#but it stills feels misplaced to me idk

[adhd-merlin]

16 and 17 for the Frankie ask game

"frankie ask game" lol. yes please! thank you 💗

16 - Least favourite episode(s)

Off the top of my head -- the troll episodes. Absolutely bizarre storyline. Why was it even a two-parter. (Although it does contain one of my favourite scenes, namely Merlin randomly popping out from under Arthur's bed). I don't like scatological humour so the farting jokes in the goblin episode were also painful for me to sit through. These episodes were mainly aimed at a younger audience so it makes sense that they were... the way they are, it's just a big tone shift.

The Lamia episode isn't that bad in comparison, and I actually don't mind the emotional whump, it just felt really really pointless, especially compared to the other episodes in the series.

A Herald of the New Age is actually a good episode but I think it's awfully placed within S4, to the point that I always forget it exists. It comes right after the whole Gwen & Lancelot drama, which gets picked up again in the following episode with Arthur's engagement to Mithian and it just... I don't know. I feel like it should have been put somewhere else. I don't dislike it but it's in the wrong place and it bothers me.

17 - Favourite character to write/draw

I've written almost exclusively Merwenthur, most of it from Gwen's POV (I think?) but Arthur's POV was the easiest out of the three, for some reason. Possibly because he loves Gwen and Merlin both, and so do I.

I've written a grand total of one (1) Merwaine fic but writing from Gwaine's POV was extremely fun. He's a fun character!

If it's favourite character to write about/describe, then probably Merlin. Especially when he's being shifty and/or weird. Which is probably why Arthur's POV works so well.

↳ ask me questions from the frankie ask game

[forestgreenlesbian]

.

[badolmen]

So funny how trauma will just kick you in the fucking teeth with the most random triggers.

[deus-ex-mona]

tmw you give someone concise instructions but they ✨just do not get it✨

[plugnuts]

Ok, unironialy, could you explain/resume to me the basics of homestuck??? I have NO CLUE what is it even about or even WHAT IT IS and I feel like I should know

Also much love ur like one of my favorite people on tumblr <3 🥺💕💕💗

Dnfnnfs yeah ofc! I’ll try to summarise it as best I can!

And thank you so much!! 🥺 dude I wanna hug you rn much love to you too <3 your presence on my dash is always a delight honestly! <3!!

The short and sweet official summary of it is: A tale of a boy and his friends and a game they play together

But if you would like a more detailed, but still summarised, explanation then look under the cut. But beware for it for it is long.

I haven’t read this webcomic in over a year so bear with me lol (I actually went and read a recap of it and. wow)

! Major Story Spoilers Ahead !

Okay so in as simplest terms I can manage is that four kids play a game that ends their world, but them and their homes are transported inside due to certain conditions that were met. They each get planets and if they die on a certain spot on these planets they become gods (aka ascending to god tier). There’s another race that played this game called trolls that also destroyed their world in order to enter, however only one of them became god tier. The trolls playing the game created the kids’ world (they didn’t do it right tho and that lead to one of the ‘npcs’ doing their own thing and.. ruining the course of the game.)

I forget where it happens but there’s an intermission that is super important. (Although it doesn’t appear to be lol it introduces the big bad and all his associates and whatnot)

A lot of shenanigans. We learn about the trolls, about the game and time shenanigans!! Some of the trolls help the kids, most of the trolls die bc they kill each other (and can’t resurrect bc they aren’t god tier). Key part of the killing is that one of the trolls, Vriska (the one god tier troll), is killed due to almost committing a timeline altering act. She doesn’t resurrect as her death was deemed Just. The only ways you can die permanently when god tier is when it’s deemed either Just (justified) or Heroic (being a hero).

(I’m missing a lot but it’s okay lol)

Anyway as the game is nearing its “end” and due to the trolls fucking up the kids’ session they’re forced to do a hard reset. Using their new god given powers they force this reset and the kids split up to escape their session, one group of two going with the trolls and the other two go off on their own together. This split lasts three years, by the way!

In the mean time due to this reset (or scratch as it’s named) the kids’ universe resets itself and basically…. Is reversed. So, instead of the kids we have their ancestors that are now… kids. Oh yeah, forgot to mention, during the shenanigans earlier one of our kids, John, basically made both him and his friends and his nanna and his friends’ guardians in a lab using shenanigans and sent them back in time so that everything can happen. Yeah. So, in this new session we have a new set of kids which I’ll refer to as the Alpha Kids, whereas our set of kids are the Beta Kids. So, we have the alphas now and we see their journey into the game. It’s to note that these kids can’t become god tier traditionally because of their Dream Selves dying beforehand (a needed self in order to become god tier).

So the alphas enter and are met with a dead game, basically. You could say their game is ‘infertile’ as it doesn’t have the means to create a new universe once it’s done. So it’s unwinnable. There’s nothing the alphas can do but wait. There’s some back and forth, we’re met with a new ‘troll’ and get to know her and her ruthless brother who wants to kill everyone his sister loves and stuff. Fun!

We get to know the betas more on their journey and wow one of them is depressed okay back to the alphas who. are high on sugar. Okay. Through their sugar high they get to their Quest Beds (ones that can grant them godhood without having a dream self but it’s buried deep within their planets (iirc)). So. They die on them and become god tier!

Oh yeah and during this we get to know one of the trolls’ dead ancestors called Meenah who works to build an army of the dead to tackle the big bad (Lord English) in the dream bubbles where those who die (either in this timeline or another) go to as a sort of afterlife.

The three years are up (only 6 months for our alphas) and everyone’s now in the alphas’ game. Jade (one of the betas) brings over everything from the Beta’s game so now the Alpha’s game is fertilised! Yippee! John sleeps and dreams and finds a treasure whilst everyone else uh. Suffers, basically. Once the betas arrived two of the kids (one alpha one beta) get possessed by Betty Crocker (one of the alphas’ mother but she’s an evil troll who can mind control). Jade (beta) and Jane (alpha) are now possessed.

A lot of stuff happens here. Best way I can explain it is that there’s a lot of glitches, death, and bad drawings. John also gains the power to rewrite canon (retcon), if you can believe it. The evil brother plays his game, kills his sis and gains way too much power for his own good. (Remember I might be getting things wrong here). Now, remember Meenah? Well from her group of trolls we have Aranea and she ruins everything. She brings herself back to life using what’s called the life ring and brings everyone to the same planet (except John who’s running from Jade). So. She fucks everything up, gets a lot of people killed (some people dying Justly and Heroically) and basically creates a GAME OVER timeline. Did I mention that when the betas came to the alphas they also brought along their own game’s bad guys? Yeah. Whilst GAME OVER was happening John was out there battling a kid version of the big bad. He teleports back into canon when everything’s already over.

So, now we’re in game over where basically everyone save for some are dead. Terezi, one of the trolls, tells John to fix it bc of his retcon ability. She gives him a list of what to do because of her own game given powers (she’s a Mind player but. yeah I won’t explain that sorry) and John goes and does it, using the keywords she gave him to find those specific points in time to change and fix. This leads to Vriska not dying when she was supposed to. A lot of shenanigans after this, basically everyone who was dead before is okay in this new timeline bc Vriska is here now. Yay? Anyway, they all go through their dramas and stuff, betas mingling with the alphas yada yada they all talk about defeating the bad guys.

Then there’s this whole animation about it!

Anyway that’s Homestuck as best as I can describe it without going into BIG detail. There’s a LOT of stuff I missed, but it’s very overwhelming lol.

TLDR; Kids play game. Time shenanigans. Death and destruction. Godhood. Vriska. Kids play game. Kids play game. Death. Big fight. They create a new universe where they can all live together and whatever have you. :)

I hope that clears SOME things up and if you have any more questions feel free to ask! Or you can read the webcomic but. I wouldn’t read it from the source bc it’s broken. I’ll tell you what to do if you Do want to read it but with over 9000 pages and god knows how many words….. it’s quite the task. But there is games you can play in it! And cool animations!! But some of it.. didn’t age well, let’s say. Anyway if you’re still reading then colour me impressed! I tried to summarise it as best I can but with limited memory and with so much plot it was difficult lol, ik you said the basics but also. Homestuck ain’t basic nfngnrksmnd sorry

[joelscurls]

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers. 

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?” 

You sniff again. Nod. 

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself. 

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.” 

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath. 

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face. 

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?” 

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him.  Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch. 

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim. 

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull. 

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours. 

And nobody else’s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you. 

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox. 

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all. 

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense. 

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him. 

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.” 

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.” 

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward. 

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet. 

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him. 

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. 

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now. 

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated. 

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush. 

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours. 

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. 

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears. 

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?” 

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes. 

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle. 

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.” 

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.” 

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy. 

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?” 

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from. 

Sheila is home. 

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing. 

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea. 

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?” 

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.” 

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip. 

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used. 

“You sure?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise. 

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you. 

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length. 

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx. 

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop. 

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him. 

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat. 

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” 

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in. 

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. 

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep. 

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile. 

Do you hear that?  Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you. 

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp. 

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast. 

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar!  We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted. 

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt. 

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle. 

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth. 

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air. 

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?” 

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

[prettiestlovergirl]

hiii!! i love how u write theo and i was wondering if u could do another oral fixation!reader x cold!theo nott (it doesn’t have to be smut ofc, pls do whatever makes u comfortable, even if that means you don’t write this at all!!)

have a great night!

🎀 anon (if that’s not already taken ofc!)

oh, my love, i am sososo happy you asked me for this! idk why i have so much fun with cold! theo but i DO and the fact that you also love him makes me giddy hehe.

this is basically like a continuation of the last one! just a different nickname. (🎀 anon is all yours, babe!) i'm too lazy to add it to everything, bambola means doll! hope this lived up to your expectations. enjoy, my lovely! 𓆩♡𓆪

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; oral fixation! reader; princess! reader; jealousy; light hairpulling; fingering; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); sarcastic banter; ends with some fluff; italian! theodore nott

currently, slytherin house was throwing a massive party in the common room. you guys had won in your game against ravenclaw, so of course you were all celebrating with loud music and an abundance of alcohol.

theo was looking for you. the two of you hadn't gotten a moment alone since the library incident he couldn't stop replaying on a loop in his mind.

wanting you was a bad idea. you were from two different worlds, you were polar opposites, but fuck did he need to have you again more than air.

even in a room full of people, his eyes always found you first. unfortunately (for the other guy) you were in the middle of a dance with some guy from the year above you two.

your face was flushed from dancing, your eyes sparkling with joy and laughter as the guy spun you around. your hair was in a ponytail, and he had the sudden urge to wrap it around his fist and tug you to him.

all it would take is one little tug and you would be all his for the taking, the douchebag with his hands on you didn't stand a fucking chance against him.

theo remained cool and composed, but his eyes? his eyes gave everything away. they showed the jealousy sparking deep within him, one misplaced hand away from starting a fire.

you must have been able to feel the heat of his stare on your skin, because you turned your head around and were instantly met with theo's dark gaze.

your breath hitched and the previous smile on your face was wiped as theo approached, instantly wrapping his arms around you. he made a point to place his hand just above douchebags.

"bambola, you didn't tell me you made a new friend." theo mused, his cool and collected smile masking the jealousy, rage, and sudden desire to snap and beat the shit out of this guy for even looking at you, let alone touching you.

"hey, man, who the fuck are you?" douchebag scoffed, his arms still on you as bodies continued to sway and party around you. "someone who's going to kick your pathetic ass if you don't get out of here in the next five seconds."

douchebag looked like he wanted to argue, but the murderous glint in theo's eyes and the fact that he started lifting his fingers in a countdown finally scared him away.

"what the hell was that?!" you huffed, stepping away from his grasp and placing your hands on your hips. "i really like ethan!" you hissed, noticing the muscle tick in his jaw as you said his name.

"you can do better, bambola. he scared too easy, he's not worth your time." theo said coolly, slight smirk on his face as you rolled your eyes. "oh, because you're better? please-"

"you really think you would have enjoyed yourself with him, bella? you think he would have made your eyes roll the way i did? think his fingers would compare to mine? i can still hear your pretty little whimpers, darling."

a shiver ripped through your body at his words, lips parting in surprise at hearing the normally so calm and proper theodore nott speak such filthy words with ease.

"you've got five minutes to meet me by the stairs, bambola... or i've throw you over my shoulder and drag you up myself." he purred in your ear, his voice low and dark and raspy with desire.

of course, you followed theo out almost immediately. you would have been a fool not to follow him, especially with the way you couldn't help but replay the scene of you two in library every time you closed your eyes.

anticipation fluttered beneath your skin as you and theo walked up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. there was an aching pressure between your thighs as you walked, his hand on the small of your back burning so hot he was practically branding you.

you couldn't take your eyes off him the moment you stepped into the room. you hadn't uttered a word the whole way up, but you didn't have to: you both knew exactly what was going to happen tonight.

theo leaned back against the canopy of his bed, arms crossed as his eyes burned into you. "come here." he finally commanded; voice soft as he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms.

you did as told, walking step by step until your bodies nearly collided. "fuck, bambola. you don't know what you do to me." he murmured before finally crashing his lips down onto yours in a rough, deliberate kiss.

his hand fisted your hair, holding you tightly as his teeth tugged at your bottom lip. he shifted a bit, sinking down onto his mattress and helping you straddle him with ease.

he pulled away after a moment, watching the way your chest heaved as you attempted to catch your breath before he left a trail of hot, fiery kisses down the side of your neck.

you could feel his cock digging into your skin through his boxers, drawing a soft whine out of you as you started to gently grind down against him.

he groaned against your neck, his hand sliding up your inner thigh until it reached your soaked panties. he pressed his palm firmly against your pussy, making you moan out in surprise and need.

"fuck, you're so wet." he groaned, dipping his hand into your panties and pushing two fingers inside your puffy walls. your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned, forehead leaning against his as you relished in the agonizingly delicious stretch.

"theo..." you gasped, mouth falling open as he buried his fingers to the hilt and immediately pressed his thumb against your swollen clit. "fuck, your roommates are gonna come up and see us." you whimpered, sweating beading on your forehead.

"no, they won't, bella." theo hummed, his voice maddeningly calm compared to your breathy whimpers. he brought his free hand up to your lips, pushing his thumb into your open mouth, effectively keeping you from asking more questions.

you rolled your hips down against him, desperate for more as he continued to slowly drag his thumb over your clit while his fingers rubbed against your walls. "need you to fuck me, please." you begged, coating his thumb in your saliva.

"ask me again." he demanded, voice still calm and collected as your tongue swirled around his thumb. "fuck me, theo. i need you to fuck me." you pleaded, opening your eyes to look right at him as he pulled his fingers out of you.

he flipped your positions, pushing you back against the mattress. his fingers made quick work of your clothes, stripping you completely bare for him. he ran his tongue over his lower lip, mouth going dry as he admired just how fucking gorgeous you were.

his gaze was almost predatory as he admired you before leaning down, kissing his way to your chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. he licked and tugged and teased while you squirmed and whimpered underneath him.

one hand gripped your hip tightly, it was definitely going to leave a fresh bruise on your skin but you didn't care. his other hand went down to quickly rid himself of his pants and boxers before lining himself up with you.

"look at me, bambola." he said roughly, waiting until your eyes were back on his. you nearly gasped when you saw him, the theodore nott in front of you was someone you could hardly recognize.

his usually perfect hair was tussled, his sweat making it stick to his forehead, and his eyes were pools of black and desire. "please." you begged, your voice hoarse with desire.

he kept direct eye contact with you as he finally pushed inside of you, inch by torturous fucking inch. it was sweaty and intimate and you'd never wanted this moment to end.

as he bottomed out, your mouth finally opened in a tortured moan. he lifted two fingers back into your mouth as he started to move slowly. you happily swirled your tongue around his fingers, thankful for the feeling as he started to pull back out.

he pulled out all the way until it was just the tip of his cock still inside before thrusting back inside of you. he thrusted deeper, faster, harder, and you wrapped your legs up around his waist to pull him closer.

after that, you could no longer form any thought that wasn't about how good his cock felt pounding into your desperate, soaked pussy. your tongue swirled around his fingers as you moaned and bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts.

tears streamed down your cheeks as he fucked into you, lips pressing kisses and bites all over your chest while your nails dug into his back. "look at you, bambola. already weeping from how good my cock is fucking your sweet little pussy."

your eyes rolled into the back of your head, the filthy words coming from him practically tipping you over the edge. "fuck, fuck, theo, 'm gonna cum, fuck!" you cried, toes curling as your orgasm crashed into you like a wave.

his controlled, deliberate thrusts quickly grew erratic. he let out a hiss as your nails scraped his skin, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucked into you. he pulled out a few moments later, coating your stomach in his cum.

you laid there while he got a rag to quickly clean you up, letting you stay collapsed and boneless against his sheets. theo being theo, he had to at least put your things in a pile before eventually laying beside you.

your eyes were closed, but you could feel his eyes staring at you intently. you finally opened one eye, staring at him as you yawned. "what?" you asked, biting your kiss-swollen lip.

"nothing, nothing it's just... i think this might be the longest i've ever heard you go without talking." he teased, a smirk on his face as his shoulders shook with laughter.

you wanted to be mad, you really did, but it was so impossibly hard to be mad when you heard him laugh. he was always so composed, so stoic. any time you could crack through his persona was a success in your eyes.

"mean!" you laughed, reaching up to smack his chest. he grabbed your arm before you could hit him and he tugged you in close. he pressed a soft, gentle kiss on the chunk of skin he'd bitten earlier before covering you with a sheet.

"you're mine, bambola, and now that i have you? i'm not letting you go any time soon."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

[sickeninglyshoujo]

Idk if you do requests or suggestions n stuff like that, so feel free to ignore this, but how do you think Simon would feel about a significant other who got caught in an explosion or something that badly scared/disfigured half her face?

