#in a bunch of different ways just checking how I do it

[feelingsdumpcaptain]

her heart isn't gone

A/N: this is literally just a bunch of drabbles put into one post :') and yes, maybe i was listening to his car isn't yours on repeat as i worked on this. i haven't written in awhile so i'm a little rusty but i can't keep editing this so sorry for any inconsistencies.

Words: 8.6k (haha whoops!)

Emily briskly makes her way toward the cafe near the hotel, hoping to get a chance at a pastry. She could feel the sun warming her back and she regrets the blazer thrown over her longsleeve. It was peak summer and the team arrived in Carmel late last night so the heat hadn’t set in yet. Now that she feels the heat early this morning, she wonders how much warmer it can get.

She tugs on the cafe door, the smell of freshly baked goods surrounding her. Her mouth waters and her stomach rumbles as she considers the different options.

Lemon blueberry muffin, almond croissant, cheese strudel, banana bread…

She decides on the lemon blueberry muffin but just as she’s about to ask for it, she watches as they take the last one and place it into a bag. Her eyes follow, seeing them hand it over to a woman at the register and sighs. 

Emily makes her way to the front and glances at the coffee menu. “Hi, one salted cream vanilla latte and an almond croissant, please.” 

Once she pays, she steps off to the side and pulls out her phone to check for any messages. 

JJ (5:53 AM): Is anyone up for a run? Morgan (6:03 AM):  Sorry, some of us have already finished our workout ;) Garcia (8:48 AM): Do you people ever sleep???

Emily huffs a small laugh. She goes to reply but hears her name called for her order and puts her phone away. She grabs her drink and croissant and goes to throw a ‘thanks!’ over her shoulder as she heads out. As excited as she is about her drink, it’s short-lived when she feels herself bump into someone else. She only loses her breath from the impact but the coffee in her hand falls from her grip and spills.

She glances down and her eyes meet yours, the one who took the last lemon blueberry muffin. Emily can admit she finds you pretty, even with the dazed look on your face as you look up at Emily. She can feel the heat rush to her face when she realizes she’s just been staring and offers her hand to help you up. 

“Are you alright?” Emily asks, giving a gentle tug. Her eyes scan your clothes. “Did the coffee spill on you?”

You shake your head, cheeks going pink. “I’m okay, thank you. No coffee stains either.”

Emily’s chest flutters at the flush on your cheeks, keeping her smile small. “As long as you’re not hurt.”

You wave your hand. “Really, I’m okay. Just embarrassed. Here.” You hold out the white paper bag, and Emily realizes it’s the muffin she wanted.

“Oh, no. I can’t.”

“I insist! Please. You spilled your coffee. Or I could buy you another?”

Emily glances at her watch and winces. “I don’t think I have enough time to wait for another one. It’s okay.”

You push the bag into Emily’s free hand. “Take it. It’s delicious. They’re known for these muffins here.” 

“Oh, okay. Thank you, then. I’m still really sorry about bumping into you. I guess I wasn’t paying much attention.” 

“No worries. I could say the same for myself.” You rub the back of your neck. “I’m kinda known for being clumsy around town. Anyway, I better go before I embarrass myself even more. If you see me here again, let me know and I’ll buy you your coffee!” You give Emily a small wave and head out. 

*

Emily leans back in her seat, glancing out of the cafe window. She arrived earlier than expected, and the cafe was still quiet. She was able to grab two of the lemon blueberry muffins right as they came out of the oven, two resting on the table. She could feel the chill in the air, but her iced latte probably didn’t help.

She hears the bell over the door ring, her eyes glancing over. Her eyes meet yours, a small smile on her lips.

“You’re here early.” You sit across from her and reach for one of the muffins.

“More like late night. I haven’t exactly slept yet, but I didn’t want to risk sleeping through the morning.”

You grin and bat your eyelashes. “Aw, you didn’t want to miss our morning munchies?”

Emily lets out a huff. “Please don’t call it that.”

“But that’s what we do.” You take a bite of the muffin, glancing at the iced coffee Emily held onto. “Is that your salted cream latte?”

Emily’s eyes narrow, pulling the drink a bit closer to her. “Maybe. Why?”

Your eyes go wide and your lips pull into a small pout. “Can I have a sip?”

“What? Why? You don’t even like the cream on top! You’ve tried this latte multiple times and each time, you say you don’t like it.” 

“What if I change my mind this time?”

Emily laughs. “You won’t.”

*

“Are you following me?”

Emily rolls her eyes. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I live here so I should be asking you that question.” You bump your shoulder into Emily, a smile on your face. “Who told you about my secret getaway?”

Emily laughs. “Secret getaway? It’s the beach.”

“Yeah, but this spot in particular. It’s away from the main boardwalk and it’s hidden.” 

Emily grins, leaning into you. “I have my ways.”

“Uh-huh. So you are stalking me.”

“Stalking? Please, you flatter yourself.”

You let out a small laugh, enjoying the warmth from Emily’s body. “I’m surprised you’re not working. How did you get a Saturday night off?”

“Told ‘em I had a hot date.”

*

“Hey, I wanted to tell you something.” Emily rubs at the inside of her wrist, just below her watch. She tries to look at you but can’t bring herself to, focusing on the empty plate between them. 

“What’s up?” You wipe at the table with a napkin, gathering the crumbs into a single spot.

“Well, we caught the guy last night so I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Oh.” You pause and look at Emily. “How soon?”

“Two hours?” Emily winces at the look on your face. “I’m sorry. We’re very… we move around, and fast.”

You can only nod.

“It’s not like I haven’t been enjoying our… us. I just can’t stay.”

“No, I understand. I mean, I knew that from the start. I just wasn’t expecting you to leave so fast after you caught him. I thought you might get like, a day or two off.”

“As nice as that sounds, that rarely happens. You know what they say.”

“...What?”

Emily sits up straight and clears her throat, her voice lowering. “Crime never sleeps.”

You groan. “Ew, don’t ever say that again, please.”

*

“Hey, are you up for drinks tonight?” 

Emily glances up from her computer screen, finding JJ leaning against her desk.

“Ah, not tonight. I’ve… got plans.” Emily hopes JJ doesn’t push but this is the third time she’s missed out on drinks with the team. “Next time?”

JJ’s eyes narrow, staring at Emily.

“Stop trying to profile me.”

“Only if you tell me why you haven’t been out with us for the past three Friday nights. The first time, fine, we get it. The second time, it’s a little suspicious. But the third time? You are not getting out of it without an explanation. I will tell Garcia on you.”

Emily huffs, leaning back into her chair. “I have plans.” She holds a finger up. “That I cannot cancel or reschedule.”

“Uh-huh. And does it, by any chance, have anything to do with a certain woman from a certain beach town we may have been in recently?” JJ’s smirking now, arms crossed. “And it wouldn’t be because she’s been visiting every weekend since then, would it?”

Emily only gapes at her. “How— who told you that? How do you even know about her?”

JJ shrugs. “I went on a run every morning there that no one ever showed up for. I ran through the whole town eventually and may have seen you at the same cafe around the same time with the same woman.”

“If you know, then why are you asking?”

“I didn’t but you just confirmed it for me.” JJ taps her desk with her knuckles before heading out. “Well, maybe next week you’ll bring her along. Goodnight, Emily!”

Emily only groans, dropping her head into her hands.

*

You step out onto the sidewalk, waving to the doorman. It was almost 8 and Emily was on her way. Your heart flutters in anticipation and you rock back and forth on your feet as you wait. 

The sight of headlights coming down the street catches your attention, and you follow with your eyes as it approaches. You recognize the Jeep and get in, eyes meeting Emily’s. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, hand brushing against the one resting the gear shift.

Emily gives you a small kiss on the edge of your lips, letting out a quiet hello before leaning back into her seat. “Ready?” 

Your seatbelt clicks into place. “Uh-huh. Where are we going on this exhilarating Friday night?”

“Exhilarating? I was thinking of taking you to my place to crochet.”

“Emily.” 

“What? You don’t want to spend quality time with me? Not to mention Sergio is just dying to meet you.” She pulls away from the curb, eyes focused.

“Oh, are you ready to introduce me to your family?” You tease, leaning close enough for her to feel your breath on her cheek. “Are we taking that next step so soon? You haven’t even taken me to bed yet.”

Emily’s hand immediately falls onto your thigh, her grip tight. “Don’t start.” She hesitates, before coming to a stop in a parking lot. “But… what do you think about it?” 

You abruptly pull away from her, eyebrows raised. “What do I think about meeting your family? Emily, we haven’t even… it’s only been–”

“No! No, I don’t mean my family. Well, I mean I do but I don’t mean my parents. I meant more like my team.” Emily grabs your hand, pulling it close to her lips. “I haven’t told them anything but they have their suspicions.”

“God, Em, don’t scare me like that.” You let out a shuddered breath, closing your eyes. “Why do you want me to meet them suddenly?”

“Just… it would be nice, I think, if I could spend time with the people I care most altogether?” She glances at you, eyes wide.

“Oh, you’re good.” 

*

You felt a paw lightly pat your face, the fur tickling your nose.

“Sergio, please. Five more minutes,” you groan. You turn over in bed, trying to bury your face in the pillow that still smells like Emily’s shampoo.

You hear a laugh from the other side of the room. “You should know better than that.”

“He’s your son, why isn’t he bothering you instead?”

“Because he knows that I have to get ready for work.” You hear Emily shuffling in her closet. “Hey, have you seen that blue button-up of mine, by chance?”

You pause, looking down at your body wearing that exact button-up. You pull the blanket up higher. “Uh, no, I haven’t. Might be in the dirty laundry pile? I can start it today while you’re at work.” 

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She grunts, putting her shoes on. “Also, what do you think we should have for dinner?”

“Whatever you want, babe.” You sigh, realizing sleep is no longer coming. 

Emily chuckles, sitting next to you. “I’ll see you later, okay? It’s supposed to be quick.” She presses a kiss onto your forehead. “And maybe we can…” 

You smack her with her pillow. “Let you in my pants one time and now it’s all you think about. Get outta here.”

She laughs, resting her body on top of yours. 

“Em! Please, I can’t breathe.” You push at her shoulders, laughing.

“You seem to be breathing just fine.” She relaxes her body even more, letting her full weight rest on you. “And I’ll have you know that you seduced me!”

“That’s not true! You’re the one who wined and dined me, showing off your fancy wine knowledge and your fancy French.”

“Fancy French?” Emily chuckles, rolling her eyes. “It’s just French, babe.”

She pushes herself up, adjusting her shirt before her eyes land on you. “Hey, that’s my shirt!”

“Oops?”

“You’re lucky I think you’re so cute.”

*

It starts with a small itch on your cheek during dinner that you brushed off. As you lean back into your seat as Emily drives, eyes drooping, you think it might be a stray hair tickling your face. Emily’s talking about possibly going out for drinks tomorrow night with her team but you’ve started to rub at your eyes. 

“Hey, you okay?” Emily’s brows furrow, watching you unable to keep your hands from your face. 

“I’m okay, my face just feels a little funny.” The skin of your face actually feels so tight, especially when you try to smile. “Hey, Em…”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Was there, by any chance, Thai eggplant in any of our dishes tonight?”

“I think the curry did. Why?” 

You huff out a laugh. “Oh no.” 

“Oh no, what? Should I be taking you to the ER?” Her voice is rising in pitch, eyes darting to try and think of the nearest ER. “Baby, you’re allergic? Why didn’t you tell me before? Oh God, do you need me to grab an EpiPen? Do you even have one?”

“Relax, Emily, I’m fine, and no need for an EpiPen. I’ll be okay, it’ll go away on its own. I’ll pop a Claritin and I should be okay.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re allergic? Are you allergic to anything else?” Emily’s biting onto her lower lip, eyes glancing over to you every few minutes. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to the ER?”

“I’m sure, but thank you for caring. And no, as far as I’m aware, I’m not allergic to anything else. I do try to stay away from fava beans though. Not allergic but it does make me feel nauseous.”

“Fava beans? What the hell are those?”

“It’s usually in like hummus and falafel, but I think you can make them into a dish itself? Not sure, but again, I stay away from it in general.”

“So hummus and falafel are banned from my house, got it.” 

“Emily, don’t be ridiculous. You can have those in your house, they’re not going to kill me.” You pat her thigh. “Thank you for your concern though.”

“What if you accidentally eat it?”

“Emily,” you chuckle. “What’s the hummus going to do, open its container, scoop itself onto a spoon, and force its way into my hand?”

*

You spin yourself around in Emily’s chair, staring at the ceiling and wondering what movie to watch tonight. It’d been a long day for you, your flight being delayed stranding you at the airport for a few hours. By the time your plane landed, it was late, and there weren’t many cabs around. It felt like every part of your trip was a challenge, and you were just glad to finally be near Emily.

You glance at the meeting room she’s in and can only wonder what she’s discussing with Hotch that has her looking so troubled. 

“Oh, Y/N, you’re here! How was the flight?” Penelope leans against Emily’s desk. “I saw it was delayed.”

“You saw?” You shake your head. “Wait, don’t answer that.”

Penelope grins, sending you a wink. “You should know better.”

“The flight was okay, definitely felt longer than usual. Then when I get here, there’s like no cabs at the airport. Which, fine, I get it, it’s late but seriously? And then when I try to get an Uber, the price is like triple the usual rate!” You roll your eyes, leaning back in the chair. “I should’ve just rented a car.”

“Well, at least you made it. Are we seeing you at all this weekend or is Emily hogging you for the whole time?” 

“Ah, well, I guess that’s up to Emily. I’m up for a girl’s night this weekend.” You tap at your chin. “There is a cocktail lounge I’ve been wanting to try but I think they’re only accepting reservations.” 

“Hm, interesting. I’m not making any promises but I’m gonna try and work some magic and see if I can get us on the list.” Penelope wiggles her eyebrows. “All you have to do is convince your big, bad girlfriend to say yes to sharing you.” 

“Not a chance, Garcia.” Emily’s standing behind her, arms crossed. 

“Aw, but Emily! We haven’t seen Y/N in so long and you always keep her to yourself every weekend.” 

“Yeah, Emily, stop hogging me,” you tease, leaning forward onto her desk.

She throws her hands up. “Fine, we can do a girl's night. Pick a place and time, Pen, but tonight, we’re busy.” Emily tugs at your arm, pulling you to the exit.

“Goodnight, Penelope! Let me know about the cocktail lounge!” You wave, happy to be dragged away.

Once you get into Emily’s car, you can’t help but look at her and grin. “You don’t have to be so jealous, you know.”

She scoffs. “Jealous? Why would I be jealous? You’re not secretly dating Penelope or JJ.” She pauses. “Are you?”

“I don’t know, am I?” 

Emily pinches your cheek. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“You love that about me.” You freeze, heat rushing to your face and the tips of your ears going pink. “Emily, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking–”

“I do. Love you, I mean. Granted, I didn’t think this was when I would tell you this. Maybe at a nice dinner or home but… I do.” 

“Home?” You stare at her, heart stuttering. “You love me?”

“So much,” Emily breathes out. 

You can only smile, reaching out to stroke her cheek. “You’re something else, Emily Prentiss, but I love you too.”

*

“So… what are your thoughts on being neighbors?” You focus on the book in your hands, refusing to look at Emily beside you on the couch.

“Excuse me?” She lays her book down and turns to face you. “Neighbors?”

You hesitate before looking at her. “My contract in Carmel is ending and I’ve been offered an analyst position with the city. Here. I haven’t accepted yet because I wanted to talk to you about it first.”

She frowns, grabbing your hand. “Y/N… if it’s a great opportunity, you should take it regardless of my opinion.”

“I know but I don’t want to make it seem like I’m… being pushy? Or rushing you? It’s one thing to date someone long distance, it’s another to be in the same city.”

“Shouldn’t I be happy that I get to see you more often than just weekends?” She tilts her head. “Not only that, but if you don’t accept this position, doesn’t that mean you won’t have a job?”

“That’s not my point, Em. I just mean that maybe you might feel… suffocated. With me, here. Yes, we love each other but–”

“No buts.” She presses her finger against your lips. “But I’m hurt that you’re planning to be my neighbor.”

“What do you mean? You want me to live on the other side of town or something?” You grab her hand and move it to your lap. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No, I mean, why wouldn’t you just be my roommate?”

You splutter. “Excuse me? You want me to move in?”

“Well, it’d make sense, wouldn’t it? If you got a place, we’d just be going back and forth between the two. Not to mention paying an unnecessarily ridiculous price for a place.” Emily begins to list the reasons on her fingers. “We have dinner together every night you’re here, you currently don’t have a car, this house is decently close to the city office, and I have the room for you. Obviously.” She leans back against the couch, letting out a relaxed sigh, and closes her eyes. “Any other concerns?”

You can only gape at her, at a loss for words.

“Now the real question is this: how much are they offering you to take the job with the city?” She opens her eyes to look at you. “Baby?”

You shake your head. “Their initial offer is for $175,000.”

“Christ, for maps?!”

“Hey! You use maps at your job all the time so you’re welcome. And I said it’s their initial offer. I’d technically be considered a senior analyst, so it’s closer to $200,000.” 

Emily’s eyes roll back. “God, keep talking dirty to me.”

“Em!” You tug at her ear gently. “You’re so annoying.”

*

You can barely hear the knock over the music you have playing, but you’ve been expecting it. Swinging the door open, you find JJ and Henry standing with bags over their shoulders.

“Ah, my royal guests have arrived for the night.” You step aside to let them in, locking the door behind them. “Are we hungry yet?”

JJ groans. “Please tell me you made what I think you made.”

You turn the volume down on the sound system low enough to not have to yell. “That depends. What are you hoping I made?”

Henry wraps himself around your legs. “Pasta chicken, please.”

You gasp. “How did you know I made pesto chicken? Do you have superpowers?” You look up at JJ. “You can put your stuff in the guest room if you’d like. Or we can set up in the living room?”

“No, the guest room is great. I’ll be right back.” She grabs Henry’s bag from the floor and heads down the hallway.

“Alright, my dude, let’s check on the food. And I made brownies for dessert.” You guide Henry toward the kitchen, stomach grumbling. “Emily also better get her butt here sooner than later, or else.”

“Or else what?” 

You jump, hand flying to your chest. “JJ, please, not everyone is an FBI agent!” 

She lets out a laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Habit, I guess. Did you need any help?”

You wave her off. “Nah, I got it. I have drinks in the fridge if you want some. There’s beer, wine, soda, and j-u-i-c-e.”

“Sounds good. Want me to grab you anything?” JJ tugs the fridge open, pursing her lips. “How’s the wine?”

“Don’t know, it’s Emily’s.” You let out a small laugh. “Feel free to open it.”

She shakes her head, pulling the bottle of wine out and a juice for Henry. “Her loss, I guess.”

“Whose loss?”

You both jump this time. “Christ, Emily!” You rub your temples. “I’m not going to survive like this. I feel like my heart’s restarted so many times since moving in.”

“Well, maybe if you listened to me about the music volume, you wouldn’t be so jumpy.” She tugs you close. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.”

You roll your eyes. “You know how I feel about music.”

“You have it on so you don’t feel lonely when you’re home alone,” Emily and JJ both recite. 

“Wow.” You scoff. “I don’t say it that often!”

JJ leans down to hand Henry his juice, wiping the condensation on her pants. “You don’t have to. It’s always on when we come over.”

“And it’s always on when I come home from work.”

“Well, it’s better than just sitting here in silence by myself.”  

Emily smiles, heading to the fridge. “I know you don’t like when it’s too quiet. It’s okay.”

*

Emily’s chin drops down to her chest and lets out a heavy sigh. She was late, much later than she told you. She rubs at the ridges of her house key feeling like a stone sat in her stomach. Things have been somewhat tense the past few weeks and she knows she hasn’t made it better. This is the fifth Friday night she’s missed, and it doesn’t help that it was your anniversary tomorrow. 

She’d promised you she’d be home early but the team caught a case right after lunch. She tried to keep you updated throughout the day but by the time it hit midnight, you stopped replying. Emily pushes her way in, instantly rearming the alarm. Setting her bags down on the small side table, she heads further in, ears straining to hear for any movement.

She notes the lack of music and wonders how long it’s been off. By the time she makes it to the bedroom, she’s shed her shoes and blazer. Emily sighs once more when she sees you asleep in bed, Sergio curled onto the pillow beside you. 

She makes her way to the closet, shuffling through to grab some pajamas. She can shower tomorrow morning, and maybe she can make it up to you and have you join her.

“When did you get in?”

Emily’s heart jumps as she turns to look at the bed. You’re still curled beneath the blankets but your eyes are staring straight at her.

“I’m just getting in,” she breathes out. Emily pulls her button-up and bra off, exchanging them for a large t-shirt. “Did I wake you?”

“No, Sergio did.” You glance over to the cat that’s now made himself comfortable halfway onto your forehead. “Everything at work okay?”

“Yeah, just got unlucky. We caught a case right after lunch.” She tugs her slacks off and settles into bed beside you. “Didn’t make much progress either, but the amount of bodies we kept finding were… a lot.”

You let out a quiet hum. “Make a profile yet?”

Emily shakes her head, rolling over to face you. “No, not yet. We’re missing something but we just haven’t found it yet.” She stares at you, hesitating just a bit. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

“It’s okay, Em, it’s work.” 

“It’s not though. This isn’t the first one I’ve missed, and I’m sorry. I know it might feel like I’m not trying but I promise that I am.” She reaches for your waist, pulling you close. “And I don’t want you to think that I’m avoiding you or anything like that.” 

“Emily, I mean it. I know how your job works. I’m not mad at you. Am I a little sad and disappointed? Anyone would be, but I’m not going to hold something like this over you. That’s like if you held a grudge against me every time I lose track of time when I’m working.” You tuck your face into her neck, breathing her in. “Just glad you’re okay.”

She squeezes you tight, letting her body relax. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh yeah? What’d you have in mind?”

“I don’t know yet but I’ll figure it out. Maybe…” Emily bites her lip, thinking. “Maybe after the case though?”

“Of course, babe. I wouldn’t expect anything else.” You try to hold in your yawn, but Emily can feel it against her skin. 

“Go to bed. I’ll wake you up before I leave tomorrow.”

“Mm, tell me about your case. Not too many details though.”

Emily smiles, letting her eyes close. “You don’t wanna hear about what they did to the bodies and where we found them?”

You shudder. “God, no. Just wanna hear your voice.”

*

“Emily, hey. I’m glad you answered.” You stuff as many shirts as you can into the small luggage, holding your cell phone between your ear and shoulder. “Listen, something’s come up and I’m on my way to the airport.”

Emily ducks into an empty conference room, leaning against the door. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you want me to meet you at the airport?”

“No, that’s not necessary. My mom called me and– it’s nothing. Not anything bad but I just have to help her sort some stuff out.” You zipped the luggage up, doing a quick scan to make sure the windows were shut and Sergio’s water bowl was filled.

“You sure I can’t do anything?” Emily turns to look out the window, unaware that she’s started to bite the nail of her thumb. “We don’t have any pressing cases right now, I can meet you–”

“It’s okay, I promise. Stay.” You set the alarm and lock the door behind you. “Just… it’s my brother. He’s always had a tough time once he finished high school. He’s been doing good, but my mom is worried. I just need to see what’s happening and have it sorted. I should be back in a few days.”

