#I think they *tried* to make him less of a cop near the end but I just genuinely cannot see it sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kombuuuu · 11 months

Note

miles deflecting is so GOOD he makes me ILL!!!!!! i love ur writing <3 do u think we cld have like a short continuation 4 it?

Deflecting on you.

42!Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

“Would you hurt me?” “Never again.”

continuation to this C:

im infecting people with the 42!Miles propaganda cough cough 🗣️ ly2 pookie (also this is definitely not short)

A few days had passed now, and Miles had stayed his previous level of civil, bordering caring, with you.

He wasn’t glad with how easy he had let the two other kids get off. But when they were reduced to cowering forms in darkened corners whenever he was around, it brought a pinch of justice, pride to his chest. Although, James had a rather decent punishment, in his opinion.

Word had gone around that he’d gone insane, smashed his head against a desk in an old , deserted classroom until he’d passed out. Mangled his own skull, intended to stab someone, but couldn’t get up from the damage to his own self.

A tip to the cops surveying the scene, and the rumour was spread a little wider.

He had been wary with you, from the moment you both sat staring at the city life below you, in his bed.

In his room, his house with his Ma just outside. The domesticity of the moment making the ache in his lungs suffocate his heart. Squeezing and pumping out as much blood as it could, heart rate trying to keep up with the lack of air.

He’d thought back to it too often in the mere days since occurrence for him to simply brush it off, but he sure tried.

—

He tapped the rubber of his pencil along his desk, staring at the page below him. The words being said had been drowned out by his racing mind, something he fully knows would get him in trouble eventually for “lack of effort”. But it was maths, there wasn’t a single thing being told that he didn’t already know.

What had his current attention, was the faint sketch of you on his gridded paper. He hadn’t meant to draw it, he’d just—, spaces out and it was there when he snapped back.

Now he was at a standstill with himself, use the currently tapping eraser to get rid of the drawing, or live with the faint lines hidden between pages. It was obvious, rub it out. But the thing, the most difficult aspect—,

—Was how utterly gorgeous the drawing was.

How your hair framed the page, the shape of your eyes being shaded in led. The soft look you’d given him that night being practically pulled from his mind and placed on the cheap paper. He’d recreated it perfectly, he could feel the apprehension, the uncertainty.

But despite how bitter those words sounded, uncertainty was still consideration.

You were considering him. Not as an enemy, or a nuisance — as a stranger.

You can get to know a stranger.

You can get to know him.

Miles closed his eyes and groaned under his breath, rolling eyes at the hope rising in the back of his neck.

He flicked to the next page, promising to never open to it again.

If it ended up cut out of his book, folded neatly and stuffed in the hidden latch of his desk drawer, no one but him would know.

—

You hadn’t forgive him, of course you hadn’t — you’re not that naïve.

He hurt you, cause you an entire season of torment, sleepless night and stress filled days.

You tried to stay quiet, like you always had. Passing by crowds unnoticed and surfing under the noise with a cotton stuffed ear.

And he’d started a ruining of that.

Trying not to draw attention to yourself, despite him so clearly trying to put you in spotlight.

This whole ordeal was a domino effect from that damn kaleidoscope, and he was just another finger flicking the next tile.

Until he wasn’t.

And he’d near killed a man for you. Taken care of you, feared for your life.

He’d found you, from nothing but a gut feeling.

The way he would stare now, was less vindictive. His gaze no longer that of anger but of a man conflicted. Like he couldn’t tell what to think of you.

You lay over your ruffled sheets, quilt and bedding under you to not overheat yourself. You window was wide open, airing out your humid room. The soft sway of leaves sprouting from the vines crawling over your building was pleasant. Digging their roots in the crevices of your window sill like Miles had been digging into the crevices of your mind.

You put a hand over your head, stretching your back up and listening the the crack that came from it.

Dropping back down and huffing, you continued to watch your ceiling in mild disinterest, trying desperately to reach the essence of sleep, and let the way Miles’ lips curled into a smirk fall from your mind.

He hadn’t realised it, but his small rebuttal to your teasing that night in his room had made a permanent statement in your head, no longer able to forget about it.

“No, just you —,” Your mind hadn’t cared to supply the rest.

Every single thing about that scarring night had burned its way into your temporal lobe. Like giving it a searing kiss with memory stained lipstick.

A small clicking had caught your attention, like fingernails tapping glass. The clinks were rhythmic, had the coordination of a spiders legs.

Your focus on the plain ceiling was now broken, a curiosity replacing it.

You approached the open window without caution, Moonlight spilling through the glossy panes. Placing your hands on the sill, you leaned forward, and felt the small rush of wind over your shoulders, the breeze cooling your heated face. An urge to close your eyes and take it in almost over-reigned that new curiosity, but your self preservation thought better of it. Checking left and right either side as if someone was going to be waiting right there for you. Because that was a completely rational and not at all ludicrous thought. You scoffed to yourself, glancing at the skyline with glistening eyes before turning and heading back inside, to finally — maybe, fall asleep.

—

Miles released a quiet breath, braids swaying from his suspended position hanging from a rooftop. Your rooftop, of your building—.. Where he was watching you. It was coincidence, really. That somehow, running from guys he stole a cure his Momma needed for a patient from. And when grappling from building to building, using clips and hooks and zip lines to get away from them, he’d stumbled into your street.

He’d lie to himself and say it was just the street his Ma’s favourite Paella was made, but the one time he’d seen you, exhausted from school—, drag yourself into an apartment across the street from that very place..

His opinion hadn’t changed, so to speak. But there was an added motive, that’s it.

And he’s hiding, it’s not his fault if your apartment is high up. Or his need to see you is growing at alarming rates, or his heart was beating so loud in his ears that he hadn’t heard you approach the window.

So when your fingers had softly scraped along the sill of your window, he’d pulled himself above you — and prayed you wouldn’t look up.

You hadn’t, thankfully.

He’d watched the way your skin had shone under the city lights, your features illuminated and accentuated by the chaos the streets. You were so unbothered—, so calm, even amidst everything he (and everyone else) had put you through.

Like a stubborn stone keeping the whole wall from collapsing.

His admiration for you had grown, not only from the past months — which he realises is slightly sadistic — but from your tenderness that had only lasted mere minutes. Even the glimpse of a softer you, not the one covered in a satiated rage, hands squeezing lemons until the bitterness dripped not from the fruit broken skin, but from your own. The sting of acid only making your bloodied finger feel more justified.

Not that.

What he saw was a woman free of woes, no need to split her skin when her heart was already so vulnerable.

And he craved for a mere glimpse of that again.

Like old, your anger had satisfied him. Gave him those doses of you he’d fiend for, and had excited him to no end. Now, he’s found something stronger.

He can’t let you go.

He watches you scoff at yourself, his mask retracting from his face. You look towards the city’s edge one last time before turning and making your way back inside.

He sighs, adjusting his position on the buildings ledge, and grabs the waterspout running the side of the building, crawling back to the shadows.

His claws clink, like nails tapping glass.

—

There wasn’t a day of peace in the last fortnight.

