas to continue, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. "Did you want me to stop, querida?"

"No!" you cried loudly, fingers grasping his hair in an attempt to guide him back where you wanted him.

He smirked as he complied with your direction, lips and tongue once again sending you into a spiral of pleasure you'd never experienced before.

As you came down from your second high, Rafael finally slowed his assault and allowed you to pull his head up when it became too much.

He placed soft kisses against your heated skin, gently soothing you as the aftershocks shuddered through your body. His lips traced the curves of your face with gentle affection until your breathing had begun to normalize.

Rafael kissed you deeply, desire evident in the action. In response, your hand slowly descended down his chest and abdomen, until you reached his throbbing cock. You lightly ran your nails across the still clothed member, enticing a groan from the man above you.

You teased him for a few more seconds before sliding your hand beneath his boxer briefs and palming his cock in your warm hand. He groaned loudly--hips rutting against your hand instantly.

"I wanna taste you," you murmured against the shell of his ear.

"You don't have to..." he said softly.

There was something in his voice that caused you to pull away so you could see his face properly. He looked worried and perhaps a little apprehensive.

"But I want to," you reassured him.

"You do?"

You nodded. "It's something I enjoy very much, Rafa, so if you're okay with it, I would really like to suck your cock."

His eyes closed briefly and he moaned softly, forehead dropping against yours. "Por favor," he begged in a broken voice.

You grinned ear to ear. "Stand up."

"Qué?" he asked in confusion.

You nudged him gently and tilted your head towards the edge of the bed. "Stand up, handsome."

He did as you asked and watched in surprise as you lowered yourself to your knees on the floor in front of him. He felt like he needed to remind you again that you didn't need to do this for him, but when he saw the hunger in your eyes, he fell silent.

You slowly dragged his underwear down, freeing his cock from its constraints. You were a little surprised by his size--he was longer than average and quite thick--but surprise quickly turned to hunger.

You looked up at him, a playful smirk dancing on your lips, and all his worries faded away. It was obvious you wanted this...perhaps just as much as he did.

You wasted no time in wrapping your mouth around his cock, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could, eyes never leaving his face.

You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but you pushed past it, determined to provide him with as much pleasure as you could muster.

As you began to move, his fingers intertwined in your hair and his hips stuttered forwards occasionally. You knew what he needed, but it was clear he wasn't going to do it without some prodding.

You pulled off of him with a *pop* and waited until his heavily lidded eyes met yours. "Rafael, I want you to enjoy this."

"I am, cariño," he said in confusion.

"Not as much as you could be." You licked the tip of his cock for emphasis and his hips jumped slightly. "I want you to use my mouth for your own pleasure, Rafa. That's what it's there for."

He shook his head rapidly. He'd been expressly told not to do that by several women before you.

You rubbed his thighs reassuringly. "I want this, baby. Please," you begged. "Please fuck my mouth."

The moment the words were out of your mouth, you sucked his cock back into the warmth of your lips, hoping he would take you seriously. You pressed yourself forward, pushing past the gag reflex to take his entire member into your mouth.

Without hesitation, you began to guide his hips, urging him to give in and take what he wanted--what he needed.

You flicked your gaze up to meet his and nodded your head as best you could, hands still encouraging him to move. He very tentatively began to move his hips and you smiled, fingers digging into his thighs.

When you didn't pull away, he started to put a little more force into the movements. When you still didn't pull away, he sped up, fingers wrapping in your hair to keep you still.

You let him take control, eyes still trained on his face. He slowly began to thrust in earnest, fucking your mouth like it was his favorite place to be. You watched his head fall back, moans of intense pleasure leaving his lips.

You held onto him and focused on breathing as you let him use you. A few minutes passed before his hips began to stutter and you knew he was close.

You prepared to swallow everything he had to give you, but he surprised you by pulling away, your mouth coming off of him with a *pop*.

His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wild--pupils blocking out the brilliant green. "I need you," he said, voice raw and husky.

You understood his meaning and quickly crawled back onto the bed. He was on top of you almost immediately, lips latching onto your neck, teeth nipping at your flesh.

His cock rubbed against the outside of your pussy and you both groaned.

"Fuck," he mumbled. "Do I need a condom?"

"Pill," you gasped as you shook your head. "Wanna feel you fill me up, Rafa."

He let out a low growl and his eyes turned even more feral. He gave you no warning as he plunged his cock deep inside of you, stretching you in ways you'd never been stretched before.

"Rafael!" you cried out at the sensation.

Normally he would have forced himself to give you time to adjust, but his mind was too far gone. He set a brutal pace almost instantly and you were simply along for the ride.

There were so many new sensations that you were having a hard time staying focused. Everything just felt so incredible.

Your pussy throbbed around him, pulling him in even deeper. "Te sienetes muy bien, querida." [You feel so good, sweetheart.]

You moaned loudly, nails digging into his back as you arched against him.

"Te gusta cuando te hablo español, ¿no?" he growled into your ear. [You like it when I speak Spanish to you, don't you?"]

"Yes!" you gasped.

"Chica sucia," he chuckled darkly. [Dirty girl.]

"Rafa, please--I'm so close."

He groaned. "Quiero que vengas conmigo, cariño," he mumbled. [I want you to cum with me, sweetheart.] "Can you do that for me?" he asked in English.

You nodded your head rapidly.

"Esa es mi buena chica," he praised. [That's my good girl.]

You moaned lowly, preening at his praise. He smiled and picked up his pace, not wanting to stop until he felt you fall apart. "So close," he mumbled.

"Don't--stop!"

He knew you were close--could tell by the way your pussy fluttered around him--so he whispered, "Cum for me, baby."

You cried out as your orgasm hit you with more force than either of the two you'd had earlier. Rafael groaned your name as he spilled his seed within you, filling you up as your walls milked him dry.

You both began to come down from your highs, the intensity of your orgasms taking the wind out of both of you. Rafael pulled out and collapsed beside you, completely spent and satiated.

"That was pretty decent," you said between breaths.

He snapped his head in your direction and started to laugh when he saw the mischief in your eyes.

You grinned and joined in on his laughter, allowing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him.

"Very decent," he muttered against your hair.

You laughed again. "'Fucking incredible' would be a more accurate description."

"I couldn't agree more." He sighed softly. "I don't wanna move."

"Who says we have to?"

"We probably should...we do have work in the morning after all."

Your body tensed slightly and he felt it, realizing how his previous statement may have sounded. "I want you to stay, querida. I'm just saying we should probably get up and shower before we fall asleep."

You relaxed. "You may have to carry me."

He chuckled and dragged himself out of bed, pulling you along with him. He scooped you up despite your protests and carried you to the bathroom, placing you on the counter while he started the shower.

"I was kidding, Rafa!"

He smiled. "If my girl can walk immediately after sex, then I did something wrong. I'm always happy to carry you."

You smiled back at him, realizing he was completely serious. You watched him quietly, completely lost in thought.

"Where's your mind, querida?" he asked softly.

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts. "I'm happy...that's all."

Rafael kissed you gently. "Me too, hermosa. Now come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Once you were both clean and dry, he carried you back to his bed and laid you down gently before crawling into the bed beside you. He tugged you in closely against his chest and you sighed contentedly.

"Go to sleep, cariño. I'll be here in the morning when you wake up."

Somehow he seemed to know exactly what you needed to hear. Knowing he wasn't going anywhere and feeling his strong arms wrapped around you, allowed you to feel a calm peace you'd not felt in years.

Within minutes, you'd drifted off to sleep in his arms. Just before he fell asleep too, Rafael kissed the top of your head and whispered, "Te adoro con locura." [I adore you madly.]

[33446699]

What's going on in Korea ?

From middle school students involved in the recent Nth room cases to police being involved in these cases to K-pop idols involved in sexual assault cases in south Korea ,I wonder what's really going on in korea, women not being safe and that why it's so important for everyone to raise a voice for sexual assault victims nomatter where they are from ,sadly woman in any part of world aren't safe ,someday its India ,next its Korea ,someday it will be another country ,and I hope and expect that with these cases being surfaced,we should remove the rose coloured glasses and see idols , celebrities as a men ,as a woman ,as a human being , and with this being said don't get involved in fanwars don't make it a matter of fanwars and please support victims

Don't let your feelings and morals protect Celebrities instead of victims ,with investigation going on for months ,he going on concert tours while being investigated,with journalists knew nothing about this case ,with his members knowing about his crimes ,police being tight lipped and being under control of SM and SM mind you only removed him because the case is so serious, with victim being a minor and trying to tell people and trying to get justice on various social media platforms for months ,I really wish everything will be exposed to public ,members unfollowing him on social media even his friends for more than 17 years unfollowing him and with SM continuously deleting articles from NAVER and from under NCT tag (more than 16+ articles got deleted in 3 hours ),it's tells alot who is literally controlling media , journalists ,blogs and it also tells how victims should be the one who deserves justice who should be the one fans and general public stand with in these cases ,dont let your emotions control you ,and support someone who is not meant to be supported ,(MORALS SHOULD BE SAME REGARDLESS OF WHO THE PERSON IS ) ,and it's just tells again that we can't know anything about idols/celebrities if they dont want us to know anything ,we as fans are only fans in the end and we see a part of their lives which is acceptable and likeable to society , so please support the victims in every way possible 🙏🏼

Idk whats more concerning SM not cancelling his contract or him undergoing normal investigations for months like a normal citizen while being an offender ,how much power money companies holds it tells alot ,it's so horrible and disturbing and with a company like SM removing him and being low-key about everything which was happening for months and him doing this for 6 years is so so horrible ,can't imagine the pain and fear the victim suffered and is now in and I hope south Korea changes it's laws and protect their woman ,and let more people from industry expose in case they are involved cause how can someone do this for 6 long years and no one knew ,fans didn't have any idea

I hope the victims get justice and healing they need and it makes me even more sad that just yesterday I was making post about Nth room crimes in Korea and that post still being in drafts and today this happened,it's so sad

[cxrdycxps]

Pretty Hurts • Ellie Williams

☢️ female reader • lesbian reader (it’s well defined) • canon typical violence • sexual assault • mean!ellie can’t deal with feelings • victim shaming • strap on sex • Ellie’s also mean in bed • recreational drug use ☢️

Main Masterlist • Ellie Williams Masterlist

“Jesse! Hey, Jesse.” You chased your friend up the street, almost running into him when he stopped suddenly. He looked you up and down, eyes narrowed. It had been unseasonably warm today but he was sure you were pushing it.

“What’s got you all dressed up, Princess?” Jesse asked and you looked down at your outfit like you needed a reminder of what you were wearing. “Or dressed down, I guess?”

“You think it’s hot?” You asked him and he blanched, looking over his shoulder as if Dina would appear out of nowhere to hear the conversation. “Not for you obviously.”

Jesse would admit there was a certain allure to it. He would admit that on his death bed where a very jealous Dina wouldn’t be able to strangle him for it.

You had your usual cowboy boots on that you wore year round. You had been heartbroken when you busted your last pair beyond repair while on patrol one day. Ellie had saved the day almost three weeks later when she returned with a new pair for you.

Usually you could be found clad in a tight pair of jeans, weirdly proud of your looks for someone who had been born after the world ended. It had earned you the nickname of Princess by most of your peers. Today, instead of the typical jeans, was a short denim skirt. You had clearly sacrificed a pair of jeans for them but Jesse could appreciate the sacrifice. Completely unbiased, just as a man.

He was starting to get paranoid Dina would hear his thoughts. At this point he was going to deserve to be strangled. The top you were wearing was also of your own doing. It had been a white blouse once, Jesse guessed. Except now it was sleeveless and cropped, tying at the front in a little knot. You hadn’t bothered to button it all the way.

“Well that answers that.” You grinned happily and Jesse blinked at you. “You were staring, it means I look hot.”

You gave him a little twirl and he was treated to a glimpse of what he was certain was definitely your underwear. He closed his eyes and asked the lord for strength, if he even existed.

“Tonight’s the night.” You told him enthusiastically. Jesse still hadn’t gathered enough brain cells to answer you but it was like you didn’t need him to. Like you could read his mind in the way he feared Dina could. “Ellie’s finally coming to a dance.”

“Think you’ve picked it up wrong, Princess. Ellie doesn’t dance. Ellie actively avoids dances by hanging out in Joel’s garage and smoking so much she reeks of weed for three days after.” That was oddly specific. Jesse knew far too much about his friends at this point. Ellie’s smoking habits, the color of your underwear. When would it end?

“I know but it’s part of her fixing her relationship with Joel. He likes these things apparently, even though he just sits down the back and glares at people.” You told Jesse excitedly. For some reason Joel liked you.

He told you about how he was trying to fix things between him and Ellie. He talked to you during meals, he patrolled with you and he even had been caught leaving your house.

In the beginning it had been weird. Everyone felt weird about it including Ellie who had callously called you out for fucking Joel a few months after she had arrived to Jackson.

You hadn’t had the best reaction about it. Calling Ellie a slew of names, promptly bursting into tears and running out of the Tipsy Bison. And while Joel would probably murder people for looking at Ellie wrong, he had shaken his head at Ellie, following you out of the bar.

Turns out you had known Joel. He had helped you years ago when he had come across a gang of rival raiders, ones that didn’t have the same barely there morals he had.

No women or no children. He had sworn he wouldn’t do that and he had stuck to it. So when he came across you, barely ten and already far more exposed to the cruelties of the world something in him had snapped.

He had gotten you and your mother away. And the pair of you had made your way to Jackson, only for him to find you years later. Your mother having passed away since he had last saw you.

It just so happened one of the nights he had been walking home late from the Tipsy Bison he had encountered you trying to tell one of the stable boys you weren’t interested.

He hadn’t listened and Joel had intervened, reminding you of that fateful night so many years ago. The puzzle pieces had clicked and you had formed a sort of dependency on the man who had saved your life.

At this point Joel was collecting daughters like they were Pokémon and he was too tired to keep fighting it so he just let you come around when you had some small issue you needed advice on.

You had explained some of this to Ellie the next night, apologizing for calling her names in an act of graciousness nobody was sure Ellie deserved. It wasn’t long until most of your inner circle had put it together that you had a crush on her.

Everyone but Ellie, that was. So you had hatched these elaborate schemes to get her attention and everyone watched when you crashed and burned only to bounce back again and again.

You were kind of unshakeable. It was almost inspiring.

So when you walked into the Tipsy Bison that night with your hair curled and what passed for make up on these days everyone was ready to watch you fail again.

A few of the women had been reclaiming old beauty practices after a particularly good patrol had found an old salon with hair styling tools. And some out of date makeup but it was powders so did it even count as an expiration date?

“She always does so much and for what?” Ellie asked and Joel looked up from his drink to find you scanning the crowd. “Oh god she’s going to coming over here.”

“Cut her some slack, I thought you were friends now.” Joel sighed and Ellie looked back at Joel before looking back at you.

“We’ve nothing in common except Jesse and Dina.” Ellie explained to Joel. Joel knew he was on thin enough ice with Ellie so he didn’t mention that according to you, there was so many shared interests that it just made sense.

Instead of approaching like Ellie had predicted you would after spotting her, you made your way to the bar instead and Joel watched Ellie’s eyes lock on the length of your skirt. Or rather the lack of length to it.

Joel wondered if he was in good enough graces with Ellie again yet to make a joke about it but he caught himself at the last second in case he ruined your best laid plans.

He looked back to you at the bar and found it wasn’t just Ellie’s attention you had managed to capture. Stable boy apparently hadn’t learned his lesson and had returned for more.

Joel straightened up in his seat and wondered if Tommy would kill him for hurting this kid. It would probably be worth it to teach him a lesson.

Joel didn’t need to move because he watched Ellie approach you and slot in on your other side, taking all of your attention. Ellie gestured for three drinks off Seth before turning to look at you.

“New skirt?” Ellie asked and you lit up like the fact that she noticed was the greatest thing ever. Like you couldn’t even hear the stable boy say anything from behind you as he attempted to get your attention back.

“Do you like it?” You asked Ellie, giving her a little twirl so she could appreciate the whole view. Ellie let her eyes trace you up and down as you finished with a little bounce and who was Ellie to not appreciate the way your tits moved.

“I mean, it’s a skirt.” She shrugged and you visibly deflated as Seth approached with the drinks.

“I think it’s a great skirt.” Stable boy told you and you barely looked over your shoulder at him to roll your eyes.

“Literally no one in Jackson cares what you think Darwin.” You snapped and Ellie laughed lightly, nudging the third glass in your direction.

“Come on then.” She instructed and nodded to where Joel was sitting, watching the whole interaction with what was almost a smile on his face.

“With you?” You asked, cradling the drink in your hand and looking between her and the table.

“Unless you want to stay here with Darwin?” Ellie shrugged and started walking away. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you followed her over to the table. Instead of taking the seat she had been in, beside Joel, she took the one across the table from him, kicking the chair beside her out in a casual way that made your heart beat double time.

“Hey Joel, how you doin’?” You asked, smiling at him before taking a sip of your drink. He took his own drink from the table and sipped at it slowly, looking over your shoulder.

“Am I gonna have to talk to Stable Boy?” Joel asked rather than answer your question and you followed his gaze to where Darwin had his elbows leaned back on the bar, watching you.

“She’s plenty capable, ain’t you Princess?” Ellie asked, her arm sliding along the back of your chair. “Put him in his place just now.”

You had been barely paying attention to Darwin at the bar, definitely not enough to remember what you had said. Recalling as much was even hard with Ellie’s fingers tracing the place when you had cut the sleeves off your blouse. Her finger traced your skin lightly and you could feel the goosebumps following in her wake.

“Is that so?” Joel asked with what was almost a smile. “What’d you tell him?”

“I uh, I don’t know.” You muttered, looking back again to find Darwin wasn’t looking anymore, talking to some of his friends. “I wasn’t mean, was I?”

“Told him no one cared about his opinion in all of Jackson.” Ellie sounded proud of you and you leaned further back into her arm with a satisfied grin.

“He should know better than goin’ talkin’ to you anyway.” Joel muttered, swirling his glass as the music started up. “I obviously didn’t scare him enough.”

Ellie looked between you both and back to Darwin. You figured she didn’t know anything about the night Joel interrupted you both in the middle of an argument.

“Darwin’s really not so bad.” You sighed, looking back at him again. He was talking avidly, telling a story with his hands and his friends were laughing. “He just don’t know what to do with a pretty girl.”

“Pretty girl?” Ellie laughed meanly and you looked up at her and swallowed the lump suddenly growing in your throat. “You sure of that?”

You leaned forward, away from her arm and stared at the table before looking up at Joel who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I uh, I’m gonna..” you trailed off, shaking your head before standing up.

You passed Jesse and Dina who were coming in. They watched you and looked across to where Ellie was watching you leave, her arm still slung around your chair.

You tried to ignore the cold, crossing your arms across your chest and heading for home. You wiped at your eyes feeling pathetic that you were actually gonna cry.

“Hey Princess!” You sighed, looking over your shoulder and found Darwin standing a couple of feet away. “You usually never leave a dance until the music stops playing.”

“I don’t feel much like dancin’.” You shrugged, shivering again. He sighed, stepping a little closer and extending his jacket he had in his hand. “It’s fine.”

“Take it, nothing worse than seeing a pretty girl cry. She don’t need to be cold too.” You laughed at his logic, taking his jacket from his outstretched hand. “What’s got you so upset? Thought all your dreams were coming true with how close you two were.”

“She insinuated I wasn’t pretty.” You told him, feeling pathetic. You wiped your tears away again and Darwin rolled his eyes, stepping close enough to pull you into a hug. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It ain’t stupid. You know you’re the prettiest girl in town. That’s why everyone calls you Princess.” He assured you, a soothing hand rubbing your back. “We all got our talents and ain’t no one as pretty as you.”

“I got other talents.” You muttered petulantly and he laughed.

“I know you do. You’re a dab hand at tracking, make the rest of us look stupid. When fall comes you make a great apple pie. And you ain’t never failed to put a smile on someone’s face no matter how bad their day is.” Darwin told you with a squeeze. You looked up at him and pouted.

“Why can’t I like you?” You asked him and he laughed, tossing his head back. “Ellie would never say all that to me. She’s just mean.”

“I wish you could like me too. But it ain’t that simple telling your heart what to do.” He released you with one arm, wrapping the other around your shoulder to guide you home.

“Ain’t that for sure.” You sighed before looking back to where the music was pouring from the Tipsy Bison. “You wanna dance?”

“You tryna get my hopes up?” He asked with a laugh and you shook your head at him, squaring your shoulders. “Thought you weren’t up for dancin’?”

“I ain’t but she doesn’t get to know she hurt me like that. So we should go back and dance. I still ain’t gonna crawl into your bed tonight but we can be friends, can’t we?” You asked and Darwin could only roll his eyes, turning back towards the bar.

“Maybe a couple of the other girls’ll see you in my arm and start paying me some attention.” You looked almost offended and he shrugged. “Ain’t you using me to make her jealous?”

You were and he was right about it. It shouldn’t hurt that he was getting something out of it too so you only nodded at him, taking his hand and leading into the bar.

He paused you in the doorway and lifted his hands up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs running under your eyes. “Don’t let her know she made you cry.”

You smiled up at him as the door pushed open. Jesse looked between you and Darwin and paused in place, jaw dropped.

“I was just coming to check on you.” Jesse muttered and you shrugged as Darwin dropped his hands from your face.

“We were just getting some air.” You told Jesse, pulling Darwin back into the bar by his hand. “Nothing to see here.”

///

The sounds of the forest were better to quiet your mind than any of the weed Eugene managed to bring into Jackson. You stood with your head tilted back towards the sun, letting the breeze cool you.

You could hear the noise of the others as they travelled through the small settlement behind you, killing off the runners you’d been tracking.

You didn’t much get involved in that. It turned your stomach at best and made you violently ill at worse.

You had a gun on your hip that you only ever shot at unmoving targets, keeping your skills sharp but without causing harm. You had seen enough blood to last you a lifetime.

“Bout ready to get saddled up again, Princess.” Joel told you from a little to your left. You turned your head to look at him, lifting a hand to block the sun rays. “You finished sunbathing?”

“Almost, a bloater travelled through here. Couple days ago at most.” You told Joel and he looked around, watching for what you saw. You didn’t share any of the details with him. You didn’t need to be out of a job.

“Got enough time?” Joel asked and you shook your head. He nodded slowly, watching the forest with you. “We’ll come out this way again tomorrow. Plan an overnight patrol.”

“Sounds good to me.” You agreed lightly, listening to the sounds of everyone else saddling back up from a little behind the tree line.

“So, stable boy, huh?” Joel asked and you rolled your eyes. You looked up at Joel, still shielding your eyes before turning and heading back to your horse. “I’m just asking.”

“Well don’t. Darwin and I are friends. He’s nicer than other people I chose to associate with recently.” You told him, pulling yourself up onto your horse without bothering to look back at him. “Maybe it’s time I find good friends.”

“You got good friends and none of them tried to force themselves on you in a dark alley.” Joel reasoned as he pulled himself up onto his horse.

“He wasn’t gonna force himself on me.” You sighed. “He was a little drunk and thought I just needed convincin’. He never set a hand on me. I’m not that ten year old anymore.”

“I know that. You’re a woman now and you make your own decisions. I just wanna make sure you’re making good ones.” You stared at Joel, eyebrows furrowed.

“Joel, I uh, I ain’t tryin’ to be rude. But you aren’t my father.” You told him, bewildered at the sharing he was doing when usually a grunt was all the acknowledging you’d get. “You got Ellie for that.”

“You ain’t ever turned my advice down before.” He shrugged and you shook your head.

“Thanks to your advice I was cryin’ outside the bar last week. You told me to have patience but Joel, I ain’t ever gonna let someone talk to me like that.” You sighed. He didn’t reply and you didn’t much care, urging your horse on ahead.

You spent some time discussing an early patrol tomorrow with Tommy. He’d need to put together a small team for overnight so that you could track that bloater and get rid of it.

You resolutely ignored Joel who’s eyes you could feel burning into your back and kept a similar distance from Jesse who was just confused for all intents and purposes.

You didn’t bother taking time to explain to any of your friends why you were quietly drawing away from them. You didn’t know how to explain what finally tipped you over the edge was a dig that maybe you weren’t as pretty as you thought you were.

You were embarrassed to admit it had knocked your confidence a little. You had always held your looks close to your heart. You were a little vain, you knew as much. Your mama had been the most beautiful woman you had known. She had told you about being a pageant queen and how she had loved looking pretty.

Jesse wouldn’t understand it. He wasn’t a girl, he didn’t understand that drive to be worried about how you looked. Dina would laugh at you, of that you were sure. She had always laughed at your need to wear clothes that almost bordered on impractical.

You hadn’t minded before. But now you wondered if maybe you were an outsider. You had been friends with Jesse and Dina way before Ellie had come along but Ellie had slotted in seamlessly to the group. It was a kind of heartbreaking thought that once again you were isolated from everyone else.

On your return to Jackson, Darwin was at the stable, welcoming in the patrol men and taking their horses. You hung around for a while, helping Darwin with brushing the horses and settling them in for the night.

"We'll be heading out again tomorrow." You told him, fighting around a yawn. He looked up from where he was brushing Joel's horse and smiled at you. "Ain't you up for a patrol soon?"

The patrol schedule, like most jobs in Jackson, was rotational. For everyday patrols there was a set schedule and groups who would do them all the time. But the long patrols, the overnight, were a town-wide rotation in which every able-bodied adult took part.

Your momma had said something about jury duty the first time it had come up. You never had a chance to ask her what that had meant.

"Yeah sure, think I'll be in for this one." Darwin nodded, finishing up with the horse and dusting his hands off. He gave you a grin and you rolled your eyes at him, already expecting the stupid joke that followed that particular grin. "You wanna share a sleeping bag?"

"I think I'd rather share it with the bloater we're looking for." You scoffed, tossing his bag at him as you left the stable with him. You cast a look in through the other stables as you both left and found Ellie brushing Shimmer.

She looked over her shoulder at the sound of Darwin chattering and you paused when she called our name. When you paused in place Darwin stopped by your side. Ellie stared between you both, eyes narrowing.

"I'll see you at dinner." You told Darwin with a sigh, resting your arms on the half door of the stable. Ellie watched him walk away before turning to you with a raised eyebrow.

"You heading out tomorrow?" Ellie asked and you nodded, resting your chin on your forearms. She fidgeted with the brush in her hands, barely looking up at you. "Joel says it's a bloater. You ever seen one before?"

"Is this an exam, do I need to get so many questions right before you let me leave?" You asked her and she rolled her eyes, throwing the brush into her bag.

"I was just asking, no need to get your panties in a twist." Ellie scoffed and you huffed, standing up straight. "I can't make conversation with you now? Got your little boyfriend and suddenly you're too good for your friends."

"Like you're a friend? The way that you treat me?" You asked with a scoff and Ellie recoiled as if you had shocked her with something she didn't already know. "You cut me down at every single chance you get and call yourself my friend."

"It was a joke, I can't make a joke?" She asked, almost shouting and you shook your head, running a hand through your hair. "You never had a problem with me making a joke before."

"You never called me ugly before." You muttered and she blinked at you. You stared at her for several seconds as she remained unmoving and sighed. "I never realized you were laughing at me, not with me. It hurt a little."

You left her standing in the stable and wondered how she dared to pretend she hadn't noticed that everything she had said to you wasn't a dig in one way or another.

You had clearly been delusional in thinking that there would ever have been a chance that she was interested in you.

///

The thing about early morning patrols was that most people in the usual patrol group kept it quiet until everyone had fully woken up. By everyone, you meant mostly Eugene and yourself.

Unfortunately, Darwin had chosen this morning to be especially chatty and Ellie was telling Joel a bunch of puns from a tattered book. You leaned forward, your forehead against your horse's mane, and tried to tune it all out before you raised your head again.

"Up late, Princess?" Darwin asked and you groaned, lifting a hand to block out the rising sun from your eyes.

“Dreaming of you, Sweetheart.” You told him before digging your heels in and urging your horse up ahead to Eugene who seemed to be distancing himself from the chatter boxes.

“Damn shame we can’t just tape their mouth shut.” Eugene grunted and you laughed at him, rolling your eyes. “That boy of yours could draw a pack of the biters with a whisper.”

“He ain’t mine.” You laughed and Eugene shook his head, pulling down his sunglasses to look at you. “He’s not my type.”

“The other loud mouth is though.” He pointed out and you sighed heavily, reaching out and attempting to swipe his sunglasses.

“Cmon old man, I know you stole my last pair. I just know it.” You accused and he shook his head with a smirk as he batted your hands away.

“You can’t prove it, Princess. You’ll have to keep a look out for your own.” He told you and you sighed. You were approaching the location you had spotted bloater tracks so you sat up straight and reached back to tie your hair up in a ponytail.

Darwin joined your sides the same filthy grin on his face that you knew a comment was coming. “You know what that does to me, baby.”

“You make me want to vomit.” You replied with a sigh, pulling on your horses reigns and hopping down. Eugene followed you while the others waited back.

“Think it might have fallen off a cliff and died and we can just all go home?” Eugene asked and you rolled your eyes. You followed the signs that lead you to your discovery the other day.

Several of the plants had been squashed in the surrounding area. On several of the trees there was residue from the bloater knocking into them. The terrible echolocation skills allowed you to follow their path pretty easily.

“Dumb motherfucker got me wasting a whole day and night on this shit.” Eugene sighed, watching you follow the path of destruction. He went back for your horses and to gather everyone else.

You took your time, watching the signs and clues. At one point the bloater had just wandered in a circle, trampling a ring of destruction. You figured it was probably chasing an animal or something.

When the others caught up you accepted the reigns of your horse off Eugene and hopped up on her back. The group was much quieter as you followed the trail.

You had been right about one thing. The bloater had been a few days ahead of you. By the time the sun was beginning to set you were still over a day behind it. With the slow speed it travelled you would be well able to catch up the following morning and be home before sundown.

With that news the group made way to the nearest outpost in a small farm house. The horses were set up in the barn, Darwin offering to do his duty by settling them all in.

The rest of you trailed into the farmhouse.

Joel lit a fire while everyone set up their space for the night. You and Eugene played rock paper scissors for the sofa and he laughed when you lost, setting your sleeping bag up on the floor.

He then lost to Joel who disputed his claim only for him to offer the sofa to Ellie which made you and Eugene roll your eyes.

You hung a pot over the fire, unpacking a few tins of food. While you waited you dug your fists into the bottom of your back, trying to ease the pain taking residence there.

“I got somethin’ for that!” Eugene called and you only laughed at him. You had no doubt he had an arsenal of ‘stuff’. “You young people shouldn’t be hurting’ like you’re eighty.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.” Joel clapped Eugene on the shoulder in passing.

///

Mostly everyone was sleeping. Eugene was starfished by the fire, his massive form almost blocking the light from it. Ellie was curled up on the sofa, her hand resting down the side, almost touching Joel who was sleeping next to her, still as a corpse. Darwin was closest to where you had set up, almost completely covered by his sleeping bag, only the top of his head peeking out.

You were sat up, turning your gun over in your hand. It was your turn to keep watch and you had sat yourself up on a counter in the kitchen to do so. The floor was open plan so you could still see everyone while keeping an eye on things outside.

The heat of the evening was getting to you and so you took a second to pad outside, wincing at the creak of the screen door. There was a bench on the porch and you lowered yourself into it.

The night was silent, the only sound from the slight rustle of the leaves in the gentle breeze. There was just over half a moon, a natural source of light allowing you to see the trees of the forest.

In times like this it was easy to forget why you were out here. You had never known a life before the outbreak but your momma had told you stories about how she had lived.

You wanted to experience a peagant and see her in all her glory. You wanted a prom and Friday night football games. You wanted to know what it had all been about.

Most of all you wanted your momma. She’d probably be able to comfort you in getting over Ellie. She always was able to calm you down even when the two of you were living through hell.

That was if she was okay with you liking girls. You had never had a chance to tell her about how you felt. She had died well before you had accepted it.

Cancer.

The world ended and zombies took over but cancer was what killed her in the end. Without chemo there was nothing the doctors in Jackson could do.

The people of Jackson had been good to you. You had lived in a boarding house until you were eighteen and then gave you back your momma’s house.

The screen door creaked and you looked up when Darwin stepped out. He didn’t speak and so neither did you, letting him take his place beside you.

