#the name in my email is just calling out my name over and over again

[1toreyouapart]

The Lies We Tell

***FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE FANFIC THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE***

Summary that tells you nothing: Sometimes everything you ever wanted has been right there, within reach, all along.

CW/TW: Angst, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, jealousy, smut, fingering, PinV, pet names, friends with benefits, mental health (past attempt mentioned), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, more to come as I actually get things written out.

A/N: 4.2k words. I got a little carried away. Smut below the cut. 🫡

Masterlist

You Smell Like Victory

Silence filled the room while she scrolled through Netflix, the titles of shows and movies a blur. Noah worked silently at his desk, responding to a few emails. Something had changed in the kitchen earlier. Such a quick kiss she thought she had imagined it at first. Then the extra touching. Like he was finding every excuse imaginable to have his hands on her. On the small of her back, his hand on her thigh as they sat together on the couch. How when he had passed her to head up here he had grabbed her hand to get her attention, not letting go until she had followed him all the way into his room. The way his hands lingered longer than normal.

The bed shifted as Noah laid next to her, his own gaze fixed on the ceiling. Cautious she glanced over at home, noting the way his brow furrowed slightly. Something was clearly on his mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking of the same things she was.

“Find a movie yet?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked on the ceiling.

“No.” Quinn sighed. She hadn’t been able to focus on any of the titles.

“What about ‘The Nun’? You love that one.”

“You hate it, though.”

“So? You love it. Put it on.”

Quinn arched her brow as she stared down at him. Noah never let her just put on what she wanted without a fight. He was being weird. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

“Alright. Who are you and what have you done with my Noah?”

Noah laughed, finally tearing his gaze away from the ceiling. His warm eyes traveled over her face, pausing ever so briefly on her lips before meeting her eyes again.

“Is it so impossible to believe that maybe I’m just being nice?” He chuckled, nudging her side with his elbow. “Put your stupid movie on.”

Quinn eyed him warily, unsure whether this was one of his pranks or not. Noah always gave her shit about that movie. Was always teasing her every time she jumped, regardless of how many times she had seen it. With a roll of her eyes she shrugged, turning her attention back to the TV.

“Your loss, I guess.” She pushed play.

“Hardly,” he muttered, getting up.

Frowning she watched him grab a pair of sweatpants and head towards the door. Where the hell did he think he was going? The deal was always that they watched the movie and then he changed after. Something was off with him tonight. Then the light shut off.

“Noah! What the fuck?”

“What? Too scared to be alone for two minutes?” He laughed, walking out the door.

“Asshole!” She called after him, his only response laughter as the bathroom door shut behind him.

Quinn’s eyes went back to the TV, heart in her throat. As she watched the two Sisters she sat up, scooting as far back from the TV as possible, like Valak could reach through the stupid TV and grab her. She loved this movie purely because Valak terrified her. Something Noah clearly didn’t understand.

Right as the Sister sacrificed herself, Noah returned, the click of his bedroom door shutting startling her. Her hand clutched at her chest as she turned toward him, wide eyed.

“Noah! You asshole! You left me alone with Valak.”

Noah chuckled, shaking his head as he deposited his clothes into his hamper. She tried really hard not to notice the way his sweats sat low on his hips. Something he couldn’t really help. It was always hard for him to find clothes that fit his tall frame. But still. After the way he had been towards her all evening, it was hard not to notice it. Almost like it was on purpose. The shirt he usually wore for bed was definitely noticeably absent. Tattoos and the abs he had been working so hard on in the gym on full display.

“You’ve seen this movie a thousand times. I think you’re fine.” He motioned for her to scoot forward. “Scoot. Assume the position.”

Quinn followed his direction, scooting forward. Felt the bed shift as he slid into his usual spot behind her, his legs on either side of hers. His long arms wrapped around her, pulling her back against his chest. They always watched movies like this. Usually far more dressed than this, however. She couldn’t help but notice how bare her legs were as his hand landed on her thigh, resting there.

“Hey. Together we make one whole outfit.” Quinn laughed nervously, the movie completely forgotten at this point.

“Strange that both items are actually mine. Are you ever going to give my shirt back?”

Her eyes stayed focused on the hand on her thigh, watched as he started to trace little patterns on her the inside of it. Such a small, simple thing he had probably done countless times over the years, yet tonight it had a dull ache forming right at the apex of her thighs. Quinn swallowed, trying to keep her breathing even.

“Weird way to say our shirt, but okay.”

“You’re a menace, you know that?”

Noah sounded so normal. So nonchalant. Like he wasn’t currently driving her absolutely insane. His fingers trailed just slightly closer to her center and she had to fight to keep any reaction at bay. This was normal, right? He was just being his usual kind of touchy self. Just normal Noah. She was the one being weird.

“If you say so.” Her voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper. She didn’t trust it at this point. Didn’t trust that speaking normally wouldn’t give away exactly what was going through her mind.

His hand slid up her thigh just another fraction of an inch and she sucked in a breath, holding it. Noah’s low chuckle behind her brought her attention away from his hand on her thigh. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Noah?”

“Yes?” he asked, his lips right by her ear.

“What, uh,” his hand inched closer. “What’s up?”

Quinn kicked herself. What’s up? What’s up?! Was she stupid? Jesus Christ.

“See, things have been a little tense like, the entire time I’ve been home. My fault, really. And I think the only way to fix it at this point is to fuck about it.” His hand moved, cupping her through her panties. “Don’t you think we should just fuck it out, Quinn?”

Quinn gasped as he massaged her, using the palm of his hand to apply pressure to her clit. Her hips jerked slightly, a quiet whimper escaping her as liquid heat surged through her body. Helpless she nodded her head, hands gripping the hem of his shirt she wore. Like she had ever had a chance in hell of saying no. Part of her had known the second he led her up here, tossed the shirt she’d worn the night before at her before turning his back so she could change, that this was exactly where things were headed tonight.

“Words, baby. Use your words.” His voice was low, just barely loud enough for only her to hear.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, rocking her hips against his hand.

Noah rewarded her by slipping his hand inside her panties, one long finger rubbing slow, languid circles around her clit. Her back arched, a low groan slipping out of her. Teeth scraped over the side of her throat, his fingers plunging inside of her, curling, stroking, as his palm now pressed against her, massaging her clit as he worked. His free hand slip up her shirt, nails scraping over her belly, tracing a path up to her breast.

Pressure built low in her belly, her heart beating erratically in her chest. She was on the edge, and she wasn’t sure she could stop her impending orgasm even if she tried. Even if she wanted to. He had slowly, systematically worked her up to this point all evening. His fingers captured her nipple, pinching slightly as he tugged, and the pressure in her belly burst, her body tensing as she came, breath hitching as she fought to stay quiet.

“Jesus Christ, Quinn.” He groaned, his fingers still slowly pumping in and out of her as he eased her down from her high. “You’re so fucking sensitive.”

Body trembling she collapsed back against him, trying desperately to catch her breath. She could feel every hard inch of him beneath her, and she couldn’t help the slight hesitation. If what she felt was correct, she was in trouble. Jesus Christ. How the hell did he expect to fit? Did everything on him have to be big?

“And whose fault is that, exactly?” She sighed, running a still trembling hand through her hair. “Teasing me all fucking night. And you call me a menace.”

“Anybody ever tell you that you’re incredibly fucking mouthy?” He laughed, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “You good?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, wincing as he pulled his fingers out of her.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Like you said, I’m sensitive.”

Quinn sat up fully, lifting her shirt and tossing it off to the side. While she appreciated him taking the time to check in with her, she needed more. Needed to get him inside of her. Even if, by her judgement, it would hurt. She trusted him. Knew he would be gentle with her.

Noah brushed her hair off her shoulder, pressing his lips to her skin. Quinn sighed, letting herself relax against him just slightly.

“How do you want to do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He trailed off, his hands going back to her thighs, tracing soothing patterns once more. “What position would be most comfortable for you?”

Quinn thought about it, picturing every position she could think of. She imagined him behind her, and while her favorite position, wasn’t something she was sure she could handle right now. Most of the men she had been with were average sized. He felt much larger. Which meant being in top would be a struggle.

“No one’s ever asked me that before,” she mused. She felt his body tense behind her. “I suppose you on top?”

She didn’t wait for his direction and moved to lay beside him, watching as his head turned to follow her. He made no immediate move to follow her, just watched her as she laid back, holding her hand out to him.

“That’s something we’re going to unpack later.”

Noah moved over her, taking her hand in his. Carefully he pulled her arm up above her head, his eyes raking over her before locking with hers.

“You’re absolutely sure?” He asked, his voice trembling. “You can say stop at anytime and I’ll stop. Like, full stop. You’re the one in control, Quinn.”

“Noah. I’m sure.”

His lips crashed into hers, needing no further encouragement. Her free hand cupped his cheek, hips rocking up against his, desperate to feel him there. Noah’s free arm wrapped around her waist, holding her body against as his lips moved over hers, his own hips rocking against hers, hitting just the right spot.

The two of them moved together, neither in a rush to get to it. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she parted her lips, her soft sigh as his tongue slipped inside her mouth swallowed up by him. While gentle in his exploration of her mouth his hips rocked against hers harder, pressing her down into the mattress. The sensations were at war with each other, nearly driving her over the edge once more. He was everywhere and still not where she needed him.

Noah pulled back, releasing her hand from his. He pulled his hand down to her cheek, running his thumb over her bottom lip, tugging slightly. With a smirk he brushed his lips over her cheek, across her jawline, down her throat. Quinn shivered, breath shaky as he reached her collarbone, the swell of her breast, before pulling her nipple into his mouth, the other one caught between his fingers. Electric waves scorched through her, straight down to her core. She felt his lips curve into a smile as he rocked his hips again before switching sides. With a curse she shifted beneath him, her one free hand tangling in his hair and tugging.

“Noah. Please,” she pleaded, hips lifting against his.

Noah lifted his head, glancing up at her. The sight of him like this, perfectly between her breasts, that lazy grin of his she loved so much on his stupidly perfect face was enough to knock the breath right out of her. He looked like an unsupervised kid in a fucking candy store.

“Do you know how often I’ve tried to picture your tits? Jesus fucking Christ. This is a dream come true. I could die right now and I would die happy. Have you seen these things?!”

Quinn couldn’t help but laugh. She never knew he was this easily pleased. If she had known she might have let him see them a lot sooner. Probably would have saved her a lot of time arguing with him, too.

“Noah. I see them every day. They’re kind of attached to me.”

Noah cleared his throat, still unable to hide the unbridled joy on his face. Boobs. They were just boobs. And he was acting like it was Christmas morning or some shit.

“Right. Back to business. But I have got to play with these more often. Holy shit, dude.”

“NOAH.”

“I’M SORRY!” He laughed, burying his face between them.

Quinn couldn’t help but join in his laughter. It had been just a little too long since she had heard him laugh like this. Months. All over a pair of boobs. He was downright giddy over it. And she loved every second of it. This was her Noah.

Noah pressed his lips in the valley between her breasts, his laughter dying down. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching as he slowly made his way south, stopping to pay extra attention to the spot just under her bellybutton, pressing his lips extra firmly against the scar there. The one her first boyfriend after she had met Noah left. Tears burned her eyes as she watched him drift lower, stopping on her hip, right at the edge of her panties.

“You good, Quinn?” He asked, his voice so gentle she almost forgot what they were doing.

“Yeah.” She nodded her head, forcing the memory away before it could take hold.

Noah slowly hooked his fingers in each side of her panties, his eyes on her, watching her for any signs she wanted to stop, slowly sliding them down her thighs, over her knees. Down around her ankles. And suddenly she was totally naked before him, illuminated only by the light from the movie still playing. The movie she had only watched a couple minutes of so far.

If it had been anyone else watching her so intently she would have been nervous. But it was Noah. The Noah who had seen her at her worst and still stuck around. The one who always took care of her, whether she wanted it or not.

Quinn watched as he stood at the foot of the bed, scrubbing his hand down his face as he looked at her, fully exposed now. Watched as he removed his pants, her eyes going wide when she saw him. There was no way he was going to fit. Oh, fuck.

“Uh, Noah? You could’ve warned me first. I-“ she swallowed. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

Noah chuckled as he knelt between her legs, propping an ankle up on his shoulder. Nerves settled in her stomach, the reality of the situation hitting her. She was about to have sex with her best friend. And while she trusted him whole heartedly, she didn’t quite trust that she would be able to walk afterwards. She was either about to have the most incredible sex of her life, or it wouldn’t work and they would both end up frustrated even more frustrated.

“It’ll fit.” A soft kiss on the inside of her ankle. “Just gotta relax.”

Time slowed to a crawl as he trailed his lips up the inside of her leg, pausing mid thigh. She was about to ask him what he was doing when he attached his mouth to her thigh, sucking a dark mark there. He was marking her. Making sure she didn’t forget this any time soon. Anyone else and she would have been pissed. Instead, for him, her hips lifted in an attempt to urge him closer to where she wanted him.

Noah turned his attention to her other thigh, leaving another mark, this one higher up. Quinn looked down, cheeks flushed when she saw him paused at the apex of her thighs, his own eyes on her as he breathed her in. His impossibly long arms wrapped around her thighs, spreading them further apart than she thought possible, pinning them down. She didn’t think she had ever seen something so beautifully erotic in her life. If this was the only time she got to see him like this, she wanted it etched in her memory forever.

Quinn couldn’t look away, watching as his tongue flicked out, delicately tasting her. Felt his breath on her as he exhaled on a groan. So slowly she was borderline frustrated he traced every part of her with his tongue before completely burying his face in her, slipping his tongue inside of her.

“Fuck,” she gasped, attempting to move her hips against him. “Noah,” she whined, finding herself unable to move.

“Patience, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready.” He sighed, circling her clit with his tongue. “Just a little taste. I promise.”