You were still suffering the effects of your previous injuries. People knowing that something had gone down between you and James, seeing as he hadn’t showed up in two weeks. And the near-healed bruises on your face were a well indicator of your involvement.

So when you stumbled upon Keith, someone you’d basically owed your still-intact-body too, scrambling out of an alley. Bloodied and bruised, nose broken and face almost as busted as your was that day. Safe to say you weren’t exactly confused to what was happening.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours almost eerily fast, the blood from his nose coating his teeth a deep crimson. A sick chill ran down your spine and you stumbled back. A wet gasp for breath was heard, diverting your attention towards its gruesome origin.

Turning your body towards the darkened alley, vision blurring at the edges. Your breath escaped you.

Keith had started speaking, and over the ringing in your ears he’d begged for your forgiveness, scraping his knees while he clawed to get away from his friends continuous spluttered coughing.

“What—..”

Mathew was lying on the floor, avidly trying to protect himself using only his bare hands. While a figure you could only see the back of punched in a strict, repeated pattern — like they’d done this before.

“Miles?”

The man whipped his head towards you, blood dripping down a cut on his cheekbone, and a snarl over his face.

Said contortion quickly smoothened out, a rather *confronted look replacing it.

Keith was long gone by now, having dragged his bloodied body away from whatever mess you were now a part of.

“Chiquita, don’t freak out.”

The way your lungs seemed to refuse oxygen kind of refuted that command.

You were frozen still, eyes stuck on the barely conscious body beneath the subject of your recent intrigue.

Mathew was barely recognisable, eyes puffed up in bruises and bloodied flesh. Miles had taken near no damage compared to the other men.

“[Name], c’mon.” He was getting up now, shuffling off his opponent with a tone of apprehension.

Only when his movement shifted your frozen eyes, did you see the key details you’d missed.

Braids, Nikes, Jacket, Collar, Claws.

A spray painted logo you’d only ever seen one man branding.

The Prowler.

"No te precipites, Ma."

“Don’t act rash, Ma.”

Right as the endearment left his mouth, you turned on your heel and ran.

"[Name], Por dios — quedate aquí."

“[Name]! Oh my god — stay there.”

He waved nonchalantly to the definitely not-going-anywhere boy on the floor. Shifting his foot back and jumping at a wall, claws digging in and gripping the ledge to the roof, swinging himself over it and keeping the momentum in a run.

Darting through corner stalls and confused pedestrians, you tripped over yourself to get away.

A strong, persistent mantra of ‘Holy fuck.’ was circling through the forefront of your mind, and yet everything else was hyper aware.

Not a fault in your step as your grace seemed to come out in times of dire panic, like a dancer following their cues, every movement made around you was an instructors yell.

You turned into the alley leading to your apartment, a shortcut, when you heard someone drop down behind you. You spun around, fast enough to dizzy yourself, and gave one look to the neon mask of the vigilante before going to run again. A small noise of panic escaped your shaking form.

“No corras, por favor!”

“Don’t run, please!”

Your heart beat fast, reaching the door to your apartment complex, swiping your key card and launching yourself inside, the scuffle of shoes being heard just outside the slammed shut door.

“Please, [Name], let me in. We can talk this out, Ma.”

Miles begged, knocking on the complexs’ back door.

"They were gonna jump you, [Name].”

“I don’t believe you.”

Your voice came out shaking, confused and *scared. You’d known he’d been capable of violence. It was adamant in the way he wouldn’t flinch at a hit, or the scars that coated his exposed skin.

But this? A man who’s killed people? Who was going to do it again had you not been a witness.

“I—“ You whined, voice giving out and tears finally breaking the surface of your waterline. “I’ve seen you—,” The back of your head hit the metal door and you sobbed silently. “,—On the news.”

Outside the thin steel, Miles sighed, guilt weighing his chest down heavy. He got sloppy, and paid the price. His anger, rage toward these men. And what they’d planned to do to you — he’d say it was justified. You’d say it was monstrous.

“You kill people, Miles.”

His heart broke at the tone of your voice, the quiet sniffles and shortened sobs. The way your voice cracked and broke under the pressure of your open heart.

“Ma, I—“

“I don’t wan’ hear it.”

His hands rest on the cooled metal, forehead pressing against it as he sighed.

“Please let me in.”

“I can’t.”

“[Name]. Chiquita, por favor.”

He’d begged, ready to get on his knees and stand out in the 40° (104°) heat, and wait until you opened the door. Even if it took days.

Although,

“I’ll break in.”

“Wha—,” you cut yourself off in a sobbing laugh, rubbing at your tear tracked face. “Miles, That’s not a very good bargaining chip.”

He smiled, closing his eyes and loving the sweetened tone you held. You weren’t scared of him, you were scared of the Prowler.

“‘Made you laugh.”

His accent thickened over the words, dragging them out in a rasping hush. Something only for you to hear.

Your resolve was breaking, lungs slowing to a calmed lull as the adrenaline left your body. You didn’t break though— couldn’t.

“I can’t—,” You looked to the ceiling of your apartment’s ground floor, standing in an empty back room. “,—You’re not good, Miles.”

“You helped them, before.” Your brows furrowed, not of anger, but of betrayed desperation.

“You.. You just watched—“

“I know, baby, I know.”

He opened his eyes again, staring at the door like it had attacked you.

“Go upstairs, yeah?”

“Why—“

“Just go on, Ma.”

You huffed out a slow breath, fight draining from your being. You wanted to yell, to scream at him how wrong of a man he was. How he couldn’t risk everything he had for you, not now. Not as the estranged people you were.

You wanted to show the anger you never could, reach that brink of anguish until you’d finally given him what he’d wanted since your moment of meeting. But he no longer wanted that.

He’d always wanted you to break, now he just wants you.

“Okay.” You were breathless and tired, coerced.

He lifted his head quickly, hands splayed against cooled metal curling into fists, an excitement running through him like that of a promise.

—

A minute later you were opening the door to your apartment, and locking it behind you. Anxiously making your way to your bedroom, worried to see what was inside, When you stepped inside, you weren't exactly surprised when your eyes landed on Miles' face, what had surprised you though — was that he was hanging off your window sill with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Now will you let me in?" His voice muffled through the glass and you breathed out a quick gasp, "You— Miles, get down!"

"Down?" He smirked, letting one of his hands drop from the wooden sill. "Oh my god!"

You rushed towards your window, discarding your phone on your bed carelessly. You slid your window up, as Miles laughed, swaying from his one hand. "Jesus Miles— are you trying to kill yourself?!"

He crawled through and you grabbed his free hand, dragging him inside. "Get—.. get." Giving up on your scolding half way through, you quickly ushered him towards your bed and turned to close your window.

"When you said 'Go up.' I didn't think yo—"

"I'm sorry.'

Your hands were left floating above your windowsill, shaking in still air. Miles had come up behind you, hands resting over your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt. His face lowered towards your ear voice dipping with it.

"I know you're mad— hate me, all that. 'S okay. I know—,"

He slowly moved his arms further around your waist, watching your breath hitch and the feel of your pulse under the blow of his breath.

",—And I'm sorry."

"I don't hate you."

"You don't hate anyone."