She’s not insecure enough to hide her face because of it, but she gets irritable when people stare, and will will sometimes make self deprecating jokes about being an, “eyesore” and how she, “ain’t exactly a beauty anymore”

a/n: this is actually the first time anyones requested anything from me and it made me so happy omg

masterlist here

buy me a ko-fi

warnings: mentions of injury, blood, scars, a dash of smut

word count: 1.4k

The scarring that covered a little under half of your face rarely bothered you. The occasional tightness or twinges of pain with the weather changes was the worst of it and nothing that couldn’t be remedied with a thin coating of bio oil and a gentle massage.

The appearance of the scarring didn’t bother you either, compared to the angry red skin that had first grown back after the explosion.

One misplaced charge by a newbie to blow open a door had sent you sprawled on your ass, your pride hurting. You’d hardly noticed the pain until you’d seen Johnny white as a sheet when he kneels down over you, “Don’ worry lass, ‘ve gotcha.”

“Johnny?” You ask, a little out of sorts from the shockwave of the charge.

“Lass, ‘ve gotcha!” He affirmed, stripping your helmet and his tac gear, before his thin cotton vest was pressed over your face.

“Ah know, lass, best ah can do now.”

“Can’t see, Johnny…”

“Hush, lass, gotta keep you covered. Yer in a state… Bleedin’ through already.”

Johnny kept heavy pressure on your face, barking out orders at the others on how to complete the mission, all the while holding his vest pressed tightly, so tightly onto your face.

“S-soap, i’ hurts,” you moaned.

“Hush, lass, we’ll get out soon,” His hands disappeared from your face and you were being hauled up into his arms, “Gotta finish the mission then we’ll get you to a medic, promise.”

Ghost is in the medical wing before your wounds have even been cleaned, “Where’s the fucking shithead who placed the charge!”

You blink, swiping at some of the blood covering your face.

“The rookie’s still in debrief, Ghost, she only came here because she needed medical,” Soap says.

“Get that little asshole in here, he’ll need medical by the time I’m done with him.”

The healing had been slow and painful as your nerves knit themselves back together.

“You don’ have to worry about getting revenge on the rookie, lass,” Johnny said one day as he visited you in the medical wing, “Ghost has been at the poor dog’s heels, not giving him a moment’s rest. Think he’s about to keel over and die from the amount of suicides hes been given.”

Ghost sleeps in the armchair next to your bed.

Ghost helps to remove the stitches after you insisted on not returning to the hospital.

Ghost is the one who helps to massage the medicated creams on while you grit your teeth at the bone deep pain that radiates.

Ghost is the one ready to bite off heads when people so much as let their eyes linger on the raised and angry skin.

“Don’t worry about it, Simon, I really don’t mind the looks much. People are just wondering what happened,” The mission had been need-to-know and even the details of your injury weren’t allowed to leave confidential briefings.

Your opinion changes as your scars settle into a raised and mottled mauve, pockmarks and dents covering half of your face, the stares on base continue.

“What, you’ve never seen an eyesore before? I think you’d be used to looking at one in the mirror every morning with a face like that,” You snapped at a new recruit who had completely stopped in his tracks, mouth opened in shock at your appearance, “Meet me in the gym tomorrow at oh-six-hundred. You’re going to learn to respect your superiors' battle wounds the hard way,” You snarled out at him.

Off base, the stares are worse so you begin to limit your time on leave.

You grit your teeth and set your face in a hard line in public, schooling your expression so that people don’t notice the way that their wide-eyed glances hit you like punches.

You don’t notice how fewer stare when Ghost is around, he’ll glare them down over your head and make them scurry away before their eyes even reach you.

You don’t notice the way Ghost’s eyes darken in the rec room when you make a joke to the lads about being “damaged goods” and “Frankenstein” even if your eyes are filled with tears of laughter as you cackle at your own jokes.

“Don’ like hearing you talk like that,” Simon corners you after you leave the rec room to refill your drink.

“Jesus Christ! Simon! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” You clutch your chest where your racing heart resided, “Give a girl some warning before I attach a bell to you.”

He didn’t speak for a beat, “I don’t want to hear you calling yourself ‘damaged goods’ anymore, love.”

“Just speaking the truth, Si,” You gestured at your face, the still painful and shiny skin, “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought it too? I know I wasn’t winning beauty contests before, but now I would probably be better as a scare actor.”

“Tha’s not true.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me just because I’m your girlfriend!”

“If I was bein’ nice I’d tell you tha’ you were the scariest,” Simon begins, still kissing down the line of scarred flesh, now reaching your chest, free of scars.

“You’re so pretty,” Simon murmurs against the line where healthy flesh met mottled scarring, “Want you to say it back to me, love. Need to hear you say it.”

The healthy skin of your face began to flush, nearly matching your scars in color, “Si-”

“I need you to know how pretty you are to me, before and now,” His kisses continue tracing your healed wounds, “Never seen a prettier bird.”

His hands trace your hip bones, settling at their crest, “Before I could only think how soft you were, that I had to protect you on missions. Nearly got my head blown off more than once. Now all I can see is how strong you are,” His hands begin to trail lower, petting over your stomach and then lower still.

“There she is,” He coos when you jump as his fingers make contact, “Now tell me how pretty you are for me doll, wanna hear you say it before I make you cry it f’ me.”

He makes you cry that night.

He switches from nipple to nipple, “Say it, lovie,” He tells you as he pauses to thumb at your nipple, giving his mouth a break.

“‘M pretty,” You whimper out.

“Again,” he says, kissing down your stomach, “Give yourself another compliment, sweet girl.”

“Si!”

“I’ll help you pretty girl,” He coos at you, in between mouthing at your hip bones, “You’re strong, now say it.

“I-I’m strong,” Now his mouth travels lower still, you wriggle trying to rush him into going faster. He can tell your game and deliberately pulls his mouth off, “You’re impatient too, lovie, but I’ll forgive it and give you what you need if you give me another compliment.”

“‘M not an eyesore!”

“That’s right, you’re beautiful, lovie,” He finally lowers himself to give tiny licks at your clit sending you jerking up into his mouth.

“Everytime you say those things about yourself it drives me mad that you don’t see what I do. Even with your scars you’re still beautiful and sexy and knowing you’re all mine makes me hard as a fucking rock.”

You whimper under him, trying to grind down onto is tongue to get more, more, more.

“So pretty for me, pretty face, pretty body, pretty cunt,” Simon murmurs into you, pulling his mouth away just long enough to watch his fingers tease along your hole before slipping one inside, “Givin’ me the prettiest little moans when I touch…here,” He crooked his fingers inside of you and made you jerk under him, crying out.

“The scars just make you prettier, dove,” Simon says, “Shows me you’re real and can take anything the world can give you. That you can’t be taken from me.”

His words fizzle into your brain as you grind down onto his finger everytime it thrusts into you, “Si, more,” You pant out, “Need more.”

“Gimme another one, pretty girl.”

“‘M brave,” You can barely get the words out, torn between trying to whimper out praise to yourself to try and get Simon to do more or to beg him for it instead.

“Good girl, you’re listening so well,” He slid another finger inside of you, “You’re so brave sweet girl,” He kissed your thigh.

[mxmmyprentiss]

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

Summary: Long story short, you survived without her. Her name had become a memory pushed and tucked away in the back of your mind. You locked it and threw away the key. You had stopped yourself from waiting for answers as to why she walked out on you or why she didn’t fight for you ages ago.

Well. Until now. Genre: Angst Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: homophobia, parental abuse (?) Word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just made a new tumblr account and I'm new to Criminal Minds and I'm still actually just about to start season 4 lol but Emily Prentiss already got a chokehold on me and here I am. English is not my first language so any grammar/spelling/other writing mistakes, I apologize. I also have not written anything in a long, long time. Comments and criticisms are welcome.

(also emily's fbi timeline here might be a little confusing so idk lol)

AO3

Relationships don’t always work out. You have known that fact since you were seven years old as a result of your parents’ divorce. You still remember your mother saying, “Baby, sometimes love doesn’t last. Maybe it’s love for now but it won’t be love forever. Two people can grow apart even when they are together all the time. And that’s what happened with me and your dad. And honey, it’s not your fault, you understand?” And you still remember nodding as if you really understood what was happening.

But just like any other child who knew how it felt to be a product of a broken family, you still felt responsible about it. You could have done more, could have done something to prevent your family from falling apart, or at least could have done anything to stitch your family back together. But as you grow older, you learned that what if’s are only as good as heroin and cocaine combined together - it’s not. It’s lethal.

So even though your parents are still alive, you still considered them as the first ones you have lost. Accepting that has helped you cope with other things you have missed throughout your life..

Pen.

Hair ties.

Bus ticket.

Money.

Your first love.

The last one, unlike the others, was not forgotten, misplaced or stolen. The last one walked out of your life before you even had the chance to tell her you would move mountains and set the world on fire if she asked you to. What once were gentle, careful hands that held your heart are the same hands that crushed it into pieces and may have been impossible to glue it back together no matter how much you tried.

It’s fine though. It was a long time ago. You learned to live with it.

At least that’s what you told your therapist when she asked during one of your sessions.

“Come on, sugarplum.” Penelope Garcia, your roommate, tugged your arm. “It’s just drinks at the bar.”

“I’m already beat, Penny. I’ve had a long shift.”

“Exactly the reason why you need to get out and have fun, doctor. We were both so busy with work and never had fun anymore.”

“We have movie marathons sometimes.”

“Please,” Penelope scoffed. “You fall asleep in the first 30 minutes of every movie.”

You sighed. You didn’t defend yourself because it’s true. Lately, everything feels heavy. And you’re always exhausted to the point of passing out at any furniture you lay your head to.

“I’m sorry, Pen.”

Penelope cups your face and forces you to look at her. She has the most gentle, caring eyes when she wants it to be. Curious and determined, most of the time. “Hey, I’m not saying those aren’t fun, okay? I’m just saying maybe we need a change of environment. Get loose. Have a few drinks and maybe meet some people and dance. That’s all.”

“I don’t know these people,” you said defeatedly.

“And you don’t know your patients either but you’re forced to interact with them anyway.” Penelope squeezed your cheeks before letting go. “They’re my friends as much as you are mine, sweet cheeks. I’ll introduce you to them and who knows. You might end up liking them too.”

There’s no winning against your roommate. So you finally agreed and Penelope pranced to her room to change.

Since tonight seemed to be about changes, you decided to put on a skin tight knee-length blue dress that complimented your curves and skin along with a light denim blazer. You matched it with black printed flats and a purse Penelope gifted you last Christmas.

You and Penelope walked hand in hand to the bar. She told you briefly about everyone’s first names but you’re not sure if you will remember them all as you haven’t seen their faces just yet. Also, Penelope talks too fast when she’s excited and your brain just cannot process it as quickly knowing how tired you are.

You both stopped at the door, scanning the place and saw a booth on the far end of the bar. Penelope waved at the people on the table and everyone happily greeted Penelope. You felt a little at ease that they were all wearing casual clothes and looked a little less scary compared to what they actually do for a living.

“Everyone, this is my roommate, Y/N,” Penelope introduced you to the team. And pointing from left to right, she said, “This is Hotch, Derek, Reid and JJ.” They all waved at you. Reid stood up and shook your hand. He insisted you can call him Spencer and babbled something about an article he read the other day that he remembered because you’re wearing a blue dress. You stared at him, fascinated albeit confused. Derek chuckles and pulls Reid next to him.

“Hey, guys, here’s our dri-”

A pause. 

A stare.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or two. Or maybe it stopped for God knows how long.

One of the glasses of beer almost fell out of the raven-haired woman’s hands. Luckily, JJ caught it, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Emily, you are an angel.” Penelope snatched three glasses out of her friend’s hand. “Y/N, this is Emily.”

It took you a second - or ten - before you reached out your hand for a handshake and forced a smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Your jaw started to hurt at how tight you’re clenching them but you can’t help it.

She’s here.

Emily took your hand and for a brief second, you felt her squeeze it harder than you would normally do for a handshake. “Emily,” was all she said and sat to Penelope’s right.

Everyone grabbed their drinks. The music at the bar grew loud and they talked even louder to understand each other. Derek and Reid debated about something work-related that you didn’t understand but Derek rolling his eyes at Reid whenever he stated facts amused you. Meanwhile, Penelope showed something to JJ and Emily on her phone and you just hope it’s not something embarrassing because you caught the glance JJ shoots at you and she giggled.

“What are you showing them, Pen?” you asked curiously.

“Nothing,” she grinned. “I’m just showing them how pretty my best friend is.”

You squint, not believing a word she just said. Your hands were quick to snatch the phone from her hand. “Penelope Garcia!” Even with the dim lighting, your blush was evident. It’s a photo of you sleeping in your kitchen, hugging a stainless pot and holding a wooden spatula. You don’t remember that happening. “When was this and why are you keeping this picture?”

Penelope laughed. “You don’t remember so I’m not going to remind you.”

You immediately deleted it off her phone. “Now it’s gone.”

She raised her eyebrows and let out a chuckle, “You forget I work in tech?”

You mumbled a curse and rolled your eyes, accepting defeat.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s cute.” JJ teased and you could only force a smile in embarrassment.

Out of nowhere, Penelope gulped down her entire drink and stood. “Come on, let’s get dancing! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Everyone followed her. Even Hotch who seems to not like the idea but Derek practically pushed him to the dance floor.

Everyone except Emily.

Her.

And you.

You two were left at the booth, sitting across from each other. Emily was gripping her glass. Hard. You believed she might break it if she didn't relax.

You averted your eyes from Emily. It’s ridiculous to not find anything to stare at other than  Emily’s hands.

Emily’s beer. 

Emily’s hair. 

Emily’s clothes.

Emily’s necklace.

Why is this place full of her?

The place was full and crowded and the music was so loud but the silence between you two? That was louder. Deafening. Unsettling. Awkward.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Emily said, finally managing to look you in the eye again.

Your breath hitched once, twice, before answering, “You too.”

And you meant it. But you didn’t want to. 

Oh, but you did.

She chugged her beer and grimaces the second she does. “I … I didn’t know you and Penelope are friends.”

“I didn’t know you and Penelope are co-workers either.” You shrugged. “How long have you been with the FBI?”

“Seven years,” she answered.

Penelope called your name from the dance floor where she was dancing with Morgan. You only gave her a thumbs up to let her know you’re fine and will be staying at the booth.

“You’re staring,” you said and Emily quickly diverted her eyes from you. She decided the floor was a better view instead. You licked your lips to keep yourself from smiling. “It’s okay, you know.”

“What?”

“I said it’s okay.”

“What’s okay?”

“If you want to pretend like we don’t know each other.” But the agonizing tug in your chest claimed otherwise. “I mean, they’re your friends and Pen is your friend as much as she’s mine. She doesn’t have to know. She just brought me here tonight so we could have fun and meet you guys.”

To your surprise, Emily moved to sit next to you. Not really next to you but just close enough to smell her perfume. 

Velvety. 

Delicious. 

Familiar.

You inhaled deeply, composed yourself, and stole Penelope’s second beer.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

The shiver that ran down your spine shouldn’t be there when Emily said your name. It shouldn’t have affected you that much. Or at all. But it did. And you despised it.

“Since you left me? Great.” You laughed quietly, staring at the glass now half empty. “Really great. I … I’m well … a resident doctor …” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just …”

“You didn’t expect to see me, I get it.”

“Yeah.”

There’s the awkward silence again. If it doesn’t stop sooner, you think you might just bang your head against the table just to shift the mood.

“I tried to find you,” Emily spoke again. Her voice was low, you almost miss what she said. “I came back but you weren’t there anymore. Your mom said you already moved to LA with your dad and -”

“I don’t want to do this here, Emily. Please.” You just can’t. You might cause a scene if you keep this up. You’re still torn between crying hysterically or just downright screaming at her face.

But her face. Her stupid, fucking perfect face.

You looked away. You focused on the people dancing specifically at Penelope grinding against Reid who’s only swaying awkwardly. That’s better.

Emily scooted closer to you but not close enough to invade your personal space still. “Do you hate me?”

You wanted to be rude. Tell her what does it look like, bitch? But that’s just not you. You’re not a confrontational woman. You’re an honest woman. And to be honest, you’re feeling a lot.

Instead, you gulped a drink and stared at it for a while, leaving Emily staring at your hand, waiting for an answer that may never come.

It took a few minutes for you to gather the strength to look her in the eyes. Your eyes may have been teary, you’re not sure, but everything else looks blurry and you feel lightheaded. You’re not even drunk yet. You only had two beers, for fuck’s sake.

You missed those eyes. Emily’s kind, loving, gentle, ‘used to see right through you’ eyes.

“You left me,” was all that came out of your mouth.

Emily moved closer to your seat, dark eyes still locked on yours as if asking for permission. “I was scared. I was young, Y/N.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “And I wasn’t? Your mother literally hired a private investigator to threaten me so I would stay away from you! I was 17, Emily! 17!” You hissed. Emily tried to reach out for your hand but you got up quickly and ran to the dance floor, to your friend. 

You whispered to Penelope’s ear that you needed to leave immediately to cover an emergency shift at the hospital. She knew better than to argue with you and your work so she let you go and told you not to worry about the tab. She offered to call you an uber but you insisted on walking since the hospital is only a few blocks away.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Emily, not now!” Your strides were getting bigger and you wished you could just fly home instead and get there faster. She grabbed your arm, pulling you to the side. And although it’s already dark outside, Emily can’t miss the way your eyes glisten with tears, staining your cheeks. “Please, Emily, just please.” You didn’t know what you’re actually asking - begging - her. You weakly placed a hand to her stomach and pushed to keep a little distance between the both of you. 

