#and then THIS WEEK is the last week of crazy overtime hours at work

[epitomees]

IT IS MUN'S BIRTHDAAAAAAAAY!!!!

[inbabylontheywept]

can we get more security clearance stories? they are amazing

Yeah, sure. Remember how getting contractors in to perform regular to the maintenance is basically impossible? One of the issues that we have is that the roof is kind of fucked. Like, in the newer sections, it's fine, and in the older sections, it leaks and we just have big barrels to catch the rainwater, and in the oldest sections there are actual holes. Which is crazy, because the oldest sections are where a lot of the tests happen. Those are almost always the most important parts of the facility. And the holes have been a problem for a while, but it is only "recently" (the last ten years) (yes, that is recent in government time) that the holes got big enough to fit birds.

So we have been getting birds into our secret facility.

This causes several issues.

The first issue is that, surprisingly, the people here are gentle, and they don't like seeing birds die. Some of the old hands are pretty jaded about it, and they have tennis rackets that they used to use for uh... bird removal. But the newer batch threw a fit when they suggested that, so now we have to make a big ordeal out of getting the birds out of the building. And if I sound bitter about it, I'm not - I am one of the people that said absolutely no bird smashing. But it is much easier to catch a bird than it is to just smack it out of the air.

(Another layer of difficulty is the whole "working in a labyrinth" thing. The birds have a lot of places to run.)

The second issue is that sometimes we can't get the birds out, and they die in weird places. This isn't just sad - it makes the test areas smell bad for weeks afterwards, and a lot of us spend the majority of our working hours in those locations. So it's sad and gross and stinky.

And the third issue, which is actually kind of the worst, is that government knows about the "perimeter leaks" (IE, large holes in the ceiling) and instead of fixing the holes, they put extra security measures in place. You know, in case spies climb in through the holes. Which means that, unfortunately, instead of getting the holes fixed, we got a state of the art alarm system, complete with motion detection lasers.

So the birds get in, and we actually can't leave until they get out, because they will, and have, and frequently do, trip the alarms. And when the alarms trip, people get called in to check the site and confirm for the 10,000th time that no, it's not Russians: It's birds.

It's always birds.

(Some of the techs actually kind of enjoy those calls during the weekends, because it means free overtime where there's literally nothing asked of them. Getting the "bird alarm" call is just 4 hours of OT where you check the test cell and confirm, no spies, just birds, then sit there and play checkers or read or whatever until the airforce base calls back and says that it seems safe enough for you to go home.)

(Engineers like those calls less, because we don't get time and a half, and we also don't need the cash quite as much as the techs do.)

Anyway, the crazy scenario is when it's like, 30 minutes to quitting, and a bird gets in. Because now we can't leave until we get the bird out. And the scene that happens is actually quite pretty.

So, the first thing that will happen is that there will be yelling downstairs. The downstairs people are always irate about birds getting in close to quitting. The anger is directed vaguely at the bird, and vaguely at the government, and more specifically at whatever absolute fuckhead bought us an alarm system instead of fixing our roof.

The majority of the crowd of grousing engineers and techs will then move into the upper offices. A couple will break off to grab the floodlight and shine it down the stairs, a few more will prop the doors open, and someone will venture back into the basement to turn off the light.

Click, the light goes off, it's dark, there's this big, warm, yellow pool of light just dripping down the stairs like a river of melted butter, and there's a crowd of tennish people + whoever is poking their heads out of the office to watch. No one will be breathing at all... and then, 9 times out of 10, a little bird will flit out of the basement, up the stairs, towards the light, and trigger the apocalypse.

Everyone chases the bird.

The goal at first is not to catch the bird. That's very difficult, and none of us have very good hand eye coordination. The goal is to thunder along and keep the bird from sitting down and having a breather.

We are there to exhaust the bird.

It is just accepted that this thundering herd will go wherever the bird goes. If your office door is open, and the bird flies in, it doesn't matter what reports you're filling out, or what phone call you're on - you are expected to deal with the panting and scrambling and general primal chaos of the hunting party until the bird goes somewhere else. Eventually, the bird will slow down enough that someone can catch it. This is a semi-coveted position, because, yes, you do get to hold a bird in your hand. And holding a bird is a wonderful thing. They are so soft, and so small, and you feel so careful with the poor thing. But also, it will bite you. Always. And the birds out here bite like needle nose pliers. It hurts so bad. I have been the guy holding the bird before, and it's this kind of beautiful scene again - to be standing there, hands cupped gently around this thing that is chewing the fuck out of the squishy webbing between my thumb and my palm. Tears streaming down my cheeks, surrounded by my little hunting party, that is telling me how much further until the nearest exit, opening all the doors for me. Hushed in the silence as they acknowledge my sacrifice. Inspecting the chomps afterwards and giving their opinion on how long it will be until it stops hurting.

I'm getting a little lost in the sauce here and don't really know how to end this. It's a really good job. Wouldn't be half as fun if it was run in a sane and competent manner.

I'll make this into a post at some point.

[soullumii]

carry out | javier peña x f!reader

javier peña x afab!reader

summary: javier’s messy way of dealing with business causes the two of you to work late. he offers to buy you carry out to apologize for making you stay late (and, more reluctantly, for making you miss the date you had planned). then he offers something else to make it up to you.  warnings: 18+ content mdni, smut [oral sex (f receving), unprotected piv], soft!javi, smiley!javi, sassy!reader, praise kink (for both reader and javi), javi likes to please, pet names (chiquita, baby, querida, sweetheart, angel), lots of uses of the word ‘fuck’, might be a little ooc?, no use of y/n. word count: 5k-ish?

inspired by carry out by timbaland

---

The last time you looked out the windows of the U.S. embassy, the sky was fading from blue to a pale orange. Now, when you peek up from the mountain of paperwork in front of you, the stars are the only thing visible, everything else bathed in darkness.

You can't remember the last time you actually went home on time from your job as a secretary. It had to be before Peña and Murphy started working here. With them around, your overtime hours stretched longer and longer. 

It’s for a good cause, you remind yourself. Because, truly, it is. Catching the Narcos is top priority. It’s just hard to remember that when you’re drowning in paperwork and have to cancel the plans you had made a week ago for this shit.

“Look, I’m really sorry again. It’s still crazy over here,” you apologize into the plastic transmitter for the second time this evening, twirling the curly wire around your finger. The first time you called your date was a couple hours ago when you had to relay the unfortunate state of your situation: multiple things to do and not nearly enough hours in the workday to do them. Thus, staying overtime.

“No worries. We can go out tomorrow instead.”

You smile, “Thanks, Michael. That sounds great.”

You hang up the phone and the moment it hits the switch, your expression transforms into a deep frown. You send the most withering glare you can manage to the only man left in the room and the cause of all your problems: Javier fucking Peña. If looks could kill, yours would, but unfortunately, they cannot. And Javier doesn’t even seem to notice, his nose buried in his own respective papers. The hard line of his brow is furrowed over his dark eyes, the skin between his brows pinched in a way that makes you itch to smooth it out. Not for his benefit, but for your own, because it is awfully infuriating.

His normally perfectly coiffed hair is curling over his forehead, ruffled a bit at the edges as if he’s been anxiously running his hands through it, and one hand twirls a pen between his fingers while the other is pushed up against his temple. Seems like the long hours are getting to him, too. 

Good.

“Michael again, huh?” Javier comments, still staring down at his documents. His pen scribbles on a notepad. “He’s… clingy.”

You staple a few papers together, and if the stapler clamps down a bit harder than you mean it to, you can hardly be at fault for that.

“If that’s clingy, I worry about the women you’ve been with. They probably thought you hated them.” You retort, not looking up. 

“Quite the opposite, angel.”

Arrogant bastard, your mind supplies. 

You don’t grant him the satisfaction of a response, focusing instead on the work in front of you. And you want to scream. Or cry maybe. Because this is literally all his fault. 

If it weren’t for the shit he bothered you with earlier, and the multiple times he interrupted Ambassador Noonan, you wouldn’t be here trying to play catch up—rescheduling all the meetings she had to miss and filing reports for the classified information Javier “stole” from the files room, to which you did not give him permission to take, but still received shit for anyway. 

And, of course, you received shit for “letting” him in. Which you did not do! He had just waltzed in, hours after you had told him multiple times that he was not allowed in and that you were not allowed to let him in. 

You glare at him again, and this time he’s looking at you, a single dark eyebrow raised. 

You’d quite like to strangle him. 

“You gonna tell me what these looks mean or am I just supposed to guess?” He asks, bemused. 

“I’m mad at you,” you grit.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

The papers in your hold crumple as your fingers tighten. You can hear your molars grinding against each other as you try to hold back your anger. This fucking asshole—! 

“Is this about earlier?”

“Yes. It is.”

He sighs, setting his pen down. “Look, we really needed to get that information and I already said—“

You interrupt him again with a barely concealed snarl. “Sure, right. You’re sorry, and you needed it, but I’m always the one that has to deal with the fallout, while you go prance about and fuck whores and get congratulations. And now we’re here late and I had to cancel my date and I’m so behind.” You bury your face into your palms with a groan of exasperation.

You peek through your fingers to glare at Javier again only to notice... is that …guilt reflecting in his brown eyes? Gods above, you didn’t think he was capable of feeling that emotion, or any, for that matter.

(You know he is. There had been a few times at the local bar with Steve, or in the parking lot after a late shift when he had shown the other side of him. When he’d talk about his family, or life back in the States, you saw something other than a flirtatious smirk or a tense look on his face. Something softer. Warmer. It was…disarming. And terribly addicting.) 

Even so, this whole situation is because of him, so you push away the instinctual urge to forgive him just to wipe that look off his face.

Javier stands, straightening his papers and shoving them in a manila folder stamped with the word “CLASSIFIED” on top. You drop your gaze back to your work, trying to drown out the sound of him packing up.

Yeah. Fine. You go home, while I’m stuck here. 

You’re almost able to read the words swimming in front of you when you’re interrupted by Javier leaning over your desk on his elbows, his leather jacket stretching audibly over his broad shoulders. He drops your coat down next to him on the polished mahogany and you tilt your head to regard him with suspicion, a snarky remark on the tip of your tongue.

He beats you to the punch. 

“Are you even getting anything done anymore?” He asks, gesturing to your papers. You’ve reread the same paragraph about five times by now, you think. 

“Actually, yes—“

He rudely interrupts you with a crooked grin. “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. You’re terrible at it.” He taps your coat with two fingers. “Come on.”

“But I’m not done y—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupts, again. “I want to get out of here and you need to get out of here. Seriously. Let’s get something to eat, I’ll pay for it to make up for my shitty behavior.”

You stare at him in genuine surprise, jaw slack. “Wow, the Javier Peña can actually admit when he fucks up? I’m in shock.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a complete ass.”

“That’s debatable.” 

He frowns. “Do you want food or not?”

“Are you threatening to go back on your word? That’s low even for you, Peña. I’m pretty sure when you’re in debt to someone you’re supposed to be treating them with respect—“

He grumbles and turns for the door. “Never mind about the empanadas, then.”

Your chair audibly screeches over the tile flooring as you jump up, slinging your jacket over your shoulder. “Wait! I’m coming.”

You try your damn best to ignore the amused smile on his face that, to your chagrin, makes him look rather handsome as you follow him out to his Jeep Cherokee.

“If I had known food won you over so easily I would’ve used that a long time ago.” He jokes as he turns the car on. You buckle yourself in.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to be so eager next time. I’m only accepting this because I was deprived of my meal tonight.” 

He pulls out onto the road. 

“Sorry you didn’t get to have a date full of awkward pauses and subpar food, sweetheart.” 

You scoff at his audacity. "Goes to show how much you know about enjoying something other than sex with a woman."

"I know how to take a woman out on a date," he insists, glancing at you.

"Don't lie to me sweetheart, you're terrible at it," you echo his words from earlier back at him with a saccharine smile.

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

After a moment, he finally speaks again, tone genuinely sincere. “I hope you know I really am sorry for everything and making you stay late."

It takes you by surprise, and you meet his stare. His brown eyes look almost black in the darkness. A shiver travels up your spine. 

His eyes should be illegal.

You clear your throat, straightening in your seat. “Yeah, well, we’ll see if I forgive you after my food.” 

He chuckles at that, “Okay.”

Eventually he pulls the Jeep into the parking lot of your favorite local place (how did he know?) and then you’re standing in line to order. It’s ten at night and somehow there is still a line. Well, it is your (and everybody else’s) favorite for a reason. 

Javier manages to convince you to bring your empanadas back to his place. 

“We live right next to each other.”

“All the more reason for me to go home.”

“I have dessert. I’m trying to make it up to you.”

“Ugh, fine.” 

(You really don’t mind it. You just like to give him a hard time.)

So you order carry out.

His keys jangle as he unlocks the door to his apartment, and he sets the containers of carry out on his coffee table. He shrugs out of his leather jacket, and you do the same, trying not to stare at the way the sleeves of his button up stretch tantalizingly over his biceps, nor at the way his strong forearms are on display. 

Listen. He might annoy the fuck out of you, but you can admit that he is quite...attractive.

“Make yourself at home. Want a drink?” He asks, already grabbing two glasses.

“Sure, whiskey is fine. Since I’m assuming that’s all you have.”

“You know me so well.”

You look around his apartment and notice it's sparsely decorated, which makes sense to you, although, it still feels cozy in a way. 

The lamps reflect a gentle warm hue over the barren walls, save for a few government installed abstract paintings. Somehow, compared to your apartment in the same building, his place feels more comfortable. 

There’s a hand-knitted afghan sitting over the back of his couch and you twist the fraying yarn between your fingers as you admire the handiwork. 

“My abuela made that, before she died.” Javier says gently, handing you a glass of whiskey. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Yeah. She was really talented. This was the only thing I wanted to take with me from the States.” He takes a sip from his glass. 

“Did she knit a lot?”

He nods. “All of the time, it felt like. Can’t remember the last time I didn’t see her in a rocking chair, a ball of yarn at her feet.” He muses, and these are the moments with Javier that you crave. You wish you had more of them. The way he softens when he gets that damned smile on his face… the way the crows' feet around his warm brown eyes deepen... It's, as you said before, terribly addicting.

You smile gently. “Where’s all her work now?”

“With my dad. He hardly let me go with this.” 

You chuckle, and then Javier’s gesturing to the couch. 

“Come on.”

You follow him over to the couch and he settles down into the cushions with a sigh, resting an arm lazily across the back. You sit perched awkwardly on the end. All of a sudden, the room feels too small. It smells like him, like tobacco and sage and… man. 

You’re finally realizing how close you’ve been to him this entire evening, and your body is certainly realizing it too. 

See, this is why you had a date tonight. 

“Relax,” he tells you.

“I am.”

“You’re not,” he leans forward, a smirk growing on his lips. “I’m not gonna bite, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You scoff, but a stubborn flush works its way into your cheeks. “No, ‘course not.”

You grab your container and Javier follows, and soon he’s got the TV on and you’re both enjoying your empanadas with the gentle noise of the Price is Right in the background. You relax into the cushions, your exhaustion encouraging you to do so before your brain can stop you.