You relaxed into his hold, tears brimming forth again.

"You keep—" "Scaring you." "Yeah." He dragged his left hand down, trailing his fingers over the skin of your arms and watching as the bumps rose along your flesh. You were entrancing.

"Are you scared now, Mami?" He grabbed your wrist in a gentle hold, swiping his bloodied thumb over your smooth skin. Your hand twitched, and his thumb stopped.

"No." You flipped your hand into his, linking your fingers together, careful to not agitate his bruises.

"Would you hurt me?" He reciprocated, closing his fist over your own, the flick of pain felt like nothing— not when the aching in his chest was finally being calmed.

"Never again."

—

DUDE MY PHONE IS FUCKING BROKEN LOLLL

no ending image today im on my laptop (fucking cries)

translator (bbg) @sataraxia

taglist!! @red-riot-rat , @stvrfir3 , @erensbbg , @umawooma , @wisteriaflowersss , @inejsknifes , @meowsannie , @manduse , @rainy-darling , @riya1161 , @key-zee , @toasttew , @em711 , @starsval , @gemma42 , @lovelymiaablogs

#miles morales x reader #spiderverse x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles x reader #earth42!miles x reader #earth42!miles #miles morales x you #miles g

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vioartemis · 1 year

Text

I'll die with you (part 7)

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: You finally put an end to this nightmare, and start a new life in New York, with a new 'hobby'. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 Warnings: Ghostface stuff, deaths, blood, etc (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

You got pushed forward harshly, stumbling into Sidney's arms. Damian was laying on the floor, unconscious, next to the old couch.

How did he even get caught?

You tried to go to him to see if he was okay, but were interrupted by Ghostface.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you"

You looked up to him, watching in horror as he pointed Sidney's gun at Tara's head, and took a step back.

"Go fuck yourselves, assholes! Don't you know the fans never win?" Mindy spat

"First, we're not 'fans'" the Ghostface near you said "And second, you might want to choose your words more wisely, Mindy."

The other Ghostface, the one holing Tara, took off his mask. Her mask.

Blond hair fell on her shoulders, free from the restraining mask.

"Surprise, my love" she said, smirking at Mindy

"Lexi...? I thought you said she got killed!" the brunette said to Tara

"That's what I thought...!" your girlfriend defended herself

"Wait, if Lexi is Ghostface... who's the other one?" her sister asked

The other killer took off his mask, to reveal...

"Who the fuck is that?" Sam asked

No one answered, sharing confused looks, until you finally spoke.

"Ayla... she's a classmate of mine... we have a few classes in common"

"What did you do to make her want to kill you?"

"Nothing! We barely ever talked." you turned to face the killer "Why are you doing this...?"

"Oh, now you're interested in me?" she huffs "You really are a bunch of hypocrites"

You all looked at her, pure confusion on your faces.

"We've been in the same class for 4 years. And not once you paid attention to me. I bet you didn't even notice I was missing last year. But I'm getting carried away, that's not the reason I'm doing this."

"What's your motive then? Why did you even bring me here?" Sid asked "Let me guess, the movies made you do it?"

"These stupid movies? I couldn't care less about the movies! I'm taking my revenge on you all. For what you did to me."

"'For what we did to you'? We don't even know who you are!"

"That's the problem!" Ayla replied, anger rising in her voice

"What do you mean?"

"Last year, my mom's hometown lived a nightmare. We lived a nightmare. We got trapped in the mall, and some guys started to kill everyone. The Woodwork massacre? Rings a bell? Of course not. Because at the same time, you were being attacked. And who cares about a little town when there's another massacre in Woodsboro? No one! No one cared about what happened! Journalists were supposed to come and cover the events. Your mom was supposed to come and cover the events. But because of you all, the medias rushed here and forgot us."

"'Because of us'? Do you think we wanted this?!"

You got cut off by Ayla pressing her knife against your throat.

"I don't care what you wanted. My story was forgotten because of you. And I'm going to kill you all for that."

"And how do you this you'll get away with it?"

"We have the perfect scapegoat here, thanks to you, and your suspicions." she said, pointing Damian

"What does this have to do with you...?" Mindy suddenly asked the blonde

"Me? I'm just here for the adrenaline. We weren't working together at first; we had the same target, some cops, and killed them together. Then we talked, and I agreed to help her."

"You're fucking crazy... Both of you." you said

"Yeah? Whose fault is that, hm? You're the ones to blame for it." Ayla replied, a crazy smirk on her face "You'll tell that to your mom, hm? That, and how you couldn't save yourself, like you couldn't save her either."

When you understood that she was the one who killed your mom, you saw red.

You grabbed the girl's wrist with force, almost breaking the bone, and kicked her in the stomach, sending her a few meters away, her knife falling on the floor.

Lexi was too shocked by your move, and didn't see Sam coming and got punched hard, making her let go of Tara. But the blonde was quick to react, and tried to shoot Sam, who dodged. The bullet hit Mindy, who fell to the ground.

The blonde looked at Sam and ran after her. Tara tried to follow them, but Sidney intervened.

"Help your friend, I'll take care of your sister"

Tara hesitated a second, before nodding and looking at you.

"It's okay baby, I'll handle her and protect Damian. Take Mindy outside and try to bandage her up."

"But-"

"Please. I don't want you to get hurt..."

She was about to protest again, but finally gave in and went to Mindy. At the same moment, Ayla got up, rage visible on her face, and rushed to you, trying to punch you.

You dodged, and grabbed the nearest object - an old little table - and slammed it on her head.

"Go, quick!" you said to Tara, while the killer was on the floor, trying to get up

You gave a last look to Tara when Mindy and her walked past the door, before concentrating again.

A shiny object caught your attention, partially hidden under a cupboard. The knife she dropped earlier. Taking advantage of her confusion, you rushed to it.

The handle fit perfectly in your hand, as if it had been made for you. The knife wasn't too heavy nor too light, just the perfect weight to be used in the most efficient way.

You turned to face the girl, knife in hand.

"What are you going to do with that? Kill me?" she smirked "You wouldn't dare"

You took a step closer and grabbed her hair, forcing her to look at you.

"Wanna bet?" you asked before stabbing her in the stomach with force

The cry she let out as the blade sank in her flesh was so pathetic, so miserable, it almost made you smile.

"Did I hurt you?" you asked with innocent eyes

"Fuck you."

"Oh, no no no, that's not what we say"

You twisted the knife, causing blood to splatter on you and on the floor, exactly like when she attacked you. Except this time you were the one holding the knife.

"I said, 'did I hurt you?'. What do we say?"

She looked at you, teeth clenched, determined not to give you what you wanted. You rolled your eyes and twisted the knife again.

"What do we say?"

"Yes, you're hurting me! F-fuck..."

She was losing a lot of blood. You would have to be quick.

"See, it wasn't that hard."

You pulled the knife out of her stomach. More blood gushed out of the wound.

Your grip on her hair didn't loosen; it grew even stronger, as you pulled her towards the nearest wall and slammed her head against it.

"How does it feel, huh? Having your head slammed against a wall?" you sank the blade in her side "Sounds familiar?"