“Hard to sleep when we ain’t at home.” He told you after a little while and you nodded in agreement, still watching the forest. “You okay?”

“Just thinkin’ about Momma.” You told him honestly. “I been missin’ her.”

“She’d be real proud of you.” He told you with a cut off laugh. “I remember her. She was real pretty and real nice. Used to help my mom set her hair in rollers on special occasions.”

“She didn’t want beauty to die.” You told him and he nodded. Everyone knew that about her. Some people had thought her vain. But in her eyes it was her culture, her history. Her momma had been the same and even her momma before that.

“As long as you’re alive beauty is sure to be.” Darwin smiled at you and you smiled back, tipping your head to lay on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you and together you watched the forest.

It was tipping into Darwin’s watch time before he spoke again, calling your name softly to see if you were awake. You hummed sleepily and he chuckled.

“We could’ve been so easy, you know?” He asked, sighing wistfully. You sat up as if you had been scolded and he reached for your hand in apology. “I know, you don’t like men. But if you did it would be easy.”

“Yeah. I’ve always known, you know?” You asked him, laughing humorlessly. “I didn’t get crushes on boys so I just ignored it. And then I met Ellie.”

“Did you ever even try?” Darwin asked, pulling back to look at you. “Did you just write all men off?”

“I didn’t need to try. I knew.” You didn’t like the accusation in his tone and so you leaned back away from him. He released your hand to run a hand through his hair. “I’ve always known.”

“You can’t know something like that.” You opened your mouth to argue with him and he pressed forward, his hand tangling in your hair and holding you in place. He forced himself on you, kissing you so hard your teeth bruised your lips and you gasped.

His tongue invaded your mouth while his hands pawed at your chest. You struggled to push away from him but he was stronger than you. The only sound was the click of your safety, the gun against his stomach.

He froze, not releasing you entirely but pulling his lips back from yours. “What are you doing?”

“Get your hands off me. Right now.” You warned, your voice shaky. He raised both hands, pulling away slowly from you. “If you ever touch me again I-”

“You won’t use that gun, sweetheart.” Even with his hands raised he was cocky about it and you knew he was right. You didn’t shoot infected never mind living people.

“I won’t have to. Joel is plenty fond of using his.” You warned standing up and walking back towards the screen door. He didn’t follow you inside and you paused inside the door.

Eugene and Joel were unmoved. Ellie had rolled over to face the back of the sofa but she was still. You took a moment to gather yourself, wiping the tears off your face.

Your hands were shaking as you returned to your bed roll, pulling it closer to Joel. You pulled the blanket up over your head and tried not to shake with your sobs, freezing when the creak of the screen door signaled Darwin’s return inside.

///

“You okay there, Princess?” Eugene asked quietly. The other three had pulled ahead, the early morning chatter driving you and him a few meters back. When you didn’t answer Eugene tried again. “Princess, you with me?”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, shaking your head and then looking back to him. “I was in my own world. Sorry.”

“Hope it’s damn better than this one.” He sighed and you huffed a laugh before sighing yourself. Ellie and Joel were chatting up the front. Darwin interjected every once in a while but Ellie seemed to be trying to exclude him.

Your eyes were dry from crying and the headache you had wasn’t aided by the sun that was beating down on top of you. Your stomach turned every time Darwin looked back at you.

You wanted to scream at him to stop looking at you. You wanted to tell Joel and Eugene what he had done to you so that they could leave his body in the woods. You wanted to dig your heels in to your horse and gallop into the woods where no one would ever touch you again.

Instead you clutched the reins so your hand wouldn’t shake and you nudged your horse into speeding up to take the lead before Joel could call you.

You were closer to the bloater, somewhere within an hour of its stumbling steps. It was traveling in a wide arc and with time it would return to Jackson’s area. It made the trip worth it. For everyone but you it seemed.

It took less than fifteen minutes for you to land on the bloaters tail. There was scraps of what counted as flesh on the trees, trampled plants and a lack of nature sounds in the area.

When the horses grew too loud you left them back, tying their reins to the trees. Eugene took the lead with Joel following up on the end of the group. The bloater was easy tracked from here.

Eugene had his shotgun loaded and Joel had his rifle. Ellie was using her pistol but she had a Molotov cocktail to get things started. You held your pistol in your grip and hoped you wouldn’t need it. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Darwin and ensure he had a loaded gun.

The bloater was trying to navigate the forest and found difficulty in getting past the dense trees. Every couple of feet it stumbled and almost knocked itself over.

It was pathetic to watch but you knew once the first shot was taken it would no longer be this stumbling mess but an evolved killing machine.

Joel lifted a hand and pointed at Ellie to stay. Eugene and him circled around until the bloater was unknowingly surrounded. Darwin took post beside Ellie and you stood back, pistol raised and hands shaking.

With a nod Ellie threw the Molotov which burst at the bloaters feet. The infected screeched and roared when Ellie followed with two shots from her pistol.

Eugene raised his shotgun as you looked around. A shot went off followed by Joel’s rifle and the bloater hit the ground. You were still looking around, following imprints in the ground. There was a second pair of bare feet, much smaller than the bloater. You had missed them.

You turned to warn everyone, all of them gathered by the bloater. Just behind Ellie a stalker approached. You didn’t have time to warn them when two shots sounded. The stalkers body dropped and so did you.

Your knees buckled from under you landing you in the dead leaves and branches on the ground. You had dropped your gun, hands over your ears trying to block out the sound.

Joel was checking over Ellie who had barely moved despite how close your bullets had come to her head. She was staring at the stalker, two bullets lodged in its head.

Darwin got to you first and reached for you but you scrambled away. “Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

You reached for your gun again and pointed it at him catching Joel and Eugene’s attention as Darwin raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

You knew you were sobbing, your hands shaking violently. Joel and Eugene were talking to you and you knew you should listen but you couldn’t. You had shot someone. You had shot someone to save Ellie. An infected, sure. But it had been someone once.

“Hey there, Princess.” Her voice broke the quiet. “I’m gonna take that from you. I ain’t a fan of Darwin either but we can’t shoot him.”

She reached out and hit the safety on your gun before removing it from your shaking hands. You looked from Darwin to her and she shushed you when you tried to speak. “That’s okay, I just don’t wanna muck out the stalls if he’s dead.”

“I shot someone.” You whispered and Ellie shook her head. You could still see the body of the stalker so you nodded. “I did. I killed someone.”

“You saved my life, that’s what you did. You saved me.” Ellie told you and you blinked, focusing on her face. “You did your job and tracked the bloater and then you tracked the stalker. You saved my life, Princess.”

“I should’ve, I couldn’t-”

“Shh, that’s okay. Why don’t we head on home?” Ellie asked, helping you up off the ground. “Get some warm food and a decent bed to make up for last night. You okay to ride?”

“I can share with her.” Darwin reached out and you flinched away into Ellie. “It’s okay, Princess. It’s just me.”

“Don’t let him touch me.” You begged Ellie quietly. “Please don’t let him touch me.”

Ellie kept one arm around you as she guided you to the horses. She was talking to you quietly but all you could see was your shaking hands. The hands of a murderer.

“Time to get on up. You can share with me, okay?” Ellie asked. On autopilot you climbed up onto Shimmer and shifted forward when the press of Ellie warmed against your back.

“You and I are gonna talk when we get home.” Joel muttered in the background and you released a breath. Joel would protect you just like always.

///

You were in your bed. You didn’t know how you had gotten there. You were also in pyjamas. You didn’t remember putting them on. You felt off balance and shaky as you swung your legs over the edge of your bed.

The light behind your curtains told you it was midday but the last thing you remembered was closing in on the bloater with the others. When you staggered to your feet it came back to you slowly.

The stalker. You had shot it. Darwin’s hands reaching for you. Ellie and her calming voice trying to soothe you on the ride back to Jackson.

You opened your bedroom door and listened closely for voices. You and Dina lived together in your mommas old house. It wasn’t so much an offer you had made but a decision Maria had. Housing was better used for families than one single person and so Dina had joined you when her family were gone.

When you reached the living room Ellie was asleep on the sofa which surprised you. She had said something about beds. You could remember that much.

You wiped your eyes tiredly and fought a yawn as you stepped into the living room. She hadn’t changed her clothes or even gone home. Her pack was by the top of the sofa. You nudged one of her legs and her eyes opened slowly.

She sniffled a bit, a hand running over her face. When she blinked and looked up she saw you and rushed to sit up on the sofa. “You’re awake!”

“Just barely. What are you doing here?” You asked, confused. Ellie’s eyes tracked the length of your body and you folded your arms across your chest. Your pajamas weren’t the most attractive attire. “How did I get here?”

“I brought you home.” Ellie explained, patting the space beside her. You took a seat but left more distance than she had intended between you both. “You were sort of out of it for a while.”

“Yeah, that’s happens sometimes.” You muttered and looked down at your hands. “Did you put me to bed?”

“No. That was all Dina. I’ve been down here the whole time, I swear.” You nodded at her words and yawned again. Ellie didn’t say anything and you had nothing to say so you leaned back on the sofa and pulled your legs up under you.

You almost drifted off again when Ellie cleared her throat. You turned your head to look at her but she was staring down at her hands instead of meeting your eyes. “Darwin told us what happened.”

“Did he now?” You asked. Your hands tightened into fists so that they wouldn’t shake and you turned your face away from her to hide your expression. “I’m sure it was very informative.”

“He told us he kissed you.” Ellie sighed and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Yeah, Joel didn’t believe that story. So he asked him again, a little more forceful.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure what else to say to that. You didn’t like the thought of people getting hurt but Darwin hadn’t cared about hurting you. “Is Joel gonna be in trouble?”

“No. Darwin isn’t going to talk to anyone about what happened.” Ellie assured you and you nodded slowly, your lips pursed. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Wasn’t you, was it?” You asked quietly. You fixed your gaze on the wall and picked at the skin around your nails. “Why haven’t you gone home?”

“Because I wanted to make sure that you were okay. And I wanted to apologise because I seen him do it. I saw him kiss you and I turned around and went back to bed.” You continued to stare at the wall and didn’t even try to fight the tears that welled in your eyes. “I didn’t know what it was. I heard arguing and I was just checking on you both. When I looked out you were kissing.”

You tried to fight it. The lump in your throat. Ellie was desperate to explain to you and you knew it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have known. But she should’ve known something hadn’t been right.

You sniffed and wiped at your face, flinching away from her hand when she reached for you. You blinked and more tears fell. “You guys were the first. You, Jesse and Dina. I hadn’t even admitted to myself really.”

You sniffed again and wiped under your nose with your sleeve. You probably looked a mess right now but for the first time in your life you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “I uh- I never told my Momma. I didn’t know how she’d feel, always wanted me to find a husband. Give her grandbabies.”

“I told Darwin that I ignored it. That I always knew but I pushed it down.” Ellie stayed silent as you swallowed past the lump in you throat, wiping your eyes roughly with your sleeves. It took you a couple of seconds to get talking again and Ellie stared at her lap, picking her nails. “I told him it was you that helped me realize it. That helped me be confident enough to come out.”

Ellie opened her mouth but you only shook your head, raising you hand to stop her. Your hand was shaking and you clenched it into a fist letting it drop back down into your lap. “I’ve had people tell me I’m too pretty to be gay. I trusted you all to believe me.”

“So you’re saying this is my fault?” Ellie asked in shock and you sniffed again shaking your head. You scrubbed your hand over your face and swallowed past the recurring lump. “That’s what it fucking sounds like.”

“It’s no one faults but Darwin. He shouldn’t have done what he did but didn’t you question it for a second?” You asked her desperately. “Wasn’t there some part of you that wondered why I would do that with him. A man who has a history of being a little too forceful with his come ons?”

“How the hell was I supposed to know you hadn’t changed your mind? You always flirt with him! You were dancing together and you get dinner!” Ellie was yelling now but you didn’t have it in you to yell back. You were so drained of energy. “The short fucking skirts and tight jeans? Your tits are out most of the damn time.”

Ellie covered her mouth when your head snapped to look at her. Your jaw had dropped and your eyes widened as he words sunk in. “So it’s my fault?”

“No- that’s not what I’m-” Ellie stuttered out a half response and you stared at her. Waiting for something different. Waiting for her to explain it.

“You gave me the confidence to come out. To be myself and dress how I like. To not care about people thinking I’m too pretty to be gay. And everyday since you’ve chipped away at that confidence. You can have it all. Just get out of my house.” You spoke evenly but your voice cracked at the end and you swallowed. “Don’t come back. I don’t care if it’s to see Dina, I don’t care if the house is on fire, I don’t care if the walls of Jackson fall down. Just don’t come back.”

“Princess, please-”

“Get the fuck out! Get out now!” You screamed at her and she raised her hands in defense, heading for the door. You watched her leave before curling up on the sofa and crying yourself back to a fitful sleep.

///

“You okay?” You nodded at Dina as you grabbed your bag off the chair in the kitchen. She held out a mug and you sipped at it between attempts to slip into your boots. “New jeans?”

“Don’t.” You hadn’t talked about any of it you didn’t tell her why you argued with Ellie, why she couldn’t come around anymore. You didn’t give any excuse other than the colder weather for the reason you were covered in layers. “I’ve got an early patrol. I’ll make dinner.”

Dina watched you tie your hair back into a loose ponytail at the base of your skull. It hadn’t been curled since that disastrous patrol. Your face was usually free of make up now and Dina finally understood what you had tried to explain.

The beauty was half of who you were. Your sunny disposition was the other half. Without you putting effort into either halves you were just a shell, pushing through each day.

“I’m off today. I can make dinner. We can have some people over. Jesse, maybe Joel and Ellie?” Dina offered and you looked up from your mug, eyes narrowed. “Or not Ellie?”

“I don’t want her in the house, Dina.” You warned her, checking your gun was loaded before tucking it into the holster by your hip. “It’s non-negotiable.”

“If you would just tell me why I could help.” Dina insisted. She stopped in front of you and reached for your arms. You flinched away from her. “You went on patrol and you came back different. Eugene says you shot a stalker and it shook you? Why is Ellie the bad guy?”

“God, Dina! No one is the bad guy, okay?” You snapped, pulling away from her further, taking steps backwards. “It was time I got my priorities in order.”

Dina couldn’t reply before you turned on your heel and left the house, the door slamming behind you. She sighed and watched out the window as you headed for the stables.

Eugene was waiting for you when you arrived, tossing a pair of sunglasses at you. You almost fumbled, catching them at the last second. “Time you stop complaining, ain’t it?”

“Where’d you find ‘em?” You asked, sliding them on against the sunshine. You grinned and Eugene and he smiled back, leading you toward the two prepared horses.

“I didn’t. Someone passed them along for you.” Your grin dropped. You knew what that was code for. You busted a boot a week ago, a new pair waited on the porch in the days that followed. Now there was sunglasses while you were heading out on patrol.

“She should mind her own business.” You didn’t take the sunglasses off though. You needed them and they were a rarity these days. You pulled yourself up onto your horse, patting Henry on his neck as you headed for the gates.

“Think she feels bad. Don’t know why, ain’t her fault. Ain’t anyones fault. Accidents happen on a patrol, you shot the stalker. Everyone survived.” Eugene muttered waving the guards of the gate off. You nodded at Jesse when he shouted his goodbye.

“It’s a more personal issue.” You explained and Eugene nodded. You didn’t elaborate further and let him draw his own conclusions.

The patrol went easy, it was more a chance to enjoy the sun while riding through the forest. At the last outpost Eugene pulled his horse to a stop and you copied him, lifting your sunglasses to watch him.

“I told them we’d be late back. That we’d have a stop to make.” He offered you a grin and you took him up on that grin, turning your horse to where you knew he wanted to go.

///

You tossed yourself down on the sofa hand extended towards Eugene. He only laughed at you but he did in fact hand over the joint. You inhaled deeply from it and coughed a little.

“Doing God’s work, you know that?” You asked him with a sigh, tilting your head back to look at the ceiling above you.

“Feel like if anyone could do with some relaxin’ then it’d be you.” Eugene sat back on a stool, his own joint between his lips. “Now tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head, Princess.”

“It’s fucking stupid.” You sighed before inhaling again. You counted the cracks in the ceilings before throwing your arm over your eyes. “Darwin crossed a line. A big line.”

“Explained Joel near breaking his nose.” Eugene replied. You hadn’t seen Darwin in the month or so since that patrol but the rumors had reached you that he had returned with a bloody and bruised nose. “He hurt you?”

“He kissed me. Tried to prove some point that I didn’t like men cause I hadn’t tried them.” You explained and Eugene scoffed.

“I ain’t tried men and I sure as shit know I don’t like ‘em. Why would anyone want a man when there’s women?” Eugene asked. You couldn’t help but laugh at him, nodding in agreement. You inhaled again from the joint and lifted your arm to look at Eugene.

“Ellie, well she, I mean. You know how I felt about her, right?” You asked and Eugene only rolled his eyes releasing a puff of smoke. “I mean everyone knew how I felt. I loved her, I think.”

“Yeah, you’d have to be blind not to see it. That past tense is throwing me off though.” Eugene admitted. “What’s caused that?”

“Well she, I mean she saw it right? And she just thought I was kissin’ him. But she knew. Knew I didn’t like men. But she just went back to sleep. Now I ain’t blamin’ her. I ain’t. But why would she do that?” You asked Eugene. “I was just sitting there and he was holding me so I couldn’t pull away. She didn’t even try.”

“Sounds a lot like blame to me.” Eugene huffed and you frowned at him. “Probably sounded like it to Ellie too.”

“I’m not blaming her. I’m blaming Darwin. He’s the one who did it, he’s the one who hurt me.” You argued. “But she didn’t even second guess it.”

“You’re embarrassed. You never let Ellie see you anywhere less than perfect. Suddenly she sees you at the lowest you’ve ever been and you can’t cope with the embarrassment of that.” Eugene ran his fingers through his beard.

“Where in the fuck did that come from?” You asked in shock, sitting up on the couch. “You got a psychology degree or some shit?”

“I got life experience.” He rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “You can’t blame Ellie for Darwin’s actions.”

“I can blame her for her reaction. She said it was my fault, that I led him on. The way I acted and the way I dressed. Like I was asking for it.” You told him with a huff, inhaling one last time. “I shouldn’t have to dress a certain way to be safe.”

“No. You shouldn’t. But we also shouldn’t be stuck on this doomed rock fighting fucking monsters. Things aren’t always as they should be.” He sighed and you pouted at him. “Wearing the clothes you do makes you a target. Now it shouldn’t but it does. Being nice to Darwin though, that’s not leading him on. You were just tryna be his friend.”

“So now I have to dress like this all my life so men don’t think they got a right to me? I gotta forget what my momma thought me? Stop being pretty?” You asked and Eugene shrugged. “I don’t want to do that.”

“You already did. You don’t do your hair or makeup anymore. You’re wearing baggy clothes now.” Eugene pointed out and you sighed. He wasn’t wrong. “The thing is though. You’re still pretty. You’re beauty wasn’t cause a some powder or some curls. Your beauty comes from being the sweet girl you are.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Blame the weed.”

///

“I’ve got a present.” You could still feel the effects of the joint, partly responsible for your good mood when you stepped inside. You kicked off your boots and dropped your bag, passing the living room and heading for the kitchen only to pause and take two steps back.

Ellie was sitting on your sofa. Alone.

“Where’s Dina?” You asked quietly and Ellie shrugged, her lips pursed. “Thought I told you not to come around no more.”

“Dina said you changed your mind. To wait for you to get home so we could talk.” Ellie pushed herself up off the sofa. "But I'm guessing that's not true because it's not the kind of conversation to be had while high."

"Obviously it's not true. Didn't realize I'm not allowed to smoke. Guess I can't be pretty or fun anymore." You scoffed, shaking your head. "For someone who doesn't want to date me, you sure have a lot of expectations."

"I didn't say you couldn't be fun. I shouldn't have said what I said. I was wrong for that." Ellie sighed. "But I never said I didn't want to date you."

"Ellie, it might have taken me a while but I'm not an idiot. I get all dressed up so you'll look at me. I curl my hair hoping you'd run your fingers through it. I wear lipstick hoping I'll smudge it against your lips. I loved you and you never even looked at me twice." You sighed and stepped closer to Ellie. "You made me doubt my worth."

"Why would I need to look twice?" Ellie asked, a disbelieving laugh on her lips. She stepped closer to you, tilting her head and looking you over from head to toe. "I never looked away the first time."

"Oh."

Oh.

You swallowed nervously when she stepped closer, her hand landing on your hip softly to pull you the final step closer. You looked down at her hand and back up to her eyes. She was watching you, watching your reaction.

"I was trying to be better. Men look at you like they own you. People treat your beauty like it's theirs to take. I wanted to be better." She explained, barely a whisper. "I wanted you to know I liked you despite how tight your jeans were and how short your skirts were."

"How noble of you." You tried for sarcasm but it fell flat. "You could've just explained."

"I could've. Every time I tried I just sounded like an asshole." She shrugged and you swallowed, your mouth and throat dry. She was leaning in when you stepped back.

"I'm high. We shouldn't kiss like this." You whispered and Ellie nodded. She lifted a hand, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear with a small smile. "But I do wanna kiss you."

"How about you come find me when you're sober then?" She asked and you nodded, leaning into her hand. "We'll see about smudging some of that lipstick."

///

"Heading out, don't know when I'll be back." You yelled, hopping around to pull your boots on at the front door. You weren't quick enough and Dina leaned against the frame of the living room door, looking you over.

"You look hot," Dina observed and you nodded, fixing your hair in the mirror by the door. "Where are you headed?"

"Momma wouldn't ask me that, bless her soul." You huffed a laugh and swung your bag over your shoulder. "You and Jesse have manners while I'm gone, ya hear me?"

"You didn't answer the question!" Dina yelled and you opened the door, turning to look at her over your shoulder. "Where're you going?"

"Out, don't wait up, Mom." You called hurrying down the porch steps and getting away from her invasive questions. She knew where you were going. She had to. Ellie had been allowed back into the house and the pair of you were dancing around each other all week.

Ellie opened the garage door the second you knocked and you smiled brightly at her as you passed by her to get inside. You had been in Ellie's garage more times than you could count but you had never seen it so tidy.

"You clean up just for me?" You asked her as you dropped your bag by the end of her sofa. She rolled her eyes and shut the door but you could see the blush on her cheeks. She was embarrassed and it was oddly sweet.

"You dress up just for me?" Ellie asked, eyebrows raised. You on the other hand were prepared for her question. You nodded and held your arms out, a slow twirl just for her. You had no doubt she was getting the best view. "Damn, Princess.”

“It’s nice to have you appreciating me for once.” You hummed, finishing your twirl and leaning back against the arm of her sofa. “Make sure you get a good look.”

“For once?” She asked as she stepped away from the door and towards you. You only pursed your lips to hide your smile. “I once fell off Shimmer cause I was too busy staring at your ass.”

“You said your stirrup snapped!” You laughed in delight. She only rolled her eyes as she stepped closer. You spread your legs so that she could stand between them. “Tell me more.”

“That black eye I had two months back?” She asked and you nodded. “The door of the diner swung back and hit me because you had that tied off blouse on.”

“You liked that one?” You asked with a grin and she nodded, her hand coming to rest on the bare skin on your waist between your shorts and your top. “What about this one?”

It was a ribbed camisole that you had tucked up to leave your navel on display. Ellie took care to run her thumb under the fabric of it and let her hand slide from your waist across your stomach. She tapped her finger on the button of your shorts.

“Embroider these yourself?” She asked and you nodded in excitement, your fingers tracing down over the star embroidery.

“My momma thought me. And I have this book that helps with anything she didn’t get to teach me. It’s actually not so bad. And it’s a real constellation its-”

“Cassiopeia.” Ellie finished for you, her fingers following your path and tracing the familiar constellation. “I had a bit of a space thing for a while. Wanted to be an astronaut.”

“My momma found this Barbie doll for me once. It was Astronaut Barbie. She had this pink suit and she was so pretty and I knew if she was pretty and smart then I could be too.” Your voice grew quiet at the end and Ellie laughed, her crooked finger lifting your chin.

“That’s real cute, baby.” She teased and you chewed on your bottom lip. “So now you’re the prettiest girl in Jackson and the best damn tracker I’ve ever seen.”

“Prettiest girl?” You asked, an eyebrow raised. Ellie rolled her eyes and instead of giving in to you fishing for compliments she leaned in and kissed you.

It was only a sweet press of lips, innocent compared to what you had expected. Ellie pulled away only to press a trail of kisses down to your jaw and then followed the bone up to your ear.

“Now we can do one of two things.” She whispered, her teeth nipping at your ear lobe. “We can put on a movie, cuddle under a blanket and make out.”

“What’s my other option?” You asked, your breath hitching as she kissed down the side of your neck. Still just innocent pressed of her lips.

“I take off these pretty little shorts and I fuck you dumb.” Your whole body trembled as she spoke against your collar bone. “Oh you like that idea.”

///

“Please, please.” You’re sobbing at this point, your fingers tangled in Ellie’s hair. She’s been eating you out to the point of two orgasms and she’s only just pushing a finger into you now. “Ellie, please.”

“Please what?” Ellie asks innocently. You look down at her, releasing your death grip of her hair and she looks up at you. Her chin is shiny with you and she licks her lips as you watch. Your head thumps back against her pillows. “Use your words, I haven’t fucked you yet. You can’t be this dumb just from my finger and tongue.”

“Fuck me.” You moaned as she added a second finger. “Need you to fuck me.”

Ellie, never being one to be unprepared, had surprised you. While getting undressed you had found Ellie wearing a strap and it had sped up the whole process of getting clothes off.

“Hmm, I don’t know if you’re ready for my cock, baby.” She hums and you groan, your pussy tightening around her fingers. “Maybe another finger?”

“Ellie, babe, your cock, please. Please.” You were crying actual tears and begging without shame for her. You had wanted it in your since you had found it on her and you were so frustrated you had resorted to tears.

“Oh there’s my big dumb baby.” Ellie teased, withdrawing her fingers. You looked down at her and she was spreading your slick over the head of her cock. “Awh, is my baby crying? Your pussy so needy for my cock that it brought you to tears, huh?”

You could only nod, sniffling. She took your chin between her thumb and finger and tilted your head down so you could watch her cock press into you. “Fucking yes!”

“That feel good?” Ellie asked and you sobbed, pushing down against her slow place. “You gonna fuck yourself on my dick baby? Gonna do all the work?”

“Please. I can. I can ride you.” You offered but Ellie only shook her head.

“Not the first time. I’m gonna fuck you just like this for the first time. Then I’m gonna fuck you in every position you can contort this pretty body into. It’s gonna be a long night baby.” Ellie warned and your eyes rolled back in your head as your third orgasm overtook you.

///

Ellie was lying on her back, one arm behind her head and the other wrapped around you where you lay on her shoulder. She was tracing patterns against your spine and you were trying to guess the patterns but your brain was floating way above your body.

“I like when you dress up. I like how confident you are and how bright you smile when I like what you’re wearing.” Ellie told you quietly. “But like this? Sleepy and a mess. Well I just know I fell in love with that version of you, the morning we argued.”

“Fell in love?” You asked her, your thoughts coming back down to earth. You looked up at her, a slight tilt of your head but she didn’t look at you. “You’re in love with me?”

“How couldn’t I be, baby? A sweet little dumb baby in bed and smart, gorgeous woman who’s a force unto her own out on the streets of Jackson. You don’t make it hard to love you.” She promised, pushing you hair behind your ear.

“You already know I love you too. Even if you do bully me in bed.” You giggled and she grinned at you. “It’s kind of hot actually.”

“Hmm, we’ll explore that another time, get some sleep.” She whispered, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[redrose10]

Here is chapter 1! I hope you like it. Chapter 2 will come out in a few days. Comments are appreciated!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 1,693

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

The weather outside did not match the feeling in the conference room. Outside the window you saw the bright sunny sky, not a cloud in sight. You longed for the warmth to touch your skin. Inside this room you felt cold. The walls were a dark cherry mahogany. A marble sculpture of a horse sat in the corner. You’re sure it cost more than a years worth salary for you. You chewed on your lip, a nervous habit you developed at some point. Everyone was patiently waiting for the same person to arrive so you could finally get this over with. Never would you have imagined you’d be in a position like this. Being married off to a man you’d never met. You knew of him of course. Who didn’t? Min Yoongi was the CEO of one of the largest tech companies in the world. He was the sole heir to a large fortune being that the Min family was one of the most powerful and wealthiest families in all of Asia. He was dangerously handsome with an arrogant attitude. A womanizer who was constantly in the media and not in a positive way. Just a few months ago we was caught on camera being tossed out of a club for punching the bartender. The video showed him staggering around so drunk he could barely stand straight. He shouted some choice words before shoving three random women into the back of his Rolls Royce and having the driver speed off. Of course the poor bartender didn’t even file any charges knowing he’d never win against the Min family power and money.

Shareholders started worrying about Yoongi’s ability to lead the company, some even demanding he step down. People were uncertain if they should invest in a company run by a sloppy drunk with clear emotional baggage. Stocks in Min Enterprises began to plummet which meant the Min family money started to dwindle and only then did they decide it was time to step in. Which is how you ended up here, sitting across from Yoongi’s parents and some of the other higher ranking officials at Min Enterprises. They had come to the conclusion that it was time for Yoongi to settle down. He needed to find a nice wholesome woman who could help him clean up his image, turn his life around, maybe have a future heir and turn himself into a well respected family man. The problem with that was that Yoongi had never lasted more than a couple weeks with any woman since he was about 19. Often going for quick hookups with women he met at clubs or random models he got ahold of that just wanted to use his name to further their career. In his mind it was easier. No strings attached. No chance of falling in love. No heartbreak. Just sex and send them on their way.

You were a simple girl. You didn’t come from money or power. You loved flowers, blue hydrangeas were your favorite. You often enjoyed a mug of warm milk before bed or maybe some chamomile tea if you were feeling adventurous. Most of your clothes were thrifted and definitely not name brands. You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend and less than four flings. You were the exact opposite of Yoongi and the women you often saw him photographed with.

Which is exactly why the Min family thought you were the perfect match to save their wayward son and bring a good reputation back to the Min name. You had no one else to thank but your old college roommate and best friend Jimin. After graduation he moved away but you kept in touch with each other. One day you get a voicemail from your friend asking you to come visit him in Korea. After calling him back and him assuring you the trip was all expenses paid by himself you agreed. Little did you know of the secret motive. Jimin had moved to Seoul after graduation, quickly getting a job at Min Enterprises. He started as just an assistant to Yoongi’s assistant. Over time Jimin was able to work his way up and was now a member of the board of directors and one of Yoongi’s best friends. When Jimin heard of the Min family plan he immediately thought of you and threw your name into the contenders ring as a potential suitor for Yoongi. You had recently complained about wanting to get out of your small town and Jimin recalled several instances where you mentioned your ever failing love life and non existent bank account so what better way to get around that than to marry a handsome young billionaire.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone cleared their throat. Looking up you were greeted by the handsome face of Kim Seokjin, one of the Min family lawyers. “Can we be expecting Yoongi any time today?”, he asked probably more sarcastically than he had planned. As the elder Mr. Min started reaching for his phone the large double doors swung open and swiftly slammed shut as the man you were all waiting for stomped over and took his seat next to you, clearly agitated at having to be there.

You knew that Yoongi was handsome, most of the world knew that, but seeing him in person was different than any photos you’d ever seen. Soft perfect skin, piercing cat like eyes, silky jet black hair that he had started to let grow out. He was wearing a fitted dark green suit that probably cost more than every piece of clothing you owned. His cologne intoxicating, a mix of cinnamon and vanilla. He smelled like comfort and warmth.

When he realized you were staring at him he looked over at you turning to a face of disgust before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the lawyer, “Jin, can we get this over with? I have more important events to attend to.” You watched the lawyer lay out several sheets of paper in front of the two of you. “Right so these are the basics of the contract. It’s pretty standard. The Min family will release an official statement announcing the marriage of their only son Yoongi and Miss Y/N. The wedding will take place shortly after.” You watched as Jin turned to you placing an additional paper down in front of you and pointing to the stipulations as he read them off, “Y/N you will take the Min last name. You will move into Yoongi’s penthouse. You will agree to attend all social and/or professional functions with Yoongi and occasionally you will have to go alone as the Min representative. You will be given a credit card to make any and all purchases for any thing you need or want. And lastly you will uphold a satisfactory image as to not taint the Min image. Also please be aware that a divorce is not an option and the contract will only become nullified in the event that either Yoongi or Y/N were to pass away leaving the other as a widow.” You nodded in understanding while staring down at the list of demands in front of you. Things could be worse you thought but this still wasn’t ideal, especially not having the option for a divorce.