It’s nice though. He’s… nice. 

“Hey," Javier eventually mumbles into the space between you. 

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna make sure the guys don’t come after you again for the bad decisions I make."

You roll your head to look at him, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “It’s about time I took responsibility for the shitty things I’ve done."

“No truer words have ever been spoken.” You deadpan. It earns you a quiet chuckle, and you smile, turning your attention back to the TV.

You polish off your empanadas, licking the juices and bread crumbs from your fingers, and you think you see Javier watching you raptly out of the corner of your eye, but then you blink and his eyes are on the TV, as if he’d never been looking over at you in the first place. 

Damn, you need to sleep. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “Is this better than the date with Michael would’ve been?” 

You groan dramatically. “Why are you so bothered by him?”

“‘M not.” He says, but it sounds unconvincing even to your ears. “Just curious.”

“Are you jealous, Javi?” You grin into your glass of whiskey, the alcohol pouring warmth into your bloodstream, along with that heady, outlandish, and fleeting thought of him actually being jealous, maybe even possessive over you.

You really need to sleep. 

“‘Course not. Just want to make sure our little secretary is treated right.”

“I’m hardly treated right at work, this guy would probably be a step up from the people that talk to me on a daily basis.”

“I hope you don’t mean me.”

“I especially mean you.”

He sighs heavily, his head falling back against the cushions. He levels you with a pleading look, lips in a pout. “Come on, chiquita. When will you forgive me?”

Chiquita. That’s new. 

You tap your chin, glancing about as if in thought, attempting to ignore the giddy feeling curling in your stomach at the pet name. “I dunno…You still haven’t convinced me that you’re truly sorry.” 

Of course he has. You just like to stir the pot.

“No?”

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ dramatically, grinning smugly as you tease him.  “You’re missing the whole groveling and begging on your knees, bit.”

It’s a joke. Seriously. You think he'll just laugh, wave it off, and then you’ll actually forgive him. But that’s not what happens at all. 

Because he’s slowly lowering himself to the floor, all while keeping strict eye contact with you. The air rushes out of your lungs in a single, astonished, harsh exhale. 

“What…what are you doing?” You breathe, because seriously, what the hell is he doing? 

“Groveling. Isn't that what you want, chiquita?” 

He places himself in between your legs, and you really should be pushing him away, but instead your legs spread to make room for him. The movement has his eyes darkening significantly. 

Fuck. What are you doing?

“Javi…” You whisper, eyes wide.

A large, warm hand comes up to grip your right calf, massaging your muscles gently with thick, strong fingers while the other kneads at your left ankle. His lips press up against your leg in a soft kiss. 

“Let me show you how truly sorry I am,” he whispers against your calf, chocolate eyes boring into you. Heat licks at your core in white hot flames. 

Okay. Okay, wait, this is actually a really good way for him to repay you. He had deprived you of potential sex, but now is offering it to you on a silver platter. 

Still, you hesitate, remembering his reputation. 

“Javi, I don’t know… I don’t want to be another notch on your belt.”

He shakes his head, brows furrowed, his voice rough with sincerity. “You’re not. You never will be, you’re so much more than that, querida.” He reassures you, laying another soft kiss against your skin, and a shiver rattles your spine. “Wanna make you feel good…wanna make up for what I did..."

You take a shaky breath, warmth fanning out over your body. 

Fuck, this could either be a really good idea, or a really bad idea that could fuck up your already fucked up work relationship. 

But shit, if you aren’t wet right now…and he really does have some apologizing to do…

“Okay…show me.”

He sighs into your skin, his smile in relief edging on a satisfied smirk. “Thank you, chiquita.” 

And then he’s pushing your pencil skirt up your thighs with his big hands, eyes raptly watching the way your skin is revealed to him, like carefully unwrapping a gift. Soon enough your skirt is pooled around your waist, your throbbing cunt trapped behind the lace of your black panties. Javi sucks in an appreciative breath, eyes scanning every inch of you.

He pulls at the elastic hem of your waistband, then releases, letting it slap against your skin, and looks up at you with barely concealed disdain, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. “These for Michael?”

“Maybe,” you mutter, trying to ignore the way his possessive question sends tingling heat through your core. 

He tsks, squeezing your thigh. Why are his hands so goddamn big? “Now I'm glad I kept you late. He doesn’t deserve to see you like this.”

“Oh like you do?” 

“Chiquita, I know I don’t. Still, who's in between your thighs right now? I bet Michael doesn’t even like to eat pussy.”

“Javi!” You scold, embarrassment traveling up your body. He just smirks.

“That’s certainly not the tone you’re supposed to be using with my name. Let’s fix that.”

He maneuvers his hands to grip your lower back, and he scoots you to the edge of the couch. He inches his fingers beneath your panties and slowly peels them off of you, pupils dilating when he notices the slickness of your cunt.

“Fuck, baby,” he mumbles, “you’re soaked.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been awhile.” You grumble, clenching around nothing at his words. 

“You sure it’s not just because of me?”

“Positive, Peña.”

He leans in, warm breaths puffing over your aching core. “Mm, I love it when you’re mean, baby.” 

And then he’s licking a hot stripe through your folds, and your hands that hold you upright jolt to his dark hair, threading the locks through your fingers. You sink into the couch on a high pitched whimper. “Javi—“

“Yeah, there we go, that’s it,” he hums against you, smiling into your pussy, and the vibrations travel through your spine, sending a wave of pleasure crashing into you. 

His cockiness should make you mad, but all it does is make you crave him more. 

He presses in, licking again, this time into you, and the tip of his curved nose bumps against your aching clit, releasing a wrecked moan from your lips.

“Shit,” you huff, eyes screwed shut as he continues to lap at you. “Remind me next time to ride your face—“

He stops his ministrations to look up at you, pupils blown wide, his glistening mouth curling wickedly. “Next time?”

“We all know men are prone to making mistakes,” you tease. “It’s just a matter of when. And when you do, I'll need another apology."

He goes to respond, but you tug on his soft hair, urging him back into your warmth. Whatever response he has is muffled into your slick, and he’s lapping you up like a man in the desert, moaning graciously. 

You feel him start to pull back, and you open your eyes, glaring down at him. “What are you—“ Your protests fade into a moan when you feel two long, thick fingers slowly slide into you. Your head falls against the back of the couch. 

“I knew you were a brat at work but I didn’t think you’d be the same in bed.” He jokes quietly into your thigh, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. They reach so much farther than yours do, and it feels so fucking good. God, you really needed this. 

“Different from your usual whore, hm?” You quip in between moans. 

“Yeah, I like it though,” he admits. “Could get fuckin’ addicted to your attitude and this pussy.”

You should be embarrassed by the new wave of slick running down his fingers at that, but you’re not. If he claims he could get addicted, you know you already are. You’re craving your next hit and Javi needs to be the one to give it to you. 

He seems to know what you want without you having to say, leaning in to wrap his lips around your clit again. 

You slouch into the couch, hips chasing his warm mouth, scooting you toward the edge. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you upright, and you buck into him. You grip his hair, urging him closer to your heat.

You can feel your orgasm building, ebbing and flowing, like the waves of an ocean. Each lick and suck and prod from Javi paired with the skilled way his fingers thrust in and up and out of you feels like a tug from a rip current, threatening to pull you under. 

God damn, he’s good. 

“Fuck—hng—shit, Javi!”

“Mmhmm, taste so good, chiquita.” He moans against you. 

“Mmngh, fuck, need you—your mouth on me all—all the time. So good.”

He sucks on your clit as if in agreement, and your hips jerk, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen spasming, just on the edge of your orgasm. 

“‘m gonna come—Jav—“

He gently scrapes his teeth over your clit and—oh shit. You’re fucking gone.

Your orgasm punches the air out of you, exploding white hot, tingles zipping through your nerve endings. Warmth spreads across you like a roaring wildfire. You hardly register the moans leaking out of you in an endless stream, your body so overwhelmed with pleasure.

Javi’s moaning too, his other hand palming himself through his jeans as he laps up everything you give him. 

Your legs shake as you ride it out, and he gently strokes them as he licks you through your high.  

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” he mumbles against your heat. “So fuckin’ good for me. Look so pretty when you come.”

He doesn’t stop, continuing to lick you through the aftershocks.

You tug on his hair, pulling him off of you when you’ve had enough. “Okay…that’s enough, Javi.”

Javier laughs as extracts himself from your legs, sitting down on the edge of the couch. You scoot back to sit properly again, though you're practically boneless against the cushions.

Comfortable silence settles over the both of you as you catch your breath. He smiles at you, his dimple showing, and you smile back at him, your heart jumping in your chest. He looks like he thoroughly enjoyed himself, all ruffled and flushed. His dark hair stands up in multiple directions from your tugging, and his mustache glistens with your arousal. 

He looks so cute. Damn it! 

Angry feelings for Javier were normal. But these…lovey dovey-esque feelings simmering beneath the surface are not. 

You just can’t stay mad at him.

“…’Kay maybe I forgive you now.”

He raises a brow. “Just a ‘maybe’?”

You nod, eyes dropping down to where his cock is pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans, just begging to be freed. “Think I remember you mentioning dessert.”

He follows your line of sight and outright laughs, smiling so wide his eyes actually disappear. Fuck, why is he so cute? “I actually meant that—I have tres leches in the fridge but—shit, really?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “I mean, you might as well actually fuck me at this point.”

“Jesus Christ—okay.”

He pulls you toward his bedroom, but you both get distracted along the way. 

He finds your lips at the entrance to the hallway, pressing you into the wall and kissing you roughly, hands unbunching your skirt to find the zipper, uttering under his breath about how unprofessional the garment is. Once the metal piece is in his fingers, he tugs it down, pulling away to watch your skirt fall to the floor.

He loses his shirt next, at the door to his bedroom, with you scolding him about how you’ll call HR on the amount of skin he dares to show at work. You only unbutton it enough for him to be able to pull it over his head, and then your hands are on him, squeezing the muscles of his arms and scratching lightly over his tan pectorals. You run your fingers up the long valley of his spine as he kisses you, delighting in the way he shudders against you at your touch.

He tugs yours off next, choosing now to bite your neck with a teasing “Guess I do bite”, and running his warm hands along your waist and breasts appreciatively. 

You finally make it into his room and he’s pushing you onto the bed, climbing over you, still clad in his dark, too-tight jeans. Those need to come off. 

“Fuck,” he swears, watching as you unbutton his jeans, tugging the zipper down. Arousal floods through you as you palm him through his briefs, hot and warm and big in your hands. 

“Been thinkin’ about this for a while,” he says, voice rough. He tugs his jeans and briefs off then reclaims his spot over you, leaning down to mouth at your neck. 

“How long,” you whimper, head tilting to allow him access. You shiver at the feeling of his light five 'o clock shadow scraping your neck as he moves up to your ear. He bites gently down on your earlobe.

“Too fucking long.”

Your hand wraps around his thick, warm length, and he jerks, thrusting into your loose fist. He groans, a sound so wrecked it’s like he’s in pain, and you take that as the sign that you need to get things moving.

You direct the head of his cock to your entrance, your gaze catching his own. Heavy eyes framed by thick lashes watch your face scrunch in pleasure as he slowly sheaths himself in you. God you feel so full as he bottoms out, more than you have with anyone else.

“Been wanting this too,” you admit. 

He smirks, “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You roll your eyes, but then he thrusts into you and they actually roll into the back of your head as he pulses inside you.

“Fuck, Javi.” 

“That’s it, chiquita.” He grips your thigh, pushing it up to gain a new angle. And then he picks up his pace, fucking into you with abandon. It’s like you can feel it in your throat, his cock hitting deep inside you. You jerk against the bed, the headboard slamming into the wall rhythmically. How many times have you heard this through the wall being his neighbor just on the other side? And now it’s you in the place of the multiple women he’s had over. And you think, maybe, that he’s enjoying it more with you than he was with them. 

He’s grunting above you, moans and whimpers escaping his lips as he fucks you with all the skill and expertise he’s gained over the many years of fucking his informants. He’s louder than he was when you heard him with the others. 

And you…you’re louder than the many times you got off by yourself just on the other side of the wall. Moans and praises drop out of your lips unfiltered—you just can’t stop.

“That’s it, Javi–yes. So good. Fucking me so well.”

And he’s fucking…loving it. 

You can feel his dick jumping inside you with each compliment, and it sends a new wave of arousal crashing within you each time. 

He’s getting close, but so are you, everything is tightening, a catapult ready to sling you off the deep end.

"Javi—I'm—“

"Yeah, that's it, baby." His hand gravitates down to circle your clit. "Come for me, being so good—you deserve it after today. Come on—“

You deserve it.

That's what fucking gets you.

Heat and fire and light and everything heavenly bursts within you as you come on Javier's cock, muscles spasming as they rejoice in that fact that you're finally getting laid. You're practically screaming, back arching off the bed as you ride the wave.

And Javi's fucking you through it, trying to hold off. But you don’t want him to.

"Come in me, Javi."

“You sure?”

“Please.”

How is he supposed to deny you?

He comes right on command, releasing inside you, and the feeling is euphoric. He's warm and hot as he coats the inside of you, and...shit...

...how are you supposed to live without this?

He collapses next to you, and you both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath.

You turn on your side to look at him, but he's already watching you. His hand idly traces the inside of your arm.

You think you could get used to this.

"So," he says, dragging out the syllables, "forgive me now?”

You run a hand down his chest in thought.

“Hmm… I think I might need a little more convincing.”

He just grins. “You’re a fuckin’ menace.”

And then he’s reaching his hand up to cup your jaw and pull you in for a kiss much more sweeter and tender than before, as if this kiss is the real apology, and everything else before was just him buttering you up to prepare you.

If that’s the case, you accept it anyway, because you deserve it. And so does he. And you know he’ll just keep making mistakes—he’s only human, after all.

But at least he has a method to earning your forgiveness.

Oh, and carry out.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

High On Lovin' You - Bob Floyd x Reader

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic inspired by a dream I had the other day, not beta read and may have some errors? I tried y'all. also inspired by h.o.l.y. by florida georgia line

pairing: bob floyd x wife! reader

warnings/content: bob as a dad, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, smut, fingering.

word count: 2.1k

The Californian breeze was warm and refreshing as it blew in off the coast of Coronado, brushing against your skin. You followed Bob up the brick-laden steps of Rooster’s seaside home, your daughter, Sunday, balancing on Bob’s hip as he jogged up the steps. You couldn’t help but admire the way he managed to make something as mundane as running up a couple of steps holding a baby effortlessly attractive.

His sandy coloured hair had been brushed back slightly, a change from his normal, military-approved style, and his wire framed glasses had been replaced with a pair of prescription aviator sunglasses. His baby blue polo shirt hugged his figure, accentuating his toned chest, his biceps flexing against the sleeve of the shirt as he held Sunday. He’d dressed her this morning, in a baby blue gingham dress that matched the hue of his shirt perfectly, with her curly blonde hair pulled back off her forehead with a coordinating headband, adorned with a bow.