Quinn all but leapt off the bed as he pulled her into his mouth, shockwaves of pleasure racing throughout her body. Little taste her ass. He was devouring her, all lips and tongue and teeth as she writhed beneath him, another orgasm racing towards her. Another one she was helpless to stop, her body trembling as it slammed into her, knocking the breath from her lungs, his name leaving her lips on a broken cry.

Noah pulled back, dropping a soft kiss on her. Lips pressed to each of her hips, her bellybutton, as he moved up her body, giving her time to steady herself once more. Shaking she closed her eyes, willing her breathing to slow down. He was set on ruining her. She was sure of it.

“Still good?” He asked, peppering little kisses over her face.

“Absolutely,” she laughed weakly.

“Eyes on me, Quinn.” Slowly she opened her eyes, nodding her head. “You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?”

Noah’s eyes searched hers, his brow furrowed slightly, looking for any hint she wanted to stop. Any sign of hesitation. Her hand reached up, fingertips slowly tracing his features, committing him to memory. Things were about to change forever, and she wanted to remember him as he was now. Just her Noah.

“I’m sure.”

Noah shifted, lining himself up with her entrance, and for the first time she saw just how nervous he was. He knew this was going to change everything just as much as she did. And neither of them knew how.

Slowly, gently, he started to ease himself inside of her, their eyes still locked together. Just as the stretch became a little too much he pulled back slightly, dropping his head to press his lips to her shoulder as he pressed forward again, moaning into her skin. It burned slightly as he filled her a little more, but more than that she needed more. Needed to feel him all the way inside her.

“Noah,” she whimpered as he pulled back again, before thrusting into her, nearly completely filling her this time.

“Breathe, baby.” His shook as he lifted his head to look down at her. “Almost there, okay? Just a little more.”

This time he didn’t pull back, instead opting to slide his arms underneath her, pressing her body to his as he surged forward that little bit more, knocking the breath from her lungs. She had never felt this full before. It was somehow too much, yet not enough. She wanted to slow down for a minute, as she knew she should, give herself time to adjust, but needed him to start moving.

“Fuck. So fucking tight,” he groaned, his grip on her tightening. “Good job, baby. You did so good.”

Noah lowered his lips to hers, muffling her moans as he rocked his hips gently, testing her. Her hands clutched at his back, hips lifting to meet his, silently urging him on. It hurt, but only slightly. He moved again, keeping her pressed against him, holding her in place.

“Noah, please,” she pleaded, driven only by the intense need filling her. She needed him to properly fuck her more than she needed oxygen at this point.

“Just don’t wanna hurt you.” He shuddered as she clenched around him. “You’re okay?”

“Yes. Just, please, Noah,” she begged. “Fuck me.”

Noah withdrew painfully slow, before surging forward again, driving into her. Quinn clung to him, burying her face in his neck as he moved, desperately trying to muffle the ungodly noises she was making with every stroke. Sex had always been fun. Great, even. This was different. The way he angled his hips, hitting that spot inside of her every thrust, the feel of him filling her so completely she could feel every little ridge of his cock. The way he didn’t hold back and moaned and spoke directly into her ear. Telling her over and over how it felt being inside of her. She wasn’t going to last long. And from the sound of him, neither would he.

“Fuck, Quinn.” He cursed, his hips moving faster. “Need you to cum, baby.”

His hand slipped between their bodies, thumb pressing against her clit, rubbing frantically. Her teeth sank into his shoulder as she exploded around him, everything going dark briefly. Unable to hold on any longer, her body totally spent she dropped her head back, limbs falling to her sides. With unfocused eyes she watched him, studied the way his lips parted, how his breath hitched as his movements became sloppy, erratic, before he pulled out at the last second, releasing onto her stomach.

Dazed she laid there as he sat back on his heels, his own unfocused gaze falling on her belly. Slowly his eyes lifted to hers, and holding him there she reached down, swiping a finger through his cum. Noah’s jaw dropped just slightly as he watched her bring that finger up to her lips, popping it in her mouth so she could taste him.

��That. You. Fuck.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t even speak. Sexiest thing you could have done right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, studying her a moment longer. “You okay?”

“Fucking fantastic, actually.” Quinn nodded her head, soft smile curving her lips. “10 out of 10. Highly recommend.”

Noah laughed, climbing off the bed to pull his pants back on. She watched in fascination as he kept glancing over at her, that boyish smirk back on his face. Almost like he couldn’t believe he had a naked girl in his bed. One currently covered in his cum, and probably looking absolutely wrecked. If his mission had been to ruin her for other men tonight, she was fairly certain he had accomplished that. Nothing would ever compare to what had just happened.

“I’ll be right back. Gonna grab some stuff so we can get you cleaned up.”

Quinn watched him walk out the door, tossing one last glance back at her. Her eyes fell to the TV to find the movie was long over. She propped herself up on her elbows, studying the mess on her stomach. Jesus, that was a lot.

The door clicked shut again and a warm rag dropped onto her stomach, another pressed between her thighs. Noah gently wiped her clean, tutting at her when she winced, flinching.

“Don’t even,” she grumbled. “You would be tender, too, if you’d just had your body split in half like that.”

“I wanted to be gentle.” Noah chuckled as he tossed the rag he had used between her thighs at his hamper, quickly cleaning up the mess in her stomach.

“Somehow I feel like that wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Hungry? Thirsty?”

Quinn shook her head, flopping back on his bed. All she really wanted right now was sleep. A soft blanket and sleep. She was spent. Exhausted. No energy left.

“Sleep. Just sleep.”

Noah shifted, moving her body around as he pulled the blanket back, laying beside her before pulling the blanket up over them. His arm slid under her, pulling her into his chest, one hand stroking her hair as her eyes closed. His lips pressed against the top of her head as she wrapped an arm and a leg around him, settling into her favorite position to cuddle him in. Whatever the consequences of what they did could be addressed in the morning. For now, she was happy and content.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @mrscevans @supersquirrel1996 @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[madly-enthusiastic]

Uhhh, GUYS.

I think I wrote the first chapter of a Radioapple fanfic...

Just- Tell me if it's good, 'kay? It still doesn't have a name cuz it's a work in progress so, I'm still thinking of a name, I can't ask you for help with the name without telling all the story's AU so, I'll resort to the one thing I trust. My sister.

______

How much love can a parent express for its child?

If you asked Lucifer, he'd start rambling about how much his daughter is an amazing woman, already planning her own hotel with... redemption?

"Redemption, you say?" A voice Lucifer much liked and adored asked.

"Yeah... It's a bit silly and in my opinion, impossible even. But I trust her and I know she'll reach great lengths, heck, maybe Heaven itself!" He answered back, chuckling a bit. "I'm currently helping her to find a territory she can estabilish as hers, I could just give her a part of my territory but she says she wants to win something on her own. Regardless of what she wants or needs, I'm very proud of her!" He soon added, gesturing vaguely to the North as to show where the hotel was most likely to be constructed.

A comfortable minute is passed between them until the soft laugh from Lucifer's company interrupts it.

"Perhaps I'll visit it later."

​_______

Lucifer's dream was interrupted by the sound of his alarm going off, he groggily sat up on his bed before he slipped his hooved feet in his duck slippers. Another dream, another memory, I guess... Lucifer thought as he stood up, letting his wings strech so his back wouldn't feel sore later on.

He grabbed his phone and checked the messages he received. Satan's email for a new meeting... Charlie inviting me over... Goetias- He froze for a minute before he checked his phone again to make sure he didn't misread it. Charlie is inviting me over?!

Needless to say he cleared his agenda just so he could visit his daughter, it has been 7 years since they last spoke after... No! Don't think of that, Lucifer! Think of your precious daughter and how she invited you over despite years of not talking to her! Lucifer interrupted himself from going to dark memories.

He took a deep breath before he called her. Thankfully, Charlie picked up right away as if she was expecting her dad to call back.

"Oh! Hey Dad!" Her voice was like music to Lucifer's ears, it had been so long since he spoke with her, he almost forgot how the sound of his daughter's voice was!

"Hey Char-Char! I... just read your message, are you inviting me over to that hotel of yours? What was it again... The... Happy Hotel?" He asked, unsure if he got the name right.

"Ah, yes, dad! Actually, we changed it to the Hazbin Hotel! I had some help with the name!" She answered, happy that her dad remembered the hotel's old name, it meant that he was interested enough to learn it.

Thank Father. Lucifer thought, letting out a sigh of relief that didn't go past his daughter but she just laughed at it. "Sorry for the reaction, Char-Char... The old name was horrible, I never said anything 'cause I wanted to support you." He explained, chuckling awkwardly.

"It's alright dad! I don't blame you for that, the old name was... something, I guess? Well! What do you think of the new name? Is it hellish and ducking enough for you?"

Lucifer couldn't see Charlie's expression, but he was sure she was grinning while he blushed heavily. He felt embarrassed whenever his daughter brought up his ducks but he tried to ignore her teasing and focus on her question.

"Well... The Hazbin Hotel does have a nice ring to it! I also liked the joke... The 'has been' hotel, it's somewhat clever, I guess!" He answered, the joke was funny enough to make Lucifer laugh, it remembered him of the dad's jokes he used to do with Charlie and his friends.

"I'm happy you like it! Anyway, I was wondering if you could visit us! I mean, I know your agenda is kinda tight and you must be pretty busy with Hell and stuff but—"

"No, no, no! Don't worry about that, I didn't had much to do today," Besides a maybe important meeting with Satan about Hell's hierarchy. Lucifer didn't say that part out loud, though. "I can arrive there in, uh, let me check... Two hours! Is that good for you, Charlie?"

Charlie stayed quiet on the other side of the line before she started jumping out of happiness (Lucifer couldn't see it but he assumed she was jumping by the sound of the ground being hit by a pair of hooves many times). "Yes, yes! That's perfect, dad! It's enough time for me to clean up the place, arrange some decorations and—" She stopped to take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "... Thank you, dad. For everything, really."

Lucifer smiled as he heard his daughter. Even if he thought redemption was impossible, he'd have support Charlie no matter what, he loved his daughter and there was nothing that could change that fact. "Don't thank me sweetie, you were the one that achieved that. Not me, I just helped you through it."

"I'm still thankful, dad. You helped me when I need and you keep helping me whenever I need something... You're an amazing dad. I love you." Lucifer couldn't barely contain the tears that risked to fall from his eyes, but he held back until he answered he loved her back.

As Charlie hang up, Lucifer finally let the tears fall, they fell like a waterfall but he didn't try to stop them. His daughter still loves him after all, she still appreaciates all the silly things he did for her.

After a few minutes of crying, he wiped his eyes and checked the apple shaped clock on his bedroom. Two hours... He sighed, looking around the mess in his room. I could just teleport there but... I should get some things done before I visit Charlie, it's better to do it now than to do it later. And for the next two hours, Lucifer cleaned his room, organized his books, explained the situation to Satan, who was mad at him but he allowed Lucifer to postpone the meeting to Saturday. Thank Father...

When it was finally time to visit Charlie, Lucifer made sure to wear his best clothes. Charlie already knows me but what if she has residents there? Sure, this is Hell but it's better to be safe than sorry!

He took a deep breath before he opened the portal, staring at the hotel's door for two minutes before he stepped in.

It's time to do this.

____

AAAAAnd that's the end... It's more of an epilogue than a chapter, just to give a quick explanation on Charlie's relationship with Lucifer:

• Charlie and Lucifer's relationship is better than in the original series cuz Lucifer would have helped Charlie to create the hotel, they managed to bound through it

• Lucifer was an absent father, that is no difference, what changed was that his friends told him he should try to spend more time with Charlie and that's what he did

• Charlie and Lucifer stopped talking for 7 years after an event on both Charlie and Lucifer's lives that left them scarred, principally on Lucifer's side of the story.

And before you ask, there're some differences on my characters from the originals designs. For example: Lucifer has goat ears, Charlie has them too, both have hooves and it goes that way with many characters! Husk is the same cuz he's already perfect, Angel changed a bit and Nifty is... still Nifty.

Pretty please, tell me your thoughts about it!!

[jrueships]

guess whos not going in at all this week, actually

[overcaffeinated-aro]

I got an email from my grandpa today and all the draft responses I’ve been working on in my head sound like an 18th century letter that’s going to have to travel for months to reach him.

pandemic year 5 really has me feeling like me and a very small handful of people I know are living on an entirely different plane of existence than everyone else

[gonzodangerfeels]

"I just sit around collecting numbers and such"

Go wu go

[midnightorchids]

i am frothing at the mouth at firefighter!Jason🤤

I’ m imagining Jason accidentally bumping into reader who so happens to be a school teacher and he can’t help but flirt just a little bit whilst the class of kids he’s educating on fire safety look at them both with wide eyes😃

I absolutely love this idea so much! I wrote something based off of this ask and low key went a little overboard with world building, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Field trip mornings always created an exciting buzz amongst your students. Their gentle chatter filled the chilly parking lot of the old school and you giggled at their enthusiasm.

The moment brought a sense of nostalgia, it engulfed your heart in a warm embrace. It reminded you of your days in elementary school. The memories of bitter autumn mornings and your teacher’s frustrated attitudes played before your eyes. You smiled thinking about your past and how those small experiences inspired you to pursue a teaching career.

This field trip was a special one as it happened to fall on Halloween Day. The children complained about having to come to school on the holiday, but as soon as you mentioned that they could come costumed, the excitement was back. Your third grade class did not disappoint, they were all dressed in bright costumes for their first ever visit to the fire station.

The bus ride was fairly normal. The children were a mix of both calm and rowdy. You intervened every once in a while when their noise level got too loud, otherwise the students were well behaved.

Entering the fire station was like entering a dream. The foyer of the building was warm and inviting. The heat radiated off of the walls and it made you slip off your coat. There were Halloween decorations coating the pale walls and you watched your children ooh and ahh with excitement.