You pulled out the knife and stabbed her in the leg and in the arm. Her cries and whimpers were music to your ears. As you pulled her head back, ready to slam it against the wall again, you heard Tara's voice.

"Y/n?"

You turned around, covered in Ayla's blood.

"What are you doing...?"

"I just-"

"Yeah, Y/n, explain to her how you're trying to kill me and enjoying it" Ayla groaned, trying to free herself from your grip

"Shut your fucking mouth." you growled

"I know you're not like that, baby... You will regret it later..."

You slowly pull the blade out of the girl, a fistful of her hair still in hand, holding her in front of you.

"... Maybe I will... But..." you looked at your girlfriend, pain visible in your eyes "She killed my mom, so..."

You sank the blade in the girl's throat, not letting Tara react to what you just said.

"Who's dying alone now, huh?" you whispered with a slight smirk, pulling the knife out

Blood splattered on your face and clothes as your grip on her hair loosened, letting her fall to the ground. You looked at her, oh so pathetic now, helpless.

God it felt good to get your revenge done.

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

A year after these events, your little friend group had moved to New York, in hope to have a better life there. And it was working. Mindy, Damian, Tara and you started college like normal people. Not victims, not survivors, just new students.

It was comforting to know that all the Ghostface stuff was behind you.

This city gave you plenty of date ideas, and without the fear of getting attacked at every corner, Tara and you spent most of your time outside, visiting and having romantic little moments together.

But since that very night at Woodsboro, something in you had snapped. This thing had followed you here, leading you to start a new 'hobby'.

You couldn't tell anyone, they wouldn't understand. They would call you crazy, say you had lost your mind.

So, you kept it all a secret, hidden in a wooden box under your bed.

The first three months, everything when well. You were doing a great job keeping your activities a secret. Until that night.

As always, you had packed your bag and waited until Tara fell asleep to sneak out by your bedroom's window. You did what you had to do, and two hours later, you were back in your room.

Little did you know that Tara was awake, waiting for you. She was sitting on the bed, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow as she saw you climbing back in.

You didn't have any other choice and told her everything. And let's say that her reaction surprised you; she offered to join you in your nightlife.

You couldn't hide your shock, your jaw was on the floor. You had think about this moment so many times, and yet, she still managed to say something you hadn't think of. Evert time, she ended up leaving you, in your scenarios.

From this night on, you had a partner in crime. And you had to admit it; she was really good at that.

Two months after Tara joined you, on a 'break night' as you called it, you were cuddling on your bed, when Sam called your names. Hearing the tone of her voice, you quickly made your way to the living room.

"What's wrong?" Tara asked

"Remember the news saying that someone wearing a Ghostface costume had been spotted at night across the city?"

"Yeah, we all agreed it was some freak joking around. Why?"

Sam just pointed the tv, and you both looked at the screen. Someone had just been murdered, and according to the security cameras, the killer was wearing a Ghostface costume.

You turned to Tara, eyes filled with worry. You could say you were both thinking about the same thing, by the way she looked at you.

The bow under your bed hadn't been opened in a week, and none of you acted alone.

That could only mean one thing.

You were not the only Ghostfaces in New York.

~ maybe the end? ~

[Previous part]

×º°”˜`”°º×•°¯`•• ♡ ••´¯°•×º°”˜`”°º×

a/n: before anyone sues me for Ghostface's identity, the lack of 'screen time' she got is meant to mirror the confusion of the group, and the lack of attention she got after what happened to her (kind of foreshadowing (?))

@karsonromanoff @cheesybacon1 @liaaa-1

#scream #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader

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bingoboingobongo · 1 year

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task force 141 + new years

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Warnings: none

A/N: um the pre new years depression is hitting me hard so im gonna listen to the same music a hs boy would to make it better. see you guys next year :)

alright so good lord i don't think anyone in the task force can really accept that it's already new years oh god

like they're all really busy all the time and so the year has a tendency to just fly by

that being said the task force is more than ready to say goodbye to 2022 and say hello to 2023

of course soap is the first to propose a new year's party

complete with lots of champagne, new years resolutions, and of course lots of celebrating

and yes they will all be passed out and hungover come morning

anyways

simon "ghost" riley:

alright so even though he isn't a party person in the spirit of growth ghost decides to attend the entirety of soap's little party

and you know what it was a really good idea

his new year resolution this year was to try and open up a little more

obviously he's still gonna be ghost when it comes to work, but with the people he loves he's gonna try and lower his walls a little

anyways it turns out to be a pretty fun decision

leading up to midnight he's still pretty much his old ghost self

not really getting into the party too much, sorta just lurking in the corners, you get it

but after the ball drops and everyone else is getting even more and more drunk

ghost lets himself loose a little

definitely starts drinking and interacting more

and by the end of the night he's almost completely out of his shell

turns out with enough alcohol even ghost becomes just another regular guy

he's cracking really bad jokes, laughing at everyone else's really bad jokes, and generally just having a really good time

and yes if you guys are together he will give you a new years kiss

even if he has sneak away to do it

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so soap is really hyped for new years

he's pregaming way before he needs to pregame let's be honest

and when the festivities do start you know soap's gonna be the life of the party

he's definitely getting into way too many drinking games than he should lol

it doesn't take him very long to get stupid drunk

when midnight comes he's screaming the loudest during the countdown

he's had enough of this year and he is more than ready to send it off

and when the ball drops he is screaming as loud as possible

will definitely immediately give you a kiss too

this year soap's new years resolution is to make the most out of every day

it's kinda a cop out resolution he'll admit but that's the one he sets pretty much every year so it's practically tradition at this point

besides he thinks he does a pretty good job completing it

he's a lot more familiar than he would like with how easy it is to die

i mean he is in life or death scenarios like every other week

so it's just important for him that he goes out with no regrets

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright so gaz gets pretty introspective during the new years

like before all the partying and the alcohol comes out he likes to take the time to step back and really analyze the year

he tries to make each year better than the last and so he always looks at last year's shortcomings to see where he needs to improve

this year his new year's resolution is to fall out of less helicopters

just kidding

his resolution is to try and spend more time with you and his family

this year gaz is all about showing the people he loves just how much he cares about them

after his many near death experiences, he's realized that the next day really isn't promised and it's important to let people know how much you love them

that being said when it gets to the party any introspective is gone for the night

gaz is ready to get drunk and have a good time

he's definitely doing karaoke after a few drinks

and when the ball drops get ready to experience the most mind blowing kiss ever

john price:

alright so like gaz price tends to get pretty introspective during the new years

part of it is just who he is and part of it comes from his military training

he's always trying to be better and improve

and so his new year's resolutions are chances for him to do that

this year his resolution is to increase his mentorship when it comes to the task force

he trusts that ghost can be a good successor if he dies, but he also wants to make sure gaz and soap are prepared as well

ik it's kinda a bummer way to start the year, preparing for your own death, but it's the military what can i say

that being said any pre new years angst is out the window when it's time to start the party

price may be prepared to die but he's also prepared to start the year off right

he's very very happy counting down the seconds with a drink in his hand and his arm wrapped around you

and you can feel him smile against you as he gives you your new years kiss

alejandro vargas:

alright so tbh idk where the origins of this superstition come from but ive heard of a lot of hispanic people doing it so ig it fits

but alejandro is definitely getting under the table and eating his grapes

him and rudy too because they've done it together every year since they met

honestly he's not too big on new years resolutions just because he feels like he always ends up being so busy with work he ends up forgetting

so he just lets his grape wishes do the work for him lol

some of the things he's wishing for is being alive (duh), wealth, love, etc.