“You ready to go see Uncle Roo, Sunny?” Bob cooed at your daughter, stroking her cheek gently with his index finger as he spoke to her.

Sunday giggled and cooed at her father as the three of you walked around to the side gate of the house. Bob reached around over the gate door to unlatch it, and as you watched him, you couldn’t help but notice that his normally slender build was appearing more and more muscular and toned. You knew that Bob had been spending a lot more time with Rooster lately, and by extension, Hangman, who’d convinced all the guys to start hitting the gym with him before trainings under the guise of “team-building” but you were convinced it was because he didn’t want to work out alone anymore. The gym sessions combined with carrying an almost toddler around were enough to have an impact on Bob’s upper body strength.

Bob looked over to you for a moment, flashing you a smile before walking up to Rooster with a firm handshake and a hug. Bob set Sunday down on the grass to play, watching as she started playing. He’d insisted on giving you a break for the day, feeling guilty for spending the last week and a half working overtime and putting in longer hours as they trained for an upcoming mission. You knew there was no use in arguing with him about it, and the extra time spent with Sunday meant the world to him. Besides that, something about seeing Bob take on the role of doting dad was driving you crazy with arousal, and you were going to make sure you did something about it later tonight.

“Sunday, come here, honey!” Bob called as he chased after your now very active and mobile 11 month old daughter. 

Later that night, you watched as your husband whispered goodnight to your baby daughter over the monitor on your phone, your heart fluttering at the sight of him leaning his tall, slender frame down to kiss his little girl on the forehead, murmuring sweet sayings to her that were barely audible over the noise of the sound machine that was playing.

 “Ok, I think Sunday’s finally gone down for the night. They aren’t kidding when they say that sleep regressions are the worst, are they?” Bob chuckled as he bounded down the stairs, shaking his head as he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tightly towards his body. 

“Have I told you yet that you’re the best husband in the world?” 

“You might have mentioned it earlier when she spat up on my shirt right before Rooster’s party for his promotion, but I’d be ok with hearing it again.” 

A cocksure grin appeared on Bob’s face as he nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, gentle kisses against the curvature of your body. A soft, surprised moan fell from your lips as his mouth made contact with your skin, but that was all the encouragement Bob needed to start kissing a trail from the top of your shoulder up to your ear. His movements were playful and light-hearted, but he knew that was what drove you wild. His hands caressed at your waist, sliding down to your hips as he pulled you in closer to him with a gentle yank, the curves of your ass now pressed firmly against his body. You could feel the fabric of his dress pants beginning to tighten against you as he began hiking up the skirt of your dress, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Bobby!” You giggled, shaking your head as you felt your heart race as if this was your first time being intimate with him. 

That was the thing you loved about Bob, he made every time feel as great as the first - the passion, love and excitement of when you’d spent your first night together, recaptured as if it was happening all over again. Bob had always been a passionate lover - your first night together he’d sheepishly confessed to you that he’d only ever had one girlfriend before, and he dated her throughout his high school years until he graduated and left for the Naval academy at 18. He’d been worried that his lack of variety in the field had made him inadequate, and he assured you that, if there was anything he was doing that you wanted him to do differently, he’d learn it for you. It’d been nothing short of perfect - you teased him that he must have been reading Cosmopolitan or something to know all the right places to touch you and kiss you, to which he just shrugged, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a grin.

Since that day, it was clear to you that Bob was a people pleaser, and there was no one on earth who he wanted to please more than you.

“You looked so hot in that dress today, babe. You’re stunning, you know that?” He purred into your ear as he continued to run his hands along your body, his breath hot on your neck as he spoke in that low, seductive tone he knew drove you crazy.

“Robert Floyd, you’re pushing it,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Now, now, darlin’, that’s Lieutenant Commander Robert Floyd. If you’re gonna use my full name, better be using that rank too, got it, pretty girl?”

You gave Bob a mock salute, a shit-eating grin on your face as you looked at him. Bob pulled you in closer, holding your hips firmly against him, your dress hiked up to your midsection as he gave your sides a gentle squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh ever-so-slightly as he held you. Grinding your hips against his, you grinned wickedly as Bob let out a groan. He spun you around quickly to face him, his blonde eyebrows raised quizzically at you. His bright, deep blue eyes were locked on yours and you felt like you might melt right there on the spot.

“Now, a pretty girl like you, she deserves to be treated right by her husband, doesn’t she?” Bob hummed, his fingers toying with your inner thigh. 

“Mhmm, is that so?”

“That’s what I reckon,” Bob smirked, his accent shifting, becoming thicker as he slipped into his natural Kentucky drawl, his fingers brushing against your wet slit.

“Bobby!” You hissed, unable to stop the soft gasp that came out of your mouth with it. 

“I think, since you do such a good job taking care of Sunday and I, I should return the favor, don’t you?” 

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Bob pushed two of his long fingers past your folds, pumping them into your core at a tantalizing slow pace that left you practically aching for more. He smirked as his fingers worked at your core, feeling your body clench at the movement of his hand. 

“Fuck, Bobby,” you mewled, feeling yourself tensing up at his touch, “Feels s’good.”

Bob pulled his fingers out of you, your body aching at the loss of contact. He stood upright, quickly undoing his belt at a break-neck pace. He smirked as he noticed you biting your bottom lip, watching him as he shimmied quickly out of his khaki coloured dress pants and boxer shorts. Reaching into the pocket of the now discarded pants on the floor, he pulled out a shiny foil square of packaging. As he started to open it, you shook your head, whispering in his ear, your voice in a breathy whine as you spoke.

“We don’t need to use that if you don’t want to, baby. I wanna feel you.”

“That so, baby? Thought you wanted at least two years between kids?” He laughed softly, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you.

“I know what I said. That was before I saw you handling Sunday so well at Rooster’s this afternoon. Now I’m thinking 20 months is good enough,” you replied with a shrug, your lips curling into a smirk as you tried to convince your normally level-headed and rational thinking husband to forgo any form of contraception. 

Bob furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before tossing the condom wrapper behind him with a grin.

“What the hell, I’m on board,” He shrugged as he lifted you up, causing you to squeal in surprise as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Bob carried you effortlessly over to the couch before dropping you gently down on to the leather sectional. He grinned as he hovered down over you, lining himself up with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock against you in a teasing manner, causing you to shudder and whine as you felt him make contact with your clit. He gave you a wicked grin as he watched you squirm before gently pushing himself forward. He paused for a moment for you to adjust to his size - something you should be used to by now, but yet, each time your body needed that extra moment or two to stretch around him. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, taking my cock so well,” Bob cooed as he pushed himself further into you, maintaining the slow pace he’d begun with. 

“Bobby,” you whined as he filled you, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly.

Bob began thrusting into you at a leisurely, slow pace, his voice low and husky as he grunted in your ear, reminding you of how good you feel, how you were all his, and how your body felt like it was practically made for him. You squirmed and shuddered with each thrust becoming harder and sharper, perfectly calculated to hit exactly where you wanted each time, something that was to be expected of a man who’s job entailed precision and skill when it comes to angles. 

“You feel so fucking fantastic, honey. Can’t wait to put another baby in ya. That’s what you want, isn’t it baby? Want me to give you another baby?”

Bob’s hips crashed into yours repeatedly as he thrusted, his sharp, quick movements beginning to grow sloppier as he edged closer to his orgasm. You tossed your head back in ecstasy as he bucked his hips into you, the combination of his words and his movements just about pushing you to your orgasm. 

“C’mon honey, tell me what you want from me,” Bob husked.

“Need you to put a baby in me, please, Bobby,” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer as his latest thrust pushed you to your boiling point.

As if your words flipped a switch inside of him, Bob’s hips bucked forward once more as he grunted, spilling out inside of you as your body clenched around him tightly.

Breathless and panting as you both rode out your orgasms, Bob couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at you, shaking his head.

“So what was it about my parenting that got you worked up?” He smirked, unable to shake the grin off his face as he leaned down to kiss your collarbone.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, I know something got you worked up today, and I doubt it was the backyard barbecue at Rooster’s.”

“Your biceps have gotten huge from carrying Sunday around everywhere, and with the polo shirt and the aviators today, and you were all proud of yourself for coordinating your outfit with Sunday’s, it was a combination of things, but,” you breathed, shaking your head as you grinned, “imagine how you’ll look balancing two toddlers on your hip.”

[strawburry01]

Northern Attitude

Summary: The team goes out to a small Montana town facing a random string of murders pointing to a new cult forming in the woods around town. Only once they get there does Hotch realize he recognizes the assistant chief for the town force- someone from his university days.

Word Count: 3k

No smut just angsty, maybe not entirely canon compliant but nothing crazy.

Authors Note: Let me know if folks want a part 2 (you may get one anyway, but my brain hasn't decided yet), or any one offs from Hotch and the characters time in uni. I have ideas...

It was another cold morning in your room. You refused to go to bed if it wasn’t comfortably cocooned in at least three blankets, but it did mean getting out of bed in the morning was particularly dreadful. You groan as you stretch your back hearing it pop as you twist. Eventually, you push yourself out of your warm pile of blankets and pillows to take a shower to wake up and start the day.

You worked as an assistant chief in your small Montana town. Things were slow for the most part. Nobody beyond the average population, except for the summers when the tourists came in for hiking and camping, but even then, it was never too much. A few rambunctious teens some nights, the occasional robbery of the convenience store downtown, a random carjacking every other month, but this had all come to a screeching halt when a random string of murders popped up over the last few weeks. Unfortunately, based on the scenes and your analysis, it seemed cult related, bringing a lot more attention, specifically from the government, to your once quaint town. 

Shuffling back to your room after your shower you throw on your average attire, black slacks, blue button up, and boots. Being a woman in a small town police force wasn’t easy, but you’d done your time. It only took a few cases before the men started realizing you meant business, and often would run the opposite direction in the office whenever they saw you walking in with a bad mood knowing you would make their life a living hell. Graduating from university with both electrical engineering and criminology made you stand out when you entered the workforce all those years ago, but the quiet side of you still yearned for silence and a work life balance, which is something you did get all the way out here. Well, at least before this all. You’d been working overtime every night into the late hours trying to figure out what you were dealing with. All you had was your bed every couple hours at night before your brain would wake you up again with a flood of new theories and ideas. You’d be happy when this was over, for all the reasons.

You jump into your truck and quickly blow onto your mug of coffee to cool it down as you head out to the latest scene. You swear out loud as you nearly spill it onto your lap as you take a turn too sharp. You crank the volume of your radio up to help wake you up and try to put you in a good mindset. You never tried to come to work in a bad mood, in fact you tried to come in on the cusp of being annoyingly positive and cautiously optimistic. You knew this line of work was easy to get sucked down into and spiral, you’d seen it before, hell you lived it before when you were fresh out of university. It’s what got you out working in a big city, or for a bigger federal office. 

You pull into the parking lot alongside the other police vehicles that had already shown up for the day. This latest murder scene was unfortunately in an empty field behind an abandoned high school. Definitely not creepy at all, you thought to yourself as you got out and eyed the several busted windows on the second floor. You grab your backpack and mug as you make your way to the tent set up with the team’s temporary office with laptops and files from the case.

“Morning boys,” you hum as you step underneath the tent, observing the open screens. You get a few ‘good mornings’ back. Some of the guys had been working since the scene was called in and you could tell. Dammit you should have brought coffee or doughnuts for them.

“Cheers boss”, one of the officers, Carter, sighs to you as he walks into the tent, clinking his coffee with yours. Carter had always been one of your favorites, he was young, wide-eyed, but still meant business. He’d grown up in the area so he knew all the folks like they were family. You let out a small smirk as you sip your coffee, starting to map out the plan for today.

You’d have to scour the entire field. And the entire school. You didn’t want a single potential lead or clue or mistake from them to be lost. The team would hate it but it needed to be done.

“Alright team find a friend and meet back here in ten minutes. You’re going to be split between the school and the field and I need all of it thoroughly searched. Heard?” you said, leaning on the table facing the team you had. They all nodded or chirped back a complaint which you laughed at, “you got ten minutes to warm up”.

You leaned back on the front of your truck as you took out a cigarette and placed it between your lips. Lighting it up you stared out into the field. Dappled with yellows and oranges, you can’t even see the ground through the wheat and piles of ancient dirt. Why here? Any other day this would be beautiful, but knowing a murder happened right here made it such a tragic scene. There’s a crackle of gravel from an incoming car behind you. Probably the chief coming in, albeit uncharacteristically early since he usually stayed in the office until things got really hairy. You sighed as you let a cloud of smoke out of your lips, staring up at the sun. Your phone buzzes against your hip and you lazily slide it out before checking it. 

It’s a text from the chief. “Federal Bureau coming in today. Play nice.”. Your stomach flips. FBI? Well shit. Also how rude of him not to text you any earlier than right now. “Who?”, you texted back. You see the cursed three dots pop up and down a few times before the text actually sends. “BAU”. You nearly drop your cigarette out of your mouth at your jaw dropping. 

As if on some otherworldly cursed cue.

“Y/n?” a terribly familiar voice says from behind you. You take a sharp inhale, before taking out your cigarette and turning your head, trying to look charming as hell.

“Hello dear Aaron,” you say with a smile on your face, seeing the man who’d been stuck in your thoughts since the day he left your side. 

It’s his eyes that never changed. They still scrunch up as he smiles at you.

“I didn’t know this was your town,” he said as he moved beside you. You look up at him, placing your cigarette back between your lips and shrugging with a smirk plastered on the side of your face. You catch his eyes quickly flickering over you, just as you look over him. He used to be skinny, studious, almost a nerd, but the man that stood in front of you now was built, stern, and serious. 

“I got told a few seconds ago that you’d be here at all. Chief keeps me on my toes,” you remarked, internally thinking about how you actually wanted to wring his neck for not telling you sooner. 

When you woke up this morning you did not- in a thousand years-  expect Aaron Hotchner to show up at your work. At your crime scene. It was a tumultuous mix of excitement, nerves, intrigue, and still a bit of anger. You hadn’t seen him in years, let alone reached out. Ever since ending on a sour note you never tried, mostly because you knew he wouldn’t respond- not out of spite but just because he was so busy and focused on work. It was admirable, but also so annoying.

“You smoke now?” he asked, snapping you out of your mental musings. He was eyeing disapprovingly the cigarette still hanging in the corner of your mouth. 

“You wear contacts now?” you retorted, raising an eyebrow. He sharply laughed and looked back to his team as they approached.

“Have for a while” he said, turning back to you.

“Haven’t known for a while” you snipped before throwing your cigarette butt onto the ground and smashing it out with your heel to free yourself to meet his team. “We’ll talk later Aaron” you said with a nod which he nodded back to, ending this conversation, knowing more pressing things existed than-

your-

university-

situationship- 

showing up again in your life. 

Aaron’s team pops up behind him and brings you back to focus. Dammit there was a murder on your watch and you could only think of this fucking man. Grow up, you swore in your head as you forced a customer service smile onto your face. 

“Team this is y/n l/n, a friend from university,” he said as he gestured to you. He couldn’t make eye contact when he called you just a friend. You noticed two of the men on the team elbowed each other, no doubt in shock their boss actually had friends outside of work at some point in his life. 