Your eyes were still scanning the room when a tall man walked over towards you. He wore his uniform around his waist with a black compression shirt that hugged his body. You could see a sleeve of tattoos on display and a thin silver chain peaking through from under his shirt. Despite not wearing your coat anymore, you still felt your body heat up.

You stared at his name tag—Jason, it read. You recalled the name from the numerous emails and phone calls you had exchanged in order to make this tour happen. You always thought his voice was sweet, but you had never imagined him looking like this.

He was attractive—breathtakingly so. His eyes radiated a bright shade of emerald and were full of life. He had heavy bags under his eyes, which, you assumed, were from working long hours at the station. His facial features were sharp. His cheekbones stood high and his hooked nose sat perfectly poised on his face. He looked like a Roman sculpture. Your eyes trailed down to his lips and you noticed a small scar on the right side of his mouth. You felt your fingers twitch, almost as if they were itching to trace the mark.

Jason cleared his throat, pulling you out of your deep trance and you felt goosebumps trailing your skin. You quickly spoke up, trying to ease the tension.

“Hello, my apologies, I completely zoned out, it’s been a long morning,” you said, desperately hoping that he believed the poor excuse you made to justify openly checking out the man.

You suddenly felt even more uncomfortable, you looked to your side only to notice all of your students staring right at you. You felt yourself getting flustered again, but quickly moved past the feeling. You extended your hand to shake Jason’s calloused ones. His eyes raked your figure and he gave you a sly smile.

“It’s okay,” he responded gently. “Shall we get started with the visit,” he changed the subject quickly and you couldn’t be happier.

Jason turned his attention towards the children and greeted them with an enthusiastic expression, his passion for his job clearly reflected in his way of speaking.

He led your tiny class towards the breakout rooms of the fire station. On the way to the rooms, Jason pointed out one of the girl’s Wonder Woman costumes and he shrieked in an endearing sort of way. He kneeled to the girl’s height and handed her a small sticker. She smiled, thanking him. Jason then locked his eyes with yours and called the girl pretty, and you knew at that moment that the comment was not only for her, but for you too. You felt a rush of heat run through your cheeks and up to your ears.

The breakout rooms were similar to the foyer of the fire station. There were little skeletons propped up against the whiteboards and small jack-o-lanterns on each desk.

Once the children had settled, Jason handed the rest of them with fun stickers and pamphlets about fire safety for them to take home. He joked with the kids, and managed to sneak in a fire pun every now and then. He was a good listener, he paid attention to everything the children had to share. You turned your head to the side and silently admired his ability to work with the kids; not everyone could handle a group of eight-year-olds first thing in the morning.

Jason quickly gave the class a presentation about the dangers of fires and the importance of protecting yourselves when dealing with hot objects. It was odd, he wasn’t even trying to hide his flirtatious comments, he’d stare right at you upon the very mention of the word “hot.”

You noticed Jason had a habit of walking around the room, maybe it was to keep the students engaged or maybe he did it for his own reasons. But it had got to the point where he’d brush past you, almost purposefully. The parts of your skin that made contact with his body were on fire.

After the presentation, Jason decided it would be best if the kids got a quick break before continuing the tour of the fire station. You happily agreed, needing a break yourself.

You sat on a chair close to the exit, when one of your students came to you on the verge of tears—the culprit being a paper cut. You cooed at the child, gently cupping their much smaller hand and guiding them to your first aid kit. Unknown to you, Jason was watching the interaction play out.

He hadn’t known you long, but he thought you were stunning. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way your features sat against your skin, and the way you spoke with such eloquence. It was everything he found attractive, but seeing you showcase such patience with the “wounded” child, made his heart race. Not only were you beautiful, but you were kind—to Jason, in the very little time he had known you, you felt like an angel.

“Do you like them,” a small voice suddenly spoke. It was the Wonder Woman from earlier and Jason smiled.

“Ah the lovely Wonder Woman is back,” he replied, ignoring the child’s question. The little girl giggled.

“I think you have a crush on my teacher,” Jason raised his eyebrow. What did this little girl know about crushes? The child laughed again and said, “I think she might like you back.”

“What makes you say that,” Jason inquired, now suddenly interested. The little girl shrugged and made a face.

“I dunno,” and with that, she ran off, leaving Jason confused.

After the break, Jason guided the students to the main hall to show them the fire trucks. The energy was high in the room, the kids were beaming with excitement. The tension between you and Jason only seemed to rise though. With every passing flirtatious comment and every lingering look, you felt yourself getting more anxious. How inappropriate would it be if you asked for his number at the end of the field trip… you caught yourself thinking.

It was as if Jason had read your mind because at the end of the tour, he pulled you aside to thank you for bringing in the children and letting him have the opportunity to teach them. You grinned and also expressed your gratitude. You began to walk towards the students, when Jason grabbed your wrist and held onto you gently. He slipped a piece of paper into your palm and sent you a quick wink before heading out.

You stared at the small paper and slowly opened it.

Inside, the words read in messy lines, “call me,” with a string of numbers. You looked into the direction that Jason left, and smiled to yourself.

You were definitely going to call him.

[0o-junebug-o0]

First Meeting

summary: You're having difficulty with some code so you stop by Penelope's house for help, unaware that she has a guest. Spencer takes one look at you and is immediately head over heels.

genre: fluff

cw: meet cute (is it a meet cute?) completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), season 1 spencer, university/college student reader, talk about research and coding, pov switch from reader to spencer

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: this is an actual error I had this summer when writing my spectra analysis code

You lean back in your chair with a sigh, scowling at the code you’re trying to write. You’re still relatively new to coding, the first time you ever took a class on it was just under two years ago, so this code has taken you significantly more time to write than it would have taken Penelope. But you’ve written it. You read through the code again and rerun it. Everything runs fine, the code should work, but it doesn’t. 

You rub your eyes and groan with frustration. You should be able to get a wavelength solution out of this. The professor you’re doing research with told you what you need to do to get the wavelength solution and then how to use it to find the redshift of the lensed galaxy and the foreground lensing galaxy, but nothing is lining up!

You’ve opened the data, plotted the variation in flux for each line in the image, fit a Gaussian to it to get the brightest point, and converted the pixel value of that point to vacuum wavelength, but none of the wavelengths you’re finding match up with what lines should be present in the spectra for this lamp type!

You briefly consider emailing your professor but decide against it. Even though he told you that asking him things wouldn’t bother him and that it’s his job, you don’t want to take up more of his time than you already have. 

You look around your apartment for anything that might help. Your eyes land on your keychain and the spare key Penelope gave you because she enjoys it when you stop by. You quickly shut your laptop, tucking it under your arm, grab your keys, slip on a pair of shoes, and make your way down the hall to Penelope’s apartment, not bothering to lock the door behind you. 

_____

Spencer sits awkwardly on one of Garcia’s kitchen stools, tapping his fingers on the Tardis mug she had filled with tea and given him. He’s not exactly sure why Garcia invited him over. She said she wanted to bond, but they’ve known each other for almost two years now, and Spencer considers her a good friend, so he doesn’t really know what bonding entails. So far, Garcia has just been bustling around her kitchen preparing snacks and drinks for their Doctor Who marathon.

The lock clicks and Spencer’s head whips toward the door just in time for it to burst open. Spencer freezes and stares at you in awe and confusion. 

“Penny!” you cry, your voice a mixture of a shout and a whine. 

Garcia calls your name with a surprised look. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“What?” you ask. Then you wave your hand flippantly. “Yeah I’m fine, I just need help with some code.” Your eyes land on Spencer and he can feel his heart rate increase. He really hopes his face isn’t as red as it feels. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had someone over,” you say. “I can, um, I can come back later.”

Spencer watches as your posture stiffens slightly and you start to fiddle with your keychain. 

Spencer opens his mouth to reassure you but Garcia beats him to it. “No, no, it’s fine,” she says. “I’ve been wanting you two to meet anyway.” You shoot Spencer a small, awkward smile and wave from across the room when Garcia shares your name. When she introduces him, your eyes widen and you look toward Garcia with an expression Spencer can’t decipher and mouth something to her that makes her laugh loudly. 

Spencer can feel himself flushing at your reaction and takes a sip of his tea to hide his face.

“Anyway!” Garcia says cheerfully. “Do you mind if I help them real quick?”

“Go ahead,” Spencer responds, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It’s difficult with you there, though, all his thoughts suddenly seem much harder to grasp. Like your presence is forcing them aside. 

Your eyes seem to linger on him for a moment before you head over to the counter and set your laptop down. “Right,” you mutter, opening it and entering the password. Spencer listens intently as you describe to Garcia what your code should be doing and he can’t help but smile at the clear passion in your voice. It sends butterflies to his stomach. 

“What do you study?” Spencer blurts out. 

You close your mouth and cock your head at him for a moment. “I’m, uh, I’m studying astrophysics. Specifically strong gravitational lensing. I’ve already made preliminary models of the system and I’m just working on analyzing the spectra now.”

Spencer nods and leans over to look at your code. 

“Do you want to help Penny find the issue?” you ask. You sound a bit nervous and Spencer looks up and smiles what he hopes is a soothing smile.

“I would if I could. I really don’t know how to code, though.”

“Seriously?” you ask. Spencer cocks his head at the tone of surprise in your voice. “Sorry, it’s just that Penny has told me a lot about you and about how you’re a genius and have three PhDs, which is insanely impressive by the way, so I guess I’m just surprised you don’t know something.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” Spencer admits. “Coding and other technological things are some of it. I don’t know too much about astrophysics either.” That’s not exactly true but it isn’t a lie either. He’s read papers on several astrophysical topics but he’s never come across one on strong lensing before. But the truth of the statement is irrelevant, the only reason he said it was to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

You smile and Spencer’s stomach feels like it does a backflip. “I won’t be much help teaching you how to code, Penny would be better for that, but I can tell you about some astro stuff at some point.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Garcia teases and Spencer’s face burns. “Let’s focus.” You nod, clearly also a bit embarrassed, and turn back to your laptop.

“How about I go line by line and tell you what it should do and you let me know if something doesn’t do what I think it does,” you say. Garcia nods and both she and Spencer follow along as you point to and describe each line of code. You get to a printed image of the data file you’re analyzing before Garcia stops you.

“Can you open the file on your computer?” she asks.

You nod and open the file in a new application and move it so it’s side by side with the image in your code. “Wait,” you mutter, glancing back and forth between the two images. “Is that seriously the issue?” Spencer leans forward to get a closer look, the x-axes of the images are flipped. 

You throw your head back with a groan and change the rotation of the file in your code. “I swear, if this works,” you growl. The clear exasperation in your tone makes Spencer chuckle slightly. 

You rerun the code and compare several of the outputs to a list of wavelengths before groaning again and letting your head fall onto the counter. “I hate Python,” you grumble. “Why does it have to switch the axes!” 

Garcia laughs and pats you on the back. You raise your head off the counter and tap your forehead against her shoulder in a gesture Spencer assumes expresses gratitude. “Thanks, Penny,” you sigh. “You’re the best.”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh, and Spencer,” you say, turning to look at him. “We should get lunch sometime. I can tell you about astrophysics and you can tell me about all the crazy things you know.”

“I-I would love that,” Spencer stutters, unable to speak clearly with you looking into his eyes. He's hardly able to wrap his head around the fact that someone as beautiful as you would want to spend more time with him. Spencer's not sure whether you’re asking him on a date or just to go out as friends, but he doesn’t care either way as long as he gets to spend more time with you.

“Great!” you say happily. You stand and cross the room to quickly grab one of Garcia’s pens before returning. You hold the fluffy pink pen with a smile on your face and hold out your hand for his. “May I?” you ask. 

Spencer’s eyes widen and he nods, setting his hand in yours despite his usual aversion to touch. The contact makes his heart feel like it’s about to burst from his chest. You scrawl your number across the back of his hand before handing Spencer the pen and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He writes his number on your hand and watches in a sort of daze as you gather your computer and keys and wave goodbye before leaving.

Spencer jumps slightly as Garcia ruffles his hair. He looks over at her to see a knowing smile on her face. Spencer blushes and hides his face in his hands. “Shut up,” he grumbles, embarrassed.

“No way,” she laughs. “Derek’s going to have a field day with this. Boy genius has a crush!”

_____

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

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[pathologicalreid]

a long way to go | s.r.

in which your family breaks no contact and Spencer reminds you that you're doing the right thing

margovember

kindergarten teacher!reader masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst? (hurt/comfort) content warning: nondescript childhood trauma, kindergarten teacher!reader word count: 1.4k a/n: okay so the request was for angst and it is but the comfort gives fluff. at this point my genres are arbitrary. huge shout out to anyone else who isn't going home for thanksgiving for one reason or another.

Frowning at the email on your computer, you shifted your weight on your rotating chair and leaned your head back into the chair cover that Garcia had crocheted for you.

We’d love for you to join us.

It felt as though someone had tossed a bucket of ice water over your head, years and years of blocking emails and leaving your phone number unlisted had culminated in this moment. It shouldn’t surprise you; you worked at a public school and your email was listed in the faculty directory, but the sight of your father’s name left a sour taste in your mouth.

You were alone in your classroom, the fluorescent lights were turned off, leaving you in the gentle illumination of the string lights that you kept threaded along the walls. Contract hours were over, but you still had papers that needed to be completed. Opening your email after the final bell had thrown a wrench in your plans.

A knock on your door pulled you out of your haze, you looked up to see Spencer standing in the doorway. You checked the time in the corner of your monitor to find that it was nearly six, well into the evening, and you hadn’t even noticed. “Did we have plans?” You asked, alarm rising in your tone, you looked down at your day planner and didn’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t miss something.