Emily took your shivering hand and held it to her chest instead. Her hands were as soft as you remembered them to be. And you hated the fact that you still remember that after so many years. “Please, Y/N, let me just talk to you.”

“What’s there to talk about? We made it this far in life without each other.” You said bitterly.

“But we didn’t want to.” She sighed. “At least, not for me.”

You took a deep breath in. Emily wiped the tears with her thumbs. Then she cupped your face and you couldn’t help but to just feel her for a minute, face settling on her warm hands. You look at her, eyes pleading. “Em, please.” 

Emily shuddered at the nickname. You were - are - the only one who could make it sound so soft and loved; make it sound like home. After all this time.

“Emily?” You both looked at the sound of Penelope’s voice. You quickly retracted your hand from Emily’s. “Y/N? You’re still here?”

“I, uh, Emily here just brought me my purse because I forgot.” You lied. Emily swallowed whatever she was about to say. You turned to Emily. “Thanks. I have to go now.”

“Oh, okay.” 

You hailed a cab and got out as fast as you can, leaving Emily dumbfounded and Penelope confused as she was intrigued.

___

Emily rubbed her hands together and exhaled loudly. Penelope raised her eyebrow. “What did you do?” She asked.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“For an FBI agent, you’re a bad liar right now, honey.” She squinted and took a closer look at Emily’s eyes. Teary. “Were you two making out?”

Emily scoffed. “You’re drunk, Garcia.”

“And you’re hiding something, Prentiss.”

“I’m not!” Penelope continued to stare at her suspiciously, pressing the truth out of her. “Okay, I think you should talk to her first. I can’t be the one to tell you if she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you know Y/N before I brought her here? I saw that you two were surprised to see each other a while ago. There was something there. It doesn’t take a profiler to see it.”

Emily paced back and forth, biting her lip, arms crossed. She stopped herself from biting her nails, a habit she may have done when she’s anxious. Emily contemplated whether to tell Penelope everything or something or anything. “God, I think I need something stronger than the drinks in the bar.”

“I’m waiting here, pudding.”

“And I’m thinking here.” She kept her pace. Then stopped. Emily takes a deep breath. “Y/N is … well, she was … is … I think …” she rambled, hands in her pockets. Emily looked up to keep the tears pooling in her eyes from falling. “Garcia, she’s the love of my life.” She stated weakly.

Penelope gaped at Emily like a deer caught in headlights.

___

Penelope arrived home at around 2:30 in the morning. You heard the lock click and footsteps approaching your door. You quickly pulled the covers above your head and pretended to sleep soundly.

“Y/N?” It’s your roommate. She caressed your foot. “I just want to say I’m sorry for bringing you out there tonight. I … I didn’t know you and … her …” Penelope sighed sadly. “We can talk about it when you’re ready or whenever you want or not at all. It’s up to you really. I just want to say I’m sorry.” She gave a light pat to your leg. “Good night, sweetie.”

___

The next morning, you found Penelope sitting in the kitchen having coffee and talking to someone on her laptop. You didn’t interrupt her, suspecting she might be working from home.

You prepared coffee for yourself and sat on the opposite end of the table. You pretended to scroll on your phone … waiting …

“Morning, baby girl,” Penelope finally decided to break the silence.

“Morning, Pen.”

“So …” There it was. You have known her for a long time to know that nothing - not even the strongest of hangover -  is stronger than her inquisitiveness. “Want to talk about the elephant in the room?”

You took a deep breath.

“I’m not forcing you, Y/N. I’m just asking if you’re ready because if you’re not, it’s fi -”

“And let you die of curiosity?” You hid your smirk behind your mug. Penelope smiled widely. “Did she tell you about me?”

“Emily?” You roll your eyes as if to say who else? “We haven’t had the chance to talk about our personal lives before but last night, she told me two things actually.”

“Oh?”

“One, that it might be better if I get the dirt from you. And two …” Penelope pauses, grinning. Is she actually pausing for dramatic effect?

“Spit it out, Penny.”

“I’m not sure if you want to know.”

“Just say it.”

“That you were -” Your friend shook her head. “ ARE. You are the love of her life.”

Oh.

There it was again. That tug in your chest. Are you dying? Maybe. You needed to get this checked out one of these days at the hospital, you thought. You might need an ECG or probably a 2D echo.

“Is it true?” Penelope pushed. “How did you two know each other?”

You walked to the living room with your coffee and sat on the couch. Penelope follows you.

“That love of her life part, I’m not sure.” You took a sip of your coffee. Black and bitter. “We met in high school. She was my girlfriend.”

Penelope scooted closer. “What happened?”

“Well, long story short -”

“No, I want the long complete detailed version, love bug.” You rolled your eyes at her and she smacked your arm. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“Hey! I didn’t know my ex is working with you, okay?”

“Still! Everything really does happen for a reason.” She smiled to herself.

You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the reason for this then?”

“We’ll see,” Penelope smirked. “Now, go on with the story, girlfriend.”

“We met in high school. She was a transferee. I was, well, an introvert with no friends. She was the new girl. I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.” You see Penelope with a shit-eating grin, nodding her head. “It took a week before I could say a word to her.”

“Because you’re so gay and she’s a pretty girl?” Penelope grinned.

You glared at her. “Because I was an introvert.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, she missed a class and asked if she wanted my notes and she said yes. We have been friends from then on.”

“Until…?”

“She was the first one to say ‘I love you’, you know?” Tears started pooling in your eyes. You immediately wiped it off with the end of your sweater before it even stained your cheeks. “We were in the locker room. Just the two of us after gym class. It was out of nowhere. We just finished showering -”

“Together?” Penelope gasped scandalously. You swatted her arm and she laughed. “I’m kidding.”

“Anyway, we just finished showering and she said she loved me. You have to understand that it was a time when you know … it’s not accepted nor tolerated to be … us.” Penelope took your hand and squeezed it. She could only sympathize, knowing how cruel and tough the world must be to not let people love who they love. “We hid it for a year, maybe two. I’m really not sure now, I think, but it was the longest time of my life. We were okay, great even. We had the most fun, enjoying each other’s company, sneaking around, going on dates. My mom met her. She liked her. Always asked about her when I get home.” You smile at the memory now but it quickly fades. “Until her mother found out about us.”

“Ambassador Prentiss? Oh, that evil -”

“Her mother sent a P.I. to threaten me so I would stay away from her daughter. I was 17 years old and scared, what else can I do?”

“Oh, honey,” Your friend pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry the world has not been kind to you, sunshine.”

“Thanks, Penny.”

“You two broke up after that?”

You shook your head. “I was about to ask Emily what we should do. I was ready to run away, to hide, to go anywhere with her. I messaged her to meet me at the gym locker room after class the next day but she never showed up at the school at all.” Penelope noticed your trembling hands and gently caressed them. “I found out from the faculty that she moved overseas.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it’s hard for you, honey bun.”

“I just didn’t expect to see her last night … or ever. I stopped myself from looking for her again. Turns out, life has funny comebacks.” You chuckled bitterly. Penelope enveloped you in a tight hug until her phone rings. You giggle, “Work is calling you, badass computer nerd.”

___

When Penelope reached the BAU, Emily was the first one to spot her. She ran towards her, following Penelope to her office.

“Fabulous morning, person who hurt my roommate.” Penelope greeted without looking at Emily to which she replied with an eye roll. “Y/N told me everything.”

“Y/N told you everything about what?” Suddenly the two women stopped on their tracks and turned around. It’s JJ with take-out coffees in one hand and files on the other. “Come on, ladies. Share it with the team.”

“No!” They simultaneously yelled.

“Okay, chill.” JJ handed them each their coffees. “Share it with me. I’ll find out about it anyway.”

Penelope dragged the two women into her lair. Once locked inside, Penelope announced, “Y/N is your ex!”

“Garcia!” Emily hushed her.

JJ’s eyes were wide and almost spitted out her coffee. “I knew there was something!”

“What?” Emily looked genuinely confused.

“Emily, we’re profilers. We see everything.” JJ reminded her. “You were so awkward with her last night. I assume you guys haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“15 years.”

“And it’s still that awkward?” JJ scoffed unbelievably. “Must have been a bad break up.”

“Technically, they didn’t break up but Agent Prentiss here left my friend without saying goodbye.” Penelope squinted her eyes at Emily, arms folded and eyebrows raised.

Emily’s face was almost as red as her blouse now. “I didn’t … I didn’t want to.”

“Then why did you?”

“It’s com-”

A knock interrupted the ladies’ gossip session. “Ladies, Hotch wants us in the briefing room ASAP.” Morgan told them.

“Be right there!” JJ replied. “We’ll continue this later. Over drinks. Just the three of us. Ladies’ night.”

Emily saw no way out of this so she just nodded.

___

It was a terribly bad day at work. The ER was filled with too many people. Patients kept on coming without showing signs of slowing down. Every bed was occupied - some were already in the hallway in wheelchairs - and everyone had something to do. You have not had breakfast or lunch yet. Your cup of coffee left cold at the doctor’s quarters which you’re sure someone threw out already.

Sometimes you wonder why you chose this career instead of just pursuing your love for multimedia arts.

“Doc,” a senior nurse called you. “I have your patient’s labs and ECG right here.” She hands you the chart. “X-ray results are to follow. Let me know if you’ll be requesting more. Bed 5.”

“Okay.” You walked towards the bed, reviewing your patient's chart. Name … age …

Name?

Now the world was playing a prank on you.

“Emily Prentiss?” You call your patient’s name as soon as you draw the curtains. Emily looked up to you, lying on the bed, beaming too much for someone who’s injured. There’s a small stain of blood on her tank top. You felt something stuck in your throat as worry fills your thoughts yet you retain your poker face.

“Y/N?”

“Dr. Y/F/N, resident. I’m,” you cleared your throat. You put down the chart on the bedside table. “I’m here to examine you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Emily adjusted herself on the bed with a grimace. “I got shot. Almost. I was wearing a vest but I think it left a graze.” Emily lifted her top to show you. You don your gloves and inspect the wound closely, pressing softly at the area. You suspect she might have taken more than one close hit from the way the graze looked. Your eyes panned to her eyes staring at your hands.

“Did you get hit elsewhere, Agent?”

“No,” Emily shook her head. But your eyes found fresh bruises on both of her arms. “It’s fine, doesn’t hurt.”

“You’re always a tough cookie, agent?”

“I have to be.”

“Of course.” You assessed the rest of her body, especially her head for any bumps or cuts. Apart from the bullet graze on her chest and the bruises on her arms, you didn’t find anything else worthy of concern or emergency so far. “Do you feel anything else? Any pain?”

Emily had many answers to that but she bit her tongue. It’s not the time and place. She shook her head instead.

“Okay, I’ll get someone to clean and dress your wound. I’ll order an intravenous painkiller. It will take care of the first six hours, at least, but I’ll also prescribe you some oral painkillers and have your home care instructions ready. Do you have someone I can talk to?”

“I, uh, I think JJ is around somewhere. Or Reid.”

“Any relatives?”

“They’re all I have.” There was a small pause. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah, of course. Part of the job.” You wrote your initial reports on her chart before leaving. “So, uh … I’ll call the nurse.” You turned around but Emily grabbed the end of your coat. “Anything else, Agent Prentiss?”

“Can you, if it’s not too much to ask, can you do the IV thing? I just …”

“You hate needles.” I know.

She nodded. “Please?”

Fuck. How can you say no when she’s looking at you with those eyes? Dark, pleading and consuming.

You can lie and tell her you have other patients to attend to but so far, no nurse had called you yet. You hear another resident had come in, too.

Emily’s eyes and hand were still on you.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll be right back.”

Just your dumb, stupid luck.

___

Your shift ended at around 10pm but it’s almost midnight when you got out of the hospital. You already changed your top into a purple t-shirt. You carried your bags, coat hanging on your arm, as you walked to your car. You couldn’t wait to go home and wash off the busy day you had.

You stopped by to take out Chinese food for you and Penelope and a little extra to reheat tomorrow for breakfast.

You heard the TV as you approached the door. Penelope must still be awake and watching a show. You opened the door with your keys and to your surprise, one of your patients today was sitting on your couch. Your eyes met briefly.

“Hey, sweetie pie!” Penelope cornered you and grabbed hold of the take-outs. “Let me talk to you for a minute.” Penelope excused herself and you, dragging you to the kitchen. “I’m sorry Emily’s here but somebody’s got to take care of her and she lives alone. I figured since you’re here and you’re a doctor, this will be the safest choice. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” Your roommate grinned widely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Then it’s fine. I’m going to my room. I had a long day.”

“But aren’t you going to eat? You can watch TV with us.”

“I lost my appetite.” You mumbled. You walked to your room and Emily caught you on the way. She stopped in front of you. “What?”

“I’m sorry for staying. The team insisted and -”

“It’s fine, Agent Prentiss.”

Emily frowned. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

“I’m sorry but I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“Okay, sorry,” She stepped to the side and you walked past her. “Y/N?” You looked back at her. “Thank you for today.”

You flashed her a small smile.

___

You woke up the next morning to a loud scream. You quickly got up and ran to the living room. Your hair still disheveled and pajama pants hanging a little low.

“Is there a fire?” You asked, confused and half awake.

“Sorry for waking you, sunshine. But I cannot do this.” Penelope handed you a gauze, medical tape and scissors. “Help us, oh sweet lord of ER.”

You yawned then sat next to Emily. You disinfected your hands with alcohol and proceeded to clean her wound with povidone-iodine. She winces a little. “Hurts?”

“A little.”

“Well, it’s supposed to.”

“Wow, aren’t you grumpy in the morning.” Emily teased, earning a glare from you and a slightly painful poke. “Ow! Hey, be gentle please. I’m already hurt.” She pouted.

“You have a dangerous job. Couldn’t you be more careful?” You retorted, annoyed.

“Well, I’m sorry the UnSub has a gun and tried to kill me.”

You ignored her mumbling. “Do you have the day off?”

“Hotch gave me the week off.” Emily answered, clearly disappointed. “I can’t believe my doctor suggested a week's rest. It’s not even that bad, right?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks. “And you know better than your doctor?”

Emily smiled. “I guess not.”

You finished cleaning up her wound and changing the dressing. You picked up an ice pack from the fridge and handed it to her. “Ice your bruises. No more than 15 minutes at a time.”

“Yes, doc.”

“Don’t call me doc.”

“You’re a doctor.”

“We’re not in the hospital.”

Emily leaned forward, a little too close to your face. “What should I call you then?”

Up close, you noticed her lower lip has a small cut while her upper lip … well, there’s nothing wrong with it.

You tried not to focus too much on her lips. Tried is the keyword. 

Then, you suddenly felt like your ghost floated above you and gave the back of your head a cold hard slap. Your eyes quickly darted up to her own brown orbs, intently staring back at you. 

“I’d rather you not call me anything at all.” You said firmly and got up. Emily watched you march back to your room.  A small smirk formed on Emily’s face.

You lied on your bed. Heart pounding, head somewhat dizzy, cheeks flushed.

Fuck Emily Prentiss and her stupid, stupid, tempting lips.

___

The three of you ended up watching your second classic film one afternoon with Penelope sitting between you and Emily. You didn’t like the movie that much honestly. You walked to the kitchen to make yourself your favorite drink - soda with vanilla ice cream.

“You still like that huh?” Emily sneaked up behind you. “It’s diabetes in a glass.”

“Guilty.” You took a sip. “It’s my comfort drink.”

“It sure is.”

“What do you need? Ice?”

“You, actually.”

“Why? Something hurts?”

“Nothing you can heal.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N.” Emily stepped closer to you. “I was wondering if we can finally have a talk.”

“We’re watching a movie.”

“Penelope’s just fine.” You both glanced at Penelope who turned her head back to the TV at breakneck speed.

“She put you up to this huh?” You took a seat and you gestured to Emily to do the same. There’s no use avoiding ‘the talk’ anyway as it looks like Emily might live here for the whole week whether you liked it or not. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“Us?”

Emily ran her hands through her hair, not knowing where to start. “I didn’t want to leave.”

Fifteen years.

It’s been fifteen years since you last saw Emily. Both of you were still kids - young, innocent, carefree, hopeful. The day Emily left your life, you were a wreck. You did good at school, acing exams after exams, and eventually got to medical school on partial scholarship. Outside, you tried to be the perfect little golden daughter your parents and teachers expected you to be. Inside? You were empty. You felt as if you’re a shallow case of a person.

The first five years since Emily left, you graduated from high school. You got multiple part time jobs before applying to universities. In between those busy times, you tried to find her - called her up on her phone every single day for three years, wrote letters to her last known address every month for two years. Once, you even tried to sneak into their house but the security guard spotted you and almost caught you. You almost had a bald spot from the security grabbing your hair.

By the sixth year since Emily had gone, you stopped. You realized it’s not healthy anymore. You were holding on to a ghost. So you learned to live the next years of your life without her. After finishing your degree in biochemistry, you moved to LA with your father. You got yourself into UCLA and pursued medicine.

The med school journey wasn’t a smooth ride at all. Yes, you didn’t fail one subject during med school but the harder part came later - the actual practice. You struggled with a lot of things but mostly socializing with different people - strangers - whose life depended on you and your capabilities.

It was only five years ago that you finally started to feel somewhat confident with yourself. Not perfect but you weren’t getting yelled at as much by the attendings anymore. A senior resident even complimented your improvement which meant a lot to you.

Long story short, you survived without her.

Her name had become a memory pushed and tucked away in the back of your mind. You locked it and threw away the key. You had stopped yourself from waiting for answers as to why she walked out on you or why she didn’t fight for you ages ago.

Well.