i mean it's really all the classics

when it comes to the party alejandro is ready to get drunk and have a good time

definitely cheers pretty loudly once it strikes midnight

is also a big fireworks enthusiast

you'll have to sit under the table with him if you want a new years kiss tho sorry

he'll give you a quick peck, eat all his grapes, and then give you a better kiss once he's done

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

alright rudy's definitely the kind of guy to get sad during new years

and honestly me too rudy me too

idk man rudy just feels like the years go by way too fast

so this year his new year's resolution is to make more memories to make the year seem longer

like alejandro he also gets under the table and does the grape thing

it's something alejandro taught him when they first met and it's one of his favorite traditions

he gets very stressed about eating all the grapes tho

but usually if he rushes he can get them all in

he'll kiss you once he's done with his grapes that way he can focus all his attention on you

and the party is honestly a great way for him to start of his new year's resolution off right and fight off the new year depression

because it's pretty hard to be depressed when he's around a group of people as amazing as you and the task force

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jacksprostate · 4 months

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having finished rewatching the movie recently, me and @a-forsteri I think nailed down a little about what fundamentally is different about the dynamic between the narrator and Tyler in the book vs the movie. Beyond the book being more violent and dark and the narrator being much less reserved about participating in all of it, I mean.

Fundamentally, the strife between Tyler and the narrator in the book is the narrator's failure to commit to anything. Blowing up his old life — blew up his condo, still goes to work. Saying fuck you to his job — acts like shit, takes until Tyler intervenes to actually 'quit' (he doesn't but Tyler does kill his boss so basically). Hell, even hating his job — he does, plenty, but he stores all his feelings about his boss in Tyler and pretends Tyler's feelings have no source in him. Pursuing his ideal of changing things — joins and creates fight club, project mayhem, immediately backs out once Tyler is shown to not be real. He does project mayhem assignments, doesn't even quit his real job. Tyler does it. A gift to him. The thing he wanted to do before he died. Thinks about suicide constantly — doesn't actually kill himself, never fully lives, either. Killing Tyler — he tries repeatedly because he gets it in his head, but fails repeatedly until he shoots himself to evade the cops. And that in itself is arranged by Tyler. Tyler tries leaving the narrator and that does manage to make the narrator commit to being fucking annoying, but not much more. Still not actually making choices with impact. The narrator had to know the fight club men wouldn't kill him. He backed away from the edge. Tyler ultimately creates a circumstance to force the narrator to choose and commit to life or death. Tyler is trying to make the narrator better even if it means the narrator chooses to kill them and even if it means Tyler is the evil guy intending to martyr them — if that's what's needed for the narrator to choose, then fine.

In contrast, the movie focuses more on his inability to let go of his old life. Slide. Tyler will haul him kicking and screaming and one day the narrator will thank him. Tyler says relax, let me do what I'm doing. The narrator can't let go — gets cold feet about mayhem, can't imaine sex with Marla, quits his job but only on orders of his new boss. Refuses to grow beyond him. Dependent as always. He can't let go of it. Tyler gives him a near life experience, tells him about the future he is crafting for him, and leaves him to sleep as Tyler works to secure their future. All the narrator has to do is let it happen. Let himself become the person who is free to change his life. Let himself evolve and break things, stop clinging to his past. Again, Tyler is trying to make the narrator better. They are less separate— Tyler doesn't ever tell the narrator that he has essentially given up on him, they're going to live separate lives now, he says the narrator has to forget everything he knows about them. And when he tells the narrator the truth, he says we don't have time for this. He will hold the narrator down, he will put a gun to his head if that's what it takes to force the narrator to let go and let it all happen. It is all always steps in his plan. For the narrator.

Both Tylers, making little chrysalises.

Book Tyler? I don't know if he wants the narrator to become him. He's more independent. He still cares, the narrator is still his purpose, but it was the narrator's refusal of Tyler giving up on him that provoked Tyler to his artfully megalomaniac ending.

Movie Tyler, he does. He wants the narrator to grow, become what he wants to be. That's Tyler Durden. Maybe they merge. But The point is— if the narrator would let go of who he was, every step takes him closer to who he wants to be. Tyler. And Tyler has less actions that speak of his own desires and grown independence, even with how much he does and plans, because it's all for the narrator.

Tl;dr

Book: narrator's lack of commitment, more independent Tyler, narrator pushes them into the climax

Movie: narrator's unwillingness to let go, less of Tyler as an individual more as the vehicle for the narrator's enlightenment into him, Tyler pushes them into the climax

Both: Tyler ultimately acts to benefit the narrator as he sees it

#fight club #probably rambly

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onthepyre · 27 days

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how do mafia Svet and Mickey meet? are they instant bestie worsties or does it take some time for them to grow on each other? does Svet interact with any of the Gallaghers or just Mickey? (I also need you to know that firefighter Debbie is INSPIRED and I adore it.) how do Mickey and Ian end up getting together—is it a meet cute, a meet ugly, or maybe it's through Mandy somehow? and speaking of, how does Mandy fit into this au? (I love this whole au concept and I hope you don't mind me asking all the questions!)

okay okay. much to think about. i do not mind all the questions in fact i love them im so happy that this au has resonated with people!! i have a lot of thoughts so forgive me for the long post.

svet and mickey met in their late teens (she's like 19, he's about 17) i think. she was living off survival sex work, much like in the show; the person she worked for directly was operating under terry. mickey came in at some point to collect dues and while he was there an argument started up between svet and her client. he got in the middle of it, both for money's sake and because it's shitty to act like that, but the fact that she was willing to take on this 6'3" dude impressed mickey. the fact that she chewed him out for scaring away her client pissed him off, but the whole event was a foundation of rapport between them. every week when he came in for terry's fistfuls of cash, they would chat, and it developed into proper frenemy-ship. for both of them, it was nice to have a confidante as well as someone who was willing to call them out on their bullshit. the rest is history basically.

as far as their interactions with the gallaghers: fiona actually sees very little of either of them. she spends more time around colin, who's in charge of the gambling ring. mickey and svet are an implied presence. post-college loan, it's svet who sees lip and carl a lot - she's way less likely to outright threaten a cop when they come knocking, so everyone (gallaghers and milkoviches alike) tries to make sure she's the spokesperson. debbie doesn't have a ton of contact with them, but when she does, it's mickey, hightailing it away from burning buildings or cars or barrels. she keeps her mouth shut.

and of course, ian.

well, okay, let's start with mandy actually. i mentioned confidence tricks in the other post - this is mandy's jam. romance scammer of epic proportions. catfish, yeah, but also blackmailer and high-end pickpocket (think that robbery mickey and ian pulled in s4, but often subtler). the long-con stuff didn't start until she was old enough to pass for 20s, but she swiped her first wallet when she was 12 and has been living for it since then.