“No,” Spencer said immediately, wanting to quell any of your anxieties before they had the chance to develop. “I hadn’t heard from you today, so I might’ve asked Garcia if she had your location on your phone and found that you were at work much later than usual,” he told you, setting his messenger bag on one of your student’s desks before leaning against yours.

You leaned over your desk, setting your chin in your hands and sighing. “You found me,” you mumbled unenthusiastically, eyeing your monitor again.

He’d cut his hair again, in a moment of frustration he’d started snipping, but he ended up calling you for help. It no longer feathered the tops of his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, tilting his head to the side and tapping the bobblehead you kept on your desk.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head, “Nothing, I just have a lot of work to do.” You were designing a holiday coloring page, making the outlines yourself because you didn’t like any of the ones you found on the internet.

“Okay,” Spencer responded, extending his vowels. “Now you’re lying to me,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation; he was merely stating the truth.

It bothered you that he was right, and it bothered you that you lied to him. You shouldn’t feel the need to lie to him because, really, if anyone was going to understand how you felt about the email, it was Spencer. You wedged your hands beneath your thighs, keeping yourself from digging your nails into your palms, “My father sent me an email.”

Dad felt too casual, and his first name felt too detached. He was just your father, someone who had been chosen time and time again over you, and whom you hadn’t spoken to in nearly six years. “When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Five years ago,” you answered distantly, remembering how he’d had the nerve to show up at your college graduation even though the rest of your family knew you weren’t in contact with him. Wetting your lips, you looked back at the email on your screen, “He wants me to spend Thanksgiving with him and his family.” People that you shared no connection to—blood or otherwise—and made up the family that had taken your place in his life.

Spencer straightened up a stack of papers on your desk, the shuffling sound so familiar that it put you at ease, “What do you want to do?”

You pinched your eyebrows together, not used to someone asking for your wants, “I want to reply to him, but I know that engaging with him would be equivalent to opening the floodgates.” Releasing a dam of trauma that wasn’t suited for your kindergarten classroom, “I can’t reply to this email.”

Nodding softly, Spencer studied your eyes with a pained look in his eyes, “I know, honey.”

Taking the computer mouse in your trembling hand, you scrolled over the email and blocked the sender before deleting the email and deleting it from the trash for good measure. Hot tears welled in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I hate him.”

You despised him. A man who you shared blood with just so happened to be someone you hated with bone in your body. Bones he had contributed to that you wished you could pull from your body and replace with an untainted set. What was worse was that he had the ability to influence your emotions like this, he could make you angry with nothing more than digital mail.

Anger felt so useless, it was something he used as armor, and you feared that by being angry, you were becoming like him. You were so horrified by the mere idea of your own anger that it made you cry, and you were terrified of your life becoming one big circle.

They say if you grow up with an angry man in your house, then there will always be an angry man in your house. All you needed was to believe in Spencer’s ability to be gentle, but nothing Spencer did would change the fact that you cried as soon as you were pricked with rage.

Spencer crouched in front of you, taking both of your hands in his larger ones and keeping them warm for you. “You don’t owe them anything,” he told you, watching you carefully with his big brown eyes, “It hurts. I know it hurts right now, but you know that you just did the right thing. I’ll remind you of it for as long as it takes for you to believe it.”

The dam broke then, tears fall from your chin to your lap as Spencer gathered you in his arms to the best of his ability, you tried not to flinch away from his embrace. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t there to hurt you, he was there to help you. He ran his palm flat along your spine as you gave in, burying your face in the crook of his neck and basking in the darkness of your own sorrow.

“You did the right thing,” he muttered softly, pulling away and using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away your tears. “You don’t need to apologize to anyone about it,” he said preemptively, knowing you were about to apologize to him for your show of emotion.

You nodded dazedly, leaning your cheek into his palm as he cupped your face with his hands, “I don’t know what I do now.”

Spencer smiled gently at you, “We’re gonna keep moving forward. Are you hungry? Do you want to get dinner?”

Sighing, you shrugged despondently, looking back at your now blank monitor, “I should get some stuff done.” You wiggled the mouse and typed in your password, you stared blankly at your unfinished coloring page, any and all motivation to finish the drawing had vacated as soon as your father made contact.

“What if,” Spencer started, “You come home with me tonight, and tomorrow I’ll come in with you? You can finish up your work and I’ll get to spend some time with you.” Spencer Reid might just be the only person willing to accompany you to work on a Saturday just because you’re having a hard time.

You bowed your head, “You don’t have to do this, Spence.”

He hummed in response, “I want to, and besides—we have plans to make.”

You frowned, your head lifting so you could look him in the face and inquire for more details, “Plans for what?”

“Thanksgiving,” he responded as if it should’ve been obvious, “You’ll get to join BAUsgiving this year, it’s one of Garcia’s favorite holidays.”

Faltering, your eyes widened at his insistence, and you took a deep breath, “I’m not… I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows incredulously, “Honey, you’re part of that family now. Besides, sometimes I think the team likes you more than me.”

[dumbseee]

matchmaker.

in which max is tired of lando being a single mess, so he plays matchmaker.

lando norris x famous!reader.

fc: sabrina carpenter.

_

liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes, madisonbeer and 1 738 929 others.

y/n: lil photodump 💭

_

madisonbeer: my goddess!! miss you pookie xx

liked by y/n.

user: QUEEN OMGGBSKSKSL

user: she’s addicted to slaying

user: pls come to brazil!!

user: can’t wait to see you in paris!!

user: she’s so pretty wtf

user: Y/N AND MADISON COLLAB WHEN??

user: emails i can’t send is a masterpiece y/n!!

user: JUST ONE CHANGE IM BEGGING AHKSOSLSL

user: the man who’s going to date her is literally the luckiest man on earth

see more.

_

imessages between max and lando.

max:

mate

i have good news

lando:

what?

i’m scared actually

max:

fuck off

it’s for your own sake

lando:

okay NOW i’m terrified

max:

SHUT IT

you’re going on a blind date tonight

lando:

um

no?

max:

wasn’t a question you idiot

be ready at 9

a car will come pick you up

lando:

DHAT

WHAT

MAX ANWSER

WITH WHO???

I REFUSE

_

_

imessages between max and lando.

lando:

max fewtrell.

did you REALLY sent me on a blind date with Y/N FUCKING L/N??

WITHOUT WARNING ME??

i was SO embarrassing

max:

okay for my defense, i didn’t know

i asked kika to find me someone who could match your vibe and apparently it had to be y/n…

BUT apparently it went well so we good

lando:

mate

i fucking spilled my wine on her expensive looking dress

i tripped over my own feet when i got up to pay the bill

i stuttered when she asked for my NAME

i almost slipped when i tried to open the car door for her

i answered « that’s cool » when she told me that the inspiration for her new album was her past and traumatic relationship

max:

holy shit dude

she’s never calling you again that’s for SURE

well at least we tried

lando:

wait till i catch you and kika

i’ll run you over with my car

BOTH OF YOU TRAITORS

max:

i’m innocent

it’s all kika’s fault

_

_

imessages between max, kika and lando.

kika:

YOU COWARD

SHE THINKS YOU DIDN’T LIKE HER

TEXT HER NOW

max:

why are we yelling

kika:

go on twitter and see for yourself

lando:

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DIDN’T LIKE HER??

she should be the one to dislike me i literally made a fool out of myself BECAUSE I WASN’T PREPARED TO MEET MY CELEBRITY CRUSH???

kika:

you should be always prepared lando norris

lando:

omg give me a break

what should i do?

max:

her fans hate you lmao

text her maybe?

kika:

I HAVE A BETTER IDEA

invite her for the miami gp!

yes i’m a genius

lando:

do you want me to crash on the wall francisca?

i will 100% fumble the race if i know she’s watching

max:

oh my god

why are you such a pussy?

lando:

fuck YOU

this is all your fault

kika:

if you don’t invite her, i WILL

lando:

FINE

but if i die i’ll haunt your ass forever

kika:

who knows maybe you’ll finally win a race ;)

mister lando NOwins

lando:

wow i didn’t know mister pierre gasly was a race winner already

max:

okay enough you two

_

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, francisca.cgomes and 2 628 048 others.

y/n: may not know a lot about formula one, but i know for a fact that you deserved that win. i can’t wait to be with you during your journey, pretty boy <3

_

landonorris: i couldn’t ask for a better partner, pretty girl <3

user: YESSS FINALLY

user: omg they’re together??

user: WTFFFABSKSLMSLS

user: no bc why are they so cute??

user: aww she was so happy for him when he won

user: lmao the cameraman kept zooming in on her when lando won ajsksllz

user: PARENTS

user: CONGRATS LANDO

user: he better treat her right

user: they’re cute ngl

see more.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 A Picture of a Cat.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After months of emailing back and forth, you finally meet the person you've been chatting with every day. Then you realize that Spencer is not just a girl's name.

Words: 2,7k.

Warnings & Tags: forensic!reader. with spencer of the early seasons very much in love in mind. the reader has a cat and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and maybe lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This is pretty chaotic and not particularly serious😭 It might be best not to try to make sense of it. They're just two idiots in love, really.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

To say that Spencer was dying of nervousness was not enough to describe his true feelings.

From the moment he woke up this morning without any mail from you in his inbox, he began to feel that his day was going wrong and that it was becoming an endless nightmare. He had lost count of all the times he had checked his mail at work, hoping to see even a one-line message from you to calm his anxiety.

As someone who had received your good morning every day without fail for the last four months that you had been talking to each other daily, he was completely taken aback and couldn't quite put his finger on why. Perhaps he had said something to offend you, or maybe you were just not feeling the spark anymore. But astonishingly, none of your numerous emails that he had taken the time to reread on the jet indicated any cause for concern.

Everything had been so positive with you recently, and he was grateful to have someone to talk to, even if it was through a computer, every time he finished a challenging case and his mind just wanted to focus on something else. He found great comfort in reading about your day and your thoughts every morning, as if it were his newspaper. Even the pictures you always sent him of your cat sleeping in cute poses, eating, or doing anything else made him smile and gave him the idea of adopting a pet, even when he had never thought about the possibility of it before. You always helped him realize some desires he hadn't previously considered.

But suddenly he didn't have any of it. Nothing at all.

Reid's gaze fell once upon the computer on his desk, and his face was illuminated by its light as he reopened his email page for what might have been the thousandth time that day. His fingers tapped over and over on his knee in an attempt to calm his nerves as the page loaded at a slow pace. He took the opportunity to look at the time on the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. It was ten o'clock at night, and yet, once again, there was no trace of you among his messages.

His heart stopped for a second when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he had to close the page he had opened on his computer at full speed before he could even realize who it was.

“Hey, take it easy, kid.” Derek said gently, removing his hand from his shoulder and stepping back a step. His eyes fell on the computer screen, and he was intrigued. “What were you watching?” He asked, with a playful smile.

“N-nothing.” Spencer's voice trembled beyond his control, and he quickly rose from his chair, trying to shield the computer with his body.

You had been his best-kept secret for quite some time, and he was content with that. He enjoyed the idea of maintaining a certain level of privacy in that aspect of his life, as something just between you two. It was more special and romantic that way.

“Nothing? Is that what they call those things now?” Derek inquired, his tone teasing but not unkind. The boy blushed a little, unsure why. “I must admit I'm surprised.”

Reid had to think for a few seconds to figure out what his colleague was talking about, but even before he could understand, Morgan had started speaking again.

“Anyway, turn that off.” He said, pointing to the computer and settling his bag over his shoulder, ready to go. “Someone's waiting for you in the boardroom.”

Almost automatically, Spencer frowned and watched him, waiting for him to provide more information or at least laugh if he was making a joke. However, that didn't occur. Derek didn't laugh at him or anything of that nature.

“Go, Reid. It might be best not to keep the girl waiting.” He gave his friend a gentle pat on the shoulder and a reassuring smile before heading off on the way to the elevator.

A girl? Waiting for him? How?

Spencer took a moment to collect his thoughts, attempting to grasp the meaning behind Derek's words and the circumstances surrounding the supposed visitor. With a measured pace, he stepped away from his desk and proceeded down the hallway, heading for the boardroom with a contemplative demeanor.

As he opened the door and cautiously stepped inside, he was met with the most glorious sight of his life, the one he had waited so long for, the one that now quickened his pulse and seemed to bring him back to life after feeling dead all day.

You.

Standing at the table, looking intently at the various maps and data scattered around the round table in the center of the room. So deep in thought that you were not even aware of his presence. As pretty as in the pictures of you that he had seen.

He couldn't help but let out a little "oh my" at the sight of you. His heart was pounding so hard he thought he could hear it from across the room, or maybe his ears were just ringing from the blood rushing to his head. Reid stood still, looking at you, amazed. He could see how the light touched your hair and how you bit your lip as you concentrated on organizing the papers and a folder in your hand. It was real. It had to be real.

“Hi.” His voice suddenly startled you, making you realize that you were no longer alone and that the door was now open.

You look up from the documents you are examining and see him by chance. It takes you a moment to realize that he works there, and only by the FBI badge in his pants pocket.

“Hi.” You responded after giving him a very obvious visual scan.

Your voice.

It was the first time he'd heard you speak, and it was just as he'd imagined it would be.

“I’m-” You extended your hand in a cordial manner to introduce yourself, but he interrupted.

“I know who you are.” He spoke quickly, smiling at you. “I...I...you are...” Reid cursed himself for stuttering the sentence as his tongue suddenly felt too heavy in his mouth.

“Okay…I'm waiting for someone.” You said it politely, but your tone showed your anxiety.

Oh, you didn't know it was him.

Spencer let out a laugh to relieve the growing tension, but it came out sounding like a cough. He wanted to hit himself. Why was he acting like a child? He was an agent, for God's sake. His job was to talk to complete strangers every day and do entire profiles without getting nervous. He found it hard to understand how that was changing so much now. He took a deep breath and forced himself to speak more clearly.