Jin turned his attention over to Yoongi placing a similar paper down in front of him and going over his stipulations which were much simpler than yours, basically don’t get caught with other women and don’t get drunk in public. You scoffed knowing that he would struggle to uphold his end of the contract. You were blindsided though when Jin read off the final stipulation, “After the wedding Yoongi will make an initial donation in his and Y/N’s name in the amount of $5 million US dollars to ‘Little Rays of Sunshine Orphanage’ in Y/N’s hometown. Then he will make an additional $1 million donation every year thereafter for the duration of the marriage.” Your lips turned up into a small smile. You had jokingly told Jimin that you’d agree to this whole ordeal if Yoongi donated a large amount of money to the orphanage that you grew up in. You didn’t think he’d actually get it done but you were a little relieved knowing that at least going through with this was going to benefit many children in need. You made a mental note to thank Jimin later. Deep in your thoughts you hadn’t noticed how Yoongi had looked over at you with furrowed brows questioning that request.

Jin placed a pen down in front of you before clapping his hands together, “Alright now that that’s out of the way the two of you just need to sign and date here and here and we can all go on with our day.” Trying your best to hide your shaking hand you gently grasped the ivory pen taking a deep breath before signing away your life to this man you met less than 15 minutes ago. Handing the pen over to Yoongi he glared at you before releasing a loud sigh and roughly taking the pen from your grasp signing away his name. Once it was done Mrs. Min began to speak but was cutoff by Yoongi loudly pushing his chair back and slamming the pen down on the glass table, “I have places to be.” And with that he stormed out of the room loudly slamming the door behind him. Mr. And Mrs. Min along with the rest of the elders followed not long after giving you a nod goodbye. You looked up to Jin who gave you an apologetic smile. He patted your hand as he continued to pack up his belongings, “He’ll come around Y/N. Just give it some time. He puts on a tough act but underneath that harsh exterior is really a sweet kid who got lost along the way.” Going into this you thought maybe this could actually work out and the two of you could at the very least pretend to love each other. Now, after meeting for the first time, you’re not so sure.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

hii can u please write an emily x reader fic where emily sees readers sh scars for the first time? and kisses them or smt? if not don’t worry :))

Of course! :) Thanks so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!

Tracing You

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: past self-harm, mental illness, trauma, implied sexual assault/abuse (nothing graphic though!), mentions of afab body parts, discussions of sex Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: You and Emily have been dating for over a month, and you've still haven't let her get to second base. You're scared she'll see your self-harm scars and run for the hills. But, eventually, you'll have to expose them.

You knew it was coming. You always knew, and you always hated it, hated to cut everything short.

Emily was kissing you hard, passionately, as you both lounged on her couch, and you kissed her back. The movie you’d started earlier was long-forgotten. You loved kissing Emily. You could kiss her forever. You loved the way she pushed her body into yours until she was nearly on top of you, as if she physically couldn’t stand to be apart from you–even one centimeter apart. You loved the way she snuck her tongue into your mouth, somehow gentle and rough at the same time. You loved how her fingers felt against your flushed skin–cool and electric. The way she smiled into you. She gave you butterflies.

But you also knew that any minute now, she’d pull up on your shirt, as if asking for permission. You knew that her hands would sneak a little higher up on your torso, and she’d watch you to make sure you were okay. And you knew that, just like you always did, you’d gently push her hands back down, gently tug your shirt back into place, and continue kissing her like nothing had happened.

But that was the problem–nothing had happened. Nothing would happen because you couldn’t bear to let Emily see what was under your shirt. It wasn’t that you were modest, that you had a hard time with sex. What you had a hard time with were the scars that dotted your breasts like a galaxy, scars that even the best of sports bras couldn’t hide entirely. You wanted Emily and, god knows, she wanted you. But you just knew that she’d see them–see those red streaks painted across you like an oil painting of flames–and one of two things would happen.

She might see them and feel sorry for you. And you’d seen that kind of sorry before. It was the kind of sorry that swallowed relationships whole, that changed the way someone thought about you, looked at you, loved you. And you hated that. You were six years into recovery, no relapses, and you were proud of that. You wanted the people who loved you, who saw you at your most vulnerable, to know the you that you used to be, but to love the you that was now. And so often it seemed that people got stuck on the you who dragged safety pins across your skin. You weren’t her anymore. You’d worked hard not to be.

Even worse, Emily might see the scars and find you disgusting. She’d see that there had been something wrong with you, with your brain. She’d know that at some level, there was still something wrong with you. After all, your trauma, your mental illness–they hadn’t gone away. You had spent a whole lot of years in therapy and on medication to deal with them, but they were still a part of you, a part of your story. They were a part that was hard to look at. Even for you. You found those parts of yourself ugly, believed they deserved to be hidden–much like your scars. How much uglier would they be to Emily? Emily, who wasn’t in your mind, who didn’t know what had come before or during or after, and could only see what was left–the evidence that you were not okay.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Emily’s fingers slipped under your shirt, tentatively dancing up your torso. You let out a shaky sigh and grabbed her hands in yours, deepening the kiss, hoping it was enough to distract her. But it wasn’t. Not this time.

She pulled back and watched you with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” you prompted, flushing and trying to act like nothing was wrong.

She bit at one of her nails as she watched you, and you pulled her hand away to hold it between both of yours.

“Are you…” She hesitated, like she didn’t quite know how to ask. “Do you want to… break up?” She looked sad, scared. And, for your part, you were sure you looked absolutely shocked.

“What!? No! No, Em, of course not!” You ran gentle fingers over her face, trying desperately to communicate that you absolutely didn’t want to break up and would, in fact, like to never, ever break up.

“You just…” She sighed, picking at her fingernails again. “I love making out with you, but you never want to go any further. And I get it if you’re not ready, that’s completely fine. It’s just… it’s been a while, and I want to make sure you’re not here because… you know, because you feel like you have to be.”

You stared at your hands. You felt like your guilt might swallow you whole. Here you’d thought you were playing it cool, but realistically, what would have been the end game? Never having sex with Emily? Never letting her see your body? You’d been in relational limbo for over a month now, and it had been stupid, so stupid, to assume there wouldn’t be any consequences. She thought you didn’t like her! She thought you weren’t as into her as she was into you! And it was exactly the opposite–you were so into her that it scared you, so into her that it was scarier than it had ever been to show your scars. The thought of losing her–already, even so early on–was terrifying.

“Emily,” you started, rubbing your thumb over her hand. “I’m here because I want to be. I really like you.”

She blinked, thinking harder. “Am I… am I doing something? You know, that makes you… not want to–”

“Oh god,” you groaned, burying your head in your hands. “No, Em. No. You’re beautiful. You’re perfect. I do want to.”

You sighed and looked at her. Her head bent, hands worried. Your self-consciousness was making Emily self-conscious. And you really couldn’t bear that she’d think less of herself because of you.

“Take off my shirt,” you said, bluntly.

“What?”

“Take it off. It’s okay.”

Emily fiddled with a stray piece of upholstery on the couch. “I don’t know, Y/N, this doesn’t seem like the right mood for—”

“Emily,” you pleaded, squeezing one of her hands. You knew if you didn’t do it now, you might never. “Please.”

Emily watched you with concern, but did as you asked, slowly lifting your shirt up and over your head.

You looked up to the ceiling, exhaling shakily, willing yourself not to cry. She would see them. She was seeing it. She saw them. You didn’t know if you could ever look her in the eyes again. You didn’t even know if you could look at yourself.

You felt Emily’s hand press gently into yours, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Then you felt one of her fingers, cold for the shock of it more than the actual temperature, at the top of your breasts, the part that peeked out from the bra, littered with angry, red lines that had only somewhat faded over the years.

You felt her trace one of the scars, the whole, long trajectory of it, with her finger, and then when she reached the end, she leaned forward and planted a kiss at its zenith. Your breath caught in your throat as she continued following the scars, kissing you again and again and again until–though you’d worked so hard not to–you had stray tears leaking down the side of your face.

Emily grasped your face in her hands, so gently, so gingerly, and lowered your head, using her thumbs to brush the tears from under your eyes. You still couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Y/N, look at me,” she said softly, caressing your face. You finally forced yourself to look into her eyes, and what you saw there surprised you. It wasn’t pity and it wasn’t disgust. It was something new. Admiration and respect. And–maybe, just maybe–love?

“You’re beautiful,” she told you, staring at you pointedly, holding your face so that you couldn’t look away. “You’re beautiful, and that’s all we’re gonna say about it unless you want to talk more.”

“I feel like you should–” you said, your voice breaking a bit as you sniffled. “You should know why and– and when, and–”

“I am happy to listen to anything you want to tell me,” she assured you. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to. It’s your story, and you can tell me what you want, when you want. Believe me, though,” she said, smiling mischievously. “I don’t need any more information tonight if you’re not ready.”

“Really?” you asked.

Showing the scars had been hard enough. You didn’t really want to talk about your hellish high school and college years, the man who had touched you there and made you want to rip all your skin off, the years of therapy, the relapses, the depression, the medication. You’d tell her. You’d tell her all of it, you knew. But right now, you wanted to reap the rewards of being brave. The rewards being Emily.

Emily nodded and winked at you, then leaned in to brush her lips against your ear. “Y/N,” she whispered. “The only information I needed was that you had boobs under there.”

You blushed and grinned at her, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another heated kiss.

When you pulled away, Emily was nearly panting. You smirked. “I showed you mine. It's your turn.”

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 12

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 12 - Let's Chat

Tags: Swearing, canon typical violence, therapy, mentions of sexual assault, murder, torture, strangulation. No beta reader, mistakes are all me. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 6.6k

AO3

“I think this is the first time you had a good excuse for missing a session that wasn’t entirely work related.”

You laugh as your therapist scribbles information on the notepad resting on her thighs. She was sitting on the white chair across from your position on the couch in your apartment. Brian really called out all the stops in making this happen.

You have been seeing Nina Davis for the last four years as part of mandatory therapy because of your unique situation in joining the CIA. Whenever you were stateside, you had to see her and thanks to Rebecca Wilson, you get to see her for six months instead of a couple sessions snuck in before you were deployed once more. The CIA always wanted to get you back working in the field as soon as you were debriefed and cleared.

Nina was a thin woman with well-manicured nails, you couldn’t remember a time they weren’t perfectly filed and polished. Often, they were clear coated but depending on the season or holiday, she dazzled with some color. Like now her nails are colored burgundy that compliment her rust color sweater. Since it was Sunday, she has on jeans and tennis shoes which was about as casual as Nina got. In her office, it was always business casual. You noticed it was only in the last year and a half Nina’s straight blonde hair was paling as she pushed fifty. It was still a lovely shade that made her just as beautiful as it frames her face and slides across her shoulders as she moves.

It makes your thoughts shift to how Emily’s hair does the same but since hers was longer, it cascaded so smoothly like water. You wonder how it would feel to run your hands through it …

Then you hear your name being spoken with increasing urgency to get your attention. You look at Nina apologetically. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Where did you go just now?” she asks in that annoyingly knowing therapeutic curiosity.

“Thinking about work.” She doesn’t buy it and raises a brow to have you elaborate further. “Fine. A co-worker.”

“Are you getting along well with them? You mentioned that Prentiss was causing you problems that first week.”

You shrug, not realizing that what you thought was a simple relieved smile was broad and bright. “Yeah, things are much better. We talked it out and came to a mutual understanding.”

Nina squints wisely. “You have a new friend.”

Damn she’s still good at this shit, you think.

“I wouldn’t call us friends. Not sure people like us define our …” you struggle to find the right words for you and Emily as your curling fingers circle one another in front of you as if trying to grab onto the right words. You’re coworkers for sure. And she has gone out of her way to make you be social with the BAU. You have a lot in common but enough differences to keep each other on a playful edge. The woman knew how to make you feel safe around her and not be on guard.

“ … uh, I guess we’re a budding friendship?” You wince. “That sounds lame.”

“It’s not lame at all.” You smile. “It’s difficult for you to connect with new people so this is really nice to hear.”

“Yeah. The BAU has been really cool. I even got a desk and everything,” you admit fondly.

“Good. You’re integrating well.” She scribbles more notes down. “Any issues come up with your past?”

You think back to a few gaffs with Prentiss, but it works out now that she has clearance. “I did let it slip that Rebecca bailed me out of the AWOL situation without specifics. Brian doesn’t know …” you say warily.

Nina chuckles. “Not the first time you’ve told me this, and he doesn’t have to know now. He gave the section chief some leeway in your background. So, this shouldn’t be a problem.” She looks up at you. “Does she know anything else?”

“That I’m a spy. She was one, too.”

“Common ground is nice. Anything else?” She senses you’re hiding something and pushes gently.

You look away with your tongue firmly pressing against the back of your teeth. Your knee starts bouncing frantically. Nina knows the signs of when you are delving deep into your childhood trauma.

“I …” You clear your throat and rest your head against the back of the couch cushions. “The case I worked with Prentiss and Rossi. The unsub was a victim of sexual assault.” Nina is quiet, letting the silence be a sign to continue to share further if you’re comfortable. “The guy she wanted to kill was an unconfirmed rapist in the eyes of the law. But she knew he was guilty and got off on technicalities with a lot of money getting good lawyers. So, despite the fact that I wanted her to slice his throat open and watch the fucker die …” You stop there as your eyes get wet with tears and work your lips as you reach down to find the courage you need continue. “… I shared … I shared that I knew how she felt … as a survivor. Talked her down.”

“That had to be difficult.”

“Yeah, it really fucking was and I feel so guilty about it.”

She says your name softly. “Why is that?”

“Because …” you suddenly lean forward over your legs, your arms bracing you upright while balling your hands into fists. “… I wasn’t honest with her. I couldn’t fucking tell her that I killed my abuser when she never could. It’s fucking bullshit what happened to her. Me. Anyone this happens to. I fucking hate that I had to fucking lie to her so much, but I knew if I said it, she’d snap and try to kill her mark and then she’d be shot to death.”

“You didn’t want her to get hurt. Or die.”

“No!” You shake your head and growl. “She didn’t want to die. She just wanted justice.”

“You’re still trying to reconcile saving her life by lying. You’ve done that numerous times in the past. But this was different.”

“Yes!” You look up with wild eyes. “Of course it was!”

Nina sets her pen down, cradling the notepad as she looks sympathetically at you. “Did you talk to Brian about this?”

“No …”

“How about someone from the Prometheus unit?”

You sigh and lean back. “No.”

“Just me then.”

You twist your lips and sigh again. “No. Well, not exactly.”

“Can you explain further?” she says with gentle caution.

“Well, I didn’t out right say I was feeling guilty, but Emily knows that I killed my abuser. And she’s a profiler. She knows how to add all that shit up to a reasonable conclusion.” You hold your hands up in defeat. “She’s not stupid.”

“You don’t share these things so easily. Or at all.” Her blue eyes are scrutinizing you and you feel exposed. “What’s changed?”

You nervously lick your lips before biting the lower half from spilling how your heart has developed a rather large soft spot for the section chief. After a few beats of uncomfortable silence on your part, not Nina’s, she sits back up and accepts the non-answer. You know she has suspicions. “You don’t have to tell me. But it would be a good idea to revisit this at our next session since you’re going to be with these people for another …” She flips through her notes. “Five months?”

You nod in confirmation.

“Good. Now … let’s shift gears with how you’re handling the Sicarius case.”

Non Boss Chat Created at 1258

Penelope Garcia invited JJ and Tara Lewis to the chat.

Penelope Garica changed their username to Queen Penelope.

Queen Penelope sent at 1301: GUYS EMILY FLAKED OUT ON ASKING WHITLOCK OUT!!!

JJ joins the chat.

JJ sent 1325: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME WHEN?!

Queen Penelope sent 1325: Yesterday. She was all set to do it but then just came back and said she changed her mind.

Queen Penelope sent 1326: I want to know WHY

Queen Penelope changed JJ username to Cheeto Mom.

Cheeto Mom sent 1327: Spill. What exactly happened???

Cheeto Mom sent 1327: And WTF Pen. Really? Cheeto Mom?

Queen Penelope sent 1327: Yes! You are a mom and like Cheetos! So duh, Cheeto Mom!

Tara Lewis joins the chat.

Cheeto Mom sent 1328: Why can’t I be a queen like you?

Queen Penelope changed Cheeto Mom username to Queen Cheeto Mom.

Queen Penelope sent 1329: Better?

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1331: Very

Tara Lewis sent 1331: What the hell did I just walk in on?

Queen Penelope changes Tara Lewis username to Bisexual Goddess.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1332: Emily was going to ask Whitlock out and didn’t!

Bisexual Goddess sent 1332: WHAT

Bisexual Goddess sent 1332: You are all not playing with me right? Also, I approve of the name change.

Queen Penelope sent 1333: We are not! And Yay!

Queen Penelope sent 1333: Our Emily really likes her but I don’t know why she doesn’t want to now.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1335: I repeat SPILL.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1335: WHAT HAPPENED???

Queen Penelope sent 1340: OK. We were at Quantico yesterday to deal with Spiderboy. When cutie left the lair I asked Emily about the whole into her thing. Cuz HELLO Emily is so loving the attention she was getting from her at Fireside. Emily denied I confirmed and after an amazing pep talk by yours truly she got up to go ask her out. Then when she came back she was all sad and that made me sad and when I asked why she was sad she just said she changed her mind. And when I pressed further, she told me to drop it rather angrily 😭

Bisexual Goddess sent 1350: That’s weird. Even for Emily. Did she say anything about why she changed her mind. Did she even talk to Whitlock?

Queen Penelope sent 1353: No. She didn’t. I got that out of her but nothing else.

Queen Penelope sent 1354: OOOOOOO maybe we can get Rebecca in on this to help!

Bisexual Goddess sent 1355: HELL NO! Were you NOT there on Friday when I said she hates people meddling in her love life? Need to let these two sort it out. Least we know our girl didn’t fuck things up with her mouth.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1401: Buuuuuuut … we can at least find out wtf happened with Emily.

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1402: I’ll talk to Emily and see what happened.

Queen Penelope sent 1403: WHEN

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1405: At soccer right now.

Bisexual Goddess sent 1406: They winning?

Queen Penelope sent 1406: Is Michael scoring all the goals?

Queen Cheeto Mom sent 1415: Yes and Yes 😊 One time at the wrong goal post LOL

User45125: Same shit on my end. Life. Will life get in the way with you being around?

FlamePit23: I’m not a psychic. But the plan is to be more active. Bunch of idiots on this board need a proper education and happy to enroll them in how to not blow yourself up and die and instead find the rush of fire to cover up all those lies.

User45125: All the lies of the world.

FlamePit23: And humanity.

User45125: Still the same old prophetic sounding girl I know. Good. Had any fun lately?

FlamePit23: Minor annoyances. Don’t want to go too big just yet until I’m ready for the next masterpiece.

User45125: Maybe I can help with that.

FlamePit23: That right? Do tell.

“Haven’t heard from him since,” you explain to Emily in her office. You wanted to make sure to brief her in full then just the quick update by text last night on your personal phone. Emily had turned one of the computer screens so the two of you could view the messages on either side of her desk.

“We need to tread carefully with this.” Emily leans back while running the fingers of one hand over the palm of the other. “After Green, he might sense another mole.”

You nod. “Agreed. I’m optimistic he sees me as the real user. Confirms the user is female like I anticipated, but until we know how he wants to help; we’re in a holding pattern until he explains further.”

“I’ll get Garcia on requisitioning burner phones for your use. If this continues, he’ll want to reach out and talk to you. Someone like this FlamePit23 will want to remain off the grid.”

“Makes sense. We’ll have to see how Pen’s doing with the digital footprints.”

“And you not having one will work in our favor. Soon as he sees your face, he’ll go snooping.” She looks at you and then nods. “Finally, your mysterious past works in our favor.”

You chuckle. “I thought my mysterious past was already working in our favor when I showed up at your door like the CIA leprechaun.”

Emily’s reaction is one sculpted brow raising.

“Uh …” You bring your arms up in a circle. “Stipend. Pot of gold.”

She remains unimpressed.

You lower your arms in a huff. “I didn’t wanna say I was your sugar mama again but …”

“Whitlock!” She growls and throws a pen sideways at you. “That’s not funny!”

You bring your hands up to deflect the pen that ricochets off your palm and to the floor. “Why I said pot of gold!”

“Just … go.” She waves you away. “Out! Go talk to Garcia and get your cover sorted.”

You pivot onto your feet in a flourish that has you standing at attention in the next second. You salute playfully. “Yes, ma’am.” And then before Emily had a chance to throw the piece of paper she was balling up; you make a swift exit.

Emily still chucks it after you, watching it arc in the air before it pitifully hits the floor at the threshold of her office door then rolls to a stop. Her face deeply sets into a frown as she is left wondering why you must remain so fucking adorable. It didn’t make this easier – stepping away because you clearly had no interest in her. Only this Nina that Brian set you up with. And fuck, Emily had been so sure Penelope was right in convincing her to go after you because she had just overheard how you were embarrassed singing in front of her and confirming that she had clearance. It made her feel nervous and excited all at once and it wasn’t a mixture of emotions she would have thought possible to feel for another woman again.

“Hey, Em.” JJ pokes her head through the doorway and looks down at the ball of paper. “Uh, you busy?”

“No, JJ. Come on in.”

She reaches down to pick up the paper. “You sure?” JJ shakes the wad and throws it back to Emily as she stands up to close the door.

Emily catches it with a flinch. “Yes. Why?”

“Whitlock told us a tale of woe of you trying to papercut her to death,” she says with a twinkle in her eye.

“As usual, that woman likes to exaggerate.” She sets the paper aside with more force than intended. “What can I do for you, JJ?”

“Well, I was curious about something.” She doesn’t elaborate further as she sits across from Emily.

Emily’s danger sense starts to go off, and her brown eyes narrow suspiciously. “About what exactly?”

That accusing tone makes JJ sit up straighter and grins knowingly. “About the woman you tried to hit that with when you should be hitting on her.”

“God damn it, Penelope …” Emily complains, lowering her head over the desk as she grips the roots of grey hair with frustration. She should’ve known Penelope would have said something even though she warned her not to. “Who else knows?”

“Just me and Tara.” Something inaudible was heard and JJ leaned in closer. “What was that?”

“I said shoot me.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, even for you Emily.” JJ tightens her lips at seeing her friend so wound up. “I’m just here to understand what happened.”

“You’re here to spy on me and report back.”

“Emily, look …” She stops, disappointed that Emily hasn’t looked up yet. “Hey, I rather I wasn’t talking to your head.

JJ watches as Emily’s shoulders dramatically rise and fall before she looks up and lets her hands fall against the desk. “She had a date.”

That made JJ jerk back in confusion. “Whitlock?” Emily nods. “So, you didn’t ask her out because she had a date? Suppose that doesn’t surprise me. Doesn’t take much for you to run away.”

Emily pushes herself up with an elbow and leans back. “Gee. Thanks, JJ.”

“It’s true! You suck at dating.” Her face drops with gentle sincerity. “And you suck at noticing when people have the hots for you.” She dramatically points to herself with two thumbs. “Case in point.”

She laughs morosely. “Fair. But keep in mind we were in two different places mentally and emotionally when that was happening.”

The back-and-forth affection that went beyond friendship just never connected at the right time for JJ and Emily. They long made peace with that fact years ago that it wasn’t meant to be. JJ moved on with Will and it really saddened her that Emily hadn’t found that special someone yet – which was by design or her friend’s awkwardness, the jury was still out. She knew that Emily wanted all of those things – a partner she could trust and confide in and start a long-term relationship with that meant moving in together and perhaps even marriage. The woman across from her kept self-sabotaging any chance of that from blossoming so far.

“And it doesn’t matter,” Emily states again.

“You need glasses because that girl was all over you on Friday with hands and eyes. Sometimes, those eyes of hers actually found yours when she wasn’t staring at your tits,” JJ teases.

“Then why was she so apologetic about this Nina?” she counters in anger, but it made her feel better that you were staring at her boobs.

“Wow.” JJ is shocked. “You really like her.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She brought her hand up to purposefully cut JJ off. “I mean it. I made my decision, and I stand by it. And I swear that the three of you need to stay out of it. I’m not going after Whitlock since she’s already maybe probably has someone.”

“Bu-“

“I mean it, JJ.” She glares hard at her. “And I don’t want to have this conversation again with any of you. And I fucking swear if Whitlock hears about this …”

“Hey, Em. Come on. We wouldn’t do anything like that to embarrass you. Or her. That’s crossing a line none of us would do.”

Emily seems to be appeased and nods curtly. “Good.”

“But …”

She groans in annoyance but allows JJ to continue.

“… I think it says a lot that you were going to take a chance on her. But making a decision on a partially overheard conversation doesn’t do your profiling skills justice.”

“What are you on about?” she asks, incredulously.

“All I’m saying, Em, is that you are thinking with your emotions and not that beautiful brain of yours. Since when do us profilers make a case based on a half overheard conversation and jump to only one outcome?” Emily looks to JJ as the blonde profiler nods at seeing her friend’s mind start to work. “You need more info.”

That conversation never had a chance to happen, and Emily was left ruminating on JJ’s advice when she sent the team out on a case in Hayden, ID four days later. The city was close to the Washington State border and a twenty-minute drive from Coeur d’Alene, ID. A body of an adult female had been found dumped in the woods with strangulation marks, broken fingers, burn marks, and shot twice in the chest. The victimology matched similar murders near Spokane and local authorities needed help finding the unsub before more victims appeared.

Emily had Rossi stay behind to keep working on Green to see if he would cooperate, which was turning into a colder lead by the day. They were trying hard to keep him out of prison and convince him that his cooperation would benefit all parties involved in capturing Sicarius. He keeps refusing to assist and the cognitive interview. The BAU was sympathetic to his plight, but Green has been warned that FBI benevolence can last for so long, especially since they have another way to contact Sicarius. So far, he doesn’t either care or believe them.

Back in Idaho, the four of you are split up to maximize resources and gather information. Alvez and Lewis went to Spokane, leaving you and JJ to work with the sheriff’s department, interview witnesses, family and friends, and examine the crime scene. You check in with your counterparts to compare notes several times a day to work the profile in two cities and update Prentiss and Garcia to narrow the search, fine tune the data.

Finally, you struck gold with Tommy Ferguson, a fifty-one-year-old local trucker who was physically abused by his alcoholic father. He had also been forced to watch his father beat and rape his mother repeatedly as punishment for being a bad child. When CPS* got involved, Tommy was living in Washington state and removed him from the home and placed in foster care. He passed around from home to home until he was of age. With this, he had a long list of anti-social traits that therapists tried to work through, but he often got into fights and petty thefts, causing small stints in jail. That is where he met Andrew Loyd as his cellmate, who was charged with involuntary manslaughter on his second DUI. The two of them met up three years ago after Loyd finished his stint in at the Idaho State Corrections, and soon the two spiraled into drugs, alcohol and violent tendencies against several women in the beginning when reunited. Loyd was the dominant in the relationship and kept escalating the partnership until they were torturing and murdering their victims.

This is why you were now outside a warehouse that was being rented by Ferguson with the reunited BAU and the local SWAT team. The contract had an agreement to store his cab, equipment, and trailers that he couldn’t store at his mobile home since there wasn’t enough room on the lot. It was also a potentially easy location to bring their victims to and from under the cover of Ferguson’s job. That was the running theory.

You convinced local police to keep Ferguson and Loyd off media outlets and take them by surprise as it was unknown if they had a current victim, and they were conveniently scarce. There were no missing people filed that fit their profile but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t inside the building. You couldn’t confirm and you didn’t want to escalate the timeframe of their kill and make a run for it. There were officers watching Ferguson’s trailer since he became a suspect but there was no recent sign of him. Even neighbors hadn’t seen him or Loyd lately. Loyd had no address and lived off the grid, presumably with Ferguson. That made the warehouse the most likely location for the pair.

The plan is simple. Enter quietly and take them by surprise once confirmed by plain clothes officers that they had visuals on the unsubs. The BAU and SWAT surrounded the area under the cover of Amazon and UPS trucks throughout the day setting up the operation. The vehicles would back up against the driveways and have officers secretly enter the buildings through the garages on either side of the targeted building, already approved by the owners of those properties. They would operate business as usual while feds and officers were staging the op in a locked back room. This was to keep the suspects contained in the area, minimize damage to the surrounding areas and loss of life, and hopefully protect any captured victims.

It was just after 10am when Luke and Tara took the lead heading behind the building while you and JJ had the front. Gun drawn, you nod to JJ and test the doorknob and true to the lifestyle in this area of Idaho, the door was unlocked while someone was onsite. You quietly continue to turn it and push the door open ajar. Silence greets you and nothing catches your visual interest. You signal to the team on how to split up and cover ground. JJ would be with you.

You and JJ broke off left and soon the beloved voice of Garcia was in your ear.

“Luke was useful and found an electrical box by his location. They missed it at first since it was painted over to look like part of the building.”

Then Prentiss spoke up. “It appears to be done on purpose. These guys are smart so be careful.”

“And it means I have access to the video feed. I will be your eyes my Padawans.”

You and JJ signal all clears and continue to move deeper into the warehouse. You are about to turn into the next room when Garcia shouts. “STOP! Do not go in there! Both of them are in the conference room with all sorts of nasty things that can kill you.”

You and JJ exchange looks, and you point to yourself, then her, and then the door signaling how you can take them by surprise. What you didn’t know is that Prentiss and Garcia can see you and JJ as well on the live feed by a camera in your area.

“Stand down. There’s no victim in there. Wait for further back up,” Prentiss orders.

“Uh … something spooked them. They’re grabbing things, Emily.” Penelope’s worried voice hits the adrenaline you have into overdrive.

“God damn SWAT moved too close to the windows.” Yeah, Prentiss was pissed. So are you.

You hear the erratic sounds of metal being moved around and a clip of ammo clicking into place. There were also careless footfalls that were smacking into furniture. With only seconds to think this through you look to JJ and signal for her to back up and they should take them as they leave. She nods in agreement as you holster your gun.

“What the hell are you doing, Whitlock? Pull your firearm out.” You ignore Emily because you know what you were doing. “I know you can hear me. Pull out your weapon!”

You both brace yourselves against the walls as you hear steps getting closer, the handle starts to shake, and soon the door swung open towards the inside. Your focus was on the first one that came through the door, and it was the lanky, greasy brown-haired Loyd. You grab his gun arm viciously and spin him around so his back slams up against the wall so hard that his baseball cap gets knocked off and falls to the ground. With you in control of where the gun is pointed, you and JJ remain safe.

The events happened so fast that Ferguson didn’t know what to make of it and when he passed through the doorway, his attention was with the struggle his partner was having with you. All it took was a well place crack of her gun handle on Ferguson’s shoulder to force him to drop his weapon. She kicks it out of reach and grabs him by the shirt collar. “FBI! Don’t move!” and places the barrel of the gun against his head for emphasis.

You put immediate pressure on the outside of Loyd’s arm against his radial nerve that causes him to cry out in excruciating pain that forces him to drop the weapon. You then twist his arm while kicking the gun far away from both men, forcing him to come off the wall and onto his knees. From there, it was easy to cuff him.

You and JJ had fun ping ponging announcing their Miranda rights as you both walked them through the warehouse.

Penelope warily looks up at Emily as the chatter from Luke and Tara comes through congratulating you and JJ on a nice takedown of the unsubs without being hurt. She saw Emily face set squarely, nostrils flaring with each inhalation of breath. The palms of her hands remained flat on Penelope’s desk, but Emily’s fingers were jagged at each joint. She was pissed.

She tries to diffuse the tension by clapping her hands. “Yay! Team Padawan got the bad guys!”

Emily raises a brow and tilts her head before pushing herself up to stand fully. “Yes, they did. Approximately how long until they’re back.”

“Uh …” She puts her arms down to do some calculations. “Probably seven to nine hours depending how quickly they hand the case off to local PD.”

“Let me know when they land.” She orders before turning to leave, not acknowledging Penelope with even a look.