Until now.

“Y/N,” Emily placed her hand on top of yours and you were quick to retract it. It was a reflex at this point. “Sorry.” She kept her hands under the table. “I know apologizing won’t erase anything that happened to us but I’m really sorry, love.”

“Don’t call me that.” You clenched your jaw. “Just tell me why.”

“She, my mother … she took me to the Middle East when she found out about us. I should have known, I should have seen, that we were being followed by her men every time we went out. She tossed the photos - our photos - to my face. She called me disgusting and immoral and a fucking disappointment all because I loved you.” The last part came out as a mumble but you caught it.

Your eyebrows relaxed, eyes softened. The waterworks in your eyes were threatening to fall again. Damn it.

How would a 17-year-old expect this from her own mother? How was she supposed to know?

“She had all your information and your family’s and I was so afraid that she would come for you.” Emily continued, now looking down at her hands, trembling in fear and probably embarrassment of being vulnerable and open. “I knew she would come for you. She told me so. I will set that girl straight if that’s what it takes, that’s what she said. And you have no idea how that sentence scarred me until now.” Emily takes a deep shuddering breath. “The thought of you being hurt because of me … us … I couldn’t bear that, Y/N. I had to protect you so I made her swear to leave you alone and in exchange I will follow whatever she wanted me to do, whatever she wanted me to be.” Emily glanced back up to you, eyes defenseless and face flushed. “I just want you alive and safe.”

“Emily …”

“You don’t have to forgive me now or ever if you don’t want to. Or if you can’t. That’s okay. I can live with that … I think.” Your ex-girlfriend sat up straight, faked a smile. “But I want you to know that when I got to the Bureau, I did look for you.”

Your eyes met. And from what Penelope was seeing from the living room, everything was evident: the longing, the pain, the memories.

“I found out you got into med school in LA. I was so happy for you, you know that. I knew you would make it. I remember you wanted to be a surgeon at first but then you said you liked kids so maybe pedia -”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I couldn’t … I wanted to, Y/N. I have wanted so badly for years. But when I remember about what I put you through, what my mother put you -”

“Us,” you corrected. “What your mother put us through.”

Emily nodded. “I just couldn’t ruin your life like that again.”

“Do you still talk to her? Your mother.”

“Not anymore. We haven’t been in contact since the last case she brought to the FBI.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Can’t miss someone you don’t know.”

You gave her a sad smile. “You’re strong, Emily.”

“Sometimes I think it’s a curse.”

“It will take some time,” you mumbled. Emily stared at you, waiting for what you meant. “Forgiving you, I mean.”

“I know. You don’t have to.”

“But I understand, Emily. I understand now.”

You shared a friendly smile. You leaned forward to wipe the tear from Emily’s cheek.

Emily held your wrist, feeling your hand on her cheek. You two stayed like that for a few seconds. You were the first one to let go but before going, you left a tender kiss on her forehead to which Emily closed her eyes, feeling your lips against her skin for the first time in a long time.

The moment was almost ruined when you and Emily heard a shriek from the living room and saw Penelope stuffing her mouth with ice cream. Clearly, she saw everything.

You and Emily chuckled.

“Em,” you softly whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Sorry the world wasn’t kind. To you. To us.”

Emily frowned. “It’s not your fault.”

None of this was your fault or Emily’s as it turns out. Now that everything was out in the open, a blossoming hope grew in your heart as you looked at Emily. All the sadness, anger and pain you felt the first time you laid eyes on her at the bar, you felt that diffusing quickly.

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. 

To just kiss her. Just once. Again.

Or hug her.

You don’t know. All you know is that you missed her. And although she looked much older than you remembered her to be - so are you - you still remembered looking at her eyes all those years ago. At the locker room. During classes. At the carnival. At the mall. In your childhood room. The street two blocks away from her house.

Emily stood up, eye level with yours, as if she read your mind. She leaned forward. Your lips now close to hers that you can feel her take a breath. She waited for you to pull away or to ran to your room but you didn’t. The next thing you know was Emily closing the gap between both of your lips.

The kiss was soft. Like the first time when you were two young girls at the locker room the first time she told you that she loves you. Yet, it was also intoxicating, exciting. You felt a jolt of electricity running through your whole body.

The kiss was also quick. It was done before you know it.

Emily flashed a smile. “I’d like to do that again.”

“Me too,” You mentally kicked yourself at how quick you responded to that.

“Let me take you out on a date sometime.”

How can you say no to her?

The answer is you don’t.

“I’d like that, Em.”

“Friday? 10pm? I’ll pick you up?”

“It’s like you know my work schedule.”

“Lucky guess,” Emily smirked. “Let’s go before Penelope dies of excitement. She’s literally red and might combust.”

“Don’t worry, I’m here if she codes.” You share a laugh.

You couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

[nanaminokanojo]

THAWING ICE QUEEN (bonus chapter #2)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

GENRE: college au | smut | smau | smau + prose | everything in between | ons | fubus to lovers | aged-up characters | idk where this is going

⚠️ TW/CW: strong/mature language | 🔞 | mentions of alcohol, smoking, etc. | this has narrations | god-awful pet names | will add more if something arises

A/N: This is 4k+ words of pure filth, I'll have you know. 😂 Anyway, enjoy the bonus chapter. Didn't wanna leave you guys with nothing.

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<back to part 66 bonus chapter part 67>>

"Enjoying yourself without me?"

You chuckled at the sound of Satoru's voice coming from across you . He sure took his time coming into the spring to finally join you after taking your photo. You opened your eyes, and once you did, you were met by the sight of his tall figure coming down the steps of the spring. He smirked, keeping his eyes on you as he unwrapped and tossed the small towel which did a poor job at covering anything of his.

All the while, you watched the magnificent being that he is through half lidded eyes, noticing how his smooth skin flushed slightly as he waded towards you. The steam from the water didn't help in your already clouded vision and thoughts, eyes trailing from his face, down to his wide chest and sculpted abdomen. You observed him without reservations, your gaze piercing as you explored lower between his legs, beaming cockily when his length seemed to twitch at your unabashed attention.

Your tongue darted between your lips as you drank the entirety of his features, deciding that you liked him the most at his vulnerable moments – when he's under the mercy of your touch, bare for you to see every line and curve of what makes up the perfection that was Gojo Satoru. Although he always tried to conceal it with misplaced cockiness, you knew the truth in his reactions, coming to life under your fingertips, blue irises turning into mere rings that enclosed infinite universes when he's on the cusp of reaching his high all because of you.

Satoru sunk into the water not a foot away from you, an effort to conceal the blush that had suffused his cheeks before he was even knee-deep in the hot spring water. You looked away, deciding to give him reprieve but not before throwing a playful smirk his way. He sank even lower until all that was above water was to the point under his eyes, his hair falling over them as the steam made it damper.

"You'll get a nosebleed if you do that," you told him as you leaned your head back onto the artificially arranged rocks behind you, setting the cocktail you've made for yourself earlier on the side of the spring.

He straightened up and pouted at you. "I'll get a nosebleed if you don't stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you asked, feigning innocence as you closed your eyes again. While you didn't have problems showing him just how physically attractive he is, it didn't hurt to tease him from time to time. Satoru is hot. Even the blind would know that.

The water calmed you down earlier, but having him close to you now, knowing he was watching you, seemed to have made the temperature rise. You sat still, letting your muscles relax although the anticipation was bubbling up in your chest. When was the last time you two were intimate? Why were you counting?

"Feeling better?" he spoke, his voice breaking through the sounds of nature that surrounded you.

"Better?" you repeated. "I don't think I was in any condition less than the current one I'm in to warrant that question, Satoru."

"You totally weren't okay yesterday." You could hear the pout in his tone, prompting you to open your eyes. "I just felt drained from the hike," you lied. He didn't have to know the details about your current issues with your dad, and you opted to change the topic, your disposition not swayed by his seemingly nervous small talk. "I am, however, in a good mood."

His lips stretched into a smile as he glanced at you, cheeks tickled pink. He could tell you it was because of the heat of the spring, and maybe you would indulge him and agree with it, but you knew otherwise, deciding to push him even further.

"In a giving mood, in fact."

Your words were like a bomb blast in the relative quiet of your surroundings, its effects and connotation lingering in the air, smoldering into a sizzle, shrapnels driving into his consciousness to drive your innuendo deeper in. This time, when he returned your gaze, he didn't look away, evidently torn between just acting on it and making sure you meant what he thought you did.

And then he broke into a lazy smile, concealing the sudden assault of lust that had made his clear blue eyes hazy. Well, barely. The honest thing between his muscled thighs didn't seem to agree. "Sweet cheeks, stop messing around."

You wanted to make him squirm, be the one to snap even if you're the one who was initiating the act. Gojo Satoru was one confident man, but you know what becomes of him when he lets go of his pride in exchange for unbridled pleasure. That's exactly what you wanted to see – him turning into a hot mess because of you. And you knew just how to do that.

To make your point clear, you took his hand from under the water, slowly lifting it up towards your left cheek. He instinctively cupper your face but you turned your face towards his palm, planting butterfly kisses all the way up to the tip of his index finger. You relished in the way he gazed at you, seemingly bewitched, a smile etching across your lips when his eyes rounded at the sensation of your tongue darting out to lick at the side of his finger.

And then you slipped his finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. Your eyes remained fixated on his every reaction, his breath hitching when you lightly bit the tip.

You had a whole new look in your eyes as they took on a dark, seductive mood. You guided his hand over your body, going lower as you rose up from the water, droplets of steamy water sliding down your naked form. You let his hand go, standing before him and letting him touch you the rest of the way down. You tilted his chin up so he was looking at you. He looked so hot with his hair pushed back, flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips as he felt his way over the curve of your hips.

"Does it look like I'm messing around, Satoru?"

He needed no further goading, taking the initiative by standing up to his full height. Both his hands took their places to cup your head, keeping you still as he dived in, seeking your lips and hungrily coveting them in a seering kiss that set the rest of your body on fire. With one hand, he grabbed onto your waist, squeezing as he dragged you closer to him, and in response, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing closer until your breasts were flush against his taut chest.

Satoru bent down as his hands traveled down your ass, squeezing the bare flesh and grinding the apex of your thighs against his sinewy thighs. He wanted control, but you weren't about to give it to him. He was about to lift you up by the thighs when you bit down on his lower lip, causing him to groan but pause at the same time, eyes wide in surprise.

A giggle bubbled from yout throat as you pushed him against the edge of the spring. "You weren't listening. I said I was in a giving mood." As if to emphasize your point, you shoved him further back until he was forced to hold onto the wooden platform behind him, the water just reaching halfway up his thighs.

"Didn't know you were hungry – Oh shit!" He intended that comment to be smug, but his breath hitched at his last words when you grabbed his balls in your hand just tight enough to warrant his reaction. That ought to show him who's in charge this time, and he didn't seem opposed to it, shutting up and even holding his breath as you slid your hand underneath his shaft. He was heavy on your palm, a tad bit warmer and flushed from having been submerged in the hot water of the spring. And then you wrapped your fingers around him and started pumping.

Satoru let out a shaky breath as you pressed closer, his eyes intent on yours as he broke into a grin. You pulled him towards you just close enough so you could feel his gasped breaths in sync with your hand. "Think you can keep your hands still for me?"

"Mhmm," he agreed a little to eagerly, his nose flaring at the prospect of what was to come.

"You promise?" you asked, your hand stopping its movements when he didn't answer quick enough.

"I promise, sweet cheeks."

"Good." You slowly got down on your knees, just the perfect height to be eye-level with his cock and for the water to reach above your chest. "You touch me, we stop, yes?"

Satoru just nodded not taking his eyes off of you. He watched you, the anticipation radiating from every inch of his skin as he waited for you to make yout next move.

"Your word, baby," you prompted him to which he responded with a quick, "Yes. Just...please –"

You chuckled, stroking him again. "Someone's eager. You're lucky you're pretty." But you gave in to his wishes, moving closer towards him, your tongue pushing between your lips to run the tip of his cock over it, repeating the action of stimulating that specific area before finally wrapping your lips around the swollen head. With a final whirl of your tongue against his slit, you pushed forward, taking him into your mouth. With every push and pull, you took as much of his length a little more at a time, reveling in the sweet noises he was making above you.

"Fuck, baby, you look so pretty with my dick in your mouth," he said between every hitched breath.

You continued to work him up until you felt him touching the back of your mouth, almost nudging at your throat. He flinched slightly when you took him that far again, and the next time you pulled back, you did so to the tip before hollowing your cheeks and giving him a particularly hard suck.

"Nngghh, Y/N – baby, that feels s-so...ah, fuck!"

You hummed, drool dripping to your chun as you continued with your ministrations, taking him deeper while making up for the rest of his length with your hand that simultaneously moved with your mouth with heightening intensity at every turn.

This was what you wanted, see him unraveling, his legs spasming as he tried to keep himself up, knuckles turning bone white as he kept his hands on the platform, trying so hard not to just grab your hair and fuck your mouth the way he wants. He's so pretty like that – fucked out, sweat dripping from his temples from his resolve to keep his end of the deal, flushed across the cheeks and jaw slack from your attention as you deliberately fondled his balls. There was certain satisfaction in bringing a man like him – confident and used to getting his way – down to his knees; a certain degree of pride knowing you were the one who was pushing him to edge. All while you are the one on your knees, literally, and holding the reins with absolute control. The thought of it was enough to make your pussy clench around nothing, heat pooling in depths of your loins. Who would have thought giving Gojo Satoru what he wanted could be such a turn-on to you?

And just when he thought he's in heaven, you take him higher by taking him deeper into your throat, his cockhead pushing down deeper, the momentary loss of air in your lungs an exhilarating sensation as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. All you could hear were broken fragments of your name, his repeated praises and declarations of how good it felt and how close he was.

"S-sweet cheeks...I-I'm s-so close...ha..." Unable to help it, his right hand shot out, and you let him, your teary eyes focusing on him as he took a fistful of your hair and snapped his hips, moving on his own none-too-gently. "You look so pretty for me...so good to me..." Expletives spilled out of his mouth while you choked on him. "I'm c-cum –"

He didn't get to say the rest of his words but had the mind to pull out just in time for the rest of his cum to erupt on your lips and chin, dripping down on your neck, thick and warm. He braced himself on your shoulders as he sank into the water with you, catching his breath as he chuckled.

"Goddamn, that mouth of yours," he rasped, pulling you onto his lap when he saw you darting your tongue out of your mouth to taste him. Satoru licked your neck clean, his mouth seeking yours in a sloppy kiss that was mostly his tongue playing with yours until neither of you can tell whose taste it was either of you were chasing after.

"That good?" you asked him cockily while he kissed down the column of your throat.

He hummed against your skin. "Best fucking head I got. Ever."

You laughed. "Silly."

He gripped your hips, causing you to yelp as he adjusted your position on his lap so that his dick, which was growing hard again, perfectly slotted between your thighs. "Not kidding, baby. I told you. We're just perfect –" He teasingly slid his length between your pussy lips as he pressed you onto him, his grip on your waist tight. "– for each other."

"So you keep telling me."

He smirked at you. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't believe it."

You lifted your hands up to his cheeks, pinching them. "You're so cheesy about it, too."

"You don't like it?" he asked and you could've sworn you saw hurt cross his face. It was fleeting, but you knew you weren't imagining it, especially when he made an effort to distract himself from looking at you, scooping water in his hand and letting the water drip over your shoulder.

You shook your head. "I didn't say that."

At that, his ocean eyes finally met yours, a small smile tugging at the corners of his sensuous lips. "I'll take what I can get. For now..."

"Fo now what – What –!" You let out a surprised shriek when Satoru suddenly stood up, lifting you up by your thighs and taking you with him out of the spring and deeper into the house. Water dripped on the floor from your naked forms, leaving a wet trail in your wake.

"I want you to sit on my face, sweetheart."

And he made you do just that, lying flat on the bed while you kneeled astride his head, hands braced on the headboard while you watched him underneath you. Uncertainty swam in your eyes as you felt his hands grip your hips to keep you suspended enough above his mouth, his piercing gaze trained to your quivering cunt. Satoru always did that, you noticed, and he always did so with such an expression that spoke volumes of his hunger.

Regardless if you were ready for what he has in store for you, he pulled you down closer to give your folds a long lick. The first contact was so electrifying that you found yourself arching your back, a dragged out moan leaving your lips as he tongued at your clit, swirling the tip around it several times before flicking on it in a quick, steady rhythm that had you rising on your legs.

His name spilled from your lips between high-pitched keens and broken pleas. Whether you wanted him to keep going or to stop, you didn't know. But he stole your breath with every shift between his tongue and lips, sucking on your clit and folds like he was tasting water for the first time.

"Oh god," you breathed out hoarsely when he started burrowing his tongue into you, his head moving side to side with the action as he fucked you with his mouth, fast and unrelenting that you felt yourself unraveling before you were even aware of it. Still, he didn't stop, even moaning against you as if to encourage you.

"T-too much...it's too much, 'Toru," you whined, your legs shaking when you felt another wave of orgasm, causing you to squirm away from his touch, bur he wasn't going to let that happen. At some point, he made the decision for you, holding you still and not allowing you to move. His strong arms kept you pinned to the spot just like how he wanted it. Meanwhile, he continued to make out with your nether lips, the noises he was making along with the loud squelching of his lips and tongue so lewd in your ears that in no time, he had you gushing all over him, your slick juices covering the lower half of his face.

"Fuck – ah!" Your hand faltered on the headboard as he licked you clean. "Good girl," he whispered sweetly between kitten licks all over your oversensitive pussy. You were just about ready to topple over on the bed with your legs having turned to jelly under your weight, but he caught you just in time to pull you over himself, sliding you over his abs.