“Yes, I know.” He replied, sounding a bit nervous. His voice was a little shaky, as if he was straining to get the words out.

“Do you know if this person is coming?” You were standing there with your arms crossed, trying to see if anyone else was coming after him.

At that moment, a look of confusion came over his face. It had not even crossed your mind that it might be him. And although it was to be expected and totally understandable since you had never seen a picture of him, Spencer still felt a twinge of pain and insecurity inside. Perhaps you expected him to look different, or at least not look like a kid playing federal agent.

Maybe it would have been helpful if he had sent you a picture of himself when you sent yours. That way, you might have had a better idea of what to expect. But you were very understanding of his insecurities and lack of comfort with the photos at the time. So he thought everything would be fine anyway…he was so wrong.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath before speaking up. “Actually, it's me.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to hide how nervous he was, with little success.

As soon as he said it, you looked surprised, your mouth slightly open, and then you laughed.

“That's pretty funny.” You said it with a slightly uncomfortable smile. When you realized he wasn't laughing, you added, “Good joke.”

Seeing your reaction, Spencer felt the urge to shrink back and disappear, as if that action could erase the last few seconds of your memory and also erase the feeling he suddenly had of having screwed up in an unfamiliar way. He felt his chest tighten as you asked him again if the person you were waiting for was coming. Was it so hard to believe that he was the person you were talking to? The one who earned your trust and affection?

“I spent several hours on a plane, so please let me know if your colleague is coming.” You spoke again, your tone conveying a hint of disappointment and fatigue. “If I'm a nuisance and Spencer doesn't want to see me, I'd appreciate knowing that.”

Hearing you say his first name gave him an unexpected shiver. It sounded so pleasant and intimate. He took another deep breath and forced herself to speak clearly.

“Wait, he does want to see you.” He paused for a moment, realizing he sounded a bit ridiculous. “I mean, I do. I'm Spencer.”

You're momentarily taken aback, unsure if the guy in front of you is joking. His nervous expression suggests otherwise, and you even entertain the possibility that he might be crazy.

Oh my goodness, you were all alone on a practically empty floor of the FBI offices with an insane agent.

“Just let me know if she's coming or not, please.” You said, taking a few steps back to be at a safe distance from him.

His mouth was so dry he could only manage a soft, hoarse whisper. “She? Did you think I was a girl?”

“You?” You furrowed your brow, feeling more confused and uneasy.

At last, he had a suggestion and reached into his pocket to retrieve his badge, holding it out to you in a gesture that seemed to convey innocence.

“I’m Spencer Reid.” He said, his voice betraying a hint of awkwardness as he was caught off guard by the peculiar turn of events.

You looked at the badge, confused, and slowly looked up, looking into his eyes closely for the first time. You studied his face intently, not really believing it.

“Are you Spencer? My Spencer?” You asked.

When you said “my,” he felt a flutter in his chest. His brain was trying to tell him not to get too invested in the moment, but the vulnerable part of him was moved by the way you said it, like he was all yours. There was a special air of affection there that he liked.

“Yes.” He replied, almost in a whisper. “I am.”

You had to take a moment to process the information, eyes glued to his as you tried to make sense of it. Little by little, you come to understand. This was the person you had been talking to every day for months—the person with whom you had shared your fears, stories, and dreams. Yet you hadn't even asked him for a picture or a call—anything that would have made you realize that he wasn't a woman. It seems almost unreal to you to have fallen into such a confusion.

“I sent pictures of my cat to a man?!” Was the first thing you thought, and it managed to come out of your mouth clearly, in an indignant tone. “I said you were my soulmate!”

Now you were the one who sounded insane.

He stood there for a few moments, looking at you and seeing the different emotions on your face. When he finally spoke, his voice had a hint of insecurity in it.

“Yes…but your cat is cute, and you take good pictures.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking a bit nervous. “Did you know that the evocative power of images is widely studied? They can help us verbalize and even rescue forgotten memories and stories from our collective memory and-” He silences himself. “Sorry.”

When he fell silent, your brain couldn't do the same, and thousands of hard-to-filter words began to appear. You had a strange feeling in your chest, a mixture of familiarity with the way his ramblings sounded to you, just like the emails you loved so much, and confusion about the whole situation.

“This is so strange.” You said to yourself, pacing around the room a couple of times. “I was so stupid-”

He observed you with great interest, trying to discern the thoughts and feelings that were likely swirling in your mind. He could empathize with your confusion, as he was also uncertain about the circumstances. He couldn't blame you for feeling bewildered. You had embarked on your journey with the expectation of meeting a girl named Spencer, but instead, you encountered him. You had envisioned a lovely girl, and you found him—a simple individual, a nerd who had been told on numerous occasions that nerds lacked charm.

“No. You're not.” He said, attempting to manage his desire to bridge the gap and offer solace. “It was a misunderstanding. I should have provided you with more information.”

“How would you even start a conversation by saying you were a man?” You let out a laugh to yourself. “I would have stopped talking to you instantly.”

The sentence hit him right in the heart.

The two of you had the opportunity to communicate by mail when your boss asked you to send reports on several of the autopsies with similarities you had done to the BAU. It was then that a picture of your cat was sent in the middle of the files. Spencer was the one who received it and made an attempt at a joke after your long apology. And then another, and another, until you ended up talking for four months until now.

But if you had known from the beginning that he wasn't a woman, you wouldn't have bothered to get to know him at all.

“I...I don't know what to tell you..” He admitted, sounding a little more vulnerable. “But why did you think I was a woman?”

After a moment's thought, you said. “Your name made me think of a girl I knew in college. And you...you were so nice and sweet in your emails that I found it hard to believe that a man could be like that through a screen.”

When you shared how you perceived him through his emails, it seemed that a certain vulnerability came to light. The situation had turned the tables, and now he was the one standing there trying to process the information.

“I thought I finally had a friend. You know what my job is like...and yours is just as all-consuming.” You spoke again, having to sit for a moment in one of the chairs in the place, trying to calm down. “It would've been great to have someone who understood me as a friend.”

He felt a pang in his heart at your words and was instantly reminded of the times you'd confided in him about how isolated you felt in your lab, surrounded by dead people and computers.

“You can still do that.” He replied without thinking. “I’m still the same person as before, just different packaging.”

For you, it was much more than that. First of all, you trusted him in the beginning because you thought he was a girl; that's why he understood you so much and you had that special connection.

Hell, you'd even told him how bad your period was, and he'd understood so well. He'd given you tips and facts that you didn't know that were beyond your expectations of what the average man knew.

“I mean, I'm still someone you can talk to.” He continued, his hands moving nervously in his pockets. “Unless you...unless you don't feel that way anymore.”

When you finally spoke, your voice sounded almost whispery and gentle. He couldn’t help but lift his gaze from the floor to you, feeling how his body relaxed just a bit with the soft sound of your voice.

“No, no. I still want to talk to you…if you’re my Spencer.”

“I am, all yours.” He replied with a smile.

[atlabeth]

plastic hearts

pt 2

pairing: spencer reid x fem!gideon reader

summary: spencer gets a front row seat to some gideon family matters.

a/n: full 100% credit to @hotchfiles for her gideon!reader idea and thank you sm for allowing me to take a stab at her w spence, i love messy women and this was actually so fun for me lmao. i owe you everything for getting me out of this mini writing slump!! this just reinforces the fact that arguments are my fav thing to write bc this came out of nowhere lmao

wc: 1.1k

warning(s): very messy family relationship lol gideon and reader argue the whole time. reader's got daddy issues and a one-sided grudge against spence. drama and tension and not a good time for anyone but me

“Gideon, I was looking over the most recent case file and I—” 

Spencer is just barely able to avoid stumbling over both his words and himself only after he’s walked halfway into Gideon’s office. He’s nowhere to be found, only a pretty girl around his age sitting in the chair across from his desk with taut lips and a frown that you turn on him. 

“You’re not Gideon,” Spencer says dumbly. 

“Very astute,” you say. “They clearly hire the best here.” 

“W— who are you, exactly?” he asks. “And why are you in Gideon’s office? And where is he?” 

“That’s a lot of questions.” You tilt your head to the side. “Not surprised he hasn’t talked about me.” 

And once again, Spencer finds himself just staring at you. He’s pouring over every interaction he’s had with Jason Gideon since he started working here, every knickknack and tchotchke he’s ever seen on his desk, any pictures he might’ve seen from glimpses at his wallet. 

“You’re Reid, right?” Your eyes narrow in, and despite being around you for no more than a minute, he already feels like he’s doing something wrong. “He talks about you a lot. Probably more than me.” 

“Spencer Reid,” he says. “Uh— Doctor Spencer Reid, actually, but—” Spencer blinks and shakes his head, because why are you the one leading the conversation here? “Who are you, exactly? Because Gideon doesn’t really like visitors and he never really has them anyway and I really have to talk to him about something, so if you could just tell me where he is that would be great.” 

“I don’t know, but I’m surprised you don’t. He seems to like you a lot more than he likes me.” You huff a laugh. “I’m supposed to be here. He probably just forgot about it.”

Spencer opens his mouth to ask you again to just please say your name because the last thing he needs on his hands right now is a security hazard with him as the first line of defense, but he’s saved by the bell, because Gideon walks in right at that moment. 

He stops in his tracks as soon as he crosses the threshold, the pile of files and folders in his hands losing his interest—Spencer doesn’t even think he sees him, the way his eyes immediately lock in on you. He says your name, and Spencer doesn’t have to be a profiler to pick up on the annoyance. He swears he gets a hint of guilt, too. 

“I didn’t know you were coming to the office today,” he says. 

“Figures,” you remark. “We only made plans a week in advance and I only emailed you three times and called you today to make sure. How could you possibly remember?”  

“I never got a call.” 

“You never picked up.” 

“I was busy,” he says. “This job—” 

“I know,” you intone dryly. “It’s always the job.” 

“Gideon, I have a question.”

Spencer knows it’s not the best time, but the tension has shot up and the temperature has shot down, and he would really like to get out of here as soon as possible. Gideon frowns as he looks at him, and if Spencer didn’t know who he was working with he would have thought he was noticing him for the first time. 

“How rude of me.” Gideon walks over to his desk, and his voice is oddly restrained as he gestures at you. “Reid, meet my daughter.” 

He doesn’t even get the chance to say that wasn’t his question, because his eyes nearly burst out of his head as Gideon says your name and, more importantly, your title. 

“Your— your daughter?” 

“There it is,” you say wryly. “It’s heartwarming to know how much you talk about me, Dad.” 

“We don’t need to do this right now,” Gideon says as he sets his files down. He looks more tired than usual. 

“No, I think we do.” You lean forward, resting your elbows on your legs. “Because you finally agreed to fit me into your schedule for once, and instead, I meet boy wonder before I meet you.” 

“You don’t need to bring Reid into this,” he says. 

“I think I do,” you repeat. “Because I know about him and his three PhDs and how he’s the youngest agent here, and he doesn’t even know my name.” You look at Reid, a falsely disarming smile spreading across your lips. “You didn’t know my name, did you? I mean, based on that reaction, I don’t think you knew he had a daughter.” 

Spencer’s mouth opens and nothing comes out. He looks at Gideon for help, and he lets out a deep sigh as he says your name.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Can we reschedule?” 

“No,” you say. “I have a job of my own too, y’know. This was the only spot I could carve out to come see you—I’m blocked in for the next month.” 

“We just got a case,” he says. “We have to brief everyone and be out within the hour.”

“Of course,” you say bombastically. “You always have a goddamn case, Dad.” 

“I have no control over it,” Gideon says, his voice pained. “You know that.” 

“Maybe not over the case, but you have some pull here,” you say. “And you’re in full control when you decide not to pick up the phone.” 

“I didn’t ignore you,” he says, but you’re already shaking your head. 

“That’s not good enough.” You pick your purse up from the ground and sling it over your shoulder, and your glare shifts to Spencer. “Maybe I should get a job here. Maybe you’d give me the same attention you give to him.” 

Spencer blinks. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been more uncomfortable in this office, which is saying something with their field of work. 

“I— I’m sorry,” he stammers, because what else is he supposed to say?

You huff a mirthless laugh and shake your head. “At least one person is,” you mutter. 

You walk out without another word, and Spencer sees Gideon’s jaw clench for just a second. 

He calls out your name, mostly in annoyance with a hint of desperation, and he starts towards the door. He pauses before he can cross the threshold, and he looks at Spencer. 

“Not a word of this leaves this office.” 

Spencer nods far too many times in confirmation, and then Gideon dashes out. He hears him calling your name yet again in the distance. They have a new case, they’ll probably be on the jet within the hour, he still has these files in his hands and that unanswered question, and yet he’s rooted in place with wide eyes. 

“Gideon has a daughter?” he repeats quietly to himself. 

[ienjoywritingfilth]

a sinner i am part v

If its so wrong, why does it feel so good?

trope: Boyfriend's Dad PP character: Joel Miller x f reader this chapter summary: You and Joel promise to stay away from one another but the tension proves too much for either of you to handle. warning: ur girl is getting her oral on, joel's a dirty old man, cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golfand he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. words 3.2k rating: E taglist: @lady-viscera | @cjdign | @fuckthatbazinga | @liciafonseca | @stevie75 | @joelalorian | @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff | @akah565 | @dontknow446 | @pedritosgfreal | @yesjazzywazzylove-blog | @untamedheart81 | @ashleyfilm | @sptbear | @elegantduckturtle | @noneofmyshipsarereal | @blahkateisdone | @hisandsnakes | @wintersquirrel | @shivkillian | @auteurdelabre | @sheepdogchick3 | @moel-jiller | @cuteanimalmama | @gossipgirl-03 | @cowboymarcs | @tahi2006 | @guelyury | @churchofjoemiller | @r3dheadedwitch | @tutarrads | @galway-girlatwork | @supertoga | @ghostofzion | @casssiopeia | @tateypots | @yxtkiwiyxt | @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 | @pastelpinkflowerlife | @inept-the-magnificent | @meleekabenjamin | @stevie75 | @animejunki5 | @zooty-and-fruity | @drunk-and-capable | @lunpycatavenue | @joelssluttyknee | @getitoutofmymindwrites | @swankyorange | @joeldidnothingwrong | @thischarmingmandalorian | @604to647 | @pedr0swh0r3 | @josephquinnswhore

wanna see my other stuff?

part v : fire dance

"Some of the best moments in life are the ones you can't tell anyone about." — Sarah Nader

We'll be home soon luv u

You look at the text Shawn sent you and feel revulsion go through you. Your mouth still tastes of his father's cum, your pussy still soaked, your nipples so hard they throb. 