When the door closes, Penelope mouths a ‘wow’ and looks at you on the video feed. “Oh, my beloved Whitlock. Mom’s pissed at you.”

Seven hours later, the BAU was back at Quantico and exhausted. You were all looking forward to finalizing the checkout procedure and heading home.

JJ is on her phone texting back and forth with Will as she heads to pick up her things at her desk. Luke yawns as he swings his to go bag around in hand and lets go, watching it land on his chair. He pumps his fist in victory. “Yes!”

“Nice form, Alvez. I’m impressed.” Tara looks at you. “Your turn.”

“Yeah, no. Knowing my luck, I’ll miss and knock everything off my desk.” You set your bag down on top of your desk and log into your computer to check out when Emily’s voice cuts through the lighthearted camaraderie.

“Whitlock. My office now.”

You look up in time to see an indignant cross armed Prentiss make brief eye contact with you before making an about face back inside her office. You didn’t even have a chance to appear confused before her, but your team saw it.

“What did you do?” Luke asks from across the bullpen.

“I … honestly have no idea,” you admit lamely and look to Tara and JJ. “You have any insights?”

Of course, the two of them wonder if this is about Emily’s feelings towards you and she was pretending to be upset to throw them off the trail.

Tara shrugs helplessly and JJ shakes her head no.

“Big help you two are.” You lock your station and start heading up to Emily’s office. “Better not keep her waiting.”

Once you passed by and were at a safe distance, Tara locks eyes with JJ and mouths, ‘Is this about your talk with Emily?’

JJ shrugs and mouths back, ‘No idea.’

Luke was too busy finishing up to notice the exchange.

“Hey …” you say, poking your head in and study Emily behind her desk not looking at you but at a file. She was making notes with a pen. You got a shiver down your spine and have a sense of déjà vu. “Wanted to see me?”

“Close the door.” She said it without looking up making you frown, but you did it. When it clicks close, she speaks again in that clip tone. “Have a seat.”

She still wasn’t looking at you and you almost wanted to take a seat on the couch to fuck with her but even you knew when to behave. It wasn’t often, but this was one of those times. So, you take a seat, rest a shoe on the opposite knee and interlock your fingers together on your stomach.

You begin the opening salvo with a, “What’s up chief?” since you sense a fight.

Emily makes a production in capping the pen before setting it down. It was then she looks.up at you with formidable brown orbs. “You may have gotten away with a lot of interpretations of orders in the CIA, but as you’re a member of the BAU, mine are not a suggestion.”

“Wait,” You pull your fingers free to lift a hand up to point at Emily. “This is about me putting my gun away?”

“Yes, this is about that. You never holster a weapon when confronting suspects,” she snaps back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am not.” She points the pen accusingly at you. “You went against protocol and my order. You could’ve gotten yourself and JJ killed.”

“But based on what I was aware of, I made the better call. Which ended in no shots fired and the suspects in custody.”

She looks at you with indignation and sits up straight in the chair. “But there is no way you could have predicted that. You got lucky.”

“No, what’s lucky is the call I made because I was concerned that if they saw us in their peripherals, they’d start shooting. By taking one by surprise, it knocked the other off their game and they became easy pickings for me and JJ to apprehend. It didn’t even take a minute,” you explain calmly. You didn’t want to feed into Prentiss’ exertion of authority. Even if the two of you were able to open up to one another and find common ground, you felt that your friendship with her was hanging on a precarious thread. Ever since drunk karaoke in her car, Emily felt more distant this week. Nothing could prove this was true besides the gnawing feeling in your gut.

Emily crosses her arms across her chest defensively. “You didn’t wait to hear what my next orders were going to be because you ignored me. You do not ignore your superior in the field, Whitlock.”

“Okay, then. Enlighten me oh great and all-knowing Prentiss on how the situation would have went down with your orders.” You motion to her with both arms extending with the cocky condescending tone you were known for. Yeah, the whole being nice thing just went out the window after that.

“You and JJ would have backed off, put enough distance between you and the door to provide enough opportunity to take them off guard. You’d have them in your sights with weapons trained on them, giving you both the upper hand.”

“Loyd is the issue with that.” She starts to open her mouth to argue but you continue. “I’m serious. The guy got off on violence and would have opened fire. Instead of exchanging fire with no known outcome on casualties, we go two suspects alive and me and JJ unharmed.”

Emily knew you were right, but she was edging towards a release and fighting with you for going against her order was all she had right now. It was completely irrational, and she knew it, but her mouth wouldn’t stop. “Regardless you blatantly ignored me in the field. That is unacceptable. How am I to trust you won’t do this again?”

That raises the hackles on your neck. Your face twists in contempt as she doesn’t back down with her haughty air of authority. “Are you fucking kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?! After everything I told you, after everything we shared, you don’t fucking trust me?”

Your eyes were seething, which matches the intensity of Emily’s anger. But there was a flicker of awareness that briefly peaked through a crack in her defense.

Your phone rings and you reach for it resting in your back pocket. “May the ladyship excuse me?” You ask with a biting tone. “I have to check who this is. Or are ya gonna order me to ignore it?”

“Don’t be a child.” She snaps.

“Then stop acting like I personally offended you because I made the better call.” You could feel your lips curl into a snarl. You were offended that Emily felt that your relationship had to fall back a few steps because her ego got bruised. You thought Emily was better than the usual agents turned bureaucrats. Emily had strong roots in the work. She should be able to understand a different call in the middle of an operation that you felt was right, not because you wanted to undermine her authority. You pegged her wrong, and it saddens you.

“Ah fuck.” You finally take note of who was calling and hit accept before it went to voicemail. “I need to take this.”

“Brian?” she asks hesitantly.

“No, my therapist.” You watched as Emily’s face went from hot to baffled within seconds. “What? Never had mandated therapy before?” you accuse, because of course Emily had it with all the shit she’s been through and switch your attention to the caller. “Kinda late for you. Everything alright?”

“Well, is everything alright with you?”

“Yes, just in a meeting with my boss.”

“Emily?”

You sigh and confirm. “Yes, Emily. But back to you, why are you calling?”

“I need to reschedule Monday. I’m on the way to the airport to see my mother.”

“Oh shit. Is she okay?”

“She had a fall, and I need to get eyes on her.”

You are amazed at how Nina could sound so sterile over the phone about personal matters. You know why, because you’re her patient, and it makes sense to keep things separated as much as possible. But there are times, like this, when she offers a glimpse into her life.

“I’m sorry to hear that and yeah, of course we can reschedule. I hope she’s gonna be okay.” You mean every word. You always find people who have any relationship with their mothers that are positive, something to be grateful for. You sure as hell didn’t have that.

“I appreciate that. Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, Nina. Be safe.”

Emily’s eyes widen in horror and JJ’s words come back to haunt her. She made a terrible assumption and clearly didn’t have all the information because Nina was your therapist. And your therapist knew about her. So, in some way, you talked about her in your sessions. Or was it just a footnote in your file that Nina knew? Either way….

Fuck!

Emily recovers quickly and smooths out her features as you end the call. “Is Nina alright?”

You found it strange that Emily seemingly cared about this after being a bitch. “She is. It’s her mom.”

“Oh.” She licks her lips and decides not to press further. Your curt responses were not open ended. You were closing up and rightfully so. Damn her assumptions and taking the call you made in the field personally. This should have been a collaborated conversation about field ops and chain of command. A conversation you had hinted happened often and got you into trouble. Why should it be different at the BAU? She offers neutral sympathy. “I’m … sorry to hear that.”

You squint trying to read Emily and come up confused. “Yeah. Anyway …” you quirk a brow. “Shall we revisit the child comment?”

“No. I think we’re done here.” Her tone is not as sharp but holds finality.

“Fantastic.” You rise and start to leave, but before you do, you take one last look at Prentiss and give her a Han Solo salute. “Have a lovely weekend your worshipfulness. See ya Monday.”

Emily watches you go but unlike the last time the two of you argued, you didn’t slam the door closed, and Emily didn’t reach for the pack of cigarettes in the desk drawer. Instead, she rests her forehead against the desk and pounds a fist atop it. “Fucking hell.”

*Child Protective Services

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[lillaydee]

A New Life

Jackson! Joel Miller / OFC

Starting a new life with each other in Jackson seemed to be going well, until it didn't.

Word Count: 15,272

Just one more story that I am uploading for practice purposes - I have many, many completed stories to upload, but am not that used to Tumblr yet, so it will take time to upload all of them - I'm not sure I will actually upload all of them, even. Right now, I'm just uploading the shorter ones for practice - just until I get used to the site. I will continue uploading the two series I have started uploading every other day - using those to practice scheduling stuff on Tumblr.

This fic also contains the very first smut I've ever written. I'm notoriously bad at it - I blush when I type smut out, so I apologize in advance if the smut is not smutting.

Thank you for those who have chosen to read my little mind worms. I appreciate you so much - there are no words.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Sexual Assault, Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Communication Failure, Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Angst, Fluff, Non-Smutting Smut, Happy Ending.

They decided to tell Ellie the truth. To say she was infuriated was an understatement, remaining silent throughout the journey back to Jackson. When they walked into the now familiar house. Ellie ran straight upstairs, the aggressive slamming of the door rattling the house, maybe for real, or maybe Joel and Madeleine were too in their heads when it came to the teenager’s wrath at them. Maybe they even deserved it. The two looked at each other, resigned to the teenager’s inevitable mood for the foreseeable future.

“You want to take the master?” Joel asked.

“No, I’ll take the room down here”, Maddie replied.

With that, Joel and Maddie went their separate ways to their respective rooms, closing the doors behind them.

Maddie was bone tired. Funny how the fatigue just set in when your body realized you had finally arrived, safe and sound. She didn’t even bother showering before throwing herself onto the dusty bed. Fuck it, she thought. She slept in the dirt for months. A night or two on a dusty bed wouldn’t hurt her. It seemed Joel and Ellie had the same idea, no sounds of plumbing or running water to be heard. It was sundown, but they could all use the rest. Who cared if they slept for 12 hours? After what they had just been through, they deserved it.

But try as she might, Maddie couldn’t sleep. The room felt suffocating. After almost a year of sleeping out in the open, this felt claustrophobic. Like she was sleeping in a room-sized coffin, but a coffin, nonetheless. She also had gotten used to having Joel and Ellie next to her when sleeping. Now that she was alone, it just felt unsafe, despite the obvious opposite. She tossed and turned, trying to calm her mind enough for sleep to take hold, but her mind kept replaying what happened over the last few days.

How the whole thing didn’t make sense to her, even on the surface. The dilapidated hospital, the lack of staff and resources, the ambitious nature of it all despite the lack of proper procedure and expertise. How could one doctor and two nurses create a cure in these conditions? So, when the doctor confirmed her biggest fear, she reacted. And it seemed Joel found out too, considering he mowed through the entire hospital to get to them. By the time they got out of there, the only people left alive were the three medical professionals, locked in the threadbare operating theatre.

But Ellie couldn’t see it from their point of view, going on and on about how her life was now without purpose, how she could’ve died for something meaningful, how they took that choice away from her. Maddie and Joel kept quiet. They let her say her peace and hoped that one day she would understand how important she had become to them both.

A glance at the clock showed it was nearing midnight. This was getting ridiculous now. Her body was protesting its own indecisiveness. So tired, but too restless and her head too full to sleep. Deciding that rest was vital before she lost her mind, she picked up her pillow and blanket, and went into the living room. Maybe a bigger space will help her breathe easier, and hopefully sleep would claim her. Laying the blanket on the floor, she laid down, looking around the room in the dark. This would be home from now on. She just needed a few days to get used to it, she was sure of it.

Not that time ever made her feel like any place was home anyway. She had spent close to 15 years at the QZ working as a nurse at the FEDRA hospital. But she had never felt at home there, and the fact that she had never agreed with their policies didn’t help. She helped Tess and Joel whenever she could, getting them what they needed from the hospital, helping them make connections so that they could get out when they needed to, keeping a lookout for them, and in return, they helped protect her. But when she was found out, the officer wanted a bribe. Instead of turning her in, maybe he could turn a blind eye, if she would open her legs for him whenever he wanted. When she resisted, he assaulted her, the physical assaults leaving her face black and blue and bloody, eyes so swollen she couldn’t open them properly, the sexual assaults leaving her bleeding, unable to walk for days. She couldn’t leave her apartment for a whole week, and when Tess and Joel found her, they smuggled her out to live with Bill and Frank. For five years, she helped nurse Frank, before finding them in each other’s arms, a goodbye note and a set of instructions on the dining table.

When Joel and Ellie arrived, she decided to go with them, and the rest was history.

A small thud from a pillow thrown next to her own jolted her from her thoughts, Joel standing over her. It seemed he couldn’t sleep either. He laid down next to her, threw his blanket over them both, and now there were two of them unable to sleep instead of one. Their bodies so weary they couldn’t even find the energy to talk, but the unease in their hearts wouldn’t allow them to sleep. After about an hour of them just lying there staring at the ceiling, the stairs creaked. Ellie joined them, lying on Maddie’s other side. Maddie pulled her closer, and covered her with the blanket too, Joel shuffling closer to her on her right.

Within minutes, all three of them were sound asleep.

***

Madeleine spent the next week scrubbing the house top to bottom, Joel fixing whatever needed fixing. Ellie still hadn’t spoken to either of them, spending her time in the backyard cleaning it up. Maria had come by, setting the three of them up with basic needs to start their new life, and jobs for them to contribute. Maddie, obviously, would be helping Dr Marcus Adams at the big house in the center of town used as the clinic. Joel was set up with some constructing duties, as well as patrol, and Ellie was asked to help at the stable after school.

A couple weeks in, the three of them had somewhat settled into a routine. Although Ellie was still obviously extremely angry with the both of them, she stayed close, not knowing anyone in town apart from them. A month in, she had started to make friends, and her silence was replaced by some mumblings letting Joel or Maddie know where she was headed to before storming off, followed by the obligatory slamming of the door. At this point Joel or Maddie had gotten used to her tantrums, both silently agreeing that this was better than her lying dead on that operating table. Joel even made a joke that he should scavenge for new doors just in case she managed to shatter one with all the slamming.

And then there’s the two of them. Their day-to-day life, preparing meals together, doing household chores, dealing with Ellie’s tantrums, felt so right, so normal, that it wasn’t hard to convince herself the three of them were a family. They had breakfast together every day, Ellie storming off as soon as she finished. Joel and Maddie would then follow suit, walking a distance behind her, making sure she arrived at the school safely. Joel would then walk her to the clinic and go to work. After lunch at the mess hall, Maddie would watch from afar to make sure Ellie got to the stable alright, not wanting to suffocate the angry teenager. Joel would then pick her up from work in the evenings, and both of them would wait for Ellie to finish at the stable a distance away before following her home, again, from a distance.

As unconventional as their days as a family were, this was their new normal. They liked it, even Ellie, not that she would ever admit that. It was as if they were her parents. To Maddie, this new routine was as domestic as she had ever felt, and before she knew it, she was seeing Joel in a different light, wondering what it would be like if they were a couple, and if he felt the same for her. But Joel had never shown her any interest beyond the normal protective man that they knew him to be.

Just as he had given a sense of safety and familiarity to Maddie and Ellie, they were also those things to him. And he would be lying if he were to say that Maddie was just someone he had travelled with. But she was a victim of sexual assault, and he wasn’t willing to scare her off by telling her how he felt. So, he took what he could get, and lived his life with her, hoping that she felt the same way, and that they would be together one day. He was comfortable with her, she was familiar, he felt like he could be himself with her.

Things went this way for a while. Over time, Ellie’s anger seemed to dissipate slightly, and she was beginning to talk to Maddie and Joel when the need arose. But being a teenager, she began spending more time with her friends, and wanted her own space. Eventually, she stopped sleeping downstairs, leaving Joel and Maddie alone, both of them still needing the familiarity of each other’s company to rest.

About three months in, Maddie woke up to Joel spooning her, his arms wrapped around her. She sighed contentedly, feeling happier and more rested than she had ever felt. When Joel awoke, he seemed flustered, mumbling his apologies, covering his crotch with the blankets before going upstairs to get ready for the day. For the rest of that week, Joel and Maddie woke up in each other’s arms, but never took it further. Both of them were convinced that the cuddling was accidental, just an unconscious move one of them made in the night. But the domesticity between them increased, standing nearer to each other, letting their shoulders touch when cooking or walking next to each other, fingers brushing against one another, shy smiles exchanged all the time. Ellie noticed, her eyes rolling, but she smirked softly with approval every time the two made eye contact before looking away pink-cheeked and embarrassed.

That day, after dropping Ellie off, Joel asked Maddie if she would go to the Tipsy Bison for a drink with him that night, just the two of them. Joel’s smile was so wide his eyes disappeared, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his heart close to bursting when she shyly said yes. They continued walking slowly towards the clinic, hands brushing against each other in the process. Joel was having a discussion with himself in his head on whether or not to kiss her on the cheek upon dropping her off at the clinic, when a group of men went running past them towards the clinic, carrying a very bloody man. Maddie looked at Joel, who nodded. She said a quick goodbye before running to the clinic to help.

The rest of that day went by with a blur. The patient had tried to fix his malfunctioning fridge when it shocked him, and his violently seizing body caused it to topple over and crush him. His injuries were severe, and Maddie and Marcus never left his side, staying at the clinic for the next three nights before he stabilized, taking turns sleeping for an hour each at the studio apartment above the clinic.

When Maddie went home days later, Joel was not in the living room sleeping. He had gone upstairs to his own room. Maddie slept in her own room for the first time that night, exhaustion taking her to dreamland within minutes. When she woke up the next day, having slept in later than she normally would, Joel had gone on patrol.

Dinner that night was quieter than usual, Joel exhausted from his long day, Maddie too. Ellie was just rushing through dinner to go to movie night. After they cleaned up, Joel put his jacket on and told Maddie he was going out for a drink before closing the door behind him. Maddie was dumbfounded. What happened to going to the Tipsy Bison together? Did he want her to go with him? Did he ask her, but she didn’t hear? She decided she was going anyway. It was weird to go this long without him.

When she got to the Bison, she searched the room for him or Tommy. She found him almost immediately, sitting at the bar, a drink in his hand, chatting with someone she couldn’t see, his back to her. She walked over, eager to join him, when the crowd parted. He was sitting next to a beautiful redhead, who was animatedly telling him a story. She looked young, probably in her mid-twenties. She was textbook beautiful, with her perfect face and her perfect body in a beautiful wrap dress. Maddie looked at her own reflection in the mirror behind the bar, feeling like she looked at least fifty, and not the mid-forties that she really was, her clothes plain and baggy, hiding her less than perfect body, full of scars from their long journey together. He laughed at her jokes, looking like he’s having a hell of a time. Maddie shook the shock away, walking forward again, when the redhead wrapped her arm around his free hand, and placed her head on his shoulder. Maddie got closer and called his name.

Joel and the redhead turned, Joel quickly pulling his hand away from her hold. The redhead looked her up and down and smiled.

“You must be Madeleine, you’re Joel’s roommate, right?” she asked, her charming smile making Maddie feel like a frumpy old lady.

Joel cleared his throat. “Maddie, this is Vanessa, my patrol partner.”

***

Maddie forced a smile on her face and said hi to Vanessa. Joel pulled the chair on his other side and asked her to join them. But Maddie felt like she was interrupting. She now felt sure that he did not in fact ask her to join him before he left the house. He wanted to be alone with her. And now he was inviting her to join them because he felt bad, or felt he had to. Maddie felt hot all of a sudden, her face flushed with embarrassment. She mumbled some incoherent half-assed excuse about needing to get up early and turned to go home. She heard Joel call after her, but she was too mortified with the realization that she had made up his affection for her in her head that she just bolted. She ran face first into Tommy who asked her to slow down, but she didn’t. She needed to get out of there as soon as she could.

Fuck. What was she thinking? Why the hell would he want to be with some middle-aged old maid such as herself when he could get a Vanessa? Young, beautiful, sexy, sex-on-a-leg Vanessa? Those perky boobs of hers that were close to spilling out of her dress probably didn’t even need bras. Maddie couldn’t get her own boobs to look that perky with the best push up available. He may be in his fifties, but Joel was a good-looking guy, and Maddie had not missed the way the ladies in Jackson giving him fuck-me eyes on the daily. He had always been oblivious to this phenomenon, and Maddie stupidly thought it was because he only cared for her attention, but clearly, she was wrong. Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT! How was she supposed to look him in the eyes again?

When she got home, she went straight to her room, not bothering to turn the lights on. Sleep evaded her, her heart hammering away, but the embarrassment she felt earlier was now replaced with something she could not identify. She had never felt like this before. Her heart felt… heavy. The weight of it pressing down on her as she laid on her bed. She turned sideways to ease it, it worked for a while, but returned a few minutes later. After what felt like hours, she heard the front door open, and Joel’s familiar heavy footsteps walked in, the sounds coming closer and closer before stopping at her door. She saw the shadows of his feet in the sliver of light under the door from her dark room. She could hear his hand touching the door handle, but after what felt like hours, she heard him huff a long breath before retreating and going up to his own room. Maddie let go of the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She turned one final time, letting the heaviness play with her mind until sleep took her.

The next morning, Maddie practically shoved food down Ellie’s throat in order to whisk her away to school as soon as possible, terrified of running into Joel. Ellie pushed her hand away, grumbling what her problem was. As they were leaving, she heard Joel’s door open. Maddie grabbed Ellie by the collar and pulled her out the door, literally jogging away from the door. She heard the door open, and Joel’s voice call for them, Ellie stopping to wait for Joel, but Maddie kept pulling.

“What is going on with you? Why are we running from Joel?” she asked.

Before Maddie could answer, Vanessa appeared out of nowhere, colliding with her, the force of it pushing both of them on the ground, Maddie literally eating dirt. Joel ran up, helping Vanessa up, checking she was alright before turning to Maddie, whose lips were now bleeding from her face plant. Joel looked concerned, hand coming up to her face, but before he could do anything, Vanessa piped up,

“I was just on my way to get you. We need to leave now. The patrol from last night didn’t return. I was going to go get Tommy next,” she said, her voice urgent.

Maddie wiped the blood on her lips while Ellie helped her up. Joel looked at her, her lips sans blood now. Maddie said something about being late for work and turned around, pulling Ellie with her. Ellie kept quiet after that, somehow reading that any comments on what just happened wouldn’t be welcomed, especially the fact that Joel helped Vanessa up before her. Maddie felt childish, as if she was reading too much into this. He had reached Vanessa first, so it made sense that he helped her first, right? Of course he would’ve helped her too. Of course he would’ve. He would’ve. He definitely would’ve.

When she got to the clinic, Marcus, who was fast becoming her best friend from all the time they spent alone at the clinic, was already there. He turned to greet her, only for his face to morph into concern at her swollen lips, now bleeding again. He forced her to take a seat, despite her protests, fussing with swabs and ointments to make sure she didn’t need stitches. He gently pried her lips open, looking at them with a small torch, dabbing lightly to see if the bleeding could stop on its own, his left hand holding her cheek.

Someone cleared their throat. The two looked up to see Joel standing in the doorway, his face like thunder. He said something about not knowing what time he would be home that day, and to make sure Ellie got home on time, before abruptly turning around and leaving, the door slammed harder than it should behind him. Marcus looked bewildered for a second, before declaring she didn’t need stitches, but dabbing some ointment on her lips anyway, just to be safe.

When both batches of patrol came back that evening, Maddie was relieved to see Joel unscathed, just tired looking, Vanessa riding next to him, looking like some badass chick coming home from a victorious battle, her red hair looking perfect as ever, an easy smile on her face, which was gazing adoringly at Joel. A few riders from last night’s patrol were injured, so Marcus called Maddie to give him a hand. She felt Joel’s eyes on her but did not dare look. She focused on cleaning the injuries and then preparing the trays and equipment to stitch up the wounds, her and Marcus working well together, fast and efficient.

After what felt like a thousand hours, Maddie was looking forward to going home, taking a shower, having a quick dinner and just sleeping the rest of the night away. She was walking towards the stables to get Ellie, stomach rumbling, when someone called her name. It was Vanessa, running slightly to catch up with her.

“Hey Maddie? I just wanted to say sorry for running into you like that this morning. I was in a hurry and didn’t see you. Are you alright?”

Maddie nodded, so not in the mood to feel inferior right now, and Vanessa just brought that out of her. Vanessa continued almost immediately after the nod,

“Hey, just wondering. You and Joel, you guys are not together, right? He said you were just roommates?”

Maddie felt like her heart was in her throat. She was convinced that if she opened her mouth to answer her heart would fall out. So instead, she shook her head. After all, that’s what she was. She was the woman living in the same house as he, in different rooms in fact. They were roommates. He was her roommate, one she was heavily crushing on, a one-sided imaginary feel-fest starring only her.

“Oh, good. So, you don’t mind that we’re seeing each other, right? It’s just, we spend so much time together and I think we both feel this connection you know? It was just a matter of time. We work well together. But I just thought I should talk to you about it, you know, woman to woman?” she said, her eyes dreamy.

“Isn’t he too old for you?” Maddie said before she could stop herself. Vanessa just scoffed.

“If that’s what old looks like, I guess I have a thing for older men. Plus, he’s not old where it counts, you know what I mean? That man can make me purr, let me tell you that!” she said, giving a cheeky wink before walking away.

Maddie stopped in front of the stable, her legs heavier than lead, her head full of what just happened. So, Joel had a girlfriend now? She couldn’t comprehend it, just a week ago he was flirting with her and asking her out for drinks, and cuddling with her, and now he had a girlfriend?

Maddie heard her name again, this time in Joel’s low tone. It seemed he had the same idea to walk Ellie home from the stable now that he was home earlier than expected.

“What did Vanessa want?” he asked her, his head low, eyes fixed on his feet.

“Nothing,” Maddie said, a little too quickly. “You can walk Ellie home, right? I think I’m gonna go home first.”

“Wait,” he said, his hand wrapped gently around her clenched hand. “I made dinner. Let’s have dinner together? Like we always did? I have something to talk to you about,” he said, his face hopeful.

Maddie so badly wanted to say yes, she had missed him. Missed having a good meal with him and Ellie. But Vanessa’s words were fresh in her mind, and if he was just going to tell her the same thing, she didn’t want to hear it. She got it. He had a girlfriend. All his affections were in her head.

“Actually Joel, I’m not hungry. I’m really tired. I’ll see you around,” she said instead, walking away, prying her hand from his gentle grasp, dying to get away from him before the grumbling in her tummy got loud enough to betray her.

Maddie went to bed with a piece of bread, lying in bed in the dark, willing herself not to cry. The heaviness in her chest was back. What was going on? What was this feeling? Shit. She just wanted it to go away.

After he and Ellie had dinner, Joel went to Maddie’s door, raising his hand to knock, desperate to talk to her. But he couldn’t pretend he didn’t hear her word choice – that she will see him ‘around’ instead of ‘at home'. Deciding not to bother her, he went upstairs and willed himself to sleep.

The next day, while she was mopping the floors in the clinic, Vanessa showed up. Maddie almost sighed out loud in exasperation. She kept popping up on her, like a Jack-in-a-Box, but a really annoyingly beautiful one. Instead, she composed herself and forced a fake smile on her face. Vanessa came up to her, a cheeky look on her face,

“Hey Maddie… so… Joel and I are going on a date tonight, and… well… I live with five other girls you know, and Ellie will be spending the night at Dina’s. I was wondering if you could do me a solid and make yourself scarce for the evening? So, we can have some alone time? Help a girl out?” she begged, a desperate look on her face.

Maddie just stared for a while. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to seem like a scorned woman, so she just smiled and nodded, before picking up the mop bucket and walking to the back room. She heard Vanessa’s delighted “thank you!” behind her, shut the door to the back room, sat down, and buried her face in her hands, the tears flowing freely.

As she laid in the twin bed in the studio apartment above the clinic that night, she couldn’t get the images of Joel and Vanessa together out of her imagination. She didn’t even go home for a change of clothes, worried that if she ran into him, she would turn to stone. She kept picturing them naked, their bodies entwined, their lips locked, their moans loud and echoey throughout the empty house. She hated the fact that she didn’t tell him how she felt earlier, and now it was too late. She cried herself to sleep that night, fully dressed.

The next morning, she was shaken awake by a worried Marcus, who had noticed that the apartment lights were on and went up there, thinking he forgot to switch them off. He asked her what happened, but she was too ashamed to tell him, choosing instead to tell him she was too tired to walk home. He obviously didn’t believe her but chose not to press further. Instead, he waited for her to wash her face, and asked her to go to the mess hall for some breakfast instead. He needed to open the clinic, but a hungry nurse won’t do him any good, he said, pinching her on the chin, making her laugh.

When they walked down together, Marcus’s comforting hand on her shoulder, they came face to face with Joel, who stopped walking, his face the picture of devastation at the sight he was seeing. Maddie wanted to be offended, clocking what he must have thought of the sight. How dare he, when he was the one going on dates and bringing the perfect specimen of a woman home. She was about to express her annoyance, but a very chirpy Vanessa came running, pulling him away, whispering in his ear, before turning around and smiling cheekily at Maddie, winking conspiratorially at her, giving her a thumbs up, as if doing her the biggest favor. Joel kept looking back at the two of them, his face disbelieving, looking crestfallen. Maddie felt her heart clench. She realized that instead of anger, his face just looked so sad. She wanted to go after him and ask him what was wrong, but a flustered looking mother came running to the clinic, her child in her arms who was obviously having difficulty breathing.

So, Maddie put her nurse game face on, and took the child from his mother, and brought him inside for treatment.

***

Joel didn’t sleep at home for almost a week after that day. He would walk Ellie home from the stable in the evenings, made sure she had dinner, and left as soon as Maddie got home. He got home before dawn broke, got ready for his day, and let Maddie handle Ellie in the mornings, preferring to leave for the stables without having to bump into her. Maddie made sure Ellie was never alone at night but chose to sleep at the apartment if Joel was home for the night, deciding that she would rather sew her own ears shut than hear Joel and Vanessa going at it, making sure she was out of the house before she came for the night. She got home a little earlier than expected one day and could hear his moans and groans upstairs and ran out of the house like her life depended on it before she could hear her too. Never again, she thought. Her heart couldn’t take it. Ellie was spending more and more weekends sleeping over at her friends’ places, so Maddie was the only obstacle for the happy couple’s privacy. Maddie did wonder where the two spent their nights when they were not at this house. Vanessa made it clear she had roommates, so they must have found some sort of a sex port somewhere.

Maria came to talk to her one day, asking her if she and Joel were having problems, considering they had not been seen together for a couple of weeks. They were virtually inseparable during the first three months in Jackson, and suddenly it was as if they were strangers. Maria told her she was shocked to hear that Joel was with Vanessa – she had always thought that he and Maddie would end up together. Even Tommy was shocked, but of course, no one dared say anything to the grumpy man, for he was even more stubborn than he was grumpy.

As much as Maddie wanted to own up to her feelings and frustrations, she didn’t want Maria and Tommy blabbing to Joel. If he was happy with Vanessa, then she would like to be happy for him, as much as it was killing her inside. So, Maddie tried to keep the peace. She and Joel simply coexisted, avoiding each other like a dance, while making sure Ellie was taken care of.

But Ellie, oh Ellie. That girl had completely become a typical teenager, always angry, always moody, not that she wasn’t already. Despite letting Joel and Maddie walk her to school and back home daily, she made it quite clear that she was still angry at them for what happened at the hospital, using that as an excuse as to why they didn’t have the right to tell her what she could and couldn’t do, since they had taken her choice away from her. She could sense the unease between the two parental figures, and she was acting out. Maddie caught her smoking once, and when she tried to tell her it was not good for her, she stomped off, yelling that she was not her mother so please fuck off! Joel wasn’t faring any better with her either. He caught her sneaking out late one night, and when confronted, she screamed that he was not her father, and it was not like he was such a good role model, he couldn’t even keep his family together.

So, Maddie and Joel had a sit down, and decided they needed to get their shit together, and work together for Ellie’s sake. They came to an agreement that they needed to stay together, just until Ellie fully settled, so that she didn’t feel alone or left out. Family meals were no longer negotiable, even if no one was talking. Also, no one would be having sleepovers, at home or otherwise for a while, just to get their bearings back. Ellie needed stability, and having every other parental figure out of the house every other night was not helping, neither was her sleeping in different places every weekend. And for Joel and Maddie – whatever they had going on outside of the three of them, stayed out of the house. So, Maddie made it a point to never mention Vanessa to him, and he did the same. They were civil to one another, keeping up appearances for her sake, but when Ellie went to bed, both of them quietly retreated to their own rooms, neither talking to each other, each missing longing looks they each gave the other.