"Goddamn, that mouth if yours," you repeated his words to you earlier, breathless as you spoke.

Satoru had this self-satisfied look about his cum-laden face as he let out a quiet laugh at the mess he made of you. "That good, sweet cheeks? We've just begun though."

You limply fell forward on him, not wanting to put further strain on your thighs. "Shut up," you told him, voice muffled on the crook of his neck which soon turned to whines as he reach down your ass, squeezing before his fingers made their way between your legs, smearing your cum all over your pussy lips.

"You like that?" he cooed in your ear, teasing your fluttering hole and dipping two fingers in just partially when he felt your body twitch. "You've got to answer me, Y/N." But all he heard from you were pleasured sounds, the short, gasps of air eventually becoming quick successions of moans as he worked his fingers into you like well-oiled pistons, lubricated by your juices.

But before you could fall off the edge again, he maneuvered you over to his side so he could lay beside you, reaching an arm over to your front, his fingers gliding over your belly and back into your wetness.

"A-ah! Satoru...fuck..." you squealed when he shoved his fingers back into your throbbing cunt, going deep in search for your sensitive spot as if he hadn't been doing much of that already. You grabbed his hand, trying to stop him, but he tilted your head towards him, distracting you by claiming your lips with his, sloppily kissing you and hungrily swallowing your pathetic mewls.

"You started this, baby. Didn't you say you were in a giving mood?" he taunted you. "Well, I'm in a taking mood, and I want you." His fingers moved faster within you. "I want everything you can give me. You can do it. You've been so good so far."

You let out a soft mewl at his praises, snuggling closer to him to have something to hang on to, feeling as if gravity was failing as he brought you to yet another high, the knot forming in your loins tensing until there was no other way but to let go. The constant way in which he touched you caused your whole body to spasm until you were reduced to nothing but liquid pleasure and on his fingers alone.

"Mmhhh..." You panted onto his chest as his movements slowed down. Satoru took his fingers out, gently caressing your folds in languid strokes as your nerves calmed down a tad.

You were still shaking even as he kissed you tenderly, barely able to respond but letting him in when you felt his tongue probing into your mouth, teasing yours into reciprocation. As he did, he grabbed one of the pillows above your head, pulling away just quick enough to lift your hips a little to slip it under you. It was obvious what he was going to do after, and as if on instinct, you closed your legs together

He kissed you on the cheek, progressing lower and leaving a trail of fire as he moved to your jaw line, under you ear to the side of your neck, your skin flushing on the spots he paid most attention to. Satoru moved to hover above you, caging you into place as he littered your chest with blooming, red roses. His mouth latched onto one of your breasts, taking in as much as he could before sucking on your nipple hard.

Still too overwhelmed that his slightest touches was sending you on overdrive, you arched your back as he played with your succulent tits, shifting his attention from one to the other. "I can't get enough of these babies," he told you in a salacious tone, tongue hanging out as he flicked a sensitive bud. "I love putting them in my mouth," he said absently, covering one with his hand before giving it a rough squeeze. "I love everything about you."

The thudding of your heart grew heavier, and you knew it wasn't because of the physical exertion alone. His words were worming their way into your head, making your whole body go warm and for your chest to feel tighter as butterflies struggled to get out of you.

He resumed devouring your left breast while his hands roamed lower, spreading your legs apart with ease, keeping them open by wedging himself between them. With his hand between your bodies, he stroked his cock and started sliding the underside against your slick-laden slit, slowly humping you. At times, the head of his cock snags against your clit and he would repeat the same movements just to pull little squeaks out of your throat.

"You like that?"

"More...ah, 'Toru...ah...hnngggh..." You started bucking your hips up in time with his rhythm, unable to help it, the friction becoming so good that you thought you were going to combust.

You could feel yourself turning lucid, your brain turning to an incoherent mush with every stimulating stroke of his flesh against yours. But just as you thought it was too much, Satoru drew back, and just as you were reaching your high, he plunged deep into you, the action accompanied by a symphony of your cries of delectation and a guttural groan that spilled past his lips when he was met with little resistance upon his entrance and the subsequent clenching of your walls around him, spasming as if a welcoming hug filled with longing.

Liquid heat surrounded him as he slowly pulled out, torn between just staying inside you and fulfilling his desires which were quickly catching onto him. The latter prevailed as he thrust harder, gradually building up his rhythm. His thoughts were filled with nothing but the fact that what the two of you had transcended just sexual compatibility, sealing the thought in his head that you were made for each other, uniquely so like puzzle pieces coming together.

It wasn't just sex anymore, not to him. The way you fit in his arms, the way your hands felt just right with each other, the way it was so easy to put affection in every single one of his acts towards you. All of those went just beyond physical.

He just knows he had never and will never have anybody as good as you and how you make him feel.

And you were just the same, babbling nonsense as your mind swirled with nothing but Gojo Satoru, not sure if you wanted more, your mind telling you what you wanted but never translating to anything he could comprehend.

"Tell me what you want, sweet cheeks. Come – ah – come on, baby. I know you can do it."

Broken syllables of his name fell past your lips.

"Yes, baby. I'm here." His voice was accompanied by the sound of your hips coming together as he fucked you senseless. He took your limp arms, making you hold onto him as he patiently hung onto what you will say.

"Y-you...I want..." And then your eyes opened, shining with tears as something profound invaded every crevice of your being, radiating from your chest to the lines of your being. "I want you, Satoru," you finally managed to say in one go, and when you did, as if you were released from invisible bonds, you let go fully, heart and soul.

With a few more thrusts, you came around him and more, squirting with the force of a train wreck hitting you both as he continued to drive his cock into your leaking cunt, going against the pressure of your orgasm.

"Holy shit, baby! You're so hot – fuck!"

He followed shortly after you did, spurts of his release coating your walls, his cock swelling with the pride that he made you feel that good. With the strength left in him as his hips involuntarily moved through the pleasure, he rolled you both over so you were on top of him, his body shaking underneath your equally unstable form.

The bed was a mess, you both were a mess, but neither of you moved. He just cradled you on his chest, listening to the sound of your breathing as you came down from whatever cloud he sent you to.

You felt trapped in your mind as you lay still, hearing each one of his heartbeats, feeling when he moved slightly to pull out of you, your mixed essences dripping out of you and onto the space between you. His breaths evened out as yours did, soon replaced by light snored and mumbling.

And then he said your name followed by two words which, albeit mumbled, were very clear to you.

"Love...you."

TAGS LIST: @arxliana @neeneee @charlie-xo @aelynaneedsalottathing @arizzu @cloudxp @justpuddinglol @mikkies @nyfwyeonjun @whats-humanity-lol @letthewindlead @whore-of-many-hot-men @localgaytrainwreck @pikibee @bloombb @mr-underhills-things @lysaray @chocoyanchan @poemzcheng @bookswillfindyouaway @dreamxiing @koutaroo @taelattecookie @kazuhasmaid

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20240205]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[itsclydebitches]

I need more time to put my thoughts in order about tonight's episode, but my initial reaction is that I'm surprised by others' disappointment? I mean, I'm actually not that surprised because coming out stories are intensely personal with viewers all looking for/needing vastly different things from their media, but it just feels like a lot of what (I thought) Ted Lasso was trying to do has gotten lost under specific expectations.

Ted goes off on a long, ridiculous, borderline disgusting story at the worst possible moment? Yes, that's the point. For all my fun TedTrent theories, Ted is (currently) serving the role of the well-meaning, but often ignorant straight man. His function is to both provide the insight and warmth that he's known for - "Actually it does matter to us" - while simultaneously showing how this intensely heteronormative culture would react to a player coming out. AKA messily. If we got a perfect scenario where everyone was accepting and said exactly the right thing, that would undermine the problems the show is trying to acknowledge in the first place. The focus on Isaac's complicated anger and Ted's foot-in-mouth syndrome is just as important to this whole scenario as the club's overall acceptance and the fact that Ted immediately realizes that he fucked up: "I regret that." Ted Lasso is a feel-good comedy, so it's all couched in over-the-top humor, but I thought that was an important acknowledgement: your allies - straight or not, out or not - are likely going to react in cringe-worthy, imperfect ways and the important takeaway there is not that they're irredeemable people who don't love you, but that they're trying and you should gently correct them (as Colin does) and allow them to grow (as Ted does). Despite being an absurd fiction, Ted Lasso is working to write about this in a semi-realistic sense. Instead of a Perfect Coming Out Moment that makes all the queer fans (myself included!) squeal at how ~wonderful~ our beloved cast is for being oh so perfect, we get that realistic awkwardness, misplaced anger, and regret.

We cut away from Colin coming out? Yes, because he's already come out to us. I understand why fans would be disappointed in that, but I don't think it's fair to characterize the show as not allowing Colin to come out at all. That was the entirety of "Sunflowers." Rather than trying to fit Colin's big moment into a locker room halftime, the writers crafted a whole episode where he could grapple with that fear of being outed, be reassured, have a heart-to-heart with Trent, sit together on the monument, go out later in celebration... Ted Lasso made space for all that and, understandably to my mind, didn't want to rehash many of those same beats three episodes later, especially not when we need time to work through the intersection of Colin's story with everyone else. (Because despite this being a queer story-line about a queer man, the show is about the team. Colin's conflict was always going to expand into the rest of the cast.) No, we don't get to see Colin come out specifically to the others, but we did see him come out - both narratively by kissing a man and to Trent - and we see the team's reaction immediately after the fact. Making space for Issac didn't feel like it was cheating Colin to me, or focusing too much on the straight characters, because Colin's story has been a season in the making (plus some details earlier on). To say nothing of the fact that his hesitance about coming out is specifically because he fears the team's reaction... so why wouldn't we grapple with Isaac's negative reaction? We already know Colin's worries, we know what he wants, we see him seeking advice from Trent, we see him reaching out to Issac, we see that failing, and after all that his queer story-line is functionally at a stand-still until something else gives. Issac's explosion is what finally tips the scales.

Idk I don't think I'm explaining this very well because it's late and I only just watched, but I'm of the opinion that Ted Lasso did a lot of work in previous episodes so that they'd have space in this episode to do different work, which is smart. From a narrative perspective, Ted doesn't need to be the perfect ally because Colin already has a supportive queer mentor. "La Locker Room Aux Folles" doesn't need to try to balance Colin's emotional coming out with Isaac's internalized homophobia because "Sunflowers" already gave the audience so, so much, allowing the writers to both keep things on screen for our benefit and then later cut away for the sake of time. As said, stories like these are always going to be a hit-or-miss depending on what each individual fan wants and needs, but I think it's worth keeping in mind that Colin's story is not this single episode; it's all of them combined. Has Ted Lasso really not treated his journey respectfully... or did it just not try to check every queer story-line box in a single episode?

[felixitate]

can't resist | lyb (m.)

pairing ⇢ felix x reader

summary ⇢ felix really only entered the bathroom to retrieve his camera but you're even more tempting than he anticipated.

rating & word count ⇢ 2.3k | 18+ (minors gtfo)

genre/au ⇢ smut, fluff, idk what they are 🤭

warnings/content ⇢ teasing, cursing, petnames, groping, hair pulling, breast play, unprotected sex, creampie, mirror shenanigans, the camera and the rings are involved ig

theme song ⇢ the boy is mine - ariana grande

a/n: yeah the title speaks for itself on what i’m still going through rn lmao you see his hold on me? it's fucking insane like how dare he fr i have not recovered from those ig stories fawk and i don't think i'll ever be

“take photos with me?”

you ask Felix fondly when he is about to open the door. it made him pause a bit, weighing how much time he had since you could take a while with this.

he’s not really in a hurry since the others are still getting their makeup done. good thing that he luckily went first so he’s got time to look for his special camera that he possibly misplaced earlier.

the other boys said no when Felix asked if they'd seen it but he's sure he left it somewhere so that only leaves you. he knew that you’d stay in the spare room to get ready and avoid suspicion from other gala goers so he wasn’t that surprised where he found it.

he entered the bathroom where he found you standing in front of the vanity while taking selfies from your phone. then you’re scrolling to look through the selcas you took so he kinda expected that you’d use his camera already but you haven't.

that's one of the reasons why you take the longest in the bathroom anyway, having the habit of taking pictures when the lighting's to your liking.

so why haven't you?

maybe you want him to take pictures of you instead which he'd happily do. smiling brightly at you, Felix nods as he closes the door. he really can't say no to you and he never has unless he had to. how could he even right now when your eyes sparkle at him like that?

there would be a final fitting later but he couldn’t resist your request.

.

a smile graces your lips when you see Felix approaching your form, standing behind you so you start taking pics of you both. your ivory-coloured bathrobe contrasts his so it’s a perfect combination. well, couple trends are usually matching but you like it this way. he matches your poses the way you instructed.

you feel Felix's right hand on your hip, holding you like he's done many times before. his other hand's still holding the camera that you've been focusing your attention on. you wanted to use it earlier but it would be better with Felix so you decided not to.

bringing your attention back to him, it's then you notice through the mirror how his eyes have been lingering around your sternum.

"lix?"

"hmm?" he answers, his gold-ringed hand absentmindedly squeezing your hip. you smile at how cute he is.

"look at the camera baby" a small chuckle leaves you when get flustered at being caught ogling you.

right the camera. what the hell is he thinking? you took a picture from your phone and Felix leaned in for a final pose. he thought that was it but you suddenly took his camera from his hand, placing it on the glass table beside the sink.

“we haven’t taken photos on your camera yet” you drawl, eyes looking so fascinated while looking at the camera.

“oh yeah, do you want it now?”

his hand reaches for the camera but you stop him, taking his hand instead in yours so he ends up putting his arm around you while you snap another picture.

you lean back and nuzzle Felix, allowing you to feel more of his body against yours. he freezes momentarily and the small gasp that escaped from him didn't miss your ears so you leaned back further, your ass brushing against something hard.

oh.

your plan’s been doing well it seems.

"y/n, fuck, don’t do this to me please"

he knows what you're on now, his breath increasing the more you grind back on him like you didn't hear what he just said.

"hmm?" you faux your concern, making it look like you're just trying to find a good position while still clutching your phone but of course, Felix knows better.

"not right now baby" he pleads again as his body betrays him. it didn't help that your bathrobe seems to be loosening more now too, allowing him to look at your perky nipples that are peeking from it.

you place your phone by the mirror while Felix's distracted by the sight of your boobs. you pondered if you wanna record or not but relented, sparing him with your cheeky antics this time.

pulling down his veiny hand that you're still holding, you cup your left breast with it and he squeezes out of instinct, causing you to moan shamelessly in return.

his other hand travels from your hip upwards after, pulling the robe sideways, revealing your other breast to his hungry eyes. you watch him lean in to kiss your neck from the mirror's reflection then remember that he’s got makeup on.

“lix your makeup..”

his lips were almost touching the skin when your reminder stopped him. he curses internally out of frustration because you're right. there might not be enough time later to redo his makeup so he really gotta be mindful of it.

you felt Felix straighten up, shaking his head a bit to focus. you were about to tease him but both his ringed hands are now on your bare tits, kneading and squeezing knowing how much you like the sensation of those cold rings against your warm skin.

"wish i could fuck you baby" he whispers needily, voice going deeper than it already is as he grinds his dick more against your covered ass.

"what's stopping you?" you whine, clearly so stimulated with all the stimulation from his touches and the sound of his voice.

well, nothing really is so Felix obliges and turns you around to face him. his beauty knocks your breath once again, his blonde hair in a new braid complimenting a lot with the structure of his ethereal face.

"you're so pretty you know.."

a shy smile breaks out on Felix's face at your remark, more so when your hand reaches out to tuck a few strands of his hair by his ear. you scan his face until you catch his eyes, immediately seeing the lust swimming in them with his pupils already dilating.

you prop your body by the sink and shrug off your bathrobe, causing Felix's eyes to widen as he scans your naked body.

“you’re much prettier love”

he wants to kiss you so bad, shower every part of your body with his lips but he can't. he's thinking if he should just face any scolding later since you can probably help him in the department.

you smile warmly at Felix, heart fluttering at his words but you've noticed how much he’s been holding back so you begin caressing his bare chest to return his attention to you.

teasing him crosses your mind cause you love seeing him flustered, looking so cute with the pink dusting over those lovely freckles that you cherish.

"should i mark you here lixie?" you start and the look on his face changes, a slight panic emerging in his eyes at your suggestion.

the gala’s an important event for him and his friends and even if you happen to leave a mark somewhere where it’s covered under his fit later, he can’t risk other people seeing it by accident and possibly getting the both of you in trouble.

“kidding baby” you left a tender kiss on his soft skin to ease him, reeling at his deep sigh of relief from it.

you can’t possibly do that to Felix no matter how much you want to. besides, you’d have more time after anyway so you’ll just make sure to make him feel better right now to make up for all the teasing that you've put him through.

your hands continue to roam around his toned chest, fingers brushing his nipples but you instead play with the pendant of his necklace. he hums deeply, pushing his body closer to yours so you won’t forget how hard he’s been.

poor baby.

he sighs in relief once you finally untie his navy blue bathrobe, the rest of his body naked body now exposed to your eyes. you know he's been dying to fuck you so your hands continue their journey from his chest down to his abs until they reach his swollen dick.

it’s leaking so much already and you want him in your mouth but you don’t have much time.

“help me love? it’s your fault anyways” he chuckles deeply but the laughter leaves him once you grabbed his swollen cock, pumping it at once to spread his precum around.