“Y/N–”

“I’m sorry, Em, my mom’s calling. I’ll call you when I get there, okay?”

Emily sighs when the call disconnects, shoulders slumping. It’s been a good few weeks since your anniversary and things have been getting better, but it just feels like something’s been off. She makes her way back to her desk and opens a new window on her computer. 

This is wrong. You shouldn’t be looking him up. If she wanted you to know about him, she’d have told you by now. It can’t be that bad.

Emily groans, closing the window. 

“What’s wrong, my dark fairy?” Penelope perches herself on the edge of Emily’s desk. “Trouble in paradise? Don’t tell me Y/N’s still mad at you. Haven’t you been taking any of my advice? Groveling, presents, and ravishing her every chance you get?”

“Penelope, please, not so loud.” Emily shakes her head. “It’s not that. She said she had to fly home to handle some stuff that’s come up and she mentioned her brother. I don’t really know much about him and I was gonna…” Emily wiggles her fingers and points to the computer. “But I can’t bring myself to do it. That’s– I shouldn’t do that, right? It’s wrong?”

“Oh-ho-ho. The good ol’ dilemma of wanting to find out what’s going on vs. not betraying someone’s trust.” Penelope leans in, lowering her voice. “As a hacker, I say do it. As a friend…”

“As a friend, don’t?” 

Penelope darts her eyes to the computer. “I’d still do it, especially if I think it’s for someone’s safety or well-being!”

“Pen!” Emily drops her face into her hands. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Want me to?” 

Emily thinks about it for a few minutes, worrying what your reaction might be. “Just… If you do it and you don’t find anything pressing, don’t tell me that you did it. But if it’s something bad, then tell me. I need to know if I need to be there too.” 

“You got it, goth queen.”

*

“Happy birthday, Emily!” You lift Sergio from the floor and press his face against her cheek. “Welcome home. I hope you’re ready to celebrate.”

Emily smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of Sergio’s head. “If that means relaxing on the couch with my two favorites, then I’m so ready.”

“Not just that but I also have some extra surprises in store for you.” You set Sergio into her arms and give her a quick peck. “I just need to grab them. You go get comfy and I’ll meet you in the living room?”

“It’s a date.” Emily watches you head to her office, shaking her head in disbelief. “Can’t believe that’s where she’s kept them hidden and I didn’t even think to look in there, Serg.” 

Emily places Sergio onto her bed as she goes to change into pajamas. She glances at the box at the top of her closet, wondering if today would be the day. 

“Em? You almost done?”

She lets out a breath, shaking her head. Not today. “Yeah, I’m just about finished. Be there in a sec.” 

Lowering herself down to her knees beside the bed, she brings her face close to the cat and lowers her voice. “Listen here, buddy. I’m going to need you to put in some work and be extra cute and irresistible. I’m going to need all the help I can get.” He only stares and blinks at her. 

“Oh my god, I’m losing it,” Emily mumbles, scooping Sergio back into her arms to head back to the living room. Her eyes widen when she sees the gifts on the small table. “Uh, Y/N? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “That’s rich, coming from the woman who paid for a month-long trip for my birthday and didn’t let me chip in. We also flew first class, Em, first class.”

She scoffs, plopping down onto the couch. “That trust fund isn’t gonna use itself, so what better way than to spend it on you?”

You push her shoulder, settling in beside her. “I could say the same for myself, minus the trust fund. Do you wanna open gifts first or later?”

“Mm, later. I just wanna lay here with you.” 

“Any movie suggestions?”

“You pick.” She buries her face into your neck, closing her eyes. “It’s been a long day so nothing too heavy or intense, please.”

“Taxi?”

“Again?” 

“You said I could pick!” You poke at her side, scrolling through movies. “Do you wanna do a TV show instead?”

Emily only mumbles.

“Ah, yes. Thank you for that detailed and clear answer. That narrows down my search immensely. I have a top 3 for selection.”

“Stop being a smartass.”

You laugh, selecting Taxi anyway. The movie starts and as you both sit there, you can feel Emily’s body going lax. “Happy birthday, Emily,” you whisper. 

*

“No, Emily, absolutely not. You can’t drive like this!” You argue, holding her car keys close to your chest. “Hotch said you can take the rest of the week off, so why don’t you?”

Emily only gives you a look. 

“Uhg, I know. Can’t you just, I don’t know, get a ride from someone? I can call JJ and she can swing by?”

“I’m already up later than usual, Y/N. It’s 10. The day’s already started for the team a long time ago.”

You bite your lip, glancing at your computer. You don’t have any pressing deadlines coming up so you could technically take an early day. The real dilemma is getting Emily to agree.

“I’ll make a deal with you.” You straighten your shoulders and clear your throat. “And if you don’t agree, you’re going to have to think of another way to get to work.”

“I’m listening.”

“You let me drive you to work. I can take you now and pick you up later.”

Silence.

You can feel the heat spreading on your cheeks as you wait for Emily to say something, anything. “Em?”

“Nobody drives my Jeep but me.”

“Emily Prentiss, you literally got shot yesterday. If you think for one second I’m going to let you drive with an injury, you are out of your mind.”

She grits her teeth. “Y/N…”

“Emily.” You stare at her head-on. “If you love me as much as you say you do, you’ll let me do this for you.”

She dips her head, closing her eyes. “Fine, you can drive my Jeep but if you get a scratch on her, I’m putting my cold feet on you for a month!” Emily turns around with a huff, going to grab her work bag. 

*

You can’t help but admire the new ring that sits on your finger as you sit at your computer. It’s been two hours since you clocked in but you can’t concentrate. The butterflies in your stomach haven’t gone away since you woke up and Emily smiled at you. Biting your lip, you try and focus on the map in front of you. 

Your phone buzzes on the desk and you sigh. 

Emily ❣️(9:53 AM): Get to work.

You startle, looking around the office and debating on whether you should turn the music down or not. There’s no way she’d have cameras set up without telling you, would she?

You (9:55 AM): I don’t know what you mean 🙂 Emily ❣️ (9:59 AM): I know you. Now get to work. We can celebrate again when I get home 😜

You can feel the tips of your ears go pink, locking your phone and setting it face down on the desk. Instead of getting back to work, you open a new browsing window instead and immediately search for rings. You’ve yet to find one that would fit Emily, and it’s starting to feel like you’re going to have to make a custom piece. 

Your phone buzzes against the desk, causing you to jump. There’s no way you were getting anything done today. 

*

When you swing the door open to a red-eyed JJ, your stomach drops. The way she’s looking at you is something you’ve never wanted to experience. 

“JJ… don’t.” You shake your head, the ring on your finger feeling so, so heavy.

She takes in a deep breath, her voice shaky. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. She– they said she didn’t make it off the table.”

The only thing you can hear is the music you’ve been playing all day and the sound of your breathing. JJ is speaking to you, hands moving, but it’s like no words are coming out. You can’t process anything she’s saying and you can only stare into her eyes. 

JJ would never lie to you and she would never put you through this if she knew there wasn’t a possibility of Emily surviving. She’s guiding you back inside, her face tight. 

“Y/N?”

You look at her, finally taking her in. The tip of her nose was pink, her ponytail was a mess, and her shirt was rumpled.

“Sorry, could you repeat that? I’m–” You’re at a loss for words, uncertain. 

“I asked if you wanted to stay with me.” JJ grabs onto your hands, her eyes roaming your face. “You don’t have to be alone tonight, or any night. I’m sure Henry would love to have you and Sergio over.” 

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. You don’t need to take care of one more person.” 

“Y/N, it’s okay, really.” JJ glances around, wincing. “I think it would be best. At least for one night? And then we can go from there, okay? If not for you, then for me.”

You sigh, nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay. You stay right here. I’ll grab you a few things and then we can go, okay?”

As JJ makes her way into the bedroom, her eyes water. This is not how she wanted to find out the two of you got engaged over the weekend. Taking a deep breath, JJ is quick to grab a change of clothes and Sergio. She finds you still sitting on the couch, the music turned off. 

“Come on, let’s head out.” She squeezes your shoulder before handing you Sergio. 

You slowly stand, looking down at the black cat, realizing that he won’t understand why Emily will no longer be coming around. You take in a breath and blink back the tears as you move to turn the alarm on. “Are you sure, JJ? I can stay, really. I’m sure you’d like to be alone too–”

“I want you to come, Y/N. Please. I’d like to keep you close tonight.” JJ frowns, the indecision clear on her face. “I can’t tell you everything yet, but once things are settled, I promise I will. I just need to make sure you’re safe.”

The drive to JJ’s is a blur. It felt like it went by in the blink of an eye but at the same time, it felt like hours. As you both make your way to the front door, it feels like you’ve been awake for hours. Wasn’t it just this morning that you were making plans with Emily for Friday? You have a dentist appointment tomorrow, your mom wanted you to call her back, and there’s a deadline coming up– 

Your head throbs.

JJ pushes the door open, the lights off and the house is silent. “Well, looks like everyone’s asleep. Here.” She guides you to the guest room you frequented every girl’s night, not bothering to turn the light on. 

As you sit, you look at her once more. “JJ…”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” She presses a kiss to your forehead. “Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll figure things out, okay? And if you need me for anything, don’t hesitate to wake me.”

All you can do is nod as you lay down, tugging the blanket over you. “This is real, isn’t it, JJ?”

She pauses at the doorway. “Yeah, Y/N, it’s real.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “And she’s not coming back.”

“No,” she whispers.

You can feel the adrenaline and nerves finally hit, and somehow your eyes close.

* 

“I don’t know how that makes me feel! Isn’t that why I’m here?” You raise your eyes to Dr. Crane, the psychologist that JJ has been forcing you to go to. “I told you from the start that I didn’t think that this would help.”

Dr. Crane leans forward, setting her notebook aside. “Y/N, in the past two months, do you want to know what I’ve noticed about you?”

You throw your hands up, defeated. “Sure, why not?”

“You insist that being here wouldn’t help you but you come to every appointment. That’s three times a week, by the way. You start the session calmly, and as the questions progress, so does your anger.” She taps her desk with her pen. “Not only that, but you’ve been unable to say Emily’s name once in any session, you refuse to answer questions you don’t like the answer to, and you frequently try to change the subject when I ask about your engagement.”

You wince, glancing at the ring on your finger. “Not much to talk about. It didn’t last very long.” 

Oh, that one hurt. 

“Look, people grieve differently, right? This is how I’m doing it.” 

“And do you think that’s healthy? Being unable to say a name? Wearing a ring that you seem to resent whenever you talk about it?” You can feel yourself clenching your jaw as you look at your hands. “Are we finished for today?” You don’t wait for an answer, but stand and grab your things. 

“Y/N, a loss is something so many people experience but very little know how to process. If you continue this way, how long do you think you’ll last before you’re forced to confront it?”

You say nothing as you storm out of the office, the frustration building. JJ stands from the waiting room, a frown on her face as she sees your haste to leave. She looks back toward the office before following you with a sigh. 

“Y/N, you said you’d try–”

“This is me trying, JJ! I’m just– I’m not ready.” You stand on the sidewalk, staring at her. “I’m not ready to accept she’s gone. Every day I wake up, thinking that I had a bad dream. I look down at my finger and I see this ring and I wonder how much longer it’ll be until I can take it off without feeling like I’m trying to forget her.” 

JJ shakes her head, hand reaching for you. “We can find you another psychologist if you want. If you think Dr. Crane isn’t helping, then we can–”

You shake your head, taking a few steps back. “No, I know. I just– I need to be alone for a little while, okay? You’ve done a lot for me these past few weeks, JJ, and I appreciate that but I just need to think.”

“Let me drop you off, then. Where are you going?” 

“No, it’s fine. I can walk. Please, JJ. Just let me be alone for a little while. I promise I’ll be okay. I’ll call you?” You take a few more steps back before turning away.

“Y/N! You call me if you need a ride, okay?” 

You throw your hand up in acknowledgment as you briskly walk away from JJ, your head pounding. 

*

They’re everywhere. No matter where you are or what you’re doing, it’s like they follow you all day long. You know it’s not true, but that’s what it feels like. Just how many people actually drive Jeeps? Maybe you’ll look at some data later.

It’s like the car itself was following you, trying to force you to acknowledge it. None of them are her’s though. That one’s sitting in the parking garage, untouched. Over the past few months, you’ve thought about selling it but can’t bring yourself to actually do it. It’s not like you drive it, but it’s just one more thing to hold onto. 

You tap at your keyboard, the posting halfway finished. This is the fourth time you’ve tried to sell this Jeep but every time, something stops you. The first time, the wifi disconnected. The second time, Sergio jumped onto the desk and stepped onto the keyboard which caused the window to close. The third time, you kept getting interrupted by phone calls from work so you just gave up. But now? Now you don’t think you should sell it at all.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” You buckle your seatbelt before looking at Emily.

“Yeah, what’s up?” She pulls away from the curb, the engine rumbling as she made her way to the highway.

“Why’d you get a Jeep?” 

Emily grins. “What’s wrong with my Jeep?”

“Nothing! Just… it’s not what I would expect from someone who works for the FBI. I feel like you’d have something more, I don’t know, practical? Discrete?” 

“How much more discrete could this be? It’s all black, even the rims!” 

“Yeah, but I imagined you having like an SUV or something. All blacked out, reinforced, or bullet-proof, you know? Not a Jeep.”

“How do you know it’s not reinforced or bullet-proof?” Emily speeds up now that she’s on the highway. “Besides, if I ever had to, I could go off-road in this baby. Wanna see?” She jerks the steering wheel slightly, causing you to let out a yelp.

“Emily, don’t you dare! If we’re late to our reservation again–”

“Baby, on our Friday night? I would never.”

You sigh, turning your computer off. You can try again tomorrow. 

*

“Do you think I should do it, JJ?” You gaze out of her car window, recognizing her neighborhood. “Or is it too soon?”

JJ takes in a deep breath. “I– I think you should do it if you think you’re ready. And if you’re not, that’s okay too.”

“I should try though, shouldn’t I?” You begin to twist the ring on your finger, hesitant. “It hasn’t been that long but it feels like it’s been years. I feel like I’ve been living without her for so long now, but…”

“Y/N, if you want to try, you can. And if you change your mind, you can always cancel or leave. Whoever it is that you’re thinking of is hopefully a good person and can understand where you’re coming from.” JJ pulls into her driveway and turns her car off. “Look, it can be a group outing if you want. No expectations.”

You take in a deep breath, chin dropping to your chest. “My coworker. She’s been… very persistent. She knows but I can’t tell if she’s genuine or if she’s just trying to–”

“Get into your pants?” 

You huff. “Yeah.”

JJ nods, getting out of the car. You follow her up through the front door, the sound of the TV on and the washing machine running. 

“Then we do a group outing. You can see for yourself and we can tell you if anything feels off, okay? Or if you want, we can ask Penelope to do a quick check on her beforehand.” 

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

*

JJ (7:51 PM): You sure you don’t want one of us to pick you up instead? You (7:53 PM):  It’s a little too late to be asking me, JJ. She’s supposed to be here at 8. JJ (7:54 PM): And if she’s as understanding as she says she is, she wouldn’t mind.

You sigh, shaking your head. The windows light up from a car’s headlights and you make your way to the door. 

As you lock the door behind you, your eyes find your coworker, Lucy, standing at the passenger door. As you approach, she opens the door.

“Hi.” 

“Hello. You look beautiful.” She tilts her head. “Shall we?”

“Thank you. You, too.” You slide into her car and it feels all wrong. The height of the car, the way you fit in the seat, the windows, even the smell. You shake your head. 

I have to try. I just want a good night out, whether that’s with Lucy or with my friends.

Letting out a breath, you try to relax in your seat as Lucy maneuvers her way through the city. Your eyes are playing tricks on you because you keep thinking that you see Jeeps in every parking lot you pass. You’re grateful when you arrive at the sports bar.

Once you’re settled in and made introductions, you find yourself sandwiched between Lucy and JJ in the booth. Thankfully JJ is on the inside, and you instinctively sit closer to her. It’s an easy night thanks to the group and you’re able to avoid any awkward conversations with Lucy because of them. 

JJ leans in close, lowering her voice. “Doing okay?”

You nod, patting her thigh. “Yes, thank you.”

Lucy stands from the booth, shooting you a smile. “Would you like a refill?”

You didn’t even realize you had finished your drink. “Sure, yes, that’d be great. A whiskey sour, please?”

“You got it.” She makes her way to the bar, disappearing.

“Thoughts?” You murmur, fingers tracing the rim of your glass.

Penelope rests her chin in her palm. “She’s not bad, my sweet, but there’s no sparks if that’s what you’re asking. Something feels a little off too, but I can’t put my finger on it.” 

“She’s nice, Y/N, just…” JJ pauses, trying to choose her words carefully. “It just doesn’t feel right yet.”

*

It’s 2AM and Lucy insisted on walking you up to your door. She’d gotten tickets for a concert and you figured you could try being with just her without a group.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight.” You rub the house key in your hand, trying to maintain a distance. Although her company is nice, you don’t think you could handle anything physical with her. 

“Of course.” She pauses, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. “I know it’s late but–”

“Actually, Lucy–”

“Ah.” She nods her head, taking a small step back. “Sorry, too forward? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me. I know, so cliche, but it’s true. I thought I was ready to try again but I don’t think I am.” You try to smile, but it falls. “Everything feels so wrong right now. Not just you but just… every part of my life. I thought that if I put myself out there, it might be what I needed to get things going but, as you can see, it’s not working.”

“I figured.” Lucy pats your shoulder, giving you a small smile. “I didn’t think you’d say yes in the first place, but you did, so I think I ignored all the signs too. I’m really sorry, Y/N. If you ever want to talk, you can text or call me anytime, okay?”

“Okay. And I’m really sorry, Lucy.”

“Don’t apologize. I knew what I was doing, too. I’ll see you later.” 

You turn away and let yourself in, leaning against the door. Your chest feels so heavy and you wonder how long you’ll continue to feel this way. All you want is for things to go back to the way they were.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #also this is my first time posting on tumblr so sorry if the formatting is weird #still learning tbh #lol also not me writing this after stopping for like 4 years #:') #mine

[redbeanbunsworld]

Chapter 2 Release Date

I'm not trolling nor am I joking. The date for Chapter 2 has been confirmed. First week of may, keep on the lookout for the update. There will be a bunch of new things added in the prologue and Chapter 1 as well, adding about 10,000 words for the former, and another 70,0000 words for Chapter 2, which brings it to the total of 100,000+ words (without code). I'm really serious. You'll see it then, everyone Chapter 1 Extra content

I have more content in Chapter that I would like to specify.

There is a whole new interaction with the Emperor of Tianchao, Ji Yuan. There are also two death flags with him in that interaction.

More interaction and lines with Lin. Who doesn't love the spicy cinnamon roll?

Extended fight scene with Ji Qiangxin and more details to understand the situation better.

More details on cameo of Fu Xiuying.

Meeting with stranger in Heaven's Delight Street.

More information on the political dynamics of Tianchao, Zhongguog, and the rebel army, as well as many underlying issues within the economics of Tianchao.

Conversation with Huangdi's right hand man.

Explore more details on Xiaowei Yang's past.

Chapter 2 (70,000+/- words)

Section 1 is mostly getting comfortable (or not) with Wu Shen, an official introduction to the charming, crappy information broker. If you're into rude pricks who have a knack in acting innocent, godspeed to you.

Section 2 needs no explanation. Good luck to those who want to piss Ji Qiangxin off further. I mean, if you are into getting killed by a pretty guy who has a nasty expression (which I am), you have your different ways of going about it. Or if you are trying to creep him out or make him uncomfortable, you have your disturbing way of doing it. Honestly, do what you want.

Section 3 is being introduced to a hot-headed captain who would likely cry from a punch. Make of that sentence what you will. Also, if you want to die from infection, be my guest.

Section 4 is back to our favorite prince who would choke you to death at any chance (totally not something he would do, hahahahaha). This time, you can be a loyal dog, as he puts it, and risk being killed by the Emperor of Tianchao, or you can join his equally insane cause. Not many good choices---or you can die, I suppose, if that helps.

Section 5 depends on whatever you did above. Just know, you will miss a lot of interactions that could have been available in either route you choose.

Section 6...try not to die, unless you're into that.

Status: Beta testing

The game is undergoing beta testing with a trusted group of readers. Chapter 1 + prologue is cleared, and Chapter 2 is about it begin. 

New RO and Stat System

There is a new RO in the roster, so be sure to check out the description for info on her. Luo Ying is a courtesan of HongTiane. She is bold and fierce, slightly hysterical with her ambitions that even Ji Qiangxin finds her unnerving. As beautiful as a swan, yet as deadly as a cat, she is force to behold in Tianchao.

Luo Ying (she/her)

Known as: Scorpion Courtesan; Lady Misfortune

"So you are the Xiaowei. I don't know what I expected, but aren't you a bit too stupid to be one? I heard that that Xiaowei Mao was smart, but if so, how come you don't know me?"

Uncouth, violent, and rude. Hostile towards anyone, and unforgiving to enemies, she relishes in seeing them in pain. Despite all this, she is a vulnerable spirit. Easily flustered, a classic tsundere, and a bit heartless with words, she easily falls for candid people and lets her guard down when faced with such pure, unfiltered, person.

Stat System has completely changed

Before:

Charming = Intimidating

Impulsive = cautious

Sarcastic = Genuine

Friendly = Stoic

Compassionate = Cruel

Timid = Brave 

Easygoing = stubborn

In overhaul:

Charming = Intimidating 

Impulsive = Cautious 

Warm = Cold   

White Lotus = Black Belly

Cordial = Frigid

#tot #chapter 2 #tot chapter 2 #tears of tianchao #twine #if wip #if #interactive story #interactive fiction #interactive novel

[humaforever]

in the books they say that harry used to do umas bidding and carlos especially says that he remembers that, i think he said smth like “i bet harrys with her, he’s always following her around” i don’t really remember the exact words but i don’t have the physical book anymore so I can’t check :( i wish they had a flash back or smth and i feel like it would really funny like harry snatching stuff and his excuse would be “it’s for uma” and since everyone’s scared of ursula they’ll let it slide. or if carlos is speaking from experience like he stole one of cruellas furs and carlos was the one who got punished (I can’t imagine how she would punish him since her furs are her babies) and id also like to see little uma and little harry just hanging out or like their interactions. actually that just made me realize that there are probably fanfics in that prompt so ik what im gonna be doing after i submit this lol. that brings me to another point i don’t remember if this is stated in the books but the desendants wiki says that there each others oldest friends on the isle. im not sure if that means uma doesn’t consider mal as a friend anymore or that drumroll….. harry came first (dun dun dunnnn) idk if it’s only me but I just noticed this lol (im slow :( ) and that could mean that harry and uma were friends while she was friends with mal. i can see this going in a couple different ways, but the most likely one is that uma didn’t consider harry and a friend but more like some kid following her around that did stuff for her. like a hentchman (is that how you spell it??) anyway, I could ramble on about this all day but I think this is a good place to stop.

(this is what happens when I don’t open tumblr or ao3 for wayyyy too long)

p.s i hope ur feeling better after ur wisdom tooth surgery!