You can't face Shawn in this state. He'll know something is up. You want to talk to Joel but you don't know what you'd say. 

And you'd have to go into his bedroom where he's been for the last twenty minutes, silent as a statue. 

You decide the pool is a good place to go for further contemplating. You throw on your bikini, grab your sunglasses and beach bag and you slide out the door, careful not to disturb Joel. 

Joel sits on the edge of his bed nauseated as he thinks about what just happened. He's dressed now, his hair drying into loose curls. He can't stop his heart from ping pinging around in his chest. 

What did he just do? He stood in front of you naked, fucked your mouth and urged you to swallow his cum. You, his son's girlfriend. 

How is he supposed to look you in the eyes? How can he face his son? His girlfriend? He threw everything away for five minutes of bliss. 

"We're home!" 

Tess' voice calls out as she and Shawn walk in and he feels his mouth fill with bile. 

You're going to say something, he's sure of it. You're going to confess and his life will be ruined. His son will never speak to him again, Tess will ruin his reputation at work. 

He exits the bedroom with a forced smile on his face. He hopes you won't say anything. 

"You two were fast."

"Yeah coming down wasn't that bad," Shawn says as he glances around. "You see where Sleeping Beauty went?"

"Huh?"

Shawn motions to the empty bedroom. "I thought she'd still be sleeping but the beds empty."

"Is it? I've been working on emails all morning so I guess I didn't hear her leave." 

You must have sneaked out while Joel berated himself. That's fine by him, it gives him time to talk with you before things blow up. 

"Poor man," Tess sympathizers with a kiss to his bearded cheek. "I'm gonna grab a shower."

"I call dibs on the next one," Shawn says distracted as he types on his phone. "I need to get this dirt off."  

"I'm gonna take a walk," Joel announces casually. "I'll bring y'all back something to eat."

He leaves quickly walking over towards the pool of the resort. There are only so many places you can be. 

You're huddled in the empty cabana with your knees drawn up to your chest. You're forehead balances on your kneecaps. 

You look out at the ocean wishing you could just swim home to Texas. This trip that was supposed to be such a dream is just a nightmare. 

You sucked off your boyfriend dad and you liked it. You liked that his cock was so much bigger, that he spoke sweetly to you as you hollowed your cheeks. You loved the expression he wore when he came down your throat. You'd never seen Joel like that before; exposed and domineering. 

"Hi." 

You glance up to see Joel entering the Cabana with a shy wave. Your stomach flips. 

"Hey." 

Joel looks warily at you for a beat before he takes a seat at the end of your lounge chair. Normally the proximity would go unnoticed, but after everything all you can concentrate on is the heat of his body and how good he looks in his swim trunks and t-shirt. 

"I don't know what's wrong with me," Joel admits to you. "I can't believe I did that."

"We did that."

"I'm the adult."

"I'm twenty three years old Joel. That's hardly a kid." 

"Since my son is your age you'll have to forgive me, but that's young," Joel says with a sigh. He rubs the crinkled space between his eyebrows. "Something changed on this trip and I don't know how to get it back to where it was."

"I don't know that we can."

You feel sad and Joel watches as you lower your chin to your kneecap. Joel looks into the glittering ocean. 

"I'm just scared about ruining everyone's lives. Not just ours but Shawn and Tess."

"Me too."

Joel exhales long and slow like a deflating balloon. 

"So, what do you think we should do?"

The two of you lock eyes and it's like you're both transported back into that bathroom. You on your knees with his dick in your mouth. Joel feels his cock hardening in the mesh of his swim trunks. You squirm at how aroused you are at the memory. 

"We gotta stay away from each other," you tell him shakily. "We can't be alone like this." 

"You're right," Joel nods emphatically. "It's only a few more days and then we're home and things are back to normal. It'll be fine." 

You feel a bit of hope at this. You straighten, your eyes blinking doe-like with relief. It's not like you saw Joel all the time at home! 

"So we'll just never talk about this again, we can pretend it never happened and after the trip everything can just be how it was with us barely seeing each other."

"Exactly."

"Great." You almost cry relieved tears. A part of you had been so terrified that Joel would want to confess to everything. 

Joel smiles politely but you don't miss how his eyes rake over your flimsy swimsuit. 

"I should get back," he murmurs, eyes stuck on your hardening nipples. "For what it's worth I'm sorry I asked you to... Do that back there." 

Your pussy has a heartbeat right now. You can't stop remembering how it felt to make him cum. 

You'll swallow mine won't you baby girl?

Your eyes shut tightly as you try to block out the images. 

"We don't have to talk about it Joel." 

By the time you open your eyes to look at him he's gone. 

Shawn and you spend the day on the beach tanning and swimming while Tess and Joel go into town for a coffee tour

Walking around the plantation hand in hand with Tess Joel tries to focus on how they roast their beans, the process that makes their coffee less acidic. 

But all he can think about is how you looked on your knees for him. The way you looked stuffed full him, of you knowing how wrong it was. What would it be like to sink into your warm pussy? 

His cock is weeping by the time they're back at the rental car and Tess is amused as Joel drives them back to the resort. 

"Joel what's gotten into you?" Tess giggles as her hand squeezes his cock. "You're never this horny."  

"Must be being on vacation," Joel says with a charming grin. "You wanna help me out with it?"

Tess giggles and looks around the fairly unoccupied road. Joel groans as he feels her unzip his shorts. 

He grunts when he feels her mouth descend over the head of his cock. He keeps his eyes on the road, sure to keep her shielded from the passing cars.

"That's it, just like that." 

She bobs her head slowly up and down and hollows her cheeks and it feels good but Joel can't stop the running narration in his head. 

She's not doing it right. You did this little tongue thing that she isn't doing. You took him so deep. 

She moans and he looks at her head in his lap and tries to will his cock to explode

She's getting him there but it's too slow, he needs more friction

His hand goes to the back of Tess ' head, pushing her lightly down to the base and thrusting up into her mouth. He keeps his eyes on the road while he furiously fucks into her wet mouth. 

"Take daddy's thick cock all the way, uh huh, c'mon, gonna cum down your filthy fuckin throat." 

Tess splutters a gag before pulling off of him and glaring. She wipes her drooling mouth with the back of her hand.

"What the fuck was that Joel?"

"What?" Joel asks still hard and flushed as he drives.

"The daddy shit, the aggressive way you just---" Tess trails off shaking her head. "This doesn't feel like you."

Joel's fingers tighten around the steering wheel. He feels disgusting and humiliated all at the same time. 

"Thought we were having a good time," he mutters in shame. 

Tess looks chagrined and tries to make peace. 

"Joel---"

Joel feels heat creeping up his chest as he shoves himself back into his shorts with one hand. 

"Just forget it."

Two days pass in relative tension free fun. You and Joel stay away from one another and feeling guilty you lavish affection onto Shawn. 

Joel rents a cabana for the four of you again, hoping to recapture the innocent fun of the start of the trip, back before he fucked your mouth. 

Shawn seems dedicated to giving you tons of attention, grabbing you at every possible moment. A paranoid part of you is concern that perhaps he knows something is wrong. But he seems happy, almost eager to show you how much he cares. 

"Let's go swim," he suggests before lunch, surprising you. You agree, taking off into the ocean with him. 

Joel watches all of this from behind his sunglasses feeling irritated. Not just because Tess is giving him the cold shoulder, asleep under her hat. You're out there in your bikini, tits spilling out, giggling with Shawn like nothing happened. He knows he should be thankful for it, but he can't stop being pissed off. 

He needs more of you. More time spent in your company even if it is with Tess and Shawn. When the two of you come dripping in from the water he gives you all a broad smile. 

"Hey ya'll wanna check out the fire show tonight? If you do I'll make reservations."

"Yeah," Shawn agrees eagerly. "That sounds awesome."

"Sure," Tess mutters from under her straw hat. 

Joel turns his sights on you standing quietly nearby. "How about you, darlin'?" 

You swallow your nerves.

"I'd love to."

Joel smiles broadly, making his face look even more handsome.

"It's a date." 

Hours later the four of you are ready to leave for the resort. You feel cute in your sundress and Shawn looks great. You can't help but observe that sun-kissed and showered, Joel looks so fucking sexy. 

He and Tess seem a bit tense, but that might just be you projecting. 

"Let's go," Joel says smiling at you when a buzzing emits from his pocket. He brings it out scanning the screen before offering a soft "fuck" under his breath. 

Tess looks at him with raised brows. 

"What's up?" 

Joel continues to scan his phone, exhaling as he reads the highlights of his emails. 

"Fuck. Owens says it's urgent." 

Tess frowns. "I thought you weren't working on this trip."

Joel shoots her a dark look. "Tess I own the company. You know I can't just ignore these."

Tess huffs a sigh before shaking her head and moving out the door. You and Shawn watch after her feeling awkward. 

Joel is already turning to go back to his bedroom where his laptop rests. 

"You guys go, I'll try to make this fast."

Shawn looks disappointed but he nods. He's used to this having grown up with Joel's schedule.  

You and Shawn are hand in hand on the way to the resort when he finally talks. 

"This is why it don't want to take over my Dad's company. I don't want that kind of life, never getting a break."

"Why don't you tell him that?" You ask seriously when you realize Shawn looks like he's near tears. 

"I can't disappoint my dad. I'm all he has."

"He has Tess."

"You think she's gonna stick around with a guy who puts work before everything?"

The theatre in the resort is already busy with people wearing Hawaiian shirts and drinking out of pineapple themed glasses. 

"Should we save my dad a seat?" Shawn asks Tess as you find some free seats. She sighs before shaking her head. 

"Don't bother. Owens never shuts up. Your dad will be on that call for hours." She sighs wearily before flagging down a waiter and ordering gin and tonics for the three of you. The man looks at your wrist frowning. 

"I'm sorry, Miss. I cannot serve you without the band."

"Darn, I forgot," you say as you look at your unadorned wrist. The one you need for resort drinks. "I'll go grab it."

"Hurry, the show is gonna start soon," Shawn frowns up at you. 

"I'll be quick," you insist. Fire dancing wasn't even something you were very interested in anyway. 

You jog back to the bungalow and you're thankful that when you enter Joel is in his bedroom. You can hear him talking in low, urgent tones behind the closed door. 

You slip into your bedroom, looking for the plastic band they give all guests at the start of their vacation. The one that designates if you're old enough to drink. You crawl onto the made bed, sweeping behind where the mattress meets the wall in case it got wedged there. 

Joel's phone call ends sooner than expected. He looks at the time and sees he can still be in time for the fire dancing. He steps out into the hallway when he hears a rustling noise from the opposite bedroom. 

Are they getting broken into?

Joel walks into the second bedroom, investigating the noise and feels his stomach flip. 

You're knelt on the bed, ass in the air as you search for something. Your panties are on full display under your summer dress and Joel can see the outline of your pussy. 

At the sound of Joel entering you twist and look over your shoulder. 

Joel's eyes are stuck on your pussy. And as you realize this you feel your cunt throb. 

"I'm just looking for the drink band." 

Joel doesn't reply before he steals over to your bed, his large hands resting on your hips. He spins you around before urging you backwards. 

"Joel, I----"

"I need to taste your cunt," he tells you in simple terms, pressing you back onto the bed. "Open for me." 

Your face flames and you feel helpless to what's going to happen, because deep down you want it to happen. 

"Joel we shouldn't." 

"Just once," he promises you, urging your thighs apart with his large hands. "Just need to taste it once and never again."

It's pitiful, the same thing he said only days ago when you were on your knees in the bathroom but you don't care. 

"Yea, okay," you nod, already leaning back onto the bed and parting your legs for him. 

Joel kisses his way down your belly before tugging your panties down your legs, widening you for him to inhale and groan.

You're so wet you're drooling and Joel feels his cock tighten painfully at how puffy and needy she is. 

"Pussy this messy just for me?" 

He glances up to see your hooded eyes trained on him. You can only nod. Joel grins a broad white stripe against the tan of his face. 

He throws your legs over his broad shoulders, the sensation of his crisp shirt against the soft of your thighs. Your knees crook, feet bare. 

He doesn't say more, he just licks between the seam of your lips, groaning at the taste. 

"Sweetest fucking cunt I've ever tasted." 

Your eyes cheat to the back of your head at this, hands fisting the bedsheets. He makes out with your pussy, eyes closed and his nose pressing against your swollen clit. 

You know that this is the worst thing you've ever done; falling into bed with your boyfriend's father. But it feels so good. Shawn rarely goes down on you and when he does it's all prodding and poking. Not this sensual slow lick and suckle before giving a rumbling groan, like he can't believe how good you taste. 

Joel builds you up slowly despite time not being on your side. He holds you in place with one arm banded across your waist when you squirm. He keeps sneaking looks between licks to see your mouth hung open wide, moans and whines escaping you. 

Shouldn't be doing this. She's Shawns girlfriend. But look at her fucking body. I'm fucking sick. Fuck she wants this. Sweetest cunt. I'm a bad man. She's gonna cum hard. I'm making her cum so fucking hard, gonna drink her down. 