“of course baby, i’d love to” you pepper Felix’s bare chest with light kisses, basking on his deep moans that are increasing in volume the faster you stroke his cock.

his hands hurriedly untie your bathrobe, parting your legs so he can finally fuck you. he's so close already and hasn't pleasured you much yet, something that he hates each time you have sex because of his lack of self-control.

after Felix tests your pussy with his thick finger, he positions his cock at your entrance and pushes in right away.

soft moans emit from you both once he fills you to the brim. you love the stretch of being full from Felix but you also know how it affects him a lot, his eyes shutting at how wet and warm you feel around him.

he didn't mean to roll his hips before making sure that you've adjusted to his cock but he just couldn't stop. you didn't stop him either, closing your legs around his waist, your hand holding onto his arms for balance.

"b-baby, i won't last long" he breathes out, struggling to contain himself as he continues to fuck you. he opens his eyes and now they’re fixed on your face, looking so tranced as he leans in again.

but before he gave in to kissing you, your hand was quick to pull his long hair.

"no baby.." you gasp out as you do which Felix responds to with a deep whine. he's already so immersed in fucking you, ringed hands gripping your waist so hard that you're not gonna be surprised if you find any bruises there later.

he groans in protest and you tut, though a sharp thrust coaxes a choked moan from you when Felix finds that soft spot and focuses his aim there. 

“don’t wanna..ruin..your makeup..” it's light really, too subtle that you doubt anyone would even notice if it’s smudged but you don't want the both of you to get scolded later.

you're still in your right mind to stay grounded but your brain's getting cloudier when Felix continues to hit it once your back starts arching.

"fuck i hate this" he groans in frustration that he can't even kiss you. at least he'd been doing a great job so far, you look so pretty moaning his name with your hands clawing at his arms because the pleasure's becoming too much.

but Felix knows that you're also determined to not keep him here any longer.

“later hmm? want you to cum right now okay?” he shakes his head so cutely, doe eyes staring at you that your resolve almost broke.

“you first” he whines and fastens his pace, focusing on getting himself together to make sure you cum before him. you're a lot better than him when it comes to self-control but he's trying, he's been trying so hard even with your constant clenching around his cock.

his hand leaves your back to rub your clit and it took a few circles before you unravel before him. he follows your suit not long after, filling you with so much cum. your legs pull his body closer and you hug him as you both ride out your high.

smiling against Felix's bare chest, your hands are nonstop caressing his body and he honestly finds it cute. he’s smiling down at you as he runs his hand through your back to calm you down.

after a few seconds, he grabs the wet wipes from the glass table to wipe his hand before taking his special camera to take a picture of you both. your naked body against his looks amazing from this angle, even more so when you turned back to the mirror with a sly grin while laying your head against his chest.

you're both still breathless when someone's suddenly banging against the door, breaking the silence between your and Felix's exchanged breaths.

he pulls out of you quickly, causing you to whine at the lost feeling. but you didn’t get to process much when he quickly handed you a few wet wipes so you could clean up and face whoever was behind the door.

"open the door you two" the voice belonging to Chan echoes and it's strangely calm so you and Felix exchange a panicked look before hastily putting your bathrobes back on.

the door opens and a very stressed-looking Chan is looking at you both in defeat. he’s dressed already so you even feel worse for keeping Felix too long.

“come on, let's redo his makeup”

he breaks the silence when no one's saying a word. he does kinda sound stressed but you've done your best to not smudge anything on Felix's face so everything should be fine.

"no need oppa, look at him, still so flawless” you confidently smile at him and Felix just shies away both from your lovely compliment and embarrassment at Chan scrutinizing him.

the latter looks skeptical until he surveys Felix’s face before sighing in relief to find that his little brother's face looks untouched, with Felix just looking like he’s sweating normally so he didn't have to explain anything to the makeup artist.

your fingers are tracing Felix's embroidered name on his bathrobe when Chan shifts his eyes on you. he gives you a pointed look and now Felix is the one smiling in mischief.

"we’ll see you later princess"

e/n: this turned softer than i intended oml i just love him sm. i might also do another fic based on this met look of his, something of him being a fairie prince + the theme of the gala since the whole thing pissed me off sm lmao

[frownyalfred]

Question, cause I have an idea I can't shake and I wonder how you think it'd go because your takes are always immaculate, in an injustice style world where Supes goes off the rails and the JL follows him what do you think the Bats would do if Bruce was the one who died?

All of the batkids are alive (none of the kind of weird Damien accidentally killing Dick stuff) and Bruce goes to confront Clark about it and somehow it ends in him dead.

Very distinct scene in my head where Bruce sees it all unfolding and tells the kids he's going to go talk to Clark with very little expectations of success and the next time they see their father it's Kal-el delivering his body to them. Telling them he's sorry, but Bruce didn't understand. He's sure they do though, he's heard them argue with him. They understand sometimes death is necessary.

How do you think they'd react?

(saw some stuff from Suicide Squad Kill the Justice League and was thinking about the Bats and somehow this was born)

Personally I think there would maybe be some murder but you know it's just a little idea

Idk if I'll ever get around to fleshing it out and writing it but it's been plaguing me. I think Alfred deserves to get the final blow, you know if Kal killed his kid. He should be the one with the long range sniper rifle and a clip of kryptonite bullets. He deserves it you know?

I think it all kind of depends on the type of Clark here (is he really Injustice-y yet? is he a straight up dictator when Bruce goes to talk with him, or just warming up?) AND it depends on how Clark explains Bruce's death to the League and the Batkids.

Does Clark kill Bruce out of anger? Is it an unfortunate accident? A little bit of both? If Clark is really falling down the Injustice rabbit hole, he can explain it away as a Joker plot to save face. If he's still Clark, I think he would tell people the truth -- either that it was an accident, or he hit Bruce but didn't mean to kill him, etc.

Sometimes, getting revenge for a loved one's death is about making the person responsible feel your pain and devastation. The Batkids and Alfred will need to evaluate if there's 1) a way to hurt Superman that doesn't end with all of them hurt/dead too and 2) any hope of making Clark feel more guilty/devastated than he already is over Lois, his kid, AND Bruce.

There's nothing like showing up with a big kryptonite blade to kill Superman and him just...agreeing with you? And hating himself for what he did? But a Superman who's falling into that dictator role, who denies responsibility or some responsibility for Bruce's death, who tries to capitalize on it all for his new worldview -- that's a Superman worth fighting against.

If we take the Batkids as Bruce's substitute during the main events of Injustice, then yes. They'll create the insurgency and fight against the regime, in Bruce's memory. But it's an interesting upend of Bruce and Clark's dynamic, since part of their regime/insurgency was always underlaid by the fact that they were/are equals, and once very good friends.

These are Bruce's kids Superman would be hunting down, one by one. Does he restrain himself from killing them, out of some misplaced sense of guilt? Does he want to recruit them away from their insurgency because he knows even one Batkid alive is a huge threat?

All really good questions. Injustice AUs are so much fun, I don't know why there isn't more fic about them!

[hier--soir]

under the night | six

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] language, being held captive, angst, serious violence, torture, injury, blood, discussions of murder, threat of sexual assault [DOES NOT HAPPEN], very brief discussion of religion/the bible, idk if you think i missed anything please let me know word count: 6k part five | series masterlist | main masterlist

Clink, clink.

Maria was drinking a cup of earl grey tea. The bergamot has a calming effect, she’d said, would you like a cup? Her spoon swirled in the teacup, bumping against the china every so often as she mixed in a sugar cube. The cup was pretty, a cream colour with pale pink gerbera flowers painted along the porcelain. Clink, clink; the spoon knocked the side of it again, the woman still unsatisfied by the granules of sugar visible in the dark liquid. It was the only sound in the room, bar the soft pattering of rain on the roof, as the four of them sat silently around Maria and Tommy’s dinner table.

Joel huffed in frustration as she finally lifted the spoon from the liquid and placed it gingerly on the saucer, before raising the cup to her mouth and taking her first sip. She sighed happily, relaxing in her chair as she savoured the taste.

“Okay,” she murmured, looking around the table.

“Oh, we can talk now?” Joel snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. “You’ve got your fuckin’ tea and now you’re ready?”

“Joel,” Tommy warned his brother quietly. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“Well, she could’ve fuckin’ fooled me,” he said spitefully in the woman’s direction. “It’s been days, and you haven’t ordered any searches, haven’t questioned anyone.”

Maria raised her hand to stop him, “It’s a delicate situation.”

“No, Joel’s right,” Cal spoke up. The bags under his eyes were heavy, hair greasy and slicked back off his forehead; the appearance of a man who hadn’t slept in days. “You run things here, and I always thought you did a damn good job of it too. But she’s gone missing, and you’re just sitting back and waiting? For what?” 

“Things are returning to normal here,” she said lowly. “People are calming down, and I don’t want to raise any alarm bells if I don’t need to.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Joel all but snarled.

“It means that I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to leave,” she levelled at him, one eyebrow raised accusatorially. Clink, clink. He flinched as she dipped her spoon back into the cup, tapping it against the rim. “Ellie told me.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand forming a fist below the table. “Told you what exactly?” 

Maria gave him a conspiratorial look. “She told me about being strangled, Joel. She came here a few days ago, upset after hearing the news, and we talked. Ellie worries that she might have left out of guilt… and I must admit, I wouldn’t be surprised if that were true.”

“Wait,” Cal’s eyebrows raised in alarm, eyes darting between Maria and Joel. “What the fuck are you talki-“

“No one was fuckin’ strangled,” Joel ground out, doing his best to stay calm. “Ellie wasn’t hurt. And she wouldn’t fuckin’ leave us; there’s no god damn way she’d even think to go outside those gates alone.”

Joel’s mouth twisted into a pained grimace at Maria’s insinuation, shaking his head jerkily. The last conversation he’d had with you played on his head in a constant loop, the image of your face distorted in despair, the feeling of your guilty tears on his neck – it tormented him. Kept him awake all night, and on edge all day. The idea that you might have decided to leave, out of a misplaced sense of guilt, or fear, or… or because of something he’d said. His chest tightened at the thought. He’d told you not to stay at the house if he wasn’t there, hadn’t he? That’s why you’d gone home alone that night, instead of coming back to him. It won’t happen again, is what you said. Joel mulled the words over in his mind endlessly, searching for a hidden meaning in your tone that he might have missed; a plan to leave him.

Tommy watched the three of them silently, the corners of his mouth downturned in dismay. To see Joel be so distraught was hard for him. Ellie had confided in Tommy that Joel had hardly spoken for the past three days. That he wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating. She kept a close eye on him and didn’t pry; simply sat quietly in whatever room he resided in, and just kept a watchful eye on him. Tommy couldn’t thank her enough for it. He’d watched his brother experience so much loss, so much heartache, and he cringed to realise they were witnessing it happen to him all over again.

“She wouldn’t leave me,” Cal broke the silence, his voice cracking on the last word. He reached up hastily to wipe the corner of his eye. “We made an agreement when we first got here. If either one of us decides we aren’t happy, then we leave – together. No questions asked. She wouldn’t break a promise.”

Joel glanced at the younger man, absorbing his words with a blank expression. It still unnerved him sometimes; to gain further insights into the tightknit bond between you and Cal, but he pushed all negative feelings down, knowing the he was right.

“She’s still in Jackson,” Joel said with a tone of finality, straightening his shoulders.

“So what do you suggest we do?” Maria asked. “I’ve already asked so much of our community, I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here.”

“Some fuckin’ community it is,” he muttered. “Women gettin’ stolen out of their god damn homes.”

Tommy gave him a look that said, not helpful. Joel ignored him.

“We question them – all of them,” he asserted. “Ransack every fuckin’ house in this town if we have to. She’s here somewhere – whoever’s doin’ this can’t keep her hidden for long.”

Maria nodded slowly, sparing a short glance in her husband’s direction. “We’ll question people then. If we go to the right ones, someone is bound to spill something.”

Tommy stared at his brother, taking in the way he stared intensely at the woman. “You can’t be a part of it though,” he said softly. Joel’s head snapped in his direction, eyes narrowing.

“Tommy,” he glared, only to be quickly interrupted.

“You’re too high strung, both of you are,” Tommy said, glancing between Joel and Cal. “If you’re out there knockin’ down doors, you’re just gonna scare people off, and somebody will get hurt. We can’t risk you two causing a scene.”

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Cal grunted, hand smacking down on the table.

“You won’t be,” Maria said firmly. “Someone needs to be waiting if she shows up. So wait. If she shows up at either of your homes, you’ll be there.”

“You’re fuckin’ delusional if you thin-“

“Stop,” Maria interrupted softly. “Have either of you taken a moment to consider it might already be too late? It’s been three days… Do you really want to be the ones to find her if she’s…. I’m trying to keep you both separated from this, for your sakes.”

“I’m not fuckin’ listenin’ to this,” Joel grunted, pushing his chair from the table and stalking towards the front door. With his hand gripping the doorknob, he turned his head to the side, staring back at them from the corner of a tear-filled eye.

“She is out there somewhere, alive, puttin’ up a goddamn fight. And when I find her,” he spoke with his back to them, voice dangerously quiet. “I’m going to kill everyone who had anything to do with this. And you two won’t be able to stop me.”

Joel didn’t need to look at him to know that Cal agreed.

The curtains were always the first thing you saw. When your eyelids managed to crack open, to break through the dried blood that crusted over your eyelashes, you would always notice them first. Large, bundled drapes that reached the floor, covering the walls, concealing the windows and any potential natural light. It was so dark all of the time, and so time had lost meaning. You couldn’t tell how many hours, or days, had passed. All you knew was that the curtains, made from a dark fabric, with pictures of small birds sewn onto them, were the first thing you saw every time you opened your eyes.

Sparrows, the thought whispered through your mind. Little sparrows sewn into the curtains.

A small metal table was positioned in the corner opposite to where you laid on a thin mattress, arms tied to a pipe protruding from the wall. Sometimes your eyes flickered to it, trying to glean what was on it, but it was futile because of the distance. Candles were placed sporadically around the edges of the room, providing a vague yellow light to the space which allowed you see these things. But no natural light meant not knowing when the sun rose and fell., so you learned to rely on a different schedule. Twice a day he would bring a meal into the room, and you did your best to note the time passing, but even that provided little relief. Dehydration and pain had you dropping in and out of consciousness, and you rejoiced in the respite that sleep brought. Sleep brought quiet. Waking, however, brought with it a stark reminder of where you were.

An unpleasant stretching sensation resided in your arms. The muscles burned from hyperextension from constantly stretching behind you to the wall, your hands numb from a lack of blood flow due to how taught the rope around your wrist was pulled. But no matter how uncomfortable, you never turned your back to the door. That way he couldn’t enter the room without you seeing him immediately.

The throbbing in your foot, and the smell of metal was always what you noticed next. Blood stained the lower half of the mattress, and you did your best not to look down. But the smell was overwhelming, and you knew you had to see how much blood you’d lost. Your right foot was caked in dried blood, and the sight of one of your toes missing was enough to make your stomach curl every time, as waves of violent nausea rolled through you.

“That’s fine,” you whispered hoarsely, attempting to convince yourself. “Never used that one anyway, can live without it.”

Talking to yourself helped. Although your thoughts were often delirious and half-baked, hearing your own voice out loud brought a certain sense of calm.

And you’d formed a routine. Where every time you woke, you calmed your breathing, and forced yourself to decide how you were going to behave. How to survive another encounter with him. You’d chosen violence the first time, and you came to sorely regret it.

He’d been watching you that first day; waiting for you to stir. It had been dark, but you still saw him instantly. Cross-legged on the floor beside the mattress you laid on, dark beady eyes bearing down on your skin like weights. The itchy burn of rope against your wrists wasn’t as noticeable at first, for you were distracted by the thick wad of material in your mouth, placed there to keep you silent. When your brain had fully woken up, you’d glared at him in a wide-eyed panic, moaning urgently against the cloth between your teeth, tears brimming in your eyes. No, no, no, no.

“Shh,” Lincoln had murmured, brushing the hair out of your eyes. “It’s okay, shh.”

Tentatively, he reached down and tugged the cloth out of your mouth. You sucked in sharp panicked breaths, staring up at him as the feeling of white-hot terror spread through your veins, all the way from your neck down to your feet. It was him. All along, all the women, it had been him. This embarrassing, weak man, who’d had you fucking fooled. You’d thought him a creep, but not this. Never this.

“Breathe,” he’d whispered, stroking your cheek with his fingers. Heaving sighs tore out of your mouth, and you turned your head in his hold, brushing your nose along the palm of his hand. His eyes shone with appreciation at the gesture, and he smiled. “You’re here with me now. It’s just you and me.”

Holding his gaze for a split second longer, you sank your teeth into the flesh of his hand. He shouted in pain, attempted to pull back, but you bit him harder, deeper. The taste of metal filled hit your tongue, but you didn’t let go until his other hand struck you across the face, knocking you back.

He'd hit your left side, and the all-too-familiar buzzing soared through your ear, exacerbating the pounding in your skull. “You cunt,” he spat, rising to his feet. He glared down at you, cradling his wounded hand against his chest.

And then his foot was slamming into your ribcage. “You stupid,” kick “fucking” kick “cunt” kick. The breath left your body, and you curled in on yourself on the thin mattress, wheezing, until he gave up.

“You won’t do that again,” his reedy voice called out from behind you. “Do you understand?”

Your back was to him, eyes clamped shut as you tried desperately to regulate your breathing. A stabbing pain burned in your right side, flaring every time your chest expanded with a breath. His hand came down on your shoulder, flattening you on the mattress.

“Speak,” he had snarled. “You will answer me when I talk to you, SPEAK.”

Your bloody lips stayed sealed in defiance, glaring up at him. Slowly, the corners of his mouth began to turn upward, lips stretching open to reveal a faded set of crooked teeth until he was grinning down at you. “Okay,” he nodded, reaching into his pocket and walking to the end of the mattress. “You want to see what happens when you disobey me in my house? I’ll show you what happens.”