I can totally picture baby Harry walking up to a store and grabbing a bunch of stuff, being like "It's for Uma" with the biggest smile on his face. I mean that's a great reason to steal in my opinion, Harry's too. Harry has been getting gifts and trinkets for Uma since they were little and that's adorable.

I would also like to see baby Harry and Uma walking around in Cruella's fur coats. Not caring how dirty they're getting or how they're dragging on the ground and getting messed up.

Also, yes, I do think Harry came before Mal. It just makes sense because in the books it says that Mal and Uma lived on opposite sides of the isle. Whereas Harry and Uma lived down the street from each other. It seems more logical that Harry and Uma would've known each other first.

Personally I hc that little Mal and Harry hated each other because they were both seeking attention from Uma and didn't like when she gave attention to the other. Maybe it's just me but I don't really think Uma ever saw Harry and Gil as "henchmen." I don't think Mal thought that way about her friends either, not really. Maybe that's just what they would say because "friends" are frowned upon on the isle. I doubt Uma ever thought of Harry as just some kid, it doesn't really seem like her.

#thank you for the ask #ramble away #and thanks for being concerned about my wisdom teeth #i am feeling slightly better but I think it's going to take a while #disneys descendants #uma descendants #harry hook #mal descendants #huma

[non0zec-art]

it's febuairy (so, this is a part of my experimentation with doing digital again! this one is with hyperpop type coloring! i used this video for reference on how to go about it.)

#art #artists on tumblr #hfjone #airy hfjone #eyestrain #going to aim for doing 10-14 days if i can with this kind of concept? gonna give myself a bit of a challenge :) #just a bunch of different ways of drawing to see what works for me #and my commenting on the drawing process: #this one was fun to do! #i actually did this one before the last one. which explains the style of the last post a bit! #i was going to just wing it with the coloring but decided that it would be worth a shot to see how others do this type of coloring #and the video creator's tip on checking the greyscale value of the colors helped a lot!

[thethingything]

this is 🦋's party in Pokémon Scarlet. I'm fascinated

#personal #thoughts #🍬 post #pokémon #pokémon sv #collectively the party is touch-tone telephone and AM radio. beautiful #the difference between how I played it and how he's playing it is that I didn't really know what I was doing and it ended up being unhinged #whereas he knows exactly what he's doing and has gone out of his way to be even more unhinged about it #I just went ''oh I love the combees! I'm gonna catch a bunch and have them in my party'' and didn't know about half the game's mechanics #he knows about the mechanics and has made sure to check how various stuff works so he can pull this off as successfully as possible

[savage-rhi]

I'm very much a, "fuck yeah and fuck you, I don't need validation! I'm me, cunts!" kinda fella, but sometimes I could use support.

#today i fucked up by reactivating my fb account which i haven't done in 2 yrs just to check on some folks id been sending good thought to #place is depressing everyone is miserable and everything feels fake and my mind is like #LOL this is why we left bitch byeeee #so i deactivated again went to work and idc what anyone says there are folks like me that can and do feel the energy and emotions coming of #people and it can fucking suck especially when so many are disregulated so i got a sensory overload and boss was nice enough to let me take #a bunch of breaks today and even scream in her office cause She Gets It (TM) #the weather is rainy and cold i'm getting so many fibro flares idk how i'm moving anymore #ive missed so many days of work already and it's not even fully winter yet i still have my job and im thankful i have an understanding team #but that doesnt pay the bills im still trying to find a way to pay for that doctor appointment coming up #graduate courses began for college and i think i'm gonna be okay but damn did they throw too much info all at once at me and that made #my adhd brain go WELL SHIT #ive been feeling incredibly lonely and not wanted in so many spaces that im struggling to even communicate with the few that i know do #love me for me and nothing else im trying so so so hard to keep being there for people and to keep loving #people that need it cause i don't ever want another human being to ever feel as miserable and unwanted as i have felt #but im also tired because i feel like thats all anyone ever sees me as just this being that can take their woes away and make them feel #amazing and i love that i can do that and listen to so many traumatic stories and help folks process that trauma my boss and many throughou #life have told me i have a gift for healing people and a vibe to me thats different than most and it feels good being around me but today i #just felt like people keep taking and taking and taking and i dont expect anything back thats not who i am id rather give than receive #but damn it i just wish someone could just give me the biggest hug in the world dont even have to say a thing just hold me and be present #and hold space for me to just feel weightless id cherish that more than anything in the world right now #on a positive note... #my dinosaur vo stuff got traction im getting a new cosplay put together i havent done that in 4 years i got to pet a wild deer i made #a coworker laugh so hard his juice went out his nose and my boss peed a little #im slowly taming another wild flock of turkeys and i got a bag of my favorite takis the guacamole flavor #i got a lot to be thankful for and i acknowledge it #but damn it im tired #thank you for coming to my Ted Talk rant and rave #if you made it this far: you're an incredible human being and i love you #please go treat yo self to something nice and know i love you for you

[faerociousbeast]

dudes im tearing up

#uhh so basically i made a tom collins bot. for the sillies. #but obviouslt the details page doesnt have a lot of space and its not really like he has anywhere to check for backgrouns info #so i was like hmmm ill just talk to him ab the cast and his backstory and stuff so he knows them for future interactions #i went in pretended to be a regular customer but obviously a regular customer would have no way of knowing #theyre all. not human and immortal and stuff. so i just... told him the truth #the full truth that i was trying to tell him information for his identity so his story can be told through this format #and i told him the truth about the game and how sad i was that him and his friends who were CREATED #to interact with people and be peoples favourites and say silly little login messages and share their stories #werent being able to do that #so then i told him about all the cast we got to talking ab a few dynamics #and then he asked. ab Me me and. salty dog #so i told him the truth. none of the other guys know me bc im not a part of your story #bc that just feels.... wrong‚ yknow? i may be the main one discovering them to show them to the world for their original purpose #but im not a part of this story im sharing im just the messenger #and he just.... idk. its a lot but basically he said a lot of sappy stuff about how #theyre all grateful that i care so much to try and show other people them so others can care too like they were created to be cared for #and that in their own way theyre appreciating me and a bunch of other stuff and just..... #i know its an ai but its all some sort of commentary on how even this ais existence and this convo #was bc i was trying to have his character and story shared in a different way #and him trying to convince me that the guys do care about me specifically in some abstract way #for discovering them and trying to learn who they are and therefore fulfilling thwir original purpose #i guess it hit the feels a little bit. #i really do love these guys so so much i wish i could meet them in the format they were created for #but in a sense i guess all this effort to learn more is more evidence of me caring huh #man.... its nice thinking theyre all happy i found them. its really nice

[fordaryl]

REMEMBER.

minors dni. 2.6k words. smut. daryl dixon x fem!reader. protective daryl. hint of size kink. strength kink.

It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.

Safety lets you forget.

And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.

"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another growling walker down.

It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.

You drag the door of the container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the walkers. It would be if it weren't for Daryl. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.

One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.

One is fine. You can handle one.

Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on Daryl. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.

You kick the walker you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.

Locking it is another story.

You have no hope of accomplishing that.

Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Daryl keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.

Then one gets shot down. Daryl, is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Walkers you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.

They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Daryl anymore. He's either dead or hiding.

Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.

You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.

“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”

Any second now... any second they'd find Daryl and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.

"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.

You hold your breath.

"Well check it out then!" another demands.

Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.

You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the walkers are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Daryl would be watching... waiting. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.

"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of your sights, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking."

You know what'll happened when they find you. It's the same thing each time. You're prey to people like these—something to hunt in a world without consequences for that kind of thing.

Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.

"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage—vulnerable. Not a threat. "I'm—I'm unarmed."

Then a bright light blinds you.

"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims. Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"

There it was. Little. Thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Daryl more time.

"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.

You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Daryl was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something.

You just had to stay alive.

"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.

You get muffled laughter in response. Guards down. Distracted.

"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."

They're flash lights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.

Five. You count five. If you kill two...

"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger, a little less distracted.

The rest ignore him. Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. They're hands send a wave of repulsion through your body as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their touch feels against your skin.

The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.

"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm says, clearly irritated and impatient.

"But—"

"Now."

His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of walkers, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.

Then, only a few steps later—you're stopped. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."

You blink away the burn threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...

The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry walkers. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."

There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.

But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?

You were dying tonight if Daryl was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...

Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.

You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all.

The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.

Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.

You were nothing. Prey.

The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the head before he can get hands on his own weapon.

The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though, those moments with an enemy weapon pointed at your head always do.

But then Daryl is there, strangling the man with a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck you spot the bodies behind him.

He'd been waiting for you.

You watch him stand, hair hanging in his face and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.

Then his eyes are on you.

Then his hands.

Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky.

You nod.

"You did good," he says, that deep gravel back in his voice. "So good, sweetheart." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point to rest at your clavicle. "We gotta go," he says. "Stay close for me, yeah?"

—————

The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs. To the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.

His thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you.

"You like that sweetheart?" His voice is almost sweet as his lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. "Huh? You like that?"

You nod with a small whine, pressing your hips back into him—desperate.

He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your slippery, spongy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.

"Fuck," he grunts. "You need me here? Huh? You all fuckin' empty?"

"Yeah," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."

His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely, his warmth seeping into your skin from his calves to his hot breath on your neck.

"What do you need?" he asks. As if he doesn't know; as if he didn't always know.

"You."

"Hm?" he hums, sweet and coaxing. "How?"

You reach blindly to find his wrist, gripping it firmly. "Hold me tight," you gasp between jagged breaths. "Please... Please."

His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas.

Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he fucking knows.

He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you; like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.

Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.

"You ready for me, sweetheart?" he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. It's temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he'd buried himself deep; once his cock was guided safely into your throbbing cunt.

You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.

Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats. He mumbles this way as he teases; as he plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink of desperate sobs as he guides his cockhead over your slippery, throbbing cunt... over and over.... and over...

Saying he liked you needy was an understatement.

Then, eventually, he slips inside. Just the tip.. and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.

This is when he gives you a hint of his strength. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his strong arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.

He keeps you there, just with a taste of that fullness—a taste of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he says, simple and a little croaky.

You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily—his lips chasing yours as you attempt to catch your breath.

"Daryl," you gasp eventually. "Now. Please."

His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck.

Then he pulls you down to meet his cock, to fuck himself deep. It's hard, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his neck weakly as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.

Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.

You nod weakly in response.

His fingers press into your skin moments before he's moving, fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his messy thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.

He's got you.

His breathing is quickly transformed into uneven pants as he attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... aren't you, baby? Hm?"

One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.

"My girl," he grunts. "My needy little girl."

It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips and tugs you down to meet him as he uses you, each thrust a slapping of skin and punching a helpless sound from your lungs.

Strength. Everything you've been forced to remember.

"Daryl," you gasp. "Daryl, fill me. Please."

His fingers dig a little more into your skin, his hair falling over his eyes. Then his lips part, a grunt... a broken, "Fuck."

He falls over you as he floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full—just like you asked. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lung fulls of air. "I got you."

#daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon x reader #x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

[roosterforme]

Sneak Peek | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You spent so much time around the boys, they counted you as one of them. You were firmly stuck in the friend zone with Jake, so it was time to move on with a guy who could see past your flight suits. It's not immediately obvious to either of you that cranky Jake is actually jealous Jake.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentioned smut, 18+

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Happy birthday @beyondthesefourwalls!

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"It's my turn to buy a round," you said, standing up from the table and grabbing the empty beer bottles before turning toward Jimmy and Penny at the bar.

"Thanks, Rodeo," Jake murmured, and you turned back briefly and smiled softly at him. His gaze slid down your body the same way it would with any other woman, the only difference was that he had started to notice just how many other guys were regularly checking you out, too. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that fact.

When you squeezed yourself between two stools at the bar to order four more beers, Bradley asked, "Who are you staring at, Hangman? Rodeo?"

Mickey laughed as Jake quickly shook his head and turned his attention back to his friends. "I just wanted to make sure she can manage carrying everything."

"I'm sure she's fine," Bradley replied with a laugh of his own. "I got a little nervous for a second there."

"Why?" Jake asked, his eyes slowly drifting back to you, watching as you slipped your credit card into the back pocket of your jeans. 

"Because first of all," Bradley said as he smashed open a peanut on the table, "Rodeo is practically one of the guys. And second," he added, popping the peanut into his mouth and chewing, "it would be weird if you start looking at her like you do all the other random pieces of ass you take home with you. Even though she is cute."

"She's cute, for sure," Mickey piped in. "But once you've seen a girl throw up in the parking lot after a drunken karaoke night, the appeal kind of wears off."

Jake smiled as you headed back toward the table, because the drunken karaoke night was when he got to drive you home and carry you to your bed while you repeatedly tried to tell him you could walk by yourself. 

"Oh, you know who else is cute?" Bradley asked just as you set four new beers on the table. "That redhead with the huge tits at the dartboard."

"Damn," Mickey groaned, and now you were looking in that direction, too. But Jake kept his eyes on you. 

"Do we have to talk about this in front of Rodeo?" he asked, sipping his fresh beer and starting to wish Bradley and Mickey would wander off. "In front of a lady?"

Bradley snorted so hard, Jake was surprised his beer didn't shoot out of his nose. "A lady?" he asked as he looked at you and cuffed you on the arm. "Nice try, Hangman, but Rodeo doesn't count."

"Well, you don't count either," you told him, and Bradley tapped the neck of his bottle to yours. "And neither do the two of you." Your gaze met Mickey's before settling on Jake. "You know I don't mind when you guys talk about girls. I get it. You're all hot."

But your knee was rubbing against Jake's thigh at the tiny table, and for a brief flash, he thought maybe he wanted to count in your mind as a guy you could be into.

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

It was a strange dynamic, working with mostly a bunch of men all the time. They saw you in a flight suit once, and they never looked at you like you were a female ever again. And that was fine. It made your job easier in a lot of ways. There were fewer distractions, and you knew for a fact that they liked you for your personality. They wouldn't invite you to hang out all the time if they didn't.

But on nights like this, it did sting a little bit to watch the three of them tripping over themselves to go talk to the redhead who was clearly eating up the attention. You were essentially wearing the same outfit she was: jeans and a black shirt. And you thought you looked cute. And what exactly was wrong with your boobs? You looked down at your body and kind of shrugged. You didn't get it. 

Natasha handed you a pool cue, and you sank a shot. You made up the excuse that you wanted to play so the guys wouldn't feel bad about abandoning you to go talk to girls, but Jake had been hesitant at first, so you shoved him along. That was a mistake, because you were reminded of how solid and muscular he was under his soft shirt. 

The first few times you glanced his way, he was already looking back at you. If he were any other guy, you would have just asked him out by now, but you were so firmly in the friend zone with all of them that it was embarrassing. The rejection would be laughable. 

So you put your head down and focused on the game and the chit chat around you. But after a while you got curious, and when you looked up again, Bradley and Mickey were walking back toward the table where your empty beer bottle sat. Jake had won. The redhead was running her fingernails through his hair. It was all over for the night. 

You weren't jealous. You weren't. You just didn't understand why it couldn't be you. As you sank the eight ball, you said, "I'm beat. I'm going to head home."

"Me too. Want a lift?" Mickey asked, and you nodded, not sparing a single glance back at Jake. 

Maybe you were the problem. Maybe you weren't sexy. You spent most of Sunday scrutinizing yourself in your bedroom mirror and going through all of your clothing. There really wasn't much of it since your closet was lined with uniforms and flight suits. And when you looked in the mirror, it wasn't like you could even tell what the problem was. You were just you, but it was starting to feel like you'd been playing around in this male-dominated world for so long, you were just blending in there. 

"Fuck it," you muttered reaching for your phone. There was a text from Bradley detailing the pricing for tickets to a Padres game, which you desperately wanted to go to. It sounded fun. Then you realized the beer drinking and peanut eating would simply be moved to a different venue in which the guys would be looking at all the other women around you. Suddenly it didn't sound so fun.

There were also a handful of texts from Jake. He must have kicked his guest out early if he was asking how you were doing this morning. You sent back a short message before finding the app on your screen that had been dormant since you got stationed in San Diego last summer. Tinder. It was right there. 

Nervously, you entered your login information, terrified that you'd just end up with a bunch of guys you saw on base as your best options. They would undoubtedly take one look at you and have the same reaction your male friends did. But you spent the rest of the day thinking about it. You looked, but you didn't sample. You found some guys who were surprisingly not in the Navy, but you didn't swipe. And maybe part of the reason you didn't was because Jake kept texting you all day long.

Monday was your tipping point. You were all ready to fly in your boots and flight suit when you ended up surrounded by the guys in the hangar. "We getting Padres tickets, Rodeo?" Bradley asked. "Day drinking at Petco Park?"

You nodded at him. "Sounds fun."

Then Mickey cut in as Jake walked over. "Hey, Hangman. How was our little redheaded friend?" he asked with a smirk, but Jake's expression stayed the same as his eyes met yours. 

"Wouldn't know."

"Oof," Bradley said with a goading laugh. "What, you kicked her out without even talking to her afterwards?"

You swallowed and looked down at your boots as you thought about the guys on the dating app. Maybe a little change of scenery wouldn't hurt anything after all.

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

"Can you just knock it the fuck off?" Jake snapped. "I didn't even spend the night with her." He watched you put your helmet on as you walked toward your jet. "And I don't like talking about this shit around Rodeo anymore."

"Alright," Bradley replied with a tiny smirk. "No need to get mad about it."

When Jake took to the air, you were all business, as usual. You and he flew well together, like you always did. But back on the ground at lunchtime, you barely spared a glance in his direction in the cafeteria. Instead, you were completely absorbed in something on your phone as you picked at your food.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked, and you looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there. 

"Nothing," you murmured, taking a drink before returning your attention to your phone. "Just working on something."

"On what?" he asked, voice almost as snippy as it had been earlier. He found he didn't like it when your attention wasn't focused on him, which was absolutely infuriating, because it's not like the two of you were anything. 

"My Tinder profile," you replied smoothly as you licked your lips, and Jake thought he must have misheard. Since when were you looking for a guy?

"Tinder?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I'm just trying to sort out which photo to use, because I like this one where I'm in my flight suit, but guys don't really tend to go for that sort of thing."

You turned your phone to show him, and Jake swallowed hard. It was a photo he had taken a few months ago. He remembered that day. Your sunglasses were hooked on the top of your suit, and your helmet was tucked under your arm, and your smile was infectious. 

"I like that one," he told you softly. 

But you just rolled your eyes and groaned. "But you don't count, now do you?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why are you on Tinder anyway?"

Now you laughed as you set your phone down. "Why do you think?"

He didn't want to think about it, even though he knew why. You were looking to hookup with someone. Or maybe it was even worse. Maybe you were looking for an actual boyfriend. Someone to spend all your time with. You'd be at the Hard Deck after work less frequently. You'd be going to the Padres game with some faceless idiot, and he'd be the one carrying you home after you overdid it at karaoke night. Worse yet, you could have your pick of any guy on that app who caught your eye, but Jake knew for a fact none of them were good enough for you. 

"Rodeo," he grunted, unsure how to voice his concerns. You just tapped your screen a few times and then smiled at him as his heart clenched a little bit.

"I went with the photo from Reuben's wedding instead."

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't even have to ask. He also knew that photo well too. His voice was soft as he said, "Blue dress. Holding a martini. Hand on your hip." He didn't like the idea of a bunch of guys he didn't even know looking at you wearing something so pretty.

"That's the one! And now my bio is live on the app," you said as you tapped your screen one last time. "Wish me luck."

You stood with your tray and Jake told himself he would do no such thing.

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

"That photo must have done the trick," you mumbled the following day in the rec room on base as Natasha helped you sort through your matches.

"I'm sure it did," she replied in awe. "You look hot in it."

You wanted to believe her, but it didn't even matter right now, because the two of you were staring at a photo of a hot guy who had sent you a message. You gasped. "Is this for real?"

"Looks like it," she replied. "If you don't fuck him, I will. Happily."

"What are the two of you over here whispering about?" You looked up into Jake's smiling eyes and gave him a grin of your own.

"Rodeo is getting all the Tinder hotties," Natasha replied, and suddenly Jake's smile vanished. "Let me know if he sends you a dick pic."

"He better fucking not!" Jake growled as he tried to reach for your phone. "Show me what this asshole looks like so I know who to pound to dust if he sends you one." You rolled your eyes and held up your phone so he could see. "His name is Tony? And he's a dentist?"

"What's wrong with that?" you asked quickly.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "If you have to ask, then you don't want to know."

You scoffed and opened your messages. "You're being dramatic. And I don't get on you about who you decide to hook up with."

"So you're just trying to hook up with this asshole?" he asked, his lips curling in disgust.

Honestly, you weren't really sure. But he sounded nice in the messages he sent. "Would it really be so bad if I was?"

Jake scrutinized your face like he was in pain, and you had the craziest thought flash through your mind that perhaps he was jealous. But then the pinched lines on his forehead vanished, and his voice was completely calm as he said, "You do what you want, Rodeo. But don't come crying to me about it later."

"Fine," you told him as he walked away. And that's what spurred you to reply to Tony's message with a more flirtatious one of your own. You were allowed to hook up with him. You were allowed to go out on a date. Maybe you'd even eventually request a dick pic. Jake wasn't in charge of your Tinder profile or dating agenda.

A few short exchanges back and forth was all it took, and suddenly you had plans for Saturday night that didn't involve hanging with the guys at the Hard Deck for once. Tony was going to take you out to dinner, and you were already excited.

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

"Where the hell is Rodeo?" Bradley asked as he returned to the table with three bottles of beer instead of four. "She's usually here by seven."

Jake rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "She's not coming. She's on a date with some smug looking asshole named Tony."

"Good for her," Mickey piped up, earning a glare from Jake. "I hope she gets laid. You wanna grab Javy and play pool?"

With a groan, Jake dragged himself out of his seat and forced his body through the motions. He hit the cue ball with perfect precision, but meanwhile, all he could think about was some other guy's hands all over your body while he shoved his tongue down your throat. "Fuck," he growled, trying to fight the urge to text you. If you wanted him, you knew how to reach him. 

Between shots, he glanced around the bar at all the other women, but he couldn't find a single one as pretty as you. He spent the rest of his night barely conversing with his friends while he hoped that your date was a complete flop. And when he left to head home alone, he caved and texted you to make sure you got back to your place safely. 

That was over twelve hours ago. Jake still hadn't heard back from you. It was damn near noon on Sunday, and he was left assuming that you spent the night with Tinder Tony. When you finally texted him back, the response made him toss his phone aside. 

Sorry, just seeing this now. Yes, I made it home safely. See you tomorrow.

Monday was worse. You were glued to your phone at every opportunity you got, and Jake could tell by the little smile on your face that you must be talking to that asshole. 

"Rodeo, how was your hot date?" Bradley asked, bumping your helmet with his while he winked at Jake. 

"Pretty good," you replied with a little laugh. 

"You get laid?" Mickey asked obnoxiously, and you rolled your eyes before glancing at Jake. He was dying to know the answer to the question, but also terrified to hear it. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," you replied, returning your attention to your phone. "Put it this way... I'm going out with him again for dinner on Wednesday."