Aaron introduced you to his team and you tried to run through their names in your head as you shook their hands. You were terrible with names. Agent Reid was the twiggy one who looked perpetually deep in thought, Agent Morgan was the one with the tight black shirt who who had an air of confidence about him, Agent Jareau was the sweet blonde who acted like the unofficial mother of the group, and Rossi who was the tired old dad of the group. I’m sure Aaron loved being bossed around by him, you thought to yourself as you shook his hand. He seemed nice, but Aaron had never been one to not be the one in charge- the little control freak. 

You brought them to your tent to introduce them to your folks, trying to get everyone on the same page with daylight burning. Later than expected due to the guests everyone was ready to actually start looking through the field and school. You felt Aaron’s eyes on you as you told everyone to pair off, but you nabbed Carter before he could object. 

The search of both areas wasn’t as successful as you had hoped. The school had some ominous latin scribbled onto the walls in red, which had been determined to be blood on the scene, although it wasn’t the latest victims. Reid had somehow been able to translate the latin- you could see in an instant why they kept him around.

“So what’s the deal with you and the FBI guy?” Carter asks when you get to the smack dab middle of the field. Your neck hurts from craning over the ground, trying to not let a speck of earth go unseen. 

“What do you mean?” you ask back, not looking up as you continue scanning the ground.

“I’ve never seen you flustered,” he quips as he pauses, “you actually like-I don’t know it was just weird” he said and half heartedly shrugged as he looked back at the group that had begun to reform by the tent. 

“It’s complicated,” you said, knowing that the young adult in him would eat the drama up. Sure enough, he perked up.

“Yeah? What is it? You got an ex?” he said, nudging you.

But that was the problem. He wasn’t an ex. He wasn’t really an anything. He was a friend, sure, but friends also didn’t make out in the corners of parties as much as you two had. And friends didn’t stay up until sunrise testing each other for the upcoming exams every single finals week. And friends didn’t invite each other to spend weekends at their family vacation cabin alone. 

“No, no, no, just-” you tried to explain to no avail, not even knowing how to justify this to yourself, “okay maybe,”. Carter let out a low whistle.

“Hey if my ex showed up to work I’d be flipping the fuck out, you’re handling this really well,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. You chuckle at the kids joke.

“Sometimes it’s just nicer to see a familiar face, you’ll get it when you’re older,” you said, knowing hated when you pulled the you’ll understand when you’re older card. He rolled his eyes and groaned. 

Once the sun started setting you made your way back to the huddle that was forming of everything theorizing and laying out the evidence. Tomorrow would be busy in the office working to get everything categorized and bagged. You leaned up against your truck again, just like you did this morning, and pulled out another cigarette, flicking the lighter onto the end. You waved your team over and told them to head home for the night. You knew a lot of them had families at home, and you tried to be respectful of it all, even if you didn’t have your own. Some of the security officers watching the spot for the night stayed and mingled with the BAU team a ways away from you, and you settled your sights on the pink hue of the clouds as the sun lowered.

A familiar body moved next to you. You didn’t have to turn to know it was Aaron. You blew a cloud of smoke out the other side of your lips and stayed quiet, waiting for him to start. He had his hands jammed in his coat pockets, his shoulder grazing against yours. People used to laugh at the height difference back in university, and it had only gotten worse it seemed, or at least Aaron walked around with much more presence these days. You were leaning up against the front grate of your truck and felt Aaron slowly move his arm behind you, holding onto the grate on the other side of your hip. Feeling his arm behind you felt so familiar. 

“There’s Latin at the other scenes too,” he said, facing straight ahead into the sun.

“Shit,” you said as you slowly nodded, realizing that the scribbles would not just be nothing. There was a moment of silence before he broke it again.

“Do you hate me?” he asked, glancing down for a second, but long enough for you to meet eyes before you looked away.

“You know I could never hate you,” you said begrudgingly, knowing it was the truth. His arm got closer to your back at that and you leaned further onto it, “it’s really annoying honestly” you halfheartedly laughed. You heard him laugh under his breath. You swallowed your pride and leaned in, resting your head on the side of his torso, letting out another cloud to try and soothe your nerves. 

“It’s nice out here,” he said, looking out at the sunset still which had only gotten deeper pink and orange. 

“ ‘S quiet,” you agreed, “I don’t know how you do it in the big leagues,”. 

“You know you could’ve too,” he said, looking down. You stayed staring straight ahead.

“I’m not doing this argument again Aaron,” you said curtly, as you eyed him back. He shrugged and turned away again. 

“You know you could have that’s all,”. 

“You ever think I’m okay with it out here? You ever think I don’t need to kill myself over every case with the fate of the world hanging on it?” you said, raising your voice a little.

“I’m just saying you were one of the best and you could do a lot in the bureau,” he said back, “in the BAU,” he tested. You let out an angry air of smoke from your cigarette.

“Dammit Aaron don’t do this again,” you said, cutting him off before he can say anything else. You throw your cigarette onto the gravel and kick some rocks over the smoldering residue, “I’m happy here, can’t you just be okay with that?”. Aaron watched you and sighed and shifted in his spot, taking the second to move his hand from the car to your waist. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he said, and he meant it. You sighed.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to stay huh?” you asked, trying to joke, but inside you really did mean it earnestly. His thumb rubbed your side. It had been a while since you felt like this.

“I don’t think you’re able to,” he responded, sadness tinging his voice. The two of you stood, leaning into each other watching the sun finally dip behind the hills in the distance.

A few yards away Morgan stood on the phone, peeking around a car before ducking back. Garcia was not going to believe this shit.

[friendly-neighborhood-boricua]

[6] You Get A Visitor in the ER

Summary: You're working overtime when you get a visit from an unexpected someone who makes your shift just a bit less excruciating.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!single mom!reader.

A/N (26/7/2024): this is edited but still kinda short so I may come back to it at some point and add some things ... second to last chapter yay!

Previous Part: James Takes Liam to School Next Part: Kindergarten Graduation Series Masterlist here

About two weeks ago, you woke up in the middle of the night to a hard thump from Liam’s room

You were in his doorway in a flash, of course, because what if he’s dying

And tbh you were kinda close

Turns out he fell out of his bed and the lower right side of his abdomen was hurting really bad

You figured out pretty quick that he probably had appendicitis, which is definitely not ideal

So one rather tense ambulance ride and night in the ER and OR later, you wheeled Liam out of the hospital in a wheelchair so he wouldn't mess up his stitches too much after literally getting an organ removed

You texted James to let him know what happened and that Liam would be staying hope from school for a week to recover

(James had managed to give you his number under the guise of offering to drive Liam to and from school in the future and although you haven't had to ask or even use his number at all, he still has you as one of his pinned contacts)

(Sirius and Remus make fun of him for it)

(Your contact photo is actually a photo of Liam where he's smiling really big while mixing cookie dough for your birthday, which was about three months ago)

As always, James was totally sympathetic and understanding and even dropped by your apartment after school with work for Laim so he wouldn't fall too far behind

You took the week off from work to watch Liam, of course

But you're paying for it now bc your CNO super sucks and isn't understanding at all when it comes to your kid

So now he has you working a fucking double to make up for your missed days

Two 12-hour shifts in a row, 6AM to 6AM

Not fucking fun, dude

(Your CNO is the absolute worst—this is the one that James is pretty sure violates labor laws pretty consistently)

He actually wanted you to do three doubles over the next two weeks but Poppy (not the CNO, but she’s been a nurse at this hospital for time immemorial) told him off, so you only have to do the one today

And at the very least, it’s in the ER

Which isn’t terrible

Definitely not as bad as med-surg

I mean yeah, it can be stressful but it’s nowhere near as bad as medical dramas make it out to be, and it’s pretty rewarding most of the time

It’s a Friday, so Tonks watched Liam in the morning and took him to school, where Ms. Hope picked him up and held onto him for a couple hours until it was time for Ron's sleepover, which she then dropped him off at

So he’s safe and taken care of

And it’s been a pretty quiet night tbh

There was a big car crash during rush hour in the morning but beyond that, nothing super crazy or out of the ordinary

So now you’re on triage duty with Poppy (which just means you and her are hanging out and talking while waiting for something—anything—to happen)

Lily, one of the administrative aides that checks people into the ER, finally pokes her head into the ER at half past ten at night, and it’s rather urgent

Apparently someone’s cut their had pretty badly

You lose a rapid-fire game of rock paper scissors against Poppy, so it’s you that goes to evaluate the patient

But when you enter the ER fast track, you’re really quite surprised

"James?"

To be fair, James is also quite surprised to see you, it's just that he's more smiley and pleased than distressed

He’s hovering near one of the beds and has what seems to be a kitchen towel wrapped around his palm, which you now see has been bleeding quite profusely

You’re at his side embarrassingly quickly and asking him standard questions as he stares at you with a rather glassy look on his face

What happened? Cut my hand while cooking. Can you feel your hand? Um, yeah, it … it hurts pretty bad. Can you tell if it’s still bleeding? I can’t really, no. Do you feel lightheaded at all? Mm, yeah, just … just a bit. Did someone drive you here? Yeah, um, Sirius did … they told him to wait in the lobby.

James is in shock, that much is clear

You ease him to take a seat on the bed and quickly grab a couple forms, which you fill out as you continue asking him questions

Poor boy gets really concerned when you make for the door to the ER proper but ofc you reassure him you’ll be back in a second

You ask Poppy to get Dr. Longbottom before quickly returning to James

And James—Sweet Summer Child James—he's just asking you what you’re doing here so late, if Liam is at Ms. Hope’s, just random questions that aren’t super related to one another

He’s super out of it but you entertain his thoughts and answer whatever questions come to his mind as you ensure that his kitchen towel is applying a decent enough amount of pressure

Alice shows up pretty quickly with a suture tray and asks you to clean James’ cut as she gets ready, which you readily do

You also let her know that James isn’t exactly all there, to which she smiles amusedly and says she can see that lmao

James is kinda confused at first when Alice tries to take away the towel around his hand, but you gently explain what's happening and he understands pretty quick

He looks down at his hand when you finally uncover the cut (it’s long but clean—easy to stitch right up) and poor boy gets a little too light headed at the sight of all the blood that’s covering his hands and the kitchen towel and your latex-gloved hands

James just about falls over onto your shoulder lmaooooo

He doesn’t quite pass out, just like a severe wave of lightheadedness

You quickly encourage him off of your shoulder and you and Alice manage to lay him down on the hospital bed just so he won’t fall off of it and hurt himself if he does decide to pass out

The cut is easy to clean despite how bloody it is, and you round the bed to James’ opposite side as Alice prepares to administer the anesthetic and sew James’ hand up

This entire time, James has just been following your around with his eyes

He’s never gotten to see you work before and it’s really quite interesting to him

And he loves that you’re taking care of him (Such Gentle! Yay!)

Alice asks you to keep James talking and distracted while she sews him up and you happily obliged

It’s kinda hard to keep James talking though because he just keeps asking you questions

By the time Alice is finished with James’ hand, you’ve told him about Liam’s recovery, your shift so far, and how shitty your CNO is for making you work a double

James is much more lucid by the time his stitches are finished which is great because he was sort of starting to worry you

But he’s pretty much all there now :)

He’s also disclosed to you that he cut his hand while trying to take the pit out of an avocado, which you find absolutely hilarious even though you couldn’t really laugh at your own patient

Alice leaves you to wrap James’ hand in protective gauze and give him post-op care instructions

And James is honestly thrilled that your shift has been a quiet one

Because he’s sure that if anyone beyond you two were in the fast track, they would have seen clear as day how he looked at you while you wrapped some soft gauze firmly around his palm

He’s lucky though because you’re tired after working for about sixteen hours with eight still to go, so you don’t really notice the look in his eyes

You give him the normal spiel—wash around the area of the stitches with soap and water not hydrogen peroxide, put vaseline over it, wrap in a non-stick bandage, the works

By the time you’re done, James is just kinda staring at you

You tack on at the end that he can always text you or drop by your apartment to make sure he’s taking care of them correctly

Sirius leaps up from his chair in the lobby when he sees James finally come out of the ER

He was lowkey super worried bc he knows James is the slightest bit squeamish around blood

But now he’s also like super confused bc James is looking at his newly bandaged hand like it had the best compliment ever written on the palm

It’s only on the car ride home that Sirius finally weasels it out of James

Apparently Liam’s mom was working in the ER and she was the one who bandaged up his hand for him after he got stitched up

And apparently, when James was complaining lightly that his palm still hurt right as he was about to leave, she brushed a light kiss against his palm and whispered something to him about how kisses make everything better

Sirius practically has to pick his jaw up off the floor as he and James walked into the latter’s apartment, where Remus had apparently finished their rather bloody attempt at guacamole

And then of course he made James explain what happened to Remus, who just laughs and shakes his head

James’ only regret is that he was too stunned to do anything except wave goodbye as you left

Next Part: Kindergarten Graduation

[sage-lights]

met you at the right time (this is what it feels like)

word count: 2287 Their friends at Smosh were starting to take note of the way Amanda and Angela acted with one another, and it was confusing the heck out of them. Or Amanda and Angela are very happy as a "secret third thing."

Chanse didn’t know when it started, or if this was any different than how Amanda and Angela had always been. But he first took notice of it during an otherwise unremarkable lunch at the Smosh office.

As much as he loved working at Smosh, he had to admit the filming schedule was often brutal. Their call times were usually between eight and nine in the morning. But after a shoot went overtime earlier in the week, Selina had asked the cast to come in at seven today to compensate and ensure they filmed all the videos they had planned for this shooting block. This morning, he rushed through his usual routine, skipping breakfast with barely enough time to make it out the door.

All of this to say, Chanse was starving. It was all he could think about during the last “Try Not to Laugh.”

After what seemed like an eternity, it was finally time for their lunch break. The office had ordered deli sandwiches for everyone, and while Chanse was usually not one to turn down free food, there was a container of last night's leftovers in the fridge calling his name.

While waiting for his lunch to reheat in the microwave, he twirled around the kitchen a bit and checked what flavors of Celsius and La Croix were still stocked. He soon grew bored and leaned against the island counter, people-watching instead. From his position, Chanse had the perfect view to observe all his coworkers milling around the main meeting area.

Near the end of the long tables where the catering was set up, Chanse spotted Angela and Erin engaged in an animated discussion. Judging by Angela's comically shocked expression, he assumed it was about the insane Tinder message Erin had shown him that same morning. He chuckled—straight men are a whole other breed of crazy.

Erin and Angela arrived at a table near the mural at the back of the room where Amanda, Kiana, and Selina were already eating. As expected, Angela sat right next to Amanda—they might as well carry a “Reserved” sign with them everywhere to perpetually save the seat next to them.

The microwave behind him dinged, and Chanse grabbed his lunch before joining them.

“Hey, y’all!” Before Chanse even sat down, Erin swept him into the conversation.

“Oh, my God, Chanse! Remember the Tinder date I was telling you about?” He nodded, “I’ve got updates.”