It had been quick.

Flashes of it were burnt into your memory, but the feeling of the moment evaded you when you thought back on it. Him kneeling on your shins, saying “Do as I say, or I’ll clip your wings, little bird.” Pliers in his hand. The feeling of the cold metal on your foot. The smell of iron. A pinkie toe on the floor, by the mattress, in a crimson puddle.

Your hoarse, tormented wails had filled the room so suddenly that Lincoln was cursing while he stuffed the rag back between your lips, muttering something about people hearing you.

He had loomed over you, torso pressed against yours, gritting his teeth and laughing. Put his hands around your neck and whispered of the stories he’d heard about you, that he’d wondered about you since the day Tommy introduced him to you. “I think that was the moment I decided,” he said. “The moment I knew you were going to be mine – it was the very first time I saw you.”

“I wanted to know what he saw in you,” he’d jeered, breath hot against your neck. His hand gripped your throat, squeezing your windpipe intermittently, only ever letting up when your eyes started to roll back and the pressure inside your skull from a lack of oxygen started to become unbearable, only to increase the pressure again once you’d had a few seconds to breathe. “I’d always thought you must be a good lay, if you’ve got big bad Joel Miller whipped like a dog. Realised pretty damn quick I’d have to find out for myself.” Your arms fought tirelessly against the ropes that bound you to the wall, limbs thrashing beneath him, trying to inflict any sort of pain on him.

You frantically mouthed the word no around the rag, lungs heaving in search of oxygen. The last thing you saw before you passed out was his haunting grin.

And you were smarter after that.

Lincoln was hard to read. When he came to the room next, he acted as though the altercation had never happened. And so you followed suit. You listened when he spoke, and answered accordingly. You ate the food he slid across the floor to you. You held in a disgusted reaction when he gestured to the candles around the room one time, and said, “Romantic isn’t it? Candlelit dinner for two?”  

In the quiet moments, your mind would float away, and you’d allow yourself brief moments of respite, imagining that you were somewhere, anywhere, else. In your dreams, you were with Joel. Safe in his home, in his bed, playing scrabble with Ellie on his porch while he kept score. You tried to remember the way his laugh sounded, or the way his hands felt on your skin. But everything was warped, the memories unclear. Your brain lacked clarity, and the pain distracted you. And Lincoln could tell where your thoughts went in those moments; you almost feared he could read your mind. As if your brain was splayed open before him, and he was pecking at it in curiosity.

“No one will find you,” he’d say softly. Never nastily, but in a tone that was matter of fact. “They aren’t coming for you. It’s just you and me now, sweet girl.”

You would blink away the tears in your eyes and try not to let him see how afraid you were that he was right. Your memories with Joel felt so hazy, and the last time you’d seen him he had been devastated. He feared what you’d almost done to Ellie, feared how out of his control it had been. Maybe it’s for the best, the thought raced through your brain. Maybe they’ll be happier without you.

Those thoughts were the hardest to shake. And they cut deeper than any injury Lincoln could ever inflict.

One night, when it felt like almost a week had passed, Lincoln entered the room holding two plates.

“Dinner time,” his thin voiced called, and a chill ran down your spine. Slowly, you pushed yourself into a seated position, cringing as pain shot through your side.

He placed a plate beside the mattress before tenderly undoing the rope around your left wrist.

“Eat up,” he murmured, taking a few steps back before settling onto the ground and picking up his fork.

You gazed down at the raw red marks around your wrist, basking in your favourite moment of the day – just a few sweet minutes of ‘freedom’. With an aching chest, you saw what rested on the plate. A kind of dark meat, and a small serving of parsnips.

Oh, Joel.

Sucking your lips into you mouth, you willed the tears in your eyes to dry up, desperate not to let him see any sign of weakness.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Lincoln reaching out across the space between you, and then he placed his thumb and forefinger over the big toe on your right foot, squeezing it once in a silent threat. Your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to pull away. Speak.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered hoarsely, staring at the food.

“It’s dinner time, when else would I feed you?” he attempted to joke, hand leaving your foot to pick his fork up again. When you didn’t respond the smile slipped off his face. “You’re in a bad mood today,” he decided. “I suppose I understand.”

He watched you like a hawk, eyes raking over your features, your bloodstained clothes, the way you gazed despondently at the plate before you. “Surely you can appreciate though… I mean, it’s just… delightful, don’t you see? To see someone be brought down to their basest human form. No sunlight, minimal human interaction. You rely on me for water, for food, for company. I am all you have anymore, and it is simply… delicious.”

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you shuddered involuntarily, his words making goosebumps break out across your skin. 

“I think so,” Lincoln nodded contemplatively. “It’s not inherently sexual though, I’ll have you know.” You stared, and he let out a low chuckle, hands raising defensively. “Not entirely, at least.”

“You’ll get caught,” you sneered, ignoring the way a cut on your upper lip reopened when your mouth pulled open to reveal your teeth. “You’ll slip up and someone will notice. Joel will notice.”

“Only time will tell,” he mused around a mouthful of food. “Never been caught before though, have I? Not with Milena, or any of the others before you. Not even with my wife; although it was certainly easier to get away with it in those days. The world had gone to shit – everyone was going missing; assumed to be dead or infected. It was so easy. Our girls never had a clue. They trusted me, you see? My beautiful little birds. Believed me when I told them she was lost, that she must’ve been infected. I think that’s what I adore the most – the trust. It was hard to come by here, in Jackson. People were so wary, I had to build up their confidence in me. Really ease into things, you know? But some of these women, they just saw what they wanted to see. A few kind smiles, some silly jokes, and they were mine.” Lincoln sighed wistfully, gazing absentmindedly at the curtains. “Do you like them?” he changed the subject suddenly. “They’re sparrows. Sewed them on myself.” Good God, he was still so fucking chatty.

Nausea twisted in your abdomen. Acidic bile burned in the back of your throat, threatening to bring up the pathetic contents of your stomach. “And your daughters?” you hesitated, wary of angering him. “I… I remember you saying they died.”

He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, and you noticed one of his eyebrows twitch at the mention of his late children. “I let them go quickly,” he exhaled with a shrug. “Painlessly. It didn’t make sense to make them endure this world anymore. It was a mercy, if anything.”

“Fresh out of mercy then?” you asked bitterly. “If you’re so kind, and so fucking merciful, then why the are you dragging this out? Why won’t you just fucking end it?”

Fork dropping onto his plate with a loud clang, Lincoln murmured your name kindly. “Please understand,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll get the chance again. You might be my last for a few months… so I’m trying to savour every minute I have with you.”

You stared at him, blinking slowly as you absorbed his words. How long could you possibly survive down here in these conditions? But the truth was, you knew the answer to that. You knew because you’d survived for years out in the open, with less food and less water than this. Here you had shelter, warmth, food, and water. He could keep you alive for as long as he wanted you.

Realising it had been some time since you responded to him you offered a meek smile and said, “Tell me more about the sparrows.”

Lincoln looked at you curiously. Trying not to appear uncertain, you reached forward and scooped some food from the plate with your free hand and began to eat. The action alone reminded you of Cal. Of dark nights, huddled together in dusty broken-down buildings, eating whatever food you’d been able to find out of the palms of your hands. You sniffled pathetically and tried not to think about him again.

“Good girl,” he murmured almost inaudibly, and you fought off a shiver. Swallowing made your chest ache. Based on the swelling around the middle of your torso, you assumed at least one of your ribs was broken. Even inhaling brought a sharp pain to your right side, but swallowing? That was a whole other world of pain.

Lincoln spoke about the birds, told you how they symbolised joy and simplicity, and your eyes flitted around the room, taking in as much as you could in the dim yellow light. And then suddenly, he was turning his head fully to stare at the curtains. His back was almost entirely to you, and your heart stuttered painfully at the opportunity that had presented itself. From this angle, you were sure he wouldn’t be able to see you in his peripheral vision. Was this on purpose? Was it a test? Heart pounding, you worked silently to push the remaining food off your ceramic plate and onto the floor. Eyes focused on him, you waited for him to turn back, to check in on you, to do anything – but he didn’t.

“You know in the bible,” he said thoughtfully. “Sparrows represented God’s love and care for his creations.”

You hummed in response, gripping the plate in your hand and edging forward. Sweat tickled your forward, made your skin itch. You wanted to wipe away the fresh blood that had oozed from your lip onto your chin, but you refrained. No sudden movements. He was so close now, and this chance would not be wasted on you.

Do not be afraid, you thought.

Blood rushed in your ears as you propelled yourself forward, smashing the plate down upon the crown of his skull.

Lincoln pitched forward, his face knocking against the cold ground with a sickening thwack. He howled a ragged, guttural noise of pain, but his movements were sluggish, his reaction time too slow. A fiery pain roared in your side from the movement and you whimpered, dropping the jagged shard of the plate that remained in your hand. Gripping his ankle, you cried out at the strength required to tug his body toward you. He was writhing on the ground, trying to fight against the fog in his brain no doubt, but you pulled him still, until he was perfectly close.

He mumbled your name, and you brought your fist down over his nose, effectively shutting him up.

“Stop fucking saying my name,” you growled, angrily swiping perspiration off your upper lip. This was it. If this didn’t work out, if he regained the upper hand, you’d be dead, no questions asked. You’d started this, and now would certainly be your only chance to finish it. God, your ribs were on fire. You hastily dragged a fragment of the plate in a sawing movement across the rope keeping your other wrist tied, and when it broke away, you heaved a painful sigh of relief.

Planting your knees on either side of his body, you straddled his chest, trapping his arms to his torso. You patted down his body, searching his pockets until you found what you were looking for. The pliers were cold and heavy in your hand. Lincoln blinked lazily, gazing past your shoulder at the roof.

You reached down and gripped the sides of his head. “Look at me,” you seethed, before slamming his head back into the ground. He groaned loudly, but his eyes focused on your face. Blood poured from his nose, spilling into his open mouth and filling the gaps between tooth and gum.

“You won’t kill me,” he garbled out around the crimson liquid. “My little bird… I know you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Stop talking,” you moved to be beside his body and pressed your knee onto his left arm.

“You won’t,” he was speaking incessantly now, rambling. “I know you, you’re good. You’re so good, you sweet girl. You wouldn’t kill, and that’s why I like you. I could see it in you. You’re too good for this world, I’m trying to help you, don’t you see?”

“Shut up,” you snarled, pushing the pliers down until they were positioned around his pinkie finger. “You think you fucking know me? You have no idea of the things I’ve done.”

His eyes blinked lazily, trying listlessly to focus. His free hand reached sluggishly towards your face, and you batted it down roughly. Gripping the pliers in both hands, you pressed down. The sound of his screams filled the room as his pinkie finger rolled across the floor.

“You want me to come into my home,” you sneered. “Take me, hide me away, and then kill me?” Positioning the tool over his ring finger, you cut him slowly, revelling in the pained sounds leaving his body, the way his blood spilled onto your hands as you worked. “Oh, Lincoln. You’ll have to try harder than this.”

Again and again, you worked with a gruellingly slow pace, removing all five digits. You didn’t notice that his free hand was gripping your arm so tightly that his nails had drawn blood. Bile rose in your throat, but you swallowed it down. Do not be afraid.

“Please,” he was sobbing, his mouth wide open like a sore on his face, jagged teeth exposed through thin bloody lips.

And yet as he begged, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel remorse, because through the tears, and the snot, and the blood, it wasn’t just Lincoln that you saw. It was that boy, from a decade ago. That boy that climbed on top of you and laughed. Who enjoyed your fear. Who held you down that night, and every night after, plaguing you in your sleep for years. The boy you couldn’t fight. The boy you couldn’t kill. You wouldn’t let it happen again. Never again.

A memory flitted through your mind so quickly it almost didn’t register. But his voice was clear in your head. Joel, and the words you’d shared in front of the fireplace at your home so many weeks beforehand.

“I want to be strong, Joel.”

“You are strong.”

You refocused on Lincoln’s face.

“You want to be in control?” you sputtered, vaguely aware of how deranged your shrill voice sounded. “You want women to be quiet little toys for you to play with in this sick game you’ve created? I’m a fucking person! I’m real!” your voice cracked. “You want to kill me, Lincoln? Let’s see you do it without your fucking fingers.” You realised then that you were crying. Soundless tears streaked down your cheeks, leaving clear trails in the dirt and blood that stained your face.  

He looked on the verge of passing out, and you tore his hand off your arm, stumbling away from his body. You stepped awkwardly on your right foot and yelped in pain, grimacing at the bloody footprint that followed behind you when you walked. Wrapping an arm around your torso, against your ribs, you struggled to breathe. Running on pure adrenaline, your eyes drifted toward the table in the corner. A pocketknife and a lighter laid serenely on the top of it, and you stumbled toward it slowly.  

But a heavy blow landed on the back of your knee, stopping you in your tracks. Your arms flailed as you fell forward, and when you hit the ground, the table came toppling down with you.

“S-stop,” Lincoln was speaking, his speech slurred and disjointed. His bloodied hands clawed at your legs, pulling your body towards him while you thrashed against his hold. Your leg kicked backward desperately and connected with his face, and you screamed at the throbbing pain that shot through your foot.

Neither of you noticed how the table had knocked over multiple candles, or the way fire blazed along the bottom of the curtains. Little sparrows, turning to ash as flames snaked their way up the drapes, slowly engulfing the walls of the room in vibrant red.

You fumbled for the pocketknife on the floor, rolling onto your back just as his weight landed on top of you. His heavy breaths hit your face, blood dripping from his nose and splashing onto your skin.

“Little bird,” he whimpered brokenly. “Why would you ruin this?”

The temperature in the room had risen exponentially, and the pair of you were so close to the wall that it was impossible to ignore now. Wild flames licked at the bare skin of your arm, but you paid the burn no mind, pushing against his face, his neck, trying to get as much distance between you as possible.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he howled, landing a heavy blow across your face. You coughed roughly, blood spitting up from your mouth onto your chin.

You gave up on pushing him back, instead using your hands to fumble with the knife. Lincoln’s good hand gripped your throat, his remaining fingers pressing down on your windpipe. Blood roared in your ears, and you were sweating, and god it was so hot. The air thickened with smoke, making it harder to breathe than it already was. Your hands were so slick with blood that it was difficult to unhook the small blade, but after a few moments you did it. Gasping for air as he bore his entire weight against your neck, you plunged the knife into his side.

A choked sound of surprise fell from his mouth, and then air was rushing into your lungs, and you were coughing harshly, watching as his body collapsed to the side of you.

He was still alive when you crawled on top of him, eyes bulging as he gripped the handle of the blade lodged in his side. You slammed your fist against his broken nose, and both of you cried out in pain. By this point, the fire was roaring through the room, the four walls covered in a beautiful mix of orange and red flames. The heat was sweltering, and so so close that sweat dripped from your nose and chin.

A deafening bang reverberated through the room and you covered your face instinctively. Shattered glass from the windows rained through the air and covered the ground, and moonlight streamed into the room.

Distantly, you thought you could hear voices, or the sound of a door opening, but you ignored it. Impossible. Your fingers wrapped around Lincoln’s spindly neck, and you positioned your thumbs over his windpipe, before pressing downward with all of the strength in your body. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, but you pushed through it, gathering blood and spit in your mouth and releasing it in a spray onto his face. He flinched back at the sensation, and you grinned messily.

You imagined briefly what you must look like; covered in a mix of blood and dirt, hair matted to your head, straddling this man, and grinning down at him.

“Are you afraid?” you whispered.

You could see the light slowly fading from his eyes, and you pressed harder, arms burning with the effort. A burning sensation exploded in your left thigh, but you ignored it, digging your elbows into his chest for leverage and pushing. In the second you realised it was about to be over, there were hands on you. Gripping you, wrapping around your waist, wrenching you away from him.

The foreign hands were pulling you back, tugging you towards the door, but your eyes were trained on Lincoln, as he gasped for air on the floor, alive. You could hear shouting, male voices yelling so closely, but the words were indecipherable. And then suddenly, you were enveloped by cold, winter air. You were outside.

Hyperventilating, you dropped to your knees on the ground, burying your red hands in the wet grass, and wailed. Thick tears blurred your vision and rolled down your face in hot rivulets.

The relief was short lived though, as those hands returned to your body. Gliding over your back, squeezing your shoulders, touching your face. Your stomach rolled violently.

“Don’t touch me,” you begged, your voice an unfamiliar shriek as it ripped from somewhere deep inside your body. “Get your fucking hands off me, don’t fucking touch me, don-“

“Darlin’, it’s me, it’s me,” you could hear, but you just fought harder, beating against the solid wall of brick in front of you, pounding your fists against his chest.

“I’ll fucking,” you gasped for air, eyes clamped tightly shut. “I’ll fucking kill you, get away from me.”

But familiar hands were gripping your face, holding you tightly, forcing you to look, and when you did, it’s like your body went limp. All the fight in you disappeared.

You mumbled his name, and he nodded furiously, those brown eyes you loved gazing into yours, panic and concern evident in the harsh lines across his forehead, in that deep frown you knew so well.

“It’s me, baby, I’ve got you,” his voice was like a song in your ears, and you closed your eyes and let him hold you, listening to the desperate apologies he whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, I’m so sorry, I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I’ve got you now, it’s over, it’s over.”

part seven

tag list &lt;3

@huffle-punk @n7cje @ghostofjoharvelle @nrmnie @sarahhxx03 @casa-boiardi @leeeesahhh @missgurrl

[accidentalshifter]

Writing fanfiction is a gateway to shifting, I swear!