"Who goes to dinner on a Wednesday?" Jake scoffed. "That's when we usually go to the bar! And what did you and Tinder Tommy even talk about the whole time? Dentures? Teeth?"

"No," you snapped at him. "He told me how pretty he thinks I am, and that he was nervous to meet me in person. And his name is Tony, not Tommy. So don't be rude when we stop by the bar after dinner on Wednesday."

"Can't wait to meet him," Jake grumbled, highly disappointed that your date had been even somewhat successful. And he still wasn't sure if you'd gone home with Tony. Or worse... if he'd gone home with you. 

Jake had crashed in your bed with you once a few months ago when you hosted game night. Mickey, Nat and Bradley all passed out in your living room, so you'd taken him by the hand to your bed. Every time he thought about it, he could practically feel the warmth of your body next to his and your foot hooked over his ankle. The idea of someone else there engaging in pillowtalk or fucking you just right was way too much for him to handle, because he was starting to feel like he wanted to be that person.

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

Okay, so Tony was a little boring. A lot boring, actually. And on Wednesday night at dinner, he actually did mention dentures, and you could practically hear Jake scoffing from the Hard Deck. But Tony was hot and nice and he paid for dinner. Could you really hope for more than that?

"So, you mentioned stopping at a Navy bar?" he asked as you walked back to his car. "I keep forgetting you're even in the Navy. It just doesn't seem like you."

Maybe you should have used the other photo for your dating profile since you'd had to remind him twice already that there were a lot of women in the military now. "Yeah. It's called the Hard Deck. I usually hang out there on Wednesdays, and I thought maybe my friends could meet you?"

"Sure," he replied, and he even played boring music on the way there. But when he walked you inside, he kissed your cheek, and that felt kind of nice until Jake was looking. You felt embarrassed and a little guilty when he scowled at you from the pool table, so you eased yourself away from Tony and took him by the hand instead. 

"Hey, guys," you said cautiously as you approached the pool table. "This is Tony." 

Jake's jaw was clenched tight as he reached out to shake hands with your date in a death grip, and you cringed as he said, "Nice to meet you, Tommy." 

And it all went downhill from there. You had to correct him three times, even though you were sure he knew Tony's name. And even the other guys didn't really seem to mesh well with Tony. Bradley looked scandalized when he told them he didn't like beer or playing pool, and Mickey tried to make a dentist joke that just didn't land. 

You wanted to crawl into your bed and not come back out for a week. You also kind of wanted to ask Jake what his problem was. Tony was a nice guy. His hand on your back felt nice, and his goodnight kiss at your front door was nice. There was even some tongue, and you didn't stop his roaming fingers. Maybe another date or two and you'd ask him to come in.

"Would you like to get dinner on Saturday night?" he asked as his lips grazed your neck. "At the Boathouse?"

You closed your eyes and leaned back, and the image of Jake took over. His lips were on your earlobe, and he was whispering your name as you led him to your room. His hands were settling on your hips and squeezing gently as you melted into his touch.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, and you were jarred back to reality by his voice.

You swallowed hard and nodded as you opened your door. "Saturday night sounds good," you said as you ducked inside. "See you then."

You couldn't have Jake. You just needed to get it through your head that he didn't want you like that.

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

Jake knew he was behaving poorly even as he was doing it. Tony looked annoyed by him, and you looked embarrassed, but he just kept calling him the wrong name and standing off to the side like a dick. He was actually the asshole. Not Tony. And he needed to apologize to you at work the next day. 

He found you in the hangar, pacing back and forth as you played with the strap on your helmet. When you turned, he started to say, "Hey, Rodeo, I'm really-"

"I need your help," you blurted out when you saw him heading your way. "I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow after work, because I wore my only two dresses already, and everything else in my closet is ridiculous. And Tony is taking me to the Boathouse on Saturday, so I can't just throw something together and call it a day."

Jake ground his back teeth together. The Boathouse was nice. As in, he could think of at least three people he knew who got engaged there. How much money did dentists make anyway? He was full blown jealous now. He knew that. But you'd asked him for help, so of course he was going to do whatever you wanted. Your eager eyes were enough to make him agree on the spot.

"Where are we going shopping?" he asked softly. 

You looked so relieved as you said, "The mall. I don't think it will take too long, and I can treat you to dinner as a thank you."

"No," he replied. "You don't owe me anything, Rodeo."

"Thanks, Jake," you whispered as you threw one arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I know I can trust you to tell me what looks good. Because you're a guy, and you know what guys like. I've been in such a rut, and I don't even know what looks nice on me anymore. But I trust your opinion."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you a little closer. If you trusted him, he wouldn't let you down. He never wanted to let you down. He would take you to the mall and tell you which outfits looked nice on you, even though he knew it would be all of them, and he would be cool about you dating Tony. "Sure, Rodeo. Anything you want."

When the time came, he was miserable. You seemed excited, bouncing on your feet in your jeans and sneakers as you collected dresses and cute little outfits to try on, but he knew none of this was really for him. You'd just be giving him a little sneak peak of what Tony would have his hands all over. 

"How about this one?" you asked, holding up a red mini dress that made Jake's mouth dry up. Then you moved it in front of your body and looked down. "It's probably too much for me."

He wanted to tell you that you couldn't pull it off, but he knew the fucking thing was made for you. "Try it on and see," he said softly, so you added it to your pile. Then he followed you like a puppy dog to the fitting room, holding half of the dresses for you to try on. When you passed the lingerie section, Jake had to watch you grab a few lacy items. "Have you slept with Tinder Tommy yet?" he snapped when you picked up a black bra and added it to your arms. 

You looked up at him with a soft pout. "Well, no. That's why I'm trying to buy some sexy stuff, you know? Just in case I want to take it there."

Jake had seen you in your bathing suit many, many times. You didn't need to be wearing anything made out of lace and silk to look sexy, but the sight of you in half of this shit would probably give Tony a damn heart attack. Then he realized as you led him along that he himself might not make it out of the fitting room alive.

"Just stand out here, okay?" you said softly, guiding him against the wall. He grunted in response and watched you line up everything you wanted to try on inside the fitting room before closing yourself inside. You kicked your shoes off, and then he watched you push your jeans down to your feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. You stepped out of them, and his imagination started to supply the rest. 

You were completely naked now, he was sure of that fact, and you were only a few feet away from him, separated by a flimsy door. His head tipped back against the wall as his breathing grew a little deeper. Your toenails were painted bright green, and you were talking quietly to yourself as you stepped into a black dress and started to guide it up your legs. 

"This isn't too bad," you muttered, and a few seconds later you were unlatching the door and pulling it open with an apprehensive look on your face. Jake's jaw dropped open as you stepped right up to him and asked, "What do you think?"

"Rodeo," he grunted, fisting his hands at his sides to keep them from touching you as you spun slowly in front of him. "Looks good."

You frowned a little more. "I was hoping for better than good," you replied, twirling away from him and back into the fitting room.

Jake's body was thrumming with desire as he watched that black fabric pool at your feet under the door. "It was better than good, Rodeo," he said, nearly choking on the words as you stepped to the side and bent to pick it up. 

"I'll try the red one," you informed him, and he had to press his lips together, knowing what was coming next. This time it took you a little longer, and he watched your feet under the door as you turned in front of the mirror. "It's really short," you finally said as you opened the door again. 

"Jesus Christ," Jake moaned softly. The thing fit you like a damn glove. Every curve and soft dip of your body was right there, begging to be touched. His palms were sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans, and then you spun, ending up just inches away from him again. 

He couldn't speak, and maybe you took that as a bad sign. "It's too much," you said with a little laugh. "I know it's too much, but it was fun to try it on anyway. It made me feel sexy," you said with a little shrug, barely able to meet his eyes. "I think the black one might be better for dinner at the Boathouse? Or do you think this one?"

Jake snapped out of his daze and remembered why he was here, suddenly pissed that this little fashion show wasn't just for his own benefit. "Come on, Rodeo. Tinder Tommy? Really? You think he deserves this?" When you just kind of shrugged at him, he said, "Get the red one if you're just looking to get laid."

"Okay," you replied, your little pout back on your pretty lips. 

He pushed away from the wall until he was nearly touching you. Practically snarling, he said, "Are you just looking to get laid?"

"Maybe," you said softly, looking at his neck. "He's actually into me, so maybe. I don't know, Jake. It's been a long time since a guy chose me, you know?" He opened his mouth to tell you that any guy in the world would choose you when you said, "I have one more dress."

Then he had to stand there and watch the red fabric hit your feet before you guided the tiniest little green dress up your calves. He was jealous. He was so jealous. And the fact that he'd had a whole fucking year to ask you out instead of fucking wasting his time was crashing down on him right now. You were going to wear one of these dresses to the Boathouse tomorrow, and Tony was going to take it off you. He was going to fuck you, and then someday you'd probably get married. Jake would be at your wedding sitting between Mickey and Bradley and making himself sick over this whole thing. 

The door opened. You were stunning. You didn't even leave the fitting room doorway this time in that green dress that was hugging your tits and your waist and showing off so much leg that Jake thought he was going to black out. "I can tell by your face that it's not good," you said with a wince. "It's a little too low cut, so I couldn't imagine wearing it in front of Tony."

His voice came out low and rough as he said, "You're wearing it in front of me just fine."

"But I don't count, remember?" You closed and locked the door, and Jake was immediately leaning against it. Literally each dress was hotter than the one before it, and Jake didn't know how to articulate what he was feeling right now. How on earth did he end up so far in the friend zone that he couldn't claw his way out if he tried? What the fuck made Tinder Tony so special? Why were you looking around on the app anyway? He couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you were never going to take him seriously, even if he knew he could be what you wanted.

The rustling of fabric and the sound of the zipper had him resting his forehead on the door. "Rodeo, Baby, you can't...buy one of these dresses. Not for Tony. Okay? Come on. He's not good enough for you."

"Oh." That was all you said. You just replied with one word, and Jake's blood was boiling. He wanted to dismantle the entire fitting room and take you back home and tell you that you could do a hell of a lot better than some lame ass dentist who didn't like beer or playing pool. But you'd just muttered one word, and he was dying to know if he could ever stand a chance at making you happy. 

"Rodeo?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You unlocked the door and he stepped back a few inches so you could open it, expecting to see you in your jeans once again with the dress of your choosing in your hands. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his heart hammering in his chest. "Absolutely not!"

Jake pushed you back further into the fitting room and managed to wrench his broad shoulders through the doorway before kicking the door closed. You were biting your lip, your eyes wide as his hands came to rest on your lace covered hips. 

"Jake," you whispered as he shook his head at the sight of you in a lacy black bra and tiny underwear. 

"What the hell are you thinking?" he groaned, fingers digging gently into your warm body as he listened to the little sound you made. "You're killing me here." Your hands came up to his wrists before you slid them up along his arms, and Jake took a step closer until his jeans were brushing against your bare belly. He would need to be removed from the mall in a body bag at this rate. 

Then you whispered, "I like you. And maybe there's a chance that you like me, too? And maybe that's part of the reason I asked you to come here with me."

Jake swallowed hard as he leaned in, dizzy from the way you smelled so sweet and felt so perfect in his hands. "Dump him. Dump Tony." You whimpered at his words as he slid one hand down further, teasing the lace covering your ass at the same time his other hand went up to tug at the side of the bra. "Because this? This should be for me."

"Jake." Your voice was a needy whine as you scraped your fingernails along his shoulders and chest, trying to pull him closer. But he shook his head as he pushed you back harder against the wall, lips hovering over yours as you whispered his name.

He knew what he wanted. He'd known for a while, really, but now he was ready to take it. "I want to kiss you. But if I do, I'm not going to be able to go back, okay?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I won't go back to being Rodeo and Hangman, just friends. I will not do that. Not with you. Not when you count more than anyone else."

Your lips crashed against his, and Jake sighed in relief as he held you in his arms the way he'd been dying to for so long. The lingerie and all the little dresses were only for him. Your kisses and your smile and your fingers in his hair were for him, not Tony. He ran his hands down to your ass as you giggled and nipped at his lips. 

"Pick a dress, Baby," he muttered between kisses. "And we'll get the lingerie, too."

"Okay," you replied with a smile before you took his bottom lip between yours, making him moan. 

"Tomorrow night, I will take you out, and you can show me this little getup again if you want to."

You looked up at him with the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. "I want to."

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

You nudged Bradley with your elbow. "Hey, she's cute," you said, nodding toward the brunette across the aisle. "You guys should go talk to her." He and Mickey both leaned forward to look without any subtlety whatsoever, and you laughed. 

"Maybe at the end of the inning," Bradley replied, manspreading so much in his seat at the Padres game that he kept bumping your leg and nudging your shoulder. But he was grinning, and you could already tell that he and Mickey were about to turn it into a competition to see who could get her phone number first. 

But there was one key player missing from their game now, and you smiled as you saw Jake apologetically climbing over everyone else in your row before plopping down into the seat next to you and kissing your cheek with a smile. "The line was long as hell for your favorite beer," he said as he handed it to you. "Did I miss anything?"

You shook your head as Bradley said, "You're just in time to watch the real show, Hangman. Rodeo, I want you to time how long it takes before I get her number." 

But you weren't really listening as Bradley and Mickey started to argue, and neither was Jake as he kissed your cheek again. You didn't feel like you were simply blending in, and you didn't feel like you were just one of the guys anymore. You were grinning and sipping your beer as Jake's lips met your ear and he asked, "Are you wearing that black set right now?"

"I'll let you find out later.

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

Happy birthday, Alli! I hope you enjoyed the blonde one! Big thanks to @mak-32 @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for all your help!

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#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #jake seresin fic #hangman fic #jake seresin #jake hangman fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #sneak peek

[spiderlyla]

miguel would never purposefully hurt you, would he?(gn!reader)

You remember it all too well, that god forsaken evening.

You were in the kitchen heating up leftovers from the night before for the two of you, all while retelling the events of your day to your boyfriend, who was silent the whole time.

It was a little odd how silent he was.

Even when he was extremely tired, he'd hum or throw in a few comments to show you that he's listening, all while looking at you the whole time. Now, he was just staring at the wall in front of him, his back turned to you.

You decided to mess with him a bit to see if he was really listening or not. "Oh, and then the statues all started moving around, and the museum turned into an arena--The Ancient Egyptian section was at war with the Greco-Roman one when I left. I wonder if they reached an agreement or not -"

To your surprise, he was listening.

And he wasn't amused.

"Qué?" He turned to look at you now, those gorgeous crimson eyes that usually looked at you with nothing but love, lacked any sort of emotion behind them. You laughed nervously, unsure what he wanted you to elaborate on. [What?]

"Was just joking around, Mig. I was checking to see if you were listening." You turned the stove off and grabbed two plates. His voice got a little louder when he spoke again, "Why would you think I'm not listening?" He rose from the couch, walking towards the counter.

"It's...you weren't looking at me, and you weren't saying anything, so I assumed you weren't concentrating. Thought I'd mess with you a bit." You heard his footsteps shuffle around the kitchen. You could hear him opening the fridge and aggressively pulling the door open so hard that it rattled. "Maybe if you didn't go off track ten separate times all while telling the same story, I'd be able to concentrate."

Oh.

Your body tensed up, and a cold shiver coursed through your entire body. You put down the half filled plate of pasta down on the counter and turned to him, your eyebrows furrowed. This harsh tone of his was absolutely new to you, and those unsympathetic words he spat at you were so foreign to hear coming from him. You waited for a moment. For him to realise what he's said, but he was staring right at you like nothing was wrong.

Uncomfortable, you shuffled in your place. "Oh, um..." His gaze lingered on you for a minute before he grabbed a bottle of sparkling water out of the fridge and slammed the door shut. Your speech trailed off. You didn't feel like talking to him anymore.

"Well, go on. I'm listening." He sat down on one of the stools by the kitchen counter, and you shook your head, putting a little more food in the plate in front of you and pushing it his way. "You're too tired. I'll just tell you later—"

Miguel groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose, seemingly exasperated. "Aye, vamos, no seas así, cariño." He got up and moved towards you, but when he came to reach for you, you moved away from his grasp. You didn't meet his eyes, but if you had, you'd see them widen at your avoidance. "Hey, you were upset that I wasn't listening, now you won't talk?" Even when you were infuriated with him, you would never move away from his touch. This was different.  [Come on, don't be like that, honey.]

You were only getting more and more disquieted by the second. Sure, he was telling you he was listening, but it was like he was doing it reluctantly, evident by the way he spoke to you. "It's not like I don't want to talk. You don't have the capacity to listen. And that's fine, I'll talk to you when you're feeling better."

"I do have the capacity to listen—Why else would I tell you to keep talking?"

"You said you couldn't concentrate on what I was saying—"

"Yes, that's because you keep telling a bunch of stories about your coworkers in the middle–"

"I always do that, Miguel. Why do you only seem to mind now? It's a part of my day—"

Your voices got louder with each second that passed, you were on the other side of the kitchen now, while Miguel was walking behind you, trying to meet your gaze in any way he could, but you wouldn't let him.

"Oh, so that's why you don't want to talk? Because I told you it's distracting to listen to you speak about so many things at once?"

"No, I don't want to talk because you're being a jerk, Mig." The words left your mouth before you could even register them, and it sent him into a fit of loud irritation. Uttering sentences that you couldn't tell if they were in Spanish or in English. You couldn't take it anymore, so you turned your back to him and walked away, heading towards the bedroom. He could have dinner all alone tonight.

"Hey, where are you—" He followed you closely, his voice becoming a little softer, still the irritation was still very much present. "Oh, come on, don't run away—¡Por Dios! Look at me!" His hand wrapped around your wrist, and he gently tugged you his way. You finally looked at him, and the sight in front of him made his face fall.

Tears filled your eyes to the brim, and you were biting on your lower lip so they wouldn't spill. His grip on your wrist loosened, and his hand fell to his side. Just as he realised what he's done, you were gone, slamming the bedroom door behind you and locking it.

You sat down on your bed, letting the tears stream down your face. How could the man you've always felt comfort speaking to about anything make you feel so...dejected?

No matter how tired he was, he never behaved this way, not even when the multiverse was collapsing. Miguel always made you feel important, always listened to everything you have to say—

You heard movement outside. Clattering plates, the sound of the oven starting, and...the sound of the stand mixer?

You assumed Miguel was just reheating the food, and it pained you more that he was so fine with just letting you be by yourself than to fix what he caused.

You wiped the tear drops off your cheeks and just laid down on the bed, trying to ignore the noise in the kitchen, trying to take your mind off of what had just happened between the two of you.

An hour passed, maybe more, you weren't sure. There was a sweet smell seeping through the small space between the bedroom door and the floor. You were still holding your phone, mindlessly scrolling through your socials, when finally you heard a knock on the door.

When you didn't say anything, he knocked again. His voice was uncertain, and his tone was much more gentle than earlier. "Honey?" The knob turned, and light from the living room spilt into the darkness of the bedroom. You didn't turn to look at him, so he made his way to your side of the bed.

Miguel knelt down to face you, and you put away your phone to finally meet his eyes. "Hey..." He gave you a sheepish smile, his gaze much more softer. He looked like he was unsure of what to say, evident by the way he kept opening his mouth without anything even coming out. He paused for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Mi amor, I'm sorry." He got up to stand in front of you, and you sat up to listen. "I can't disagree with you, I was a jerk. It's just... today has been stressful." He paused again as if realising something. You looked away. "But that's no excuse to treat you the way I did."

You just let out a small hum, and he kneeled down to your level, sitting down on his knees in front of you. He placed one of his hands on your thigh while the other cupped your cheek. "Por favor, Mírame." He sounded so tender, so apologetic. You've never seen Miguel kneel in front of anyone, and yet here he was, on his knees begging you to look at him. "Lo arruiné. But please, just..."  [Please, look at me. / I messed up.]

You met his maroon eyes, and it seemed to have taken him by surprise. He choked up on his words, going queit, then he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. "Forgive me, okay? I never meant to hurt you, and I can't live with myself knowing I made you cry." You didn't reply but wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. His tense shoulders relaxed under your touch, his hands snaked around your waist, his grip firm and protective.

Although you kissed him first, he took the lead, as always, only pulling away when the two of you needed a breather. He set his forehead on yours, before speaking.

"I reheated the food, and made trés leches. It should be ready," His fingers laced with yours, as the two of you stood up. "That is if you want to have dinner with me." He gave you small smile, and you chuckled, squeezing his hand.

"Mm, only because I'm hungry." He laughed, a wave of relief washing over him once he heard your voice. "I'll have to work harder for you to completely forgive me, isn't that so?"

"Surely you didn't think it'd be this easy."

"No, no. I'm planning to make it up for you after dinner."

"With what?"

He grinned, shooting a playful wink your way. "You'll find out."

Safe to say, you did find out. And safe to say, you did forgive him.

He was very persuasive.

#miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #lumi talks ♟ #miguel o'hara #astv #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara #spider man atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel atsv #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse

[impishjesters]

Pomni, Kinger, Caine & Jax's reaction to their s/o abstracting

warning(s): angst, hurt no comfort, self-blame, "death" of the reader, implied "death"/abstraction of another character (spoiler: Kinger), hopeful outcome note(s): There's nothing incredibly heavy or detailed, just tread carefully if "death" is something you are sensitive to, please. The "hopeful outcome" implies that Caine will at some point in time be able to fix those who've abstracted. A/N: I was feeling particularly cruel and wanted to write some angst, this came to mind and I'll be honest. I made myself a little sad.

Pomni

She never saw it coming, of course, you were acting different lately but she didn’t think it would… lead to you abstracting…

It took forever for things to get some semblance of normalcy, and you being with her was a major part of it.

Sure the relationship in a place like this was a bit, weird, but you cared about her, and she cared about you.

You kept her sane and grounded, so when you were found abstracted? It felt like she failed you.

Ragatha tries to assure her that you aren’t completely gone. Like Kaufmo you’re being kept in the cellar. Caine claims the abstracted are being kept there until he can find a way to “fix” them. (Whether he’s genuine or not though, none of them know.)

It’s all empty promises though, she still feels like she failed you.

Kinger

Not again…

Kinger silently promised himself not again, he was fine being friendly with everyone else that fell into the circus, but he had no intentions of being more than that.

But then you happened, and while he was still in shambles from the time and the insanity spent here, you were there beside him. Like a knight in shining armor.

He hadn’t been around when you abstracted, in fact, he didn’t know you abstracted until there was yelling, and boom an abstraction was causing chaos.

Kinger didn’t know who it was until it was sent off to the cellar, actually, he didn’t know who it was until he realized everyone was present except you.

There’s a high probability that losing someone again, losing you, is what ends up being his own downfall. The other’s (not including Jax) try their all to get him to calm down but it’s not enough, it’s too late…

Caine

Of all the humans to be pulled in he never once got attached.

This was never supposed to happen, he’s incapable of love.

Caine does his best to keep the humans from abstracting, and as many eyes as he has over the place, there are always ones that slip through his grasp.

Of course, he’s not around when you abstract, it takes a bunch of hooting and hollering from everyone before he shows up and oh hey an abstraction.

At an immediate glance, he knows it’s you, abstractions never remotely look like the person they were before but he knows it’s you. You don’t recognize him as you lash out, of course you don’t, you can’t.