her first meeting with ian is very much like what happens in canon: she flirts with him in school, takes it a little too far, and he brushes her off. he comes out to her pretty much immediately, though, and they resolve to remain friends. around winter break that year, when ian is 15 or 16, the gallaghers hit a rough patch - this is before anyone has steady jobs, and a strike by hurricane monica leaves them barely scraping by. so mandy offers to talk to her brothers about finding work for ian. this is how, five years before he's allowed to drink, he ends up bartending at a mafia front.

ian and mickey are, by gallavich nature, deeply messy for a very long time. their first time is a late night at the bar; it’s nearing the end of the night, things are starting to clear out, but mickey is hanging around and he's being a dick. he's rowdy, loud, angry about something and mouthing off to just about everyone, ian very much included. ian's fed up with it - tells him to shut the fuck up, get the fuck out, or if mickey's really that pissed, give him an hour to close down and they can hash it out. so mickey shuts up and waits. as soon as everyone else is gone, mickey is swinging; it’s a pretty evenly matched fight, but ian gets pinned to the wall. there's a couple seconds of charged eye contact......... and then mickey's fumbling with the button on his pants and ian's shirt is off and okay, fuck, they're doing this.

their fuckbuddy era lasts until ian quits to go to emt school - they go a couple years without contact, but things do pick back up. but that deserves its own post.

#milkovich crime family #shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #svetlana yevgenivna #ian gallagher #mandy milkovich #i will probably actually write the Bar Moment sometime. i love this au dearly

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junokami · 1 year

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MAJOR SPOILERS FOR "WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST READ" AND "IF THIS BOOK EXISTS YOU'RE IN THE WRONG UNIVERSE"

See below for more thoughts about BATMANTIS??? and how it relates to David's depression.

A while ago, I came across a Q&A between Jason Pargin and some Goodreads users. I was interested by the following exchange:

I honestly feel like this explains everything about the third book. Having just read the fourth book (this post will contain spoilers for the whole series), I think it's safe to say we know what the BATMANTIS??? is: David. As I read the series, the third book in its entirety is the most dubious of all the books as to whether it really happened. I personally think the whole thing was made up, but some might disagree.

I went back through and did find several examples of intervention scenes. Obviously, David's intervention first comes to mind. We see a group of bikers give a tearful intervention to a woman about half-way through. Joy flushes John's drugs down the toilet, causing him to go berserk. Though I can't find it now, I remember reading about an intervention that happened on TV, maybe near the end? All of this sets up for Dave's intervention, and like everything in this book, it ends in uncertainty. Maybe even disappointment if you felt similarly to me. The "children" are allowed to survive, Ted's death is scorned by his wife, it's outright said that the Millibutt has only been contained, not killed entirely. It's exactly what it says on the tin. What the hell did I just read?

The answer to this can be found when we look at the cast's perception of the monster over the course of the book. Amy's is the most important because it's her emotional state that we see most often expressed in the series, and the one we can recognize the easiest.

After seeing the video for the first time, Amy immediately tries to deny everything. She tells Dave that everything will be okay, that they can fix it all. Some of the things she suggests are farfetched given the context. For example, the cops never recognize that the trio are telling the truth, much less apologize for not believing them. She bursts into tears a few lines later, so it's obvious she's lying to herself about how grave the situation is.

It's not until the BATMANTIS??? shows up in the last portion of the book that we get to really look at how Amy and David's perspectives differ. Amy treats it with kindness even after it attempts to attack her. She sees its hostility as a defense mechanism because it's scared and confused. David, however, takes it for a moral failing on the side of the monster. He is angry they have to deal with the monster, seeing the whole situation as pointless and aggravating.

This reminds me of Amy's calling David's depression a "sadness demon". In her opinion, both entities are looking for misery. All attempts to physically fight it or dismiss it as a trivial issue just make it stronger. BATMANTIS??? easily overtakes David even though he has a figurative boner over how bad he wants the creature dead. It almost seems like he's fighting with himself, calling the monster a mistake and an asshole which we know from his thoughts are adjectives he would certainly use to describe himself. David says that he can kill BATMANTIS??? from the inside; isn't his depression doing the same to him?

Here, a parallel can be drawn to what happens in the intervention. Amy is on her last straw with the situation. She's making an ultimatum, offering one last chance before she takes serious action.

We see Amy go from immediate horror when she realizes what's happening, to denial and depression, to trying to get rid of BATMANTIS??? by herself, to finally issuing an ultimatum. This is her exact process with David's depression.

By contrast, David tries to kill the creature by himself and with brute force; when this fails, he tells Amy to run away and attempts to give up his life. Like BATMANTIS???, David doesn't understand his depression very well. He blames a lot of the things caused by his depression on himself. He tries to fight through it on his own and thinks that he's failed because he can't. In reality, forcing yourself through depression is literally impossible.

David's depression is certainly at its peak in book three. He contemplates suicide on a daily basis, he's short-tempered and irrational with the people he loves, and it can't be ignored anymore. You might even call it the BATMANTIS??? in the room. (Bad joke sorry) It's not a coincidence that this is the same time BATMANTIS??? appears to us. It represents his depression at its worst: a living creature that feeds on everything around it. No wonder David has such a vendetta against it.

Jason Purgin says it best: this is a story of an intervention. Once we take away the details that John, Dave, and Amy created to distract the cops, the truth is left. The real fight is the one being waged against David's depression, one that only started once his depression hit a point that turned him into someone else entirely, once John and Amy couldn't look past it any longer. In this book, we don't learn who won the fight. But in the sequel, we do.

David is taking Lexapro. Getting treatment. He seems happier with his loved ones at his side and has some hope for the future. If he was as depressed as he was in the previous book, the knowledge that John had died in every other timeline would have completely destroyed him instead of giving him the motivation to go back and try again. Of course, he's still depressed, but things are starting to look up.

Along with this, he learns to handle his "monster side" with Joy's help. He willingly summons it in order to kill Dalton and is very confident about his ability to control it. For now, I think David is winning the fight.

#MAJOR SPOILERS #jdate #john dies at the end #what the hell did i just read #if this book exists you're in the wrong universe #BATMANTIS???

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darkdoverpseeker · 4 months

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🕊️Hi there! I’m 19 years old and use any pronouns. I’m searching for a M/M oc x oc rp.

I have this idea I’ve been dying to rp and I hope it interests some of y’all!

-It’s a horror romance rp that takes place in a small town. There is a group of friends that are very close and are composed of the usual horror character types: jocks, cheerleaders, punk, etc.