Slowly but surely, their efforts started showing results. Ellie started calming down, making the effort to spend more time with Joel and Maddie, going to movie nights with them, even helping them prepare meals and tending the garden in the backyard, doing her chores, and although she still had her temper tantrums every now and again, she was generally more relaxed, and a lot more cooperative. Everything seemed to be going well. The three of them getting along, their school and work life going great.

Every time Maddie saw Vanessa around town, she was always surrounded by ladies her age – her roommates, Maddie assumed. Vanessa always gave her a sad smile, and her friends would stare at her, annoyance and disgust clear on their faces, before rubbing their hands on Vanessa’s back and walking away as a group. Joel had taken to glaring at Marcus whenever the doc was around, although for the life of her Maddie couldn’t figure out why. But they had agreed not to talk about anything non-related to the three of them, so she kept quiet.

About two months after the new arrangement began, Maddie was taking inventory at the clinic when Vanessa walked in, arms full of medical supplies they had found from that day’s scavenging trip. Maddie thanked her, and immediately began checking the items for leaks and expiry dates.

“So, how’s Ellie doing these days?” Vanessa asked.

“Joel didn’t tell you? She’s doing much better. It’s sweet of you to ask.”

“That’s so great! I am so happy for you guys,” she said. “So, now that Ellie’s doing much better, are you looking for other places to live?”

“Why would I be doing that?” Maddie asked back, genuinely confused at the question.

“Well, now that Ellie’s doing better, do you need to still be living with Joel? I mean, you guys are not together, and he’s with me, so why are you still living with him?” Vanessa questioned; a sweet smile still plastered on her gorgeous, perfect face.

Maddie was taken aback. She had been living there since they moved to Jackson. The three of them came in together, where else would she be living? Unless…

“Did Joel say something?”

“Oh, it’s not my place to say…”

“Vanessa,” Maddie’s voice was stern, looking at Vanessa with a serious face.

Vanessa gave an uncomfortable smile. “It’s just that Joel and I were planning to take our relationship to the next level you know? We completely understood the need for the two of us to slow down when Ellie was acting up, but now that she’s doing better, he mentioned that maybe it would be better if you found a place for yourself so that I can move in with him, maybe start a family of our own,” she said, her hands twisting together, head down, trying to avoid Maddie’s disbelieving eyes.

“I mean, technically I could just move in with you still living there, but we are very loud, and I think he just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable you know? Even when we haven’t been spending nights together, he found ways for us to have alone time - the man is insatiable - so imagine what it would be like if we were to actually live together…” she continued, a sly smile on her face.

“Plus, I think you living there would make him uncomfortable too. He wouldn’t even show me affection in public out of respect for you. People know the three of you came in together, and lots of people believe you guys are together, so he didn’t want to make you feel left out or anything, you know? So, it would be better for all of us if you have your own place.”

Marcus walked in at that moment, having heard what was said, a stern look on his face, and Vanessa excused herself, before turning around and begging Maddie not to say anything to Joel, for he had made her promise not to say anything. As soon as she was gone, Maddie told Marcus she would be right back, and ran home. She had to talk to Joel. Was this what he really wanted? She needed to hear him say it to believe it. When she got home, the door was open, and she can hear Tommy, Maria and Ellie’s voices clearly, along with Joel’s low one.

“Are you sure about this brother?” Tommy asked.

“Isn’t it too soon?” Maria added, “It’s only been a few months…”

“It’s not too soon,” Ellie’s voice interrupted.

Joel’s voice was clear now.

“We have to move on, things cannot stay like this forever. We will talk to Maddie, make her understand. This is good for her. To be independent. We will help her with anything she needs, of course, but she cannot depend on us forever, so, it would be better if she lives on her own. It’s not like she’ll be far, we’re right here,” he said, his voice steady.

There was a long silence.

“Alright, if you think that’s best,” Maria said.

Maddie had heard everything she needed to hear. She turned around and walked back to the clinic. She couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Sure, he had found someone, but it had only been a couple of months, ten weeks at the most. And just like that she was no longer needed? After everything?

When she got back to the clinic, she broke down. She told Marcus everything. She felt like he was the only person she could talk to about this, everyone else in her life seemed to be conspiring to rid Joel of her, and he seemed more than eager to make that happen too. Marcus held her tight, keeping silent and just being there for her. He offered his spare room, but Marcus didn’t live alone, and Maddie didn’t want to intrude. He then suggested she move into the apartment above the clinic – the apartment was part of the clinic, and staff were allowed to use it at the doctor’s discretion, especially when severely injured patients required 24/7 care, and he wanted her to have it. Plus, he said, it would be better for the town to have the nurse living directly above the clinic, especially for emergency cases at night.

Maddie promised to think about it, but when she got home that evening, she found that she couldn’t even look at Joel in the eyes anymore, knowing he didn’t want her there. She could feel his eyes on her at all times, and she kept bracing herself for him to tell her what she already knew – that he needed her to move out so he can live his happily ever after with Vanessa, Ellie, and however many devastatingly gorgeous children those two annoyingly good-looking people would inevitably have from their super active sex life. So, the next day while the house was empty, with Marcus’s help, she packed what little belonging she had, and moved out.

But she still had Ellie to think about. Ellie still needed stability. And as hurt as she was, she didn’t want to put her own needs before Ellie’s, but at the same time didn’t want Joel to have the satisfaction of knowing that she gave in to their demands – even if he hadn’t had the balls to talk to her about him wanting to move Vanessa in. So, she decided that while Ellie was still adjusting, she would sneak back home early in the mornings to make breakfast and have their morning routine together, go back there as usual for dinner, and sneak back out once Joel had gone up to bed. Anything for Ellie. All Maddie wanted was for the little girl to have as normal a life as she and Joel could give her.

More time passed. Vanessa had asked her again if she had found an alternate living arrangement, confirming to her that Joel had no clue she had moved out. She was a bit hurt by that. Really? He didn’t even notice she didn’t live here anymore? To be fair, she had been keeping up the façade of being there as if nothing had changed shockingly well, and Joel was much too gentlemanly to barge into her now very empty room without permission to discover her little act. But still, Maddie found herself to be annoyed most days now. Even after a whole month since she overheard that conversation, Joel still hadn’t confronted her with it. Still hadn’t told her he would prefer for her to move out. Ugh. Just man up and do it already!

Joel, on the other hand, was still walking around as the resident town grump, even all these months later. He went about his day as if someone was always hiding in the bushes about to attack him, shoulders stiff, a permanent scowl on his face. The only times he seemed a bit relaxed was when talking to Ellie, Maddie or Maria, even Tommy when the younger man wasn’t looking to annoy him. Nothing weird there, though. That’s how he had always been, and it took Maddie and Ellie nursing him back to health, their hands never leaving his during his recovery from that incident in Salt Lake City for him to soften for the two of them.

He walked into the clinic one Saturday, holding his left arm, the sleeve of his flannel soaked in blood. Maddie felt her head freeze at the sight, running to him and pulling him into the treatment room to take a closer look. He let her pull him with her, his face soft and at ease seeing her worried one.

“What the hell happened?” Maddie asked, carefully folding the sleeves up to take a closer look at his arm, internally chastising herself at how desperately worried she sounded. She hated how much she still cared and worried for him, but she couldn’t help herself.

There was a long, deep, jagged gash along his forearm, about four inches in length, and it was bleeding profusely.

“Caught it on some sharp zinc in the garage while clearing it today,” he explained, wincing slightly when Maddie applied saline solution to clean the wound.

“The hell were you doing clearing the garage?” she asked. “You need to learn to rest, old man, you work too much,” she said.

Joel chuckled, a smile on his face, despite the pain that he was in. Maddie continued cleaning the gash thoroughly, being careful not to hurt him too much. Her eyes slightly wet at the thought of him being hurt. Those couple of weeks in Salt Lake City were among the worst days of her life, she and Ellie so worried that he wouldn’t make it. Even if she was a nurse, it wasn’t like they had the supplies to treat him properly. She was glad they were in Jackson now, and she could help tend to his wound as needed.

Joel couldn’t help but stare at her as she worked, stitching his wound up, her face slightly scrunched up in concentration. His heart softened every time he looked at her. She was so close to him right now; he could smell her shampoo. He longed to bury his face in her hair, in her neck, so he could drown in her smell. It took everything in him not to, he shouldn’t. He didn’t have the right to do that. But he missed her smell, the way her body melted into his when they used to sleep in the living room, the way their bodies just magnetize towards each other no matter how they tried not to do that. He missed the talks they would have before they both fall asleep, and most of all, he missed waking up with his face buried in her hair, the back of her neck, or her face in the crook of his, her arm around his waist, and his around her body. But he couldn’t have that now, not anymore. So, he settled for just looking at her, taking in as much of her beautiful face as he could, hoping to God that was enough to help him sleep that night.

When Maddie looked up at him, she found him looking at her, his face so soft, his puppy dog eyes full of yearning. Their faces were so close together, she could see the flecks of amber in his beautiful brown eyes.

“Maddie,” he began, his voice so soft, so careful, his uninjured hand finding her arm, softly stroking it up and down. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…”

Her heart stopped. This was it. He was going to tell her he wanted her to move out.

“Joel!!! What happened???” Vanessa’s shrill voice piped in dramatically, her face full of concern.

Maddie wanted to roll her eyes. Where the heck had she come from? Honestly. They spend five days a week on patrol together, she couldn’t let her be alone with Joel for a few minutes? Sheesh. Instead, Maddie rubbed some antibacterial salve on the stitched wound, and began bandaging it, Vanessa fussing over him as if he was a child. Joel just looked a bit flustered, uncomfortable, even. The grump was back. Gone was the soft Joel. He kept saying he was alright, just a cut, nothing to worry about. He was about to ask Vanessa to give the two of them some privacy, when Marcus came in, wondering what the shrill ruckus was all about.

Joel’s face snapped shut even harder. So did Marcus’s when he saw Joel and Vanessa there. As soon as Maddie stood up, he wrapped his hand around Maddie’s shoulder protectively, concerned at what Maddie must be feeling with those two being there together in her presence. He had spent so much time listening to Maddie pour her heart out regarding those two, and he wasn’t about to allow them to hurt her in his presence.

Vanessa wrapped her arms around Joel’s uninjured arm to leave. Joel’s body resisting, but eventually gave in. But before they could leave, Vanessa turned.

“Are you two going to the Bison tonight? Some of the men are doing a live performance. It should be fun! Will we see the two of you there?” she asked, her arms still wrapped around Joel’s, whose face was unreadable, apart from the murdering of a doctor he was probably plotting in his head.

Maddie couldn’t speak, the lump in her throat getting bigger by the second.

“We’ll be there, wouldn’t miss it,” Marcus said, his arm tightening around Maddie’s shoulder. He didn’t miss the way Joel’s eyes flickered to his arm.

“Great! See you there!” Vanessa chirped, before pulling a reluctant Joel with her.

Maddie let out a shaky breath. Marcus let go of her shoulder, but took her face in his hands, checking to see if she was alright.

“Why did you say we would go tonight? I really don’t feel like going. The last thing I need was to see the two of them slow dancing,” she said with a slight tremble of her lips, her tears threatening to slip out.

“Nope. You are going little nurse lady. You are gonna get all dressed up, you are gonna have a few drinks, loosen up and have fun. I’m gonna make sure you leave the Bison smiling tonight if it’s the last thing I do. Fuck ‘em. We are going to have fun. Full stop. Understood?” he said, his face full of care and determination.

Maddie thought about it for a bit and nodded.

He was right. Fuck the two of them. She was going to have fun tonight.

***

Scissors. Where the fuck were the scissors? Ellie was running around the house, looking in every drawer in the common areas looking for scissors. The ‘new’ shirt she had put on for the live performance at the Bison tonight had an annoyingly long lose thread from the wash, and it was a twenty-year-old shirt to begin with despite it being new to her, so she didn’t want to risk pulling it in case it made the situation worse. Joel had left early, needing to help set up the Bison after promising profusely to be careful with his injured arm. Maddie said she would be going from the clinic. So, the mission to find the scissors was a solo one. She went into Joel’s room, hastily looking around for one, but couldn’t find any. Surely, they must have some scissors somewhere in the house, right? Maddie might have them. She ran downstairs, checking in the drawers in the living room and kitchen once more for good measure, before going into Maddie’s room, completely oblivious to what she was about to be greeted with.

***

Maddie spent the evening at Maria’s, looking for a dress to borrow for the night. She forced herself to only speak of everyday matters, and not about Joel or the fact that she was heartbroken that she was about to see Joel and Vanessa together in a public setting. Maria insisted that she put some make up on her, after all, as a beautiful single woman, she might meet someone at the concert, winking at her with a teasing smile.

“Oh, come on Maria. Who would want an old lady such as myself?” Maddie asked.

“Hey, we are about the same age, and 46 is NOT OLD!” Maria said defensively.

“Maybe it wasn’t old in the before, but nowadays? Fuck that is old,” Maddie’s hands covered her face at the thought.

“Hey, Joel is older, and he found someone. You will too,” Maria said.

“Yeah, a 25-year-old. Guys want younger models. They want a Vanessa. They don’t want a Maddie. I mean, Joel went for someone young enough to be his daughter, and he gets called a stud. If I go for someone young enough to be my son? Imagine the backlash!”

Maria sighed. She could not understand why Joel would go for Vanessa. She and Tommy were shocked when they found out. Tommy spent the rest of that day going on and on about how out of character that was for Joel, to go for someone he hardly knew. Joel was a man of routine, of familiarity. And even though Joel had assured him that he and Maddie were just roommates, Tommy didn’t miss the way his brother looked at Maddie. Even Maria noticed, despite not knowing either of them before their second arrival to Jackson. The husband and wife were sure that Joel would finally step up and ask Maddie out. But when Vanessa told her she and Joel were together, Maria decided against talking to Joel about it, and made Tommy promise to do the same, citing it was none of their business. It wasn’t that hard to believe anyway. They spent all day on patrol together, and Vanessa was a beautiful young woman. Joel was just a man, with eyes and needs, so who were they to question it? She could see how Maddie was broken hearted by this revelation, though. But what could she do? The heart will always want what it wants.

They got ready together, Maddie finally relented to wearing a black and white body fitting Lycra dress that flared into a knee-length flowy skirt below the waist, and begrudgingly allowed Maria to lightly put 20-year-old make up on her face, her hair left to fall free around her shoulders. The two walked arm in arm to the Bison together, the town starting to walk over too. The doors to the Bison were left open, the band set up in the square. Maria found Tommy, who gushed at his wife’s beauty, before giving Maddie a low whistle and a once over. She never got all dressed up, and although feeling uncomfortable with all the attention, she enjoyed feeling like maybe, just MAYBE, she was a little bit beautiful tonight, even if only to herself.

When Joel saw Maddie for the first time that evening, he just about had a heart attack. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. He had always thought she was beautiful, even in her simplicity and no muss no fuss attitude. He had always preferred natural beauty on his ladies, and Maddie just looked stunning tonight.

Joel wasn’t looking too bad himself, despite the wrapped forearm. Maddie’s heart literally skipped a beat when she saw him. Dark jeans, a dark green dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, the top few buttons undone. Even his usually mussed curls were tamed tonight, he had styled it a little bit. Damn he looked good enough to eat.

Their eyes met across the room. They both smiled, hoping to convey what they were feeling to each other in those smiles. Someone tapped her on her shoulder. Maddie turned around, and came face to face with a stunning looking, perfectly styled Vanessa, her perfect body wrapped in a skintight red dress, her ample cleavage threatening to jump out and eat Maddie alive.

“Oh my God Maddie you came!!!” she said, giving her an exaggerated air kiss on each cheek. “You look beautiful!!” she exclaimed, giving Maddie a once over.

“Thanks Vanessa. You look good too,” Maddie said, slightly crestfallen. Even on her best dressed day, Vanessa managed to make her feel like an underdressed clown.

Joel came over, two drinks in his hands. He extended one of the drinks towards them, his eyes fixed on hers, but before Maddie could even think of taking the drink, it had disappeared from his hand.

“Why thank you handsome,” Vanessa cooed, the drink now in her hand, her free arm linking itself to Joel’s (was that a bit of annoyance on his face?). “You look good tonight,” she added, her easy smile turned very flirty. “Doesn’t Maddie look good too? You should dress up more often you know, you look really nice tonight,” she added, giving her another once over.

“Yeah, she looks beautiful,” Joel said, his eyes still on Maddie, who felt her face go red. “You really do look stunning tonight,” he said to her directly, his eyes soft and dark at the same time. “Would you…”

“There you are Marcus! Will you look at how beautiful Maddie looks tonight?” Vanessa interrupted, arms tightening around Joel’s bicep.

Maddie turned around to see Marcus looking her up and down, his mouth wide open in a big grinny disbelief, his hands wide open at the sight of her.

“Oh my God, you look amazing!” he said, his arms dropped, taking her hands in his. He twirled her around and bent a little to give her a lingering kiss on the cheek.

“Oh, stop it,” Maddie said, faking a shy smile, smacking him on his chest, but kissed him back. “Look at you! You clean up well Dr Adams!” she continued, fake batting her eyelashes at him.

The two laughed cheekily at each other. When they turned around, Maddie was met with Vanessa’s face grinning at the sight in front of her, while Joel… Joel looked like he was about to kill Marcus, the hand around his drink looking suspiciously white from his grip. Marcus ignored Joel’s murderous eyes and pulled Maddie’s hand into his.

“Come on little nurse lady, let’s get you a drink. And then, we are going to dance the night away,” he remarked.

“Bye you two!!!” Vanessa chirped happily, her arm still wrapped around Joel’s, before he pulled it away.

Maddie let herself be pulled away. She was going to have fun tonight, she thought. Nothing will ruin tonight for her, she had been through a hell of a year, a hell of twenty years, in fact, and she deserved to let loose and have fun. So, she had a few drinks, and danced with Marcus. Every now and again, she saw Joel standing somewhere in the room, leaning against a pole or a wall, his eyes always fixed on her, Vanessa right next to him, chatting merrily at whoever was closest to them. She and Maria changed partners for a song or two, Tommy being the goofy dance partner Maddie always thought he would be. But despite having so much fun, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to dance in Joel’s arms, him holding her close again, her face in the crook of his neck, surrounded by his heat and that very Joel smell that she missed so much.

She couldn’t get him alone though, Vanessa always beside him, even though she didn’t see them dance at all. Plus, what were the etiquettes here? Should she ask him to dance? Or wait for him to ask her? Was that an okay thing to do? To dance with the man she was desperately in love with when he had his stunning girlfriend clinging to him like a leech? Sheesh Vanessa, honestly. Was she capable of leaving his side for a second? We all got it, Vanessa, message received loud and clear. You were with Joel. No need to stay clamped to him like that all night. She resigned herself to the fact that she would not be dancing with him and pulled Maria to the bar for more drinks.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off Maddie even for a second. His heart filled with longing to go over and ask Maddie for a dance, but she was always with Marcus, and even Tommy took a turn or two dancing with her (damn him, damn them both!). And Vanessa wouldn’t leave his side even for a second, and no matter how much she batted her eyelashes at him and begged him for a dance, he just didn’t feel like it. The woman he wanted to dance with was dancing with the annoyingly good-looking and charming town doctor, not him, the resident town grump. The annoyingly good-looking and charming town doctor whom she spent all her working days with. The annoyingly good-looking, charming town doctor whose hands saved lives, unlike his. The annoyingly good-looking and charming town doctor who spent the evening expertly and effortlessly twirling her around the dance floor like he was some ballroom dancing expert, while Joel couldn’t even convince himself that he would be able to dance with her without looking at or stepping on his own feet, let alone hers.

When Vanessa finally left his side to go to the bathroom, Joel decided he needed to act and ask Maddie for a dance. But he would be a gentleman about it and ask Marcus for permission first. After all, Maddie was his friend first. They came to town together. They had been living together since they arrived here. They had all this history together. It shouldn’t be weird if they danced together, right? So, Joel made his way towards Marcus, determined to be polite and ask the annoyingly good-looking and charming town doctor if he would mind letting him, the resident town grump Joel Miller, to ask his lady for a dance. He got to Marcus, who was chatting with Tommy, drink in hand, and gathered up the courage to ask him the dreaded question. But Marcus’s attention was suddenly distracted by a man who had just entered the pub, looking exhausted, obviously just in from patrol.

“Hey, you made it,” Marcus said, smiling happily before greeting the man with a hug and a sweet peck on the lips. “I don’t know if you two had met. Francis, this is Joel. Joel, this is my husband Francis,” he said.

Joel had seen Francis around before. He was the leader of one of the patrol teams, but since Joel led another team, they had never worked together. He took Francis’s outstretched hand and shook it, commenting that he had seen him around town…

…wait… HUSBAND?

“You’re gay?” Joel couldn’t stop himself from asking incredulously, while Tommy choked on his drink.

“Er… yeah… is that a problem?” Marcus hesitantly asked back.

Tommy and Francis stood there looking at the confused resident town grump and the perplexed, annoyingly good-looking and charming town doctor.

“No, of course not, I just didn’t know. Wait… does Maddie know you’re gay?” Joel asked again, unable to hide the confusion on his face.

“Of course she does. She’s my best friend, I tell her everything,” Marcus said, almost laughingly.

“But I thought…” and Joel’s thoughts remained a mystery when a teenager’s carefully aimed shoe made contact with his head, jolting all four grown men out of the discussion that was not meant to be had at that exact time.

All four men spun around to look at the source of the well-aimed shoe, Joel rubbing his head, only to be met by an extremely angry and hostile looking Ellie.

“What the fuck did you do old man? What did you fucking say to her?” she screamed, launching herself at him, smacking him everywhere she could reach.

Despite the merry music playing, the bar went quiet, everyone staring at the newly unfolding drama.

“What are you talking about? What did I do? What did I say to whom?” Joel asked, fending off her smacks, before bending down to pick up her weapon of choice.

“Maddie! She’s moved out! Her room’s all empty! What did you say to her? Did you chase her out? How could you do that?” she raised her arm to smack him again, but Joel held her hand to stop her.

“Maddie moved out? When?” he asked. He turned around, saw Maddie and Maria, back from the bar with drinks in their hands.

“You moved out?” he asked her, his face disbelieving, hurt, betrayed.

“Okay let’s all calm down and take this outside, shall we?” Maria said calmly, her town mayor persona taking over, taking Maddie’s drink from her hand, passing both their glasses to someone before ushering a stunned Joel and a stone-faced Maddie outside. Tommy took Ellie by the shoulder, doing the same, and Marcus and Francis followed.

Once they were further away from the music, they all stood around awkwardly, before Joel piped up again.

“You moved out?” he asked Maddie again, genuinely unable to believe what he had just heard.

Maddie kept looking at the ground, unable to look him in the eyes. Marcus went to her side, holding her close to him. She nodded slowly, eyes still on the ground.

“Why?”

Maddie finally looked up, annoyed that he had the gall to ask that question.

“Isn’t that what you wanted? I overheard you, Joel. And Vanessa told me. I know all of it Joel. Just because you didn’t have the balls to tell me doesn’t mean I don’t know what is going on,” she said, her voice shaking slightly with anger.

“What are you talking about? What did you overhear? What did Vanessa tell you?”

Maddie scoffed. Unbelievable.

“I know you wanted me out of the house, Joel. I heard you two talking with Tommy and Maria,” she said, looking at Joel and Ellie, her face now contorted, tears threatening to spill out.

“Wait, what?” Maria spoke up. “He never told us he wanted you out,” she continued. Tommy, confusion on his face, also shook his head no. Even Ellie looked confused.

“I heard you guys. You wanted me out. It was good for me. I shouldn’t depend on you forever. I should be independent,” her tears falling now.

A flash of understanding came across the four faces in front of her.

“That was about me,” Ellie said. “I asked Joel if he and Tommy could fix the garage up for me, so I can live there by myself, have a space of my own. That way I don’t have to depend on you two forever,” she explained.

“I was clearing it out today, finally have some time to get started,” Joel added, showing her his bandaged arm, “I was gonna talk to you about it when we had some time alone.”

“Wait a minute,” Marcus interjected. “I was there. I heard Vanessa said you wanted Maddie to move out so that she can move in with you.”

“Why the fuck would I want my patrol partner to move in with me?” Joel looked at Marcus like he was speaking in some foreign language.

Now everyone in that group just looked extremely confused, looking at Joel like he had three heads. Why would Joel call his girlfriend his patrol partner? Sure, that’s who she was too, but that’s just weird. Joel now felt like he was the new kid in school, on his first day, where everyone knew something that he didn’t. Someone said Joel’s name amidst the confusing, uncomfortable silence. The group turned around, Vanessa approaching, a nervous smile on her face.

“What’s going on here? Are we moving the party to the back alley now?” she asked, her face filled with uncertainty, but still smiling, her arm snaking around Joel’s.

Joel snatched his arm away. He turned to face her fully, his face serious, her smile faltering.

“Vanessa, what the fuck have you been telling everyone?”

***

“What do you mean, Joel?” Vanessa asked sweetly, her face looking like she would rather be anywhere else but there at the moment, “I didn’t say anything to anyone…”

“Is anyone going to tell me what is going on? Why would I ask her to move in with me?” Joel turned around, asking the silent people around him instead.

Vanessa’s face turned chalk white. Shit, cat’s out of the bag. She couldn’t believe these people went behind her back. She kept telling them not to tell Joel. Sheesh. How hard was it to follow a simple request?

“Well, I don’t know what she told others, but she told me…” Ellie began.

“Ellie…” Vanessa interrupted, panic beginning to invade her voice.

“Shut up Vanessa,” Joel snapped. “Ellie?”

“She told me you and her are dating,” Ellie finished.

The rest of the group murmured a silent ‘yep’. Everyone apart from Maddie, who stayed quiet, eyes glued to her feet.

“You told them what?” Joel’s face was red now, his eyes snapping to Vanessa.

“No Joel, they must have misunderstood…” she began, but Maria cut her off.

“No Vanessa. You told me you and Joel were dating, exclusively.”

“No, I didn’t,” Vanessa starting to sound like a denial puppet now.

Maddie was still silent. Marcus couldn’t stay silent anymore, his memory of all the tears Maddie had shed resulting from this redhead’s poison just pushed the words out,

“I heard you told Maddie Joel wanted her out of the house so that you can move in with him, Vanessa. That you guys have a lot of very loud sex. In fact, I heard you said that you two were going ‘to start a family of your own’,” he added, complete with air quotes.

Joel’s eyes were shooting daggers at Vanessa now. His body so stiff the vein on his neck were practically popping open.

“Vanessa, why would you say that?” he asked, his voice strained from controlled anger.

Vanessa looked at everyone desperately, silently begging for someone to step up to her defense. No one did, in fact she was met with stone-faced people, all staring at her, waiting for her explanation, except for Maddie, who was still looking at her feet.

“Because I am in love with you, Joel! But all you could think about was her! I just thought, if I could just get her to pull away from you, or make you believe she wasn’t interested…”

“So, you told her we were together? That I wanted her to move out? That I wanted to start a family with you? To scare her away from me? That’s why you kept pushing the idea of her and Marcus at me? You wanted me to think she wasn’t interested in me?” her delusions were so vapid and over the top he couldn’t believe she thought she was going to get away with it all.

“Oh, come on Joel. Look at them. He can barely keep his hands off her. They spend all day together, how sure are you they are not just fucking their brains out when they’re alone at the clinic?” Vanessa spat out, pointing at the way Marcus had Maddie close in his arms.

“Erm… He’s been married to me for 8 years,” Francis piped up.

Vanessa spluttered. In all her scheming, she never thought Marcus might be gay, too self-important and vain to learn more about the people around her unless she was interested in them. She could not see a way out. All her carefully laid plan just burst out into the open. The romantic images of her and Joel riding off into the sunset together now a darkened fantasy.

“I just don’t see why we can’t be together Joel!” she pleaded, “We are perfect together. We work well together. We look good together! Why would you want some dried-up old maid when you can have me, Joel?” her face now wet with self-pitying tears, her hands reaching out to take his face in her hands. He slapped them away.

“Vanessa,” he said, his voice shaky and dangerously low. “I told you, many times, that I am not interested in you like that. We are patrol partners, in fact, after tonight, I wouldn’t even call us that, much less friends,” he continued, taking careful, deep breaths.

“Joel! Please Joel, give us a chance. I am so much better for you than she ever will be Joel, we could be so happy,” she pleaded, trying to take his hands. He took a step back, choosing his words carefully, fists clenched by his sides, trembling slightly.

“You will never speak to me again, you understand? Stay away from my family. You are going to tell everyone what you have done. If anyone still believed us to be couple by Monday, or if I hear you say anything bad about Maddie, or see you so much as look her way, so help me God, I will feed you to the clickers myself. Leave now Vanessa, before I forget myself and hurt you.”

Vanessa stood there like a stump. Her usually beautiful face looked exceptionally ugly under the dim lights behind the Tipsy Bison, tears streaking down her face. Unable to defend herself any longer, she turned and walked away defeatedly, her shoulders slumped.

Another uncomfortable silence surrounded the group.

“Does anyone feel stupid that we didn’t see this coming? I mean, if we had just asked Joel in the first place…” Tommy said, glaring at Maria, who was now regretting not doing just that.

A slew of uncomfortable looks and silent, awkward nods followed.

More silence.

“Well,” Francis said with a deep breath, “This was fun, but I would like to go back to the party and drink my achy bones away, perhaps have a dance or two with my husband,” he said.

Marcus looked at Maddie, a small smile on his face. He kissed her on the temple before letting her go, patting Joel on the shoulder, and walking hand in hand with Francis back to the party. Tommy cleared his throat.

“Yeah, well, I think I might join them. Baby?” he looked at Maria, holding his hand out for hers.

Maria reached out and gave Maddie a quick hug, before taking her husband’s hand and walking away with him. Ellie gave an exasperated sigh at her parental figures.

“Seriously people. You call yourselves my parents? Even I know to communicate, even if it’s just slamming doors. Sheesh,” she said, before starting to walk away. She stopped dead in her tracks, turned to the two of them and said, “By the way, I will be spending tonight at Dina’s. You two should be alone, and… erm… ‘talk’,” she said cheekily, before running off.

Alone at last, Joel and Maddie stayed silent for a while, both awkwardly shuffling their feet while looking at anything their eyes would land on but each other. Joel finally broke the tension, taking her hand, leading her to a bench in front of the clinic. Ellie was right, it’s time they finally talked. Sitting side by side, they shared what Vanessa had been doing as far as they knew.

***

Vanessa’s poison ran deep. She had always been friendly with everyone on the patrol team but set her eyes on Joel from the moment he arrived. She saw how closed up and private he was, so she spent the first couple of months being friendly to him, just a partner, patrolling together, idle chit chats while on duty. Eventually, she managed to get him to talk about Maddie and Ellie, and she saw how Maddie was her main competitor for his affection.

She got him to trust her, be his confidant, as much of a confidant as one can be for the very private Joel Miller. Encouraged him to tell Maddie about his feelings. She listened to him and acted all excited when he told her she had agreed to go out for drinks with him.

She took advantage of Maddie’s absence during her care for Mr. Crushed-by-his-Fridge. Be all buddy-buddy with him, all dressed up, while subtly becoming more and more physical with him. A touch here, a hug there, a head on the shoulder here, an arm around his there… friendly, but friendlier than usual.

She planted the idea of Maddie and Marcus in his head. Joel didn’t bite, so she changed tactics.

She planted the idea of her and Joel in Maddie’s head. She asked her to “do a girl a solid” and let the two of them have some “alone time”. She knew clinic staff stayed at the apartment above the clinic sometimes.

Vanessa ‘accidentally’ ran into him early in the morning the next day, Joel out of his mind with worry because he had just realized that Maddie did not come home that night. She told him she saw her going up to the apartment. She hit the jackpot when Marcus was there too. Now Joel was devastated, heartbroken that Maddie had found someone else.