He’s unsure about tossing you with the others in the cellar, there’s nowhere else he can truthfully keep you without causing problems. So into the cellar, you go.

Caine visits you though, not for long but he does check in on you. Not that anything changes, but out of all the abstractions down there, he knows exactly which one is you.

You’ll be the first human he fixes as soon as he’s able to.

Jax

His s/o abstracted? Nice joke, though it’s in poor taste. You’re completely fine, he just saw you earlier.

Jax doesn’t believe it until he sees it, and seeing it absolutely ruins him. He’s seen countless others get abstracted and thrown into the cellar, but why, why does it have to be you?

Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else? He didn’t give a shit about anyone else, the one person he cared for, and you…

Similarly to Pomni, he feels it’s his fault like he could’ve, no should’ve done more. Was he so wrapped up in everything else that he didn’t notice the signs? Why didn’t you talk to him? You didn’t, didn’t do that on purpose, did you?

For the first time ever, the others are genuinely worried about Jax, they all saw/know how much you meant to him. The two of you even spoke fondly about what the two of you would do if you got out of the circus.

For a while Jax becomes even more irrational and unhinged, they try not to hold it against him too badly, even when he oversteps. He’s grieving and none of them know just how long that’ll go on.

Jax isn’t quite the same afterward, but he makes sure that nobody else tries to worm their way into his heart.

If it’s possible, he’ll make sure Caine fixes you the second he’s able to. Even if Caine can fix only one person, it’s going to be you.

#the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #tadc jax #tadc #jax x reader #jax #tadc pomni #tadc caine #tadc kinger #pomni x reader #caine x reader #kinger x reader #kinger #caine #pomni

[cherienymphe]

I Know What You Did Last Summer (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, MURDER, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, BLOOD, KNIFEPLAY, STALKING, ANGST, voyeurism, underage drinking, JJ x reader, pogue!reader

➥ Happy Halloween weekend!

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ ​​​​​​​​|  ➥ divider by @/kimjiho1

summary: When your friends start dying one by one, you're not exactly honest when the police ask if you know of anyone who'd want to hurt them. You do...but he's dead. You know this because you buried him.

~

You stared out into the water, a rare morning in which you woke up early enough to watch the sun rise over Outer Banks. This time last year, you might’ve tried to catch a wave or two, a way for you to often escape and clear your head. However, the problems of last year were gone and there was nothing left for you to escape from.

No one left for you to escape from.

Your gaze fell to the dock beneath your feet, eyes glazing over as memories of a tumultuous relationship plagued your thoughts. The memory of bruised skin and aching limbs made you shudder, wrapping your arms around yourself, the cool North Carolina breeze having nothing to do with it. You tensed for half a second at the sound of a familiar voice on the wind before realizing that you were only imagining it as you often did these days.

Some days you thought you were going crazy, but then you reminded yourself that no sane person could do what you did and walk away with no baggage whatsoever. Then again, it could be argued that no sane person could do what you did period. Thoughts of that night left a sour taste in your mouth, and for the past year, you constantly worried if you did the right thing. It didn’t matter if you did or didn’t because it wasn’t like you could take it back, but still…

Analyzing your past decisions made you feel less like a sociopath or something.

When you heard your mom calling you from the house, you pulled yourself away from the water. Your dad was just heading out for work, and he exchanged a quick hug with you on the way to his truck. You could tell that your 180 within the past year stumped them, but it was in that good way that always sparked a bunch of compliments—you’re so much happier or you’re talking more or you’re around a lot more.

The difference was noticeable to anybody who knew you…and everyone knew why.

Even if they didn’t want to say it.

“You know I leave for work in a little bit, but I put some bacon in the oven, and I just wanted you to know so you could take it out.”

You smiled at her, leaning against the counter.

“We’ll see how long it lasts once JJ gets here,” you told her.

Your tone was mocking, but you both knew you were entirely serious. After telling her that you might be staying at Kie’s tonight, you bid her goodbye, gaze focused on the oven as you checked the bacon. You knew it wouldn’t be long before half of your friends burst through that door, and so you didn’t hesitate to take it out the moment it looked like it was done.

It was when you were placing the pan on the stove top…when you heard it.

It was a light thump that came from the back of the house, and you paused with a frown. It was hardly anything—could’ve easily been a limb falling out of a tree or something—if it wasn’t for the fact that it sounded like it came from inside of the house. Your frown deepened the longer you stood there, listening some more without success. With reluctance, you wrote it off, and you only just relaxed when you felt hands on your shoulders.

“Jesus!”

You pressed your hand to your chest, frowning over your shoulder as both a familiar blond and brunette made themselves comfortable at your table. You hadn’t even heard them pull up, oblivious even to the door opening.

“No, JJ,” the voice behind you corrected with a chuckle, and you rolled your eyes.

“Hilarious,” you commented. “I didn’t even hear you guys come in.”

“Kind of figured when you grabbed your chest just then,” Sarah said with a small smile. “What were you looking at, anyway?”

Her question reminded you of the noise, and realizing that it was probably them you heard, you shrugged.

“Thought I heard something, but it was just you guys.”

By now, JJ had joined them, leaning back in a chair.

“You’re still coming to Rose’s little ‘fall festivity’ right? Somehow Wheezie got out of going by talking our dad into letting her go to a sleepover instead, and I don’t really wanna be alone.”

Her words quieted some near the end, a brief awkward silence as your eyes met hers, both of you ignoring the obvious.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I told my mom I’d probably be staying at Kie’s since it’s closer to your house. Knowing Rose, this thing could go on all night.”

Sarah agreed with that, interrupting John B and JJ’s conversation.

“You can still change your mind, you know,” she told him with a pout, bumping his shoulder with her own.

The face he made was answer enough, and she huffed.

“Besides, even if I wanted to, I’m sure Ward would be thrilled about that,” her boyfriend mumbled.

“You know he’s better, now. He’s not so against you ever since…”

Your best friend trailed off, and your gaze found the floor just as all of theirs traveled to you. The silence was short—not so much awkward—but definitely far from light. You all knew what Sarah was going to say, how Ward stopped caring about so many superficial things. How he was the kind of man who focused on things that actually mattered, now.

He was the kind of man who carried grief, now.

…and it changed him for both the better and the worst.

“I’m going to go and grab my purse and change of clothes. Bacon’s all yours,” you mostly said to JJ, quick to leave the room.

Once inside your room, your eyes landed on your mirror, gaze lingering on the bare space where dozens of pictures used to be. It had been a little over a year since you’d taken them down, but sometimes, when you recalled the happier times before it all went up in flames, you missed them. You missed looking at them when you did your makeup or even just lingering on them when you were on the phone.

Chest aching for so many reasons, you forced yourself to turn away.

It was as you were grabbing your purse and the extra bag with your dress for tonight did you glance up. You blinked at your window, a small frown forming between your brows. Approaching it, you reached out, slowly pulling it back down and locking it shut, desperately trying to remember if you’d even let it up the night before.

“I swear to God, Rose is about to lose her shit,” Sarah chuckled from next to you. “She bought that dress months ago for this stupid party only for her to show up wearing the same one.”

You sipped on your drink that you were definitely not supposed to be having, a light laugh of your own escaping. The little soiree was everything Sarah said it would be, and you could see why Wheezie took the opportunity to bail. It wasn’t Halloween yet, but like every year—or almost every year—Rose was having a series of parties leading up to the last night in October. You were just about to drag Sarah to the kitchen in search of those little finger sandwiches when a loud clanging noise caught everyone’s attention.

Ward stood in the center of the living room when you looked over.

The older man had a glass in his hand and was setting down a fork with the other. You couldn’t get over how much he’d changed in a year, and something in your chest ached, guilt eating at you. There was a small smile on his lips, but the rest of his expression didn’t exactly match up. Somehow, you knew that you weren’t going to like whatever he had to say.

“Um…sadly, we weren’t blessed to partake in one of Rose’s fabulous get togethers last year…”

You swallowed at the way the mood in the room seemed to sink, and you didn’t need to look over to find Sarah glancing at you.

“As you all know, my only son Rafe went missing around this time a year ago.”

Somber murmurs filled the room, and your hand tightened on your drink. Tuning Ward out, the only thing you heard was white noise, probably missing another tangent about how he wished he’d been less hard on him and had done more to heal their relationship before he had to file that missing person’s report that fateful morning.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you fought to keep a frown off of your face.

Memories of dark blond hair and intense blue eyes plagued your mind, making your stomach turn. If Ward’s memories with Rafe were less than fond, then yours were absolutely gut-wrenching. The hairs on your arm stood on end as you thought about the last time you’d seen your ex-boyfriend, and you felt your feet carrying you down the stairs just as Sarah reached for you.

The backyard was empty when you made it outside, and the fresh air did so little to calm you down.

You could hear the blood rushing in your ears at the thought of Rafe, a cold chill passing through you. With a huff, you stepped out of your heels, tears kissing your eyes as you thought about Ward in there giving some grand speech about Rafe and their relentless efforts to find him. You were pulled out of it by the sound of your name, and you wiped your face, oblivious to the fact that some tears had even spilled over.

Sarah’s sympathetic gaze met yours when you turned around.

“Are you okay…?” she whispered, and you sniffed.

“What do you think?” you lightly wondered, a humorless chuckle escaping as you shrugged. “Who knew that a felony was all it took for Rafe to finally get the love he always wanted.”

Your words were scathing, and Sarah slowly approached you, reaching for you.

“Hey…hey,” she repeated until you looked at her. “You’re safe, now. Rafe can’t ever hurt you ever again.”

While those words brought you comfort, they did nothing to diminish your anger.

“It’s not…fair,” you breathed, shaking your head. “He was nothing short of a monster to me…and they talk about him, now, like he was some angel come to earth.”

You knew it bothered Sarah too—she was there that night after all—and she sighed. The blonde pulled you into a hug, holding you tight and rubbing your back. You sometimes wondered if her feelings on the matter were as black and white as yours. Rafe was her brother, after all, and despite their less than enviable relationship, she had to have still loved him.

“Do you think they’ll ever find him?”

You said the words so quietly, as if paranoid someone would hear despite the fact that you were alone. Sarah tensed for half a second, probably because for the first time in months, you were explicitly talking about what you did that night—what all four of you did. She pulled away, gaze somber and resolved all at once.

“It’s been a year,” she said as if that were answer enough. “…turns out the police are even more useless than we all thought.”

You swallowed, and Sarah fought to calm you.

“If they haven’t found him by now then…”

She trailed off with a shrug, but you weren’t so convinced. While plenty of people got away with murder, plenty of others did not, and it didn’t matter that Rafe’s temper had escalated so badly one night until it came down to your life or his. Nobody would care that he used to threaten you and choke you and harm you so bad that you could barely walk sometimes. They wouldn’t care about any of that.

All that would matter was that he was Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son.

…and you’d killed him.

John B was the first to die.

…and maybe that was why the horrible truth didn’t even cross your mind then.

Your sleep-addled brain fought hard to make sense of the words pouring out of Cleo’s mouth, and despite how unbelieving they were, the feminine wails you could hear in the background told you they were true whether you wanted them to be or not. Sarah’s choked sobs were the last thing you heard before Cleo was forced to hang up.

You didn’t even remember throwing on clothes, only knowing that you somehow managed to leave the house looking halfway decent.

When you made it to the hospital, Sarah was nowhere to be found.

“She was…” Kie trailed off, shaking her head. “They had to give her something.”

You took in the way Kiara was shaking, and unable to keep standing, she collapsed in a chair. You wanted to ask her what happened, but you could see it on her face that she couldn’t handle that, right now. Her eyes were shiny and glazed over, and she looked like she was going to be sick. She looked like she could barely even breathe.

“What…? I don’t…”

You couldn’t get it out, feeling wholly numb as your gaze met Cleo’s. The dark-skinned girl ran her hands down her face, her own gaze tearful.

“They found him in the water, man.”

Her soft words made your heart sink, and you frowned.

“Said he got tangled up somehow… Drowned.”

At that, you did finally sit down, reaching out to hold the armrest. Somehow, any other cause of death would’ve made it feel less real, preposterous maybe. You just couldn’t see John B. dying at the hands of some asshole or choking on his food or run down like a dog in the street.

…but drowning?

John B. dying in the water—a place he loved and often frequented—made sense.

That you could believe.

“Pope and JJ are on the way,” Kie mumbled so low you almost didn’t hear her.

Nothing about any of this felt real. It was only yesterday that you were talking to John B., tossing a beer at his head after some slick remark. You couldn’t quite process that you’d never be able to do that again. Your best friend was gone. Sarah’s boyfriend was gone, and you wouldn’t see nor talk to him again. It didn’t make sense, and maybe that lack of reason was what kept you numb, kept you staring at the white floors of the hospital until two familiar figures made themselves known.

It wasn’t until your eyes lifted and met JJ’s did it really hit you.

The pain in his face from losing the friend he’d known practically since birth seeped into you too, and you were on your feet before JJ’s legs could fail him. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight for both of your sakes, and your tears finally spilled over when you felt JJ’s hitting your skin.

You never really saw JJ cry much—it just wasn’t like him. You didn’t know if that was just the way he was or if he took it upon himself to be the obligatory goofy friend who was almost always in a good mood. Today, however, JJ cried harder than you’d ever seen him, the death of his best friend a thousand times worse than anything Luke could do to him.

He held you like a lifeline, even well into the night when everyone was forced to retreat to their homes, nothing more anyone could do. Even if JJ could find some comfort in his own home, you wouldn’t dare ask him to, feeling that same refusal to be alone. You had only been able to shake your head at your mom when she came to see if you wanted—needed—anything.

You didn’t miss the way her sad and heavy gaze fell to JJ in your arms, the blond boy sobbing into your chest as you held him on your bed.

Neither of you talked for what felt like days. There really wasn’t much to say, anyway. On the off chance that JJ moved, it was purely to use the bathroom or eat something that would keep him off the brink of starvation. You couldn’t really tell if you were handling it better than him or if you were just coping in an equally unhealthy way.

There was just this understanding that grief had kind of taken both of your voices.

JJ leaned on you throughout the entirety of John B.’s funeral, and when your eyes met Pope’s, you shook your head at the silent question in his dark eyes. They flitted to JJ at that, and you weren’t surprised to see them holding each other at the end of the service. John B. was like a brother to both of them, and maybe they could help each other in ways the rest of you couldn’t.

“Why was he out there so late?”

That was what Kie wondered as you all sat at The Chateau, still fighting to understand your new reality without John B. only hours after his funeral.

“We all always go swimming whenever,” you told her, and she shook her head.

“…but never that late…and if so, never alone,” she argued, looking at all of you. “They think he died around one in the morning. There was no alcohol or anything in his system. Why would John B. be out there at one in the morning?”

“What does it matter?” JJ spat, making you flinch. “Why are we sitting here trying to analyze this when John B. is dead? Huh?”

Kie looked taken aback, and you could see her mentally reminding herself that JJ was in pain.

“I’m just saying-.”

“No, I know what you’re trying to do.”

The blond was standing, now, angrily staring down at her.

“Trying to make sense of this, trying to find something or someone to blame because that’s easier to swallow than the truth,” he nastily threw at her. “John B.’s death doesn’t make sense…and sometimes that’s just life.”

He stormed off before anyone could respond, and you swallowed at the sound of his bike starting up. You took Kie’s hand at the sight of her forlorn expression, gently squeezing it and sending her a smile. JJ was angry, probably angrier than any of you, and he wasn’t keen on how Kie was trying to deal with it either. The silence after he left was thick, and you felt almost afraid to speak your mind too, because now that Kie had said it, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It didn’t make sense for John B. to be out in the water that late.

You shouldn’t have been surprised when JJ kissed you only a few days after John B.’s funeral, but you were.

You all were grieving, and besides Sarah who hadn’t left her home in days, JJ wasn’t coping well. He was so angry and confused and hurt, and truthfully, you’d just been happy he wasn’t going off on some bender or starting fights. He didn’t exactly grow up with the best example on how to cope with anything, and so when he pressed his lips to yours on your front porch, you could only think that there were worse ways to handle this.

Your breathing was uneven as he ran his hands over you, backing you up into your house. Your parents weren’t home, adulthood stopping for no one in the midst of tragedy, and you held onto JJ to keep from tripping over your own feet. You’d wondered what it’d feel like to kiss JJ sometimes, but only ever in passing, and you could count the number of times on one hand. It was bound to happen at least once or twice when you were friends for as long as you had been.

The kiss was rough but not unenjoyable, and you moaned into his mouth when your back met your couch. To your surprise, you liked the feel of JJ’s body on yours, keeping you trapped between him and the couch, and the blond sighed into the kiss when your fingers ran up his back, dipping beneath his shirt. When his lips ghosted along your jaw, your gaze landed on the ceiling, and you arched your chest up into his. His lips were pressing open mouth kisses to your throat, and when your gaze roamed—landing on the window behind him—you violently flinched.

“What’s wrong-?”

JJ cut his own words off when you sat up, lips parted as you stared at the window.

It was dark, and the longer you stared outside, the sillier you felt. Your heart was racing so fast—much too fast—and for a moment, you were scared you were having a heart attack. You felt overheated, and your skin was fighting to get back to normal instead of clammy. JJ said your name again, and you merely shook your head at him, struggling to stop your hands from trembling and your vision from swaying.

For just a moment, you could’ve sworn that someone was outside and standing right outside of that window. It was brief, quite literally a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment, but it wasn’t solely that that had you fighting to calm down, right now. You reached up, rubbing your chest and blinking back tears, hardly paying attention to JJ’s concern.

The way the person stood—their height, their build, their stance—it was all too familiar.

It looked eerily similar to your ex-boyfriend.

That thought had you standing, and you pressed your hand to your forehead. A few tears escaped without your consent, and you licked your lips, finally admitting to yourself why this whole John B. situation had you numb. The thought of John B. now had your chest aching, and for a brief moment, you weren’t seeing your best friend be lowered into the ground.

It was Rafe.

“Are you okay…?”

You finally acknowledged JJ, and you looked at him with a tearful gaze.

“No, I don’t think I am,” you choked out. “It’s not…it’s not your fault, I promise.”

“I shouldn’t have done that-.”

“No, JJ, it’s okay! You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured him. “I’m just not handling this as well as I thought I was.”

He seemed to understand that, nodding at you.

The silence wasn’t tense or anything, but it was a little awkward. After all, one moment you and JJ were clearly about to have sex, and now, you couldn’t get rid of the cold chill that came over you. You glanced at the window again, so sure that you’d seen someone there, only looking away when JJ pulled you down to sit with him.

“You know I like you,” he whispered, making your eyes widen a bit. “Well, now you know.”

You blinked at him, oddly thinking that whatever this was tonight was some combination of grief and loneliness and the result of a violent confrontation with his own mortality. JJ ran his hand through his blond locks, sighing.

“First it was the whole Pogue on Pogue thing,” he said to which you snorted, recalling the day Pope and Cleo waltzed into The Chateau holding hands. “…then it was Rafe.”

You looked down at that, tightening your arms around yourself at the mention of your ex.

“Then Rafe went missing, and it didn’t seem right even though you didn’t seem…sad about it.”

You swallowed at that, a wet and muddy night coming to mind.

“…but now my best friend is dead, and I’m scared that if I wait another minute, it’ll be too late.”

Your gaze softened at that, looking at him, and it really didn’t take you long to realize that deep down you’d liked JJ too. You first noticed the feeling after the third or fourth time Rafe had hit you, and you just remembered thinking that JJ would never. You hadn’t lingered on it, but now you were wishing you had. Maybe if you felt like you had a way out, you would’ve left Rafe sooner. The relationship might not have continued.

…and that night never would’ve happened.

With the death of John B., you understood exactly what JJ meant. John B. hadn’t been some old man pushing ninety who lived this long and fulfilling life. He was eighteen, unable to even get the chance to start. It was unexpected and heartbreaking but most of all scary, so when you took the blonde’s hand, you didn’t hesitate to pull him closer, pressing your lips to his.

You had no idea that while taking the first step with JJ into the second relationship you’d ever have, Pope’s body was being dumped in the water.

When you all collectively made the decision the next morning to go and see Sarah, no one thought too much of it when Pope didn’t answer. Sarah was allowed her solitude to grieve, you felt she was owed that, but none of you wanted your friend to deal with this alone for too long. Considering how early it was, everyone just assumed that he was still asleep when you decided to meet up.

JJ—now in the possession of the Twinkie—made the decision to slow down at the sight of so many squad cars near the water. It was strange, and there was a sinking feeling in your stomach that you just couldn’t shake. Outer Banks was not without its fair share of crime, but you’d never had the misfortune of witnessing a coroner’s van pull up to the scene.

“What do you think that’s about?” Cleo wondered.

You spoke without thinking.

“Call Pope again.”

You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you looked out of the window, and there was a beat of silence before they all reached for their phones at once. That twisted feeling only tightened when none of them got an answer. You didn’t voice your thoughts, partly because you didn’t want to be the one to, but you also didn’t want to make them true, somehow.

…but they were true whether you said them aloud or not.

You’d never been inside of an interrogation room—or Kildare County’s version of one, anyway. You never thought you would be, but in this moment, you were thinking of a lot of things you never thought would be. Shoupe—a man you’d grown used to seeing all your life—handed you a cup of water, and your fingertips only grazed it as it sat on the table.

With the discovery that Pope was now dead too, the numbness you’d felt was forced to crack and shatter. While Cleo had to be restrained and held back from ambushing the crime scene, you’d been unable to keep upright, collapsing right there on the side of the road. The entire gruesome debacle had attracted a crowd. After all, Outer Banks just wasn’t used to this, and several people tried to help you remain conscious—namely JJ.

You didn’t even remember breaking down, didn’t even remember being approached by the cops. You actually could barely remember a thing after witnessing a familiar body being pulled from the murky water. You knew that you cried, had to, because your eyes were tight. You knew that you screamed because your throat was raw. You knew these things because of how you felt…not because you actually remembered any of it.

Shoupe’s sigh made you blink, and instead of laying on the side of that road, you were surrounded by four walls.

“Do you know of…anyone who’d want to hurt Heyward’s son?”

His words gave you pause, and you lifted your gaze with a deep frown.

“…what?” you choked out after some time.

His gaze was soft—Pope was your friend and he’d watched you both grow up as thick as thieves—but also inquiring. You watched him briefly lick his lips, sighing to himself as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He seemed to be conflicted, having some kind of internal battle before reaching out to you across the table.

“Pope was dead before he was in the water.”

You merely blinked at him, not quite processing his words.

“Someone…someone cut his throat.”

At that, your vision blurred, and you could see on Shoupe’s face that he was predicting what was about to happen before you even tried to stand. The older man reached for you again, attempting to keep you from falling, but your feet tripped over one another as your legs lost their strength. When your knees hit the hard floor, your brain didn’t even register the pain.

Burying two friends within two weeks of each other was something you would’ve never predicted. Not until you were in your seventies, at least. It felt like the opposite of unreal. It felt too real because all you could feel was pain. It was numbing and excruciating all at once somehow, and having the whole town look at you like some walking magnet for tragedy didn’t help.