YC has been hopelessly pining over MC for years. They are childhood friends. Most friends in the group were either loners or general outcasts until MC and another character got into relationships with a jock and cheerleader which made them get more popular. MC is with the jock while YC is with the cheerleader. MC is the one who set YC with her after YC, in an attempt of trying to forget his crush on mc, ended up picking randomly and named the cheerleader who was already sort of friends with the friend group. She was a sweet girl who had a heart of gold, but yc couldn’t get himself to love her, much less like her as a fling. MC and the jock are in a sort of secret relationship as the jock is very much embarrassed and ashamed of liking another guy. The town itself is filled with homophobes and overall your regular “jolly” folks with some decent people. MC doesn’t really seem bothered by his boyfriend’s actions of hiding him from everyone else except the friend group. Unlike the cheerleader, the jock was just an asshole that the group tolerates for mc’s sake since he seems to have some attachment. MC has a warped view on love that his friend’s aren’t fully aware of. Having grown up in an abusive household with parents that did nothing but treat each other in the worst ways, he began viewing their abusive and violent actions towards each other as love. He’s been in a couple toxic relationships that wouldn’t last long. After his friends found out about his first toxic relationship, they got him out of it and tried to help him but because of his warped view on love, he thought his lover’s behavior was normal and thought that the others just didn't understand so from then on, he never told them about his relationships again. But anyways, yc is very jealous of the jock and tries to ignore it and focus on his own relationship but is finding it hard to. A week later, people are starting to disappear and end up dead brutally in the woods. Cops at first think this is the work of an animal as it looks like any gruesome animal attack plus there's no evidence to say otherwise. No fingerprints, no footprints, nothing. Then again..there was no evidence that proved it was an animal. No tracks, no fur left behind besides that of small wildlife that passed by. But the cops just ruled it as an animal attack anyway. Then as more time passes, more bodies are being found in the woods. But the group starts noticing that the most recent murders are of people they know outside of the group, the most recent being a friend of the jock till the jock ends up dead only a day after.

-I’m skipping through parts as to not make it even more long-

Who’s the killer? None other than YC..but at the same time not.

YC’s crush, his love for MC had been twisted into obsession. That obsession and jealousy had manifested itself into an entity. A demon. YC has been having blackouts and when he wakes up, he’s in a different place and covered in blood and lying near a dead body. The cause of those blackouts are the demon taking control of yc's body and going out to kill. To sum it up, yc’s demon that is attached to him is a manifestation of ycs love that was corrupted and turned into obsession. He won’t stop at nothing till he has mc all to himself. One by one the people in the friend group are being picked off. MC ends up having only his best friend, yc, to turn to which is what the demon wants.

This is very badly summarized so I am sorry about that-

I would like to have nsfw with yc as the top! Dark themes are very much encouraged.

Like this and I’ll reach out!

like if interested !

#fandomless rp #oc x oc #m x m #horror rp #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #rp #roleplay #1x1 rp

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prpfs · 4 months

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💀Hi there! I’m 19 years old and use any pronouns. I’m searching for a M/M oc x oc rp.

I have this idea I’ve been dying to rp and I hope it interests some of y’all!

-It’s a horror romance rp that takes place in a small town. There is a group of friends that are very close and are composed of the usual horror character types: jocks, cheerleaders, punk, etc.

-I’m skipping through parts as to not make it even more long-

Who’s the killer? None other than YC..but at the same time not.

This is very badly summarized so I am sorry about that-

I would like to have nsfw with yc as the top! Dark themes are very much encouraged.

Like this and I’ll reach out!

like if you're interested and op will reach out

#oc rp #oc roleplay #ocxoc rp #original rp #fandomless rp #fandomless roleplay #dead dove

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romanxdrake · 9 months

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sleepness nights and sleepless days, pill bottles hidden in the glove box, skin marred with scars both old and new, deafening silence, crossing the yellow crime scene tape, another pot of coffee for another long night, the fallen son, missing persons fliers, a dog without a muzzle that bites and bites and bites.

❝ I'm not a hero. I don't do good, it's not in me. ❞

supply list: rope, duct tape and zip ties, pain pills and benzos, a few guns that definitely aren't in his name. the guy travels light and packs like a serial killer i don't know what to tell you.

Gender & Pronouns: Cis Male & He/Him Sexuality: Questioning Birthplace: Las Vegas Room #: Apt. 303 Years at the Wexley: 0

roman was raised in the city of sin by a family that seemed to take the name a little too literally: drugs. jail. gangs. violence. there wasn’t much in the criminal underground that the drakes didn’t have their fingers in. the second youngest of six kids, roman was expected to do his part in the family business just as those before him had–but even as a kid roman had his doubts about the lifestyle; growing disoriented as family members came and went to county, their criminal records growing longer every year. he was twenty-three when he finally had enough of the bullshit. roman had known for a long time that his family weren’t good people, it just never occurred to him that he had the option to break the pattern.

becoming a cop hadn’t been his first idea, but at the time it was the biggest fuck you he could think of to send to his family. roman became more or less dead to the drakes, ex-communicated the moment he stepped foot into the police academy. he tried a few awkward attempts at reaching out to his sisters, but he never really knew birdie and mauve was busy trying to make a life of her own. eventually he took a page from mauve’s book, moving to california and starting a life of his own. marriage was hard, and having a kid on the way only made things harder. he took his job at cold cases seriously and made the wrong priorities in life; there are only so many long nights you can spend alone before you go looking for someone to fill the space left by an absent spouse. roman and delilah had been on the verge of ending things for a while, but the events that happened the night june was born ensured their relationship was over.

roman doesn’t remember the night in its entirety–only coming home to see his wife and a stranger in the midst of an argument, then flashes of a golf club swinging at him. when roman awoke in the hospital several days later he was terrified to learn just how much he’d lost in the attack: his marriage, his hearing, and quite possibly his daughter, who was now fighting for her life in the icu after being born months too early. the official report was attempted murder-suicide, a jealous lover who wanted to kill the woman who’d ended their affair. roman was devastated, knowing that he’d drove delilah away from him and nearly put her and their daughter into an early grave. they'd tried counseling. couples, individual, ptsd. fucking art therapy for a month--because he owed her that much. in the end they agreed there was no way to put the pieces of what they had back together. delilah would take june and go live with her parents, but roman could have shared custody if he promised not to get her hopes up of having a father in her life then ghosting. roman quit the force, went private. went dark. hurt people who hurt people, that kind of thing. he developed a reputation as someone willing to work outside the lines of the law and birdie was able to put him in contact with people who needed that kind of help.

he was in new york to meet with birdie and follow up on a new job when the city went into lockdown. he's taken up in an apartment on the lowest floor to keep an eye on things near the lobby, because he has a real bad feeling about how things are heading in the city.

Previous zombie experience: N/A

#he does in fact have good in him #dramatic ass bitch #bnyintro

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not-close-to-straight · 1 year

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Eddie hesitated, and Steve lowered his voice ordering, “I’m not asking, Eddie. Not about this. It’s mandatory, alright? I’m not-- I’m not kidding. You have to come along. It’s my job to keep you safe, so get your ass up, grab your backpack and lets get to the car. Now.”

“Um--” Eddie felt awkward sprawled on the bed with Steve looming over him demanding. It was an entire upset of their usual dynamic, Steve’s eyes were flinty and his jaw set, hands digging into his jeans as he tried for control and patience, unyielding in his decision and Eddie was-- Eddie was a little bit speechless.

He knew about this side of Steve, of course, everyone did. This was the same Steve that took on demo-anythings, the same one who didn’t crack under torture with the Russians, the same one that had torn a demobat to pieces and dragged Eddie half dead out of the Upside Down to save him.