Vanessa offered her couch, or even her bed for him to stay at, so Maddie and Marcus can have some alone time, they were a new couple after all. He was broken-hearted but decided to stay out of the house for a bit, but not at Vanessa’s. He chose the keeper’s room at the stable instead, sleeping there for almost a week, worried that he might react badly if Marcus came to the house.

Joel still refused her advances on him, insisting that they are only patrol partners. So, she upped her game plan. She subtly pushed the idea of her and Joel being together to Maria and Ellie. Maybe they will start saying her name more to him, be supportive of the idea, this would somehow push Joel into entertaining the idea of them being together.

The plan backfired. Instead of pushing Joel towards Vanessa, Ellie acted out, unhappy that her ‘parents’ were avoiding each other. Joel and Maddie stayed together for Ellie’s sake, rather than separating.

As a last-ditch effort, Vanessa concocted the delusional plan that she and Joel were planning to move in together, effectively planting the idea that Joel wanted her in, and Maddie out. The Ellie and the garage conversation was just an unplanned bonus, but the plan worked. Maddie was hurt enough to distance herself further from Joel, making him feel defeated. To Vanessa’s detriment, Joel still wouldn’t see her as more than a friend.

So, when she saw him injured at the clinic, she took the opportunity to give Joel some PDA to push in Maddie’s face, and Marcus coming in to protect Maddie helped convince Joel further that they really were together. But instead of being sad and finally giving in to Vanessa's advances, Joel chose to just be 'happy' for Maddie, just the way Maddie was for him. Even after all that, Joel stood firm - he was not interested in Vanessa like that. She had asked him to go to the Bison as her date, but he refused. She was determined to stick to Joel that night, never letting him go out of her sight, knowing he was too much of a gentleman to push her away in public. He had refused to dance with her at all, his eyes fixed on Maddie, who spent the entire night dancing merrily in Marcus’s arms. Vanessa kept mentioning what a lovely couple they were, Joel now obviously believing that Maddie and Marcus were indeed a couple. She was convinced that he will give in - just a little more time. All seemed to be going her way.

That was, until Francis walked in.

***

The two took deep breaths together, angry at themselves for letting themselves be fooled by this poisonous woman.

“We need to communicate better,” Joel said, shaking his head in disbelief, chuckling a little at the stupidity of it all.

Maddie could only nod in agreement, feeling drained and stupid for letting these lies cloud her judgments. But… something was missing. She looked at him questioningly,

“Wait, so if you were never with Vanessa, who were you with? I heard you having sex, Joel. I ran out so fast my feet almost caught fire.”

Joel frowned, searching his mind, trying to figure out what she was talking about. He hadn’t had se… oh no… God no… his face turned red at the realisation of what she heard. Words formed in his mind, trying to explain the situation she was referring to, one where he thought he was alone in the house for, but broken, disconnected words were all he managed to get out,

“Erm… sex? I haven’t had… not since… erm… I was not having sex… I was… erm… well… wait, you didn’t happen to hear your name too, did you?” his ears were now so red she could see the colour change even in the dim lighting of the sidewalk.

Realisation dawned on Maddie’s face, turning red on its own accord. Both of their faces now red hot from embarrassment, laughing softly. They continued sitting there, shoulders almost touching, their bodies swaying together to the faraway music from the square.

“So… you are not with Marcus?” Joel finally asked, a small smile on his blushing face.

Maddie smiled shyly, shaking her head slightly. “And you, you are not with Vanessa?” she asked him back.

“Never,” he said, shuffling closer to her. “I actually have a huge crush on my roommate,” he said, turning his body towards her, offering her his hands, “In fact, I am certain that I am in love with her.”

Maddie took his hands in hers, tears falling down on her cheeks. Joel kissed them away silently, putting his forehead on hers, whispering her name.

“Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry,” he said quietly, before taking her face in his hands, bringing her lips to his own, kissing her for the first time.

He held her tight, arms surrounding her, never wanting to let go. She wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers caressing his curls, sighing contentedly into the kiss. He deepened the kiss, swallowing her moans as she melted into his body. He stopped himself before the kiss turned desperate, very much aware they were on a sidewalk in front of the clinic, in perfect view of the townsfolk who were still going to the Bison. He took her by the hand, interlacing his fingers with hers, and asked her if he could take her home.

“My apartment is just through that door,” she whispered in his ears, pointing to the door behind him.

Joel’s body tensed. Without saying another word, he lifted her up bridal style, earning a shriek from her, and carried her up the stairs to the small apartment. He kicked the door closed before placing her gently on the twin bed in the middle of the room. He joined her on the bed, hovering over her, not caring that the bed was far too small for the both of them.

“Joel, your arm, we shouldn’t,” Maddie began, but he silenced her with a long, deep kiss.

“So, I hear you are in love with your roommate,” Maddie said. Joel chuckled shyly, his nose rubbing against hers. “Well guess what?” she asked, as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m in love with my roommate too,” she told him. His face lit up, and he claimed her lips again.

Joel didn’t want to leave any room for Maddie to doubt his desire for her that night. He took her slowly, thoroughly, his lips and tongue covering every bit of skin he unraveled when undressing her, leaving her moaning, squirming and breathless before she was even naked. When he finally took her soaked underwear off, the growl he let out had her wondering if he was secretly some sort of an animal, and boy oh boy was he one. He devoured her like he was some famished man who had spent his days peeking longingly into the window of a high-class restaurant he couldn’t possibly afford, ravenous from the deprivation of the ultimate feast that seemed unreachable for him until that very moment - her. Joel’s name became a prayer, ranging from desperate whiny whispers all the way to full blown screams that became hoarser and hoarser as the night went on. Maddie swore she saw God at least three times before his shirt was even off, shocked that he still had a full head of those beautiful curls from how hard she was pulling at them, legs shaking, chest heaving, her entire body flushed from the pleasure he had given her.

When she had calmed down, she climbed atop him, slowly torturing him with soft kisses, kitten licks and caresses, taking her time exploring his body, beginning from his eyebrows, going further and further down until he was so hard his entire body was shaking uncontrollably, his brain deprived from all the blood it needed, his words slurred and mumbled. She was amazed by the power she had over him at that moment – Joel Miller, the resident town grump, the man who ran amok through an entire hospital to save his daughter, the heroic alpha who could slash his way through bands of clickers and raiders alike – reduced to babbling nonsensical mumbo jumbo that almost had her giggling from satisfaction. When she slowly lowered his boxers, she blew softly on his unraveled manhood, leaving him gasping for air, his trembling body suddenly stock still from the pleasure a simple puff of air provided. She wet her lips, her mouth watering at the sight, and lowered her head to finally, finally taste him. But before she could even touch him, his hands stopped her, his body flipping her onto her back. He placed his head on her chest, telling her in a strained voice with much certainty that if she were to touch him at that moment, he would spontaneously combust.

Slowly, with their lips locked together in a passionate kiss, he entered her, inch by impressive inch, pulling back slightly, going deeper with each tortuously slow thrust, until he stilled, whispering to her between kisses that he needed a moment, fully encased in her warmth, his thick tip nudging at a spot Maddie never knew existed until now. She forgot how to breathe, her entire body responding to this much welcomed and long overdue union, the coil in her belly bubbling hot just from this one initial nudge, her insides involuntarily clenching to find release. He almost screamed, before composing himself, taking deep breaths, shutting his eyes from her reaction. He begged her, pleaded with her not to move, not to clench, his entire body straining from trying not to burst, his arms holding her tight, his face, neck and chest red from the effort, his teeth gritted, his eyes shut tight, beads of sweat glistening all over his beautiful face. She in turn was begging him over and over to forgive her, her body wasn’t listening to his pleas. She’s sorry, she’s sorry, she’s so very sorry, she couldn’t help it. Despite him not moving at all, she was too close, too hungry, too desperate for release, her core continuously squeezing him so tightly, milking him for all he had to give her, pulsating around him again and again until her entire body shook with unmitigated pleasure, stars bursting behind her eyes, sending her to heaven and back, a silent scream releasing from her open mouth, her hands clutching at his back, her vision whitened, her ears ringing, taking him with her to nirvana.

When she could finally breathe again, the room was quiet, save for their quivering breaths. His body was slumped over hers, his head in the crook of her neck. She held him tight, her fingers absentmindedly drawing circles on his back, a satisfied smile on her face. The silence was finally broken by his muffled voice, mumbled into her neck, before he managed to muster the energy to lift his head, his face red from embarrassment, having finished so early, inciting giggles from her. He buried his face in her neck again, mortified by his body’s betrayal, while she kept assuring him between sweet kisses that he had nothing to be embarrassed about. After all, she said, there’s always the next time. Wiggling his eyebrows, he kissed her with a smile, and promised vehemently that he would make up for it.

And after a short rest, he did make up for it, again and again that night. He made up for it again on Sunday morning despite complaining that the small bed had fucked his back, again after breakfast, while packing, showering, once more before leaving that evening, and one more time for good measure when he finally took her home, to their now shared bedroom.

***

The very tired but glowing couple walked to the clinic Monday morning, fingers entwined with one another’s. Maddie was due to start her shift, and Joel’s back and arm needed looking at, his back extremely sore and some of his stitches ripped from… unplanned strenuous activities. They were greeted by a very annoyed looking Marcus, a bucket of cleaning supplies at his feet. He complained that the apartment smelt like sex, unable to hide the smile behind his faux annoyance. So, Maddie’s sole duty for the day was to sanitize that apartment top to bottom, so that Marcus could actually get his rest there when needed without having to worry about… contamination.

As delusional as Vanessa had been in her concoction of her torrid sexcapades with Joel, she was right about one thing. The man may be middle aged, but he was young where it counted. The man was insatiable. Ever since that Saturday night, he couldn’t leave Maddie alone, hands constantly on her. Whenever they were in the same room, a part of him must be touching her at all times. A hand on her thigh, his little finger hooked on hers, his chest on her back, his arm around her shoulder, his fingers interlaced with hers, his chin on her shoulder, his arms around her waist, and those were when there were others around. When alone, those ‘innocent’ (his words, not hers) touches were always accompanied by his lips on her person, his talented tongue joining in on the action not long after. And well, the rest… followed.

Ellie made sure to knock as loudly as she could before going into any room in the house now, even open areas like the corridor, the living room or the kitchen, using anything she could use to make as much noise as she could, eyes closed tight until Joel or Maddie responded, her mind still haunted by what she saw when she walked in on her parents going at it like rabbits on the couch, which she steadfastly refused to sit on now, even after they made a show of thoroughly cleaning it in front of her.

“It’s the mental image of it, guys, you’re gonna have to scrub my actual brain to get rid of that,” she exclaimed, “Can’t believe you mowed down an entire hospital to save me, and then let me go through THAT…” she mumbled under her breath, shaking her head. “Let’s erm… get the ‘me moving into the garage bit’ going yeah? So, I don’t fear for my mental health much longer?” The girl had been through literal and figurative hell and back, and walking in on her parents having sex was still the worst thing she had ever seen.

Their life and routines together flourished. As far as Jackson were concerned, they were a family. Sure, the ladies still ogled Joel like he was a popsicle on a hot day, but Maddie now knew for sure that he only had eyes for her.

Vanessa had been taken out of Joel’s patrol team and placed on wall duty, partnered with only women, most of whom acted like she wasn’t there unless needed. Life hadn’t been easy for her since that night. Word of her scheming had spread like wildfire, and the ladies of Jackson, even the single ones, avoided her like the plague, worried she would go after their men. Even the men avoided her - save for some shameless lecherous ones who only wanted one thing from her – worried that they would be trapped by her. Safe to say that any hopes for her to settle down and have a family was long gone.

She in turn, avoided the Millers as much as she could, turning around and going another direction whenever she saw them. She couldn’t avoid going to the clinic when she needed treatment, but she had no choice. Thankfully, Maddie and Marcus were much too classy to treat her like a leper, her shame was enough of a punishment without them having to add to it.

***

A year later, Ellie ran into the house in such a rush she didn’t have time to knock, running upstairs, barging into her parents’ room with her eyes closed tight, a hectic scrambling on the bed letting her know she had been right to do so.

“Guys, Tommy sent me, Maria’s in labour!” she yelled.

Maddie and Joel dressed quickly, Maddie telling Ellie to go get Marcus.

“Tommy already went to get him. And eww Maddie, wash your hands! God knows what part of Joel you just touched,” she squirmed, eyes still closed shut. She turned around to leave, muttering under her breath, “With all your canoodling I am shocked Maria’s having a baby and not you…”

Joel and Maddie looked at each other, a knowing smile on their faces.

[fenrysmoonbeamswife]

Okay okay okay I don't know if this will even make sense or just sound dramatic or like rambling so bare with me I guess

I keep seeing people saying "oh you don't think reading should be made political but you read books like ACOTAR and xyz?" and while I totally get the point and agree with it, let's just look at this particular example for a second because it's completely unsurprising.

Let's be real, the majority of the people who read ACOTAR praise the "inner circle". They see them as the good guys, the best of the best, "goals", whatever. It has gotten to the point that it's almost cult-like, I mean I've seen people who haven't even read the books already in love with the inner circle just because fans basically convince them to be.

Anyway, even just their name is already starting off bad, the inner circle? By actual definition an inner circle is a curated group who move in the same circle. AKA the elite few chosen out of complete bias by the leader (not for any particular care for their people or political savvy because we know they have none of that) just because they're "besties"

This particular inner circle consists of

1. A man who has committed sexual assault, abuse, war crimes, murder and more. Has quite literally segregated his own people and abandoned 2/3s of his court. Knows about and allows the unrelenting physical, mental and sexual abuse of the women and children he is responsible for. Locked up survivors of sexual abuse and uses them for free labour and pretended it was some sort of charity.

2. A man who obliterated a village because of his own rage. Committed physical and emotional abuse and sexual harassment. Takes some sort of pleasure out of seeing women in pain.

3. A literal torturer (granted he doesn't seem to actually enjoy his job but he still does it)

4. A woman who abandoned all of the other women who are abused the way she was even though she's quite literally in charge of the place. Who also said that a woman at her worst mentally after severe trauma should be punished by being put with her abusers.

5. And literally a 1000+ year old ex-inmate of the Prison. Baring in mind we don't know why she was in the Prison, she wasn't pardoned or anything similar she escaped so she is still a criminal as far as we know and she is the nastiest skank ass bitch ever so I can only assume she did something horrific based on everything she's ever said. Ever. (this is mostly a Mean Girls joke because Rhysand is literally a Regina George wannabe but also Amren is the nastiest skank ass bitch)

These are the same people who are pretty racist towards Illyrians, make borderline vicious animals out of Illyrian men and allow them to do as they please so that they have disposable pawns to fight their wars and have left the Illyrian women and children to be abused by them. The same people who have decided that the entirety of Hewn city are abusive, not that there could possibly be any other women or children in similar situations to Mor. The same people who, while they build their *checks notes* fifth mansion, tear down buildings for funsies because they can't abuse whoever they want to use their powers. The same people who got pissed off about someone *double checks notes* saving another world and their own.

I'm sorry (not) but the same people who support and adore and worship these characters are typically the ones who "don't want to bring politics into reading" and say things like "it's just fiction". It isn't just fiction. There is no such thing as just fiction.

Reading will always be political. And I'm using ACOTAR as an example because I'm seeing it used and found it ironic in a way but christ nearly every fantasy book if not literally every fantasy book out there has politics that can be directly correlated to our own. I mean I always say that if someone told me that different people wrote ACOTAR and Throne of Glass I would believe them but at the same time that's mostly a joke because of how drastically different they are. I found Throne of Glass so deep, so much more focused on the underdog, the seemingly smaller stories that add up the the bigger picture, the end result of everyone not just the select few (the inner circle). Don't get me wrong, there are problems with it but a lot of them are called out in the writing and you can see that for the most part it's the writing of a young dreamer. And then you have ACOTAR and it's just so privileged and biased and trying so hard to tell you that the elite are at some sort of disadvantage and like basically you could convince me it was written by a straight white man with 0 effort.

Moral of the story is, when someone like SJM uses Breonna Taylors death to hype up her own book, it's not just fiction. When SJM who very clearly self inserts into ACOTAR and puts her own beliefs that she's taken from the real world into these stories that she writes, it's not just fiction. When she takes real world examples of abuse and privilege and segregation and misogyny and whatever fucking else and puts them into her stories, it's not just fiction. When what you're reading directly correlates to or effects your own political beliefs, it's not just fiction. When what you're reading can be translated to the real world in a scarily realistic way, it's not just fiction. When we could wake up tomorrow and be in the exact same situations we read about, it's not just fiction. Fiction is fiction sure, but it will always be based on real life. There is only so much the imagination can do, it needs a base point and that is the real world. So it is never just fiction

[murfpersonalblog]

"I agree that Lestat had nothing to do with [Paul's death] directly. However, if we remember that episode, Paul was like: 'That man is a devil, he got into my head!' And my whole thing was, I mean Lestat did get into his head.... I don't believe Lestat pushed him to do what he did? But obviously Paul was very mentally ill. That, mixed with him being hyper-religious and hyper-Christian, I feel like that intrusion of Lestat into his mind? Maybe it made him feel like his temple was unclean, or it made him feel like the devil got into my head and now I am soiled now I am bad. And it probably pushed him to do that. So I don't believe Lestat did do that to [Louis'] brother. But I think [Lestat's] intrusion into [Paul's] brain probably played a role in him doing that, so I'm glad they spoke on it here."

WOW | Interview With The Vampire 1x6 | Reaction & Commentary - FrankFreezy (23:23 - 24:37)

I LOVE this so much.

Cuz it goes back to what I was saying here: Louis has ALWAYS loved Lestat--beyond reason, religion, family, himself, Claudia AND Paul combined. I HATE when people act like Louis never loved Lestat, or never showed Lestat how much he loved him. Pay attention, y'all!

IWTV S2 Ep8 Musings - LDPDL: Burning Questions (Pt2)

EVERYONE called Lestat the Devil. Louis KNEW what Lestat did to Paul--both at the family dinner, and what Paul said later on the roof. He knew it was all true, cuz he'd seen it with his own eyes, and he'd FELT the same way--Louis felt unclean & soiled & bad, and RAN out of 1132 after they had sex the first time; and RAN to the confessional screaming "HELP ME, Father, he's in my head!" after Paul died.

But the gothic horror/romance is that despite seeing Les at his absolute worst, killing all those priests like an utter demon, LOU CHOSE LESTAT ANYWAY. And it's been (literally) KILLING him ever since. "I run to bad beds!" His 128+ dead men in SanFran are all Les!

It's why I love Ep5, as it's just more of the same: seeing Lestat at his worst and Lou STILL loving the monster AND the man in Ep6 (my fave episode in the whole series so far). Seeing Les try to kill Claudia in 1x7 and STILL mourning him all the way into 2x7.

There's A LOT of Les' trash Lou settles for & accepts, inc. even the suspicion that Les ad something to do with Paul's death; inc. Les abusing both him & Claudia. It's not until Les SPAT on Lou's love before a whole crowd of lynchers with "Come to Me" that the last straw broke how much Louis could forgive, cuz "Come to Me/Viens a moi" was when Les got into LOUIS' head and drove HIM to death (vampirism) too, literally in 1x1 & figuratively in 1x6.

The fandom doesn't talk about the dubcon/noncon/mind-rape of the Come to Me/church scene as much as we should, and how much of a violation it was for Les to be barging all up in Lou's head the way he was, while Lou was literally suffering an entire grief-triggered drunken suicidal mental breakdown. Lou's POV makes it seem more like lethal assault (I'm being mortally hunted; my life/soul's in danger by the white Devil). But Lestat/the script acknowledged the predatory nature of Come to Me during the Trial, when Les flipped it to make it seem like Lou had (sexually) assaulted HIM instead (my purity/chastity's in danger by the Black pimp).

This violation of their relationship is IT for Louis ("those were HIS words! F**k you!"). Their history is sullied, Lou's name & reputation (personhood) is dragged through the mud & soiled. ("I was dead.") With Claudia dead and Les betraying them by participating in the rigged Trial, Lou was able to believe Armand's weak AF lies for 77 years ("bad beds"); and sacrifice his love/marriage, "kill" Les & get divorced (Lou's most non-Catholic move of all, LOL) for good.

Les had ONE chance to be honest about the Trial (the 2x8 Tower Scene) & totally blew it by letting Armand get away with "Banishment." It all comes home (literally, in NOLA), when Lou finally stops running AWAY from uncomfortable truths, and asks the burning questions about Les that REALLY define their relationship.

Cuz it's not really about the Trial, or even Claudia; it's about Paul, the catalyst for Louis' entire arc--she was just the final/ultimate casualty. Everyone important in Lou's life has just been another replacement for Paul, "I loved him more than anyone on earth." All the people he had sit & TALK to him--Lily, Lestat, Claudia, Daniel, even Armand (to an extent), are all just Lou looking for Paul--understanding, acceptance, and love--i.e.: his companion. Someone he can confide all his secrets in, who won't judge/condemn him, and who'll accept & love him for who he is.

Sam said Les is Lou's "soulmate." Even though his heinous antics constantly proved Paul RIGHT, Lou also loved when Les put in the effort to prove Paul WRONG--he CAN behave & act like a human & charm the absolute pants off of Louis by just sitting on a park bench or sofa & TALKING to Louis; CONNECTING with Louis on a deeper level than even sex (which Lou already said is the best he's EVER had--and ya boi got around in the 70s-2000!).

But Les can also match Louis' freak; show his fangs, and be an utter monster Lou ALSO loves; cuz there's something dark in Louis too, that Jacob said "needs friction."

I said before that actual saints like Jonah & Paul are way too nice for Louis; too good & pure for this world. Lou LIKES Bad Boys; he likes men who're effed up & broken, cuz it makes HIM feel like he's not alone--HE'S not so bad after all. Vamps are just crabs in a bucket, and Lou's own hyper-Catholic brain treats it as a form of punishment, that he "deserves" effed up devils like Les & Armand. Beaten down all his life, and hating himself, full of self-loathing, Lou never knew his own worth--"let's meet vampires WORTHY of your love!" In 1x5 Lou stopped putting in the effort to take care of himself & their family/household ("ignoring all other duties of the role Claudia once mocked me for: the unhappy housewife"), and stopped confronting Lestat about his BS ("He treats us like sh*t and you take it! Why is that?!"). He's about to burn Les alive in 2x8, then just visibly gives up (puts the fire out), to "kill" Les by marrying Armand (who he's not even in love with, and who KNOWS Lou's only with him to spite Les) before the ink on Loustat's divorce papers are even dry.

It's only after Daniel FINALLY helps Louis claw his way out of Armand's clutches that he understands what Claudia meant about him having never known or loved himself ("Who are you, Louis?"). Lou's TRUTH AND RECONCILIATION required that he work on bettering himself, and allowing Lestat the chance to better himself too. That "friction" was toxic AF, and they both needed a real CLEANSING, which only started when Lou opened his mouth to ask Les the truth (the false-start in 1x6 about Paul; and the real-start in 2x8 about Armand).

So yeah, I love what Frank said, cuz IMO people in the fandom miss a lot of the horrible things Les does INDIRECTLY, in order to forgive the horrible things Les does DIRECTLY--just like Louis did. But just like Louis, it's possible (& totally valid) to love the man while acknowledging the ways he IS a monster, who needs to come clean & be honest, and start taking accountability for the ways he (in)directly contributed to both Louis & Claudia (& Paul's) demise.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

the same sweet shock | alpha!rhett x omega!oc

Summary: Tessa, an omega, has a problem. She can't seem to get laid and she needs it - desperately. And when her friends suggest that she go off her suppressants for a bonfire she might just get more than she bargained for. (wc: 5288)

Warnings: omegaverse stuff/lore (of which i am not well verse do not hang me), language, background ocs, a flashback, a pinch of angst, alpha!rhett abbott my beloved, trevor is a dick, attempted assault, protective rhett, SOME FAIRLY SEXUAL CONTENT OBVS SO 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI (masturbation mention and thigh riding)

✎……listen i...something came over me...and i already have bits and pieces of the second part written so like...lemme know if ya want more

✎……MASTERLIST

“Guys, I don’know about this…” Tessa sighed as she glanced warily down at the injection needle in her hand, filled with a blue liquid.

Her suppressant dose for the following day that she usually injected just before going to sleep. But now there she sat on her bed, rolling the syringe in her hand — filled with the thing she was always told would keep her safe — debating whether or not she should take it. Just because her friends had a semi-decent point: 

It had been nearly a year since she had sex, and she needed it, desperately. 

She felt like a spring wound too tight, ready to explode with all that built up energy and force. And no matter what she did, no matter how many new toys she bought and tried out, nothing helped. It just created a stronger itch, a stronger desire. To be well and truly fucked by someone else. Held in their arms and kissed and maybe even wanted for a night. But, yet again, no matter what she did, she couldn’t find the right person to hook up with. One night stands were never her thing, and living in a small town where everyone knew everyone and she went to high school with every guy around her age, made it difficult. 

Well, she might have found someone she could see getting in bed with, but he was just a friend. Even if, for the past several months, every night when she touched herself she thought of him.

She knew you weren’t supposed to think of friends that way. But it was hard when that friend was none other than Rhett Abbott. The boy she had a crush on in high school but had only recently reconnected with. The man who, half the time, she couldn’t tell was flirting with her or not. Who looked so good in a pair of Wranglers and a stetson; rode bulls like an artist would paint. Who grinned at her like they shared some secret and blinked at her bashfully when she complimented him. How was she supposed to not think about him that way?

But it wasn’t just her lack of sex life that left her anxious and irritated most nights. It was that ever-present and gnawing feeling that there was something missing. Like there was some itch she couldn’t quite scratch. Like she left something behind and she couldn’t remember what or where. But she knew it was gone. Knew there was a hole where it should be. A gaping emptiness in her that she feared, one of these days, would consume her whole. 

She knew, on some base instinct, what it was she was missing. What it was her biology craved and longed for. But it was something she was unsure if she’d ever be able to have.

“S’gonna guarantee y’get laid, that’s f’r sure,” Chessler replied from the video call on Tessa’s laptop she was on. 

“Or I get torn t’pieces,” Tessa said.

“Oh, y’won’t get torn t’pieces!” Laney scoffed with a flick of her hand. “All them stories’re exagerated!” 

Like you’d know, Tessa thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It was difficult being the only Omega in her friend group. They were all Betas, they didn’t have to worry about heats or anything like that. They got to live normal lives for the most part. They didn’t have to worry if their supply was running low or get turned away from jobs just because of their biology. Jealousy, green and ugly, snagged at Tessa’s heart as she gripped the syringe tighter in her grip. 

“We even know if any Alphas’re gonna be at the party?” Riley asked.

“Walker’ll be there, but ll’keep’im distracted.” Laney winked and the rest of them groaned. 

“Pretty sure Cash n’his brother Trip’re comin’.”

“The Jenkin’s boys? Haven’t they been workin’ in Cheyenne?” Tessa questioned.

“I don’know tha’s just wha’I heard.” Chessler shrugged. 

Tessa took a deep breath, moved the syringe to her other hand. “Trevor’ll prolly be there…”

Trevor Tillerson. She was with him for a few months, the last man to ever touch her. And if she could go back in time and slap her younger self for getting with him, she would. He seemed nice at first. Made her feel special and showered her with gifts. That was, until he figured out she was an Omega. Then suddenly it was all pressure to get off her suppressants and expectations for her to submit to him like the Omega she was — like the Alpha he was. She broke it off and he got mad. It opened up something deep and terrifying within her to wonder what he would do if he caught her off her suppressants and possibly in a heat.

“N’so’ll Rhett,” Riley pointed out with a knowing grin.

“Yes! Rhett Abbott! Oh, s’perfect!” Laney squealed.

“Guys, we — we don’even know f’r sure if he’s an Alpha,” Tessa said, her entire face feeling hot as she looked down at her injection needle again.

“Babe, there’s no way he’s not. Have y’seen’im?” 

“Yeah, no Beta’s that confident or has that kinda…Presence.”

“S’just that…He’s never mentioned it…” she replied. 

“Maybe he’s the type t’keep it to himself. Plenty people like that.”

“Not everyone’s a complete dick about it like Trevor.”

“I guess, but…I don’know, m’just scared of what’ll happen,” Tessa said.

“Look, how ‘bout this,” Riley jumped in, “You don’take y’r suppressant tonight n’go t’the bonfire tomorrow with all those Omega hormones lurin’ the boys in, n’we’ll make sure nobody unsavory gets anywhere near ya. Deal?”

Laney and Chessler nodded in agreement. And while Tessa was still scared, still terrified that it would only end in disaster like her parents had warned so many times before, she agreed. Set her suppressant aside with a dramatic flourish so her friends could see over the video call.

What could possibly go wrong?

She felt fine for most of the day. Even normal. Going about her usual routine with only a knot of worry growing and twisting in her stomach. Mostly about what would happen that night at the bonfire, when she knew she would be surrounded by Alphas and Betas alike. She didn’t feel a heat coming on, though she hadn’t dealt with one since she was a teenager.

Tessa remembered what it felt like, despite the passage of time. Despite only experiencing it once before her parents took her to the doctor and got her on suppressants. The signs and symptoms burned into her. The memories of those days locked in her bedroom etched into her mind.

It was mostly confusion. Hatred of her own self for being this way instead of normal like all her friends. Pain and just wanting it to stop. Some instinct from deep within calling out for her Alpha to come and help her. Make it go away. Knowing that everything would be good when he was there. And it still brought some sort of embarrassment and shame to her heart that even back then, the face that came to her when she begged for her Alpha to come, was Rhett’s.

The pain started as her sister was driving her to school. Her breasts felt sore and swollen, a swirling in her gut that she couldn’t quite explain. Shiloh asked if she was alright as she pulled up in front of the school, and Tessa assured her everything was fine. Just some odd pains that she really didn’t feel like discussing with her sister in the school parking lot. It would probably go away in a few minutes.

But it didn’t. It only grew worse. By third period biology Tessa was squirming in her seat. She felt desperate for any sort of friction, everything felt swollen and wet. Hot all over and head spinning so much she couldn’t concentrate on the lesson. Her stomach was even beginning to cramp, jolts of pain with her mind screaming empty at her. 

She didn’t understand, she didn’t understand. 

And it certainly wasn’t helping that Rhett Abbott kept looking back at her every five seconds with a hungry look in his eye. 

After class, she called her mother in tears. Trying to explain without going into too many details how she was feeling and that she just wanted to go home. A bleak understanding took over her mother’s voice when she told Tessa to go to the nurse and wait for her to come get her. Tessa didn’t like the sound of it. Was she dying?

She went to the nurse and again tried to tell her what was happening. Stumbling over words and symptoms even as she felt sweat sticking to her shirt and her head became more and more clouded. Stuffed up like there was nothing else in there besides empty and Alpha. Again, understanding took over the nurse’s face and Tessa felt a sense of dread mix in with everything else as she was directed to take a seat. 

The nurse said something about making a call but Tessa couldn’t really hear her. Not when her heart was practically beating in her ears and she was trying desperately to hide the fact that she was rubbing her thighs together — trying to find some relief.

But she looked up, startled and afraid, when the door to the nurse’s station swung open.

And Rhett Abbott stood there staring at her with wide eyes, almost like he was shocked he was even there himself. Hair cropped short with a few curls dangling over his forehead, a line in it like he had been wearing a hat and been yelled at to take it off. He held a backpack with one strap on his shoulder. Lanky and tall and unaware of the fact as he took up nearly the entire doorway. 

They looked at one another for a moment. Tessa with her chest heaving and her vision going fuzzy, another cramp going through her when she caught some scent in the air. Leather and wet earth. It made something inside her ache. Made her hands itch to reach out for him, somehow knowing he could make everything better but not understanding why or how.

“M’sorry, I don’...” he trailed off as he took a step forward.

There was that smell again. So familiar, so calming — and yet she had to grip her stomach as it cramped. A whimper tumbled past her lips as she felt the first tears slip out. Rhett made to drop his backpack, take the last few strides to cross the room to her. 

But then the nurse came back into the room and gasped at the sight of him. 

“Rhett Abbott you get outta here right now! Out!”

It was a memory she didn’t like to think back on. That made her cheeks heat and her palms sweat and something inside her ache. But still that scent came to her from time to time. Leather and wet earth. Rhett, something inside her whispered every time and she had to force it down. No. Nothing ever came of it. He wouldn’t even really look at her when she came back to school a week later and hadn’t talked to her up until a few months ago. She wondered if he even remembered that day. When they both somehow knew he could fix what was wrong with her. 