“Already? Damn, it’s only been a couple of hours!”

“I told you, he’s. Insane.”

Angela scooted her chair back and stood, “Let me get a drink before you continue. Got a feeling you’re not even halfway through the story.”

“Yeah, you go do that,” Erin halfheartedly shooed Angela away, “Because I want you guys to be sat for this story!”

She returned to their table holding a drink in each hand and passed Amanda a grapefruit La Croix before cracking open her own berry-flavored Celsius. Amanda muttered a soft “thank you,” and Angela responded by gently patting Amanda’s leg. Throughout the whole exchange, they didn’t look at each other, didn’t acknowledge the strange act of domesticity. Like this was just considered the norm for them.

Chanse looked around, but no one else seemed fazed. He shook his head, wondering if anyone else had even noticed it.

Angela glanced over, and he caught her gaze, giving her a skeptical look. She stared at him, confused, before turning back to Erin.

He didn’t know what to think anymore.

This was something to file away for later. Angela was definitely getting questioned about it on the ride home.

—

Arasha knew she should be paying attention to the notes their director was reading. Especially since the live show was coming up so soon and the sitcom format they were trying to pull off had some very technically complex elements to it.

She tried for a while, her eyes flicking between her friends and the director. But she couldn’t focus on the director’s words when there was a much more interesting scene playing out in front of her.

She’d been squished between Amanda and Angela enough times to know they were naturally touchy people. Angela would randomly lean on her shoulder for brief moments, Amanda would place a hand on her leg while laughing, and Arasha often found herself playfully hitting her friends’ arms to emphasize certain parts of her stories.

However, Arasha sensed a difference between their general touchiness and whatever was happening with Amanda and Angela now. The intentionality of their movements set it apart; she knew they were both fully aware of their actions. She just wasn’t sure if they realized how differently others interpreted them.

Arasha tried again to focus on the director’s notes, but her eyes still drifted to the couch in front of her. The conversation about character choices and blocking faded into the background.

Amanda leaned against the armrest with Angela settled remarkably close to her. As their coworkers asked questions and pitched ideas back and forth, Arasha watched the two of them whisper amongst themselves. She remembered the way Angela and Amanda had shared a look during last week’s rehearsal, the silent communication that seemed almost intimate.

Now, watching them whisper and laugh together, Arasha felt her suspicions solidify. It was very reminiscent of how they were acting during Under the Mistletoe. Now that she thought about it more, she definitely should’ve clocked this behavior much earlier.

Maybe live shows just brought out something within them. Then again, Angela and Amanda have always been close, both figuratively and literally. But this time around, they didn’t have the guise of alcohol to hide their physical affection behind.

Angela reached over to the other side of the couch and grabbed the white chunky knit blanket, draping it over her and Amanda’s legs. She swung her feet onto the couch and tucked them underneath the blanket before leaning back into Amanda’s side. The taller woman sat up to wrap her left arm around Angela’s shoulders and pull her in impossibly close.

Here they are, the middle of the workday, cozied up with one another as if they were in the comfort of their own apartments.

They must know this isn’t how platonic friends act with one another, right?

—

Courtney didn’t make a habit of prying into other people's lives. They knew just how much all her friends and coworkers valued their privacy and it would be hypocritical for her to speculate considering how long their relationship with Shayne was kept private from their online audience.

But she couldn’t help the curiosity swirling in her mind as Amanda talked about a fan edit she watched recently.

They were sitting on the Smosh Mouth set, microphones in front of them on the wooden table, and cameras capturing every moment. Courtney watched Amanda as she described the edit, reenacting parts of it for them.

What was interesting, however, was that Amanda made a blatant request for more. And knowing their audience, Courtney was sure that Amanda would soon to be flooded with dozens of edits across Instagram and TikTok.

Sure, Courtney would concede that they had watched their fair share of edits—she remembered sitting in the old Defy office years ago reacting to them with Olivia. She might have also indirectly encouraged edits of herself and Shayne in an old SmoshCast episode. And plus, she would be remiss if she ignored the fact that they just made a comment about how all the girls on the cast look at each other with pure adoration and love.

But still, never had Courtney ever asked for edits of herself to be made. It got her thinking, to say the least.

As the podcast recording wrapped up, Courtney’s mind lingered on Amanda’s request. Casually, she brought it up again.

“So, about that edit you mentioned…” Courtney began, her tone light but inquisitive. Amanda’s eyes lit up, and she pulled out her phone  to it to show them.

Courtney knew you couldn’t trust everything you saw on the Internet. People could manipulate photos and videos to fit their narratives. But as she watched the edit of her close friends, she started to believe it too.

Observing Amanda rewatch the edit, Courtney saw a familiar look—soft eyes and a small smile. It was the exact expression Shayne had given them countless times.

Hm, there was definitely something more there.

—

The entire cast and crew were gathered at a karaoke bar now, drinking and singing their hearts out. Even after weeks of rehearsals and an hour and a half long live show, it seems that with this group, the urge to perform just never went away.

Courtney spotted her friends tucked away in a booth, and by the looks of it, Chanse and Arasha are arguing intensely over something. They slid in next to Arasha, lightly bumping her with their hip so she’d scoot over.

“Who’s winning?” they joked, taking a sip of their cocktail.

“Look at Amanda and Ang over there,” pointed Arasha, “They’re so in love and they don’t even know it.”

Chanse looked shocked, “You just said that you don’t think they’re going to get together!”

“Emphasize on the ‘they don’t even know it,’ Chanse!”

Courtney chimed in, “Give them some credit guys! I bet you they’re not as clueless as you think they are.”

“$10 says it’ll take them a months to realize they’ve got feelings for each other,” Chanse insisted.

Courtney scoffed, “five months, tops.”

“You guys forget,” Arasha cut in, “they’re both idiots. It’ll take them at least until end of the year, if not longer.”

“You’re insane!” exclaimed Courtney.

“What? Already doubting your prediction?” Arasha said with a cheeky grin.

“Nope.”

Chanse smirked, clearly scheming already. And the girls know that a scheming Chanse was a dangerous Chanse.

Courtney looked pointedly at him, “No interfering! If we’re doing this, we’re playing fair.”

“Fine,” huffed Chanse, “If we’re playing the long game, then I think we should up the stakes.”

Arasha laughed, “$20 good enough for you?”

“I’m thinking more like $25 from each loser.”

“Jeez, Chanse. We’re not made of money here!”

“It’s go big, or go home, Arash.”

If there’s one thing you need to know about the cast, it’s that they’ve all got a serious competitive streak. There’s no way any of them were backing down from a challenge.

“Okay, I’m in.”

Chanse looked over at Courtney, “You too?”

“Fuck it,” Courtney sticks their hand into the center and her two friends join, sealing the deal.

Courtney hoped that Amanda and Angela would figure out their feelings soon, for their own sake. Though selfishly, winning $50 from the whole ordeal wouldn’t be a bad bonus.

—

Shayne laughed when Courtney informed him of the bet they had going with Chanse and Arasha, and told his wife that that Arasha would likely end up winning the prize money.

He had gotten much closer to both Angela and Amanda over the past couple of years working together, and was immensely grateful that Smosh Mouth had given him the capacity to work with Amanda in a way he hadn’t had the chance to before.

Despite his extroverted on-screen persona, Shayne was much quieter in reality. He preferred to be a spectator rather than a participant. So, not to toot his own horn or anything, but Shayne thought he knew them pretty well by now.

Amanda was an open-book, though she wasn’t often vulnerable. She told crazy stories from her life before Smosh, grand tales of the otherworldly adventures she’d been on, and gives great advice when you ask her for some perspective.

But she often didn’t talk about her feelings. Amanda mentioned it off-handedly in Smosh Mouth episodes and conversations outside of work that she doesn’t like to let her personal life affect her ability to do her job properly. Shayne admired her in that manner, no one could ever claim Amanda was anything less than a true professional.

Angela was the complete opposite. Shayne related to her in the ways they were both private people, preferring to discuss their work or whatever TV show they had watched recently. He didn’t find small talk to be shallow, at least in this scenario where he’s not trying to seem cool to a stranger. Both of them just didn’t think to talk about themselves often.

What separated Angela from Shayne was her innate vulnerability. It was difficult to not wear your heart on your sleeve when you were as earnest a person as Angela was. Their coworkers liked to tease her occasionally for it—you couldn’t tell her anything without getting a shocked Pikachu face in return.

However, together, they balanced each other out nicely. When they were around one another, Shayne noticed how Amanda’s walls would slowly start to crumble away, and Angela got excited to recount the mundane details of her day.

Honestly, they seemed perfectly content just the way they are now. Something a little more than best friends, but a little less than lovers. And hey, if it works for them, who was he to tell their friends to act differently?

—

(Angela was scrolling through TikTok before bed with Spork happily curled up on her chest, petting him softly to lull him to sleep. Hopefully, this time, he won’t sneeze in my face after I’ve already exfoliated and moisturized, she thought to herself.

A video of a random girl lip syncing to a song she vaguely recognized popped up. The text above her read “yk your friendship is elite if people think you’re dating.”

Without missing a beat, Angela sent it to Amanda.

angela: literally us

amanda: HAHAHAHAH SO REAL

Angela smiled like an idiot to herself. God, she loves Amanda. So much.)

[lucy90712]

morning cuddles with João Felix?

A/n: this is short but I think it’s cute

WC: 1.2k Life recently has been so chaotic I have been doing so much overtime at work to finish a big project which thankfully is finally done. Joao has been really busy too with the crazy schedule of games at the start of the new season. We have been able to spend a bit of time together but it has mostly been meeting for dinner somewhere when we both have a few hours free. Don't get me wrong I love having dinner dates with Joao but what I've really been craving is just sitting at home and doing nothing with him as I know we are both so exhausted. Joao has a few days off this week as the team don't have a game for a little while but the last few days I've still had work so we still haven't seen much of each other although he has made dinner every night. I've been a little jealous of him having time off as I haven't truly had a day off in ages but finally I can actually take the weekend off after finishing my project. 

Knowing I'd have the weekend off I've been really looking forward to not being woken up by an alarm and getting to sleep in. Typically I woke up at the time my alarm would go off even though I hadn't set it my body is so used to the routine that I naturally woke up way too early for my liking. As I was about to turn over and go back to sleep I felt Joao's arm move from where it was rested around my waist up to my face where he gently stroked my cheek and moved some of my hair that had gone astray over night. I turned to face him just as he opened his eyes slightly although I could tell he was still a little delirious as he kept blinking to clear his vision. 

"What are you doing awake you should be sleeping in" Joao said in his morning voice 

"I just woke up my body is so used to getting up at this time I just woke up naturally" I said 

"Well let's go back to sleep you deserve it plus I want to cuddle with you for once" he said 

"I can't say not to more sleep and cuddles" I smiled 

Joao was quick to pull me as close as humanly possible and wrap his arms around me so tightly I nearly couldn't breathe. Some people would hate to cuddle like that but I love to have Joao as close as possible as we have to be apart quite often so having him close it me always feels so comforting. My head nuzzled itself into Joao's neck as it was comfy and I found myself playing the the hair on the back of his neck and head which was so soft and slightly wavy from where he'd slept on it. He gently traced shapes on my side until my eyes started to feel heavy and I drifted back off to sleep.

I was sleeping peacefully until I felt something wet all over my face in my sleep which woke me up. For a second I wondered if Floki had made his way into our bedroom but then I decided that it couldn't be as he always runs about and stands on me on in the mornings and there wasn't enough noise either. As my eyes opened I was met with Joao's face right in front of mine pressing a kiss on my nose. Once he realised that I was awake he got more aggressive with his kisses all over my face which made me giggle but then he started tickling me instead which made me laugh even harder. He knows exactly where I'm the most ticklish so of course he had to focus on those spots and tickle me until I was gasping for air. Eventually he did stop and when he did he flopped down on top of me so I used my chance to tickle him as although he says he's not ticklish he definitely is. 

Once we had both stopped our assaults on each other we just laid down together with Joao resting on top of me while I played with his hair. Playing with Joao's hair is one of my favourite past times I love running my hands through it and scratching his head sometimes I put his hair up in different styles too but he often complains that it hurts when I do that. This morning I couldn't resist braiding the few stray strands of Joao's hair; for once he actually let me as he was too distracted playing with the edge of his shirt that I wore to bed. 

"I don't ever want to move from this position" Joao said 

"I'm happy to stay here for the rest of the day" I said

"Good because you're not going anywhere" he laughed holding me tighter 

"What do you think our lives will be like in 5 years?" Joao randomly asked 

"I don't know so much has changed over the last year that I would've never predicted but I'd like for us to have settled somewhere" I said 

"I hope we stay here I really love it here the city and the team are so great but whatever happens as long as you're with me I know everything will be ok" he said 

"What do you think our relationship will be like then?" I asked 

"I'd love for us to be married and thinking about starting a family but that's only if that's what you want" he said 

"I'd love to get married and have kids with you one day when the time is right" I said so he didn't get any ides just yet 

"I'll wait as long as you need amor until then we can just practice" he said 

That earned Joao a slap on the back of the head but he just laughed and continued to talk about life. We discussed loads of things like my ideal proposal, how our wedding would be and how many kids we would like. It was fun talking about the future with Joao, although we've talked about all of this before that was before all of the changes to our lives and things are different now plus we are older so it's good to know we are still on the same page. After talking about all of those serious topics we moved on to talking about what we are going to do with the rest of today and tomorrow as those are the only days we both have off. Both of us wanted at least one lazy day so we decided seeing as we'd spent a while in bed already today would be our day to relax. 

After a while of cuddling together watching tv Joao randomly got out of bed and went downstairs. I wondered where he had gone and why until he came back upstairs holding a tray of pastries and two plates. He had ordered breakfast for us from my favourite bakery in town which we both very much enjoyed in bed. When we were done we went right back to cuddling. I think this has been my favourite day in a long time as I've missed spending time with Joao so getting to do nothing but soak up the cuddles I've missed out on is exactly what I've been craving. 

[milogreer]

really wanna write rn so help me choooose

no promises it’ll get done ‘cause, you know… life… but i wanna be able to at least try to focus in on one. i miss writing 😔

also some little snippets of each one that might help y’all decide 🤭

shaw pack scaredy cats

“You wanna what?”

“It’s not that big a deal, I do it all the time.”

Milo looks at them like they’ve gone crazy. “Tank, if my Ma finds out I snuck into an R-rated movie, I’ll be six feet under before you can even blink.”

“You just don’t wanna watch the movie ‘cause you know you’ll chicken out first.”

“And you just don’t know the kinda hell Marie Greer can rain down on you. She’s scarier than any movie.”

Tank rolls their eyes. “Then it’s your turn to ask David for a movie. I did it last time and he spent ten minutes chewing me out about how his copy of Alien had dried pizza sauce on the back cover.”

“Maybe if you didn’t eat like you were raised in a barn-”

“Don’t be mad at me just ‘cause you chickened out when you thought the cat was gonna die-”

“Hey, that is a very reasonable response!”