Your eyes drift down your body to where Joel kneels between your spread thighs. The curls are brushed back from his handsome face, his mouth glistening with your arousal. His dark eyes blaze into yours, a wolfish smile accompanying. 

His fingers dimple your ass as he moves his hands to clutch you, his tongue twisting and curling as you make breathy begging noises for him to keep going. 

Joel can't believe he's doing this and that you're so responsive to his touch. And he can't believe that he's fucking your slot with just his tongue and you're already twitching. 

"I'm so close!" 

Your eyes are on him, glazed and far away. He knows that look, he's seen it on many women. Despite this he hardens further at your expression. 

"Feels good doesn't it," he murmurs before lapping gently at your clit. You whimper and nod, hips rolling. 

"Gonna cum on my tongue baby girl?"

Joel watches your brows knit together as your back arches at his words but he's not ready for what you whine out next. 

"Yes Daddy." 

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. It's sick and twisted and he feels his cock twitch violently before painting the inside of his boxers. He feels your cunt tighten before you release into his mouth. You're crying out, thighs trembling against his ears. 

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck," Joel chats against your pussy, licking you as his orgasm tears through him. "So fucking good for Daddy. Daddy's good girl." 

After a moment Joel gently shrugs your legs from his shoulders, but not before placing a delicate kiss on your inner thigh. As your orgasms ebb and the distant sound of clapping intrudes from the bedroom window you jerk up in bed. 

"The show!" 

"If you go now you can still catch most of it," he tells you with a quick glance at his watch. 

You nod, going to the dresser and pulling on new panties as Joel watches you. You are about to leave when Joel catches you by the wrist. 

"We can't do this again," Joel says huskily. "This is so fucked up." 

You don't respond to that other than to stand in front of him and you watch his chest expand with every deep inhale. Eventually you stand up on your tiptoes to press a warm kiss to his bearded cheek. 

"Goodnight, Daddy." 

please leave me comments or i dont wanna keep going ;p

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 4 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As you and Bradley start to blur the line between professional and personal correspondence, you feel yourself falling for him even more. He has charmed your students as well as you, and you decide to continue taking a chance on him.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley sounding hot

Length: 3800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley spent an hour bundling up all of his letters to your students, getting them ready to be sent back to California. Sure, he wanted to impress you, but he also couldn't deny that he was attached to hearing from Oliver, Violet, Jayden and everyone else. And according to you, they were just as happy to hear from him.

Without giving it a second thought, Bradley went all in with your personal email address. An account where he assumed you could say and send anything you wanted to. One that nobody else was monitoring. His thoughts strayed constantly over the past few hours to what that might mean. What did you deem too personal for your school account?

You told him you were single, and you made it seem like you were into him. You said he gave you butterflies, and now he desperately wanted to see this thing through. When he closed his eyes, he could picture the photos of your smiling face, and he felt a little dizzy. He wanted you to tell him everything. He wanted you to wait for him so he could take you on a date. Or several. He wanted to know what your lips tasted like.

It sounded like your ex was a real tool if he didn't appreciate what you did and how hard you worked. You taught eighteen kids enough about aviation that they asked Bradley some pertinent questions and brought up information that was relevant to his job. He was impressed as hell, and he thought he could be better than what you had before. He already knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were better than Vanessa. It was obvious.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw."

He turned toward the voice calling his name as soon as he dropped the package with your name on it off at the mail center. "Hey," he called out to the mechanic who let him take those photos for your class a few weeks ago. He read his jumpsuit again just to be sure. "What's up, Marty?"

He jerked his thumb toward the main deck and said, "I just got around to unpacking some new engine components. You still writing to those kids?"

"Yeah."

"I'm about to do some repairs if you want to take some more pictures or a video for them."

Bradley had been planning on stalking his inbox for the rest of the day in the hopes that you'd write back and comment on his brief missive telling you he wanted the conversation to go further, but this seemed better than driving himself crazy. He could practically picture you and your kids flipping through some photos and watching a cool video he managed to snag for you. "Yeah, Marty. Let me grab my phone, and I'll meet you out in the shop."

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

After you read the email from Bradley where he called you Gorgeous, you were up most of the night. First, you screeched and almost spilled hot tea all over yourself as you rushed to set your mug down on the coffee table so you could giggle and kick your feet in the air. Then you read and reread the short email for about five minutes, curled up in a little ball with your phone right in front of your face. Then you sprawled along your couch and let yourself imagine what he might be like in person.

It was too early to get your hopes up about ever getting that far, but you couldn't seem to stop yourself from thinking about it. You hummed softly, because in your daydream, he lived in San Diego and asked you out on a date, and he was a perfect gentleman until you didn't want him to be any longer. You didn't even consider what reality might hold, because you were sure you wouldn't like it as much.

But for now, he was on board with going further. Your expectations of things included chatting about your likes and dislikes as well as learning more about him. "I'd like to take it further," you read softly, trying to imagine it in a masculine voice. But what did that sentence mean for him? You sat up on the couch. Surely he wasn't going to turn into a pig and start sending you anything too raunchy. Right?

You swiped out of your email inbox and looked at the photo of him standing in front of his jet and moaned. It was actually your mind heading for the gutter as you wondered what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his big arms. What it would be like to tug the zipper of his flight suit down slowly, enjoying the feel of the pull between your thumb and index finger.

It was like the fictional leading man in a romance novel came to life and told you that he thought you were pretty and that he liked your students. You flopped back down on the couch and screeched into the pillow so as not to alarm your neighbors. You needed to respond, but you didn't know what to say since you were probably past the point of playing it cool. You chewed on your lip while you typed and then deleted several versions before sending him something that you thought was okay.

Bradley,

I'd like to take it further, too. I don't usually do this kind of thing (oh, who am I kidding... I never do this kind of thing), but there's just something about you that made me feel like it was worth the risk. I hope I'm not being too bold if I say that I found the photos you sent me quite distracting. However, it's not just your looks that made me share my personal email address with you. I like the way you give me butterflies. There's something sweet that comes through in your writing, and I want to get to know you better. On that note, if you feel so inclined, please tell me three things I should know about you.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal

Once again, you had written back to him so quickly, it should have been embarrassing, but you had nothing to lose here. You tossed out the bait, and he took it in the most spectacular fashion. You didn't want to miss an opportunity like this, even if he did seem too good to be true.

But he still hadn't written back when you got to work the next morning. The ping of the email alert on your phone made you reach for it immediately, but it was just a reminder to pay your bills on time. As you unlocked your classroom door and flipped the lights on, you considered that maybe your message was a little bit boring. After all, you were the one to bring your personal account into play. Perhaps he was expecting you to reply with some sort of dirty picture. Your cheeks burned with mixed embarrassment. You wanted to take it further, but you didn't know how. You just knew that you wanted to keep him engaged without compromising yourself.

You tucked your bag and your phone away in your desk drawer and pulled out your lesson plans for the day. You'd start things off with language arts and then work your way through math and science before your kids had art class. There was no reason you had to think about Bradley at all right now; he could just wait until later with his big hands and his thick thighs and his mustache and cute smile.

Just before your students were due to arrive, you opened your laptop and logged in to see which parents had emailed you with questions or concerns about their child. You froze when you saw an email that was sent a few minutes ago from Bradley with the subject line A visit to the mechanic's shop. When you opened it up, you found that he had attached a video and a handful of photos. 

You were a little bit annoyed that he didn't respond to the message you sent from your other account where you asked him to tell you about himself, but that melted away as soon as you clicked on the video. His face flashed up on your computer screen, and all of the features you'd shamelessly memorized were right there in front of you. Cute smile, tidy mustache, brown eyes, wavy hair. But then you heard his voice.

"Hey. I just thought I'd take all nineteen of my favorite pen pals on a little tour around the mechanic shop aboard the Theodore Roosevelt. Sound good?"

You slammed your computer shut and moaned, thighs pressed tight together as your heart hammered. He was too much. It was just a video. He wasn't even really here, but he was an absolute assault on your senses. He called you gorgeous, but meanwhile it was hard to look directly at him for fear that you'd burst out into a fit of giggles. You shook your tingling hands out and slowly opened your computer again.

"Bradley Bradshaw. How are you this hot?" you whispered at the video paused on your screen. His face was frozen mostly in profile as he looked to the side, and for the first time, you saw some long scars on his cheek and neck. "Oh." They weren't new, rather giving the appearance that they had faded over time. You wondered how pronounced they would feel beneath your fingers. Would he let you touch them? Let you drag your lips across them while your hands found their way to his tousled hair?

After taking a few deep breaths, you let the video play again. Another man joined Bradley on the screen, and he was holding up a long, metal rod.

"This is my friend Marty. He's been a mechanic in the Navy for twenty-six years, and he specializes in aircraft repairs. He knows more about my Super Hornet than I do, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. So I'm just going to stand here and hold my phone still while we watch Marty do his thing."

The rest of the video was fascinating. It was still interesting the second time when you watched it with your class instead of doing your language arts lesson. The kids sat at rapt attention, eating up that little introduction that Bradley gave just as you had. He didn't talk to them like a bunch of little kids who didn't understand anything, which you loved. He and Marty explained what they were doing without making it too juvenile. Then when the video ended, your kids started raising their hands with question after question.

"You know what to do," you told them, holding out a dry erase marker for Jackie to take. She wrote down the list of questions that everyone had for Bradley while you tapped through the photos, once again imagining how warm and rough his hands would feel wrapped around your own instead of an intake manifold.

The impromptu aviation lesson lasted for two hours until your kids left for art class, and now you were a little concerned about all of the additional, more personal questions you had for Bradley besides the ones your class came up with. You wanted to know how old he was and where his scars came from. You wanted to know where he lived now, but you were too afraid of the answer. According to one of the notes he wrote back to Violet, he went to the University of Virginia. He even sounded like he was from the east coast.

You sat at your desk alone, digging your snack out of your drawer along with your phone. There was a new email. You smiled as you realized he must have sent it to you just after he emailed the video he took for your whole class to watch. The opening greeting once again had you kicking your feet beneath your desk, snack forgotten. 

Hey, Gorgeous,

I'm still having a hard time believing that you want to get to know me better. Full disclosure, I'm a little nervous you'll get bored talking to me. I don't have much family, and I know it's cliche, but flying really is my passion. I spend a lot of my time on aircraft carriers which makes it hard to maintain relationships and friendships with people on dry land. 

Talking to my nineteen new pen pals has been the most exciting part of my deployment. But you're right... you're my favorite one. I could tell from the first letter that wasn't even specifically meant for me that you were funny and sweet. And then I saw what you look like, and I kept going back to the photo for another look. You're just as gorgeous as you are funny and sweet.

Three things you should know about me? One, I'm afraid of spiders. Like so afraid of them that I might have a crisis on my hands if you tell me you have a beloved pet tarantula or something. Two, I loved taking piano lessons so much when I was a kid, I actually still take them. (Now I'm sitting here wondering why I'm telling you embarrassing shit.) My next door neighbor is a retired music teacher, and when I'm home, I trade yard work for piano lessons. Everyone wins. Third, I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies. That's a new one, but I thought you should know about it.

I'm giving you some homework, hope you don't mind. I want you to send me a picture of one of those San Diego sunsets where the sky somehow looks both blue and orange at the same time. If you happen to be in the photo, I'm not going to complain. I would also love to hear three things I should know about you. 

Please tell your kids they have mail on the way. I hope to hear back from them. And you.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

Oh. This crush was even worse than you thought.

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

After days of running drills, Bradley was finally grounded because of a bad storm that was closing in, and he was given a few hours off. He stood out on deck, letting the first drops of hard rain hit his face. He was hoping to get a nice sunset photo to send to you, but the past few days had been terribly cloudy. And now he felt like he was being torn in three directions as his flight suit got wet: he was sweaty, hungry and curious. As a result, he couldn't decide if he should hit the shower, the mess hall or the lounge first.

He reasoned that he'd best appreciate an email from you if he was cleaned up and well fed. If you'd had time to write back to him, it would top off his night in the sweetest way possible. So he took a shower and unfortunately had to eat cabbage rolls for dinner. He chuckled to himself as he walked toward the lounge, picturing a bunch of fourth graders eating dinner in the mess hall and ranking the foods. They would probably love that, actually.

As Bradley logged in and watched his email inbox appear on one of the lounge computers, he muttered, "Hell yes." There was a new message from you, and he couldn't click on it fast enough. Before he started reading, the attached photo caught his attention, and he grunted softly. Fuck. 

There you were, on a stretch of beach in Coronado, not even a mile from his house with the sun setting behind you. Your features were in shadow, but your smile was a little shy and very pretty. You looked so soft, standing there on the windswept sand in denim shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with Mira Mesa Elementary printed on the front, and all he wanted to do was touch you. He could already imagine a picnic dinner on that beach, snuggling up with you as cooler temperatures moved in. Enjoying the blues and oranges until the sky got so dark, he'd lead you back to his house with your fingers laced with his.

Bradley,

I'm turning in my homework. I hope I get a passing grade. I'm not usually the student, so I'm a little out of practice. A Naval officer from Top Gun took this photo for me. Apparently aviators just like you are all over the beaches in Coronado.

I have some good news for you. While I'm not actually afraid of spiders, I promise I don't have a beloved pet tarantula. And I'm sorry, but the idea of you still taking piano lessons made me giggle for a solid minute. The mental image is just that adorable. 

You always seem to know what to say to make my butterflies go crazy, and that's just through the written word. As an educator, I always stress the importance of honesty to my students. So let me just say that honestly, I'm not going to get bored talking to you. I also can't lie about the fact that I watched the video you sent several times just to hear your voice. (Now I'm the one embarrassing herself.) And I really can't see how you would have a hard time maintaining a relationship while you're away. Maybe your previous partners didn't appreciate how rare it is to find someone who is willing to put in some effort. Or maybe they didn't find your arachnophobia oddly endearing. But I kind of do.