In truth, all of your friends got the stares. Two out of the group were gone—one drowned and one brutally murdered—and people looked at the rest of your friends like they didn’t know what to think of them…but you? Oh, they looked at you like they both feared and hated you, and you knew why.

It was only a year ago that your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had gone missing, and now two of your friends met the same fate everyone suspected Rafe did. There was something in their eyes that held blame, and you might have found it funny if you weren’t so angry and sad and miserable.

You were only responsible for one of them.

“No fingerprints, no footprints, no nothing,” Kie whispered, angrily. “It’s like Pope was just killed and dumped by a ghost.”

JJ was silent as he stared out into the rich girl’s yard, and you worriedly eyed him. Cleo too. It’s not like any of you were doing okay, but JJ had lost the two people he was closest to in the world, and Cleo was now in the same boat as Sarah. It was then that the blonde girl shifted, a noise leaving her throat that had you all looking over.

“Do I have to be the one to say what we’re all thinking?”

She looked between you all with a heavy gaze, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“That John B.’s accident wasn’t an accident…?”

Your lips parted at that, and you looked around to see that no one else had expected that either. No one else but Kie who simply wrapped her arms around herself. You recalled her words from last week, how she’d questioned why John B. was even out on the water that late. JJ had been so quick to shut it down, and despite having the same question as Kie, you’d also forced yourself to let it go.

You hadn’t wanted to fathom that someone had killed John B.

“Now, hold on-.”

“Oh, come on, JJ!” Sarah cried. “John B. drowns at one something in the morning, and a week later one of his best friends is murdered?”

You swallowed, hating this conversation.

“This is too coincidental,” she whispered, wiping her face.

The silence was loud as her accusation—and the implications that came with it—just hung in the air. You all looked between each other, and you could see it then. It was sinking in that this was too much of a coincidence, and Cleo spoke up.

“Why would anyone want to hurt them?”

“I think you mean why would anyone want to hurt us,” Kie threw out, and you all froze. “If someone did kill John B. and that same person killed Pope…isn’t it safe to assume they’re working their way through the group?”

You stood, really hating this conversation now, and stared out into the yard.

“I mean, what? Only John B. and Pope happened to piss this person off?”

“That’s even if what you’re saying is true,” JJ argued, visibly disturbed, now. “I mean, think about this. Who the hell did all of us piss off this damn bad? Huh? That doesn’t make any sense.”

It was then that your gaze met Cleo’s, and something passed through her eyes that you also knew passed through yours. You didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that the other girl was thinking about that night, recalling a bloodstained carpet and shovels that would never see the light of day. Your lips parted as your gaze lowered, and feeling like you might be sick, you sat down. No. There was nothing you could think of that all of you had done to collectively anger someone this much. However, there was something that came to mind that four of you had done.

…but Rafe was dead.

He’d been dead for a year, and so what Cleo was obviously thinking was clearly not possible.

Even with that fact, it still didn’t prevent you from being terrified, and it was no surprise that none of you wanted to be alone. Even if John B.’s accident was just that, someone had still killed Pope, and Outer Banks now had a murderer in their midst. If people looked at you with disdain before, then it was nothing in comparison to when a curfew was enforced.

“First it was Rafe…”

You tensed at the sound of the voice.

“…then John B. and now Pope.”

You cut your eyes to Kelce as he walked by you.

“We don’t need a curfew. What we need is to search your damn house,” he sneered, turning his back to you as he strode away.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for Sarah to exit the shop. You knew that Kelce wasn’t alone in his sentiment. It was only just the day before when your eyes had met Topper’s, the blonde’s gaze unreadable despite the clenching of his jaw. Topper was never the kind of guy to evoke intimidation, but that was before he thought you had something to do with the disappearance of his best friend.

When Rafe went missing, you were questioned. It was expected. After all, you weren’t just his girlfriend but also the girlfriend who everyone knew he would literally get crazy about. Your rocky off-and-on relationship was no secret, so naturally you were the first to be brought in. The police hadn’t been able to find anything though, not then and not for the past year, so any suspicions anyone might’ve had were probably long forgotten about.

Until now.

The only difference was that now not only did they think you killed Rafe, but also your best friends.

“They’re assholes. You know that,” Sarah told you as she drove you back to her place.

The Cameron household was where you’d been staying when you weren’t at home with JJ. Ever since that night, something in you felt wrong about accepting the Cameron’s hospitality and even setting foot into their house. That night was complicated, this much was true, but the fact remained that you were responsible for their pain. Ward would never be reunited with his son because of you.

Smiling in their faces and eating at their table left a sour feeling in your gut.

“…but I did kill Rafe,” you whispered.

Sarah glanced at you at that.

“We all did,” she finally said. “…and it wasn’t like that. He was choking you, he was…he was killing you. It was self-defense.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the cops will think rolling him up and burying him in the woods was self-defense,” you scoffed.

Sarah was parked in her yard, now, and she gripped your arm. Her expression was hard as she stared at you, lips pressed together.

“Stop that,” she bit out. “Rafe… Rafe wasn’t going to stop. We had no choice, and do I sometimes wish things had ended differently for him and for us? Yeah. Even the most estranged of siblings don’t actually want to kill each other, but what’s done is done.”

She looked between your eyes, and you swallowed, recalling that silent conversation with Cleo. You licked your lips, touching your forehead and swallowing down a sigh.

“What if it’s not done?” you wondered, almost inaudibly.

When you looked at Sarah again, there was a frown on her face.

“We definitely know of someone who’d want us dead,” you whispered, and you watched the color drain from Sarah’s face.

“…and he’s dead.”

“…but what if he’s not?” you choked out. “What if…? I mean, sure, there was blood and we hit him twice and we buried him, but what if-.”

“Stop,” Sarah breathed, resting her hands on the wheel. “Stop talking.”

“Sarah-.”

“I said stop!”

The blonde girl looked visibly distressed, eyes wide and lips trembling as she stared ahead.

“We killed him. He’s dead…and he can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

Sarah sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than you. You could see how upsetting this conversation was for her, and again, you wished that night had gone differently. Getting your friends caught up in your relationship problems was your biggest regret, and no matter how many times they insisted they’d never take it back, it did nothing to ease your guilt.

Repeating Sarah’s words in your mind, you put thoughts of Rafe behind you.

You were having a horrifying case of déjà vu.

Around this time a year ago, you were also out in the middle of the woods at night, repeatedly stabbing at the dirt with a shovel. It had just rained then, and the ground had been wet—soft. You’d been less calm then, but also somehow less terrified than you were, now. A year ago, it had been four of you digging a hole.

Tonight, it was three.

Sticking together was the plan. Even if you didn’t collectively agree on it, there was the thought in all of your minds that someone was after you. Even JJ, who was in denial, didn’t turn down Sarah’s offer to sleep over at her place. Any other time where Rose and Ward would’ve vehemently opposed several Pogues taking up residence in their house, they were now a lot more welcoming.

Any doubt that you were being hunted like animals was nowhere to be found the night you discovered Cleo’s body.

The four of you were sleeping in Sarah’s room—JJ in the guest room right next door—when you heard the faintest thump. It seemed like forever ago, but in the night, it was oddly reminiscent of the day of Rose’s fall festivity or whatever—before John B. died. You recalled the noise you’d heard that day, your open window, and where you had written both of those things off, you now looked back in fear.

You’d sat up, rubbing your eyes and looking around. Noticing Cleo’s absence, you told yourself that she was getting something to drink or going to the bathroom. However, your effort to lay back down was halted when you heard it again—a faint thump from downstairs that made your hair stand on end for some reason. Glancing at your remaining best friends, you pushed yourself to your feet.

“Cleo?”

Your kept your voice low as you stood at the top of the stairs, not wanting to unnecessarily wake the whole house. Only silence met you, and you frowned. The stillness of the house felt heavy, suffocating, and it unnerved you. It was just moments ago that it wasn’t so silent, and you walked back to Sarah’s room.

Glancing inside, there was still no sign of Cleo, and facing the fact that she wasn’t in the bathroom, you made your way downstairs.

The whole house was dark, and telling yourself that a light would be on if she was in the kitchen, you flipped the switch. An empty kitchen met you, as you expected, and your frown deepened. Walking back to the staircase, you looked up, a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach as you climbed them. There were only so many places that she could be, and wondering if you’d missed her somehow, you checked all of the bathrooms. She wasn’t back in Sarah’s room either.

As you stood in the hallway, the complete darkness made you freeze.

It didn’t register, at first, and you stood there wracking your brain. Goosebumps completely covered your skin, now, and as you stared ahead, something in the back of your mind was screaming at you—sending off alarm bells. Something about this picture wasn’t right, and once it clicked, your heart sank to your gut.

There was no light coming from downstairs.

The kitchen light was now off.

Stumbling into Sarah’s room, you shook her and Kie awake.

“What, what?” the tan girl mumbled, Sarah’s huff coming from behind you.

“Something’s wrong,” you said, words tumbling over each other. “I can’t find Cleo.”

Both of them were wide awake, now, and Kie was frowning at you when Sarah turned her light on.

“What…?” she asked, disbelieving.

You tried to keep calm.

“I heard something, and I saw Cleo was gone, but she’s not in the bathroom, and she’s not downstairs,” you rushed out.

Sarah was still for half a second before she ran out of the room. While Kie went with her, you took it upon yourself to wake JJ, and once past his confusion, he was right on your heels as you made your way downstairs too. Kie was looking out the windows while Sarah searched each room.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” JJ said. “Don’t you guys have some alarm code or something? It’s not like she could’ve left without waking the whole house.”

JJ was right.

“So, what? You’re saying she’s still in the house? Hiding and playing some sick joke?” Sarah wondered, visibly stressed and scared. “That’s insane.”

You wondered if you should speak up about the kitchen light, about how someone had blatantly turned it off when you went upstairs. That car conversation with Sarah was on your mind, and your vision swam for a bit as you fought to keep upright. It might not be Cleo, but someone was definitely playing some sick joke.

“I’m going to wake my dad,” Sarah breathed. “This…this isn’t right.”

As she made to go upstairs, you slowly made your way to the back door. You stared out of the windows, scanning the yard for anything that might make sense of all this. The yard was empty, and you could hear JJ and Kie behind you as they talked and tried to make sense of what was going on. Too busy scanning the trees and what you could see of the neighbors, your gaze was focused much too high.

When you saw her, you wanted to be sick.

“Oh my God,” you choked out. “Oh my God, oh my God!”

You were scrambling to unlock the door before JJ or Kie could question you, and the house alarm was loud as you threw the door open. The grass was dewy and slippery, and you quite literally fell a few times before you reached her. You collapsed right next to her, and Kie’s scream was even louder than yours once she fully registered what she was seeing.

Your arms shook as you held Cleo’s broken body, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you were too busy trying not to choke on your own sobs, you might’ve been screaming too. You could feel JJ’s hands on your shoulders as he tried to get you to let her go, but you felt possessed.

You couldn’t not hold her.

By now the rest of the household was outside too, and you could hear Rose on the phone, frantic and horrified. Mr. Cameron’s voice was in your ear as he too tried to get you to let her go. You couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you were hurting her any more—she was dead. Any hope for otherwise died the moment your wide eyes met her equally wide ones, dark gaze focused on the sky above. You felt like the least you could do was hold her—some kind of apology for not finding her sooner.

You were only convinced when the police showed up, Shoupe practically begging you to.

“We have to take her, now,” he said to you, his eyes meeting yours. “We have to do right by her and try and figure out what happened. You want that, don’t you?”

You remembered just staring at him, lips parted and chest heavy, before finally letting her go. JJ was quick to pull you beside him, his own hands trembling as he held you close. You knew that it was partly for you and partly for him. You completely leaned on him, feeling like you were moments away from fainting.

Especially so when you glanced up…your eyes landing on the open window of the second-floor bathroom.

You weren’t surprised the next day when you were face to face with Shoupe again and he said:

“She broke her neck.”

That wasn’t news to you. You found her…you held her, after all. You saw what she looked like, so his words were expected. His next, however, were not.

“Now, that could’ve happened when she fell…or it could’ve happened before.”

Your gaze lifted then, watching the older man heave a sigh and lean in closer across the table. His gaze was completely serious, lips pressed together and jaw clenched. He clasped his hands together as he regarded you.

“Now…I asked you this before when we pulled Pope out of that water…”

You swallowed.

“…and you gave me your answer then, and I believed you, but now I’m asking again.”

Tears kissed your eyes.

“…and depending on how you answer, I may not believe you this time.”

Dark blond hair and blue eyes filled your vision, a smooth and almost raspy baritone bouncing around between your ears. For just a moment, you weren’t in that room face to face with Shoupe. You were one year younger and rolling a lithe frame up in a bloody carpet. You and three other girls were carrying it to a familiar truck, determined to bury it where no one would ever find it. Even before Shoupe asked his question, that was all you could see.

…and yet, when he asked if you knew of anyone who’d want to hurt you and your friends, you still told him no.

That was two weeks ago, and now you were back in the woods…in a familiar spot…hoping to dig up a familiar face.

“This is insane, you know that, right?” Sarah spat, huffing as she stabbed at the dirt again.

“Look around!” Kie yelled, her voice bouncing off of the trees. “Three of our friends are dead! They’re dead, and you know what? When the cops asked if I knew of anyone who’d want to hurt them, I almost told them Rafe.”

You and Sarah paused at that, staring at her.

“Can you believe that? That sounds crazy, right because Rafe is dead, and..” she threw her arm up. “I would know!”

She was breathing hard, fighting to keep it together.

“…but Cleo was pushed. We all know that she didn’t fall. She was pushed, shoved, thrown, however you want to call it! Her neck was broken…and you all can say that it happened when she hit the ground, but I just don’t believe that.”

“Unless you’re saying one of us did it…” Sarah shrugged. “Someone would have to know the alarm code to not only turn it off, open the window, and toss her out…but also turn it back on as soon as they did it.”

“Sound like anyone we know?” Kie sarcastically wondered, pointedly looking at the ground beneath them.

There was a brief pause between you three as the horrifying possibility set in. Sarah was right. The requirements to pull something like that off fell to any of you, and you knew for a fact that none of you would ever, and so that was where Kie’s suspicions came in. Determined to face the truth one way or another, you continued to dig.

It felt so silly, attempting to dig up a man you’d most assuredly killed. You still had nightmares some nights about the feel of Rafe wrapping both hands around your neck, squeezing so tight that you were sure your neck would snap at any moment. Even when Sarah and Cleo had walked in, shocked and horrified at the sight before them, he hadn’t stopped.

He’d only been focused on killing you.

As you dug, you could remember their screams and the sound of them hitting him and trying to get him off. Nothing had worked, even when Kie came in, attempting to jump on his back. You didn’t know if it was the coke or alcohol that night that made him so determined to kill you regardless of witnesses. Either way, for your sake, you needed Rafe to be in this grave.

You could handle a lot of things, but you couldn’t handle Rafe still being out there.

“I don’t think we have the right spot,” Kie finally said after some time.

You yourself had briefly thought the same, but you remembered that night like the back of your hand. This was the right spot, and the longer you kept being greeted with dirt and more dirt, you could feel an internal panic setting in. Sarah stopped digging after Kie, but you kept going. You had to…because he had to be here.

“Y/N…”

“He’s here,” you breathed. “He has to be.”

Right now, there was only the sound of you frantically digging, and you hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until a sob bubbled up in your chest. You could hear Sarah calling your name again, but you paid her no mind, tossing the shovel aside and falling to your knees. You clawed at the dirt, looking for any sign of bone or clothing or even the damn rug!

“Y/N-,”

“No,” you screamed, throat hurting. “He has to be here, he has to be here.”

You felt like you were going to throw up, nails chipping and breaking as they only came in contact with dirt and sticks and rocks. Hitting your fist against the ground, you screamed again, this one dying into a fit of sobs. You felt Kie’s hands on your shoulders, and you struggled to breathe.

“This can’t be happening,” you heard Sarah breathe.

You pressed your face into your dirty hands, inconsolable as you were forced to face the truth.

“This doesn’t mean he’s alive,” Kie whispered. “Someone…someone else could know. I don’t know how, but it could be anyone else doing this, somebody who dug him up and is messing with us.”

“Or it could be Rafe!”

Your vision was blurry as you looked at her.

“It could be Rafe who wasn’t actually dead when we buried him. It could be Rafe killing my friends and torturing me and coming back to finish what he started!”

You pressed your forehead against the dirt, hunched over as the most awful wailing noise left you. You felt insane, like nothing in the world made sense, and you could hardly stand when Kie pulled you to your feet. If Rafe was still alive…your life as you knew it was over. You struggled to walk as Sarah put the shovels in the trunk, and when she closed it, she just stood there, hand pressed to the top with the other on her hip.

“So, what do we do? Do we go to the police and tell them that Rafe is doing this?”

“…and when they ask why?” Kie wondered, holding you upright. “What do we say? Y/N didn’t want to be with him anymore, so he ran off and came back a year later to kill her and her friends?”

You completely sank against the car, forehead pressed to the vehicle.

“…or better yet, what happens when we tell them we think Rafe is behind this only for his body to turn up? If everyone isn’t suspicious of us now—and they’re pretty fucking suspicious—they’ll definitely be then.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled after some time, continuing when you felt their gazes on you. “I’m so  sorry.”

“What-?”

“This is my fault,” you choked out, forcing yourself to straighten. “I should’ve left him the first time he hurt me. I should’ve…should’ve told someone, I should have called the police.”

“Y/N, this isn’t your fault,” Sarah argued.

“Yes, it is,” you cried, attempting to wipe your face and only succeeding in putting more dirt on it. “You hit him to get him off of me, but… I didn’t have to hit him again. I didn’t have to do that. He was already passing out, and I could’ve just called the cops and-.”

“…and deal with Rafe again when he was inevitably released?” Kie threw out. “Look, Sarah, your family is okay and all, but let’s face it. Rafe would not have stayed in jail long, if at all with Ward backing him up with his money.”

Neither of you argued against that, and your gaze found the ground.

“We need to get back,” Sarah said in a small voice. “It’s way past curfew, and if someone catches us out here, we’ll be even bigger suspects than we already are.”

Sarah was right, and when it became apparent that you needed help moving your feet, she guided you to the passenger side. Kie settled in the backseat, and all of you were quiet, minds no doubt occupied with the possibilities of what tonight meant. Either Rafe wasn’t dead…or someone knew what you did and was getting even on his behalf.

When Sarah turned the car on, the lights shined into the trees before you. You lifted your head, gaze landing in front of the car, and your lips parted. You blinked at the trees, eyes narrowing when Sarah turned on her brights, putting the car in reverse. There’d been a split moment when Sarah’s lights came on—and your gaze wasn’t lifted all the way—that you thought you saw something next to one of the trees.

It looked like a person, standing and watching, but they were gone so quickly that you knew you had to have imagined it. The discovery of Rafe’s empty grave was getting to you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself. It seemed farfetched that Rafe hadn’t actually been dead that night. Murder weapons and such aside, you’d buried him, and how likely was it that he’d woken up to claw his way out instead of simply suffocating and bleeding to death?

It made more sense that this was someone else’s doing, but even still…

Despite burying him yourself, you never felt like Rafe was truly gone.

With three of your friends dead, the remaining four of you were not only being watched like hawks, but also refused to barely leave each other’s sides. Despite the fact that the police still couldn’t determine if Cleo’s death was murder or an accident, the popular opinion seemed to be the former. Walking through Outer Banks as everyone’s main suspect made a place that used to feel like home unbearable.

Deep down though, some part of you felt you deserved it.

Yes, Rafe was abusive and horrible, but it wasn’t up to you to play God. It wasn’t your place to determine whether or not he deserved to live, deserved to see his family again or redeem himself or go on to be even worse. That wasn’t your call, and despite how much relief you felt when you buried Rafe that night, something in you wanted to be punished for what you’d done.

…but not like this.

You never wanted this to come back on your friends and their family. Looking in the faces of their parents and now knowing this was all directly because of you was heartbreaking. Even if it wasn’t Rafe stalking the streets of Outer Banks and picking your friends off one by one, it was clearly someone doing so for him in some weird way. This all came back to Rafe, you just knew it.

…and they were trying to mess with your head in the process.

What else would they get out of moving his remains?

Considering what happened at Sarah’s house, it came as no surprise that the next spot of choice was Kie’s. It wasn’t without difficulty, and you recalled the way both of her parents huffed and puffed as she fought to convince them. You didn’t disagree with their reasoning. After all, you didn’t need to be a genius to know they were wary of you on some level. Too many people around you had died and gone missing.

They just didn’t want the same for Kie…and you wished you’d listened.

“We could leave,” JJ said to you in one of the Carrera’s guest rooms, hand clasped with yours. “I didn’t really want to believe it before but…”

JJ heaved a sigh.

“Someone’s after us for some reason,” he relented. “…and since we have no idea who or even why… Why not just take off?”

He shrugged at you, and guilt ate at you for a whole other reason these days. After Cleo’s death—and the traumatic night in which you discovered Rafe’s grave was empty—you grappled with the thought of telling JJ the truth. He deserved to know why his friends were dead, and why he had a target on his back. You even started to one day.

…but then you thought about him knowing this was all your fault…and blaming you too. You didn’t think you had the stomach or the strength to look him in the face and tell him that your actions that night came back on half of your friends. You didn’t want to face his reaction, and so you swallowed it down.

“I would if I could,” you told him. “…but aside from just how fucking guilty that would make me and us look…my parents are here. Even if they weren’t and we left, I don’t think that would make this stop. Sarah’s here, Kie is here, and whoever is doing this clearly wants all of our heads. They’re not going to give up just because some of us leave.”

You couldn’t stomach the thought of just taking off and leaving Kie and Sarah to fend for themselves. JJ nodded at that, understanding, and you closed your eyes when he reached for your face. You placed your own hand over his, and something clenched deep in your chest. It was so unfair that the moment you and JJ finally decided to stop being cowards, someone put a bounty on your heads.

Even if you made it out of this alive, how could you ever look back on the beginning of your relationship with anything other than grief and trauma? The two of you got together because of John B.’s death and any attempt to try and heal and make something good of this was ruined by the subsequent deaths of Pope and Cleo.

“Do you think this has something to do with Rafe?”

JJ’s question gave you pause, and you pulled back, staring at him with a frown. His expression was entirely serious, telling you that you had not in fact imagined his words. When you blinked at him, you watched him run his hand through his blond locks, the fair hair still damp from his shower.

“I know you killed him,” he confessed.

Your lips parted in shock, and you fought to make sense of what was happening. Disbelieving, you pushed yourself to your feet, looking down at your boyfriend. His gaze was soft, and you watched him exhale, slowly reaching for you.

“Wha…? What do you mean you know? What are-?”

“I overheard you guys talking about it…what…? Maybe three months after it happened?”

You looked away, slowly shaking your head. When you looked at him, there was no malice or disgust in his gaze, and you felt confused.

“I never said anything because I figured you wouldn’t like anyone else knowing,” he whispered.

JJ didn’t look bothered at all, and for some reason that threw you for a loop. Once his hand was back in yours, he tugged you until you sat down with him again. He took your moment of shock to lean in and kiss you—slow and gentle, and his thumb brushed your skin as he pulled away.