Maybe that was why she tried to deny that he was an Alpha. Maybe that was why she feared going to the bonfire in the state she was in, knowing he would be there.

What if he got pulled away from her again? What if he just rejected her like she had heard Alphas do before? The worry and fear grew inside her, an open pit she was on the edge of falling into.

Riley came and picked her up for the bonfire around eight. It was a perfect summer evening. The sun already starting to dip between the trees but the sky still a brilliant shade of blue. The air was just beginning to cool from sweltering hot to a more bearable temperature. Perfect for a bonfire out in the middle of someone’s back field.

“Ya woulda looked cute n’a dress s’all m’sayin’,” Riley commented as they pulled out of Tessa’s driveway and out onto the main road. 

Tessa looked down at her old pair of jeans and quarter zip. Something comfortable when she felt distinctly uncomfortable was at least sort of helpful. She wasn’t about to wear a dress to a bonfire, something she would never do normally, just because she was looking to get laid. Or claimed? Or fucked? Or…Something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on?

“N’freeze my ass off? No thank you,” she replied lightly with a smile.

Riley gave her a sidelong glance, curiosity bubbling in her deep brown eyes. “So…How ya feelin’?”

“I — I really can’t tell,” she sighed, “I mostly feel nervous. But I can’tell if m’just doin’ that thing where y’give y’rself symptoms? Like I expect ‘em t’be there so there they are?”

“Like what?”

“Like my tits hurt.” Riley laughed and she had to shut her up with a playful smack to the arm. “M’bein’ serious! They’re sensitive!”

“What, like y’re pregnant?” Riley chuckled again.

“No, not like that.”

But the thought, the thought of being pregnant and filled, brought one screaming idea to the forefront: empty. An unconscious hand moved to rest over her stomach. Just like when she got her first heat back in eleventh grade. With a deep breath, she shoved it down deep inside herself. Smashed it up into a box and locked it up tight.

She wasn’t going into heat. She wasn’t going into heat. She wasn’t going into heat. It was just one missed suppressant dose. Surely it couldn’t do that much damage.

“You do smell different,” Riley commented.

Tessa looked over at her with furrowed brows. “How can y’tell?”

“I may be jus’a Beta but I can still smell the…You coming off ya. S’kinda strong.”

“Doesn’t smell bad, does it?”

“No! S’like uh — like — this’s gonna sound weird, don’judge me — like early mornings and honeysuckle,” Riley said with a chuckle.

“That’s…Oddly specific.” 

“You asked!”

The bonfire was at Olivia Barlow’s family ranch, out in their south pasture. A small thing that made quality, pricey beef that got shipped all over the country. And there were at least twenty other cars there by the time Riley and Tessa pulled in. 

Probably more people than Olivia told her parents would be there. But it wasn’t like they were going to know or mind. They were miles away from the house and they were all adults. Or at least pretended like they were during business hours. Now though, now it was like they were all back in high school. Passing around coolers and kegs of beer and dancing to country music blaring from someone’s sound system in their truck. A classic Wabang bonfire if Tessa ever saw one.

By the time Riley and Tessa joined their other friends closer to the massive fire with grey smoke billowing up into the darkening sky, they already had chilled drinks pressed into their hands. And Tessa had nearly forgotten about her suppressants and her heat and the soreness in her breasts.

And the beginning aching feeling between her legs. 

That was, until Rhett joined their group. Grinned at her all shy and small and gave her another drink because he saw hers was empty. Stood close to her side as he listened to the long time friends chat and laughing when he would catch Tessa’s eye. Until, somehow, it was just the two of them. Standing by the fire and talking about games he had been playing recently and shows she liked. About their days on the high school rodeo team and memories they didn’t even realize they shared. 

It astounded her how easy it was to talk to Rhett. How naturally their conversations flowed and how normal it felt to stand so close to him. To feel the heat coming off of him and feel his breath, like cheap beer and chewing tobacco, against her face. And she didn’t even mind it. She felt safe and cared for and thought of when she was with Rhett. And she couldn’t help the yearning and longing and love that welled up inside her as she looked up into his deep blue eyes illuminated by the fire’s glow — half shadowed by the bill of his trucker-cap.

“You smell nice,” he suddenly muttered, voice deep and graveled as he flashed her a small smile.

A heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Thanks.” 

“S’like honeysuckle,” he went on, narrowed his eyes at her slightly. “S’it new?”

“N-No. M’not — M’not even wearin’ anythin’.” 

Rhett grunted at that, those cobalt eyes flicking down then up again as he looked at her. As he took a step closer. “I’member that smell.”

Leather and wet earth. The scent of it filled her lungs and made her breathe clearly for what felt like the first time in years.

The heat spread everywhere. Like she was standing in the fire and didn’t care if she burned. Her mind became blissfully blank as she stared up at him. As a flood of arousal soaked her panties. And she watched, unable to move in fear of breaking the spell, as Rhett’s eyes darkened. Like he could sense it. His hand reached for her and she stepped just that little bit closer.

“Holy shit! Tess Abernathy’s about to put out ladies n’gentlemen!” A loud, boisterous voice exclaimed as an arm was thrown around Tessa’s shoulders.

And the spell was broken.

Rhett snapped his head up to look at who was now hanging all over her. Eyes darkened by something else now. She knew who it was. She didn’t have to look over to know.

“Fuck off, Trevor,” Rhett hissed.

“Oh, come on now, Abbott. Jus’a little fun,” Trevor replied, squeezing Tessa in closer to his side. “Isn’t that right, little Omega?”

Tessa felt tears sting the backs of her eyes as she looked around. Everyone was trying to just stick to their own conversations, but she could tell they were looking over. Glancing and whispering and talking. It was like the fire was inside her very chest. She tried to pull away from Trevor but he just pulled her in tighter. Arm nearly curled around her neck.

And she couldn’t help but feel some shame when Rhett glanced at her when he said the word Omega.

“What? You didn’know?” Trevor laughed, “Big Alpha like yourself an’you can’t just smell it on her? She fucking reeks. Practically screamin’ f’r someone t’breed her.”

Ashes and deer hide — Trevor’s scent that always made her feel nauseous. 

With his arm around her neck, Rhett looking at her like that, and Trevor’s scent choking her lungs — she felt like she couldn’t breathe. Could feel a cramp beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. The world turning hazy as her thoughts blurred and blended together. She just needed to get away. Needed to find some place alone and secluded so she could try to breathe and maybe get ahold of Riley to take her home.

She managed to slip out from under Trevor as Rhett charged forward. Poking a finger into his chest and grumbling out something about just shutting his mouth and leaving her alone.

The cramp, powerful and immobilizing, finally overcame her as she stumbled away from the two of them. Into the small patch of trees in the Barlow’s south pasture, just outside the edge of the bonfire’s circumference. The sounds of the party faded into background noise as she tumbled past the thicket line. Where a larger tree stood just beyond that she found purchase against. 

The rough bark was grounding against her palms. Brought her back to her body and what needed to be done. She felt like she was boiling. Between her legs felt slick and swollen, desperate for attention. Her heart beat rapidly inside her chest and even she knew, from the way eyes followed her as she stalked away, that people knew. They knew she was an Omega about to start her heat.

And she was doomed.

Turning, she leaned back against the thick trunk and took in a deep, shaking breath. She wasn’t in a full heat yet. But she was just on the precipice. Anything could set her off. She needed to get home and fast. Hopefully, if she took her suppressant and just laid down for the night the symptoms would subside. If only her hands would stop shaking enough to pull her phone out of her pocket. 

“There you are, little Omega,” Trevor called out quietly, followed by the breaking of branches. 

Her head snapped up to see him walking slowly towards her. Devilish smile on his face as he flicked his blond hair out of his eyes. He was wearing some ridiculous “Western” purple button up with a shining belt buckle he had not earned. Another cramp ripped through her abdomen as his scent filled her nostrils.

“No,” she managed to mutter out as she pointed weakly back at the party.

“No? You can’t be serious right now. You need me,” he replied, still continuing closer. 

And all she could do was try to back herself further up against the trunk. Praying by some miracle the bark would open up and swallow her whole. The closer he got, the heavier it felt she was becoming. She sagged against the tree. Her mind fogged of nothing but empty and Alpha. Trevor could fill her. Trevor was an Alpha. 

“Y’re about t’go into heat, aren’t you?” Trevor questioned, so close now all she could smell was him, could feel his breath on her face. “Need me t’knot you up n’knock you up, don’t you? Let me be your Alpha, baby.”

Yes. “No.”

The single word came out slurred, slow and heavy on her tongue. Trevor just chuckled and pulled in close. Put one hand on her waist as he leaned down, mouth brushing over that swollen gland in her neck that made her shudder. Suddenly, she was taken back to when the two of them were like this before. When he got tired of asking and nearly bit into her mating gland. Nearly forced her to be with him for the rest of her life — against her will. She had screamed then and she opened her mouth to do it again. But it was like her muscles wouldn’t quite work. The sound wouldn’t quite come up and out of her throat. All she could manage was some broken squeak as she pushed weakly at his chest.

“Don’fight it, you know you want it.” 

She did want it. She wanted to be filled and touched and knotted and just full for once in her life. But she didn’t want it from Trevor Tillerson. She tried to scream again but still, nothing came out besides another garbled no that Trevor didn’t heed and a few tears. 

Then suddenly, Trevor was yanked away from her. Leaving her cold and barely able to hold herself up as her knees buckled, her back slipping down the rough bark.

Leather and wet earth. Rhett.

She looked up just in time to see Rhett push Trevor away, the two of them chest to chest as Rhett backed him away from her. 

“You touch her again n’I’m gonna put you in the fucking ground,” Rhett seethed as he stared Trevor down.

A gush of arousal soaked her panties as she whimpered, hand gripping her stomach as another cramp hit her at full force. She was panting and doubled over and clawing at the tree to try and stabalize herself. But it was no use.

Rhett looked over his shoulder at her, eyebrows furrowed in concern. His nostrils flared as his eyes darkened beneath his cap, something like understanding taking over his features.

And Trevor laughed. “You can smell it now can’t ya? That little Omega’s in heat n’somebody needs t’claim her before the Jenkins brothers get over here and tear her limb from limb. N’she’s mine. Always has been, always will be.” 

Turning back to look at him with eyebrows pulled low and a curl in his lip, Rhett practically snarled before he pulled back his fist and got Trevor with his knuckles square in the jaw. Trevor retaliated with a growl, tackling Rhett in the chest. But Rhett didn’t go down, he only stumbled back a few steps, and another few when Trevor’s fist connected with his side. But with another shove and another punch to the face, Trevor was flat on his back, staring up at the stars with a groan.

Rhett turned to Tessa immediately.

She was still leaning back against the trunk of the tree, chest heaving as she clutched at her stomach. She could barely think, thoughts all consumed by the slick between her legs and the empty feeling in her chest, but someone was coming. Probably Cash and Trip, maybe even Walker, lured in by the scent of her heat. Her heat that had been set off completely, brought on by an Alpha defending her.

Rhett Abbott defended her. Protected her. He was so good. A good Alpha. He would treat her well. He would make everything better, just like she always knew he would. He would make everything alright…

“Tess, you okay?” Rhett asked quietly.

She didn’t even realize he had moved from standing over Trevor. Not until one of his big hands cupped her cheek and forced her to look up into his face. His expression crumbled at the sight. A soft groan slipped past his lips. No doubt her face was flushed. Her eyes half-lidded and pupils blown to consume all of their usual blue. He squeezed her cheek just a little harder, drew in just a fraction closer. 

“Fuck, sunshine…” he whispered under his breath.

Her hands, against her own will, shot out to him. Took hold of his waist and tried to pull him in closer. Get him inside her skin. Alpha, who would make everything good.

“Please,” she heard herself say, but did not realize her mouth had opened. “Hurts.”

Rhett groaned again, ripped off his hat so he could press his forehead against her own. “I know, I know. You got…Got any’a that medicine with ya?”

“N-No, I didn’t think…” Her throat swelled with tears before she could finish, tears blurring her vision as she let out the smallest sob.

She didn’t think this would happen. She didn’t want this to happen. If she could, she would slap herself for agreeing to this scheme. Just to get laid. Another sob slipped out of her as Rhett shushed her. 

Her stomach cramped again and she fell forward into his chest. He caught her with ease, unintentionally putting one thigh between her spread legs to help keep her upright. A whimper escaped her at the sudden contact, her hips wriggling against all logical thought to get more friction. To just make the pain stop. 

“Fuck, this isn’t how I wanted t’do this,” Rhett muttered as his hands fell to her hips.

No, no, no, no, he doesn’t want me, she thought. And it took all of her remaining will power to stop her minute movements, a whine punching out of her as she looked back into his face. “M’sorry, m’sorry —”

A twig snapped somewhere to the west, from the direction of the party, and Rhett hunched over her further. Nearly curled around her as he pressed a hand into the tree bark and leaned in close to that swollen gland in her neck. From his behavior, other Alphas and Betas were coming. Drawn in by her scent or just curious as to what the commotion was all about. Either way, she didn’t want to be seen like this. In the middle of a heat, in the middle of nowhere, with an Alpha she was sure was about to reject her.

“M’not gonna bite ya, promise,” he whispered, before tilting his head, presenting the side of his own strong neck to her. “Just gon’mark ya. Let everyone know to fuck off.” 

In a moment, she was overwhelmed by his scent. It filled her lungs, her pores, her very soul. He scent marked her. Let the world know she was his and his only. At least for the night. Rhett growled as he shoved in closer to her, head turning to sink his teeth into the hinge of her jaw. A tiny scrap of his canines that left her moaning. Alpha Alpha Alpha. It made her head spin and her knees fail her once more. Her hips dropped even harder onto his thigh, and she moaned as he guided her to move against him. Not tentative and trying to be impreceptible, but purposeful rolls against his jean clad leg. It was like ice on burns as she threw her head back and gripped tightly at his shirt. 

“Wanted this t’be your choice,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“W-What?” she asked, some clarity returning to her as the ache was eased between her legs.

“Tess, I’ve been thinkin’ about you n’y’r heat �� n’y’r smell’ve honeysuckle n’early morning air since I’s seventeen,” he gruffed out, lips pressed to her temple. “You…I think y’were always meant t’be my Omega n’I just — after meetin’ you again — fuck, I wanted t’take it slow.”

In response, she whined wantonly, openly. High in her throat with her head thrown back and hips working even faster against his leg. He wants me, he wants me, he wants me.

“Y-Your Omega,” she stuttered out with a breathless smile.

Rhett grinned back at her, nudged his nose with her own. “Yeah. Mine.”

More rustling from the west. And Rhett snapped his head up to look at who was intruding on them. Teeth practically bared as he blocked her from view. Tessa ducked in close to his chest, trying to hide. Her hips stopped moving on instinct. Embarrassment and thoughts of her Alpha protecting her flooding her veins.

“Fuck off,” he growled to whoever it was.

“Shit, Abbott got here first,” the distinct voice of a Jenkins brother said, most likely to the other.

“S’not too late, y’could just pass’er off when y’re done with her. Let us have a turn,” the other Jenkins said, “She smelled real fuckin’ pretty before you covered it up.”

“I said fuck off, she’s mine,” Rhett repeated on a bark, voice echoing through the trees.

“Alright, alright, okay. We’ll back off.”

Rhett turned his attention back to her, hand tilting her face up to look at him again with the softest expression she didn’t think he was capable of. Eyes big and blue as the near nightime sky. A piece of hair he now kept long dangled in front of his face. She wanted to push it back, knowing he didn’t like it in his eyes. But her limbs wouldn’t cooperate. She could barely lift her arm from his waist before it fell against his chest.

“We need t’get you outta here,” he whispered, calloused fingers slipping down to massage gently into her swollen gland. “Somewhere safe.” 

“Home?” she mumbled back.

“I don’know if y’re gonna be able t’make it all the way home, sunshine. We could go t’my place? S’close — five minutes. If y’re okay wi’that.”

His place. Surrounded by his smell and his things and him. Tessa was nodding before she knew she even had an answer. And Rhett smiled as he pressed his lips to her burning forehead. Then he scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothing, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and he carried her away.

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[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

He asked her to submit and she (more or less) agreed, completely unaware of what really awaits her. Now he just has to help her say goodbye to her old life, in the only way he knows...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use/power play. Vaginal sex. Humiliation/Objectification if you squint. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 6.5k

A/N: Welcome to SEASON TWO! Here's what happened...

P R E V I O U S L Y

Once there was a girl, 19 years young, cute and innocent, but mature enough to have one wish: to hook up with a man she'd seen only from afar. His confident and dominant aura had mesmerized her as she'd first laid eyes on him through the crowd on the dance floor of his club, how he'd lounged at the bar, eyes scanning the people dancing and drinking, and one day, their gazes had met.

But he had just watched, and it was her who approached him first. So you could say, whatever happened next might have been her fault. Her own naive little dream come true, though in her innocence she had not been prepared for what he had planned for her. What he saw in her. She'd wanted a hook-up, maybe something to dream about when the loneliness of her life came crashing down on her again, a fond memory, but it wasn't just a hook-up for him. It was more, so much more.

Because she was perfect.

The perfect submissive. Someone he could lead through life, take by the hand, take over the back of the couch, take to heights she had never even dreamed about. And oh how he showed her...

She woke up in his bedroom after he'd taken her away, coerced by a little drink, a little help, erasing that particularly memory of how she got there forever. It didn't matter. She was with him now. And she was meant to stay, even if she didn't know that yet. He was a goner as soon as she asked him to take her virginity. What an opportunity. Taking all her firsts. Served on a silver platter, just for him.

In her innocence, she expected him to be gentle and stick to his words, make her a real woman, because that was what happened when your virginity was taken, right? Oh how naive she'd been. Of course he took it, but before that he made her choke on his cock, taught her how to suck him off properly, made her more familiar with the very thing that would assault all her holes eventually.

And he didn't stop there. Butt plugs, dildos, vibrating eggs, he tested it all on her, and strangely enough, she let him. Was it submission, fear or curiosity? Who knows. There were moments where she did protest, showed a little bit of defiance, questioned him, but it only ended in him forcing his cock up her ass. A punishment she soon learned could also be a reward. It was all confusing to her, but she always came back to the same conclusion: she made this happen, she came to him, she asked him to pound the virgin right out of her, so to speak (not that she would ever use those exact words).

And he did, pounded, rammed, hammered, pistoned, slammed, stabbed, deep and hard and fast, until her head would shut down and a blissful emptiness took over. And it was that feeling that made her stay, not that she even tried to get away. Why would she? He was handsome, rich, experienced, the perfect match, right?

And despite all the vile things he did to her, she was yearning for the moments afterwards, the gentle touches, the strong grip of his arms, the pain-easing embraces. And the praises. The good girls and well dones, the proud smiles on his lips, the approving nods. She came to a point where she'd let him do anything just to be called a good girl. It was as disturbing as it was easy. It would excuse everything.

The fucking her in her sleep, the bullying of bruises he'd pummeled into her before, over and over again, in every position imaginable, at least for her, because he clearly had more ideas in mind, wherever and whenever he wanted, he would take her. He'd let her cockwarm him while he would work in his office, and she'd sit on her knees between his legs for hours, suckling on his cock, delving into the head-empty-state with pleasure. She'd be confused when he'd reward her with a deep anal pounding afterwards, but she'd take it nonetheless.

It was her purpose. She was his to use. A body with holes to fill. A toy to play with. A doll to move about as he saw fit. And she grew into her role, more with every passing hour. And those 48 hours, that single weekend, was packed with new experiences, new sensations, as he explored her durability, what she was capable of, how much she could endure. And she surprised him. She'd be sore, of course, but she wouldn't whine, not too much anyway, and he could just continue.

A perfect match.

And it led him to make a decision he would not regret: to keep her. To make her his completely. And so, on a dreary Monday morning, he took her back, to her old life, causing her to think he would really get rid of her after all, but then everything would change. He told her of his plan to keep her, told her that he'd terminated her apartment lease, resigned her from her badly-paying job. And he even asked her, despite doing all this behind her back, asked her to submit.

And in the end, she couldn't make that decision, she needed him to make it for her. She asked him to give her an order, and of course he did, and she did as he told her: she submitted, gave her life into his hands. Became his.

But that's not where the story ends. There is more on the horizon for the two strangers that met each other on a whim, whose lives entwined by chance. Who found each other compatible on multiple levels. When bodies and souls merge, stronger feelings arise. And a little infatuation can turn into something else. Maybe it's love, or maybe it's a deep, dark obsession...

TEN 🟥 ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE

He is honestly very surprised how well she took it. No apartment. No job. Dependent on him and him alone. Her old life taken from her just like that. And she wants it. There's no denying the look in her eyes as she knelt in front of him, asking him to give her an order. So submissive, so innocent in her own needs. Almost a little too easy, but still perfect.

He leads her into her bedroom, frowning at the décor. A small bed covered in colorful quilts and blankets and pillows in every shape imaginable. There's even a stuffed animal on it. A tattered looking wolf. He raises his eyebrow at the sight, a smirk dancing on his lips. As if this was meant to be. The image of a little girl cuddling the wolf to her chest, seeking comfort in the presence of a predator, makes his stomach tense up. He knows he'll be that wolf for her, giving her comfort as well as the unpredictability of a monster led by its natural urges to dominate.

She moves timidly through her (former) own space, shoulders sagged a little as her eyes move over various surfaces. He leans against the door frame, watching her, before his gaze wanders over the fairy lights on the wall and the bright curtains and the random assortment of trinkets on a dresser ranging from snow globes to plastic figurines to other dust collecting clutter. There are pictures above her bed, polaroids, mostly of landscape or architecture, not many people.

Walking towards a small bookcase in the corner, she runs her fingers over the spines of old looking books, but in the end moves away again and opens the door to her closet. A tiny space, filled with colorful clothes. There she bends down and picks up a backpack before she starts stuffing it with randomly picked things. He's not sure if he'll let her wear her old clothing, but he's asked her to pack stuff she may need, and maybe those old rags give her comfort, remind her of something. He allows it, for now.

She flinches when he steps behind her, his hand moving through the sparsely filled space, running over the soft fabrics hanging from the rail. He picks up a pastel pink colored dress, with little white flowers adorning the skirt portion, a thin belt cinching it up in the waist, a high rounded neckline keeping it very modest.

“Wear this,” he tells her quietly, and she looks up at him, biting her lip, but ultimately nods.

She hesitates then, unsure if he wants her to strip right away, so he takes that decision from her by putting his hands on her shoulders, slowly guiding her towards the bed. He puts the dress over the back of a chair next to the small desk, his eyes curtly grazing over the cluttered space filled with notepads and pencils and a box filled with tiny beads. He couldn't even name all the hobbies she's assembled on the tiny surface. But it tells him she is in dire need of having the clutter in her life (that's also in her head) re-organized, stripped down to the bare minimum, taken completely.

“Bend over the foot of the bed,” he says nonchalantly. Her breathing gets a little harder as she approaches her small bed, slowly leaning over the wooden frame, the boards creaking when she puts her weight on them. She folds her body over until her chest is pressed into the soft covers, elbows digging into the colorful quilt, hands clutching at the fabric, head turned to watch him out of the corner of her eye, ass raised, legs shaking slightly.

He steps behind her, gently pushing up her skirt, hands gliding over her curves, making her skin pebble beneath his touch. His fingers hook into the waistband of her panties, slowly drag them down until they pool around her ankles where he leaves them, keeping her from spreading her legs too much. He presses a few kisses up the backs of her thighs, hands sliding up and down her legs before he straightens up fully again, one hand on her lower back, the other unbuckling his belt.

His cock is already hard when it springs free from its confines, and he grabs it, gives it a few hard pumps, watching the girl in front of him as she shivers, forcing herself to remain calm while she waits for him to use her. A quick swipe through her folds tells him she's ready, or at least getting ready. Coating himself with her wetness, smirking at the way her back twitches when he drags his cock along her slit, he doesn't wait any longer.

Pushing into her with small rolls of his hips, he digs his fingers into the fabric of her bunched-up skirt, holding her in place when she starts squirming against him. Inch by inch he sinks deeper, forcing through the resistance, ignoring her tiny wails, while his heart is beating harder in his chest, his stomach already tense, the sight of her in her childish bed making him feel like an even bigger monster.

A growl escapes him, and he pulls her hips against him as he sinks the rest of his cock into her tight warmth with a harsh snap of his pelvis. She whimpers, burying her face in the blankets, thighs twitching. His hands move up her curved back, fingers curling around her shoulders, gripping her, anchoring her as he starts drawing back slowly only to push in with a force that makes her squeal. He's going deep, slow and steady, repeating the same motion over and over again, precise thrusts of his hips against her cushioned rear.

She cries out every time he slams into her cervix, body arching, hands white-knuckling the sheets, her legs kicking helplessly. Her walls clench around him, either fighting the intruder or sucking him in deeper. The same struggle is in the girl before him as she bucks her hips back, straining her shoulders under his tight grip, squirming or moving along with him. He can't tell. He doesn't care either way. He only picks up the pace.

Her legs slam rhythmically into the wooden boards of the bed, strangled noises escaping her, every plunge accompanied by the soundscape of skin slapping against skin and that traitorous squelching of her wet cunt getting to terms with his intrusion. Her whines turn into moans while he keeps pounding into her harder and faster, in and out, back and forth, until his own breathing gets rougher.

He takes one hand from her shoulders and slips it beneath her, fingers brushing over her fluttering stomach until they find her throbbing clit. She squeaks when he touches it, arching her back, body contorting as more uncontrollable spasms crash through her. She comes with a wail, pussy clamping around him hard enough for him to fight the onslaught of sensations, the need to come as well, but he keeps rubbing her nub while holding his steady rhythm of hammering into her, letting her ride that high for as long as possible.

His grunts fill the small space, her mewls are muffled, hands clutching at the blankets, head thrashing. Leaving her clit to press his hand to her belly, he moves his other hand around her neck and grips her throat, making her cry out as he lifts her up and against him, holding her tightly as he continues to ram into her, his stomach tight, his balls ready to burst. Limp fingers try to grip at his wrist as he squeezes her, her noises turning into soundless, breathless gasps as she struggles in his hold.

He wraps his other arm around her middle, lifting her up a little more, his cock pistoning in and out rapidly. The slapping sounds add to the squeaking of the bed, a cacophony of noises that drive him mad with need. Growling into her ear, he moves his hand back down between her legs, rubbing hard at that sensitive bundle of nerves, making her writhe and twitch, pathetic little gasps falling from her parted lips.

“Come for me,” he grunts, head spinning, heart racing, the tension building up into an ache he can't get enough of. “Come on my cock!”

She's shuddering, head thrashing into his shoulder, eyes rolling back, mouth wide open as she succumbs to the sensations. He feels her cunt clamping down on him as her orgasmic contractions crash through her tiny frame once more. He eases the grip on her throat, wraps his arm around her chest instead. Her soft little whimpers, that constant string of high-pitched little “Ah!”s, cloud up his mind, drive him right over the edge.

He groans and grunts and growls before he gives her that final hard thrust, burying himself as deep as possible inside her tight warmth, while the tension explodes within him, balls pumping, stomach tensing, as he empties himself inside her, painting her walls with his hot seed. She's limp in his embrace, hard breaths mixed with small whines, arms and legs boneless. He savors her warmth, that wetness coating his skin, the little shudders making his cock twitch as her tight cunt keeps milking him for all he's worth.

Slowly he lets go of her, drapes her back over the foot of the bed, carefully pulls out of her before he watches his spend dripping from her clenching hole. Then he bends down and pulls up her panties, trapping his cum, feeling it gathering in the fabric, warm and wet as he cups her mound. After putting himself away again, not even caring about their combined juices seeping into his underwear, he flips her skirt back down, makes her stand, then turns her and leans her against the wall, his hands cupping her face as he takes her in.

“You look so beautiful when you're all fucked out and boneless, you know that?” he whispers with a dark smirk, leaning closer to brush his nose against hers. She looks at him out of hooded eyes, cheeks flushed, lips still parted and trembling, a little bit of drool gathering in the corner. “Head empty, hm?”

She nods into his hands, her lips twitching into a shy smile. He closes the distance and captures them for a soft kiss, holding her against him until he feels her small hands fisting at the back of his jacket. He picks her up easily, still glued to her mouth, tongue lazily sliding against hers, as he carries her to the side of the bed and sits down, arranging her on his lap with his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Leaning into him, she moves her mouth against his, slowly gaining in confidence, her fingers sliding up his back, gripping at his shoulders, teasing at his nape. Her warm crotch presses into his leg, and he is tempted to give her another load, but then refrains, inhaling deeply, turning his head slightly. Her lips slip along his jaw and down his neck before she rests her cheek on his shoulder, breathing hard.

“Thank you,” she whispers barely audible, and he rubs her side in response, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

They sit like that for another moment, and he has to admit, it's growing on him to just have her in his arms, holding her, feeling her small body move against him when she breathes deeply, her warmth is a comfort he didn't know he needed. But the beast inside him isn't entirely convinced yet. She may be pliant now, but he's seen the defiance in her eyes. He shouldn't go easy on her too soon.

Exhaling loudly, he grabs her shoulders, startling her out of her stupor when he puts her on her feet, her legs still trembling as she stares at him with wide eyes. He tilts his head towards the desk chair, waiting for her to follow the motion. Her head turns slowly, a tiny nod jerking her chin as she sees the sundress he wants her to wear.

“Strip,” he tells her, leaning back on the bed on one arm, the other hand resting heavy on his thigh as he watches her intently.

She licks her lips, swallows, her chest rising when she inhales deeply, then she moves her hands back and fidgets with the zipper of her skirt. Her eyes wander over his face, too timid to hold his gaze properly, her cheeks splotched in many different shades of red. Putting her hands on her waist, she shimmies the skirt down her hips, bends lower, back stiff and quite uncoordinated, trying to keep looking at him before she tilts her head and steps out of it a little clumsily, swaying dangerously.

His hand shoots out to steady her, and she flinches, looking at him before biting her lip. He can't help the amused twitch of his lips. She blushes even more, quickly straightening up again while he retrieves his hand. Taking a shuddering breath, she crosses her arms and grabs the lower hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it up and over her head before letting it fall to the skirt lying next to her feet.

Now she's standing in front of him in her soiled panties and her worn down sneakers, slim arms and legs, tiny tits, a narrow waist with the hint of a curve to her hips, not typically a tremendously sexy sight for him, but she's trying, he knows it, trying to impress him. He keeps watching her, not issuing any noise of either judgment or confirmation. She's hesitant when she turns to the dress on the chair, her chest moving, her small breasts shivering, nipples hardening the longer they're exposed to the stale air of the room.

As soon as her hand closes around the rose colored fabric, he stands up, startling her when he steps behind her, towering over her. Taking the dress from her, he nudges her to turn around, and when she looks up at him, chewing on her already swollen lips, he tilts his head. “Arms up,” he says quietly, and she does as she is told. He slips the dress over her head and flattens it along her body, then pulls her hair free before his hands rest on her shoulders.

Cute. Is one word that comes to mind. Beautiful another. He raises a hand and tucks a strand of silky hair behind her ear, watching the blush spreading down her neck to her exposed arms. The sleeves fray out a little over her deltoid, accentuating her slim shoulders. He runs his hand down along her arm, hooking it around her elbow, pulling her closer to him.

Her big eyes look up at him, and he watches her, fighting the urges crawling back to the surface (and the blood back into his cock). Exhaling loudly, his breath making loose hairs around her face fly, he clenches his jaw and lets go of her, steps back. “Alright, finish packing. I'll wait out there,” he says and turns around, leaving the tiny space that is her childish little bedroom. Before he leaves, his eyes fall onto the wolf plushie.

Shaking his head with a dark smirk, he keeps walking and settles on the couch in her living room slash kitchen, listening to her rummaging through her drawers and dressers while scrolling through his emails on his phone.

Her shuffling footsteps make him look up. She's holding the straps of the backpack that seems to burst at the seams with how full she's packed it. Her eyes are lowered, a nervous twitch to her lips before she starts chewing on the bottom one. “I'm done,” she whispers.

He stands up and walks towards her, grabbing the backpack from her small hand before flinging it over his shoulder. “And this is all?”