Three things you should know about me: 1. I graduated from college with a 4.0 GPA. 2. Sometimes I fall asleep during movies, especially if I'm snuggled up on my own couch. 3. I have a crush on you.

Hitting send before I can change my mind.

Bradley couldn't help the smile teasing at his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head and read your last few sentences again. He always wanted to continue talking to you, so maybe it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that you wouldn't grow bored with this. Maybe you'd care more about him than going out on dates, unlike Vanessa. He wasn't going to wait before responding to your email. What was the point? You were into him, and he was definitely into you.

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

"We got mail!" you announced, holding up the package that was waiting for you in the school office when you refilled your travel coffee mug on your way to your classroom. Your students erupted into delighted conversation.

"Is it from Lieutenant Bradshaw?" asked Jayden.

"Of course it is," Violet told him. "It must be. He's our pen pal after all."

"Did he send us more notes?" Oliver asked, practically bouncing out of his seat in anticipation.

"He did!" you confirmed as you tore into the package and enlisted Harrison to help you hand the individual notes to their recipients. The room went silent as soon as they all started reading, and then one after the next, the kids started to get out their notebooks to start their responses.

You felt warm all over. Bradley was on your mind a lot, and you didn't really want him going anywhere. You watched the video he sent again last night before you went to sleep, and you dreamed about a strong man with a sexy voice curled up behind you in bed. You knew you had a new email from him, but you were waiting until you could sit quietly during your lunch break to read it.

At some point, you were going to have to taper off the aviation curriculum and focus on other things, but you just didn't want to have to do that yet. Not when your class was so engaged. Not when it made you feel connected to a man thousands of miles away who you had feelings for in spite of the fact that you never met him in person. In spite of the fact that you were too afraid to ask him where he lived.

After you eventually walked your kids down to the lunchroom, you were free to read your email from Bradley in peace. But the more you thought about opening it, you started to get nervous. You already admitted you were interested in him, so there was really no going back. If he hadn't sent you something similar, you were going to have to crawl under a rock, but you got your phone out as you took a deep breath and started reading.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Now wait right there. I have some concerns. I'm going to address them in order, so please bear with me. First of all, you didn't just pass your homework assignment, you got an A+. I've never seen such a beautiful sunset in my life, and yet it was barely noticeable next to you. But here's my main issue. I can't have another aviator taking sunset photos of you and sweeping you off your feet. How about you just stay off that beach in Coronado for the time being? Give a guy a chance here?

I couldn't agree more about the importance of being honest. Honestly, I'm letting out the breath I've been holding, worried that you were going to send me a photo of you with your pet tarantula. And honestly, smart women really do it for me, so any time you want to bring up that 4.0 GPA, I'm going to need a minute. And honestly, nothing sounds better than watching a movie with you on your couch right now. Can't stop thinking about it, actually. 

Please, tell me in an overabundance of detail, what you would do if I promised I would take you out to dinner but then changed my mind and told you that I was tired from work and wanted to spend a quiet evening on my couch with some takeout instead.

You have a crush on me? Gorgeous girl, all I can think about is the couple days of leave I'm going to have once this aircraft carrier finally docks back in San Diego. Where you are. You and my eighteen other pen pals. I think I have a thing for fourth grade teachers. Or maybe it's just you. I can't wait to hear from you again.

Yours Truly,

Bradley

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

Okay. Some admissions have been made. Little bits of feelings have been established. She has seen him and heard his voice, and I think we're ready to keep taking things further. Maybe a phone call? Maybe another photo or two? We also can't leave the fourth graders hanging. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 5

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[shanastoryteller]

The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.

Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.

He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.

Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.

He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.

1:03

That’s not possible.

That’s not –

His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.

“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“

“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.

Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”

Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.

It's easy to find a crossroad.

The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”

It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”

“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”

“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”

She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”

“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”

“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”

At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.

She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”

“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”

“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”

His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”

Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”

There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”

She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –

He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.

This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.

[etheraltides]

BENEATH THE NOISE ᯓᡣ𐭩

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x College!Reader

Summarize: It’s hard to deal with deception when you’ve given your best. Luckily, Rafe knows how to get to you.

Warning(s): self depreciation, a hint of anxiety.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love in my works <3

The grade wasn’t supposed to define you. That’s what everyone says: “It’s just a number, not a measure of your worth.” But as you sit staring at the email on your screen, the words blur, letters and numbers melting together until you can only feel one thing: failure.

The exam’s grade - the one you poured sleepless nights, early mornings, and everything in between into – sits there in stark black and white, unchangeable, final. You can’t look away, even as the panic bubbles into shame and then into the familiar, relentless self-criticism. Even as the salty tears begin to blurry your vision.

“How could I have been so stupid?” you think, teeth pressing into your lower lip. “All those hours… wasted. What’s the point if this is the result?” The thoughts spiral faster, slipping away from you. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I’m just fooling myself. Everyone else makes it look so easy.”

With a shaky breath, you shut your laptop and curl up on your bed, tugging the blanket over yourself as if it could shield you from the whirlwind in your mind, from the world and those mocking numbers. You feel your phone buzz, but you ignore it. Then it buzzes again, and again. It’s Rafe, no doubt, checking in, but you can’t bring yourself to reply. You’re not in the mood for talking and pretending to be fine, or worse – the pity you know will be laced into his voice if he finds out how badly you did.

But Rafe isn’t one to be easily put off. He leaves message after message, each one laced with growing concern and slight irritation.

“Hey, baby. Just checking in. How’d the test go?”

A minute later, “Everything okay? Call me when you get this. You’re working me, baby.”

Another text, his humor slipping through: “I’m gonna assume you’re just taking a nap and ignoring the world like you usually do when you’re stressed.”

And then, finally, a call. You glance at the screen, seeing his name flash, but even though part of you aches to hear his voice, you can’t bring yourself to answer. Instead, you turn off the phone entirely, sinking further into the blanket cocoon, feeling more alone and defeated with every minute that ticks by.

Rafe spends the better part of an hour trying to reach you. First, it’s gentle check-ins, then some light teasing, then a note of worry threading through his texts. When all his messages stay stuck on “delivered” with no response, he throws on a jacket, grabs his car keys, and heads out the door. He’s had enough off of it.

The drive is a blur, his hands gripping the steering wheel as he runs through what he’ll say to you when he gets there. He’d scold you for being a brat and making him worry when all you had to do was type some goddamn words on your phone. It wasn’t so hard. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of something actually happening to you.

By the time he arrives at your place, it’s late enough that the lights outside are dim, casting long shadows across the driveway. He knocks once, twice in your bedroom’s door once your mom lets him in.

“She’s been there for hours.” Your mom sighs, looking up at the stairs as she puts your untouched plate of dinner in the refrigerator. “The results of her exam came in and well… You know how hard she can be with herself.”

Rafe rubs hand on his neck, he had completely forgot that the result would be today and he knew how hard you’ve been studying.

He knocks on your door once and when there’s no answer, he gently turns the knob, letting himself in.

It’s quiet inside, save for the faint sound of your breathing as he steps into your room. He sees you there, huddled under the blankets, your back to the door, your shoulders slightly shaking. His heart clenches in pain and worry as you look so small hiding in the many blankets. Wordlessly, Rafe slips off his shoes, walking over to your bed. Without a word, he lifts the edge of the blanket and slides in beside you, his warmth immediately seeping through the layers of fabric that separate you.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, letting his presence speak for itself. Slowly, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his chest. You stiffen at first, your pride fighting the comfort he’s offering, but then the dam breaks, and you lean into him, hiding your face in his shoulder.

He strokes your hair gently, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” He presses a light kiss to the top of your head, letting the silence settle for a few moments longer before he speaks again.

“Want me to talk to your professor?” he murmurs, a playful edge creeping into his tone. “Because I could pay a visit, you know… straighten him out, remind him that no one messes with my girl.” He squeezes you a little tighter. “Just say the word.”

You can’t help the small, broken laugh that escapes you, muffled by his shirt. You know he’s kidding – or at least, half-kidding – but there’s a part of you that believes he might actually show up at your professor’s office if you asked him to. That thought alone lightens the weight on your chest, even if just a little.

“You don’t need to go after my professor, Rafe,” you mumble, a hint of sarcasm breaking through the sadness. “Even though… I wouldn’t mind seeing the look on his face if you did, it wasn’t his fault.”

Rafe chuckles softly, squeezing your shoulder. “If you change your mind, I’ve got my car gassed up and ready.”

The laugh fades, and you fall silent again, the weight of the failure still pressing down on you. After a few moments, you pull back slightly, looking up at him. “Rafe… what if I’m just not good enough? What if I’ve been trying so hard for nothing?”

You wrap your arms around his torso, fingers absently tracing random shapes on his t-shirt as the words left your trembling lips. “Maybe I should just quit it. Spare myself all the deception.”

He keeps his hold on you, his voice staying low and gentle. “Baby, you’re one of the smartest people I know. This grade? It doesn’t change that. Not even a little.”

You start to protest, but he shushes you, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “No, I’m serious. You’re so hard on yourself, and I get it. But you need to remember that one test doesn’t undo everything you are, everything you’ve done. It’s just one small thing in a million great things about you.”

The words come out softly and so certain, almost like a confession, and you see the shift in his expression as he meets your gaze. He lifts a hand, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes soft and steady. “Then you try again, and again, if you have to. But you’re anything but ‘not good enough.’ You’re brilliant, and hard-working, and stubborn as hell. I’ve seen you tackle way harder stuff than this.”

You shake your head, unable to accept the kindness in his voice. “But I… I feel so dumb, Rafe. Like all this effort is just… wasted. Like I’m not cut out for this.”

Rafe’s expression softens even more, and he tilts your chin up, making sure you’re looking into his eyes. “Baby, listen to me. One test, one mistake – none of that changes who you are or what you’re capable of. You’re allowed to be human, to mess up sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less amazing, okay?”

His words linger, breaking down the wall you’ve built around your pride and pain. For the first time since you got the grade, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s right. You were being too harsh in yourself.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place a kiss to his cheek.

“Always,” he replies, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Now, let’s stay here as long as you need, but when you’re ready, we’ll go grab some terrible takeout, or watch that show you like. Whatever you want. But for now… just let me hold you.”

You nod, settling against him, the rise and fall of his chest calming the storm in your mind. And as you lie there, surrounded by his warmth and steady heartbeat, the self-criticism starts to soften, the harsh thoughts fading, leaving only the quiet reassurance that you’ll be okay.

As you lie curled up against him, letting his warmth seep into you, Rafe’s hand gently runs along your back in soothing circles. You can feel the steady beat of his heart, grounding you, pulling you away from the spiral of self-doubt. After a long silence, you finally lift your head, your face inches from his as you meet his gaze. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just quiet understanding, and something even softer.

Slowly, he reaches up, brushing a thumb across your cheek, and you feel yourself lean into his touch. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and after a beat, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s soft, gentle, like he’s pouring all his reassurance into you without a single word. His fingers slip to the back of your neck, his hold gentle but certain, as if anchoring you to the moment, grounding you in his presence and pulling you away from the loud thoughts in your mind.

He pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, and you feel his breath, warm and steady. “I’m here,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a murmur. “No grade, no test can change that. You’re more than enough, and I’m not going anywhere.” His thumb grazes your cheek again, his eyes filled with warmth and conviction, and in that moment, the weight on your heart feels a little lighter, the storm in your mind a little quieter.

[penny-anna]

ordered some lovely mittens for my 3 year old niece to keep her hands warm ♥

mittens were supposed to arrive yesterday

go out christmas shopping. get a delivery confirmation email.

local evri courier likes to do this thing where for ''''''proof of delivery''''' they just take a picture of themselves holding all the packages for my building while standing outside on the street

this one egregiously terrible. there are 4 packages visible in the photo.

no package outside my front door so i figure it must be down in the stairwell. check the entire stairwell. not there either.

check everywhere i can think of that they might have left a package, including outside the street door, on top of my door frame, behind my neighbour's motorbike, in the garden supply cupboard, etc.

try all of my neighbours. one set answers and says there are 2 packages in the stairwell. there are not anymore but this is useful data as there is also 1 package outside another neighbour's door for a total of 3

where the shit is my package

either the courier left with it or one of my neighbours took it. could in theory still show up but ehhhh.

evri customer service is closed on sundays. call Next (the seller) instead. they graciously offer to just replace it with next day delivery.

hooray!!

at the office all day today but that's fine, as stated above the evri courier does not give a shit

sitting at my desk today. notice i have a message request from a stranger on facebook. accept it.

'hi did you used to live at [OLD STREET NAME] and have a package delivered there by mistake?'

(important context: i have a pretty distinctive last name. if you search my name on facebook i am the only person in edinburgh who comes up)

over the weekend i ordered various things for christmas, including an ebay order that i did accidentally send to my old address so my first thought is that it's that which doesn't make any sense because I already sorted that with the seller

look over all my receipts from the weekend and they're all correct. but again my name is pretty distinctive and also it is possible someone in my family sent a gift to the wrong address or something (tis the season) so like yeah oops that's probably for me

decide to search [OLD STREET NAME] in my emails just in case

order confirmation from Next pops up

ohh, i think, did i foolishly put my old address down on the order and that's why it didn't show up yesterday? that's weird bcos the proof of delivery definitely looks like the outside of my new building but i guess that must be what happened?

double check the original receipt. no i fucking did not do that. i gave them the right address.

for some reason they've sent the replacement to the billing address on my account rather than the original address????

message the new resident back like oh god i'm SO sorry. yes those are mine. here is the order confirmation with your address (sorry).

going over there tonight to get my niece's mittens. hopefully am not being lured into a trap wish me luck.

pakige :(