Tank laughs, dispelling any further argument. “Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll talk to David, see if he can pull a movie for this weekend.”

the morning after

Blake stirs, mumbling something incoherent as he buries himself further into the duvet, and Bestie stills their hand from looping a lock of his hair around their index finger. When he doesn’t say anything further, they continue, touch feather-light.

Another quiet moment passes before Blake sniffles, nudges his head up into their hand, and manages a slurred, “S’wrong?”

“Nothing,” they whisper, switching to run their hand through his hair, curls soft beneath their fingers, willing him to fall back asleep. “Sorry for waking you up.”

He grunts dismissively, peeking open one eye. “What time is it?”

They pause. It’s just barely four in the morning - they’d only slept two hours before being unwillingly and inexplicably dragged out of the depths of sleep. He’ll worry if they tell him the time.

“Early.”

As expected, Blake’s brows furrow. “How early?”

“It’s fine,” they say reassuringly. “I haven’t been up long. I was just thinking.”

A pause. The air feels heavy all of a sudden. When Blake speaks, his voice is low.

“…Can I ask what about?”

working overtime

“And I was supposed to be free tonight, I was right on track to get all my stuff done, but- but then a professor from down the hall had a family emergency and so she wasn’t going to be able to finish the banner for the rally at the end of the week, so she asked me to do it and I, I, I mean, I couldn’t say no, you know?” Lasko pauses very briefly to suck in a breath. “I would’ve felt so bad because she put in a lot of work and to, to not have her project done and displayed is a shame, I mean, I know she was really excited for it, so if I can finish it for her, then I want to, I just,” he expels an exasperated breath, “I wish it wasn’t at the expense of our date night. I-It’s been a while since we were able to actually go out together, I’m so sorry I can’t make it, I know I said it already, but-”

Dear catches his hand as he paces by where they’re sitting on his desktop, nervous hands flitting through the air as he speaks, then brings it to their lips to place a gentle kiss on his knuckles. Taken off-guard, Lasko goes quiet and still, his rambling tapering off with a soft oh.

“It’s alright, Lasko. I’m not upset.”

Big pleading eyes blink at them from behind his glasses. “Really?”

“Really. It’s sweet of you to want to finish her project for her.” They tug him closer to stand between their legs, looping their arms loosely around his neck and taking great satisfaction in the flush that immediately consumes his cheeks. “Did she leave instructions for you?”

His voice is pitched a touch higher when he responds, “Mhm.” Then he clears his throat, the initial embarrassment ebbing, and says, “She’s very, um… detailed. I hope it doesn’t take too long, but.” He makes an uncertain sound.

sweetheart’s first pack party

They gratefully accept the wine glass he offers, clutching it like a lifeline.

The hand on their hip tugs them a bit closer to him. “Don’t look so nervous, sweetheart. Might be a room full a’ wolves, but no one’s gonna bite.” He leans away slightly, taking a purposefully long moment to check them out, gaze dragging slowly down and then back up their body. Their heart flutters at the sly grin that paints his face. “Well, one of them might. But he’ll ask first.”

Sweetheart exhales a wavering laugh, rolling their eyes and turning their flushing face away.

“Is it that obvious?”

His smirk turns into a slight grimace. “Ash says you’ve got your investigator face on and it’s freakin’ him out a little.”

This time their exhale is a sigh, an attempt to expel some of the anxious energy trapped in their chest that buzzes like a beehive. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to parties like this. My family never did Solstice parties and even if they did, I think this would still be nerve-wracking because…” They falter, nails tapping their glass. “I mean. You know. This is my first one and, I don’t know, David and Asher have always been nice to me-”

sweetheart’s will likely be the only one that gets an actual name bc i have an OC for them more than anyone else, though i’m working on bestie atm so they might get a name too :)

[sulphuricgrin]

Gonna talk about my year and how I think I'm in a more optimistic place compared to last December. Warning: mental health, mentions of self-harm but not elaborating how, mention of previous attempt but not mentioning how. ramblings of a person who wants this outta their head.

i'm bewildered by how I got to where I am now

Let me start off with the fact that September-December 2023 was a low point. Heavy anxiety, long manic episode, taking lots of overtime, being the best in my little department but my manager refusing to do a yearly review, and a relationship I didn't know how to end led to a severe anxiety attack.

I took a month off work to work with my psychiatrist on my medication. Within two hours of my first day back, my coworker triggered my C-PTSD. Unable to flee, can't fight, I do the only thing to control my emotions - self harm. Long story short, HR notices and sends me to the hospital. I'm sent back out of work and start a partial program.

I've done this before in 2011. I do my best at the program, stayed there for a month. We change up my medication. They help me find a therapist for when I finish the program. I had some hang ups with the program. Music therapy would make me want to harm myself. I told my case worker the truth and they told me I can leave those sessions when I want.

I hate positive affirmations. I won't use examples because they're valid to other people and I don't want to be negative to what might help others. To me they always felt hollow, insipid, childish. It never clicked, no matter at what age I tried it.

I've mentioned several times that I like philosophy. During the program, I brought with me Medications by Marcus Aurelius to read during lunch or the few minutes between sessions. Quotes on stoicism became my positive affirmations in sessions.

"The happiness of you life depends upon the quality of your thoughts."

"You have power over your mind - not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength."

"Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth."

Anyways, I got better, or so I thought. The day I "graduated" as I drove home, my mom told me my dad finally died. That's a complicated situation, with complicated emotions. Anyways, I spiraled. Self-harm and isolation. By the end of the week, I was forced into inpatient.

Inpatient was immensely worthless, except for one bit. My whole ward was shut down because of fucking Covid. So you were stuck in your shared room with your roommate, no sessions, no walking around. Little stimulation. The longest 3 days of my life. I've done inpatient 2 times before, 2012 and 2017 (for suicide attempt then), so I know 72 hrs is the minimum and that as long as I'm not a risk I can leave. Thank fuck my mom was able to give me a philosophy book to read. And that I was able to get access to a pencil that I had to return at the end of the day, so I could draw (and not with crayons). I did start writing for Fate-Touched when I was in the ward.

Anyways, they helped figure out with blood tests that my Tegretol and Seroquel interact. Therefore my Seroquel has to be doubled. And they put me on Gabapentin for anxiety. I can safely say it's helping now a year later, besides upping the dosages about 3 times since. I occasionally see my therapist who's pagan. First therapist I've ever clicked with, one who believes my feelings are valid, one who doesn't think I'll change my mind about children in the future. I'd see her more often if I didn't have to pay out of pocket. But she's noticed my improvement.

a year later, I am single and happier

a year later, I work for myself. While I'm not crazy about that, it's proving to be healthier. (I didn't quit my job. they illegally fired me over my disability. Yes, I've suing)

a year later, I'm back to being creative. Similar to the levels back in 2013 and before. People are even buying my art?!

a year later, I have people I can call friends (I'm genuinely trying not to cry writing this- never mind, I'm crying)

a year later, I'm living more in the present.

it's not all perfect. I try not to think about the near distant future. I try not to think about the existential dread. But I'm trying. And it gets better.

“What we do now echoes in eternity.”

[theknightmarket]

Act 1 | Scene 5 - Pick Your Poison

The last week had been weird.

Since meeting Illinois, the bar had been strangely active. That wasn’t to say it had never been busy before – in fact, it was picking up the kind of reputation that you wanted. Some classy establishment that you could go to for a calm and pleasant drink, where the music was slow and the service was quick. Except now, you were thinking it was working a little too well. 

There seemed to be the same crowd, day in and day out. You liked having regulars, but this was excessive. Unless you were going crazy. Maybe you were simply losing it. The pressure had gotten to you, and you were stuck hallucinating the same people over and over again, saying the same things and ordering the same drinks and arriving and leaving at the same time, and…

And taking a deep breath sounded like a good plan. So, gently, you inhaled, exhaled, and listened to the Vera Lynn record that played from the jukebox.

‘We’ll meet again’.

This job was stressful when everything rested solely on your shoulders, but you didn’t know how much it would help to get more hands on deck. Was it selfish that you wanted to keep the Astral to yourself? It was your prized, well, everything. The thought of someone else being behind the bar left a sour taste in your mouth.

However, the most likely reason as to your bout of delirium was the stress. You just had to remind yourself that everything was completely normal, and there was nothing at all to worry about. That mantra got you through the Friday night, when there should have been an influx of people, but that was fine. Unexpected, but fine. Obviously, it was just an off day. Tomorrow would be busy; you knew that for sure.

So why did the little voice in the back of your mind whisper that it wouldn’t be?

You used shutting up shop as a way to ignore your doubts. You wiped down the tables that no longer had people at them, restocked the straws and the small container of umbrellas, and you managed to clean a good majority of the glasses that were left in the sink – but none of this helped you when you were doing the exact same things that you had been doing for the last week. The same splatters of vodka melding with the varnish, the same amount of missing stock, the same chip in the third highball that you had to throw away. It clattered in the trash can, which you swore you had emptied the night before.

‘Don’t know where’.

You could feel your breath quickening once more.

‘Don’t know when’.

You didn’t know what to do. Ideas were rushing through your mind, too quick to catch, too slow to ignore. What were you supposed to do? Was this really happening? How could it be happening? What were you supposed to do? Nobody told you what to do when everything was repeating, and there wasn’t a guidebook or etiquette or emergency protocol. Vision blurring, you felt like you were going to keel over. Deep breaths. You tried to remind yourself of that mantra again, but it was no use. You were stuck. Panicking. Flailing. Drowning.

And then it all cleared when the door burst open.

Good, that was what you needed. A distraction. Doing your job seemed as good as any.

You snapped to your senses, like a soldier called to attention, from that eye-catching entrance of a new figure. The sight of your face appeared in the counter’s reflection, but it looked no different that it normally did. Although you knew on the inside that you had been on the brink of falling off a cliff, your exterior showed no such worries. Just a normal bartender in a normal bar.

‘But I know we’ll meet again’. 

Before you could round the counter, however, a thought occurred to you; it was nearing 2 o’clock, the time you would usually kick everyone out. The sleepers, the drunks, and, once or twice, Wilford. Letting another patron in now would mean half an hour, probably more, before you could get them out again. You wouldn’t be paying anyone an overtime wage, but the weight of your mini freakout wasn’t getting any lighter on your shoulders. If the person had a group with them, you would have been more inclined to let them stay, but it wasn’t as though they were bound to order a lot of drinks, chug them, and then bounce. All of the evidence pointed to kicking them, and the two other people in a corner booth, out. Plain and simple.

But – and you thought this with the kindest sentiment you could muster – they looked an utter wreck, and you didn’t trust yourself not to immediately call them back inside if you did give them the boot.

That left the logical part of your brain glaring daggers into the emotional side as you went to take their order at their booth.

“Good morning, sir.”

‘Some sunny day’.

Although, it seemed your internal battle was unnecessary. He’d buried his head in his arms, leaned against the table and dead to the world around him, and he stayed that way while you spoke. Considering the manner in which he had arrived, specifically shoving your door open so violently that you wondered if there were splinters, the thought that he was genuinely dead did cross your mind.

You decided to shake his shoulder.

“What’s the problem!?”

You immediately retracted your hand and stepped back, breath catching in your throat. You weren’t expecting such a volatile reaction. His eyes were just as wide as yours, but you were stuck staring at him while his pupils shot across the whites like they were being chased by the red edges. He looked worse up close. Before, you had thought he was just some poor night shift worker who had been running off fumes for the last day. Now that you were eye to eye, though? You didn’t think he even had fumes, just a few weak puffs of smoke out of a dying furnace.

You put on a brave face to say, “You need to order something, or you’ll have to leave. We stop serving in ten minutes.”

It was then that he realized himself. There was a sudden sense of self sparking where there had been a manic derangement. He looked to the left, then to the right, and then settled back in his chair.

‘Keep smiling through’.

“I’m so- I’m sorry, I’ve been… ugh, it’s been a hard day.” Had you not been wary of getting your hand snapped off, you would have patted him on the back; the calm he developed was quickly exchanged for a disconcerting laugh. “Can you call it a day if it feels like it’s been a week? If- if it doesn’t just feel like it, it actually has been?”

This was a mistake. In your own insanity, you had accidentally welcomed another insane person into your bar. You should have just taken the easy out and went to sleep, but the one time you tried to be generous, it backfired on you.

He was still talking, but it had progressed into mutterings that were directed at no one in particular. “You know, it’s hard to keep track of stuff like that,” he addressed the varnish of the table, “because the clocks go back, too, so has it been a day, or has it been less or- or more?”

You were about to step away when his gaze shot back to yours, but that wasn’t the worst part – it was the grin stretched from ear to ear. It wavered as he spoke, a string pulled tight enough for the smallest strands to start separating, threatening to snap, pulling and pulling. “When do you think it’ll reset, huh?”

‘Just like you always do’.

“I’m not sure I follow,” you responded. The shake was out of your voice but the wariness was not.

“No, no, you wouldn’t.” He waved a hand through the air, mimicking a casual chat about the weather. “But if you had to guess.”

Okay, now was the time to think. This man, who seemed to be on the brink of madness or had already fallen off, was asking you when time would reset. That was easy to accept because he was sitting in front of you, his words fresh in your mind. The harder part came with accepting that you knew what to answer with. All the repeating patrons, drinks, that damn Vera Lynn music playing in the background. You could have told him that you didn’t know what he was talking about, but you would have been lying. At this point, was there a reason to not give him the truth?

“Well, sir,” you started after clearing your throat, “it’s been fairly the same in recent days. I’d only be aware of it if it happened after twelve hours or so.”

He didn’t react how you imagined he would. He didn’t startle or flourish or show a hint of interest. Instead, he chuckled. A scoff, as if he were entertaining a child’s imagination.

“Oh, yeah, what’s the same then?”

“The orders, the arguments—” You waved a hand in the air, “—this song has been playing non-stop today.”

‘’Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds’.

The collective voice of the soldiers cut through like an axe striking a board. It similarly cut through his expression of manic nonchalance and gave way to a very specific expression. Hesitance, amusement, hope. He wanted to believe you, but something was holding him back.

“You noticed that?” he asked, his tone of voice soft and his eyes holding a sense of the present that he lacked before.

“Should I not have?”

“No, no, I just—” He cut himself off with a crash as he slammed his fist into the table, “—wait, no! No, you shouldn’t have. Why do you remember?” That fist started to clench. “Who are you?” And he lost the awareness again. “Do you remember anything more dangerous, in the realm of life-threatening?”

This was getting ridiculous. You felt the hairs raise on your skin and a chill drip down your spin, but you tried your hardest to ignore them. You pushed the dread to the side in favor of saving face.

“Not particularly, no,” you answered. It didn’t seem to help him, though; he was glaring around the bar, as if he were looking for some kind of spy, but your assurance that there was none was sure to do him no good. A simpler offer, then. 

“Do you want a glass of water?”

“No, I need to figure this out.”

You were unceremoniously yanked into the seat next to them, and your heartrate immediately sped up to unsafe levels. Your clothes under his hands scrunched together so much that the rest was completely flat up to where he had his grip fixed into a deadbolt. He seemed to pay no mind to the position he had put you in, but the other couple still in the corner of the bar spared you a curious look before returning to their conversation. Helpful.