Before working on "Dawn Misplaced," my Originals/TVD fanfiction project, I didn't dream of characters breaking the fourth wall or know it was possible to interact with them within my sleep... And I certainly didn't think it was real that another version of me could exist in a fictional world much less this Universe! OK I did. But, I figured there were huge margins of separation between me & myselves. And I figured that it was "more logical" to assume that what I was really doing was ✨️ using my imagination to combat a deep sense of inner loneliness ✨️ with extra steps involved. The dream worlds I'm used to exploring seemed way easier to explain. They were metaphors for psychological forces or archetypes in my psyche. Not real. Not truly.

That idea has recently changed. It's real. It's all real. At least, it's very real to me. Antis get fucked.

When Netflix (*hiss*) removed The Originals from their selection, I lost interest in writing Dawn Misplaced, tried to move onto another endeavor, and put vampires out of my head. Tried. Apparently, my imagination had other plans. I started having weird, vivid dreams of being a character within The Originals-verse. Despite resisting these dreams, they ramped up, becoming much stronger, until they were leaking over into my waking life as intrusive daydreams. Sometimes, they lasted for just a second. Other times? It felt like hours had gone by even though it'd only been minutes in my CR. These daydreams felt like tugs on my brain from somewhere I couldn't explain.

Who is tugging on the other side is still very much unknown. Maybe it's my DR-self? Idk.

Half a year has passed doing my damnest to deny the pull. After all, I had my own dreams to play in!! And the (theoretical) Mikaelsons have plenty of shifters on their payroll... Why the hell would they want one more shifter???

Especially someone like me:

✅️ 35 years old

✅️ no money

✅️ no prospects

✅️ a burden to my family

✅️ frightened

No accounting for their taste but six months and countless intrusive daydreams later and I am FED UP with taking a passive stance on this. I've decided to treat this like any other dream world I explore and get to the bottom of these tugs! And possibly fist fight the one who's responsible for them. Before I do that though, I want to make a list of all the "mini shifts" or intrusive dreams that I've had since this ordeal started. Thinking back on them, I can see a disconnect between the dreams I'd have when I was asleep vs. daydreams I have when I'm awake. Tw: this list of scenarios are NOT for those uncomfortable with violence, blood, death, or manipulation. My version of the Mikaelsons don't play nice in my dreams.

Asleep dreams: Seem to play out as if I'm in the body of a character within The Originals and important to the plot somehow.

Awake dreams: Seem to play out as if I'm an invisible ghost of my CR self just watching things unfold around me while being unable to communicate or be seen by anyone.

List of TVD/Original-verse Minishifts (Part 1)

⚜️ Walking down the main staircase of the Mikaelson mansion (the one way out in the country) while hearing arguing voices. I see Hayley first. She's eating a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios nonchalantly. Rebekah is on her phone, swipping left on an app. When I get half-way down the staircase, Elijah and Klaus (the ones who are arguing) stop their bickering to drag me into it. Elijah turns to me, asking: "You agree with me, don't you?". Klaus makes a sarcastic face & asks "Surely you won't agree with my *morally tiresome* older brother?" At this point, I become lucid inside the body of this person I'm in. I pause for a second before responding, "Uh, maybe, I don't know??". Elijah looks at me weirdly at that reply. [Asleep]

⚜️ I wake up in a bed I don't recognize. It's a four-poster bed, carved out of polished dark cherry wood. The sheets smell clean & feel good to the touch. Morning light is pouring through a window. It's warm on my skin. I'm groggy as the body I'm in slides out of bed & stumbles over to the window to peer out of it. I can see an apple orchard and a driveway running straight through it. I notice how red the apples are, fixating on that for whatever reason. As soon as I do, I hear a sort of wind noise. Like an errant breeze just ran through the room. Elijah's voice drifts into my ear but I don't catch what he said. My body turns to face him, I feel my mouth moving. I'm saying something. I can't hear what I'm saying, tho. [Asleep]

⚜️ Kieran is kneeling at the foot of the altar inside St. Anne's. The heavy smoke of bitter incense clouds the air, wreathing around the priest as he mutters prayer after prayer. I'm not inside a body this time. I'm nowhere. It's like I'm viewing this scene remotely in a 3rd person perspective. The candles burning at the memorial altar in the alcove flicker, their flame suddenly growing huge. Whispers are heard all around. I hear Father Kieran reply to them, "Yes, I understand." [Asleep]

⚜️ "Now, Elijah, we've tried mercy and peace and leniency, but these witches are officially out of control-" I hear Klaus ranting before I gain my senses. I'm back inside whoever it is I'm possessing (?) standing in the kitchen of the Mikaelson mansion while Elijah & Klaus are arguing. Again. Rebekah makes a snarky comment about Klaus and how his tolerance policy usually involves a dagger, so she's on the side of the witches. Klaus snarls, pulling up the long sleeves of his shirt to display his arm. It's covered in a weird tattoo that seems to be growing, crawling towards his chest, & neck. It almost looks alive. "We have to think about this sensibly, Niklaus," Elijah says. And Klaus, in turn, snaps that's it's a little hard to think about anything but dead witches with this curse on his arm. I begin to speak. But, I wake up in my CR a second later. [Asleep]

⚜️ Again, I'm walking down the staircase. It seems like that's where I become lucid in my dreams the most. The mansion is silent, too silent. Maybe everyone is gone?? The minute that thought crosses *my mind*, I sense the air shift and feel the body I'm possessing get slammed hard into a wall. Even in the dream, it hurts. I look up to see the livid, pissed-off face of Niklaus Mikaelson. The tattoo on his arm has progressed. I can see it peeking out from behind the material of his V-neck shirt, nearest towards his collar bone. He tips my chin up with one finger while his other hand pins me to the wall of a secluded hallway I've never seen before. "You...haven't been honest," Niklaus says to me in a voice that's nearly a seductive purr. Well, it would be if it weren't so bloody fucking terrifying. "You've been keeping a secret from me and Elijah..." The body I'm possessing is going crazy with panic and adrenaline. I can feel my (?) heart pounding. It's distracting me from focusing fully on Klaus & his paranoid rant. He seems to realize this, tightening his grip on me. His voice is a threatening snarl when he speaks now. "You think you can just run off to your little world any time you want, don't you?! I don't think you understand-" And to be real honest, I don't, because I immediately woke up in my CR before I let Klaus finish his rant. [Asleep]

[forever-rogue]

I absolutely adore the nurse Steve fics being in nursing school myself and idk if anyone else has asked about it but how did nurse Steve propose or was in Y/n that proposed

AN | Stevie definitely proposed to his girl. And he was absolutely a nervous wreck 🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to the below but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | None

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Steve, Main, Nurse Steve

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve felt like he was going to explode from nerves. He was so worried and nervous that he couldn’t even control the shaking of his hands. Everytime you came into the room he’d yelp in surprise; he was so on edge. 

Tomorrow was a special day; maybe the most special of his life - so far at least. Tomorrow was the day that Steve Harrington was going to ask you to marry him. 

Finally. He’d been wanting to do this for literal months, planning and rehearsing it over and over in his mind. But every time he got ready to propose, he talked himself out of it. Was it too much? Was it too soon? Did you even want to marry him?

So many questions - they would all be answered if he asked you that one little question. But he wanted this so badly. He knew he wanted to marry you after your first date - let’s be honest, Steve was a huge romantic - which seemed crazy but he was sure about you. He wasn’t sure there was anything he’d ever been more sure about.

“Stevie?” you poked your head into the kitchen, finding him standing at the counter and staring into his cup of coffee. You’d just come out of the shower, all wrapped up in nothing but a fluffy towel, hair still wet, and barefoot. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He snapped back into attention and offered you a sheepish smile, “what’s wrong, love?”

“N-nothing,” he stammered nervously, picking up his mug and almost sloshing the coffee over the side with trembling hands, “just…standing here…d-drinking coffee.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed softly as you padded over to him, standing behind him and wrapping your arm around his middle as you rested your chin on his shoulder. You felt him relax into your touch as you pressed soft kisses to his shoulder, “whatever you say. You’ve been awfully jumpy lately, are you sure everything’s okay?”

This time it was your turn to tense as you anticipated what he would say. Part of you was worried that he might break up with you. That would have been the worst thing ever…now that you had him, you couldn’t imagine life without him. He turned around so he was facing you, the gentle, fond smile on his face, “everything is perfect. Really, angel.”

“Are you going to break up with me?” you looked at him with wide, nervous eyes as his mouth dropped open. He blinked, almost as if he was trying to figure out if you were joking or not. He shook his head, cradling your face in his hands, “Steve?”

“No, no, no,” he kissed you sweetly on the cheeks, forehead, and nose before stopping at your lips, “never, angel. Absolutely not - why would you even think? Did I do something?”

You visibly relaxed and let out a small sigh of relief, “no, you didn’t. I dunno, I just…worried. ‘Cause you’ve been nervous lately, and I was wondering if it’s because you were going to break up with me?”

“That is the last thing I ever want to do,” he insisted sweetly, “I’m sorry that I did anything that made you feel like that. I’m just…tired?”

“Are you asking or telling me?” you joked, leaning into his touch as he wiped away the few tears that had welled up. 

“Telling you,” he insisted, although he still didn’t sound too sure. You’d caught him so off guard that he was frazzled with trying to come with an excuse that didn’t sound too fake or like he was actually going to break up with you. It was literally the exact opposite of that - he just couldn’t tell you quite yet, “promise.”

“You’re right,” she laughed lightly at your own worry, completely misplaced, “I’m just being silly. I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you too, angel,” he promised, his hand on your neck as he tenderly brushed his thumb over the apple of your cheek. It was becoming increasingly hard to resist the urge to rip your towel off and have you then and there. But he collected himself and tried to play it cool, “h-hey, we’re still on for dinner tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course,” you agreed happily, “why wouldn’t we be?”

“I-I dunno,” he shrugged. Alright. He was not making himself look good at all…now you were only going to be more suspicious if anything, “just wanted to make sure you didn’t forget.”

“I’d never forget a date night,” you grinned, “especially not when I was promised a fancy night out!”

“And that’s exactly what you’ll get,” he bit his bottom before gently pulling on your towel, “and if you’re not busy now…”

“I have to leave for work in half an hour….”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” he beamed and now it was your turn for your face to warm, “hmm?”

“O-okay,” you looked at him with eager eyes as he pulled the towel off completely, “Steve-”

“Bedroom,” he was already all over you, ushering you down the hall, “now.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You smiled at your reflection, admiring the pretty velvet dress that you were wearing. It was new and you’d purchased it just for the occasion, hoping that Steve would like it as well. You knew he would - you could be wearing a potato sack and he’d still think you looked beautiful. The finishing touch was your lipstick, a pretty shade of red that you often favored. 

“Honey, are you almost…” he trailed off as soon as he saw, his smile only growing as you turned around to face him. You wished you had a camera with you because the look on his face was priceless, “you look…stunning doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“Steve,” you bit the inside of your cheek as you looked him over. He looked so incredibly handsome in his suit that it was almost ridiculous, “you look amazing too.”

“Still nothing on you,” he tenderly brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, “this dress is beautiful. Is it new?”

“Mhmm,” you felt shy all of a sudden, like this was the first time you were meeting him again, “I got it for tonight! I was hoping you’d like it.”

“I do,” he brushed his fingers over the soft fabric on your shoulder, “I like the girl wearing it even more.”

“Stop,” you grinned, a teasing lilt to your voice as you reached for his hand and tenderly squeezed it between yours, “c’mon handsome, we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave now. I don’t wanna miss our reservations!”

“Baby-”

“Steve,” you put your hand on his chest, trying not to get too lost in his warmth and scent, and the way he was looking at you with hunger in his eyes, “we have to leave now or we’re just going to end up having sex.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s absolutely not,” you promised, “but we can do that all night, if we want, but we’re not missing these reservations. I didn’t get all dressed up for no reason!”

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands in mock surrender, “that’ll just give me the excuse of getting to show off my girl.”

And ask you to marry me, he almost blurted out. It would come soon enough - Steve Harrington was not going to chicken out today. Today was the day.

“Yeah?” you melted into his touch as he nodded, “well, that’ll let me show off my man. Now c’mon!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The restaurant might have been fancy, the food delicious, and the wine perfect, but Steve was too nervous to notice anything. The man could barely pay attention to what you were saying, almost blurting out his question and ruining the surprise he had planned. If you noticed that anything was off, you didn’t comment on it. 

“What do you think about that?” Steve blinked a few times before looking back at you with a sheepish expression. You gave him an expectant expression, wondering if he’d even heard a word of what you said, “Steve?”

“Hmm?” he snapped back into attention and cleared his throat before downing the rest of the wine. You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a serious expression on your face, “o-oh. Yeah, I think that’s a great idea.”

“Really?” you leaned in and decided that you might as well mess with him a little bit. He nodded, his shiny hair flopping slightly, “interesting. Well, that settles that.”

“S-settled what, exactly?”

“We’re gonna get married and have like five kids at least,” you said it all with such a straight face that he almost choked on the bite in his mouth. His cheeks turned a pretty bright red as you just stared at him down, “that’s what we both want, huh?”

“I-I-I, yeah…?”

“Relax,” you grinned softly at him and he grew even more confused, “Steve, I’m just kidding! That’s not what I said at all. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Which, I see, you were clearly not. What’s on your mind, love?”

“Nothing,” he insisted and you wanted to believe him. Not that you thought anything bad was going on, but you couldn’t deny that your curiosity was piqued, “just zoned out. It’s not you, angel. I just…long day.”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” your voice almost dropped to a whisper and he was quick to reach over and put his hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Of course I would,” he promised, his heart almost dropping into his stomach, “there’s nothing wrong, I swear it.”

“Okay,” you nodded. Steve had half a mind to just propose then and there. 

But not yet - the moment wasn’t quite there yet. He had this all mentally mapped out; he just needed you to hang on a little longer.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was setting, casting the horizon in a pretty haze of oranges and reds. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Your free hands were finishing off ice cream that you’d gotten from the same ice cream shop you’d gone to on your first date. 

“It’s beautiful out tonight,” you smiled sweetly, staring up at your boyfriend. He looked back at you with nothing but adoration in those caramel eyes. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. It was sweet and tasted like the chocolate ice cream he had been finishing off. 

“Still not as beautiful as you,” he cheesed back at you, as you playfully rolled your eyes, “you’re the prettiest sight in the world.”

“Alright Steve,” you dragged him towards the park, and you had unwittingly beaten him to it. He couldn’t have planned it any better himself…not it was just a matter of popping the question. The small velvet box was practically burning a hole in his pocket. You stopped in front of the bench where you’d shared your first kiss. You threw the wrapper from your cone away and turned to him, a saccharine smile on his face. 

He mirrored your action and the two of you stared at each other softly. He let out a wistful little sigh before taking your face gently in your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your cheek. You leaned into him and gently kissed him, letting your lips linger against his. You must have kissed him a million times by now, but it always felt so wonderful and knew each time.

“Angel, I…I have to say something before I lose the nerve,” your face dropped but he quickly shook his. He took your hands in his, before motioning for you to sit on the bench. You sat down and made room for him to sit next to you, but he didn’t. Your heart broke for a moment before you realized what he was doing. He got down on one knee in front of you and your mouth formed a small o in surprise.

“S-steve?” his name was a mere squeak as he reached for one of your hands, “what’re you…what’s going…Steve?”

“Listen,” you already felt tears welling up as he began to speak, “I think that this is going to be eloquent at all. I had those whole speech planned and now my mind feels empty but I’m just going to do it.”

“Stevie…”

“This is going to sound crazy but I’ve known you were the one for me since our first date,” he breathed nervously but there was a pretty smile on his face, “you almost killed me with that sundress, and how sweet you were, and that smile. God, you have the most beautiful smile. I know how we met wasn’t the most conventional and it feels weird to say it but I’m so glad you came into the ER that day.”

“I’m glad I broke my ankle,” you laughed softly, brushing away your tears with the back of your hand.

“I know it really wasn’t appropriate of me to ask you out,” he admitted, “but I’m glad I did. And now that I’ve had you had in my life, I can’t imagine my life without you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and have our own family and everything. I don’t know if this is too soon to ask, and honestly I don’t really care. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And I guess, angel, I just want to know…will you marry me?”

“I…” you were trying to keep it together. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box, popping it open to reveal the prettiest ring you had ever seen. Your breath caught in your throat and you couldn’t help but throw your arms around him as you hugged him tightly, “oh, my love. Yes - yes. Of course I’ll marry you. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Really?” he sounded so genuinely surprised that it caused you to laugh softly as you nodded at him. He kissed you, a messy, sloppy little kiss of pure joy, “that’s amazing. I-I can’t wait to marry you either. You make me so happy, clumsy girl.”

“Stop,” you watched in awe as he slid the ring onto your finger. You admired it for a second, and even though it was beautiful and you loved it, you loved nothing more than the man in front of you, “you’re going to make me cry even more. Steve, this past year with you has been better than anything. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Beautiful,” he kissed your newly ringed finger before kissing your lips, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Steve,” you put your hand on his neck, leaning in to press your forehead against his, “is this what’s made you so nervous, love?”

“Yes,” he admitted sheepishly, “when you asked if I was breaking up with you, I almost gave it up. I had the exact opposite on my mind. I never want to break up with you, angel. All I want to do is spend forever with you.”

“Forever sounds good,” you agreed, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“How long have you been planning this?” he laughed nervously, his face growing warm, “you can tell me anything.”

“A long time,” he sighed softly as you beamed at him, “pretty much from that first night. Is that crazy to admit?”

“Nope,” you took his hand in yours and held it tightly, “I’ve known since then too. When you know, you know.”

“I can’t wait to call you my wife.”

“I can’t wait to call you my husband,” this all felt like a dream; a beautiful, wonderful dream. But his warm, gentle touch told you that it was all very real, “I love you.”

“I love you, angel. Forever.”

“Forever.”