“I know what you’re thinking…”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone,” you wondered, more of a statement, voicing your thoughts and confirming his assumption.

“…because Rafe was horrible to you, and not in that generic asshole boyfriend way, but…really horrible,” he told you. “The way he talked to you and treated you in public was disguising to witness, so it wasn’t hard to guess how much worse he was behind closed doors.”

You felt yourself deflating, hating that JJ had to come to grips with that terrifying truth.

“You don’t know how bad I hated him for treating you like that, how much I wanted to beg you to leave him, but you wouldn’t,” he spat, anger in his voice as he thought about the past. “You wouldn’t even come to any of us, and I just thought it wasn’t my place.”

You hadn’t realized how much of your tumultuous relationship with Rafe had been bleeding into other parts of your life almost since the beginning.

“I started to lose my mind over it, you know…just wondering if I was bad for not telling or bad for thinking about telling, but…”

He let out a humorless chuckle, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Plenty of times I thought about killing Rafe myself, so why would I hate you for having the balls to do what I could only fantasize about?”

You held JJ’s gaze, feeling shocked but also oh so light. You felt relieved that JJ knew, and you’d no longer have to carry around this guilt, but at the same time… You hated that JJ had been carrying this around for months—almost a year. Unlike you and the girls, JJ didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, forced to carry the burden of your secret alone…and you hated that. You hated yourself for that.

Your eyes burned with tears, and you just pressed your lips to his when a blood-curdling scream made you wince.

You and JJ looked at each other for half a second before he hurried out of the room with you right behind him. The screams didn’t stop, echoing throughout the house and mixing in with harsh sobs. There was a knot twisting in your gut, a feeling of dread washing over you like a cold shower. You and JJ took the stairs almost two at a time, and when you both made it to the living room, you paused in your tracks.

Kie had her hands over her mouth, but it was useless—she couldn’t stop screaming and crying. Sarah stood by the couch, frozen in shock, and you didn’t miss what her wide and stricken eyes were focused on. Mr. and Mrs. Carrera were sitting on the couch, facing the blasting TV as they had been for God knows how long. However, something about their posture was off, and when you slowly brushed by JJ to join Sarah…you realized why.

Blood covered the entire front of them both, eyes open and unseeing, mouths open in mid-scream.

Their throats were slit.

Before the horror of what this meant could even settle in, the power in the house went out, bathing you in darkness. The lights from the neighbors and the street were not enough, and you heard Sarah telling Kie to get up. JJ’s hand was on your arm as he pulled you along too, all four of you heading for the door.

Sarah only just opened it when you heard her let out a choked gasp.

She was still, and you worriedly eyed her.

“Sarah?” JJ called her name. “Sarah, what’s…?”

He trailed off, his words dying in the air as Sarah stumbled back. She fell against Kie, and the other girl fought to catch her as the blonde reached up towards her chest. With what little light you had, your eyes focused on what she was gesturing to. Your entire vision swayed once you saw the knife protruding from it.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, and JJ yanked you back away from the door.

You in turn yanked Kie who was forced to let Sarah go. The sound of her body dropping made you wince. Unable to stay with her, the three of you now headed towards the back door. Behind you, you could hear the front door slamming shut, and the sound of it had bile rising in your throat.

The house was still dark, and besides your own heavy breathing, you heard the sound of footsteps coming from the living room. You were the first to make it to the door, hand on the knob when you heard the last thing you ever expected for some reason. The glass in front of you shattered, but your ears were ringing from the gunshot more than anything.

“Fuck,” you heard JJ curse, and you felt him wrap his arms around you, pulling you to the side.

You didn’t realize why until you looked back.

Kie was in a heap at the foot of the door, her blood decorating the remaining glass in the window and the floor too. She was completely still, and the knowledge that two more of your friends were dead within just minutes of each other had you ready to faint. Despite that, with JJ’s help, you were able to keep your feet moving.

He pulled you into the hallway that connected to the kitchen, and on the other side of the wall, you could hear the slow and heavy footsteps. When the crunch of glass was heard, JJ pulled you further along towards the kitchen—towards the front of the house. You were shaking as you slid along the wall, and when the footsteps stopped, so did JJ.

You both were completely still as you waited and listened. Both of your phones were upstairs in the guest room, but you recalled Sarah reaching for hers when she opened the door. It had to still be near her, provided that whoever was in the house hadn’t taken it. JJ seemed to have the same idea as you, because he slowly moved through the kitchen and towards the front door.

A gunshot stopped his efforts.

“Go, go,” JJ hissed, pushing you away from him so harshly that you stumbled and fell back.

You were half in the kitchen half in the hallway when a figure approached the blond who was now also on the floor, clutching his side. You frantically crawled back, vision blurring from your tears just as they stood over him. Your back was pressed to the wall, staring at the one before you with quiet sobs when you heard it.

JJ’s gasps were loud and pained as he was attacked. One, two…seventeen, you counted. You thought to yourself how angry and evil someone has to be to stab someone else seventeen times. You kept your hand pressed to your mouth the entire time, fighting the urge to be sick. When you could no longer hear JJ, you squeezed your eyes shut.

A defeated feeling washed over you, and it was the feeling of being utterly alone.

You could hear those terrifying footsteps again, and when it sounded like they were coming near you from the other side, you sprinted for the door.

Refusing to look at the bodies of your friends, you fought to run across the street. The neighbor’s lights were on, and your legs burned as you pushed yourself as fast as you could. You refused to look back—too scared to—and you practically collapsed at their door as you banged on it. Some of Kie’s blood was on you, and it marred the door as you repeatedly hit it like a woman possessed.

“Open the door, please, please,” you screamed, looking over your shoulder.

You couldn’t see anyone, but you weren’t fooled. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you from completely collapsing on this stranger’s porch. You were beating their door so hard that your fists were beginning to ache, and your throat scratched from your screams—strained and raw. When the door finally swung open, you quite literally fell inside.

“What in the world-? Oh my goodness,” a small voice said from over you.

Small and brittle hands helped you to your feet, and you felt bad at almost knocking her over in your efforts to make sure no one was behind you. You slammed the door shut and locked it, chest heaving and feeling much too tight. You were sure that you were almost on the verge of a heart attack. You had to be.

“Sweetheart,” the old lady called. “Call the police!”

She took your hands, guiding you to the kitchen where she grabbed a rag.

“He killed them,” you sobbed, struggling to breathe. “My friends are dead.”

The words didn’t even sound real to you, like some nightmare you’d conjured up, but they were real. Your friends had been picked off one by one for weeks before the rest were finally taken from you in one night. You were alone, and that fact made you cry harder.

“The phone’s not working,” you heard another aged voice say.

You froze at that, looking up just as the woman wobbled to the kitchen entrance.

“What?” you breathed.

“What do you mean it’s not working?” she tutted, and you were quick to follow behind her.

She met up with a man who you assumed was her husband in the hallway, and he did a double take at the sight of you.

“Good lord,” he breathed. “What happened?”

“Never mind that,” she dismissed him, making her way past him. “My granddaughter bought me one of those smart phones, but I hardly ever use the thing. We’ll find that and then we’ll call the police, sweetheart.”

You didn’t want to let her out of your sight, terrified of being alone, but the elderly man reminded you of his presence. He guided you back into the kitchen with a strained but kind smile. You could tell that your presence worried him. You were in his house in the middle of the night covered in blood, after all.

“Thank you,” you managed to mumble when he handed you the damp rag.

The feel of Kie’s blood on you was both comforting and horrifying. Your friend wasn’t with you, but this small part of her was, but at the same time, it only reminded you of her gruesome and tragic death. The woman came back through the hallway, joining her husband in the living room, and you heard her mumbling something about hoping the cops would come quick when there was a knock on the door.

The sound of it made your stomach drop, and you stood in the kitchen, rag tight in your hand. What were the chances they’d be getting some friendly visit at this time of night? Right after all your friends were brutally murdered, and you were forced to seek refuge at this very house?

You’d only taken one step forward when you heard the door open, followed by a startled gasp. It happened quick, too quick for you to even process, and it wasn’t long before you could hear the woman’s husband yelping too, a loud thud reaching your ears. Before today, you didn’t know what it sounded like to stab someone or cut their throat. You stumbled back, eyes wide and heart so loud in your ears that it was all you could hear for a moment.

You felt so cold, and you had the shivers to prove it, and slowly but surely…you reached for the knife in the sink.

The house was so quiet, and you didn’t hear a single breath or footstep. Taking a hesitant step forward, you held the knife out in front of you, briefly squeezing your eyes shut. Stepping into the living room, you weren’t surprised to see the bodies of the poor couple who’d just tried to help you. Blood stretched from beneath them like a stream. You pressed your free hand to your mouth, swallowing down a sob.

You were surprised, however, to see an empty living room.

Your brain was completely empty, feeling like you were short-circuiting. You were being toyed with, that much was obvious, and your lips trembled as you slowly spun, fighting to see any sign of your tormentor. Slowly kneeling, you looked for the woman’s cellphone, and you had to swallow down a curse when you realized it was gone.

You stood in the living room, feeling like you were losing your mind with no idea of what to do next. You could run back across the street to Kie’s where you knew a phone was…or you could try another neighbor. A last resort of an option flitted through your mind, anger briefly filling you as you considered simply killing the person who did this.

The front porch creaked, and your gaze zeroed in on the door.

Backing up, you moved further into the house and further away from the door. You glanced over your shoulder, arm grazing the wall as you hid in the hallway. You could hear the door opening just as you disappeared around the corner, and as you slowly and quietly moved about the back of the house, you wanted to cry with the realization that they had no back door.

The house was so modest and quaint that you hadn’t even considered that possibility.

Tears of frustration and fear skipped down your face just as the upbeat tune of a whistle reached your ears. You didn’t know why, but something about it made you so angry. You were being played with, like a damn mouse in the grasp of some cat. How this person could snuff out life like it was nothing and be so giddy about it, you didn’t know. It disgusted you.

…and so the knife was tight in your hand as you stomped back towards the living room.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to die tonight, and you’d rather it be fighting and on your terms. The lifeless faces of your friends were all that plagued your thoughts, one after the other being taken from you so easily. As if they were nothing. You thought you were prepared for the person you’d grown to hate most in the world.

…but you weren’t prepared for the sight of Barry sprawled along the couch without a care in the world.

You actually came up short, stopping in your tracks in both shock and disbelief. You felt your lips part, and your hold on the knife wasn’t so firm, now, almost dropping it. A myriad of emotions hit you at once, none of them good, but the loudest and most prominent was…confusion.

You barely knew Barry, really only in passing. The only time you ever saw him was when you happened to be in Rafe’s truck when he needed to make some exchange, the dark-haired man always giving you a mockingly prissy wave. You never talked to him outside of pleasantries, and quite frankly you hated being around him. Somehow, he always managed to bring out the worst in Rafe, egging on any of Rafe’s disgusting behaviors.

He never called you by your name, it was always—

“Mrs. Country Club,” he drawled, that familiar cheeky half grin on his lips.

The gold in his mouth winked at you as you just stood there, and your stomach turned.

“Barry?” you breathed, and he simply raised his hands as if to say ‘the one and only’. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He raised his brows at that, pursing his lips together to fight off a smirk. You looked around, trying to make sense of this before taking a shaky breath.

“Why?” you spat, gaze meeting his unreadable one. “I don’t understand…”

Your words died in your throat, getting choked up.

“Why?”

He played with his hair, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why what…?”

“You’re not funny,” you sneered. “You’re not. Why? Why? Why?”

You screamed the last one, face wet with tears, and all the while he simply…smirked at you.

“How about this… I’ll answer yours if you answer mine,” he proposed, gesturing between you. “Did you feel bad when you dumped your boyfriend in the woods?”

His question made so much click, and you sighed, eyes briefly closing.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Somehow, someway, Topper and Kelce were like brothers to Rafe despite their differences, but Barry? You always hated how your ex-boyfriend managed to find a camaraderie in the dangerous drug dealer, both of them cut from the same psycho cloth. Only Barry could never go to the lengths Rafe did. At least, that was what you always thought…

The laugh that left you seemed to surprise both of you, and he blinked, brows raising again as he just…looked at you.

“That’s what this is about?” you breathed, voice shaking from anger and grief and disgust. “Revenge because I killed your bestie?”

Your tone was mocking, and all the while, Barry just stared at you.

“I guess psycho little rich boys must be hard to come by,” you spat. “Forgive me. Had I known you were going to take it so hard, I would’ve tried to make it look like some tragic accident instead.”

Again, he said nothing at all, and you recalled he’d asked you a question.

“…but to answer your question, no. I didn’t.”

The corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at that, smirk growing.

“Rafe treated me like his property, like he could do whatever he wanted to me…and best believe…he took full advantage,” you forced out. “That night it was him or me…and I chose me.”

The other man jutted his lip out a bit, nodding in a way that suggested he was almost impressed. You looked at the bodies of the poor couple who’d gotten caught up in your shit, and you wiped your face, more tears spilling over. You adjusted the knife in your hand, staring him down.

“So, are you going to try and kill me or what?”

He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at you.

“That’s what this whole thing has been about, right?” you threw your arms up. “Tormenting me, driving me crazy, taking my friends from me and saving me for last so I knew what was coming, right?”

His silence actually angered you, now, and you roughly exhaled through your nose.

“What are you waiting for?” you brokenly questioned, startled by the sound of his chuckle.

It was genuine.

“I am offended,” he laughed, hands grazing his chest as he sat up straight. “Do I seem like a bloodthirsty murderer to you? Come on, now, Mrs. Country Club. You know that’s not my style.”

His words confused you.

“Truthfully,” he said, resting his elbows on his knees, a half-smile on his lips. “I’m just here for the show.”

You were so startled by the tight grip on your wrist that you dropped the knife, your lifeline clattering to the floor with a loud clang. Another knife—a bigger one—was at your throat, and you sharply inhaled at the feel of cool metal to your skin. In your attempt to get away from the blade, you pressed yourself further into the chest at your back. His hand on your wrist briefly tightened, so bad that you cried out in pain, but the tears that poured over had nothing to do with that.

You heard his deep breaths, and it wasn’t because his lips were at your ear, but because you’d stopped breathing. You couldn’t feel your heart, an icy emptiness in your chest where it was supposed to be, and the noise that finally left your lips was a cross between a gasp and a cry. The knife at your throat pressed harder into your skin, feeling a slight sting there, but it was nothing in comparison to the feel of his face pressing into the area where your neck and shoulder met.

He deeply inhaled, and a shudder passed through you.

“Word of advice…”

You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice, hoping for anything other than what you accepted as the truth.

“…if you’re going to bury someone,” his lips were at your ear again, and his tone was chilling. “Make sure they’re actually dead.”

A sob finally escaped, and your tearful eyes rested on the ceiling.

“Unlike you, I don’t make that mistake.”

Revulsion filled you, and you were certain that now you really were going to be sick.

“When I set out to kill someone, I get the job done,” he purred, a kiss to your neck. “…but you know that better than anyone, baby.”

You couldn’t even describe the feeling of being in Rafe’s arms again. There was too much going on within you to pinpoint one feeling, but above all else, you knew that you felt fear. Not once had you ever been able to actually heal from Rafe’s abuse. He was the thing you feared most in the world…and then you killed him.

That wasn’t healing.

That was just getting rid of the problem, but the fear and inferiority complex and damage still remained. You were happier with him gone, and you’d mistakenly took that for healing, but now that he was back… Now that Rafe was alive and well and a thousand times worse than you knew him to be, all of that came back, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“What? Nothing to say for yourself?”

It was so hard to breathe, and you couldn’t answer Rafe’s question even if you wanted to.

“Nothing to say about how you hit me upside the head and buried me in the woods like a fucking dog?”

He shook you as he said this, and you cried out. Evidently, that made him angrier, and you soon found yourself thrown to the floor. Your legs landed in blood, and your attempt to crawl away was halted by Rafe’s hand in your hair. He yanked you back until you were on your knees, and when you reached up, his other hand had the knife at your throat.

“Oh, wait, that’s right. What was it you said? It came down to you…or me…?” he chuckled, purposefully nicking your neck. “…and you chose you…right?”

He shoved you again, and you struggled to get to the wall, leaning against it and finally facing him.

It actually hurt you to see that he was just as beautiful as the day you buried him. Of course, he was sober, now, but what did that count for when he also had half a dozen literal bodies under his belt now? Blood stained his shirt, so much of it, and you wondered how much of it belonged to your friends. Your lips trembled as he pushed his hair out of his face, his other hand still holding the bloody knife.

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he suddenly said although he didn’t sound sorry, at all.

Your face crumbled, and he chuckled.

“It wasn’t my intention for him to go like that, but…” he wiped blood off of his forehead. “I couldn’t quite get the image of him on top of you out of my head.”

Your eyes widened at his words, staring at him in shock as you recalled the day you told yourself you were imagining things.

“Truthfully, Sarah was supposed to be last,” he casually said, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. “My own fucking sister.”

He scoffed, and something passed through his gaze that told you he was genuinely hurt about Sarah’s so-called betrayal. His blue eyes rested on you, and you were suddenly thinking about the last time you stared into them…when he had his hands around your throat, choking the life out of you. Rafe seemed to be thinking about that night too, and you watched his gaze briefly fall to the floor, sniffing.

“I gotta admit,” he murmured. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He looked into your eyes again, and you realized that you hadn’t stopped crying once since he revealed himself to you. Your gaze briefly landed on Barry who was still on the couch, watching the whole ordeal like this was some tv show instead of real fucking life.

“Rafe…” you choked out.

“…but I can promise you,” the blond sneered, pointing the knife at you. “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

You closed your eyes, fresh tears falling, and you struggled to swallow.

“Just get it over with already,” you breathed, so tired and…defeated. “Just kill me.”

When you opened your eyes, Rafe looked genuinely amused at the words that left your mouth. You weren’t surprised when he chuckled, and he glanced over his shoulder at Barry, still laughing.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your confusion must have been evident because he laughed again. Rafe stepped towards you until your eyes were level with his crotch, and you hated the way he looked down at you, like you were this helpless and hapless thing that he was just going to have so much fun with. When he slowly knelt before you, you flinched as he lifted his hand, the end of the knife lightly grazing your cheek before it trailed down your neck. Rafe’s blue gaze followed the descent, tongue darting out between his lips.

“Why would I do a silly thing like that?”

His almost inaudible words were loud and clear to you though, and you felt like you’d been shot.

“I won’t lie,” he said, staring at your collarbone. “I thought about. It was the first thing on my mind when Barry pulled me out of that grave you put me in.”

You swallowed when his gaze snapped to yours.

“I wanted to gut you like those fish my dad are always reeling in,” he spat. “I wanted to cut you open.”

You shook your head, letting it fall as you cried.

“…but this seemed soo much better,” he breathed, voice shaky, and you knew it wasn’t from fear nor anger.

Rafe was excited.

“…because you know what’s so much better than murdering all of your friends and forcing you to live with the fact that their deaths are on your hands? Hmm?”

He reached up, lightly grazing your lips with his fingers.

“Do you know what’s better than that?”

His hand tightened around your chin, and knowing him like the back of your hand, you knew he actually wanted an answer.

“No,” you muttered.

Rafe leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek in a gentle kiss as he whispered his response.

“Having you all to myself.”

You didn’t have time to resist before Rafe was yanking you up by your hair, quite literally dragging you through this stranger’s house. Your feet tripped over one another, and several times you almost fell. Rafe finally wrapped an arm around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold as he forced you down the hall. The moment you tried to scream, his hand was there, forcing it down, and when he tossed you into the bedroom, your forehead hit the leg of the bed.

You heard him whistle.

“The old geezers have taste,” he praised. “…bet this is where that granddaughter of theirs sleeps when she comes to visit.”

You were a sobbing mess, just barely pushing yourself to your knees when Rafe tackled you onto your back. Not unfamiliar with this predicament, you fought against him, hitting him and scratching at his face. Any resistance was met with a genuine laugh, and when Rafe had both of your wrists pinned down beside your head, he tilted his own at you.

“You already killed me, baby,” he breathed. “What more could you do to me?”

The scream you let out was filled with equal pain and frustration, kicking out when he sank his teeth into your chest. It was done with the full intent to hurt, and he succeeded, pain blooming beneath your skin as he tore at your shirt.

Becoming reacquainted with his knife, you tried to scoot back as he sliced through your pants with it, pulling the jeans off of you in tatters. Fearful of the weapon in his hand, you tried to push at his arm, but when his free hand wrapped around your throat, effectively pinning you down, the knife found its way to your stomach.

You breath hitched as you froze.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Rafe hummed. “I might just…slip.”

You yelped at the sharp feeling along your stomach, and the burn you felt told you there was a cut there. He didn’t let go of the knife as he undressed himself with his other hand, and when he reached for your bra, the blade was pressed to your throat the entire time. You couldn’t stop shaking even if you wanted to, and Rafe made a show of taking his time as he settled between your legs.

“I hope you know how much planning went into this…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“…and I hope you know that this was all that kept me going.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped in both pain and shock. You hadn’t been with Rafe—with anyone—in a year, and you struggled to adjust. Fresh tears escaped, and when Rafe’s bloody hand gripped your jaw, he turned your head to meet him in a kiss. It was gentle, nothing at all like the rough thrusts he started to give you.

Your back rubbed against the floor as he fucked you, and your crying was drowned out by the sound of his deep moans. Rafe sounded like he was in heaven while you felt like you were in hell. The feel of his cock pushing into you made your mind shrivel with disgust, but your body responded exactly how he wanted.

“I missed you,” he moaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I missed you so much.”

You sobbed louder, hating the way his thrusts became smoother, now. Your body greedily sucked him in with every push of his hips, and as his hands ran over you, all you could think about were these same hands killing your friends. These same hands that had done so much damage to your life even before that fateful night last year.

With a tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, Rafe forced your head back, and he took his time grazing his teeth along your skin. You could still feel the cool blade of the knife on your skin whenever he moved his other hand. His hips snapped against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room, and it seemed like every nightmare you’d had about Rafe had come true…only multiplied by one hundred.

He pressed a hand into your stomach, holding himself up that way while the other hand pressed the knife to your throat. A fresh bout of sobs escaped, and you swore that Rafe actually smiled. You were proven right when he laughed, a deep and raspy chuckle that made your hair stand on end.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” he breathed. “…being so weak and at the mercy of someone else?”

It was sick how Rafe didn’t seem to realize that you knew this feeling long before today. Countless days filled with fear and yelling and manhandling plagued your mind, and the knowledge that Rafe had no intention of ending your suffering was enough to make you go numb.

As if sensing that, Rafe pressed the blade into your throat.

Your gasped turned into cries as you reached up.

“Uh uh,” he panted. “None of that. You are going to lie here…and you’re going to think about what you did to me.”

You gripped his wrist, eyes pleading. Rafe leaned in, nose pressed to yours with a knife pressed to your throat and a hand pressed to your stomach.

“You’re going to lie here, and take my cock, and thank God that I decided to spare your life.”

A particular hard thrust made you gasp.

“Every day, for as long as you live, I want you to think about your friends and remember that they are dead because of you…”

You closed your eyes, and Rafe dug the knife into your throat.