“When you say that the orders and arguments have been the same, what exactly do you mean?”

‘Far away’.

Gently, you pulled his wrists back into his own lap. You were going to have no one grabbing you without asking – even if they were obviously going through the wringer – and that gently was the most leeway you were willing to give him.

He stayed completely silent as you removed his hands, but his eyebrows furrowed and a noise of confusion came from deep in his throat. He must not have noticed.

“They’re not perfectly the same,” you admitted, “but each of the patrons have been appearing here at the same time for the last three days. They get the same base drink with a small change. Lemon or lime, with or without ice, dirty or neat, whatever it is, it’s only slightly different. Then they drink, have the same topic of conversation and then leave at the same time.”

“While Vera Lynn plays in the background?”

“That’s only started this morning, except it’s one of the only jazz records I own.”

So far, you had seen a range of expressions from this stranger. In the last ten minutes, he had sported fatigue, amusement, desperation, and a constant wash of mild insanity. The only thing that had gotten you truly worried for your safety was being pulled close to him. Now? You were paralyzed by an emotion that glinted in his eyes.

Absolute enthusiasm.

‘So will you, please, say hello’.

His growing smile gave it away further, if his words didn’t. “And you remember all of this?”

“Would I be telling you if I didn’t?”

“This is great!” He punched into the air comically. “Well, not great for you, the whole looping thing, it could end horribly. But it’s great that you remember.”

While you were happy for his little revelation, you remembered something else. You still had those other two people to take care of, and it seemed from their glances towards the bar that they were getting ready to pay and leave.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve realized what’s going on, but I need to—”

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry, I just need you for a little longer.” To his credit, he kept his hands right where they were, despite him leaning forward like he was going to grab you again. As a thanks, you nodded for him to continue, though you kept one eye on the other patrons. 

His smile lessened in extremity, but it was still genuine. “I mean, I don’t understand,” he continued, “why here, why you? It is looping so you’re not unaffected, but you remember.”

You yourself were stuck on that, too. You weren’t anything special, no matter how many people had tried to butter you up by saying that you were. Maybe it was just luck? A right-place, right-time deal, wherein you had nothing to do with the chance that you remembered. It was very much in the cards that it was a fluke.

But then you thought about the last few weeks as a whole. That was all random, just the same as this thing was. Meeting Illinois, Yancy, Dark, and… well, you supposed that, really, Wilford was the only one to actually be random. His choosing of your bar was a stroke of luck that led to the others finding you. And, to put it simply, Wilford was weird. Not shy, awkward kid in the back of the class weird – genuine weird. He talked about the laws of space and time like they were nothing but suggestions, he acted like he was straight out of the 1980s, and, half the time, he was sitting at the bar before you had heard the door open.

‘To the folks that I know?’.

You took in a deep breath and then tentatively asked, “This doesn’t have anything to do with Wilford, does it?”

Your suspicions were confirmed when he responded with a, “Wilford?” that showed both confusion and familiarity. 

You held back a groan as he twisted his head like an owl to look around the bar. This time, he wasn’t trying to sparce the face of a secret detective from the wallpaper, he was actually looking.

“The Astral?” he asked when he turned back to you.

‘Tell them I won’t be long’.

At this point, you had half a mind to put out a neon sign in the middle of the room, add some arrows pointing at it and a little trail of petals so that people would actually realize where they were – and what did that say of their survival instincts? Apparently, it was a trait of those who all looked like the same guy to not know where they’re walking. You were certain that some of them had died since you had last seen them. Most likely Illinois.

Instead of indulging in that depressing thought, you sighed, “Do none of you read signs before you walk through a door?”

“In my defense, I was really out of it – but that does explain it.”

“How so?”

He pursed his lips and started tapping at the table. “Wilford’s always been—” He made an odd hand gesture, “—…odd. He isn’t affected by the loops. Dark isn’t either, you’ve met him, right?”

“Yancy and Illinois, too.”

‘They’re much better.” Nodding to himself, he sat back into the leather of the booth. Now that he had apparently solved the dilemma he was going through, he was much more relaxed. Not more energized – of course not, he looked like he’d been dragged through hell backwards – but he wasn’t on the edge of plummeting into complete madness, and you took that as a win.

After looking him over, you replied, “You’re not so bad yourself, even if you’re a bit stressed.”

‘They’ll be happy to know’.

And there came a more normal smile. More appealing, you thought, than the ones from before. Less unnerving, too. This suited your first assumption, the one of him being an overtired night-shift worker.

With a huff, he wiped his eyes and then extended one of his hands towards you. The minimal gap between you made it difficult, but leaning back let you shake it.

“I’m the Engineer,” he introduced himself, with a sense of formality you would have never expected, “people have been calling me Engie – you’re free to, as well, if you want.”

Weird name, but at this point, was it anything out of the ordinary? 

‘That as you saw me go’.

You shook his hand once, twice, and then let go. It was practiced to the point of a formula, but you had no problem following the pattern. You’d done it so many times before, regardless of who initiated it. This was the first time it was done sitting down in a bar that you owned, though, so you gave it a little more weight.

When Engie let go, he chuckled quietly. “I might take you up on that water.”

You nodded in return and were finally able to slide out from the booth. You spent such little time sitting down normally that your legs felt stiff when you stood up. Stretching would have been unprofessional, especially as the other couple’s faces lit up at the sight of you. You answered their wave with another nod and quickly went to fetch their bill first.

A couple minutes passed, during which they paid, left a tip, and left.

And then there were two.

Technically, you should have closed half an hour ago, but a water still cost money and you didn’t particularly want to force Engie out on the street. You still believed him – well, two-thirds of you did. The other part thought he was insane, and you were insane and this whole situation was insane, but you returned to your patron with the glass of water.

‘I was singing this song’.

“Thank you,” he said, handing you a dollar note. You didn’t remember if he stepped on the plank, but you weren’t going to risk asking if he did. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s my job.”

You were about to twist on your heel and get back behind the bar to finish clearing up, but you were stopped by his voice, tone growing embarrassed. He looked just as red as he sounded.

“I wasn’t talking about the drink, I mean… most people would have kicked me out already. I- just, thank you.”

The flustered smile was charming, you’d give him that, but a thought occurred to you before you could comment on it.

“Do you want to do me a favor? Just so we’re even.”

His eyes widened but he jumped on the opportunity all the same. “Of course, what do you need?”

Out of your dress shirt’s pocket, you retrieved a smoothened five-dollar bill and placed it on the table. Engie was understandably confused, so you explained, “Wilford keeps walking out before I can give it to him. If he’s not going to step on the plank, he’s not going to pay extra.”

With the hesitance of a man who did not know what the plank was, he took it and replied, “I’ll pass it along to him.”

“Thank you.” But now that the deal was done, you had something else to address. “Are you feeling better?”

He laughed to himself again and the blush didn’t recede. If anything, it got stronger the more he thought about his arrival. “Yeah, I guess I made a fool of myself there, huh?”

Both of you knew you were lying as you said, “Not at all.” Still, you added on, “You’re better than a lot of people I’ve had in here.” That part wasn’t as untrue as the former, if only because the faint outline of that bruise on your jaw still greeted you every morning in the mirror. Whatever ‘looping’ situation this had been hadn’t done it any good.

That reminded you of the time. Hopefully you would actually wake up the next day after the night you’d had. 

“But it is getting late,” you prompted. Telling someone to bluntly get out wasn’t good for business, and Engie was nice.

Luckily, he got the hint. “Oh- oh, yeah, I get it. I’ll just…” He pushed away from the leather and stumbled out of the booth. “Thanks for the water, and I’ll see you later?”

It was awkward watching him try to recover from his fumbling, so you filled the silence with, “Don’t get hit by a car on your way out, or anything else in the realm of life-threatening.”

You were treated to a final, louder laugh as he walked towards the front door. You followed to lock the door when he was out, but he turned around to call, “See ya!” before he let it fall shut behind him.

‘We’ll meet again’. 

You were left alone in the Astral, at 3:17 in the morning, having met another of that strange group who all had different aesthetics but looked completely the same. 

‘Don’t know where, don’t know when’.

It was annoying not knowing what was going on. 

‘But I know we’ll meet again’.

It wasn’t scary, wasn’t concerning, you were just plain aggravated because you were getting closer and closer to this, regardless of whether you wanted to. However, you knew one thing for certain; if you were going to get wrapped up in all of this, then you were going to get some answers.

‘Some sunny day’.

And you knew just where to get them from.

AO3 Link - List

[fordchen]

My forever bestfriend

I shed a few tears writing this. I hope you like it!

It had been a long day at the Mid-Wilshire police station. Lucy had recently received a Golden Ticket and after a few days, she chose to become a detective in the Juvenile Division after realizing that undercover work wasn’t made for her. Ever since dating Tim, undercover work stopped making sense to her. The Juvenile Division made perfect sense for her because of what some coworkers had deemed her superpower — her empathy.

Yet, it had been a draining day. She faced hard cases after the other and after days of doing overtime, she needed some time alone. She texted Tim to let her know she had to make a stop before coming back home before she headed to the cemetery. She slowly walked through the cemetery until she reached Jackson’s headstone. She smiled weakly as she sat down, tears immediately falling down her face. It had been a long time since her last visit. Work had been so busy that she never found the time to visit her best friend. It had been 5 years since Jackson’s death, yet it still felt like yesterday. She could still hear his voice at times or picture his reactions in certain situations. Saying she misses him would be an understatement. Life was unfair. “Hey Jackson.” Lucy said as she wiped her tears away, staring at his name and the fresh flowers in front of her. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited in a while. Work has been insane. I actually got a golden ticket recently and became a Detective in the Juvenile Division. It’s been a lot but I am very happy. I know I said for the longest time that I wanted to become an undercover cop but it didn’t make sense, Jackson. I can’t do that to Tim, and it’s honestly too dangerous.” She said, letting out a sigh. She swore that she could sense his presence and closed her eyes for a few seconds, embracing the silence. “Speaking of Tim, we got engaged last weekend. I know you weren’t too far, I sensed your presence and made the moment even more special. He is my everything. I know that you would tease me, and you would be absolutely right! Can you remember how much I complained about him during our rookie year? and how he absolutely drove me crazy?” She let out a wet giggle. “He is the love of my life and my biggest supporter. He has grown so much since I have met him and I am sure you would absolutely love him. I… I actually am keeping a little secret and I wanted you to be the first to know.” She said as she placed a hand on her small stomach bump. “I found out I was pregnant today. I had been sick for a few days and didn’t think much of it, yet after talking to Angela, I decided that maybe taking a test would be worth it and it definitely was. I can’t wait to tell Tim. He has been waiting for this moment for so long… Other than that, everyone is doing well. Baby Jackson is turning 5 in a few weeks and I’m in charge of organizing his birthday party. Angela and Wesley have faced some hardships lately, struggling to deal with their jobs and kids but they figured it out. Your parents have been amazing and become my parents in some way… We constantly talk about you, your dad is retiring soon. He realized how precious life is and that he wants to enjoy every second possible. I think I’m going to ask your dad to walk me down the aisle since my parents rejected me.”

It slowly became darker outside as the sun was setting. She felt her phone buzz as Tim texted her to check if she was okay. She knew she had to get going and got up, not really wanting to leave. “I miss you, Jackson. It has been really hard recently… I’m going through every life event we once dreamed about together and it has hit me all at once. You should be here with us, life is unfair. I forget your voice sometimes and have to listen to videos for hours to make sure I won’t forget it again. I love you and I promise I will visit you soon okay?” She put a hand on his headstone and gave it a weak smile before she suddenly felt two arms wrapped around her from behind. She immediately relaxed, knowing it was Tim. Tim placed a kiss on her head as he held her close to him, rocking her gently to soothe her. “Come on baby, let’s get you home. It’s been a long day. See you soon, Jackson.” He whispered before walking with her to his truck.

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Joe Velasco: Magic Carpet Ride  

There is now a second part to this Disclosure. Both can be read as standalones.

You drop onto the couch with a huff. Exhaustion was the only emotion you could feel, echoing up your body from your toes in harsh waves. You had been working overtime at the forensic lab since you started there almost eight months ago. The scandal and retesting of forensic evidence for the last two years of narcotics and some homicide cases that involved Narcotics was almost over. Five people had been fired and prosecuted, turning on their outside accomplices, leading to big arrests. There was talk of IPB leaving soon and letting the lab get back to having its own autonomy. Not that you had ever experienced that at this lab. You had come to help following the breaking of the scandal. The stress and micromanagement had been so much that you wondered if you were crazy for accepting and then continuing to stay. But finally, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. 

“More over time?” Joe looked up from the files that he had spread over the coffee table. You groaned in response leaning back onto the couch and dropping your bag on the floor. After late night shifts you had gotten into the habit of stopping and subsequently staying the night at Joe’s house. You both often used the excuse that his apartment was just closer to the precinct and therefore more convenient. You had been doing this, non-defined, label-less relationship for just shy of five months. 

“I just feel like I can’t say no. The money and experience, it’s too good to pass up.” Joe hummed while taking a sip of his beer, analyzing your slumped form on his couch. You had yet to take off your coat or shoes and he could feel the exhaustion radiating from you. The tap of the bottle being placed back on the coffee table was the only warning you got before your legs were swung up into his lap. He unzips your boots and pulls them off setting them down neatly on the floor. His strong hands start rubbing your feet.  

“You need to learn. You’re going to burn yourself out at the rate you're going.” His hands are talented, and you lean further back against the arm of the chair.  

“If you weren’t being so nice to me, I would point out that you were up doing paperwork. But since you are, I’ll just smile and say you're right.” He paused his ministrations. 

“Really?” He was surprised that you gave in so easily. You were headstrong and liked to argue just for the sake of it sometimes. He hadn’t expected such an easy win.  

“Yeah, I’m starting to feel the effects of working so much.” His hands started moving up your calves stroking them absentmindedly. “I was thinking about it today actually. You know I’ve lived in New York for almost a year, and I haven’t even seen the touristy places. I’ve been talking about going to Coney Island since I moved here and I’m not closer to going than I was when I lived ten and half hours away.” You sigh before shaking your head at yourself. The idea that has been flashing through your mind won’t settle. “I’m going to use a sick day tomorrow. I just don’t think I have it in me to go back to the lab.” You had been working mandatory six days a week. Joe was right, you were feeling the burnout. 

“I think that is a good idea.” You reach for him, and he leans over you. You cup his cheek pulling him in for a kiss. It is slow and soft. His mouth was hot and followed the lead of your lazy kiss. It broke with a few lingering pecks on the lips. “You ready for bed baby? You look like you're falling asleep sitting up.” 

The two of you headed to the bedroom. Joe offered you a shirt to sleep in which you refused, teasing him that he is like sleeping against a furnace at night. You stripped down to just your cotton underwear and climbed into his arms reveling in the feel of his bare chest pressing against yours, your bodies tangled together. You had called the lab while getting ready for bed telling them that you wouldn’t be coming in the following morning because of food poisoning. 

Joe turned off the bedside lamp blanketing the room darkness. You had told him to wake you when he left for work, and you would head back to your apartment. You feel a kiss pressed to your temple before you're tucked under his chin. You barely have time to smile against his neck before you’ve drifted off. 

Something doesn’t feel quite right as you start to wake up the next morning. It takes you only a moment to realize what it is. Your body is no longer curled into Joe’s warm chest but the sad replacement of his pillow that only held trace amounts of his scent and body heat. The other was the sun was much higher in the sky than it should be. Had Joe not woken you up when he left for work? You found that hard to believe. Had you slept through his wake-up call, and he had given up? That also seemed unlikely but with how tired you had been last night, maybe? 

Joe walked into the bedroom, freshly showered and dressed in street clothes holding a cup of coffee. “Oh, good you’re awake, I thought I might have to wake you before you slept the entire day away.” He set his cup down sitting next to you on the bed. You sat up against the headboard watching him in confusion. He leaned over to kiss you and you made a face at the bitter taste of coffee still lingering on his lips.  

“Joe, what time is it, should you be at work?”  

“I guess your food poisoning was contagious.” The absurdity of the statement and your still half-asleep brain took a moment to process his meaning.   

“You’re playing hooky with me today?” You smile letting the covers drop from your naked chest. “You’re overdressed for the occasion.” Your greedy hands slid from his chest down towards the buckle of his belt. His hand caught yours pausing its movements on his lower stomach.  

“Sorry baby, not this time.” You tilt your head in confusion, searching his eyes. “We are already running behind, and we still have to stop at your apartment for you to get some clean clothes.” 

“Late for what?”  

“Coney Island.” You hadn’t thought much about your words last night. You had just been thinking out loud. Joe was one of the easiest people for you to talk to. While he had been sitting on the couch listening, he had felt a sense of guilt. He after all was part of the reason that you that you hadn’t been out much. You were working a lot but when you weren’t you had been hooking up with him. Sure, you went out to bars and the occasional place for food but mostly you guys spend your time in his apartment. He liked being around you, you were good company and the sex between the two of you had gone from great to better. There was an undeniable chemistry between the two of you. He didn’t want to tarnish a good thing by making you think that he didn’t care about what you wanted to do. You were new in New York and had mostly been willing to tag along with what he wanted to do. He hadn’t thought about the fact that he had seen most of the city quickly because he had been around doing detective work while you were stuck in a lab trying to help clean up a mess that wasn’t yours. 

        “Jose, you going to show me the world on your magic carpet?”  

You hadn’t been so giddy to get out of bed in a long time. The next hour passed in a blur, going to your apartment for a quick shower and to get changed before climbing back onto Joe’s motorcycle and speeding off for Coney Island. It was the perfect day, sunny and 75 degrees. The ride gave you some long-missed color to your cheeks and a happy thrumming through your veins.  

You guys spent all day there and Joe let you have the full experience. The arcades, the overpriced greasy fried food and then the over-sugared snacks, the attractions, the rides, and he even tried his hand at a few stall games. He had won a stuffed animal now tucked into your purse, only its bright head peeking out of the top of the bag. It was dark now and all the lights had been turned on. There was only one thing the two of you had yet to do yet. “You sure you don’t want to do the Ferris Wheel?” Joe persisted as you shoved another piece of the elephant ear in your mouth, powdered sugar staining your lips. 

“I’m afraid of heights. I know it sounds like a cute idea, but I’ll probably end up leaving a bruise on your arm.” He laughed at this before pointing at the rollercoaster that was at least twice the size with his hand that wasn’t holding your plate of fried sugar. 

“Let me get this straight, you will ride a rollercoaster that is twice as tall and way faster, but you won’t ride the Ferris Wheel. Baby, that makes no sense.”  

“I don’t have time to be afraid on the rollercoaster.” You say with a shrug. “If you want to go on I will. I was just giving you a fair warning.” He smiled brushing some sugar off your cheek, then kissed your lips sucking the sugar off them. 

“We will save that for another day then.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

When you guys get back to Joe’s apartment you are both happy and blissfully tired. The day had been long but had left you with a new energy. A readiness for what was coming your way in life. It was probably the best date that you had ever been on. It brought up questions that you had been refusing to ask yourself. You knew that Joe wasn’t seeing anyone else, or you were pretty sure at least. His work schedule might not have been as busy as yours now, but it did come into play at random moments. If he had time to see someone else, you would have to be a bit impressed. 

The way he acted with you was so intimate, and personal. You weren’t official but after a day like today, you felt like you were.  

“Hey Joe, I was thinking,” He hummed his acknowledgment from where he sat on the couch. You were about to just ask him what you guys were. Tell him you wanted a label, a defined serious relationship to build off. When his green eyes meet yours, panic fills you with what the conversation could cost you. How good things are right now. How perfect this hooky day had been and the promise of another one to come.  

“What is it, sweetheart?” He prodded when you don’t continue. You lose your nerve and think of a pastime that would be a lot more pleasurable. It was already late at night, and you were about to make it later. You sink to your knees in front of him. 

“I was just thinking that you deserved a reward for this amazing day.” You push his shirt up licking a stripe above the waistband on his jeans. You smile when you hear the hitch in his breathing. You rub your hand over the crotch of his jeans and can already feel him starting to harden.   

“You don’t have to.”  

“I know, but I want to show you how much fun I had.” You start to undo his pants and slide them down. Despite his words, his cock was already half-hard and looking for attention. “Don’t you want me to show you, baby?” He didn’t have a chance to get words out when you took the tip into your mouth rolling your tongue around the head. He cursed shifting, forcing his cock further into your mouth. You moan around it. You tease him at first focusing on the sensitive tip sucking a caressing it with your tongue. When he’s fully hardened, and you can taste his precum you take more of him in your mouth and start bobbing your head.  

You know your jaw will hurt later but you don’t rush through it. You stay teasing until his hand has gathered up your hair in his fist and he is tugging at it, telling you to look at him. His moans start bouncing off the walls and he tries to keep himself from thrusting up to meet your lips. That’s when you take him as far as you can his tip brushing the back of your throat. He hisses and you increase your speed. You know he is close when his thighs start to tremble, and he can no longer resist the urge to thrust upward. He gives you a warning and tries to pull back, but you follow him as he comes. You swallow and continue to lick at his shaft for a minute longer. You pull back with an audible pop. He swipes his hand over the coffee table making his files and papers go flying onto the floor as he lifts you up onto it pulling your legs over his shoulders to return the favor.  

If you had been able to focus on anything, quite an impossible task with Joe’s mouth on your clit, or any time immediately after, you would have noticed that one of the papers on the floor was the answer to the question that you had been too afraid to ask.

Relationship Disclosure Form: Manhattan  

That ending was not what I wanted it to be but it’s close enough. I have a second part for this planned. I also have a couple of multiple-part series I want to write for Joe. So, keep a lookout. I’m going to keep writing self-indulgent fics unless anyone has any requests. If you like Nick Amaro, I have started writing for him too.   

[fuckkbrunch]

I thought this would be quick...

Please ignore my blurry headers, I swear I'm working on it.

So this is a two in one, since you need to make the sauce recipe from the back of the book as well. I hadn't banked on it still being 40°C outside, and as you may recall, my kitchen has no windows.

Luckily Tony says this sauce should take no more than 45 minutes, and ideally much less. The meatballs however, took quite some time.

I think this is entirely too much onion for meatballs, but maybe that's just me. I used some Sicilian oregano that I bought a few months back for my tiny, apartment style herb garden. Most of the herbs have died, but the oregano is still doing okay.

A pound each of ground veal, beef, and pork. Panko and eggs. Nothing fancy - oh, except my fancy garlic...

Look at these big honkin' cloves! Not shallots, garlic. I really got a deal at the farmers market last week. The guy wasn't lying when he said it's strong. Cook up the minced veg and herbs for a few minutes and cool them before mixing into the meat.

The formed meatballs chill for 15-60 minutes. I left them longer (2.5 hours) because I somehow threw my back out a little, and needed to take a time out. It kinda works out, since my fridge is working overtime in this crazy fucking 3 week heatwave.

Then, the sauce.

Of course, the week I need a bunch of Roma tomatoes, Costco is all out. Had to buy some depressing ones from the cheap grocery store. I let them sit at room temp for a few days so they could ripen as much as possible. Dunno if it helped, the skin was really hard to get off even after blanching and an ice bath.

Onward and upward. I splurged a little and got myself a case of San Marzano whole tomatoes. I think they helped make up for the sad Romas.

When the sauce is mostly ready, preheat your oven to 400° so that your apartment can get even more disgusting and unbearable. Now stick your head over an oily cast iron for a half hour and sear 27 meatballs on all sides.

The onions stuck to the pan and over cooked, so I had to clean the pan between batches. Not ideal.

Blitz your sauce with an immersion blender, then stir in 2 chunks of butter. Rip up your basil, stir, season and you're done.

I realized my roaster was too big for this many meatballs to sit deep enough in the wine and sauce mixture, if you can believe it. So I used the braising pan that I made the sauce in, and the cast iron that I seared the meatballs in. Both work just like a braising pan.

Don't believe the people who say you can't cook tomatoes in cast iron, they don't know shit.

Pour almost equal parts wine and pomodoro (a little more wine than sauce) around the meatballs and bake for 20 minutes. Yes, I was drinking white wine (with ice) from a whiskey glass while finishing this up. My entire being is just sweat and back pain at this point, I'm not fucking around anymore. We're in the homestretch.

Really good, fresh mozza, and some of that good parm I bought back in the winter. That wedge is probably going to last me the whole book.

His recipe says to put the bottom of the bun underneath the meatballs while they broil, but I'm not partial to burnt, soggy bread, and I hate when the top and bottom bun are fully separated. You need that back connection to hold the meatballs in! So I just broiled the balls with the cheese on top (my broiler fixed itself...?), and plopped them into the buns once the cheese looked nice. Add a bit of the reserved pomodoro to the bun.

Sure ain't beautiful, and it's hefty, but she's fuckin' tasty. Got a tiny bit soggy towards the end, but nothing fell or dripped onto my plate. Very clean meatball sub.

| Meatball Parm Hero & Pomodoro |

Taste is a 4 out of 5. The meatballs were pretty juicy, even though I hit a higher temp than Tony called for.

Difficulty is a 4 out of 5. The back pain may be clouding my judgment, but this is a lot for one day. Make your pomodoro in advance.

Time was hard to say. Without my extended break, I think this would have taken about 4 hours.

Tony calls for footlong semolina hero rolls with sesame seeds on them, split in half to serve two people each. The closest I could muster was 6 inch Italian style sausage buns with semolina. They got the job done pretty well, so I'm calling it. This recipe feeds at least 8 people.

[ayahimes]

life update : ( tw hospital mention , tw anxiety , tw depression , tw death mention , tw covid mention )

so two weeks ago when shit hit the fan in the genshin rpc with the callout , the same day i was met with some pretty devastating news .

for some background : not everyone is aware but back in 2020 i put my school on hold because i was working as a nurse full time and doing a ton of overtime during the pandemic . i was initially working in ortho and then transferred to critical care ( where i still am too ) during the end of 2020 when it got really bad during the holidays . because of everything from it my mental health was shit and i was dealing with the ptsd of the trauma and death i saw every day . i'm still not 100% but much better than i was .

i eventually was told i got into a masters program again to get my pmhnp - bc and after some delays i spent 2.5 years of my life on it . anyways fast forward to two weeks ago . i didn't pass the exit examination for my program by one point and was told all my hard work was basically for nothing and i'd have to start all over again elsewhere . tbh , i was devastated and i still am . i'm currently trying to get my bearings straight and find out what i need to do next , but i just need some time is all . by no means are my efforts wasted , nor is it the end of the world , but this setback has definitely made me re-evaluate a lot of my life .

i have time again but i've decided to pick up more hours at work to pay for another 50k+ program somehow ( crazy huh ) and to enjoy my vacation in december . i'm still here and am enjoying my time , but if my heart or attention isn't into things it's nothing personal . i'm here to enjoy my time and hobby when i can , and i'm just going where i am happiest , whether it's gaming for hours on end or writing a shit post then logging off . thank you to everyone who has extended their kindness to me over the last two weeks , and those who have been patient with me since i've joined the fandom . i know i don't really owe an explanation but i want to so you all can understand the stuff going on outside of here too .

keep being kind to people . you never know what they're going through beyond here . sometimes our attitudes can make all the difference . and if you made it this far ? thank you <3

[sunshine-and-pink-skies]

Y'all! Its a new school year. Reminder in an Aide in a self-contained 3-5 grade special education class.

So at the very end of the last day last school year the the Principal came and talked to me about all the overtime I have. And I was like "I started out the year with the max amount bc it rolled over from previous years where I was the only aide." Seriously. And I complained about it to my teacher (who's fabulous. ) And was like "I'm doing all the things by myself! If they have a problem with my hours they need to figure it out. Bc I've been doing morning AND afternoon duty by myself everyday for 3 years now." For the record, The other SpEd class all have 2+ aides in them. Where my class only has me. They are able to duty is split up morning and afternoon duty between them. But I can't.

So this year. I got to school and my teacher goes "they're hiring another aide for our class." And obviously we're both ecstatic.

But also a little wary. Like teacher and I are on the same wavelength of crazy. We share one brain cell half the time. I'm use to things being a certain way. And it's a little scary to bring someone else into that.

And they've hired aides in the past that were incompetent and couldn't follow directions and made my job every day harder. And I had spent the entire year complaining. (I wasn't the only one complaining either.)

I'm not being egotistical when I say I excell at my job. My teacher was out 8 weeks last year and I ran that class by myself with no imput from anyone. I could be an actual teacher. I don't want to be. The Powers-To-be know I'm excellent at my job.

Its hard to work with people who make my job harder than it should be. You bet I've said something to my teacher when that happens. She always has my back. Its one thing I love about our teachership. We can't do this job without one another. And if I'm not happy to the point I say something about it she knows it's serious.

Anyway. We've had a substitute who's come in to get a feel for the position. And we get along. And she makes my day easier. I can actually leave ON TIME. she's officially applied for the job. The Assistant Principal asked last week what i thought in passing and i said "shes great! I love her." the Principal stopped by today bc they got all the paperwork in and wanted our opinion before they finalized everything. To which I said "I love her. And you know I don't love everybody. " 🤣🤣 I have never complained directly to her but I know she knows.

And like okay. I know my opinion doesn't count as much. They can and will hire anyone they please. And I will work with whoever. I will do my job and half of theirs if need be. I have before. But I don't want to have to. It's nice to have someone who seems to gel and is going to work well with us.

And I don't have to do afternoon dismissal duty! Only mornings. I like morning duty a lot more than afternoon.

-----‐-----‐---‐--------

In other news we currently have 9 students. And after 2 years of being at our max I'm constantly like "where's the rest of the kids? Is this everbody?" Bc it feels like there should be more of them. 😆 but thank goodness there isn't. Hopefully it stays that way.

We basically started with a whole new group. Having to teach our expectations is making me miss our group from last year. We really lucked out with them.