“It's all that fit,” she admits, still biting her lip. He moves his free hand to her face, rubbing his thumb over her lip and pulling it from between her teeth with a firm press. She looks up at him, her eyes a little watery.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. My people will grab the rest. I won't dispose of anything,” he tells her quietly. “Well, except for that couch, which is just awful.” The comment makes her lips quirk up, and he smiles at her in return.

“Thank you,” she whispers, genuine gratitude swimming in her big eyes. He caresses her cheek, holding her face, before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

It's almost too easy how this all worked out. She is so submissive, eager to please, eager to follow him wherever he drags her. He just ripped her from her old life, abducted, used, forced into her new reality, and she still thanks him for it. What a beautiful little creature. Simply perfect.

He shifts the strap of the backpack on his shoulder and grabs her face with both hands, bending over her as he tilts her chin up. For a moment he just looks at her, takes her in, every inch of her soft face, noticing the twinkle in her eyes, the blush on her cheeks, the warmth under his palms, the slight tremble to her lips.

Inhaling deeply, he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against hers. “I wish I could pay this place the proper respect by bending you over every surface there is, oh trust me, I'd imagined it while I was waiting, throwing you on that awful couch, splaying you out on the counter, I'd even take you on that horrendous rug down there, but I'm afraid we don't have time...” he closes with a sigh.

She shivers, her breath hitching, and when he looks at her, leaning back a little, her face is fully flushed and her lips parted. He smirks at her.

“Did you think about it too?” he whispers, his breath fanning over her face. “Never had a boy over, right?” She nods into his hands, averting her eyes. “So all these surfaces have never been used like that?” He sighs again. “So tempting,” he whispers, licking his lips.

He lowers his hands and lets them rest on her shoulders as he straightens up and looks around the small space, his mind reeling with images of them doing it wherever his eyes land. Sure, there's not a lot of options, the place is tiny and so are the surfaces, but he would have made it work. He'd even fuck her in that minuscule shower. There's a certain thrill to shoving his big body into tiny spaces, his cock certainly can relate – and it twitches dangerously as he remembers the tight grip of her beautifully small cunt.

Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head trying to rid himself of those tempting fantasies. They'll have time to fuck elsewhere later. Maybe he shouldn't prolong the moment of letting her say goodbye to her own little space too much. He looks back down at her, catching her watching him intently. It's rare to see her so curious, so eager in her own little wishes, and the way she looks at him, he can tell she's having the same thoughts he had.

A smirk plays around the corner of his lips, and he notices a deeper blush forcing itself onto her cheeks. “We should go,” he says then, tilting his head. “Are you ready?”

Her eyes move down, all eagerness and curiosity gone, as she nods timidly. His hand is back on her chin, pushing it up gently. “Last chance to tell me to fuck off,” he teases with a grin, challenging her. She looks up with a bit of shock in her big eyes.

“I... I would never do that,” she murmurs softly, blinking before looking away again. “I... I want this,” she then adds, and he watches her inhale deeply, squaring her shoulders. “I... I want to be... with you...” Her voice is that soft hum in the stale air around them, and it softens his heart – but thickens his cock.

He caresses her bottom lip, gently slipping his thumb into her mouth when she looks up at him. “My good girl,” he whispers fondly as he watches her close her lips around his digit, giving the slightest of sucks. Her eyes seem to glaze over, pupils dilating, and he just knows her mind is emptying as she focuses on him.

She needs this, needs him, and it's the best fucking feeling, he couldn't have asked for anything more (not that he would have actually asked because he doesn't ask for anything, but you get the picture). Her obedience, submission, her trust, it all gathers in his stomach, a pleasant heat that he can't get enough of.

God, he wants to fuck that cute little face so bad! He pulls his hand back with a groan, fighting the urges that make his fingers twitch before he curls them around her slim shoulder. His grip is tighter than intended, and she flinches slightly, a small gasp falling over her parted lips. “The power you have over me,” he says under his breath, clenching his jaw.

His eyes meet hers, and she seems confused, and she should be. Never before had a woman been able to get this deep under his skin. All his life, he had been the dominant one, using women for what they are: holes to fill, bodies to satisfy his urges with. Nothing more. He's kept the occasional submissive, or rather, slave, plaything, toy, but he had been growing bored with them so fast, it had been a little concerning.

But this girl, despite only knowing and having her for a weekend and a few hours, this tiny innocent girl seems to hit all the spots that make him absolutely crazy about her. He's never been this sure about anything in his life, and he's taken numerous risks before. He wouldn't be who he is now if there weren't risks involved, both in life and in business, and even though it seems to be a major risk to bind her to himself after only this short amount of time, he feels more than confident about it.

Because she is perfect. And she wants this.

Having her around 24/7 will be a new adventure, and he's looking forward to it. Oh he's already imagining it. Her little frame, preferably naked, possibly kneeling somewhere, waiting for him, ready to be used, and he only has to approach her to get her to service him... whenever he wants. The thought makes his cock strain against the confines of his pants.

To rid himself of the temptations, he steps back, grabs her hand and turns around, pulling her after him. He feels her stumbling slightly, surprised by the sudden movement, but she follows nonetheless. When they reach the door, he catches her looking back towards her old bedroom, it's only a few seconds, before she looks back at him, and he squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile that makes her blush instantly.

He meets one of his men in the hallway outside her apartment, and while she stares at the other man in slight shock, he only exchanges a nod with him and watches how the broad guy enters the tiny space. As they descend the many stairs, more of his people enter the apartment building, ready to rid it of any evidence of the girl he's dragging after him.

She seems a little hesitant, and he can't blame her, having strange men rummage through the stuff she used to call her own is not easy. But she shouldn't worry, he's planned this out better than he's planning most of his business deals. She'll be in for a surprise.

They reach his car, and there are two moving trucks parked on the small street. Her grip on his hand is tight as her eyes follow the line of workers vanishing into the building. He pulls her to the trunk, opens it with his free hand and puts her backpack into it. A strange sight, a battered old backpack, stuffed to the brim, in the spotless little space in the back of his car. But it isn't the most unusual sight it has seen.

For a moment he remembers stuffing other things, girls like her, into it, blindfolded, gagged, tied up to fit, scared out of their little minds, and he's glad it had been a different story with her. She came to him. She wanted this. And it's only fair to give her the best treatment he can think of, the best in his mind anyway. No matter the grip she has on him, this is still all about his pleasure, and luckily she knows it by now.

When he closes the lid of the trunk with a thud, she flinches, then meets his eyes. He cups her face with one hand, caressing her lips with his thumb, his eyes roaming over her soft features. She melts under his touch, a shy smile grazing her mouth, eyes warm and pliant, pupils dilating despite the bright light around them. He gives her a wink and watches the blush creep up her cheeks.

After he put her into the passenger seat and buckled her in (which she doesn't seem to get used to, as she watched him with wide eyes and trembling lips while he leaned over her), he slips behind the wheel, puts on his own seat belt and starts the engine with a roar that echoes through the quiet street.

She settles into the seat, small hands clasped together on her lap, that pastel pink dress he chose a stark contrast to the dark interior of his car. Once he pulls into the rows of traffic, his hand finds her thigh, and she stiffens before she relaxes as his long fingers curl around her soft leg, slipping between them, feeling her warmth. Imagining the stain his cum had left on the fabric of her panties.

He keeps having these images flicker through his mind, and the longer he drives through the crowded city, the harder he gets from just thinking about whatever he could do to his new plaything, the willing girl next to him. The possibilities are endless. As they stop in front of a red light, he slips his hand deeper between her thighs, fingers pushing firmly against her sex, and she squirms, but ultimately opens her legs a little, allowing him to tease the damp fabric of her underwear.

Pressing down hard, he quickly finds her clit, and she gasps, her legs twitch and threaten to clamp down around his hand, but he feels the effort she's putting into keeping them open. He looks at her, that little thing on his passenger seat, so small, flushed and aroused, red splotches dancing on her cheeks while her eyes are hooded as she worries her lip between her teeth. He keeps circling that sensitive bud that throbs under his touch, until he has to take his hand away to shift gears as the traffic light changes to green.

Her sigh mirrors his. He chuckles softly, while she looks away, her face even redder now. They keep driving in silence until he pulls into a parking garage below one of the stores he wanted to take her to. It's very quiet when he cuts the engine and turns to her. She is still chewing on her lip, and he reaches out to stop her as he notices how swollen they already are.

She looks at him, and her mouth opens slightly, an instinct as his thumb moves closer, but he pulls it away before she can suck on it again. So predictable, his little kitten. He smirks at her, admiring the small pout that crosses her features. Forcing himself to look away, he gets out of the car and walks around the hood to her side, opens the door and leans over her to unbuckle her seat belt. She hasn't even tried to do it herself, she's learning already.

When his face is in line with hers, he grabs her chin and presses his lips to hers for a quick kiss, holding her gaze. “You'll be a good girl for me, right?” he whispers, hovering close to her, waiting for her to react. She nods. “You'll do whatever I tell you?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathes against his lips, and he gives her another kiss in response. Leaning back with a smile, he then extends his hand. She grabs it instantly and lets him pull her out of the car. She's so tiny against him, it melts his heart, which in turn sends a strange heat lower down his body.

Squeezing her hand, he pulls her away with another sigh of frustration. As much as he wants to press her against his car and fuck her raw in this very parking garage, he knows he shouldn't and he won't. This fucking restraint. Instead he drags her towards the elevator and punches the button a little too hard while simultaneously trying not to break the girl's hand with how tight he's holding it.

She doesn't protest, though, just follows him, her old sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. He fights another image of railing her in the elevator, right under the surveillance camera, their reflections all around them, her face contorted in pleasure as he bounces her up and down on his thick cock while the small cubicle pushes its way up the building. A stifled groan slips from his throat as he closes his eyes to force the thought away, and it's the little squeeze of her hand that grounds him again. Inhaling deeply, he opens his eyes and looks down at her.

Seeing her soft expression, full of equal parts curiosity and anxiety, he just shoots her a strained smile and pulls her against his side, savoring her warmth, the little flutter of her breath as she leans into him. They stand in comfortable silence until the doors slide open with a ding, and he grabs her hand again and pulls her along gently, keeping her next to him until they reach an unassuming door.

He never walks into shops through the front door if he can help it, it's become a good habit, a necessary need sometimes. Rapping his knuckles gently against the slick surface, he waits, and only a few moments later, the door opens, and they are greeted by a smiling older woman with big hair and too much perfume. He nods at her and she bows her head as she welcomes them into the backroom of her store.

The girl pushes against him instinctively, timid and confused, searching his body heat, the safety of his hold, and he grants it to her, putting one arm around her slim shoulders as he guides her through the narrow hallways until they enter a carpeted room lined with mirrors and a shelf full of tailor equipment.

“What an adorable little thing,” the woman drawls in obviously fake enthusiasm as she closes the door behind them, shutting out the muffled chatter from the front of the shop where other clients rummage through the various clothing racks. “So how did you like the clothes I sent you? Was everything alright with them?”

He looks down at the girl who meets his gaze, a little frown between her brows. “They were perfect, but I'd like you to measure her properly. You got the list I made?”

“Of course, sir,” the seamstress replies in her borderline annoying sing-sang voice. If it wouldn't be for her discretion and their long history together, he couldn't stand spending another minute with her. “I'm glad you brought her, it's always easier to find the right things if I can get my hands on the object wearing them.”

Object. While he chuckles at the word, he sees the girl in his arm frowning deeply. But that's what she is, that's what they all were. Objects, toys, dolls he could dress and undress and do whatever he wanted to. He leads her to the little platform in the middle of the room, and she hesitates as she steps on it, her eyes widening slightly.

“Take off your dress, baby,” he tells her, cocking his head to the side. While she stares at him, his insides tense. The first real test. Will she obey without fussing? It's important to him to know that she will do what he tells her, especially in front of strangers. His hands slip along her arms, palms pressing into her skin, a demanding grip, as he stares down at her, eyes narrowed, and she takes a shuddering breath and nods, slowly reaching for the hem of the dress. He relaxes and lets go of her. “Good girl.”

He watches her as she slowly pulls the dress over her head, hands shaking, body stiff, breathing heavily, but she's focusing on him, trying to ignore the woman waiting behind them. He takes the dress from her and hands it back to the seamstress without looking at her, his eyes focused only on the naked torso in front of him. She's trying to cover herself, her arms squishing her small breasts together as her hands rest in front of her soiled panties, her thighs clamped together tightly, and there's panic in her eyes.

He's almost forgotten about his cum in her underwear, and a sigh escapes him. It doesn't matter to him, and certainly not to the woman waiting to do her job, but he feels the girl's discomfort, wants to tell her that he dragged girls in here in far worse conditions, but ultimately he just steps closer and grabs her hands, holds her wrists, looks at her intently. “It's okay, keep them on,” he says quietly. “No need to be ashamed.”

She swallows visibly and nods, biting her lip. He tilts his head, gaze fixed on her mouth, and she stops the nervous motion, moves her tongue between her lips before pressing them into a thin line. He lets go of her and nods in return, ignoring the curious gaze from the other woman as she steps around them, a flexible measuring tape in her hands. She must think he's lost it now, with how soft and gentle he treats the girl in front of him.

He's never been like this, so considerate, comforting, patient. He usually brought his toys here to be left with the tailor, not caring about their discomfort. They usually barely noticed where they were anyway, he'd make sure of it, so bringing her here, as pure as she is, so willing and eager, mind open enough to follow his commands without having been coerced (by drugs at least), it's a first for all parties involved.

Stepping away, he holds her gaze until he leans against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest, watching her as she comes to terms with her surroundings, or the woman starting to take her measurements. She's thorough and rough, grabs the girl's arms and lifts them as if she were indeed just a doll – that is until she flinches away and winces when the woman forces her legs apart, and he sees the restraint in the seamstress' motions, she's about to slap the poor girl for disobedience, but instead she turns to him.

“Tell her to stay still.”

He shoots the woman a dark glance, and she bows her head, but holds his gaze, determined to continue her job, no matter whose money is paying her to do so.

With a sigh, he looks at the girl behind her who freezes when she meets his eyes. He doesn't have to say anything, she issues a tiny nod and lowers her head, standing stock-still on the podium, letting the woman grab her limbs to measure them. Her face, however, is bright red, and she even clenches her hands into fists, fighting the urge to flinch time and time again, especially when the tailor slips the measuring tape around her thighs, dangerously close to where he can see the little wet stain in her panties.

He watches her, thinking back to the list he made. He isn't just ordering underwear for her, also dresses, cute and more elegant ones, but most importantly things the store doesn't sell in their front window display. Closing his eyes for a moment, he can already imagine her in the lacy sets, her small body covered in the intricate straps of the garter belts holding those soft stockings that will hug her legs, and that he can't wait to peel off her.

And then there are the harnesses, the cuffs, the belts, all kinds of restraints he wants to put on her to rid her of her last ounce of self-control. He wants her to lose it all, lose herself for him, give herself up to him and him alone. She'll love it, he's sure, eventually.

A sudden slapping sound breaks him from his daydreams of tying her to the bed, and his eyes fly open. The girl lets out a whimper, slouching her shoulders, while the woman stands in front of her with the measuring tape wrapped around her small bust, the rigid tape pressing hard into her nipples. There's a barely there red spot on the girl's cheek. He pushes off the wall and walks closer.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice low and with a dangerous edge to it. The seamstress stiffens.

“She kept moving about,” she explains, quickly finishing the measurement of the girl's chest to step away from him. “How am I supposed to get her exact measurements if she fights this so much?”

“She's not yours to slap,” he says darkly, his eyes moving along the naked body in front of him. The girl's chest rises and falls quicker, her head bowed, but her hands relax slightly.

“Yes, sir,” the woman replies quietly as she returns to wrap the tape around the girl's slim waist from behind her, her motions much more careful now. “I apologize...”

He hums in response, extending a hand to touch the blemished cheek. She meets his gaze, eyes big and full of concern, but they soften when he caresses her softly. “Keep still,” he reminds her quietly, and she nods into his hand. Pressing his thumb to her lips, she parts them, but he only smirks at her and gives her a wink as he pulls his hand away again, his cock stirring at the sight of her little pout.

Returning to lean against the wall, he keeps watching the scene, slowly slipping back into his fantasies, smiling to himself as he thinks about the girl clad in white lace, or black, or that soft pink that will fit her as well, and how he will then remove that fancy lingerie he's paying way too much for. He could strip her gently, let her wear a certain set again, or he could rip it off, cut it off, tear it away until she's bare in front of him. That'll depend on his mood.

TEN 🟥 ELEVEN 🟥 TWELVE

End notes: Welcome back to SEASON TWO of INFATUATED!

I wrote the following ten chapters down in about a week (like I did the first ten, actually), it'll get quite intense, but there will be more backstory as well, as hinted in this chapter already. Things will thicken, the plot included. I hope you are ready!

Thank you for coming back to read this depraved piece of fiction.

Next chapter on Sunday!

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@untamedheart81 @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

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CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN◾️TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN◾EIGHTEEN◾NINETEEN◾TWENTY

[whenmemorydies]

90s alternative rock, masculinity and The Bear

This post by @bbythurs got me thinking about The Bear's soundtrack, specifically its use of 90s alternative rock. Some thoughts below.

Chris Storer and I are very close in age, and going by the soundtrack choices for The Bear, grew up listening to very similar music. I came to grunge a few years after its heyday but when I did, I quickly became obsessed with these (mostly) white boys singing frankly about things like domestic violence, sexual assault, drug use, and mental health issues, and who seemed to revel in challenging traditional masculinity. Their hair was often long but usually not overly styled (or washed for that matter), they sometimes wore dresses, lipstick and eyeliner on stage (but were decidedly unglam about it), and they scribbled "PRO CHOICE" on their bare arms during prime time television performances (shout out to Eddie Vedder).

Kurt Cobain on the cover of The Face, September 1993.

Michael Stipe, who often played with gender in R.E.M.'s live shows, had also recently come out as queer (his words were, an "equal opportunity lech") during the promotional cycle for REM's Monster (the album featuring Sydcarmy's infamous "Strange Currencies"). Alternative rock in the 90s was full of folks who were challenging convention, including the necessity of traditional masculinity.

The irony is that so many of the people who listened to grunge were white guys who had no problem with traditional masculinity. These were the same guys who head-banged and dove in mosh pits to these songs but went home and beat on their partners, or perpetrated sexual assault while singing the lyrics to these songs. No one can control who consumes your art, even if some artists did try to (see Kurt Cobain's liner notes from Nirvana's Insecticide):

In contrast, it seems like Chris Storer (thankfully) got the correct memo.

Ever since watching the first episode of The Bear, it was clear to me that this show has plenty to say about masculinity: how its performed and weaponised (2x06 Fishes is a master class in depicting this on film), how its subverted (think: Emmanuel and Pete but also Marcus and Chester), how those who don't conform to traditional masculine archetypes - in even the most innocuous way, like being artistic - can be isolated and picked off, including by those who might love them the most (see: Carmy's treatment by many in his family), and how those who do perform traditional masculinity to a T, can still be decimated in its wake (see: alpha-male Mikey).

Hearing tracks like Pearl Jam's "Animal" and "Come Back", REM's "Strange Currencies" and "Oh My Heart", Radiohead's "Let Down", and Nine Inch Nail's "The Day The World Went Away" used in The Bear is incredibly nostalgic for those of us who grew up with these artists. Their inclusion in the soundtrack is also incredibly intentional (like everything to do with this show). This is the music that Mikey was likely listening to growing up and that Carmy would have heard his brother playing. This is also undoubtedly the music that Storer grew up listening to as well.

I love that in a show about a man who is coming into his own after years of toxicity and abuse - much of which was targeted at Carmy because of how he performed (or didn't perform) masculinity - that reference is being paid to this genre. And if it was the case that this was the music Mikey was listening to and, perhaps even playing for Carmy when they were kids, that Carmy would be able to go back and re-listen to these artists now and know, that despite Mikey's demons and his own relationship with masculinity, that his brother always loved Carm, just as he was.

Author's note:

Also if there is a temporary (because it has to be fucking temporary, you hear me lol) Sydcarmy break up/parting of ways, I'm gonna need Storer and Calo to soundtrack it with Pearl Jam's "Black" (the MTV Unplugged performance). I'll need Eddie Vedder growling/screaming "WE BELONG TOGETHER" over a close up of Carmy's distraught face as Syd walks away. I'm going to need to hear,

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life/I know you will be a star/In somebody else's sky/But why, why, why can't it be/Can't it be mine?,

over the end credits please.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Pretty P.A. Chapter 2

Summary: Y/N has been the personal assistant to the most influential and famous fashion modeling agency director in the industry for the past 13 years.  They’ve decided to retire, and are leaving the agency in the hands of their protege and former model, Bucky Barnes.  He seems plenty qualified, and Y/N is excited for a chance to work with him.  Change always takes time,  but the new insanely hot boss is distrustful and hesitant towards her.  **curvy reader** **Y/N/N = Your nickname ** Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (not from Bucky), some violence, blood, smut

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The next few weeks were filled with planning, redecorating, traveling and reworking within the agency.  What was now Bucky’s office was going through a major remodel after Tony moved out of it, and Y/N was following him around as he finished his last few modeling assignments and contracts.  She had inserted herself into his life as much as she could, getting to know his routine, his likes and dislikes, his family and their details, and all the things she had done that worked between her and Tony.  It didn’t come without challenges, though.  Bucky was always keeping her an arms length away personally, never fully opening up to her, and he seemed to struggle trusting her.  After another long shoot day, Bucky changed back into his comfortable clothes and headed over to Y/N who was typing furiously on her phone.

“Mr. Barnes,” she greeted him quickly and held out his water bottle to him.  He took it and drank a few big gulps before giving it back to her.  “The publicist said we’re done for the day.  Is there anywhere else you’d like to go before heading home?” she asked as she gathered her things together, slipping his drink into one of her bags.

“I’d like to stop at the office and see where they’re at with the remodel,” he said quickly.

“Of course.  The car is ready,” Y/N said politely.  She was ever the professional with Bucky.  He had made it very clear from the first day they worked together that he was not one for personal conversation.  He called her Miss Y/L/N, so she returned the favor and only called him by his last name.  He had given her an odd look when she did but didn’t press her on it.  She only asked him appropriate-for-work type of questions, and he did the same to her.  To the others in the office she regularly interacted with, she was her usual bright and bubbly self, being able to intersperse the professionalism with her friendships, then the second he walked in she would straighten her back and school her face to a more demure expression.

The car pulled up to the agency and he got out first and held the door for her.  Ever the gentleman, she thought.  She gave him a polite smile and led him into the building.  The elevator ride was silent, as it always was, and when it opened they found the office empty.  The construction workers and interior designers had left for the day.  Y/N led the way to his office and slowly opened the door.  It was nearly done.  The desk and chairs were on the floor in pieces, waiting to be assembled, but the paint, wallpaper, flooring, and basic styling pieces were all in place.

“How do you like it so far, Mr. Barnes?” Y/N asked as she slowly walked around the office, making mental notes about small things that needed cleaning or possible changes.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, so she turned back to him.  He was looking around with a small smile on his face.  “It looks great.  I’m excited for it to be done so we’re not moving around all day.”

Y/N nodded with a side smile.  “Any changes that you’d like to make?”

Bucky looked at her again, the smile slipping off his face.  “Just one.”  He walked closer to her, stopping about a foot away from her.  He met her gaze and his eyes narrowed.  “Why do you call me Mr. Barnes?”

Y/N blinked in surprise.  “I thought that’s what you wanted to be called.”

His head tilted.  “Why would you think that?”

She copied his head tilt.  “You called me Miss Y/L/N on the first day.  I assumed that was the kind of relationship you would like to establish with me.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, his smile lighting up his face again.  “It just feels very strange for you to be so open and friendly with everyone in the office but me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and her mouth slightly dropped.  “Oh…I’m sorry, I didn’t realize–”

“It’s fine,” Bucky laughed.  “That was my fault.  Can we start again?”

Y/N sighed and smiled wider.  “Yes.”  She held her hand out to him.  “Hi.  My name is Y/N.”

Bucky reached forward and shook her hand.  “Hi Y/N.  My name is Bucky.  And I like to be called Bucky.”

Y/N laughed and he seemed to brighten at that.  “I like to be called Y/N.  Though I’ve also been called “Pretty P.A.,” “Y/N/N,” or “that bitch at Olympus.””

Bucky’s brow furrowed.  “Who called you that last one?”

Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him.  “You’ll find out soon during next week’s meetings.”

Bucky grimaced.  “Am I going to have to be the big bad boss on somebody?”

Y/N shook her head.  “I can handle myself, Bucky.”

He looked unsure but nodded.  “We should probably review those meetings real quick.”

Y/N nodded and led him out of the office to her little desk area right outside.  She sat at her chair and Bucky sat on the reception waiting area couch, plopping his long legs up onto the cushion.  She opened her books and had her phone calendar open as she started reading off the meetings planned for the next week.

“Then Thursday there’s a two hour lunch blocked out for Hydra–”

“No,” Bucky’s voice scared her.  She looked up at him in alarm.  His eyes were piercing as he looked over at her, his lips set in a fine line and his nose flaring in anger.  “We will never do business with them again.”

Y/N was shocked but quickly recovered herself.  She looked back down at her book and made a note.  “I will cancel.”  

Bucky was stiff as he sat up straight on the couch.  He glared at the floor as he swallowed harshly.  “I’m guessing that’s who called you the bitch at Olympus?”

Y/N scoffed as she set down her pen and leaned back in her chair.  “How did you know?”

Bucky shook his head.  The anger on his face quickly turned to despair and he closed his eyes.  “Just had a feeling,” he whispered.

Y/N felt the shift in the energy of the room.  She slowly stood and walked over to the couch and sat next to him, but kept her distance.  She angled her body to face him.  “May I ask why you don’t want to work with them?”

Bucky was wringing his hands in front of him as the emotions on his face kept changing.  He kept his eyes closed.  “I’ve kept my distance with you, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”  Y/N didn’t answer.  “It hasn’t been because I don’t like you.  It’s because…do you remember booking me on a photoshoot eight years ago with Hydra?”

Y/N thought back.  “Vaguely, yes.  You were a few years in with us at that point.”

Bucky nodded and his jaw clenched.  “And do you remember how I suddenly quit after that?”  She nodded again.  “Alexander Pierce is…a piece of work,” he continued, breathing heavily in through his nose and out through his mouth, like he was fighting off a panic attack.  “His long-time photographer, Brock Rumlow, was having me do some strange poses.”  Y/N suddenly knew where this conversation was going and her hands tightened into fists, her own jaw clenching.  “I didn’t think much of it at first.  Some photographers have weird creative processes.  But then he made everyone leave so it was just me and him.  He started physically posing me, and next thing I knew his hand was down my pants.”  

Y/N inhaled deeply, her brow furrowing as her hands shook.  Bucky opened his eyes slowly and then looked at her.  “He touched me.  And I freaked.  Smashed his camera, screamed the whole way out.  By the time I made it back to Olympus I just couldn’t face what had happened.  I didn’t know how to tell Tony, who to talk to, what to do.  So I just quit and started being a free agent.”

Y/N’s eyes started to brim with tears out of frustration and sadness.  “I’m so sorry, Bucky.  Hydra has a reputation but if I had known I would have never sent you there.”

Bucky shook his head and turned toward her.  “It’s not your fault,” Bucky said and reached for her hands, helping smooth out her fists.  “It’s not anyone’s fault.  But you deserve to know, seeing as how you’ll have to communicate with them.  Olympus has always had contracts with Hydra, so I’m sure they won’t take the rejection well, losing a long term connection.  But I will not associate with them, or put any of our models in harm’s way.”

Y/N kept her gaze on his hands as they held hers, nodding as she tried to keep her emotions at bay.  “I was standoffish with you at the start,” Bucky conceded.  “I’m harboring some anger still.  But I know it’s not your fault.  Your work and networking connections speak for themselves, and I’m glad you’re my P.A.  You care about everyone here and the work we do.”

Y/N looked up at him finally, her eyes still sad but a small smile on her face.  “Thank you.”  She gripped his fingers a little tighter.  “I’m so sorry you went through that.  It’s one of my biggest fears for our models, and I just…I didn’t know.”

Bucky nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.  “Well now you do, and we can keep everyone else safe.”

Y/N nodded and slipped a hand away from him to dab at her eyes.  “God, I’m sorry,” she laughed.

“Don’t be,” Bucky laughed.  “I appreciate your concern.”

Y/N quickly sniffed then stood.  “Well,” she cleared her throat and walked back to the desk.  “Canceling that meeting will free up your Thursday lunch, so if there was a specific agency you were interested in we could reach out to them.  Tony always liked having open Fridays, so I haven’t scheduled anything for that day, but if you’d rather I can move some of the next Monday’s meetings over.  Also your mother’s birthday is in two weeks, and since she’s been traveling I got her itinerary and ordered her gift to be delivered in Romania when she gets there, though you’ll need to let me know whether she likes peach or pink roses.  Peach means gratitude, while pink means more along the lines of sweetness and refinement, and since it’s her 65th birthday it would be nice to do something representing that.  The thank you cards are ready for you to sign for all the gifts for your directorship here–”

“Free Fridays sounds great,” Bucky snickered.  “She loves pink.  I’ll sign those tomorrow.  Man, when you get going you just keep going, don’t you?”

Y/N snorted.  “You didn’t let me finish, but yes, I do.”

Bucky watched amusedly as she continued to rattle off everything for the foreseeable future.

***

“Hydra Modeling Agency, how can I help you?”

“Hi Elsie,” Y/N drawled in a sickly sweet voice over the phone.

“Ugh, what do you want?” Elsie scoffed.

“Just calling to tell you the meeting for Thursday is canceled,” Y/N sing-songed.

“Excuse me?” Elsie snorted.  “You can’t just cancel with Alexander Pierce.”

“Watch me,” Y/N said, her voice dropping low.  “And you can let him know that we will never be doing business with him or Hydra again.”

Elsie stuttered and she lowered her voice.  “You can’t just cancel contracts like that.  He owns half of the modeling world.  Do you seriously want to start this war?”

“Oh I think he’s got much bigger fish to fry than worrying about losing a measly little contract with us,” Y/N laughed, then hit send on her email.  She could hear the ping from Elsie’s computer on the other end of the line.  She waited until she heard a gagging sound.  “Do tell Alex the bitch from Olympus says hi, and if you could pass along a message to Brock…tell him to rot in hell,” she said, then hung up.

An hour later Bucky came out of his office with a look of shock on his face.  “Y/N, could I see you in my office?”

“Yes,” she smiled and grabbed her notebook.  She followed him into the office and he closed the door behind her.  She turned to him after she set the book down on his desk.  “So what did you—oof!”

Bucky hugged her, squeezing her tight as he tucked his face into the crook of her neck.  Y/N froze for a moment before she felt his body shaking with quiet sobs.  She quickly melted into his embrace, her hands looping behind him and caressing his back as she felt his tears start wetting her shoulder.  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“Nothing…nothing’s wrong,” Bucky muttered against her.  His fingers gripped the back of her shirt as he squeezed her again.  He pulled away after a moment and looked down at her.

Y/N’s heart ached to see him cry but he was smiling.  “Then why are you crying?” she huffed a laugh as her hands moved from his back to his face, wiping away the tears.

“I don’t know how you did it, but thank you,” Bucky smiled, sniffing quickly.  “I’ve been getting calls from multiple people for the past hour about that email you sent out.”  Y/N fought the smile on her face and looked away.  “I didn’t know that Rumlow assaulted so many other models.  You’ve done more to stop him in just minutes than I ever had the courage to in years,” he said quietly, biting his lip to stop it from trembling.  

Y/N pulled his hands from behind her and held them in front of her, her thumbs softly running across his knuckles.  “Like you said, I care about the people I work with.  Both in our agency and outside of it.  And I couldn’t stand the thought of him just out there, walking free and hurting other people.  So I made a few calls and sent a few emails,” she reached up and wiped a few more fallen tears, “talked to HR and our legal team, and a bunch of news outlets.  Nobody hurts my family and gets away with it.”

Bucky stared at her in admiration for a minute before looking at their entwined hands.  He moved his hands so he was holding hers instead and brought them up to his lips, kissing each hand before setting them back down.  “Thank you.”

Y/N was surprised by the affection but welcomed it.