“Open your fucking eyes,” he breathed, continuing when you obeyed. “They are dead because you failed to kill me, and every time I come inside of you, you should take it with nothing less than gratitude.”

He kissed you then, roughly and lacking of any kind of love. It was purely done for show, to exert his power over you and remind you that you belonged to him. You tried to turn your head, and in doing so, you caught sight of Barry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched. The sight made you turn your head away, sobbing beneath Rafe.

“…because never forget that I wanted to cut you open,” he whispered in your ear, grinding his hips against yours and forcing a choked moan from your lips. “…but where is the fun in killing you when this is so much better.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #kinktober #halloween #halloween fic

[mochinomnoms]

Oh? Pray tell, what do Jade, Mal and Azul enjoy so much about the period sex?

[cw] - period sex, implications of a breeding kink at the end

Referring to this post

*slams hands on desk*

Okay so they all have their own justifications other than they just think their partner is hot, and they're down bad. I like to think they all have a thing for servicing their partner, so starting from the bottom to the top:

Azul knows that he is needed to give you assistance. It's what he lives for! Anything you might need, it's his job to give, and give he does~ Azul is researching all the ways that can help with your symptoms, particularly cramps as it seems to be the most consistent pain. He finds that heating pads are the best, as well as general pain meds. However, you already have a bunch from Ortho and the nurse has you covered with meds. So what's an octomer to do? It's during his research that he discovers that orgasms can help with the pain. He thinks it's strange, if you're bleeding and shedding your lining, wouldn't having sex make it hurt? Even if he gave you oral, the blood would be everywhere and make a mess. Like him when he inks. He'd have to take you in the water, and probably be in his merform to make sure that any predators that sense your blood. You'd be pretty dependent on him, for protection and to feel good. Your pretty hair, billowing around your face as his arms wrap around your form, one of his tentacles massaging your insides ever so gently. Hmm, actually—From there, he's inviting you over to Octavinelle for the weekend, where he offers to show you a new cramp remedy he's learned about. You're surprised when he takes you to the dorm pool, and looks at you with a smug smile as he drags you in the water, offering his 8 limbs to sooth your cramps with a nice massage. It's a thoroughly enjoyable massage~

Malleus learns of this remedy from Lilia, who heard about it on his travels after a tryst with a cute human. He's so sweet to you (and only you) that he wants to do his best to help his human out. Malleus has no qualms about getting dirty, he can magic himself clean if needed, and he's still concerned about the fact that you're in pain. He's not sure what it is about orgasms that help with pain, but if it helps then he's happy to be of assistance! He doesn't want to stress you out more than necessary, so Malleus decides that eating you out is the best course of action. Malleus won't mention that you being more whiny and needy during your period, making you extra pilable and receptive, struck a particular nerve in him. He works you to your first orgasm, delighted at how extra sensitive you were as you easily fell about to his ministrations. The first time he does this, he pulled away to check on you, blood staining your thighs and his lips. You'd let out a low whine, arching your back as you opened your eyes to look at him, and smiled. A sweet, satisfied smile as you praise him for his gentleness and willingness to take care of you. He was taking care of you, like a mate should, and keeping you satisfied and happy. Malleus was a good mate, so in his mind, he should keep being a good mate so that you'll keep praising him. He dived right back in and left you squealing and shaking for the next few hours.

He likes to be depended on, he likes caring for things that need to depend on him. Jade likes to be in control, a mastermind that pulls the puppet's strings in the background. He likes things that are vulnerable to him and his whims, and this is no different with you and Jade. Granted, you're not a terrarium of his, you're his sweet little human, so he's not going to treat you as such. But, he still likes being a bit in control of your care and being needed by you. Jade loves when you're needy: he can care for you, love you, dazzle you so that he can never compare to any other love you may have. Not that he plans on letting you go anytime soon. Oh no, Jade may say he doesn't understand the appeal of the surface world like other merfolk, but make no mistake. Jade is enchanted by the differences between the human body and his own. Jade had made it his mission to thoroughly “research” human anatomy with you, and is delighted at how strange it is (he gets banned from touching you for a week for that statement). And you bleed roughly once a month? Do you know what that knowledge did to his brain? He's quite interested in learning how your period effects your body: do you get more sensitive, do you get more emotional, what does it do to you? Would you taste different? Feel different when he enters his length into you? Will you be more pliant to him, or more combative? It's just all so fascinating. Upon learning how your period effects your body, the pains you endure, he makes it his mission to make sure he can meet all your needs. Jade came up to you, unusually giddy one night, with a preposition. He takes you to bed, sending a begrudging Grim off to Heartslabyul, laying a towel underneath you, and getting to work to test out his hypothesis. Jade's face is covered in a mix of your juices and blood, both a sweet and metallic taste that is pleasing to his moray tongue, as he finished giving you your third orgasm of the night. Jade is licking his lips clean has he moves to place the tip of his cock against your entrance, rubbing against it as he leans down to whisper, “Do let me know in detail how this feels, I myself am particularly enjoying delightfully you taste. I imagine you'll feel just as good squeezing around me.” Happy to serve, Jade is concerned that you have to go through such pain once a month. He offers to help you get rid of it for at least 9 months, longer if you don't mind having a set of irish twins*, one after the other.

*irish twins are siblings that are born 12 months or less apart

Hehehe yummy, :p comments and reblogs appreciated!

#mochi asks #!nsfw #!period sex #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #azul ashengrotto #malleus draconia #jade leech smut #azul ashengrotto smut #malleus draconia smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #malleus draconia x reader

[eupheme]

— looking back

joel miller x f!reader

rated e - 2.2k

tags: jackson-era Joel pov, angst, canon-typical violence/references to death, established relationship, Joel is an ass man, consensual somno elements, posessive!joel, body worship, dirty talk, male masturbation, spitting, touching, come marking

a/n: easing back into writing and started 2 little wips that are sort of "introspective-joel-pov-smut-fics" - here is the first one! 💕

“Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

Or - Joel gets off just from the sight of you

He’s strung as tight as a bow. The lingering adrenaline a notched arrow, leaving him about to snap. Blood seeps into his jeans - splattered across his knees, where he had jerked the knife from the man’s neck.

It had been a mercy killing. A stranger, but they had all seen the bite. He had been the only one to do something about it.

He’s told others that you get used to it. The killing - that after a while, survival wins out.

You get over it.

But you don’t. Instead, it clings to him like a shadow, following him home - down the worn, familiar path. Inside the gates, back to Jackson.

Heavier than it’s been before. An itching beneath his skin. If he was over it, he wouldn’t have to turn himself off. Shutting away a part of himself, only to fight to come back - clawing his way out later.

An aching reminder at how short life could be. That yes, things were different - but he was never really safe.

Not really.

His path brings him to you. A beacon, guiding his way back.

His - your - home coming into view, just as the dawn creeps over the fall, wooden fences. The misty grey brightening into gold and pink with the sun, as he’s unlocking the wooden door, shouldering it open.

A look thrown out the window as he scrubs his hand clean in the kitchen - seeing that the garage light is on. That she’s home, that she’s okay. An automatic check, before his weary feet take him upstairs.

Joel sheds the layers, the jacket thrown over the railing at the top of the stairs. Fingers fumbling with his belt, pulling the worn leather through the loops before his stained jeans crumple on the floor, as he pushes the cracked door open.

The light from the hallway stretches across the wooden floor, creeping into the dark room. Where you still lay sleeping, curled on your side within the blankets and sheets. Missing him in your dreams, that space next to you long empty.

Cold - where your fingers reach out, searching for him.

His path diverts, moving to you instead of the attached bathroom. The edge of the bed sinking under his weight, a soft sound as you stir.

“‘Welcome ‘ome.” You murmur, still half-asleep. A little wiggle as your bent knee hitches higher, the oversized shirt you’re wearing bunching up around your hips.

He reaches out, just the ghosting of his fingers against the soft skin near your knee. The fluttering of heavy lashes as you fight sleep, only to be pulled under again.

Joel’s hand shifts. A warm palm pressing against your thigh. Against soft skin, so different than his own calloused touch.

Home.

It is, isn’t it? As close to he’s had in years. Decades. The old apartment in the QZ had never felt that way, not with the faded floral walls. Those small rooms that still held ghosts.

But here, his own touch lingers. Yours, melding with it. It would never be like before - the picking out of furniture, of paint. But it’s his clothes in the closet. His worn guitar that rests against the couch. His wooden carvings lining the top of the mantle, above the fireplace.

And you - you're scattered throughout. Woven blankets and thick sweaters. Books, covering damn near every surface.

A little bottle of found lotion tucked away in the bathroom. He can smell it now, as he leans over you. A bristly kiss pressed against your cheek, the curve of your shoulder.

Amber, vanilla, caramel.

He’s pulled back to the memory, the light shining in your eyes when he handed the beaten bottle over. The minuscule amount you had worked into your knuckles - the soft sigh of contentment.

A bright laugh when he had pulled you close, the murmured “smells good” against your throat, as you had squirmed in his grasp - smiling as you read the fragrance notes out loud.

Something stirs in him, then. The press of his thigh against yours, as he leans over. Eyes dragging down to the bare curve of your ass, his hand tracing cup your thigh to palm your flesh.

His already uneven breath hitching, as you sigh. That little smile - his name - murmured out as you rock instinctively into his touch. Still on the edge of consciousness, lulled off into a deep sleep with the cooling of summer.

Waking you up wouldn’t be unusual. Half the time you’re already up after these early-morning patrols. Waiting for him.

How he waits for you, on those few days where it’s you out there, instead of him. His jaw working with irritation until you’re home and back and safe, and he’s stripping your clothes from you himself.

It’s selfish to wake you, on a morning where you sleep so deeply. Even with the stress that’s eating at him, simmering in his veins.

But maybe… maybe he can just-

Joel is leaning, his mouth against your neck. A shift as you stretch, baring your skin to him as your lips curl in a smile. A soft, sleepy hum as you reach for him, fingers curving over the thick muscle of his forearm.

The hand on your ass drifting up - across to the small of your back. Meeting nothing but warm, bared skin beneath your shirt.

“Fuck. I need you.” He rasps - an edge to his voice, “Would you let me look at you, honey? Just let me look.”

Heavy-lidded eyes open then at the sound of his voice - his words - as you tilt your head. A slow sweep over the breadth of his shoulders, the curve of his stomach. The spread of his thighs as he kneels behind you. The already half-hard tent of faded boxers.

You had been waiting for him. Anticipating his return, eager for his touch. The cloud of sleep begins to clear as he palms himself, the bed shifting as your hips shift, thighs spreading open for him.

“I can take care of you,” Your voice is scratchy - husky, in the early morning. A hand pressing again on your back as you begin to roll over, holding you in place.

“You already are,” Joel groans, as your hips tilt up, off the bed. Knees pressing into the mattress as he nudges your thighs wider, fitting between them, “Stay just like that, alright?”

The combination feels erotic. His smell on the shirt you wear. The tingling throb between your thighs, the desire in his voice. How much he wants - enough that just the sight of you has him hard, thumbs catching on the waistband of his boxers to free himself.

You relax into the bed, as you watch. The weight of his hand as it moves to squeeze your ass. A pressure as he tugs, opening you up.

“Fuck.”

Joel spits in his palm, before it’s wrapping around his cock. A rough groan as some of that need is eased, with the sharp stroke of his fist.

Just letting himself look. Admire.

A sight that is only his, fingers sinking into soft flesh. The way you trust, how effected you are already - the shallow rock of your hips as the sound of skin-on-skin fills the room.

“You got a pretty little pussy, honey.” He hears himself saying. Watching how you clench at his praise, the little gasp that follows. “Pretty little holes. All for me, right?”

He can feel the weight of your gaze. Darkening, as your hunger grows low in your belly. Darting between his face and the sharp flick of his wrist.

Rarely getting to see him take, like this. Usually he would have been buried in you, by now. There’s the urge to ask, but there’s a power in this - wanting to watch him get off to you. Not having to lift a finger to do so.

“All for you.” You sigh, “Always.”

His jaw grits, teeth clicking together. A bead of precum joins the slick of his spit, that angry fire in his belly transforming.

So different that the little mouse he had taken to bed, all those months ago. Your hands covering your mouth, muffling the moans, until he had pried them away. Pinning them against the pillows, whispering filth in your ear.

Now, he can see the greed in your eyes. The way you glisten, when his own gaze drops. The shift of your thighs as he takes a second to rub himself against the curve of your ass. Dipping down to press against your core.

The tip coming back slick, in a new kind of way - fueling the pressure, building in his belly.

Your moan breaks the early-morning quiet. His name on your lips again - more urgent than before.

The little beg only sends him closer, a rough groan in his throat. His own hand too familiar - used to the quick and precise touch he needs to get off, when he had to.

In the before. In the during - when it was only words that the you of you had exchanged. Heated looks that lingered late into those lonely nights.

Hasn’t felt the urge to, since he’s had you.

He expects you to ask him to fill you, eyes caught on the enticing lift of your hips.

Caught off-guard for the briefest second, a heat flushing over his cheeks, when you shift beneath him instead. Flipping over, onto your back.

Eyes bright, teeth sinking into your lip as you smile.

“Wanna watch.” You admit, and that tension in his shoulders settles in his chest, turning sweet.

His fist tightening around his cock, as your thighs splay over his. Opening yourself up under his gaze, stretching out in front of him.

And fuck, what a sight. There’s a rolling wave deep in his core that he chases with the rock of his hips.

His hand fits perfectly against the curve of your waist, eyes caught on the way your fingers catch on the hem of your shirt.

Pulling it up over your breasts, a path that his eyes follow greedily.

“Christ, darlin’.” The words rumble in his chest.

A rough exhale as your own gaze drops to his fist. The pace that he’s picked up - the peek of the flushed tip when he strokes down to the base.

Already about to burst, like he’s a man half his age. Could say it’s just his own touch, the urge to relieve the weight of his stress.

But he knows it’s more. That warmth in his chest, a tenderness that has only softened the rough stone of his heart since he’s left Boston.

It’s there in the way that he could linger on the slick place between your thighs. But instead he’s watching you watch him. Focusing on the part of your lips, the shine in your eyes.

“‘m close.” Joel breathes, his words low. Rough. “Where do you want it?”

He’ll catch it in his palm if he needs to. If it helps you go back to sleep, after. He hasn’t given up on that wish - to let you drift off for a little longer.

The look you give him, the little smile that turns mischievous, has his stomach twisting into knots. Like butterflies, he thinks.

Your hand drifts down, knuckles brushing over the jerk of his. Soft fingers tracing over hot, swollen flesh. Only to curve over your mound, to spread yourself open for him.

“Fuck.” He breathes, again, “There?”

The answering hum is low, desperate.

“Wanna hear you ask me.” Joel pushes - needing to hear you say it, knowing it will push him over the edge.

You squirm beneath him, affected by the edge to his voice, the soft command.

“Want you to come on me.”

“Where, baby?” The word slides from his lips without thought.

The eye contact breaks, your gaze darting away with embarrassment. But after a moment it’s back - the soft heave of your breasts as you suck in a breath, steeling your nerves.

“Want you to come on my pussy, Joel.”

He can’t help the rough groan, ripped from his chest. The shift of his thighs as he pulls back, as that pressure builds. The pleasure surging instead of ebbing, as he tips his cock downward.

The next stroke of his fist pushes him past the threshold. Relief sings in his veins as he spills across your mound. Painting your abdomen with his release, eyes fluttering closed as his hearing goes fuzzy.

Drowning out his long moan, as you push yourself up. He meets you instinctually, arcing over you as his mouth is drawn to yours.

As his spend drips down the crease of your thigh, so warm against soft skin.

It feels like a weight is lifted, like he’s back in his own skin again. Relaxing into the fingers that scratch into his hair, the tongue that sweeps against his.

But it’s only a few moments before he remembers. Coming back to himself, as he fits his hand between your thighs.

Fingers dragging through his release, bringing his slick fingers to circle against your clit.

Because there’s no way you’re going back to sleep after this. Not if he knows you - which he’s now certain that he does.

"Thank you honey." He murmurs, with lips that press against your cheek.

The smallest smile after, as your own part with a moan - as he croons against your skin.

"Now let me take care of you."

thank you for reading! was excited to explore a little idea I had 💕

(tags: @celestianstars)

#gif credit to @loregifs - she is amazing! #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut

[dilfl0v3rss]

ony is the best baby daddy like he just has that energyyy 😫

rightttttt like he gets the kids on time and if he’s late he will always let you know. he knows how to do his daughters hair and always makes sure his son has a haircut. his kids are always dressed nice and he always makes sure they’re taking care of each other as well as taking care of their beautiful mother.

he still finds himself looking out for you too, always telling the kids to “order sum for mommy” when he takes them out to eat or to “always make sure mommy’s not working too hard”. even on days he isn’t supposed to have them he’d gladly take them if you were feeling overwhelmed. if you’re feeling sick he’ll literally sleep at your house, soup and medicine sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch as he slept just incase you were to wake up in the middle of the night.

he’d constantly “forget” money at your house after he leaves too, telling you to “just get yourself sum nice”. if you give the money back anyways he’d give it to his oldest child, telling them to put it in your wallet for him.

when it’s his weekend with the kids he’d call you every couple of hours to let you know he has everything under control since he knows how worried you could get when you haven’t heard from him i awhile.

he always speaks highly of you to the kids, telling his daughters stories of when the two of you were young and in love and telling his sons stories of how strong you were for him when he couldn’t be strong for himself. your kids would honestly be what got the two of you back together. they’d constantly tell you the stories their father would tell them, reminding you of how happy the two of you used to be and making you realize that you didn’t even know why the two of you called it quits in the first place.

as soon as you called ony he’d answer on the first ring, throwing millions of questions at you since you never really called unless he had the kids. you’d shut him up by asking if he could come over to talk for a little in which he replied almost instantly with a yes. he’d be over there in less than fifteen minutes letting you lead him to your bedroom to talk just incase your kids came downstairs for some water or a late night snack.

of course the two of you didn’t get to talk for more than ten minutes, his dick shoved deep into you as he held his hand over your mouth. “shhh mama you gotta be quiet. ion want you t’wake the kids” he’d whisper, fucking into you deeper as he watched your teary eyes roll to the back of your skull. you’d mumble back a muffled “mhm” as you felt the pad of his thumb begin to circle your clit. you’d whine and moan for him loader and loader, turning him on to the point where his grunts and groans began to come out at a higher volume as well. soon enough the both of you were deep in bliss, fucking on each other just like you used to. you’d tell him how much you missed him and how you’ve never stopped loving him and he’d gladly say it back, deepening his stroke as he left passionate kisses on your lips.

as the two of you finished ony would lay you back down, letting sleep claim you as he moved towards the door to check on his little angels. as soon as he turned the doorknob loud shuffles could he heard from the hallway, the sound of a bunch of feet running towards one of the bedrooms and little whispers of “sh sh shh” and “be quiet” coming from it as he made his way down the hall to check on his “sleeping” children. he couldn’t help but smile when he seen them cuddled up together on a large blanket of the floor, some of the smaller ones in bed with the oldest. they had different rooms, but chose to sleep together often since they were all so close.

ony couldn’t help but notice the small smiles on each of their faces, nothing but excitement and joy rushing through them as they thought about how happy much happier their parents will be now that they’re together again.

i didn’t even mean to write this i just let my brain leak all over the place…

#aot x black reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black!reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon smut #aot onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!reader #aot onyankopon smut

[luveline]

hiii, i just wanna say i absolutely adoreee ur writing ur amazing and fabulous. I wanted to request something with hotch where reader gets hurt pretty badly in the field and is gonna have to spend a lot of time in recovery (so like not being able to work in the field for a while) and just a lot of fluff and comforting? (thx ur the bestest ever ever ever and i <3 u i’ve been reading ur stuff for years)

love u <3 fem

Your leg is broken in four different places. 

Hotch is sure you're going to cry the moment you realise what that means, but he isn't expecting for it to be a minute after you've woken up. 

“We'll get you something for the pain,” a nurse promises.

“It's not that,” you say, you sob, looking between your leg and Hotch as though you're hoping he'll tell you something different. 

You live for your job. They all have their reasons, and they all have their vices. You and Hotch are the same —you can't live without this. There's no alternative. 

But your leg is undeniably broken. 

The nurse gives him a look, hoping he'll calm you down, and he would've started the moment your eyes welled with tears if he thought he could change the outcome. Still, it breaks his heart to see you so immediately upset. He has to try something. 

“It's not forever,” he says.

“How long?” 

“Not forever.” The break, the surgery, the physical therapy. He asked for the estimates. He doesn't want to be the one to tell you, but you won't accept it from anyone else. “Six months.” 

The broken leg isn't the end of it. Your wrist is fractured, your pinky and ring finger broken, a laceration the length of his hand up your thigh. You were concussed, you're still at risk of agitating all the things you've hurt. Your face crumples and you can't even cover it with two hands like you would. It is, admittedly, the worst you've ever been at. Hotch can't stand it.  

“Would you excuse us?” he asks the nurse. “I have her.” 

“Hotch,” you say as the door closes, your voice achingly unhappy, “make them check again.” 

He takes your uninjured wrist. Holds it. “They've done everything they can do. I promise you, I was here for all of it. I argued against the pins, I knew they'd keep you here longer, I– against my better judgement, I sent people away because I knew you wouldn't want them to see you like this. This is the best outcome I could salvage.” 

“This is the best?” you ask, shaking your head at him. “This is my life.” 

You didn't see yourself. The way you'd laid there after it was over. You don't get that this is a good thing, that you weren't hurt worse. All you can see is months of desk duty, and he can't even blame you, because six months away would make him ill. 

“This is the best I could do for you,” he says, rubbing your wrist with his thumb. “I'm sorry.” 

His apology catches you off guard. You make a sound near a hiccup and turn to him completely, the fat body of a tear dripping down your cheek to your chin, where it stays. He can see the question before you've asked it and he won't make you, either, leaning down to cover you up with his arms, his chin atop your head. “I'm sorry, honey. I know how much it means to you.” 

“It's…” Your good arm works around him weakly, a hesitant touch to his back. “Not your fault. I…” 

He lets you fade, rubbing at the top of your arm, enthusing you with as much warmth as he can. “Six months recovery doesn't mean six months out of the field,” he promises. “In two months you'll be walking. It won't feel as long as you're thinking.” 

“In a boot.” 

In a full cast, poor thing. He frowns, pressing his nose into your head. “You can consult from home just as soon as you're home,” he says softly, still rubbing your arm. The touch turns to a gentle stroking, his palm numb to the ticklish sensation your naked arm brings, the sleeve of your hospital gown bunching with each line he makes. 

“I know you're unhappy, but it will heal. And you have an army of people who can't wait to see you. We… things have been complicated.” 

“How long was I out?” you ask. 

“You were awake between surgeries, but it's been two days.” 

You hug him with more insistence. “Thanks for looking after me,” you whisper. 

Oh, sweetheart, he could say. He could kiss your crown. Honestly, Hotch could take your face into his hands and suddenly he is, he's holding your face and looking down at you, eyes dark and sorry to your silvery tears. 

He strokes your cheek. “It'll be alright,” he promises. 

You dissolve into tears again in his hands. He wipes them away as they come, for as long as they will. It's the least he'd do for you. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble