#and yes those are my thoughts for the night

[kilojulietsierra]

Just In Case (Dr Jack Abbot x FemaleResident!Reader)

Summary: He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?" Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Warning: all my content is considered 18+ only, smut, age gap unspecified, reader is one of Jacks resident, fluff, smut, angst, happy ending, as always barely proofread or edited plz forgive me

A quick note: I know I promised this forever ago, but I'll be completely honest, this is NOT the story I started out to write! But holy fuck it took over with a mind of it's own and I really love the way it turned out so I hope y'll do too!! also, again, shout-out to the gif creater above because this one's still my fav

ENJOY!

~~~~~

He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?"

Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Jack liked you from the jump. Smart, witty, a little dark like he was and not afraid to jump into the chaos with no need to know how deep. You had fit right in on his shift and for a long time you were just his best resident. His BEST, fucking resident, because God you were good. Every trauma, every code, every shitty shift you were right there doing the work and it was clear you loved all of it.

Jack had asked Robby one morning, "So, what's the deal? Why'd you let her go? You usually like to keep the star pupils to yourself."

Robby had just made that face at him, that annoying one with the shrug. "Thought I'd make her your problem for awhile."

Then the next night Jack had to split up you and the R4 in the middle of the hub. "What in the actual fuck are you two doing?" His presence had been enough to put some distance between the both of you, but you were pissed and the R4 was not letting it go.

"She walked all over my case."

"Because you were fucking it up! That girl did not have time to wait, and I told you that three times."

"And I told you to stay in your lane, I'm your senior resident."

"You are a dipshit, that was going to kill that girl by lack of action."

"Enough." Jack didn't yell. He didn't need to. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, face hard and waited.

"Dr. Abbot, she has authority issues, and it's interfering with her patient care and everyone elses."

"I don't have an issue with authority," If looks could kill the R4 would have dropped dead. Then you turned that look on him and it didn't have the venom in it, but the fight was there, that unwavering confidence, "I have a problem with misplaced authority."

Jack had held your gaze as you'd said it then nodded. He'd sent you both on your separate ways and excused himself to the bathroom where he took a leak and then stood with his hands braced on the sink as he stared himself down in the mirror. "What the fuck?" He whispered to himself as he rocked side to side and shook his head at his own reflection. He should've been annoyed at you two, not himself, but something about that look you had given him. It was like it had flipped some sort of switch. Like suddenly you weren't just his best resident, you were also…

The bathroom door swung open, "Dr. Abbot, we have a code blue coming in, ETA 5 minutes."

He nodded, "Set up trauma two."

Every shift after that he caught himself thinking things he should not be thinking about his resident. Yes you were his best resident, talented and dedicated, but you were also gorgeous. Not that he had never noticed, but now it was something he couldn't help but pay attention to. In between patients, when you passed by him or stood a little too close, he felt his pulse quicken. He couldn't help but watch you a little closer, the way you were so soft and calm with nervous patients, the way you didn't take shit from the combative ones. The confidence you had in your abilities and the drive you had to be better.

Your eyes. Those beautiful fucking eyes that never shied away from him. Your smile. Not big and bright or soft or sweet. No, the one that drove him fucking crazy? That was the tiny one, the barely there tick of your lips, up to one side before you could fight it back. That one was his favorite, because it felt like he had to earn that one. Like he had done something, just enough, to get you to crack. Like there was something you were trying to keep to yourself and if he said the right thing, did the right thing, you'd show him what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long night. A long week. Jack had gone up for some air and some quiet. He had his back leaned against the railing and hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the horizon.

The access door opened and he furrowed his brow. Robby wasn't working today.

When he looked over his shoulder the last person he had expected to see was you, just standing there with one of your easy smiles. "Need me, you could have called."

You just shrugged as you came closer. "Don't need anything, Day shift is trickling in." You came to lean next to him. Close enough to touch. "You good boss?"

Jack glanced sideways at you. Your hair was falling down, eyes tired, smile careful. He had to fight the urge to lean towards you, close that distance just to touch, even if it was just your shoulder against his. He shook his head, "Just one of those nights. You good?"

You nodded, leaned over the railing carefully to look down, "Do you actually think about it? When you come up here or is it just... a thing you do?"

He's not sure he would have been more surpised if you had slapped him. He looked at you long and hard. When you didn't flinch, didn't shy away, he shrugged. "Depends on the day." Jack cracks a little smirk for you, to ease the tension.

You smile back at him, unphased, as you stood up a little straighter. His eyes track your every move as you lean across the railing.

Jack had been wrong when he thought he couldn't be more surprised if you'd slapped him. Becuase the last thing he would have ever expected was that you would lean across the railing and kiss him.

It wasn't anything crazy. A quick brush of your lips over his. Not long enough. When you didn't pull back all the way he watched you close. Studied you. "Just in case." You shrugged as you finally stepped back.

You were about to turn and leave when he asked, "In case what?"

You gave him another smile, this time with something in your eyes that you didn't try to hide from him as the sun crept up over the skyline. "In case tonight was one of those nights."

It wasn't. It was one of those nights, but not one of THOSE nights. Jack liked that it hadn't been some big thing. Quick and light. He liked that you hadn't hesitated. He liked that if it had been one of those nights, you thought a kiss would have changed something. It changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, the park beers is really more of a day shift thing."

You turned to the side and inwardly scolded yourself for not hearing him approach. "No beer." You shrugged but didn't offer up anything else.

Jack took another step closer, "Thinkin' about that kid?" He shrugged his backpack up higher and waited for your response.

You looked him over and even after the night you'd had, you had to fight back a smile because he looked good. This was your favorite version of Dr. Jack Abbot. Cargo pants, hair a mess and he'd pulled his scrub top off at some point and had worked the last couple hours in just atight, black t-shirt. You took a deep breath, "You goin' to tell me I did everything I could?"

He shook his head, "You already know that."

You nodded, "Yep."

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home."

"Why?" You looked up at him, skeptical.

The grin he gave you washed all that away, "Just in case."

You thought maybe it would be awkward, letting Jack drive you home after what you'd done on the roof four shifts ago. It wasn't. Then when he had pulled up in front of your building, you thought for sure it would be awkward, but it wasn't. He just put the truck in park and tipped his head to catch your eye, "Go get some sleep okay." When you didn't move right away, he gave you a little nod, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You felt sick to your stomach suddenly, like you had been very wrong. "Jack…If I…"

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and his eyes were soft, "Tomorrows a new day."

"Get that from Robby?" you tried to swallow down the bile in your throat, force a smile.

Jack shrugged, gave you a smirk. "Maybe. I mean it, get some sleep."

You had started to climb out of the truck, but your hand paused on the handle. You were always something of a go big or go home kind of girl. So, you turned back, leaned across the console and didn't give yourself or Jack the chance to think twice. You kissed him again. More than a quick peck this time and the air rushed out of your lungs when his lips moved with yours, slow and steady.

You were about to pull back when you felt the hand that had been draped over the steering wheel cradle the back of your head and keep you there.

When Jack did eventually let you pull away his eyes locked onto yours. "What was that for?"

You whispered, scared to get your hopes up, "Just in case I don't get another chance."

He dropped his head back against the headrest and held your gaze, "If I promise you'll get another chance, will you go upstairs and get some rest?" When you nodded he cracked a little smile, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~~~~~~

Giving you a ride home became a thing, not after every shift but more and more.

It felt like you both just craved that little bit of time alone, together. It wasn't even something seedy or scandalous, he would just... drive you home.

Sometimes you'd kiss him, sometimes he'd reach out for your hand and hold it the whole way to your apartment. At some point it turned into drive thru coffee. He didn't just pull up out front anymore, he'd park in a spot and you would talk.

Jack told you about his wife first. The broken part of him figured; get the rough stuff out of the way first. If you were going to change your mind that would do it, and he'd rather deal with it sooner than later. He told you and you had just held his hand, your thumb working circles over his palm with tears in your eyes. "I don't have the words Jack, God I wish I did..."

He didn't need you to have the words. The look in your eyes unwavering and the grip on his hand was enough. He had just shaken his head, throat still hoarse and had lifted the back of your hands to his lips. That was enough.

He told you about his leg. You never flinched once and this time it was him that stroked his thumb over your palm. Back and forth, where they rested together on the console. You had just leaned forward, held his gaze and told him it made him more of a man.

He told you about his PTSD, explained his little visits to the roof, told you about his therapist. You said you were proud of him, and leaned over to kiss him and steal the last bagel bite out of his lap. Jack had grinned, watched the way your face lit up to see it, even if your eyes were a little misty. "I want to tell him about you..." Jack waited, watched you like his life depended on it. Because, even then he knew this couldn't be casual, not for him, and if it was real he was going to do it right.

You had laughed and he panicked for half a second before you leaned in to kiss him again. "You mean, we've been working together this long and you haven't already complained about me to your therapist?"

He laughed, and God it felt like a gulp of air. He sank his hand into your hair and slammed your mouth to his. Kissed you like you'd never been kissed before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning you had whispered, "Come upstairs?" He'd thought he might combust then and there. He had searched your eyes. Those gorgeous fucking eyes that never wavered under his. He'd never forget the pretty way you bit your lip, or the way your eyes flashed with something he hadn't seen yet when he gave you one more quick kiss and turned off his truck.

Any lingering thought or rationalization that you could be something casual went out the fucking window the moment you let him press you up against the inside of your apartment door and kiss you the way he'd been wanting to for months.

The way you gasped and moaned so pretty for him when he pinned your wrists over your head with one hand and slipped the other inside your scrub pants. "Jesus Christ sweetheart..." He murmured into your ear when he felt how hot and wet you were for him.

"Jack," Your eyes fluttered closed as he eased the first, thick finger inside you, "Shit." You fidgeted, tried to chase his hand with your hips, but you didn't fight his hold on your wrists or the way he pressed you into the hard surface. You groaned, showed your teeth in something between a smile and a snarl as he gave you a second finger, but did not change his rythym.

He kept his strokes slow, steady, deep. Kissed every part of you he could reach at this angle. Your neck, the hollow of your throat the shell of your ear, before always returning to your mouth. "Feel good?"

You nodded, frantic, gave him an airy, 'Mhmm."

"Yeah?" He mouthed at the soft spot just below your ear as he finally sped up his movements and felt the way your pussy quivered and clenched around his fingers. Jack smiled as he moved up to rest his forhead against yours, "Yeah..." He answered himself as he studied your face, felt the warm puffs of air as you panted and gasped, his palm resting over your clit as he drove his fingers deeper.

"Oh shit, shit," Your words cut off with a groan as he pressed against the little bundle of nerves harder.

"Yeah?" He licked his lips and fought back a smirk as he kissed you softly, pulled his fingers out and circled them over your clit. Firmer, faster. "Going to cum for me already, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Yeah." You chased after his kiss like you needed it to breathe, your weight sinking into his hand begging for more.

Eyes locked on yours, foreheads together he gave you a little nod, "Yeah, go ahead," He sped up the circling of his fingers until both of you were breathing heavy, "Go ahead, sweetheart, go ahead."

When your eyes fluttered and rolled back Jack didn't stop, only pressed you harder into the door and kissed you in the most unholy way as you came apart for him.

Slowly as you can back down he eased off the pressure of his fingers, slipped them back inside of you and relished in the little convulsions he felt as he gave you long, slow, steady strokes. He teased at your lips, kissing and nipping until you giggled and he finally released your hands from above your head. "Good girl." He whispered as he gave you a final kiss and pulled back.

The look in your eyes told him this probably couldn't be casual for you either.

You laughed when he ducked, lifted you up by the thighs and carried you towards your bedroom.

"Don't laugh, I'm not that old." He chuckled with you into the hollow of your throat. A chuckle that turned into a groan when you carded your fingers into his already messy curls and tugged.

He had laid you down on the bed and stripped you naked as fast as possible. Desperate to get his hands, his mouth on every inch of you until you whined his name and fisted your hand in the back of his scrub top.

Jack smiled against your hip, "What?"

"Off."

"What?" He asked again as he sucked a little bruise into the smooth skin before him.

You groaned, half annoyed and half giddy, and shoved at him until he looked you in the eyes, "Take your fucking shirt off."

He chuckled, gave you a grin and rose up to his knees so he could reach behind him and pull his scrub top and undershirt off in one go. Jack couldn't help but take that half a second, to watch you hum happily and chew on your lip, to let it stroke his ego, before he buried his face between your legs.

~~~~~~

He had put it off as long as he could, shoved the thought aside and focused all of his attention on you. But, eventually, you had pulled and clawed at him until he crawled over you to cover your body with his and kiss you properly again. Jack let you take some of his weight as he kissed you, soaked in the warmth and the feel of you under him.

He knew he'd have to take his pants off, that the prosthesis would be some sort of jarring reminder and this would all be over.

He focused on your hands and how fucking good if felt as you stroked up the muscles of his back, hooked your fingers over his shoulders and pulled him closer. The way your fingertips skimmed over his arms, squeezing his biceps and smiling under his kisses like you enjoyed the way he felt. It had almost been involuntary. The jerk of his hips when you had skated your nails low over his sides, too low, too close to the waistband of his boxers where the band peeked up over the top of his pants. The way he had rolled his hips against yours and gave you a hint of just how badly he wanted you.

You made that happy little humming sound again and stroked your hands up over his back and down again. FIngertips leaving little divots under them as they moved. "Jack," Your voice was soft, airy and tight, "Am I gonna have to tell you to take your pants off too?" You fought for his eye contact and for the first time he couldn't give it to you.

Jack buried his face in your neck and kissed over your pulse, whispered his answer there instead, "Sweetheart," He breathed deep and Jesus you smelled like sex and sweat and soap and everything good in this world. "Only way this really works, is if I take the leg off." He waited. Expected the worst.

When you tugged on his hair he caved, lifted his head and looked you in the eye. You held his gaze and opened your eyes wide like you were about to make a point and wanted it to land, "Then take the fucking leg off," You cracked a smile, "Or I'm going to do it, and I have no clue how it works so..."

Jack fucking loved you. He knew he loved you, because he had said the first thing that came to mind, "Want me to show you?" With a chuckle and a nod you kissed him and with no hesitation answered, "Yeah, kinda."

So, as awkward and unsexy as it was, he showed you.

He showed you how the mechanism worked, grinned at you and shook his head as you tried to pull it off the first time. He'd turned an embarrassing shade of pink when he'd warned you, "It's not going to smell good. You know that right?"

You had scoffed, rolled your eyes at him. "I'm a doctor. I'm sure I can handle it."

Jack couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard. Especially not in bed, with a sexy, young woman, where ten minutes ago the only thing on his mind had been fucking your brains out. Now, you were collapsed on his chest and cackling uncontrollably with his prosthetic leg in one hand dangling off the side of the bed. All he could do was cradle the back of your head and try to catch his breath, because even as you were laughing, you were peppering kisses over his chest and he swore that if this didn't scare you away he would never let you go.

When you caught your breath and sat up, you set his prosthesis down by the nightstand and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "Now, take your pants off."

His eyes followed you as you crawled off the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. He tried to fight down the nerves as he did shuck his other shoe, sock and his scrub pants off, then pushed himself up to lean against your headboard. He listened to a cupboard open and close, water run. When you reentered the room and tossed a bath towel on the bed and crawled back to him with a warm, soapy rag in your hand he furrowed his brow.

"I fucking dare you to make one sponge bath joke. I swear to God." You didn't hesitate as you knelt in front of him and began to run the rag over what remained of his lower leg. Your fingers massaging the aching muscles as you went.

All Jack could do was shake his head side to side as he let his eyes fall closed and his body sink deeper into your pillows.

~~~~~

Jack hadn't meant to zone out, but Christ it had felt too good. Your soft, capable hands working over the tension in his leg after a long shift. The relief it brought, physical and mental, was unbelievable. He barely noticed you had stopped until you had moved to straddle his lap and kiss up the side of his neck.

"Fall asleep on me?"

He chuckled, "Almost." and wrapped his arms around your waist to drag you closer.

"Feel good?" You copied his question from earlier, whispered it against throat.

"Too fucking good." His cock had softened some from the relaxation, but when he pulled you down to settle against him fully he could feel himself harden by the second. "You're too fucking good for me." He caressed from your knees, over your thighs, up your waist and ribcage, until his fingers traced over the line of your arms where they had wrapped around his neck.

"Don't say that." You kissed him, deep, and rolled your hips over him. Whined a little that his boxer briefs still kept you seperated from what you both wanted. The whine turned into a squeal as he flipped you over without warning, Put you on your back like you had started.

Jack hovered over you braced on strong arms. "You still want this?" He rocked his hips into yours and searched your eyes. He could see that you knew what he meant. Not just this, not just the moment, not just sex. Him. HIs past, his baggage, all the complications that a relationship with your attending would bring.

"Yes. All of it." You looked him in the eye and smiled. Cute and sweet. Drastically at odds with the way your hands were shoving his underwear down over his hips.

Then he watched those pretty eyes roll back in your head, because he wasn't going to waste another second not knowing what it felt like to be inside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack had panicked the first time he'd said he loved you.

He'd thought it from the start, but it had always felt to soon, too real, too say it out loud. To risk it.

Then he had woken up late one afternoon, after a restless few hours of sleep and you weren't in bed beside him. His mind, already primed for the worst case scenario after a long week, worried that you'd finally had enough. That he'd scared you away and you'd snuck off while he was asleep but, then he'd found you in the kitchen.

He paused at the corner and breathed deep as he watched you. Your back turned to him, in some t-shirt of his you'd dug out of a drawer to sleep in, hair tosseled from sleep. You were glaring at the coffee maker, arms crossed and swaying side to side, as if you could force the machine into expedience. He could feel the anxiety seep out of him as he watched you. Made his way to you.

"Where are your crutches?" Was how you greeted him, your voice rough and exhausted like him.

Jack just slid his arms around you waist and kissed the back of your head. Relished the feel of you sinking more of your weight back into him. "Bedroom." He shifted to place a kiss closer to your neck.

"Ja-ack"

"Wha-at?" He copied your tone and squeezed you tighter. He liked that you worried. With one hand he swept your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck and chuckled against it when you groaned. Annoyed, not aroused. "Been gettin' around just fine for over a decade baby."

You had grumbled, rolled your eyes, but leaned into him and smoothed your hands over his forearms, your thumbs traced the furrows in the muscle. "I know."

The coffee maker beeped, but you made no move to reach for a cup. Jack liked that you worried. He liked that you took up space in his home, in his life. He liked that you'd taken over half his bathroom, that his sheets smelled like you, that your car had a spot in his garage. He liked that you'd started teasing him about trying to get out of your lease as much time as you spent at his house. Hell, he'd pay off your fucking lease if it meant he could have you here, with him, all the time.

He wrapped his arms around you impossibly tighter and squeezed, smiled at the content little hum you let you and the way your head dropped back against his shoulder. His lips pressed against your temple, barely a kiss, "I love you."

There was no shocked expression on your face, no teary eyes, or fumbling words. Just that little smile, that ticked up in one corner, the one that he'd loved from the start. "I've been patiently waiting, but you were starting to make me nervous." You stood up and turned around in his arms. Smile wider as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your eyes flickered when he tightened his grip on your waist again. Locked you against him, arms flexing the way you always liked. Your lips brushed his briefly and then you pulled back to look him in the eye, "I love you too."

Saying it, finally, felt amazing. Like a weight off of his chest.

Hearing you say it, knowing that you meant it... felt like CPR, something bringing a piece of him back to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you had mismatched shifts all week because you had covered some days for Cassie while she had court. So, if you saw eachother it was only in passing, at home or at the hospital. This would be your last shift on days before a weekend off and you would be back on nights, with Jack. Where you belonged.

Jack caught a glimpse of you as he walked in, but continued towards the hub where Robby was already packing up his bag like he was in a hurry.

"Hey brother, sorry but I got a thing, I got to run." Robby picked up his bag and met Jack at the corner of the station. "Your girl is goin' to do the handoff." He gave his friend a smug look as he held his fist out.

Jack scoffed, gave Robby the first bump, but gave him a shove with it. "Don't do that, and don't act like I don't know what your 'thing' is." Jack stared him down, "Let me know how it goes."

Robby nodded, "Yeah, I will. Have a good night man."

Lena and Dana looked up at Jack in unison as he dropped his bag into the chair and together they said, "She's in fifteen."

Jack scowled at the two of them, "Why are you all like this?"

Lena just chuckled and ducked out to get to work. Dana grabbed her jacket and wrapped her hand around Jacks arm, "Just a heads up, someone, I won't name names, has been hounding her all day. Playin' twenty questions about Dr. Abbot, so… she might be a little salty."

With a deep breath he shook his head and draped his stethoscope around his neck.

Dana chuckled, "She doesn't know… so, it's harmless. Just watch your step with your girl. she's had a long one." She grabbed her bag and paused as she moved to step around him, "For what it's worth, the sooner you start wearing a wedding around here again the better for all of us I think." She gave him a wink.

Jack leaned down just enough they were eye to eye. "Dana… go home."

She gave him a smile and a wink, smiled a little wider when his scowl cracked, "Fifteen."

Which is exactly where he found you, right outside the room typing on one of the portable stations.

Work had always been work and honestly he loved you even more for that, because there was something sexy about the fact that you had the self control to keep home and work seperate. Most of the time. You were still his best resident, by far, and now his senior resident. It was fun for him to see you thrive with that responsibility. It was also fun for him to occasionally toe that line, get that little rise out of you that he'd pay for later.

Today, he felt like pushing that boundary. So, he took a quick glance around before he stepped up close, bumped your shoulder with his and tipped his head to whisper.

"Think carefully about what you're about to say, Dr. Abbot."

He bit back a smirk, definitly feisty tonight. "Ready to come back to nights?" He leaned a little closer than necessary and dropped his voice, "Where you belong."

You continued to type, never even looked at him, "What's it worth to you?"

"How about you finish up here, go get some rest, and I'll show you when I get home?"

That got you a little, he could tell by the way you bit the inside of your cheek and a little color appeared on your neck.

Jack bumped your shoulder with his again as he turned to leave, "Come on," His voice back to normal, "GIve me the rundown so we can get you out of here."

~~~~~

When he got home he heard his police scanner going and smirked to himself. You had given him shit about it at first, but now you used it like a white noise machine.

He moved quietly through the house until he found you asleep on the couch in the living room in your comfy clothes. Jack knew that meant you had tried to stay up as late as possible, get your sleep schedule back on track. He leaned his right knee on the couch next to you and braced his hands on either side of you, one against the back of the couch the other on the cushion. Carefully he leaned in and kissed your cheek, "Hey sweetheart." Something in him loved that you didn't flinch, didn't jump awake, only grumbled slightly and then smirked as you awoke.

"Hey." Your voice was raspy with sleep and Jack couldn't help but move to kiss the side of your neck. You hummed and shifted to your back as you cracked your eyes open, "How was your night?"

Lips never leaving your neck he gave a simple answer, "Fine." His kisses moved, higher up towards the hinge of your jaw, "Ready to have my best girl back."

You chuckled, stretched under him and let your head roll to one side to give him more access, "Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm." his kisses became more and more involved, mouthing and sucking at your neck until he left a mark.

Wide awake under his attentions your eyes focused, "Ugh, no fair."

Jack chuckled as he pushed himself up, hovering over you at arms length. "What's not fair?"

Shifting to get comfortable you pouted, unconciously letting your legs fall open for him, as you tugged at the front of his tight, dark t-shirt. "I missed a sexy Dr Abbot night."

He couldn't help the wide smile as he shook his head, still not fully comprehending what it was about wearing cargo pants and a Tshirt instead of scrubs that did it for you. Jack was, however, man enough to admit that you liking it did something for him. "Sexy Dr Abbot night huh?" He shifted his weight, hIs left hand settling on the strip of skin that appeared just above your waistband as your shirt rode up.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, tugged on the shirt again, "Mhmm."

Jack caved, still smiling as he moved to lay down over the top of you, his smile widening as your hands moved under the t-shirt and stroked over his back, "Did you miss your sexy Dr. Abbot?" He teased as he kissed you, slipped his knee between your legs and pressed it against your core as he settled into you.

A little groan escaped between chuckles as your fingers dug into the muscles of his back, on either side of his spine. "Stop it."

"You're the one that said it." Jack chuckled with you as he shifted his weight slightly, drug his right hand the length of your body. From your throat, over a breast where he paused for a moment, palming it through your shirt in time with the way his tongue slid against yours. Then your hips began to move, of their own accord, grinding against his thigh ellictiing a moan, your lips separating from his as you threw your head back.

"Mhmm," Jack murmerd into your exposed throat, "Sure seems like you missed me." He smiled against your pulse as your hands scrambled with the bottom of his shirt. He let you drag it up over his head and then before you could pull him back into a kiss he peeled your bottoms off. Taking his time to toss them aside and then slowly caress his way from the arch of your foot, over the back of your knee and higher. "God you are gorgeous." His grip on you changed, hardened as he moved back over you. "Tell me you missed me baby." He mumbled into your mouth, groaning as he felt your hands move to unbotton his pants.

"You know I did." You smiled, nipped his top lip and watched him as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Oh, fuck..." His forehead dropped to yours, eyes closed and breath coming out in warm pants. "Fuck." He repeated as you stroked him, hand firm and confident, from base to tip and back. The muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he held himself over you, fists clenching and unchlenching against the couch cushion as his cock hardened to your touch. "Baby..."

"What did you say earlier? Something you were going to show me?" You giggled, closed the short distance to brush your lips over his.

Jack smiled, ducked his head to kiss you properly and moved your hand aside so he could shove his pants and boxers down. Just far enough for him to enter you without preamble. Guiding his now achingly hard cock where it belonged. "God you feel too good sweetheart." He breathed the words into your mouth as he bottomed out, lowered the rest of his weight into you. "Too good."

Your whole body trembled underneath him as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck and keep him as close as possible. You dug your fingers into his hair, into the muscles of his shoulders and back, your legs wrapped around his hips as they moved against yours. "Jack..."

"Yeah baby?" Jack asked as he dropped a hand to your thigh, thick fingers digging into your flesh as he held you closer, fucked you just a little harder. "What's wrong?"

You let out a half chuckle half groan, your nails digging into the back of his shoulder blade, "Absolutely nothing." Your chuckle turned into something like a breathy giggle as he rewarded you with a particularly deep thrust. "Just, shit," you writhed under him as he moved the hand at your thigh between your bodies. His thumb working slow, teasing circles over your clit in time with his thrusts. "Just, you don't wanna take your prostthetic off?"

He smirked against your clavicle as he mouthed his way across to the opposite side of your neck. "Don't need to be comfortable right now baby," He picked up his pace, his thrusts and his thumb over your clit, moved harder, faster, "I need to feel you cum for me." Jack wasn't taking it slow after that, and the sounds you were making for him only motivated him to fuck you harder, faster, like he hadn't had you in a month not just a week. "So be a good girl and cum for me," The hand not playing with you slid under the back of your neck, grabbing it from behind, cradling you and applying pressure in a way that had your eyes rolling back and your back arching up off the couch. Lips against your ear, his own breathing ragged, "Need to feel it baby."

"So close, i'm so close, please, shit, Jack, I'm so close." You scrambled, tried everything in your power to drag him into you.

Jack just grinned, "I know, I know." He dropped a kiss against the shell of your ear, "Trust me," His voice was strained but his tone still steady, still soft and clinging to control. "You know I'm gonna take care of you baby, you know." When you nodded enthustically his grin widened, "Take a deep breath." When you didn't respond, he slowed his thrusts down, short and shallow, and when you whined, jack repeated himself, "Breathe. Relax and breathe."

As soon as you shuddered underneath him and took a long, deep breath, eyes slipping closed as you tried to do as he said, Jack whispered, "Good girl." HIs thumb stroked up the line of your carotid once and then settled over it, applied the perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim.

"Oh fuck...." Your mouth hung open and you moaned out his name.

Slowly Jack picked up his pace again, "Another deep breath baby."

You sucked in the air through your nose and moaned because you knew what came next. Because there was a timer running in Jacks head from the moment his thumb pressed down, and once that timer started there was no more teasing or playing, only fucking you as hard and as fast as he could. The whole time murmering every dirty thought that had ever crossed his mind. How you were his good girl, his best girl, all the depraved things he wanted to do to you, how you took his cock so well, and felt so fucking good. How you moaned his name so pretty, how he wanted to fucking ruin you, fill you up and never let you go.

When that timer in his head hit zero, he'd lift his thumb, let the blood rush back to your head and drive his cock into you as hard and as fast as he could, rubbing your clit furiously until you would shatter.

Your nails would dig into his back and you'd gasp for air, and for more. Then he'd snap, his ears would ring with your highpitched whines and his back would ache and he would empty himself inside of you. His hips never stopping until his vision cleared and he could feel the scratch of your fingertips through his hair, the hammering of your heart against his own.

"Jesus Christ," You whispered it, a sexy, satisfied giggle behind it, "I still don't understand how..." You paused for a deep breath and your pussy shuddered around him, "It happens so fast when you do that." You smile as he mouths at the side of your neck.

"Which is why," He tips your face to his so he can kiss you properly before he manhandles you around, swapping places with you so he's on his back and your draped over top of him, "I only do it when I know i'm not going to fucking last." He laughs at himself, drags you down into a vulgar kiss as he reached down to shift your hips and settle you properly. His softening dick still inside you and mess between you.

Jack laid there for a moment and closed his eyes, listened to you breathing slow to match his, a wave of comfort washed over him as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You settled into his grasp and hummed, a happy little sound in the back of your throat as you curled around him. Both of you half naked and spent on his living room couch. He smiled, kissed the top of your head, nowhere else he'd rather be in in that moment than right there.

~~~~~~~

His fingertips stroked slowly over your back, under your shirt, when you break the post-coital silence. "Can we talk about something?"

Swallowing down the fear rapidly rising in his throat Jack nods and kisses the top of your head, "What's up?"

"My residency is almost over."

He nods, lays the hand flat and wide over the small of your back like his subconcious is trying to keep you where he felt you belonged. "Thought about what you're going to do?"

"That's sort of what I want to talk to you about." You sit up and the both of you make a face at the way your bodies shifted together. You watch as Jack settles a hand on your thigh and you reach for the other. You take his hand in both of yours and started to massage away the stiffness you knew would be there after a long shift. "There's no guarantee I get the open attending spot here, and if I don't… I just… I guess I just want to know what you think I should do."

Jack took a deep breath and studied your face intently, held your gaze. "I'm hesitant to tell you what I think because, I don't think I can be impartial, not really. I want you to make the best decision for yourself and not let me… being selfish… affect your decision."

That made you take a moment, consider as you watched him. Your thumbs still moved in soothing circles over the knuckles and palm of his hand. "I'm not asking you to be impartial. I'm asking you, someone whose opinion matters to me deeply, to discuss a very important decision I might have to make."

It hits him in the gut to hear you say that, because he knows what he wants. He knows he could tell you. He doesn't know with certainty what you want though. "Okay, well, as your attending. You are an incredibly talented and valuable emergency physician and there's plenty of hospitals that would fight to have you. I think we would be idiots to not fight to keep you here, because you are good, you're steady and fast and you're a leader, but also because we have poured a shit ton of time and resources into developing you. It would be irresponsible to let you go, but you could go anywhere you wanted and be extremely successful."

You had to fight back tears at his praise and he must have seen it because Jack stroked his hand over your thigh with a little extra pressure and a tight grin.

"As the man that loves you…because God I fucking love you and I love working with you, but either way that's going to change soon, I want you here with me. Even if that means something other than the Pitt. And… I acknowledge, as much as it sucks, that might not be what's best for you, or even be what you want."

You're chewing on your lip hard, trying to keep your own emotions in check. You love Jack, but he is also your mentor and you value his opinion and he is honestly the only one you could imagine having this conversation with. "I don't want to go anywhere else, I want to stay where I am… I'm just terrified I … What if I put in for the open spot at PTMC and don't get it?"

Jack gives you the most encouraging smile he can without giving himself away and moves to sit up. Taking you with him as he twists around to sit on the couch properly and wrap his arms around you. "Sweetheart that's fine, if you don't work for us you'll go somewhere else. There's six trauma centers in Pittsburgh, there's 52 in the state. Hell there's over 200 level ones in the country and baby you could run any of them. I know you could." He fidgets for a moment and seems to look everywhere but you before he can get locked in. He looks you in the eye, "If you want my opinion you could go anywhere, but I want you here. I just don't want to be the reason you settle for less."

Your breath caught in your throat, "Jack…"

He can't help the thought that he's going to have to talk to his therapist about the look on your face, the weight in his chest as he sits with you on his lap, dick still just a little hard inside you, the mess you made together sticky between you and every fiber of his being is fighting the urge to beg you to stay because he needs you.

"On what planet is being here with you considered less? Don't say that." You kiss him hard, then pull back, "If I apply for the slot… they're going to look sideways at both of us."

"Let 'em. Baby, that's goin' to come down on me not you."

You scoff, "We both know it doesn't work that way. If they want to raise hell about me being in a relationship with my attending that shit could follow me."

Jack hates that that's true, even if it happens in every fucking teaching hospital in the country. "To be fair, I'm tenured and I make enough for both of us. Worse comes to worse. Fuck 'em."

"Not helpful." You smack him on the chest, but chuckle despite the tension.

He shrugs, "There's ways to go about it, so maybe we haven't made it obvious, but not like we've been keeping it a state secret either, and it's not some abuse of power, hasn't affected either of our performance. I'm still going to be with you when you're an attending, or hell, when you're the chief for that matter. If i'm still around that long. Honestly… if you want to be shady about it between me and Shen, Robby is the chief, I'm willing to bet we can rig it in your favor."

"Also not helpful!" You kiss him though, "I do find it oddly attractive that you're so willing to bend the rules though."

"I know you do." He kissed you back. "Promise to play by the rules for a change."

You smile, "So, what If I told you I wanted to stay here after my residency? What if I want the attending spot at the Pitt and to stay with you?"

Jack shook his head, squeezed you tighter, "Don't ask me baby, tell me. Is that what you want?"

"I want you. If I can have you and the Pitt, perfect. If not, I'd work anywhere if it means we are together." You kiss him again, trying to get your point across, "That doesn't feel like settling to me Jack. Not even close."

How he felt in that moment was something he couldn't name, because no matter how ecstatic it makes him to hear you say you want him a piece of him is drowning in the guilt that you could be giving up something so much better.

You run your hands over his bare chest, his shoulders and then slide them up the side of his neck to hold him in place. "Is that… Is that okay?"

Like so many times before Jack shoves that doubt aside and figures, fuck it. He thinks about that first fleeting kiss on the roof, the one in his truck, all the rides home, the coffee and conversations, the morning you had asked him to come upstairs. All the times you were the one that took that leap of faith, because he couldn't. He'd been trying not to jump for years.

He kissed you, long and slow as he thinks and then whispers against your lips. "Sweetheart," He kisses you again, "Do me a favor and go grab my bag?"

You look confused, rightfully so, but smirk and duck your head to nip at the meat of one of his pecs. "You know, I'm not supposed to be able to walk after you fuck me like that."

Jack groans and feels fucking ancient, but can't help the need to swat you on the ass and give you a little push, "Love to watch you try though."

Because, yeah, you are still a little unsteady and you both trembled as you had raised up and his semi hard dick had slipped out of you. He watched you walk out of the living room and tucked himself back into his boxers before he did up the fly of his pants. The conversation you were about to have was one he couldn't have with his dick inside you, no matter how good it felt.

When you came back his eyes drank you in, shirt askew and hair a mess, a sheen between your legs that made the blood in his veins rush south again.

"Here you go." You hold out the camo backpack as you round the end of the couch.

"Need you to grab something for me, out of the liner pocket on the inside." He smirked at the way you arch your brow at him, but still come back to sit on his lap. He holds his breath as you set the bag on the couch next to you and pulled at the zipper. Jack had to try not to stare at the patch velcroed to the front. Abbot. He lets his hands settle on your thighs while he waits, thumb stroking over your femoral artery.

"What exactly am I…"

"You'll know." He cuts you off.

You stop.

He feels your heart rate skyrocket under his thumb, every muscle in your body goes rigid and he watches as your eyes blink rapidly like you're trying to clear your vision. "That's what I want sweetheart."

Your eyes are the only part of you that moves. They jump from what you found in the pocket, to his face and back. "How long have you had this?" Because what you're holding, it's not something bought on a whim.

Jack can't help but laugh at himself, "Awhile." Is all he'll tell you right now. He fights for your eye contact, but for one of the only times he can remember, it's like you can't quite hold it. Your eyes keep flicking to him and away again.

"Why?"

"Just in case."

You look at him then, really look at him, and don't look away. Give him that eye contact he craves and he sucks in air like he can breath again, head above water for just a moment. You smirk at hearing him repeat your own words back to you from so long ago. Your voice shakes, "Just in case what?"

He smirks right back at you as he moves the backpack out of the way with one hand and then holds it out, palm up. You carefully put what you had found in his hand, unopened, because the simple presence of the small, shiny, sleek, perfectly square, black box had told you everything you needed to know. Jack makes sure to brush your fingers with his as he takes the box from you and pops it open. "Just in case you ever decided to go back to dayshift, thought I might have to bribe you."

You choke out a laugh and Jack smiles, but his throat is dry and the way you look like you're about to cry really isn't helping.

He repeats himself as he pulls out the ring, rolls it carefully between his thumb and forefiner, "This is what I want sweetheart. Then he chokes out a laugh of his own, "I don't give a shit where you work baby, wherever you want. Only thing I give a fuck about is that they call you Dr. Abbot." He cracks a smile when you laugh with him and he can feel you relax, your weight sinking into him as you lean in to kiss him. Clumsy and sloppy and with a smile.

"You're fucking ego sometimes."

"You can hyphenate if you want."

"Oh, I can, can I? So generous."

Every word between you is murmured between kisses. He diesn't have to hear you say it, he knows the answer.

He doesn't have to tell you he's had the ring your entire fourth year of residency. Just waiting for you to say you wanted to stay.

You're really shaking when he slips the ring on your finger and of course it fits perfectly and of course it's exactly what you would have picked, because it's Jack. Becasuse this has never been casual for either of you, not for one single moment.

You pull back from kissing him with a laugh and an evil grin, "You suppose I'd be more or less likely to get the attending position with your last name?"

Jack laughs with you and drags your hips closer, because as soon as this conversation is finished he's taking you to bed and doing terrible, filthy things to you the rest of the weekend. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is really what you want baby."

He can feel the metal of the ring on your finger as your hand presses against his jaw, "This is what I want Jack. This is exactly what I want."

Your noses bump together as he kisses you and nods, "Have something else I need to tell you then." He kissed you again, before you can panic. "You don't need to apply for the attending position."

You put some distance between you and for the first time in a long time Jack has to gently stop you, guide you away from putting too much pressure on his right knee at this angle. You murmur a little, "Sorry." as you scoot closer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arms locked tight around you Jack keeps a straight face, tells you something he's wanted to tell you since you started this conversation. "It's not going to come down to whether you get the job or not. Robby already tagged you for it."

You blink, "What?"

Jack rubbed his hands over your thighs, putting in the pressure and the warmth to keep you grounded, "It's going to come down to whether you want the job or not, because they're going to offer it to you once you complete your residency."

"You're fucking with me right now."

He chuckles, "I am not fucking with you right now. It's like I told you; we'd be stupid to let you go anywhere else."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" He's almost laughing outright now, "They asked us for our recommendations, every single one of us said you. Obviously I'm not supposed to tell you, but…"

"So you were just letting me stress out about all of this!? About the fact that I might lose you, because I wasn't going to get the job, that I was going to have to leave and, and move to the opposite side of the country or something!"

"I was trying to stay out if it. In case being here isn't what you wanted." He left the 'if I wasn't what you wanted' out of it.

"Jack!, I mean Jesus, c'mon! We've been together for almost two fucking years. How would you even begin to think this isn't what I wanted!?" You're yelling at him, but you're laughing and crying and have a death grip on the back of his neck.

Jack takes a deep breath and deescalates. "My therapist says I plan for the worst case scenario as a coping mechanism, as a way to try and protect myself from the pain of unforseen loss."

Taking his lead you take a deep breath, lower your tone. "Yeah, he also says it's one thing to be prepared for emergencies and another to try and plan for the worst possible outcome to a conversation, that you haven't even initated, therefore running the risk of 'planning' that worst case outcome into existence." You scowl at him.

Sometimes he hates that you're so in tune, so invested and involved in his mental health, because it's annoying to hear his therapist come out of your mouth. He smirks though, because he also loves it a little and can't imagine anyone else holding him accountable the way you do.

"Since you brought your therapist into it, have you told him you've been carrying around my engagement ring in your backpack next to a three day supply of MREs?"

He doesn't answer you because you know he hasn't, you're just making a point. Jack smirks and smooths his hands up your back, "Sure you wanna marry me?" His chest hurts at the way you light up as he watches your eyes flick back to the ring he slipped on your finger.

"Very sure." You looked him in the eye like you were daring him to doubt you and gave him that little smirk. The one that had started this all, where it tipped up to one side like you were trying not to show him something.

Jack waited for you to lean in and kiss him, waited for your fingers to comb into his curls and your tongue to chase after his, and then he grabbed you tight and pushed to his feet. Chuckling at the way you still squeaked and giggled, no matter how many times he's carried you to bed that way. Or to the couch, the shower, the nearest wall or flat surface.

Later, when you're both exhausted and the blackout curtains are keeping the afternoon sun at bay, you're laying beside him with your head on his shoulder, one leg draped over his and your left hand on his chest. Neither of you can stop staring at the faint glint that is the ring in the dim light of the room.

"Are you sure?"

Jack chuckles, presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmers, "How many times you going to ask me that?"

You bite your lip and turn your face into his neck, "Just making sure."

He closes his eyes when he feels you trace his collar bone with your lips and he moves to cradle the back of her head, holding you close. Jack thinks again about those first two kisses, about the way you had explained yourself. 'Just in case.' He tips your head back so he can kiss you, deep and with emotion he still can't quite process out loud. "I'm sure sweetheart." He kissed you again.

There was something extremely appropriate about the phrase, 'just in case.' he thought and for the rest of his life, every time he kissed you, touched you, told you he loved you, in the back of his mind he'd think. 'Just in case.' Because he knew better than anyone, there was no way to know what time would be the last.

"Hey," Your voice was soft, half asleep when your hand rested against his jaw to pull him out of his thoughts, "I love you." You said it like you knew where his thoughts had gone.

Jack kissed you, holding you close like he'd never let you go. "Love you too."

~~~ The End~~~

[ay0nha]

How Many Miles to Babylon? | Remmick (Sinners)

SUMMARY: In the bible, "Babylon" is used as a symbol of sin and rebellion. Based on this request.

"How many miles to Babylon? Three score miles and ten. Can I get there by candlelight? Yes, and back again ... If your heels are nimble and your toes are light, You may get there by candlelight." Nursery Rhyme, Unknown, 1801

PAIRING: Remmick x f!reader (human)

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

WARNINGS: Canon-typical things, tension-filled enemies to lovers, heavy on the religious themes (mentions of god, prayer, sin, bible verses, devil mentions, etc.), mentions of blood, inner turmoil, ANGST, inspo from Margaret Atwood, James Baldwin, Jennifer Johnston (Irish writer of 'How Many Miles to Babylon'), and Nosferatu quotes, etc.

A/N: Lowkey really enjoyed writing this, might have to do a part two! Thank you so much for this request. I incorporated similar requests into the story as well, so I'm not ignoring my inbox. Comments HEAVILY encouraged, it makes writers' hearts full and encourages me to continue writing. Enjoy.

“You again.”  

You were a master of speaking silently—you've spoken silently all your life, and you’ve had to live through entire tragedies because of it. 

Yet, your tone was sterile. It left little room for interpretation or defiance. The statement came without hesitation but held pent-up sentiment veiled by familiar poise.

“Miss me?” Remmick vetted your blank gaze for the proper determination of your upset. He nodded mockingly. “...Thought you might.”

The bliss had been idyllic.

Your wrist balanced on the rocking chair’s arm as you lazily tapped the ash of your cigarette. The humid air caressed your arm and gave you goosebumps that reminded you that you were still alive. Human.

Your senses had been perked, knowing a disruption was overdue.

“Cicadas warned me you’d be comin’ tonight.” Your vexation was pointed, always honest in the distaste you held for the man before you. “Have I not made myself clear?”

The cracks behind your exterior were so deeply concealed you hadn’t thought anything could slip between. Yet, standing before you, his presence was the ice-pick that’s pressure had threatened to shatter you. 

“Oh, no, ma’am, you have.” Remmick's posture was playful as if he held control of the situation. “Just reckon you’d change your mind by now.” 

You hummed. It wasn’t thoughtful, but a placeholder. You were slow to anger; your patience could outwit Remmick.

You’d grown so accustomed to how he worked, his body language became predictable, and so did his actions.  Especially, with the banjo strapped across Remmick’s back.

Even in the dark, you could see how his fingers itched to toy with the instrument. You’d learned he couldn’t sit still in silence, even if the night itself always buzzed. Remmick would twist the banjo’s strap, settling the instrument in his lap, and persuade the night to succumb to him and his song. 

You drew in another crackling breath, “Tonight’s no night for pickin’ that thing.” 

“Wouldn’t think of it.” Remmick’s hands were joined behind his back.

He swayed back and forth on his feet, waiting with a childlike enthusiasm. His smile wasn’t foreign on his face, but something was off.

Different. 

There was an odd sense of pride you felt with his presence. It confirmed the distant admiration that Remmick held for years. You respected his drive, but your desires fell elsewhere. He carved space for you despite your protests, but you could never be the one to fill it—you could never be his. 

Something swirled in your chest, but you brought the cigarette to your lips to suffocate it. 

“Those’ll kill you, ya know…” Remmick gestured to your vice. 

You flicked the roach onto the dirt before his feet.

“So will you.” 

Another smile, sinful this time. You never had to say it aloud, nor did he. You knew what he was. To you, it was obvious his desires; he was an open wound rooted to his devotions. You, another thing in his path.

“Heard what you did to those clan folk…” You prodded. Apparently, you were all heart tonight, carrying the conversation. Something rare and in between. 

“You sound impressed.” 

“Your massacre will fall on the shoulders of the undeserving.” You shook your head with wry sympathy. “You ain’t a hero.”

“To some, I am.” He shrugged. “I’ve had many titles, but I know to pay no mind to ‘em. Can’t let the bullies win, right?” 

You tutted lightly. “Peace be upon you for what you have so mightily endured.”

Remmick talked to you about suffering. He had said it in passing, in riddles that took a few visits for you to realize what he wanted. He wanted a home, but too much time had bastardized the sentiment.

Instead, his suffering became one very long moment. You learned it could not be divided by seasons. You could only record their moods and chronicle their return—his return. 

Remmick wagged his finger at you, hand on hip, teasing. He inched closer to your porch, but you knew he’d never touch the steps unless you said so. 

“You almost got me thinkin’ something dangerous—” He cocked his head, musing a buried thought.  Then, he clicked his tongue against his teeth with ridicule, “Careful—you’re getting awful sentimental these days.”

You tracked Remmick’s movements. You envied how he filled the space better than you. Perhaps it was the smugness in his presence. Regardless, you felt like a guest outside your own home. 

You felt caught, exposed. So, you stood, leaving your shadow with the rhythm of your rocking chair. 

The weight of your footsteps made the rotting wood of your porch groan, as if warning you not to move further. But you continued down the steps until the last, giving you enough height for Remmick to tilt his chin up to reach your eyes. 

“Thinkin’ bout me often?” You cooed. “That why you always lurkin’, waitin’...for me?”

“Ain’t never said that, lass.” Something sparkled in his eyes, but they remained dark and curious. You wouldn’t stop until they shone red. “Some of us appear out of habit, guided by some blood-orchestral pulse—”

“Is that why you keep coming back to me?” You considered. “That’s not a comfort.”

“Ain’t meant to be.” 

You hummed. “Nothin’ you say will shake me, there’s a devil in this world, and I’ve already met him—you ain’t him.”

Remmick’s tongue sat on the roof of his mouth in thought, eyes mulling over your expression.

Then, he smiled, the shadows of the night elongating his teeth’s point. “Should I be jealous?” 

“Yeah, I reckon so.” Provoking him, you dangled a foot off the step. You kept your eyes on his, waiting. “Just remember he who sups with the Devil should have a long spoon.”

Remmick could pull you forward before you could blink. Sink his teeth into your neck, but you knew he wouldn’t. You knew it wasn’t out of kindness.

He liked to play with his food. He liked it when his food talked back. 

“Easy.” His warning highlighted his drawl. 

“Isn’t this why you haunt me?” You followed his eyes, not letting him break the contact. “Seems not every one of your hauntings is for horror; sometimes it’s just for company, huh?”

You taunted him with a claim you never let him forget.

You waited for Remmick to lunge with anger. You’d been far more liberal with your words than usual.

Remmick watched you with something close to admiration, but his hands stayed firm in his pockets, and so did his posture. 

“Trick question, that is.” He pushed against the physical boundary, his nose looking to touch yours. “I told ya, down in the Delta, never trust what you see. I’m an appetite, nothin’ more.”

Your foot finally landed, and you stood chest to chest with Remmick, past the threshold of safety. 

“You think I’m afraid of you?” Fear was like a pet to you: something you’d pick up to get a better look at, but that you’d soon grow tired of. And now, fear was your ally. “You must be starvin’.”

You traced his face with your half-lidded eyes.  He looked proper, shirt tucked in, suspenders tightened perfectly, necklace sticking to the sweat of his skin. What skin you could see was dirty, like his clothes. It had clearly been some time since he last tidied his appearance.

All an act of deception. 

Meeting his eyes again, you smiled at his very human-like reaction; his pupils were blown wide and resisting something coveted.

The night was silent, holding its breath in hopes of saving you. You should have heeded its warning.

“If only you’d listen.” Remmick continued, filling the quiet. Your breath fell on his lips. It was a push and pull, your mouths ghosting each other, but never quite making full contact. “Look at what you’re doing, playin’ like this. Your revelin’ in my torture—”

“No.” You insisted half-heartedly. Remmick thought this was another lie, a deception to get him pliable. “You’re sorely mistaken.” 

“You know, lyin’ doesn’t suit you.” Remmick sounded dangerous, his voice deep and coarse in a way you’d never heard before, every word he spoke seeming to rumble out of him. A hand snaked its way up to your throat. “Oh, to freeze this moment forever, where you are so warm and your heart is going so deliciously fast.” 

You felt thin, sharp nails prick against the tender skin. Remmick nosed at your cheek, taking in every scent you offered. He trailed down your jawline, his ragged breath falling on your pulse point. 

“I’m charmed.” Your remark fell on absent but not deaf ears. 

“I’ve beheld a thousand faces, made purple with cold; whence o'er me comes a shudder, and evermore will come, at frozen rivers.” He spoke like a song, lilting his words as if reading a poem. “Yet, at the river’s bend, I see you as you are—”

You watched how his eyes flickered with a red gleam. There it was. 

“—here you are.” Remmick continued, mouth searching for yours. “Changin’ right before my eyes.”

Your features were accentuated by an internal glow. There was no modesty in your gaze; it shattered any notion of strength. There was no insight into your emotions. 

Yet, it highlighted something else, something deeper. It was subtle but powerful, like the way a garden seemed to breathe life into a space.

Something shifted in Remmick’s eyes; a baptism in fire. You missed how his eyebrows furrowed in conflict.

Fear clawed its way up Remmick’s throat, determined to make itself known. It fought with another emotion he was too proud to name. He wasn’t unfamiliar with loss. But this. The feeling was wild—sentimental.  

The shadows were still pressed thick against the night. Morning was there, but hadn't been announced. Suffering had yet to spot you, though you heard it hunting. No one, yet, had spoiled the dark by singing. The air outside was too cold, even for the birds.

Remmick felt his skin prick. It was electric. Cold. Warm. All and nothing combined. A centuries-buried question revealed itself:

Do you not deserve to be somewhere that brings out the softness in you, not the survival?

Remmick’s hand tightened on your neck. You felt drool pool on his lips and drip down your neck. He pressed his lips there, teeth ready to puncture your flesh.

It was what he wanted, you thought. All this time he’d haunted you, you’d finally given him what he wanted. 

However, you felt nothing but warmth. Remmick’s teeth were replaced with his lips, providing a wet, open-mouthed kiss. He lingered there, breath ragged through his nose as if testing his own limits. 

“Fuck.” Remmick’s grip lightened. An act of submission, of failure, of self-consciousness. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, cursing in a language foreign to you. 

Anger wouldn’t settle outside his chest, so he pulled away from you like you were sunlight. He avoided your gaze as if you were a mirror; he had no interest in learning what it felt like to meet his own eyes.

Remmick paced against the dissonance of conflict that filled his ears. He was supposed to devour you, turn you towards blood and music. 

“...and how odd is it to be haunted by someone that is still alive, Remmick?” Even with a low tone, your voice carried throughout the open air. “You dangle on the leash of your own longing; your need grows teeth.” 

 “Stop—” Remmick’s confusion manifested physically; he pulled at his hair trying to think clearly, rubbed at his cheek and chin to rid himself strife, and almost fell to his knees to beg for mercy. 

Remmick stepped backward just as you moved closer. The only evidence you’d been standing in front of him at all was the pounding of your heart and a sick feeling in his stomach. 

“Those colonizers took your father’s land, forced prayer upon your people, and you still recite His word for comfort.” You spat, stepping further from your forgotten home. “O, turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted. Relieve the troubles of my heart and free me from my anguish!"

You were something volatile and authentic. You didn’t mock religion, you related to the way your lips moved on instinct to verses as old as time. Comfort was needed when the world was on fire, when the world forgot about you. 

You remember that once, Remmick had told you: We’re all dying, slowly, every day. But even you knew there was no use in prayers.

Remmick looked at you with manic agony.

Then, disappeared. 

[checkeredflagggs]

Family Vacation

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: when max gets called to Milton Keyes, y/n takes the kids on a family vacation

a/n: requested! I changed the request just a little to better fit with the story but I hope you like jt!

Masterlist | Taglist | Rookies Masterlist

redbullracing

liked by user, user, user, and 1,823,238 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

redbullracing: the work never stops! But it is 2 parts work to 1 part naps…

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user1: sleepy max!

↳user2: oh my god it’s sleepy max

user3: ok but how many of those trophies are there because of max??

↳user4: oh so many…

↳user5: that’s our goat

user6: why is he in Milton Keyes??

↳user7: that’s his job??

↳user6: you can’t tell me he couldn’t do most of that from his home?

↳user7: why wouldn’t he go to hq?

↳user6: because his very pregnant girlfriend is at home???

↳user7:…oh

user8: man he’s jetting around isn’t he…

↳user9: what do you mean?

↳user8: y/n was live last night and the 2 of them were cooking together which means he had to have left for England late last night or very early this morning

user10: the vibes are off on this post…

↳user11: it’s because y/n hasn’t commented. usually she’s already here, making fun of max for his redbull obsession, his sleepiness…

↳user10: uh oh…

↳user11: uh oh indeed

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, y/n and the kids

Bluesky

user12: Disneyland!!

user13: oh to be able to jet off to Disney whenever I want…

user14: Isn’t she like? Extremely pregnant?

↳user15: she is, yes. while they haven’t given an exact date (nor should they!) she was suspected to have been pregnant back around December

↳user16: is it safe for her to be there?

↳user17: I mean it’s her body and her baby but yeah? There’s a bunch of stuff she could do there that’s not rides — and even then there’s some rides she can still go on

user18: ok is anyone else gonna say something?

↳user19: that it’s very weird that she’s randomly taking the kids to Disneyland when max is still in England? And that she was very conspicuously absent from redbull’s last post??

↳user18: oh thank god it wasn’t just me…

↳user19: me thinks that someone is in the doghouse…

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 2,823,192 others

tagged: olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, isackhadjar, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30

y/n: Disney time with my sons 💜

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user20: is there an application I can fill out?

↳user21: Right? Like how do I join this family?

↳y/n: be a young race driver who the commentators of the sport won’t shut up about! Even though they should be professionals!

↳user21: dragging them for filth and they aren’t even here…

↳y/n: oh trust me they’re aware of my thoughts on them

oscarpiastri: I thought what we had meant something…

↳y/n: oh darling you are absolutely invited for the next family vacation but you’re currently in Australia

↳oscarpiastri: I will absolutely take you up on that 👍🏻

maxverstappen1: DISNEY??

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1: YOURE AT DISNEY???

this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1: YOURE 8 MONTHS PREGANT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

this comment has been deleted

user22: did anyone else see max’s comments or was that just me?

↳y/n: it was just you babe

↳user22: …

↳user22: whatever you say queen! liked by y/n

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Max and the kids

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, and 1,823,293 others

tagged: olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, isackhadjar, gabrielbortoleto_, liamlawson30

y/n: the past few days 💜

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user23: love this!

olliebearman: thanks again for taking us!

↳y/n: it was a pleasure darling

↳user24: this is still the best thing to come out of this season…

maxverstappen1: i hope you had fun, mijn leeuwin

↳y/n: 💜

↳user25: still in the doghouse I see…

kimi.antonelli: best vacay ever!

↳y/n: I’m so glad you had fun sweetie

↳y/n: and I’m very glad I choose not to ride with you on the teacups

↳user26: how bad were they?

↳y/n: He and liam had a competition on who could get their teacup to go faster. Honestly I felt bad for isack and ollie but c’est la vie

↳isackhadjar: never again

↳olliebearman: I mean it was kinda fun…

↳gabrielbortoleto_: I’m glad I was with y/n

↳jackdoohan: same

user27: I spy with my little eye some animal plushies!

↳y/n: there were cats and lions…how could I resist?

↳user28: understandable. continue on

Private Messages, Max and y/n

y/n

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 3,129,283 others

y/n: everyone meet Nino!

view all comments

user29: I’ve only had Nino for 2 seconds but if something happened to him I’d kill everyone then myself

↳user30: seriously I’d help

charles_leclerc: i see you’ve seen the light

↳y/n: yes yes yes we now have a dog. don’t get a big head

↳charles_leclerc: it’s ok to admit you’re a copycat (let’s meet up soon)

↳y/n: it’s ok to admit you’re in love with max (come over whenever, just lmk)

↳user31: mom help me im scared — the wife and mistress are getting along liked by y/n, charles_leclerc

oscarpiastri: i demand a meeting with my new brother

↳y/n: you and Lily are always welcome

↳oscarpiastri: on our way now

alex_albon: welcome to the club

↳y/n: club?

↳alex_albon: the “we’re very close to owning a zoo club”

↳y/n: we have 3 cats and a dog

↳alex_albon: like I said — welcome to the club

maxverstappen1: ok when you said we needed to talk I didn’t think it was going to be because you got a dog

↳y/n: 🥹🥹🥹

↳maxverstappen1: he’s adorable liked by y/n

Taglist

Please interact with my taglist post if you want to join — I don’t always check the notes on the individual posts

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[glowettee]

✧ if it doesn't align with the dream life, it's a distraction ✧

hey lovelies!! 🦢

omg, so, i was literally journaling last night & this phrase just hit me like… so hard. "if it doesn't align with the dream life, it's a distraction." i had to stop writing and just sit with that for a min.

because honestly? i've been feeling so scattered lately. like my energy is going in a million directions but none of them are taking me where i actually want to go. and i realized that's exactly what happens when we don't have clarity on our it-girl blueprint.

so what even is an it-girl blueprint? it's not just aesthetic or vibes (tho those matter too!!) but it's this deep knowing of who you're meant to become. it's that version of you who wakes up excited, who feels aligned, who's living in her dream apartment with her dream career and her dream people. she exists!! she's waiting for you to become her!!

this post is a bit different from my most recents, i wanted to take a little tinyyy break from my pop culture series', like the pll x glowettee and vampire diaries x glowettee series' and just focus more on self-improvement again. i also wanted to take a break from the overwhelming aesthetics i've been using in my posts, and justtttt write~~ (no small text, no crazy colors, just my thoughts) and i realized that distractions have been very prominent in my life lately... so i wanted to address it in this post, and some possible solutions <3

✧ what's actually distracting you? ✧

okay so grab your journal rn and let's get super real about what's pulling you away from your dream life, feel free to use these prompts:

that situationship that makes you feel anxious every time they text (you know the one)

the hours of scrolling that leave you feeling empty inside

saying yes to plans when your body is literally begging you to rest

the "friend" who always has drama and makes everything about them

that project you started because you thought you "should" but you actually hate

staying in that job/class/situation because you're scared to disappoint someone

comparing your chapter 1 to someone else's chapter 20 (guilty!!)

i've been doing this work myself and it's kinda scary how many things i was pouring energy into that weren't actually taking me anywhere i wanted to go??

✧ getting clear on your actual dream life ✧

before we can align with our dream life, we need to know what it actually looks like! not what instagram or your mom or society thinks it should look like, but what YOU want.

some journal prompts that helped me:

when do i feel most like myself?

what activities make me lose track of time?

who makes me feel seen, safe, and supported?

what would my perfect morning routine look like if i had zero obligations?

what kind of spaces make me feel calm and inspired?

what would i do with my time if money wasn't an issue?

what parts of my current life would i keep even if i could change everything?

i did this exercise last weekend and realized that so many things i was chasing weren't even in my dream life blueprint?? like i was stressing about getting into this super competitive program but when i really thought about it, it wasn't even aligned with what i actually want. wild.

✧ how to actually make decisions that align ✧

okay, so here's my little framework for making choices that actually build your dream life:

the body check: before saying yes to anything, check in with your body. does it feel expansive and light, or contracted and heavy? your body literally knows before your brain does!!

the future self question: what would the version of you who's already living your dream life do? she knows!! trust her!!

the energy audit: does this person/activity/commitment give you energy or drain it? only say yes to energy-givers (this one changed my life omg)

the alignment test: ask yourself "does this move me closer to or further from my dream life?" be brutally honest!!

the joy metric: if it doesn't bring you joy or lead to joy, why are you doing it?? (unless it's like… taxes or something lol)

✧ how to let go of the distractions ✧

this is the hardest part tbh. because we get attached to things even when they're not serving us! here's what's helping me:

remember that saying no to something is saying yes to your dream life

start with the easiest distractions first (for me it was unfollowing accounts that made me feel bad)

create little rituals around letting go (i write things down and then burn the paper)

remind yourself that outgrowing things is part of becoming

be gentle with yourself when you slip back into old patterns (we all do it!!)

i had to let go of a friendship a few months that was taking so much energy, and it was really hard but also?? i suddenly had all this space to focus on things that actually matter to me.

✧ your dream life alignment practice ✧

here's a little daily practice i've been doing:

morning: set an intention to notice what aligns and what distracts

throughout the day: when making choices, ask "dream life or distraction?"

evening: celebrate the aligned choices you made + gently note the distractions

it's not being perfect!! it's becoming more conscious of our choices. because every tiny decision is either building your dream life or… not.

i've been doing this for about three weeks now and i already feel so much clearer and more focused. like i'm finally moving in one direction instead of being pulled in a million different ones.

remember: you deserve your dream life. and it starts with choosing it, over and over, in all the tiny moments.

question from mindy:

what's one distraction you're ready to let go of? and one aligned action you're ready to take? (feel free to send me a message in my inbox, or just reblog answering this question.)

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[doodle-pops]

When You Disappeared After A Fight And They Thought You Left Them

Headcanon: Celebrimbor, Finarfin, Finrod, Glorfindel, Elrond, Gil-Galad

A/N: I realised it’s been far too long since I last wrote for Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad. Don’t worry, no crazy angst, just humour, and hurt/comfort.

Synopsis: After a heated argument, you decided to take a walk to clear your head, only to end up getting caught in a storm, resulting in your absence for a week. They, on the other hand, thought the worse until your return.

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Celebrimbor

You stepped through the doorway soaked to the bone, your cloak heavy with rain, and boots caked with half-dried mud from the trail. Your fingers were numb by the time you pushed open the forge door, the hinges groaning in a way that made you wince. There was a moment you expected anger, or worse, indifference. But what you got instead was the echo of something heavy crashing to the floor, followed by the very loud, very uneven clatter of tools spilling everywhere.

There he was, Celebrimbor shot around the corner like he’d been fired from a war bow. His hair was a mess, half-tied back with soot streaking his cheek, and the look on his face—pure disbelief.

“You—” He stopped dead in his tracks, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then unhinged as though a dozen words had just jammed up behind his teeth, he took a shaky step forward. “You’re alive?”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He strode to you without hesitation and grabbing your face in both calloused hands, eyes darting over your soaked features like he couldn’t believe you were real. “I thought you left. You didn’t send word. You didn’t—by the Valar, I thought you were dead or that you—” He sucked in a ragged breath and pulled back, fists clenched. “I thought you left me. Because of what I said.”

Brushing wet strands of hair out of your face, you rolled your eyes. “Because you acted like a stubborn ass and I didn’t feel like getting struck by lightning trying to hike back here during a bloody storm?”

He stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “Storm?”

You gestured at yourself, dripping onto the floor. “Yes. Storm. The week-long monsoon from hell? Trees falling, floods, livestock floating by? What, did you think I was tanning in Ereigon?”

He didn’t say anything while his brows furrowed deeper and hand slowly rose to rub over his face like he was trying to scrub away his shame. “I thought—” He looked away. “I deserved it. I said too much. I was cruel. I...I never should have said those things.”

You dropped your cloak with a thud. “No, you shouldn’t have. You were an ass. You said I never understood your work. That I was only here because I liked the forge’s heat and the free jewellery.”

“I know,” he cut in, wincing. “I know. It was vile. I was angry and—”

“No. You were scared,” you said, stepping into his space, glaring up at him. “Because I told you you’re not a god, and your projects don’t get to eat you alive. And instead of listening, you threw that in my face.”

He sagged visibly. “I haven’t slept in a week. I couldn’t. The bed didn’t feel right without you in it. The forge didn’t sound the same. I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating you or remembering you wrong. And I’d come home every night hoping you’d be here, and every night the door stayed shut.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So...you missed me?”

His expression was dry enough to bake bread. “I was halfway to building a replica of you from spare chainmail links and cursing your name the entire time. So, yes. I missed you.”

You crossed your arms with a slow smirk forming. “And?”

“And I’m sorry,” he said quickly, eyes holding yours. “I’ll never say anything like that again. Even when I’m angry, especially when I’m angry. Because losing you—thinking I’d lost you—it wasn’t just unbearable. It made me realise I care about us more than I care about anything I’ve ever made.”

You held his gaze letting him squirm a moment longer out of a quest for satisfaction, then stepped forward and shoved your cold, wet face against his chest. “Good. Because if I’d made it home and you were off brooding in a cave somewhere, I’d have gone back into that storm and hoped for a lightning bolt.”

Releasing let out a short, breathy laugh, his arms wound tightly around your waist. “Remind me to temper my mouth next time.”

“I’ll temper your ass next time.”

“Already sculpting the armour for that, love.”

Finarfin

You opened the heavy front door, expecting silence. Maybe even the stern face of a king trying to pretend he hadn’t cried into a dozen embroidered handkerchiefs. But what you weren’t expecting was to be immediately tackled by golden robes and a blur of hair smelling like lilac oil and nervous sweat.

He squeezed you so tight your spine protested audibly. “Yavanna’s tits, you’re alive!” he gasped against your shoulder, and you had a split second to marvel at him swearing before your feet left the ground.

“Put me down!” you protested while poking his shoulder. “I’ve just walked six leagues through wet forest—I probably smell like moss!”

Suddenly releasing you, his hands moved to cup your face, eyes frantic. “You disappeared. No word. Not even a note. I scoured the coastline. Sent birds. Rode out with the guards. I interrogated a goose herder because he thought he saw someone matching your description two days ago.”

“A goose herder?” you asked, deadpan.

“Bribed him with a wheel of cheese and four loaves of honeyed bread.”

You blinked. “You bribed a man to tell you where I went using baked goods?”

“It’s what I had on hand!” he snapped, then let out a breath and took a half step back. “Where were you?”

You peeled off your dripping cloak and stepped out your soggy boots. “Nearby village. Storm rolled in hard. Bridge collapsed. I was stuck for days before someone even managed to repair the road out.”

He stared, clearly dumbfounded. “You didn’t leave?”

You levelled him a look. “Of course not. Just because you said I had the diplomacy of a drunken orc doesn’t mean I’d up and vanish. I was angry, not deranged.”

His face went sheet white. “I—oh.” He dropped into the nearest chair like his knees had turned to pudding. “You were just stuck. Not gone.”

“I would never just leave you like that,” your muttered in an obvious tone while crossing the room to plop yourself into his lap, and flick his nose. “Although, if you ever talk to me like that again during an argument, I will exile myself. To Angband.”

“I was furious, and stupid, and possibly drunk on elderberry wine. But the moment you were gone, I felt like a hollow man playing king to a room full of ghosts,” he grunted, voice muffled as he buried his face into your neck and arms around your waist, squeezing you tightly.

“You didn’t change the bedsheets.”

He looked up. “Of course not.”

You softened, fingers slipping through his hair. “Next time, trust me to come back. Storms pass. Tempers cool. But you are my home.”

His mouth curled into a small, sheepish smile. “Even when I say utterly regrettable things about your tact?”

“Especially then. Because someone’s got to keep your golden head from floating too far off your shoulders.”

“I shall make it up to you.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Name your price.”

“Hot bath and food. And I’m choosing the bedtime story tonight.”

He grinned. “Even if it’s the one where I accidentally insulted a goose herder and got smacked with a bread roll?”

“Especially that one.”

“And if I cried into my council robes?”

“Oh, I assume you did.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not even if Eru himself demanded it.”

Finrod

The halls were obscenely quiet when you entered. The kind of silence that only existed when someone refused to acknowledge anything around them because they were still stewing. The sheer thought prompted another eye roll—your nth number for the week.

Your cloak dripped steadily onto the mosaic floor of the palace, and you kicked off your boots just inside the entrance. You hadn’t the opportunity to make it three steps before Finrod’s voice echoed coldly from the corridor behind you.

“So you do remember where you live.”

Slowly, you turned to be treated by the sight of him standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched tight, and his golden hair slightly dishevelled like he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours. Nice to see how crazy you were capable of driving him.

You raised a brow, returning the same air of authority. “Nice to see you too.”

Striding forward with an expression so thunderous, he stopped a foot away. “You were gone. A week. No word. No message from the servants. Not even a whisper from the wind.”

“I was trapped in one of the nearby humam settlements. The roads flooded, so one could leave, and the villagers were too busy tying down roofs from becoming birds in the raging wind.”

“I assumed you’d left because of our argument,” he pointed out tightly. “That you’d walked out because I pushed you too far.”

“You told me I didn’t understand what it meant to rule. That I was selfish for questioning your council.”

“I said that in anger!” His voice cracked through the room. “And I regretted it the moment you walked away! I thought, give them time. A day. Maybe two. But then three passed. Then four. The storm hit, and every rider I sent returned empty-handed—”

“You sent riders?” you questioned in softness.

“Dozens.” He scrubbed his face with both hands. “And when they found nothing, I thought maybe…maybe you left because I made you feel like you didn’t belong.”

He looked at you with all the sharpness fading into raw hurt. “Do you have any idea what it’s like walking these halls thinking you’ve destroyed the best thing in your life with a few words? I held court with a mask for six days and couldn’t remember what you looked like when you smiled.”

Your mouth twitched. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Entirely.” His tone didn’t even attempt denial. “I was halfway through composing a lament by the fifth night.”

“My goodness.”

“Yes. There were rhymes.”

You made a noise of mock horror. “Please tell me you didn’t sing.”

“I’m not saying I did.” He looked sideways. “But if I did, it was very moving.”

You couldn’t resist snorting. “You idiot.”

His shoulders sagged. “Your idiot,” he corrected, then softened his tone with an ounce of hesitation, “if you’ll still have me.”

Closing the gap, you reached up to cup his face, and his hands flew to your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “I would’ve sent word if I could,” you murmured. “But the weather was horrible. And…I was angry. But I didn’t leave you.”

Slowly he exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good. Because I love you. And if you had left, I’d have to write a second lament.”

“You absolute menace.”

“Still your menace.”

Glorfindel

Glorfindel appeared in the hallway like the same storm you just faced—wild hair unbraided, tunic only half-buttoned, his expression caught between fury, disbelief, and the unmistakable shine of near-tears. The moment your foot crossed the threshold, you barely had time to shut the door before the sound of his boots thundered across the floor, approaching.

“You,” he growled, pointing an accusatory finger like he wasn’t entirely convinced you weren’t some hallucination conjured by a grief-addled mind. “You vanished for a week!”

You dropped your soaked cloak with a soggy thud and blinked at him, soaked from head to toe. “There was a storm. The roads were flooded—”

“I know there was a storm!” he snapped. “I sent out three search parties! I threatened to punch Círdan when he suggested you might’ve just needed ‘space’!”

“You threatened Círdan?” you cried in utter disbelief.

He threw up his arms. “He was being philosophical at me when I hadn’t slept since the third day! I thought you were dead, or kidnapped! Or—” his voice cracked, and the rage drained out of him, leaving him standing there looking wrecked and years older.

“…Or gone,” he whispered quietly. “And I couldn’t even remember what the last thing I said to you was. Only that you were angry. And then you were gone.”

Your brows furrowed as you stepped forward, boots squelching on the wood. “You told me I was being ‘dramatic,’ Fin.”

“I meant adorably dramatic,” he muttered instantly, stepping toward you with equal urgency. “You were huffing. Your nose scrunches when you’re angry, it’s precious—and you know I’m terrible with words when I’m angry—”

You narrowed your eyes. “You called me a spoiled elfling and stormed out.”

“…Okay,” he admitted, wincing. “Not my finest moment. But I stormed out intending to return and apologise! I bought apple pastries on the way back! And when I returned you were just…gone. No note. No sign. And then the storm hit, and I kept thinking, what if the last thing you ever heard from me was—was that?”

He looked almost offended when you didn’t immediately throw yourself into his arms to console him. Instead, you wrung out your cloak and calmly replied, “You’re the one who stormed off like you were starring in a stage play.”

There a strangled noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I was dramatic. Fine. But—you were the one who walked into the rain and disappeared like some moody soliloquy. You didn’t think maybe sending a bird? A single raven?”

“I tried,” you replied sarcastically. “The damn birds couldn’t fly in the storm. One nearly got knocked out of the sky by a tree branch the size of your ego.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Then gave a grudging nod before the silence stretched. His hands clenched and unclenched like he didn’t know what to do with them. Then, with a grumble, he reached forward and tugged you into his arms.

You were still soggy, but he didn’t care.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he murmured, burying his face in your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t start writing poems in mourning and have every elf in Imladris listen to me.”

You snorted. “You’d write poems?”

“Dramatic and weeping.”

“You really are ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“…Unfortunately.”

He kissed your neck, desperate and rough. “Don’t vanish on me again. Or I will punch Círdan.”

Elrond

The moment Elrond saw you walking through the front gates of Imladris, muddy, rain-streaked, and glaring at the sky like it had insulted your lineage, he dropped the teacup he’d been holding. Not caring that it shattered beyond repair—as did his composure.

“Where in the Void have you been?”

You flinched, clearly you had been imagining this exact moment for seven storm-soaked days and still weren’t ready for it. “Well, hello to you, too,” you croaked, pushing back your hood. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had—”

“You disappeared,” he cut in, striding toward you with wide, sharp eyes. “Without a note. Without a message. Even without your cloak, for Eru’s sake! And after that—”

“—ridiculous argument,” you finished. “Yes. I remember. Mostly the part where you accused me of never taking anything seriously and that being with you was a responsibility, not a game.”

He stopped in his tracks. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” you snapped. “And I was furious. So I took a walk for some air. Then for half an hour before the heavens cracked open, a tree fell on the road, and a lovely travelling merchant shoved me into a barn before I was flattened by lightning.”

“You could have sent a bird—”

“Oh, yes! Of course. Send a bird in the middle of a raging storm!” you exclaimed, flailing your hands in the air. “Why didn’t I think about that?”

He rubbed his face with both hands and made a sound that could only be described as part groan, part sob. “I thought you were gone. Not ‘temporarily cross and got caught in a freak storm’ gone—actually gone. I haven’t slept. I’ve started yelling at the staff. I called Glorfindel ‘ammë’ yesterday.”

You paused and raised an eyebrow. “Did he cry?”

“He curtsied.”

Well, that was the cue that broke you. You doubled over with laughter while Elrond stood there, baffled and tired and vaguely damp from standing outside in his night robe all week like some cursed spirit.

“Look,” you said, voice shaking as you sobered up, “I didn’t plan to vanish. But you hurt me. You said something harsh, I said something worse, and then I got stranded with a farmer who thought my name was ‘Moss.’”

“Moss?”

“I was too tired to correct him.”

Cautiously, he stepped closer with his eyes dropping to your feet. “I am sorry. I was harsh, and worried, and frightened.”

“I know,” you muttered. “I figured that out somewhere between the second lightning strike and the moment a goat tried to eat my sleeve.”

“Come inside,” he said softly while reaching out to clasp your fingers and guide you indoor. “You’re soaked, blue and clearly on the brink of falling ill. Your boots are—are those not your boots?”

“They belonged to a man named Oloron who lost his in the river. We swapped. Don’t ask.”

Stepping closer, he lifted his hand to cradle your face, his warm thumb rubbing your cold skin. “I missed you. The house missed you. The trees were quiet.”

“That’s creepy.”

“It’s true.”

Instinctively leaned into him without warning, and he caught you without hesitation, arms dropping to warm around you like he thought you might vanish again if he didn’t anchor you down.

“Say it again,” you murmured into his chest.

“I missed you.”

“Good. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t.”

Gil-galad

The halls of Lindon were colder than usual. Not from the biting winds or damp stone, but from your absence, resulting in the great High King from not slept in a week—he barely ate, save for the few times Elrond had coaxed him into chewing through half a honeyed fig like some pitiful, lovesick warlord. All because you two had argued. Loudly.

It first started off a something petty—maybe it was about the council and his constant dodging of your concerns, or maybe the usual ‘you don’t understand the pressure I carry’ rubbish—before escalating. Whatever it was, he’d been dismissive, you’d been furious, and by the time the shouting had stopped, so had your presence in the house.

You hadn’t left a message with the maids. No word. Not even a note. Nothing but a door left ajar and silence heavier than the storm clouds that rolled in that night.

For two days, he searched, storm or not. Rode halfway to Forlond and back with soaked boots and a bruised ego. It didn’t matter that the rain pelted like knives or that his guards warned him of landslides. You were gone. You could have been dead for all he knew, and the last words he’d thrown at you had been, “If you can’t handle this life, perhaps you shouldn’t be part of it.”

Beautiful. Regal. Worthy of carving onto his tombstone, right next to Beloved Idiot.

So when the front door creaked open on the eighth morning, dripping with mud and exhaustion, and you stumbled in with your cloak barely clinging to your shoulders, Gil-galad froze mid-pace on the staircase.

“...You have three seconds to explain before I start wailing like a widow.”

You blinked at him, water streaming off your nose. “I got stuck in a bloody storm,” you grumbled. “The bridge collapsed, the path to Lindon was flooded, and the only inn in the village had one bed, and a family of six already in it. So, I’ve been drying socks by the hearth of an old woman named Sarah who thought I was some war orphan.”

“You didn’t think to send someone?”

“In the raging storm?”

“Birds fly in storms!”

“Yes, foolish Birds who have a death wish.”

He stomped down the stairs. “Do you have any idea what I thought happened? I buried you in my head five times! I thought you were dead, or worse—gone. Just…left.”

“Well that’s romantic.” You threw your arms in the air, which would’ve been more dramatic had you not slapped a soaked glove into your own face. “Why would I just leave?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he barked, sarcasm thick. “Maybe because your husband said something truly wretched and didn’t even apologise before you vanished into a torrential abyss?”

Your glare could’ve melted mithril at this point. “I was going to come home after a day, but then mudslides happened and cows started floating down the river like logs, and some bloody elf thought that was the perfect time to lecture me about duty and whether I’m ‘suited’ for this life!”

He winced. “...Yes. That would be me.”

“No shit.”

You both stared at each other, soaking wet and shaking for very different reasons. But then he stepped forward and flung his arms around you, his warrior-made body weighted upon yours and solid against your weary bones.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured into your hair. “And probably hungry. I left stew on the fire. It’s awful. I overdid the garlic. But it’s warm.”

You stifled a laugh at the absurdity of him assuming you would leave him, unsure whether to cry or punch him. “You thought I left.”

“I did. And if you ever actually leave without a message again, I’ll throw myself into the sea.”

You snorted while attempting to gently pry him off so his attire wouldn’t be drenched and smelling, however, he resisted your efforts. “You’d float. You’re too full of hot air.”

“Not the sweet reunion I was hoping for,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck. “But I’ll take it. Just don’t go running off without me.”

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[poppyseed-cheesecake]

Caleb starts feeling like your panties aren't enough anymore and you're a heavy sleeper, so what's the harm in masturbating over you?

I dunno be warned mc is asleep for all of this and obvs can't say yes or no in this situation

1465 words

It had started off innocently enough.

Sometimes, when it was his turn to do the laundry, he'd take some extra time. Sometimes pieces would get...lost.

Sometimes they'd reappear after a while.

"Eh, it's an old machine. Half of my socks are missing too."

And you'd believed him. Of course you did. There'd been no reason for him to lie. And it was harmless, wasn't it?

He always made sure that no evidence was left of what he did when your panties would reappear.

But at some point that wasn't really enough anymore. Of course it wasn't.

You were just a room away, whenever he came home from the academy. And you'd grown up. You'd gotten taller, fuller, more muscular. You were training to become a hunter.

And you weren't aware in the slightest of how enticing you looked. When you came back from training, sweat slick and still flushed.

Or when you fell asleep on the couch after a shower, in nothing but a big shirt and a pair of too short shorts.

It didn't help that gran would go out for card games with her friends, or visit relatives in the countryside more often, now that you were both adults.

So, starved for you after not seeing you wor weeks on end, it was hard to still be satisfied with just a few flimsy pieces of cloth.

During one particular movie night, you'd pretty quickly fallen asleep.

Those aformentioned short shorts barely covering your ass as you curled up tightly. Soft snores echoing through the living room and Caleb white knuckling the blanket he draped over you. Well over your torso.

He knew you to be a heavy sleeper. He would carry you to bed later, in a few hours without you so much as stirring.

It was okay. It was fine. You wouldn't notice. You wouldn't be hurt. It would be okay.

His palms were sweaty and he swallowed hard. With how you were curled up, he could see your panties peaking out under the shorts. It was an old, loose pair.

Trembling, he reached out. A featherlight touch on the underside of your thigh. No reaction.

Emboldened by that, his fingers went further until they finally reached the flimsy fabric. A single, careful finger hooked underneath, and pulled the cloth to the side.

His breath hitched. Immediately, he took his hand back. As if burned.

No no no no he couldn't do this. He couldn't he really couldn't it was too much it was too pretty.

Caleb forced himself to look away, knowing that if he didn't, he'd not be able to hold back.

The finger that had touched you felt hot. He wanted to shove it in his mouth, but he didn't.

Instead, he lightly shoved his own sweats down, just enough to free his dick. He'd been hard for a while. Painfully so.

That very finger now pressed on his slit, his other hand clasped over his mouth. Eyes trained on your form, still avoiding what he wanted to look at most. Horribly aware of how exposed it now was.

How soft it felt, even with that brief touch.

He had to bite into the meat of his palm when he started stroking. Too close.

You rubbed your legs together. Of course. They were still cold, still exposed. Caleb steeled himself to look. Were it not for the hand in his mouth he'd have cursed, and he thought it better to keep it that way. So he used the hand that he'd been stroking himself with to drag the blanket further over your legs, mourning every inch of skin he could no longer see. In the end he couldnt bring himself to cover your ass. Actually, would it really be so bad if he looked a bit more? You were asleep, you wouldn't notice, right? It wouldn't hurt you if he just pulled your shorts and panties down a bit, they were old and worn out, it was easy.

And before he could overthink it, he'd done it. The view was overwhelming, but he could do this. He wouldn't touch you. Just look. Nothing more.

Even though he wanted to spread your lips...lick up and down, suck on your clit...the real deal had to taste so much better than what was left on your panties.

He thought of that alone almost brought him over the edge untouched. He could feel it in his belly, at this rate he wouldn't last long. And honestly he couldn't take it much longer.

With increased pace and force he stroked himself, taking in as much of you as he could, his gasps and moans quieted by his palm.

It was a messy, shameful orgasm, that left him reeling. He knew this was wrong, but he also couldn't go back. Especially after he, still hazy, dragged the tip of his cock along your folds, only once, only to feel them, before pulling your panties and shorts back up. Before washing his hands and carrying you to your room, tucking you in.

And you didn't wake up. You were a heavy sleeper afterall.

It should've ended there. No it should've never happened in the first place but he shouldn't have gone any further.

But how could he go back to just your panties after that? Especially since he'd gotten away with it so easily.

And he was just touching himself. It wasn't like he was sticking it in you or anything.

Sure maybe he'd touch you a teeny tiny bit but you wouldn't notice. It was okay.

So when he came back home for summer break a couple of months later, and he found you sleeping with all your limbs stretched away from you thanks to the heat every night, how could he not?

You slept in nothing but a tanktop and your flimsiest panties. And you even left the door slightly open for more airflow.

He just happened to walk by while getting a glass of water one night, and he just happened to see you.

Half of your upper body was exposed. He only came in to fix your shirt. It wasn't his fault it rode up further. Exposing your breasts.

Soft...untouched by the sun...The cool breeze hardening your nipples.

He quickly turned around. Head in his hands. He couldn't do this again. He shouldn't be doing this.

But he was already painfully hard. And you wouldn't notice.

You'd never know.

So he turned back around. Leaned over you slightly. Your breath was even, deep.

Your chest was rising and falling in a steady rythm.

Three finger. No more. Three fingers ghosted over your belly first. Gently pressing into the soft flesh, before daring to move up when you showed no reaction.

That was a mistake. Three fingers quickly became a whole hand cupping your breast, and once again he had to stifle a moan with his free hand.

This was dangerous. He had to stop.

It was impossible, with more urgency than he intended he pulled your panties down to your thighs.

For some reason he climbed onto your bed, your breathing still steady.

His face mere inches away from your pussy, he took his hand off his face, and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

All reason was gone, and his toung dipped below, the taste something he'd only dreamed of, a far cry from licking up what little was left in your panties.

Your breath hitched, and he stilled.

Listening, begging you to stay asleep. And after a few dreadful seconds you returned to your peaceful slumber.

But he couldn't risk any more, so he tore himself from you. Now kneeling over you, your hair splayed all around your pretty head, your body exposed to him, he could have cried.

Okay, he'd allow himself one more thing, before he would just...take care of himself.

He freed his cock from his boxers, revelling in its shadow on your belly. Slowly, softly, he touched the tip to your lips, then your chest, and in the end, once again, dragging it between your folds.

The smart thing - the right thing would've been to run to his room. To finish there and leave you alone.

But how could he? You were so beautiful.

And he was already so close. Fisting his dick while biting on his hand, he hovered over you.

Watching your beautiful form, so exposed to him.

When he came he had to scramble off the bed as to not let anything get on you. As much as he wanted to paint you with it.

Pulling your clothes back in place he was overcome with shame and guilt.

The next day he couldn't look you in the eye.

He had to stop this. This couldn't go on.

[captain-belova]

DATING YELENA BELOVA:

★ she doesn’t trust easily, so when she first met you she seemed cold and distant, almost as if she hated you.

★ but when she does warm up to you over time (and your effort) you get to see through her mask, inside she’s warm and caring, very protective over those she loves.

★ she grows more found of you and soon enough realises she’s into you, while you live your clueless life about her feelings, she decides to get advice from the only person she actually trusts to help her quietly, she doesn’t want this to be a big deal, so she goes to Kate Bishop.

★ she found this whole thing very uncomfortable, she never dated, never even wished to, but then you came along, you were like a ray of sunshine, brightening her day.

★ eventually she just settled on asking you out for a drink, with the help of Kate she picked out some possible destinations.

★ yelena was clearly anxious all date long. she constantly fidgeted with her rings and glanced over you making sure you enjoyed the date and you found it quite adorable, how much she wanted to impress you.

★ then the two of you headed out and she made Kate Bishop be your driver (which made you laugh when you realised that it was her), the night ended with some city and star gazing, away from people she felt more comfortable to even brush agains your hand.

★ eventually you asked her to be your girlfriend, cause she was way too nervous and would probably take you on another 100 dates before even implying that’s what she wanted. she obviously said yes.

★ when dating yelena you learned a lot more about her, how she continued the habit of sleeping in cuffs, that she learned in the red room. you’ve seen the scars she carried, most touchy one was on her abdomen and it sometimes flared back up, because she had it done way too young.

★ yelena showered you with love and gifts, she loved cuddling, both as the big and small spoon (depending on her and your moods), her gifts were always very thought through, she worried you wouldn’t like them and Kate Bishop had to reassure her. she might’ve not seemed like the type, but she cared A LOT about other’s opinions (obviously only her loved ones, especially you, Kate and Nat).

★ she always listened to you, to your preferences about dates and where to spend weekends and even when she planned your birthday, she made sure it was all you wanted.

★ she’s very protective, men would often bother you and she would deal with them — you didn’t mind, cause that meant getting to see those muscular arms in use.

★ she wasn’t big on public affection, she liked cuddling up at home with a movie on or even cooking together, where you would cook and she would interrupt, by constant touching you.

★ you two moved in together after two years, it was a small cozy apartment, she didn’t want a huge house and you didn’t mind.

★ she also introduced fanny to you, who grew found of you quickly and she really liked that a dog (that was her baby) liked her girlfriend.

★ meeting her family was awkward and full of „Oh my goddd…” & „You can’t say that, dad!” from Yelena and many shared glances between the sisters, but in the end it was worth it, because they loved you!

[washthatheartoutwithsoapy]

POST-RESCUE

NATALIE

HEADCANONS

~

Warnings: Toxic/depressive themes, mentions of drinking, smoking, cocaine - addiction. NSFW under the cut.

A/n: Sorry for the absence, and ik I promised a fic last I was on here, and I have a request in my inbox, both I'm struggling to find the motivation and time for both of them. This just randomly got me with the new mugshot photo, lol. I'll try to get my shit together though and get those things done, I swear.

Masterlist

☆ Thought she couldn't smoke and drink any more than she did precrash? Wrong.

☆ Can't sleep without a cigarette or a joint, can't sleep anyways. On rough days it's coke- started about a year or two after being rescued.

☆ Hardly talks, only when she needs to, or to sass or insult someone- not you, usually.

☆ A terrible sleep schedule, probably works a night shift at a bar or gas station, falls asleep at like 3 or 4am- wakes up at noon, the earliest.

☆ Only washes her makeup off when she takes a shower, even then there's still smudged eyeliner residue. Touches it up when she wakes up, but only if it's worn off or is literally smudged across her face.

☆ A relationship that lacks a relationship. The two of you just can't bring yourselfs to break up, you're all each other has left.

☆ Bailing her out of jail, drink, smoke, sex, smoke, sleep, repeat.

☆ Been arrested for stealing, illegal drug use, assault - only once...

☆ It's a struggle to be vulnerable with each other despite all that you've gone through together, you don't talk much.

☆ When she has nightmares she doesn't want to talk, wants to go outside and smoke, walk, might take you with her sometimes, but its silent. Doesn't want refuses comfort.

☆ When you have nightmares she's not void of comfort, her face doesn't show it, but maybe she's just so used to it, she treats it like a routine. Rubs your back and asks if you want a smoke, "Not real, you know that." Might hold you if she's not high or drunk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NSFW

☆ She's the most vulnerable during sex. That's when the kisses, and touches, and sometimes tears, come out. When she gets the most emotional.

☆ She usually takes control, wanting to make you feel good before herself. Making you cum is usually enough for her.

☆ Fingering or fucking you with her strap with her other hand holding you hips still, lips either at your neck, or hovering over yours, every so often pressing against them, pushing her tongue into your mouth, or biting your lip.

☆ Goes down on you with absolute determination.

☆ But sometimes she let's you go down on her or fuck her, and that's when the tears come out.

☆ She typically gentle with you, but she wants it rough when she's receiving. A lot more vocal and aggressive than before the crash.

☆ "Fuck, fuck, fuck-" "Harder," "Yes, yes, yes," As she bruises your arms and pulls your hair all through tears and gritted teeth.

☆ A part of her is aways embarrassed after those sessions, you have to reassure her. Not directly, because she never told you, but you could tell. Kissing her neck and jaw softly, gentle stroke along her body. No talking.

[thefeverburningalive]

hi love!!

would you be willing to do a billie x fem!best friend!reader? just something sweet - it could either be platonic or them like being two clueless idiots in love, whatever you’d like!!

𝖲𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖣𝖩

billie eilish x fem! reader

a/n: thank you so much for the request! here’s a short and cute little drabble, i hope you enjoy my love <3

genre: fluff

warnings: none!

my requests are open <3

⋆.˚ ⋆.˚✮˚.⋆ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 ⋆.˚✮˚.⋆ ⋆.˚

singing, dancing, laughter, music. this was a typical thursday night for you and billie. it was routine, every thursday night billie comes to your apartment and spends the night. it was a totally normal best friend activity. “sooo what do you wanna listen to? i just started listening to this amazing album, have you ever heard of this singer billy eyelash?” you giggled while billie rolled her eyes playfully at your comments. “you’re sooo funny oh em gee!!” she spoke in a fake valley girl accent which made your stomach erupt with laughter. after the laughing died down you returned to the topic. “okay but actually what do you wanna listen to?” billie gave your question some thought before shrugging her shoulders. “just pick whatever.” you nodded at her response while connecting your phone to the speaker you kept in your living room. “welp i can’t decide either so we’re leaving it up to the dj.”

‘what’s up y/n, this is your dj x…’

upbeat music started to play through the speakers, and for the first few songs, you and billie just sat comfortably on your couch and talked. conversations where never awkward or uncomfortable with billie, she’s always been your person. it’d be hard to deny the fact that as your friendship progressed over the years- you found yourself becoming a bit smitten with your best friend. falling for your best friend was such a cliche, and you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. billie’s always had a flirtatious personality, so you could just never be certain how she felt about you. in turn you pushed those feelings deep down and reminded yourself that she’s too important in your life to lose over some silly crush.

about four songs in, pink pony club by chappell roan started playing, which billie immediately stood up and grabbed your arm. “dude dance with me right fucking now i LOVE this song.” she pulled you up before she even finished her sentance, making more laughs escape from your lips. the two of you jumped up and down and sang at the top of your lungs, using tv remotes as microphones and putting on the best worst performance ever. when one banger ended, another one began, which turned into fifteen minutes of chaotic dance karaoke. after the last song finished out, both of you where out of breath, but wore the biggest smile anyway.

‘next up, we’re gonna change the vibe to something slower..’

the sound of thrill of your love by elvis presley soon echoed throughout your apartment. being that this was a slow and romantic song, you go to sit down with a sigh- slightly sad the moment with billie was over. before your body could reach the couch, you feel soft fingers intertwine with yours. your eyes meet billie’s as you turn around. “what you don’t wanna slow dance with meeee?” billie spoke in a slightly joking tone, but it was mixed with something you couldn’t put your finger on. a smile spread across your lips as she pulled you back to the center of the room where you’d been before. “i guess you may have this dance eilish.” billie grins at your response. she takes a step closer, allowing you to be engulfed by the smell of her rich musky perfume. she gently places her hands on your hips, holding them as if she’d done it a million times before. “is this okay?” she spoke in a soft voice, barley above a whisper. the intimacy of the moment sent butterflies through your stomach. not trusting the stability of your voice, you simply nodded yes.

trying to casually go with the flow, you put your hands on her shoulders. the lack of space between you and the best friend you may or may not be in love with was making your heart rate spike. she smiled and hummed along with the song, slowly swaying the two of you back and fourth. you eventually eased into the moment, allowing yourself to relax and just go about naturally. billie noticed you start to relax which made her smile grow. she removed her hands and proceeded to twirl you, which caused you to chuckle. after your spin she placed her hands back onto your hips, pulling you even closer. heat started to spread across your cheeks, and you proceeded to look down to avoid her eye contact. her right arm slid up from your hip to cup your cheek- forcing you to hold eye contact. her icy blue eyes captivated yours. “billie..?” it felt like if you spoke any louder than a whisper, the moment would shatter like glass. without a word- billie leaned down and place a soft kiss apon your lips.

after the realization hit you, you closed your eyes and melted into the kiss. it was soft and gentle. you moved your arms to hang around her neck instead of her shoulders, and she once again pulled you impossibly closer. the kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like eons. the loss of her lips on yours caused you to open your eyes. it felt like your entire body was on fire from the amount of nervousness you felt. billie had a soft smile on her face as her thumb rubbed up and down on your cheek. “i’m glad i got this dance.” billie’s words pulled more giggles from your lips. “i’m glad i put on my dj.”

[therealbeachfox]

Dick, Age 14: "Out of every single Villain-With-Boobs my Kinda Dad macks on, you are by far my least favorite.

Talia: "Oh, poor child. Is it because of the-"

Dick: "Murder. It's because of the murder. Also, you're creepy, your dad is creepy, and your secret cult-army of assassins are super mega creepy, and also you dress like what a white guy in the 70s thought Turkish harem girls looked like if they were ninjas."

Talia: "I was going to say, is it because you know how much I absolutely loath you for being my Beloved's first child despite all my efforts?"

Dick: "That's just part of the creepy thing I already mentioned. I wish you'd fuck off back to Lazarus Land and never return."

Talia: "I do look forward to the day when my Beloved realizes you are nothing but a shackle holding him back from his full potential and cuts you loose like he should've years ago."

=10-15 years later it's kinda hard to tell=

Dick: "And understand that the only reason I'm allowing this visit is because Damian himself asked for it. If I hear a single word about clones or possessions or any sort of ritual of any kind, I'll-"

Talia: "Yes, yes, oaths and vengeance and retribution in the night. Something I'm sure neither of us has ever heard a hundred times already. Did you remember to pack his League weaponry this time? Properly?"

Dick: "Yes. And I hope they somehow wind up in your throat."

Talia: "Such sweet words you have, dear Richard. Small wonder there's never been an attempt to bring you under our gentle wing."

Dick: "Believe me, I take the fact that I'm the only member of this family over the age of 16 no al'Ghul has ever tried to fuck as a badge of honor and pride."

Talia: "And here you are, somehow a part of our family regardless. How cruel Fate can be."

Dick: "Get the fuck out of my city. And remember that Damian needs to submit those online tests before midnight on Sunday. And also that I despise you."

Talia: "I'm sure we'll mana-"

Dick: "OUT"

DICK GRAYSON and TALIA AL GHUL coparenting is such a cruel and unusual punishment for both of them but also for damian. I know they don’t do a good job of it either it’s a shitshow in the way typically only brought on by an acrimonious divorce. First time these behaviors have been seen outside of a walmart parking lot weekend custody swap

[kilojulietsierra]

The scene with Ellis asking about the REBOA reminds me of when kids get older and they sit at the adult table and hear all the gossip.

Ellis is definitely Jack’s favorite resident. They have a caring but tough love attitude.

In Jack/Sam world, Ellis is like a younger sister to them and is invited over for holidays if she can’t make it to her family.

Ok so I put this all down stream of consciousness on my lunch break so if it’s weird so be it lol I had fun and that’s what matters!

If you haven’t already check out the other fics I have from this little universe I’ve created!

Save Me From Myself - Masterlist

- Night shift people were night shift people and day shift people were boring as hell. In Parker’s opinion. Day shifters were a little too type a, too put together, too buttoned up and by the book for her taste

- She’d struggled on days. Other residents took things too personally, too much micromanaging, too many patients with toe sprains and head colds asking for doctors notes

- Jack had covered a day shift for Robby and Parker had recognized it in him almost immediately. It was like the night shift attending wanted to crawl out of his skin anytime he thought someone wasn’t looking

- Parker had presented a case to Dr Abbot while he slouched back in one of the desk chairs. She had mumbled not really meaning for him to hear, but not meaning for him to not hear it either “probably don’t get all these pansies on nights. Nobody wants to come in at 3am just so they can get out of work”

- Jack had raised his brows at her tone, “keep in mind Dr Ellis, a lot of the patients in chairs at 3am have been there since shift change” he stood up and caught her eye as he went to step past. He dropped his voice with a smirk, “but, 3am is definitely when all the weirdos come out to play” then he had walked away

- That day there had been a mvc on one of the bridges, a car with 3 occupants had gone through the rail and into the water. Parker had fought to be on the first gurney through the door and Jack had noticed.

- He’d actually noticed a few things about Parker Ellis

- By the end of that shift he caught her by the lockers, “talk to Robby tomorrow. If you want to switch shifts, I’ll sign off”

- If Robby was the sarcastic and goofy but lovable father figure, Jack was the slightly weird, scary until you get to know him, uncle that would teach you how to make grenades out of a bouncy ball and an m80 firecracker

- Parker thrived on night shift w/ Jack. She had her moments sure, she doesn’t know everything, yet, but she’s a hard worker and admits when she’s wrong. She never shies away from Jack pushing her out of her depth. She figured out quick that if Jack didn’t push it was because he didn’t think you could handle it. And that made Parker want it more.

- Jack noticed. Jack liked it. Robby always tried to be fair, tried to never play favorites. Jack didn’t give a fuck, he absolutely played favorites.

- Being Dr Abbots favorite came with unexpected perks.

- Emails with a link and the simple explanation of “read this”

- The hard eye contact and nod when he took a step back “go ahead Dr Ellis”

- “You got this”

- Dr Walsh and Dr Abbot talking to each other in front of Trauma 2 and then Dr Walsh calls out “Ellis, wanna scrub in?” Parker looked to Jack who just gave her the tiniest nod. “Yes ma’am!” Dr Walsh and Abbot exchanged a little smirk and then Walsh was out the door “hustle up before I change my mind!”

- “What’s this?” Ellis looked at the white can of Monster that appeared on the desk in front of her. Jack shrugged “you don’t drink coffee so i grabbed you one of those. Wife drinks the same flavor. Shits terrible for you.”

- Shen bounced on his toes trying to peak over Jacks shoulder as he opened the Yeti lunchbox. “Tacoooos” Parker tried to see “tacos?” Jack looked up as he handed Shen a handful of foil wrapped tacos. “Sam dropped lunch off.” Before she even had time to be bummed Jack pulled out another handful and held them out to her, “Didn’t know what you’d want, she made brisket and fajita chicken.” When she looked confused he waved them in front of her “if you don’t want yours, boy wonder the garbage disposal probably does” he nodded towards Shen. Ellis takes them still cautious, “mine?” Abbot stared back at her, “yeah, yours. Eat fast.”

- The tacos are bomb.

- “going home for thanksgiving?” Jack asked as everyone packed up to leave. “Nah, tickets home are a bitch this time of year.” Ellis shrugs, “just be me and whatever takeout I can track down”

- Jack paused with a hint of a scowl like that was unacceptable “come to the house” “what?” He shrugged “we eat at like five, come over whenever though” Ellis just blinked “doc that’s really generous but you don’t have to” Jack gives her a look like it’s no big deal “Sam and I don’t have family around, so we have friends over. Robby will be there, Walsh, think Garcia is coming and bringing a new girlfriend so that’ll be fun.(sarcasm) Few of the girls Sam works with, neighbors, couple army buddies flew in for the weekend.” He looks up from his phone and smirks when he says “don’t look so scared, it’s not a trap.” Her phone vibrates in her hand with an address. Jack gives her a fist bump as he walks bye “Sam goes all out on the food just sayin’. Oh and if you do come don’t worry about dressing up or anything, we don’t do that”

- Her first thanksgiving with the abbots had been a trip.

- Parker felt a little bit like when she had turned 12 and her folks had let her sit at the grown up table the first time. Because Parker’s a grown up sure, she’s got responsibilities, but the people in this house for thanksgiving are like LEGIT grown ups.

- The house is awesome

- Jack and Sam are like in LOVE love and not shy about it, it’s strange at first but cute and encouraging. #goals

- Robby, Dr Michael Robinavitch ED Chief, gets tipsy and that man has some stories to share

- Everyone talks loud, over the top of each other and laughing. So much laughing.

- Sharing weird and outrageous ER stories because half the people there work in emergency. Pictures included

- Garcia and Walsh are actually nice to Ellis, which gives her a little whiplash but they’re fun and she likes them

- The dinner table is packed with food and people and she thinks it’s exactly how thanksgiving should feel

- She begins to wonder if everyone forgot she and Garcia were technically students because nobody Is treating them like they were. There just part of the gang

- Apparently Sam, Garcia and Walsh are friends. Like tight friends, like the kind that are basically sisters

- Ellis gets invited to girls night, “but don’t tell Jack”

- Everyone hangs out after dinner for drinks and Ellis is living for it

- One of Jacks army buddies makes a joke “if I’d been conscious we all know she would have picked me over Abbot” Parker thinks an argument might breakout but Jack just laughs into his whiskey glass and pulls Sam a little closer, “motherfucker you weren’t unconscious you were dead! I was pumping your heart for you” the guy laughs and rubs at his chest as Jack adds mumbled into his glass, “remember I can stop it just as easy”

- Walsh laughs from her seat on the floor, “first threat of homicide, now it feels like the family holidays I remember!”

- Parker stays to help clean up even though they told her not to worry

- Sam gives her a smile at one point while loading the dishwasher “you know you’re his favorite right?”

- When Sam finds out Ellis is from Long Beach she freaks out “you’re joking! I’m from Carmel Valley, like 2 hours south”

- “You know if you ever need anything you can call? Either of us okay?”

- Ellis can tell she means it

- She sends her home with leftovers, so many leftovers. Bomb ass leftovers.

- After that she spent every thanksgiving with them, it was tradition

- Ellis was beyond grateful she had switched to nights, where she belonged

- Because yeah Abbot was hard on her but she was a better doctor for it

- He also would change the oil in her car when he found out it was 2k miles overdue

- Abbot might pull her off a case for messing up, but he would still let her run point on the next one

- If Ellis had a rough night, almost without fail, she’d get a text from Sam the next morning to set up coffee or brunch

- Ellis had smiled to herself on Dr Kings first official night shift. It was fun to be on the outside looking in. To see Jack do what he does best.

- Because Ellis had been the R2 that just hadn’t felt like she belonged on dayshift

- So every time she saw that big smile and little bounce in Mel’s step after Dr Abbot gave her a “nicely done Dr King”, Ellis smiled to herself and wondered how in the hell Sam was going two fit 2 more chairs at thanksgiving dinner this year

[edutainer2022]

The tighter are my research deadlines the more my mind is willing to write pretty much anything else. I keep being infinitely fascinated by the character parallels and mirrors that Scott and Marion are - heirs to overwhelming legacies that drew different straws in the Brave New Economic Utopia. I'm also, of course, always on the record about their Shakespearian comedic potential. This is a glimpse into a near post Zero-XL future where almost nothing hurts (as much). BEFORE THE DARK is mentioned in passing. Jeff Tracy features briefly but meaningfully. He's extremely amused.

Many thanks, as always, to @janetm74!

CONGLOMERATE

Jeff Tracy's miniholo on the wristcom frowned, as the young woman obviously holding it put a finger to her lips in a universal shooshing gesture.

"Where's my son? What's wrong with Scott?!"

"Shhhhh, Mr. Tracy. He's asleep. It's alright."

The worried frown morphed into bewilderment.

"Asleep? I thought I told you two to cobble together a business plan and security protocols for those reactors. We would need to make a pitch at the Summit first thing Monday."

Lt. Van Arkle shifted her eyes down to her own watch.

"We were. Till about forty minutes ago."

"Well, in that case, please, tell my son that I'll be having company for the evening here at Tracy Tower - Colonel Casey is coming over, a couple of my old buddies from the GDF Headquarters here in NYC, Nik Bandranaik is stopping by. We'll be up quite late. You know how it goes - poker, scotch, cigars, talking ye olde times... It could get quite rowdy."

The name drop of the former World President, now Head of World Government, left Marion unphased. She was used to her late father's mixing and mingling in high places.

"I do, Mr. Tracy."

"Well then, I'll leave you kids to it. We DO need that pitch for the Energy Summit!"

"Understood, Mr. Tracy. We're on it! You have a good evening."

"Jeff, please! Oh, I'm looking forward to!"

The hologram winked out and Marion's gaze caught the incredulous disbelief in the blue eyes, now wide open, peering up at her from her lap.

"Did my Dad just tell me to get lost for the night?!"

"In so many words, yeah!"

It was hard to keep a straight face so she smiled down at him.

"Good nap?"

He was sitting up already on the edge of his jacket in the grass, in a brisk effortless motion that wasn't even a little bit for show. At all. The sheepish dimpled smile added to the boyish impression.

"Sorry about that!"

He gestured in the general direction of her legs tucked in on the larger square footage of the impromptu picnic blanket (Francesco the designer would have his HEAD for that suit!), marigolds peeking around the edges.

They were in Central Park. Declaring a temporary truce and needing more witnesses "not on the Tracy payroll" in case of a involuntary manslaughter, got them to leave the executive floor of the Tracy Tower after a day of "heated discussions" and relocate.

Jeff Tracy put an idea of non-uranium based power sources in the former hotzone areas on the table. It was up to the genius think tank to rescale something akin to a T-drive particle reactor, but nuclear power production and distribution was right up the GDF expert alley. The money, logistics, and security side of things were designated by his father to Scott in a rhetoric that left little room to negotiation. So Lt. Marion Van Arkle, D.Sc., suddenly found herself on loan to Tracy Industries, cramming ideas and protocols with the TI CEO in time for the Global Renewable Energy Summit on Monday. Well, SHE was definitely wasting no time, while he "closed his eyes just for a second" against the sun.

"No worries! But we DO need to get back to work!"

Scott stretched where he was seated mostly in the grass and blinked. A button popped off his shirt, strained to capacity.

"Damn!"

He looked comically bummed, raking the grass for the rogue button.

"Please don't tell me that was your favorite shirt!?"

"What?... Um, no! I mean... It's blue, so I guess. I need to look presentable if I need to rent a hotel room for the night. Since Dad effectively kicked me out."

She was laughing openly by then.

"Scott, you could walk in a Hilton in a beach towel and they'd still rent you a room! Or the whole hotel!"

"Not the way Mom taught me."

His whole face fell again.

"Ah! Bummer!"

"What's wrong?"

"Everything is booked for the Global Summit. Guess I'm homeless tonight. Well... there's a couch in the executive office. Wouldn't be the first time."

He stood up, reaching a hand to help her up, without thinking.

"Let's go!"

She took the offered leverage, but was chewing on her lip, thinking.

"Maybe we don't have to go back to the office. I own a brownstone here."

He never really did ask where she was staying. He presumed - GDF quarters. The quizzical look made the blue eyes almost round. She had already made up her mind and took charge.

"If you're open to the idea of a couch - I got one big enough downstairs. C'mon! We need to finish this!"

She was hastily picking their work tablets and putting her shoes back on.

Scott was still processing, towering over like a tree.

"You own a brownstone in NYC?"

She was all set to go and huffed.

"My brother went to Columbia - I tagged along. Y'know, nuclear physics program. We thought we would make a breakthrough and get the family fortune back on track. Father bought us a brownstone here. When Van Arkle Corp went bankrupt - I spent the last of the money to keep it."

She suddenly found the marigolds in the grass fascinating. There was a brush of warmth past her side as he reached down for the jacket, giving her room to compose herself. Marion was greatful for that.

"Lead the way!"

"You bet!"

***

The old Columbia U shirt was tight for him around the shoulders and a little short, but it was just as well. He took the idea of a quick shower gratefully to clear the cobwebs. The previous day was all a sinkhole in Mexico and an erupted electrical circuit fire. One was still cooling on the landing pad atop Tracy Tower.

He vaguely remembered the Van Arkle "son and heir" now, a year or so older than himself, from when he was very little. Before the Conflict. They were all running about with his own brothers in the sundrenched greenery of the Creighton-Ward estate grounds, while the adults takled in hushed, urgent tones he didn't know to heed then. He knew better now.

Speaking of brothers. No call from Virgil to check in was conspicuous. He was half of a mind to call Alan himself, too, but stilled his hand. The kid was at a sleepover with some gaming buddies at a Convention, taking the opportunity of being in the city for the weekend. Scott had a strong suspicion there would be very little sleep involved, but lots of killing virtual zombies and junk food. Which didn't bother him one bit, honestly. But there would however be a very rumpled mop of blond hair, bleary blue eyes, and a grumpy zombie of a baby brother come morning. Scott couldn't suppress a fond smile. They scheduled a couple of private visits to the universities in NYC and in the tristate area. Just the three of them for now: Alan, Dad, and Scott. Allie was to start school come fall. Which didn't bother Scott either. Not at all. Steeling himself in that resolve he headed back to the studio sitting room.

The sight made him pause in the doorframe. Marion had changed into an oversized knit sweater and curled up on the couch, heeding him no attention, focused on sewing the button back on his shirt. The staple braid to the side got loose through the day, wisps of hair falling over her face. For a moment air caught in his throat. He could see Mom, in the rocking chair at Gran Roca, mending Dad's plaid shirt or one of his brothers', or his own, that didn't make it in one piece through the day on the ranch. Evening light seeping through the windows. In a sudden dizzy flash he could maybe also see their lounge on the island. A red and blue ball and some toy planes scattered on the floor in the Pit. A high-tech crib parked by the desk, rocking gently. He had to blink, once, twice, before making his way to sit on the couch by her side.

"You didn't have to!"

"Ah, it's no problem. The shirt got soiled by the grass too. You can't very well show up to your Old Man like that. I'll throw it in the washer and it'll be as good as new in the morning. "

He had to chuckle at the truth of it. Jeff Tracy rigged a washing machine stranded on a planetoid half a galaxy away.

"Thank you!"

He meant it.

Changing the subject was in order if he didn't want his mind to helpfully draw him any more IDEAS that were never to come to pass. He looked down at the university logo on the shirt he was wearing.

"My brother Alan is considering applying for Columbia. John campaigns for Harvard, OF COURSE, but I guess the kid doesn't want to compete with the Ginger Genius legend. Besides, CU is in the city, he can live in the Tracy Tower."

Which was Scott's personal favorite selling point. Much as he'd love nothing more but for Allie to never grow up and stay where he could protect him.

Marion's face lit up!

"Really! Great choice! My brother and I loved it there. The best times of our life!"

She was silent abruptly. He knew by then, of course, from the files John pulled up the first ever time they "met" in the Van Arkle mine, that she had no surviving family.

"What happened?"

"When the uranium excavation got shut down, Peter wanted to mine deeper. Rare earth ores. He had a plan to get us out of debt! There was an underground explosion... The whole scout party didn't make it out. So, you're obviously NOT keeping the t-shirt, go get your own!"

The nonchance did little to cover the crack in her voice. He made a point to catch the tear-glossed gaze. Loving a brother he knew the insides of down to the finest strings of unspeakable pain and ever present fear of loss.

"Marion, I'm so sorry!"

He meant it too. She knew it.

The moment stretched to the limit he didn't know if he had a right to test. True to herself, Marion was the one to break the spell first. She stood up, balling his shirt and putting the sewing kit away.

"Alright then! I'll go sort this out. If you're any decent in the kitchen, you can put a pot on and start on a salad. We need to eat before we can go back to work!"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!"

He sketched her a mock salute, straightening up. That earned him a now tears-free brown glare. Well, some things in life were a given, at least.

He had a better idea than pasta and salad, though, by way of dinner. In no time delivery car pulled up and they had a whole sitting area stacked with takeaway containers of Michelin star dishes. He might have panicked and ordered one of everything, in case she didn't share his palate.

The evening was seeping into the night. Their energy pitch was not making as much progress as the surprisingly unchallenging chitchat. It might have had something to do with the bottle of wine sent in by the Chef as a compliment.

Marion stifled a yawn. Unlike Scott she didn't get an afternoon nap. He knew it was his cue to let her retire and take up the charitable offer of the couch.

"Maybe you could join us tomorrow to tour Columbia campus? Y'know, give Allie some pointers? He'd appreciate your input. We can then work on the project some more."

He knew he was scrambling. Quite pitifully so. As it turned out he was quite rusty at whatever it is he was going.

Alan was still calling her Murder Maid Marion.

She considered him over the rim of the glass.

"No."

"Oh..."

Well, it was worth a shot.

"Tomorrow's your day to spend with your father and your son."

Oh, indeed! She gave him a pointed Look.

"If the kid enrolls, I'd be happy to give him tips on how to hide from overprotective big brothers and even show him my favorite haunts."

He could feel a warmth wash over his chest. He hadn't felt such lightness in ears. Maybe prematurely, as she was moving to stand up again.

"Now, I think it's time we called it a night. Thanks for the dinner!"

Of course! What exactly was he thinking would happen. Maybe he wasn't. He stood up too, ready to help clean up.

"Leave it!"

He put a gold embossed cardboard box back on the coffee table and was at a loss, for a moment.

"Sure! Um... I guess, if you show me where the quilt is, I'll give the couch a try then. Thanks for letting me crash! Good night!"

She was at the bottom of the stairs by then, sizing him up with the expression he recognized all too well from the first ever time she climbed out of the downed mecha - equal parts exasperation and incredulity aimed at him. She even threw her arms in the air to accentuate disbelief.

"Scott Tracy! Don't be RIDICULOUS!"

So he wasn't.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Clover-Part 4

Jay Halstead x Reader (nicknamed Clover)

After Jay's drunken night you and him spend the following day together.

Warnings:None, I think?

It amazed you how even on your days off, even when you were exhausted that your body would only let you sleep so much. You ended up pushing yourself out of bed a little after seven the following morning. You hadn’t heard Jay moving around any throughout the night so you were guessing once he fell back asleep he’d stayed out.

You still had no idea why it had bothered him so much. Hell you were a trauma nurse in the ED, threats were a part of the job description. After laying there a while you finally decided to go in search of some coffee and breakfast. Maybe he’d come shambling out of his room sooner or later.

You were sitting on the counter, sipping your coffee and picking at a muffin when you heard Jay’s bedroom door open. You leaned over to be able to see when he made it to the end of the hall. He was still fully dressed except for his boots that you and Will had taken off of him, he had at least taken his jacket off sometime throughout the night. His short hair was sticking up and one of his eyes was squinted halfway closed. You laughed lightly “Well good morning sir”

“Morning princess” he greeted, shuffling his way over to where you sat. One of his hands came to rest on your leg as he found a coffee mug in the cabinet then he stepped away to fill the mug. Once he’d made it to his taste he turned back around to face you “Did I tell Will to go away last night?” you nodded “You did. You also told me that you saw why the pjs and sleep wanted to get me into bed” he groaned “I’m sorry Clover” you grinned “It’s fine Jay..but what spurred that?”

Jay couldn’t give you an honest answer because he didn’t have one. He had just kept rolling it over in his head. Why had he flown off the handle like that? You’d gotten threats before, the credible ones were handled correctly. This one wasn’t even credible, it was just when that son of a bitch thought he was man enough to say those things about you? He wanted to rip his damn head off.  “One drink led to one too many?” he offered and you laughed lightly “Well at least Will was there to bring you home, even if you told him to go away because we were talking about you and that was rude”

You hopped down off the counter and nodded towards the other side of the kitchen “There’s muffins. Eat one to soak up that extra alcohol on your stomach, please” he smiled “Yes ma’am” you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek “Good boy” then headed to go get in the shower.

Jay watched you walk out of the kitchen and ran a hand down his face. Yeah he needed to eat something and get a shower himself, wash off what alcohol he still reeked of. Maybe then he’d feel better and his head wouldn’t be so damn muddled.

You walked out of the bathroom and heard Jay moving around the living room. You walked out and he was pulling a shirt over his head. You stopped and leaned against the doorframe with a grin “I mean, I’m not stopping you from walking around the house shirtless by any means. Most women in Chicago would have to pay decent money to get a man that looks like you to show up to their house in full gear and strip down. I just gotta come home from work” 

He shook his head “You’re a damn lunatic Clover” you nodded “Probably but Will swears that’s the reason why me and you have been friends this long so if it got me you, who am I to question it?” he grinned “What are you up to today anyways?” you shrugged “I’m off for the next two days, lucky me. I was going to sleep in but my body said a big fat no on that one. I think I’m just gonna go for a run then see about getting lunch, maybe go shopping”

He nodded and looked down at the fact that he was wearing jeans while you were dressed in athletic leggings “Give me like five minutes to change and slip sneakers on instead of boots and I’ll go with you” you raised an eyebrow “Jay, you were drunk to the point Will had to bring you home last night. Are you sure you’re up to it?” he nodded “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Besides better to sweat it out and you have a better chance of keeping up with me”

You gasped at him “For that one, you’re coming to lunch with me too” he grabbed his chest “The horror! Lunch with my best friend! Someone save me!” you shook your head and looked at your watch “Five minutes starts now Jay. Tick tock” he rolled his eyes and headed to his room “You’re so damn bossy” “Hurry up or I will leave you” you teased and heard him mutter under his breath “Bossy and short. Like a mean little chihuahua” you stepped to the end of the hall and called out “I heard that jackass” he laughed “I meant for you to”

You were sitting across from Jay at the diner, picking at the food on your plate. He cut his eyes up at you “Something wrong with what you order? You wanna trade?” he slid his plate forward and you smiled “No, I’m good” he nodded slowly “Then why are you seeming so far away?”

You shrugged “I guess I’m just a little worn out. These damn shifts Gaffney has us nurses pulling are getting insane. They’re understaffed like hell where we’re concerned. Don’t get me wrong, doctors like Will and Connor are god sent. They respect us and look out for us but some of those dickheads? Maggie ends up threatening to kick them out of her ED” 

The muscle twitching in his jaw told you that you’d said a little too much “Which doctor was a dick to you?” you laughed “No Jay! You can not beat up and or threaten doctors!” he rolled his eyes “Fine, I’ll get Hailey to do it” you shook your head “You’re ridiculous. Well after lunch you’re free to go. I’m going shopping. I need to get a few things that actually aren’t household items” 

“You getting something dirty or something?” he teased with a smirk. You scoffed “Oh yeah, I’m completely hitting the sex shop when we leave here” he stared at you for a moment, probably from the fact that you managed to keep your face dead panned after you said that. “You’re not actually are you?” he asked and you busted out laughing “I need new underwear and bras Jay. It’s a little inappropriate to drag my roommate lingerie shopping with me”

“Hold on now, bras and underwear and lingerie are two completely different things”  he replied and you sighed “Good lord Halstead, either way I have never taken anyone with me to buy those items, I’m not starting by taking you”

“What if I go to a different store while you shop?” he suggested and you waved a hand “It’s your day off too?” he nodded “I’ll do something later, for now I’d rather spend time with you” you shrugged “Free country, just know as soon as I get through I am going home and seeing just how hard I can crash” he laughed “Sounds good to me”

You shook your head “You’re ridiculous” he grinned “And yet how long have you claimed me as your best friend? And I seem to remember getting new titles added? Roommate and bodyguard?” you rolled your eyes “Lets pay so we can go”

You had gone one direction in the mall while Jay went in the other with plans to meet back in the food court in about an hour. You walked through the store, knowing what you were looking for, hell it had been so long since you dated you didn’t really have any lingerie. You had decent bras but not any lingerie. You bought pretty underwear for your damn self because even if you were seeing someone they should be happy with you no matter what you had on under your clothes, hell their end goal should be getting you out of anything anyways.

______________________

You ended up finding what you needed and grabbed a set that was a color that fell somewhere between green and blue on the scale. It had caught your eye and when you touched it the lace was soft as hell and when you tried it on? It was comfortable and looked good on you.

You paid for all your purchases and was pulling your phone out to text Jay as you walked out of the store. “Clove?” you heard Crockett’s voice and cut your eyes up with a smile “Hey” he nodded towards the store “Doing some shopping?” you shrugged “Well you know a girl has to do some shopping every now and then” he grinned and opened his mouth to say something else but your phone chimed with a text from Jay saying Let me guess, frozen yogurt before we go home and nap? You grinned at the message then remembered you were talking to someone.

You looked up “I’m sorry Crockett, um that was Jay. I kind of rode here with him so I gotta get going” he nodded “By all means. I’ll see you at work” you nodded “See you at work” and walked towards the food court texting Jay back Well Mr Halstead, don’t you know a way to a girl’s heart? 

When you made it to the food court Jay was standing next to the frozen yogurt place with a couple bags in his hands. When you got close enough he held one out and you raised an eyebrow “What is this?” he shrugged “I just saw it and thought about you” “Aww you got me a present?” you grinned as you looked in the bag then laughed “Jay!” you pulled the pjs out of the bag. They were the style you normally wore but they had little cop cars and badges all over them. “What the hell Halstead?” you laughed. 

He grinned “I figured you needed a little cop in your wardrobe if we’re sharing a place” you raised an eyebrow “Does that mean I can make you wear something healthcare related?” he grimaced “Nurse, not doctor. Don’t want Will to think I’m wearing anything for him” you shook your head “You’re horrible Jay” he grinned “Come on, I’ll buy your frozen yogurt and get the second flavor you like when you can’t pick between two like always” 

“Ok, maybe you’re not so horrible” you laughed and followed him into the frozen yogurt place after tucking your pjs back into the bag.

It was still fairly early by the time you and Jay got home. You walked through the door and kicked your shoes off immediately. “I’m going to take a shower and get comfortable” you told him and he nodded “That sounds like a good idea” you froze halfway through the living room “Woah, it’s your day off. You don’t want to do anything else?” he shrugged “I want to shower and get comfortable. I may watch a movie or see if a game is on”

You nodded slowly “Ok, just don’t hang out here just because of me ok? I’d feel horrible” he smiled “I’m here because I want to be princess” you smiled “Ok then, want to order chinese in that case?” he grinned “I was already considering it” 

_____________________

After you showered and dried off you changed into the pjs Jay bought you and left your hair down loose. When you walked out into the living room the smell of food hit your nose and your stomach growled. Jay was standing at the counter, wearing a black shirt and those damn grey joggers that should be illegal in all fifty states for the thoughts they caused about your best friend.

“What do we got Halstead?” you asked and he turned around, a broad grin slipping onto his face “Can I please take one picture of you in those?” you laughed “Fine but I get a photo of you” he nodded “Fair enough” you both grabbed your phones and after some consideration you just slipped in front of Jay and let him take both of the photos, his arms around you and you both barely managing to not bust out laughing.

He looked at his phone and smiled “You look adorable but we both look like we’re about to crack” you looked at the photo on your phone and nodded “We really do” you both laid your phones down and started to pick through the takeout. After you both decided what you want you headed for the couch, each of you taking up one end of it. “What are we watching?” you asked and he clicked on a movie. “Chucky?” you asked with a laugh and he shrugged “Why not?”

_______________________

“So” you were turned sideways, facing Jay. “I’m a little worried but go ahead” he laughed. You laid your head on the back of the couch, drawing your knees up under you “How many dates have you had to either turn down bringing home or go to their place since I moved in?”

He laughed “None” “Bullshit” you shook your head and he shrugged “I had a woman over the night before you called me about moving in? That was the last one. I just haven’t had time or the urge to date” you raised an eyebrow “Why?”

He waved a hand at you “What about you? How many dates have you turned down because you’re living with your male detective best friend?” you grinned “None sir. I’ve been working so many shifts, not just that you know yourself how crappy of luck I’ve had with dating” he groaned “Believe me. I know”

You smiled “We really are pathetic” he shrugged “At least we’re together” you nodded “For now” his eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean for now?” “I can’t live with you forever Jay. You’ll find someone eventually. Hard to have a serious relationship with me here” he shook his head “You’re more important to me than anyone else” you felt your heart flip. He didn’t mean it like that but damn telling your heart that was a different thing entirely. 

“Well no reason to worry about that now, is there?” you smiled and he nodded “Nope” you motioned to the tv “Turn another movie on, I don’t feel like going to sleep yet” he grinned “What happened to crashing?” before you could stop the words from falling out you said “That means I can’t spend time with you” the smile he gave you made your entire body warm “Go grab your blanket and pillow. Get comfortable out here”

“You’ll what? Sit here so I can sleep and be with you?” you asked and he stared at you for a moment before nodding “Yeah” 

______________________

You woke up around two in the morning and somehow you and Jay had shifted around to the point that he was laying next to you on the couch, with his arm tucked around you. You knew you should get up, wake him up..something, but it felt so good to be held, especially by him. You always felt so safe in Jay’s arms. He’d always had that ability. It had just gotten stronger since living with him. You went to bed every night knowing you were safe because Jay was in the next room and here? In his arms? You knew nothing could touch you.

You needed the sleep, he needed the sleep. What was the harm? Even if you were a little too happy to fall back asleep in your best friend’s arms, it wasn’t that big of a deal…was it?

@allisonargent144

@nevaehstreater18

@elvenpirate51

@agentafter

[skarabrae-stone]

Also, he specifically thought that Elizabeth wasn't pretty, and mentioned it to his friends, as recounted by Caroline Bingley:

“I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, after they had been dining at Netherfield, ‘She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.’ But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.” “Yes,” replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, “but that was only when I first knew her; for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”

And toward the beginning of the novel:

Mr. Darcy had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty: he had looked at her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it clear to himself and his friends that she had hardly a good feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying. Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was caught by their easy playfulness.

So yeah, Darcy thought she wasn't pretty, and was beneath his notice, mocked her to his friends, insulted her when he knew she could hear him, and was generally a jerk to her and about her.

He began admiring her in spite of himself, and falling in love with and being rejected by her made him realize his own flaws and work to be a better person. What makes him a good person isn't that his bad behavior in the first half of the novel was actually some kind of misunderstanding-- it's that once Elizabeth criticized his behavior, he respected her enough to actually think it through, acknowledge his misconduct, and change his habits of both thought and manner.

I personally feel that Darcy’s “Not handsome enough to tempt me” line is grossly mischaracterized. People seem to read it as him calling Elizabeth too unattractive to be worthy of his interest, but I actually think the subtext was probably more like “no woman is hot enough to tempt me into dancing with a stranger - the thing I find the most awkward of all about meeting new people - nor is anyone hot enough to make me enjoy this party when I Do Not Want To Be Here”

Which, sure, definitely rude to say within earshot of the person you’re specifically talking about, but “she’s good looking but not hot enough to make me have fun at this party I hate” seems more like a kinda regrettable loser take within the moment and less like a personal attack against Lizzy

[myeyebagsaredesigner]

Imma open my mind abt Tim Jason and Duke to you every day now I fucking love them.

Jason, Duke and Tim are almost 24/7 hours on Face Time, talking? No, just being, they're in the same room but still face timing cuz Duke likes to post those "24 hours again with twins 🔥" or smth like that, and sometimes they even talk to eachother through their sleeps

Tim and Duke having a whole ass conversation while sleeping on facetime and Jason is just there laughing when he gets home from patrol at night

Tim and Duke team up to mess with Jason even if they know he'd answer it while awake cuz its just fun.

Jason and Tim are out patrolling together while telling Duke whats happening even thought he's asleep

Even when they are with their respective partners they are on a call [Thought no voice nor camera open] and they just sometimes chime in to say smth abt the convo and leaves again

Tim and Duke also love to use Jason as a pillow

Ah yes, the classic "on call but could easily not be", the times of true friendship. They definitely do that. I don't see how they WOULDN'T!

I feel like it would be a very comforting presence for them, y'know? Like, no one has to be on the call and no one usually has anything that's necessary to talk about, yet they stay on the call because they want to.

The first time Tim stays on call with them overnight, he's very pleasantly surprised. Like, the call has been pretty silent for the past 15 minutes, aside from the background noise coming from Jason's patrol and the light snores from Duke's end. Jason finally goes home and Tim thinks he's probably going to hang up, but Jason just takes his phone with him into the bathroom and turns off his camera.

Something along these lines, I think

Tim: *Internally debating whether he should hang up or not*

Jason, getting home: "Gotta shower.. sleep."

Tim: "Yeah, I should probably, like, do my skincare."

Jason: "'Kay." *Takes phone into bathroom and shuts off camera*

Tim: ..interesting

Jason eventually gets out of the shower and turns his camera back on, just to throw himself into bed and knock out. Tim is left with a weird feeling of 'this kind of makes me happy and wanted in an interesting way, didn't know I could feel that' and goes to bed.

Jason would definitely sleep in, and Tim and Duke would do that think of 'hey Jason, stay sleeping if..' knowing fully well he's still asleep. "Jason, stay sleeping if you think I'm awesome." "Jason, don't say anything if I'm your favorite." "Jason, stay quiet if I can have the last yogurt." Jason does not like this. He will wake up to a half empty closet and a raided fridge, and they'll show him videos they took of him sleeping through their questions as "evidence."

I think it'd be funny if when Jason and Tim are patrolling, they talk to Duke without even realize it. Like they start narrating things they're doing and talking their thoughts through, not because they think they need to tell Duke, but because they subconsciously want him to know and just have a weird urge to narrate themselves. They understand each other, so it's not weird. The other bats are very confused. They make Jason do a blood test one day to test for possible poisons because on patrol he said "I am now loading my gun" while doing just that. They think he has some sort of truth serum. He does not.

They're all so used to being on call with each other, so they never get startled or caught off guard when someone speaks over the phone. It's normal for them, but not for the people around them.

Like, Tim will be silently working on the Batcomputer with Bruce looking at some files or something. Jason randomly sneezes and Bruce almost goes flying out of his chair. He hears Duke mock him with an "achOo" and turns to Tim, who's eyes haven't left the screen. He didn't even know them three were that close. Didn't even know they spoke to each other often. He peers at the screen and sees Duke walking down the isle of a grocery store and Jason's camera off, but he gapes at the call time of 17 hours. He can't imagine why they would be on call for that long if they aren't even talking.

Jason will be with Roy, who's absolutely done with this. He always forgets Jason is on call until Duke or Tim mumble something random and he always gets scared. Jason will say something, and he'll go to answer, only to realize he was talking to the phone.

Duke is sitting on the bus, and the people around him silently peer over to look at his phone. There's two other people on the call, one of them who looks like he'll pass out any minute, and the other who's only showing half his face while he scrolls on his phone. The bus people think they're trying to break a world record. They're sure they have already won.

Since they're on call literally all day, I'm sure their phones are always charging. Like, if they're lounging around the apartment or something it's plugged in to the wall. They carry around packs of portable chargers with them wherever they go. It's a bit.. much.

AND YES!! PILLOW JASON!!

Yes to all physical affection in general, but not the "normal type?" They don't go up to each other and exchange hugs or anything, but they're like always in contact whenever they're physically around each other. Jason will drape himself over them if they're sitting in a chair. They like it, it feels like a weighted blanket. Duke will always be leaning against someone. Sitting back to back, a hand on the shoulder, leaning against their legs when he sits on the floor in front of the couch. Tim will just start poking them. Duke is sitting next to him trying to eat breakfast and he's being rapidly poked in the cheek. Jason's ears are always red because Tim likes to pull at them when he's bored. He'll knock his forehead against their shoulders.

They always find a way to fit on the same couch. Accidental kicks to the face, awkwardly places limbs, an elbow in the side. They are not deterred. It's comfortable in it's own way. They'll all lay on the floor sometimes. Dick walks into the Batcave one day and sees them laying on the mats. Jason is on his stomach, Tim's head is on the back of his shoulder with his arm draped across his back. Duke is laying on Jason's thigh and is hugging one of Tim's stray legs. They're passed out. Dead asleep. Dick doesn't know the last time he saw Tim sleep. He lets it be after a quick picture.

I love them <3

[likeumeanit9497]

made for me | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: it's been three years since they've seen one another, two and a half since they last spoke to one another. but on this night, time seems to stand still as they meet once again.

warnings: SMUT; angst; unprotected p in v; oral (f receiving); handjob; mentions of alcohol; dirty talk; 18+

notes: hey party people...i...have been trying to work on this singular one shot for months. i've been so busy with school (yes, my program goes over the summer how lucky am i!!!!) and have had absolutely no motivation to write more than like a paragraph or two in one sitting. i miss writing and the tumblr community sooo badly literally every single day, but unfortunately i just have to accept the fact that i don't have the free time i had this time last year. so long story short i'm still here and will still be writing whenever i have the time (and inspiration) to, but pls be patient with me if i disappear for months again (and again). i love you all and appreciate the support u all have given me for over a year (WHAT?!?!?) i hope u enjoy this little angsty fic <3333

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

You winced as the tequila burned your throat down to your stomach. Bringing a lime to your lips and sucking desperately, you shut your eyes so that all you could focus on was the sound of blaring music coming from the speakers littered throughout the house. You were at a party, which is not unlike you on a Saturday night. In fact, you couldn’t even remember a weekend that you hadn’t spent stumbling through crowds of people in a strange house — their figures so blurred you couldn’t even see the faces of the men you let take you home at the end of the night.

It was still early, this shot being only your second of the night, but you had a feeling that it would be far from your last. The past week had been especially stressful — you had told your friends that it was your busy work schedule or that finals were coming up, but you knew what the true reason for the stagnant pit in your stomach was. Matt — your best friend since first grade, your first love, and the one who you thought would be your forever — had been rumoured to be back in Boston for the first time since you saw him last, three years ago.

You dropped the lime and leaned against the countertop — hoping that your body language wouldn’t give away your despair but rather lead your friends to believe that the shot was sitting wrong. When he left three years ago, deep-seeded love combined with youthful naivety blinded you to the severity of your distance. You were so certain that no matter what, you and he would be okay and that the love that felt so powerful at the time would never fade.

Only one of those things proved to be true — and after only six months of him living across the country, one gut-wrenching phone call put an end to what you thought would be your forever. You had no idea that, upon picking up that call, you would shatter the years of what was, but it was as though your mouth formed the words without the help of your mind, and once they were spoken aloud, you both dissolved into tears of acceptance. Not because it was what either of you wanted, but because it was what you believed both of you needed.

That was two and a half years ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. He had been busy with his career in LA, and at times you allowed yourself to search him up — watching his YouTube videos with his brothers — just to allow your chest a moment to ache for what once was. Because the truth was, no matter how much you drank or how often you moaned out the name of another man, his face was what haunted your dreams each night. And now, he was allegedly back home — living, breathing within the same time zone; the same zip code as you.

You shuddered, pushing away the thoughts you had been attempting to drink away as you lifted yourself off the counter. Reaching for the bottle of tequila, you were sure you felt eyes on you. And as you began pouring the clear liquid into a shot glass, you nearly lost your grip as your eyes lifted to find the culprit. Because no more than 10 feet in front of you — as though he had been summoned by your disparaging thoughts just moments before — stood Matt.

It was disorienting seeing him in this environment — at 18 years old you and he cared very little for the house parties of your peers. Yet there he stood, a figure so familiar yet somehow completely different. Arms once completely bare now covered in tattoos crossed against his chest while his eyes — the same crystal blue from your dreams — burned your skin as they travelled across it. The room had grown deadly silent; whether that was truly the work of those around you or simply the fact that the blood roaring in your ears muted their chatter, you weren’t sure. But in that moment, you and he were the only ones in that room.

Not a word had been spoken between you two, yet your frantic, searching eyes seemed to have a conversation of their own. After what could have been hours, Matt’s eyes dragged themselves from you before he began heading in the direction of the stairs. Your stomach dropped at the sickeningly familiar tug, as if an invisible string tied you to him and refused to let go. Fingers white against the counter top, you forced your feet to stay in place as your eyes followed his back — a back that now seemed like a canvas of power; each stride of his revealing coiled energy beneath his black t-shirt — waiting for some sort of signal, an invitation for you to come to him.

As he reached the first stair, the signal came in the form of a brief pause and a final look over his shoulder. Your mind had no say at that point — it had long ago surrendered to him — and you began following him in a daze; throwing a brief regard to your friends over your shoulder as you did. Only once he recognized the determined look in your eyes as you headed in his direction did he continue up the stairs, trusting that you were in fact just behind him.

Once you reached the top of the stairs you found him at the end of the short hallway, peeking his head in the door of what you only assumed was a bedroom before taking one last glance at you as his frame slipped past the open door. The upper level of the house was obscenely quiet, and you could hear your heart pounding as you reached the doorway he had just walked through.

The door clicked behind you, and suddenly you were both alone. No more loud music, no more people, just the two of you and the gravity of three years hanging between you. He was standing a few feet away, arms crossed — not defensively, it seemed, just unsure of what to do with his hands now that you were there in front of him. For a moment, the only sound in the room was your breathing. Quiet, but shallow, the kind of breathing that gave away how much restraint was barely holding both of you together.

Closer now, you took a moment to really look at him. He hadn’t changed much. The boyish narrowness you remembered was gone — replaced by the quiet strength of a man who had grown into himself — but the essence of him that you had somehow memorized without realizing was still very much there. But more than anything, the way he looked at you — longingly, desperately, lovingly — that was exactly the same.

“You really came back,” Your voice came out more breathless than you wanted it to. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did he was gracious enough to not react with pity. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and took one small step closer to you. “Why did it take you so long?” You added at nearly a whisper, terrified to hear his answer. “You know why, Y/n.” His voice sent shock waves down your spine. Deeper, the voice of a man, yet still achingly recognizable to the voice of that young boy you met on the first day of school all those years ago.

Your eyes fell in shame from the weight of his reply, knowing that you were the reason he had chosen to stay far away from his home town — his friends, his family — for three years. When you spoke again, your voice had somehow managed to drop even quieter, “Then what made you come back now?” The silence permeated the empty room so immensely that your ears began to ring from the density of it. With your eyes still on the floor, you felt more than saw him move one step closer to you. “The same reason I stayed away for so long.”

His words left his mouth like a confession, and they draped themselves across your skin like a python — the weight of them satisfying but also jarring; threatening to wrap themselves tight around you until your walls cave in. Your eyes flashed back up to his, and upon noticing the question marks swirling within them, he clarified with earth-shattering honesty. “You. It’s always been you.”

The silence after his statement was charged — thick with everything you hadn’t said since that last phone call, with every memory you both buried under the weight of growing up — and growing apart. “I hurt you,” You finally replied, voice thick with emotion as tears began welling in your eyes. Through the blur of your tears, his face seemed to morph into that of his younger self as he fought against his instinct to comfort you. “You did,” He replied, his own words laced with pain, “But I never blamed you for it, not once Y/n.”

You didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, so you just looked at him — studying the faint lines beside his eyes that hadn’t been there before, the shadow of a beard that 18 year old Matt could only dream of growing. “Why not?” You asked, true disbelief trapped in the crack of your voice. Instead of answering your question, he pulled on a weak smile. “You cut your hair.” Subconsciously, you ran your fingers through your shoulder-length hair; about five inches shorter than it was the last time Matt was standing in front of you. “It’s been a long time.” Your reply almost sounded bitter, and you instantly wished you could take it back because how could you possibly blame him for the unilateral decision you made years before?

If he took offence to your tone, he didn’t show it. Instead, he took another step towards you, closing the ice-cold gap between you even more. “I just mean,” You began, letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment as you pulled your trembling lower lip between your teeth, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” There was the air of hesitation between you now, just for a moment, as he struggled to find the words. “I tried to stay away, because it seemed like that’s what you needed,” His words were spoken in the soothing cadence he always used to comfort you all those years ago. “I didn’t want to make it harder than it already was, for both of us.”

It was you who took the next step forward, making it so that you were only inches apart. “Then why are you here nowMatt? And how could you possibly not blame me for what happened between us?” You repeated your question from before, hoping that he wouldn’t ignore it once again. Looking up into his eyes, you recognized the weight of his gaze and the pain buried within it. “Because,” He began, clearing his throat before continuing, “Because I have never been able to stop missing you, and every day without you has felt like a living nightmare. I thought if I stayed away, we would both heal. But instead, I forced myself to endure years of a torture that I knew would never go away unless I saw you again.”

A tear fell from your eye as you watched his face through his confession, each word resonating so deeply within you that it felt like looking into a mirror. “I regretted it the moment I did it, you know.” You replied softly, feeling the years of regret boil over within you, “I was weak.” He shook his head firmly before gently brushing your hair from your face; his familiar touch sending a welcomed shiver down your spine. “You were young. We both were.” His tone was firm, an attempt at freeing you of the guilt that had been slowly eating you alive. You nodded sadly, recognizing his words as truth. “Maybe,” You began, closing the gap so that your chest was pressed against his front, “But I really did love you with everything I had, and I really don’t think I ever stopped.”

Something glimmered in his eyes, then. The same glimmer that had appeared that day on the playground when you had asked him to be your best friend, the day in ninth grade when you had told him that he had been your first crush, and the day in junior year when you had told him you loved him for the very first time. That glimmer had given you so much pride each time you had been the reason for its existence. Another tear fell in relief, as you had long ago accepted that you would never again be witness to it.

His hand slipped from your hair down to your cheek, where he swiped away your salty tears before resuming his movements down your shoulder, down your back, before finally resting in familiarity against your hip. You felt the electricity from his fingertips permeate your skin — shooting throughout your body at the revival of your intimacy. Your hand traveled up to his neck where you toyed with the ends of his hair — slightly longer than it was the last time you had ran your hands through it.

“Did you stop loving me?” You whispered, your lips mere inches from his own. His grip on your hip tightened slightly, pulling you against him even closer than before. “Never.” Was his reply before pulling your lips into his with the slow burn of long-suppressed hunger. The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, like a rediscovery of one another’s mouths after too long apart. Not yet frantic, as you had imagined it would be; just aching.

His tongue brushed against yours with a deep, searching kiss that made your knees weaken. You clutched his shirt, pulling him closer and grounding yourself in his taste, his smell, the gruff sound he made when you moaned against his open mouth. The kiss deepened as his hands slid around your waist, carefully walking you backwards until you were pressed in between him and the wall. When his mouth dropped to the sensitive place on your neck, just below your jaw, that only he knew existed, everything felt too hot, too necessary. You wanted to drink him in — every groan, every sharp scrape of his stubble against your skin, every part of him that you hadn’t touched in years.

You tugged his shirt up, hands dancing across familiar warm skin and foreign muscle. You pressed your palms against his chest, where you felt the rapid thud of his heart below; matching your own. His lips found yours again, and the kiss was deeper — darker. His mouth opened hungrily against yours before strong teeth bit down on your lower lip. A claiming, yes — but not possession. His hands roamed slowly, deliberately. Skimming under your shirt, teasing the bare skin just above the hem of your jeans. A muffled gasp fell from your lips when his fingers travelled higher, delicately brushing the curve of your tit over your bra. You felt his lips curl into a smile against your swollen lips. “Your boobs got bigger.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny the flutter in your stomach from being reacquainted with Matt’s goofy side. “Shut up,” You replied with a giggle before taking his mouth in yours again; not wanting to lose the familiar taste of him on your tongue. With a soft hum, his hand traveled behind your thigh, lifting it until it wrapped around his waist; your hips instinctively grinding into his. You released a gritty moan into his open mouth, and he swallowed the vibrations like it fuelled him.

He pulled at the hem of your shirt, undressing you as though he was afraid you might disappear behind the wall of fabric if he moved too fast — each button, each inch of new skin exposed was met with a soft breath of relief. Once you were in nothing but your bra and thong, Matt lifted you up and carried you to the bed; lowering you gently atop the soft comforter before pausing to look at you as though he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remembered,” He murmured, lowering himself on top of you, kissing your sternum while reaching behind you to unhook your bra with a practiced flick. Discarding the material, you watched as his lips traveled to the underside of your tit, then higher, before taking your pebbled nipple into his warm mouth; circling his tongue until you whined.

“God, I missed you,” He mumbled against your skin as he began fumbling with his belt buckle. Your body responded to his words as though lit on fire by them, and once he was in just his boxers, you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer to you before whispering, “I have dreamt of having you in this way since the last time I saw you.”

He kissed you again then, rougher than before — raw tongue and teeth and years of longing poured into it. Moans slipped between you two as your almost-naked bodies pressed against one another, reconnecting like old friends into a familiar mould. One of his hands slid down your body slowly, between your legs, and as his fingers ran delicately against the warm, damp material of your thong, he groaned. “Still so ready for me,” He uttered against your lips, slipping his fingers under the lacy material and pressing two inside of you just deep enough to make you gasp for air, “Say my name,” He pleaded, his words laced with a longing you had never quite heard from him before, “I need to hear it.”

“Matt,” You moaned, breathless as he began slowly pumping his fingers up into your spongey core.

“Again.” He demanded, picking up his speed slightly — giving you some relief, but not quite enough.

“M-Matt, please,” You begged, your words punctuated by sharp breaths.

He didn’t tease you for long. After hearing the desperation in your tone he pulled his slippery fingers from your core before kissing down your stomach, leaving a trail of your juices along your left leg as he pulled your thong down to your ankles. Now completely exposed, you spread your legs to give him full access to your glistening core — wordlessly begging him to bring you the relief only he can. His mouth traveled from your trembling stomach down to the crest just above your core, hovering there for a moment with his eyes fluttered shut. “Tell me what you want.” He breathed, his voice soft but laced with gruff undertones; giving away just how bad he needed you too. “You,” You replied without hesitation, comfortable in telling the man on his knees in front of you exactly what you needed, “Your mouth. Please, Matt.”

The honesty was all it took, because as soon as the words left your mouth you released a moan at the feeling of his warm tongue against your clit. His tongue moved with slow precision — as though he remembered exactly how to undo you. You threw your head back with a cry, hips bucking against the strong suction of his mouth, but he held you down — savouring every second as if it were something sacred. Through hooded eyes you looked down between your legs, watching Matt’s practiced routine in awe. His eyes, glazed over in sheer satisfaction, locked onto your own as he absorbed every sound, every expression you made in response to the pleasure he was granting you.

Your mouth dropped open in pleasure, fingers knotted in the sheets below you, as he used his powerful tongue to break down your walls. He slipped his thumb inside of you, leaving it there, unmoving, knowing that the slightly-full sensation made your head spin. He used his free hand to push gently against your lower stomach, knowing that the pressure intensified your orgasms tenfold. You moaned on each breath now, your heavy eyes refused to stay open. And once your hands flew to his hair, pressing him firmly against your pulsing core, he responded to the wordless confirmation of your impending orgasm by finally pumping his thumb in and out of you while simultaneously twirling his tongue feverishly against your swollen bundle of nerves.

You violently came undone against his tongue, trembling, moaning his name as if it were the only word you’d ever known. Back arched, you held tightly onto his wavy hair, unsure whether you were pulling him away or closer as the pleasure tore through you in overwhelming waves. Still, he continued to push you through the high, flitting his tongue expertly against your clit as you trembled below him. “Matt!” You cried out, your body so hot with intense pleasure that your skin grew splotchy and red — something it hadn’t done from an orgasm in years.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the pleasure slipped from your fingers. As your loud cries turned to gentle moans of satisfaction, Matt’s deliberate licks transformed into sloppy kisses as he drank up your juices — memorizing the taste of what had just hours before been a memory. When he finally moved up your trembling body, you immediately dragged him into another kiss — reigniting your desperation at the taste of yourself on his lips.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you tugged gently at the elastic on his boxers. You were both flushed and panting, bare skin against skin, yet still it didn’t feel like enough. Matt seemed to feel the same, because without you having to say a word he covered your hand with his own — helping you slide his boxers down. With his mouth on yours hungrily, you couldn’t see his cock, though as soon as you heard the firm slap of it making contact with his stomach, your hand wrapped around it with ease. A grunt escaped his lips and you swallowed it hungrily — relishing the relief that you were able to grant him — as you began pumping his length in just the way he liked it; soft at the base, tighter and with more pressure at the tip.

“No more waiting,” He breathed against your gasping mouth, “I need to feel you.”

With a soft moan, you began guiding his cock to your core. Not with your hand, as that was proven unnecessary, but by the widening of your legs — the damp warmth emanating from your centre enough to act as a gravitational pull to bring his length right to the slippery crest of your opening. Wrapping his strong arm around your waist, he sank into you slowly, both of you gasping at the sensation; the crushing weight of it all. The heat, the stretch, the sensation of home was enough to bring tears of relief to your eyes — mirrored in his anguished face before you.

He pressed his forehead against yours, locking eyes with you as his hips rolled against you as though he couldn’t look away for fear of missing a single second. Your bodies moved as one, slow at first. Then deeper, harder, a shattering rhythm that came to you as easily as breathing. Yet, neither of you rushed. Every movement, every hushed sound, every messy kiss was a memory revived. Your moans were not just out of pleasure, they were the release of years spent missing him.

He placed a hand under your lower back and you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock hit that spongey spot that made your body tremble. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, your jaw, and your chest as the room filled with the wet harmony of two bodies that know one another so well. Everything you never said was finally being spoken in the sound of your arousal as it coated his front; and everything he never said was finally being spoken in the sound of his pelvis spreading the sticky fluid against your inner thighs upon each methodical thrust.

“Made for me.”

His head nestled against your shoulder, where the rumble of his groans burned through your skin. The familiar phrase caused your stomach to do a flip. Those three words had been spoken by Matt thousands of times over the years — both in and out of the bedroom — that the fact that they had fallen from his lips thoughtlessly, as though they had been sitting there waiting to be spoken aloud for years, in a tone of sheer desperation, was enough to tear away any last shred of sanity you had.

You smiled through a breathless gasp, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging at the strands until his mouth met yours again. His kiss was messy, open-mouthed and wet; the kind that said he needed you in every way. He lifted your right leg higher to angle deeper into you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “More,” You pleaded against his swollen lips, “Right there.” You felt his mouth curl into a smile bordering on arrogance, “I know.” Was all he replied with, proving that each of his movements were calculated, as though the years of exploring your body had burned into his memory and he had every intention of giving you exactly what you craved.

He held you there, driving his cock at just the right pace, into just the right spot. Your mouth dropped open, unable to kiss him back as the pleasure building deep within you doubled, and then tripled. “Oh my god, M-Matt—” Your head fell back against his left palm, and he cradled it gently as your toes curled around his waist. “That’s it,” He murmured, dropping his mouth to your exposed neck and deepening his thrusts, “Let go, I’ve got you baby.”

You shuddered, the pressure of your impending orgasm laying heavy against your helpless frame. He thrust into you again — this time deeper, slower. You could tell that his control was fraying, the cords of his muscles tight beneath your hands as you felt him struggle to keep from falling apart himself. Using all of your restraint, you held your own orgasm back as you spoke, “Cum with me,” You whispered, the strain evident in your thin voice, “I want to feel you fill me up.”

You felt his mouth drop open against your damp neck, his body trembling above you as his struggle was intensified by your filthy words. Using all his strength, he lifted himself from the crook of your shoulder to gaze down at you with his dark, hooded eyes. Him before you like this — undone, trembling with need, his body worshipping yours with every movement — was almost more impactful than the physical pleasure itself.

“I love y— Fuck,” He dropped his forehead against yours once again, “I love you.” He whispered, voice scratchy with tension as your heart melted. “I l-love you.” You parroted just as he sank into you one final time, releasing a guttural moan as he buried himself to the hilt as he came, his breath catching in your ear and spurring your own mind-bending release.

Warm ropes of his cum painted your walls as they flexed maniacally around his pulsing length, driving you both to the edge of insanity as your bodies took complete control. And as you moaned, cursed, and cried out one another’s names, it wasn’t just release. It was relief. The kind that settles deep in your chest when something you thought was gone forever finds its way back. It was a homecoming.

Once both of your bodies stilled, you stayed completely still; breathing one another in at last. Time passed, and as your heart rates returned to normal, the sound of the party still very much alive below you returned to you consciousness. Still, neither of you made an attempt at moving, instead you let the weight of what had just happened settle into your veins. Not just the satisfaction, not just the pleasure, but the rediscovery. The ache that had shaped who you and him had become over three years now filled by each other’s presence.

Even once Matt eventually shifted above you, the post-sex lull was evident in the way he delicately pulled himself from your raw core, using his discarded boxers to clean you up before tucking you against his chest — his lips peppering indulgent kisses against your hair as you ran an idle finger along his forearm.

“What happens now?” He asked, his words soft against your hair but laced with an undertone of fear of what your response may be. You look up at his gorgeous face that, while slightly older, you knew you had memorized, offering him a soft smile. His eyes focused on your lips as his hand subconsciously reached for your cheek; his expression one of a man hungry for another innocent taste of your lips. You relaxed into his hand, granting him the kiss —deep, tender, and laced with words unspoken — before replying in a whisper. “Now we stop pretending we ever stopped loving each other.”

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