It was just...Eddie had gotten so used to saving Steve, he’d almost forgotten that Steve was used to saving everyone else.

“Steve.” Eddie wet his lips slowly, suddenly wishing he was wearing more than a towel so he’d feel less naked practically submitting to his-- to his submissive. “I uh--I--”

“Look.” Steve sat back on his heels and dragged both hands through his hair. “Look. You can either come willingly, or I swear to god, I’ll chloroform your ass and drag you over there unconscious. Which is it gonna be?”

GOD! I love this side of Steve so much! It has me a bit speechless too to be honest! Damn, he's so hot when he's in charge! 😍

I LOVE this side of Steve. I really love Asshole Era Season 2 Steve, and of course we all adore Babygirl Era Season 3 Steve but there is something very very good about Season four Steve.

I am finishing up a rewatch of season four with one of my other readers and we've been doing 'watch dates' since season two and one of the things we picked up on was how quickly Steve dials into that danger and steps up every single season. Like seasons one he didn't get his hero moment until near the end of the season, understandably so, he didn't know what was going on. Season two it happens a little faster. Season three it happens a little faster. Season four he goes from "maybe we let the cops handle it" to literally chauffering people around to various crime scenes and making grocery lists to help out Hawkins Most Wanted Eddie all within about 24 hours. Every single time the UD comes back, Steve jumps into action faster and faster and every time he jumps into action, he gets more and more lethal.

So Rest!Steve who can't stop patrolling, can't stop planning, can't stop over thinking-- Rest!Steve finally finds some peace in Eddie's arms but the very second it's a question of "Safety" vs a matter of "can we be naked", he snaps immediately into Protector Mode, even going so far as to outright disrespect his Dom which is a HUGE no no but 1) that's not really how Steddie is in this fic and 2) relationship dynamics just don't matter when it comes to life and death issues.

And it really speaks to the strength of not just their relationship, but also their FRIENDSHIP that Eddie admires Steve for the behavior, listens to Steve and OBEYS Steve all without getting fussy about the disrespect and all without requiring an apology or any sort of reset to their dynamic.

Y'all know a constant and repeated theme in all my fics is that unconditional acceptance and this scene with Steddie is a really good example of that.

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breannacasey · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday

I'm writing again and I thought I'd share a bit of something I've been working on for a few months. It's for the Hex/Curse/Magic Spell square of my 911 Bingo card (that you can see here). I'm a little nervous sharing a bit of this one, because maybe this work stands better as a whole, but if you don't like this bit then you wouldn't make it to the end anyway.

TK didn’t wake up for another day, but eventually he did come back to consciousness. Relief washed over Owen despite the difficult conversation that now presented itself to him. He needed to come clean. It had been two near-death experiences in less than a year for his son and TK deserved to know why.

“Dad, what’s wrong? Why the grave face? I feel fine.”

“There’s something I need to tell you… about Lorraine.”

“Lorraine? Your ex wife? I thought she was long past. What’s going on?”

“Lorraine’s a witch…”

“What?”

“And I hurt her so terribly she decided to curse me. Curse me and my descendants…”

“But I never did anything to her. We got along, why would she put a curse on me? Just to hurt you?”

“Yes. She said nothing would hurt me more than to watch you suffer.”

“That…” TK took a breath to recenter himself. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“The curse… she cursed us to be particularly accident prone. To be danger magnets.”

Owen broke temporarily. A tear escaped his eye and he tried to hide it from his son, but he didn’t think it worked. Thankfully, TK didn’t say anything, likely still trying to wrap his head around the entire situation.

“I thought you might be immune, but then all of those sports injuries… Part of me hoped one of them would keep you from becoming a firefighter, but nothing stopped you. Even when you got injured right before starting, you just spent time as a paramedic, and it lead you to become a dual medic and firefighter and I am so proud of you. But also terrified because this life is dangerous and our curse makes it worse.” After a long comforting hug, Owen decided to leave TK to rest, after all he had just survived getting shot, and needed to process the bomb he’d just dropped on him. Besides, the cop was there, his face distraught. Carlos Reyes cared for his son and he needed time with him.

#wip wednesday #911bingo #my writing #my post

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leonawriter · 2 years

Text

Personal opinions on the Akira/female social link options!

Reminder that all opinions are my own, and if you don’t agree then you’re entitled to your opinion but this is my post, thank you~

Second disclaimer: I personally read Akira as gay and potentially only coming into this during the events of the game, as shown in a couple of my more canon compliant fics, but for the sake of argument I’m just going “what if” here. This is, I’ll freely admit, mostly just a list of “why I don’t think it’d work,” but there’s also a few bits of “if it were to work, here’s what I think it’d need to address” too.

I’m also going to list off my preferred ships for the characters, but this isn’t a matter of “your ship bad because my ship good” it’s just my take on dynamics between Akira and the girls in this kind of way.

First off, Ann. Now, I love Ann. The problem here is that Ann’s confidant revolves around a) Shiho, and b) her coming to take her modelling seriously. I like her confidant, but the Rank 10 is where it goes wonky, as Akira’s just watching on as these two girls say goodbye and “I love you” which is not very platonic of them. Honestly? I think that Ann is either lesbian or bi, I’m fine with either take, but when she asks that of him in her Rank 10 she isn’t actually in love, I think she’s just in need of a close friend and confidant since her best friend is now going away. There should be the option to say “you’re not going to be alone” without making it “me” vs. “them.”

I prefer shipping Ann with either Shiho or Ryuji or both.

Makoto is an interesting one because I tend to see-saw between “yeah, I can see them trying this out” and “oh god no, this is a bad idea.” I can see the former because I don't see either of them really understanding what they want from a relationship, so this wouldn't be a “partner found, mission over” sort of thing. They’d be figuring things out, and then they’d realise they’re better off with someone else, probably. The problem comes in with Makoto not really seeing that she’s bringing up her desire to be a cop with... someone who has Cop Trauma. I ca see there being major issues later on down the line if they ever tried to get serious, because of a breakdown in communication. I can see her thinking that things are going fine, while Akira is suffering. Not good! (Also notable is that the whole Nov. 20th plan is partly on her, and they’d have to communicate about how yes he’s alive but that also gave him extra trauma with trauma on top. And it’s partly her responsibility.)

I prefer shipping Makoto with Haru (although even then, there’s going to be things they need to talk through, but I can see communication being less of a barrier here).

Futaba I just... I’ll be honest and say that I can see her getting a crush on him at first? I can understand why she’d get flustered near the end of her confidant? The thing is, I think it’s more that he’s the first person since her mom who she’s been able to feel safe to hide behind, and... I’m not sure if that’s a good starting relationship for her. It feels like it’d be off-balance from the get-go, with Futaba potentially relying on Akira as her key item rather than working through her anxiety for herself. All of that on top of the game outside of the whole “need to make all options available for the protagonist” encouraging you to see her as Akira’s new adopted younger sister, and... I’m gonna say no.

I prefer to ship Futaba with Yusuke, as it’s my secondary OTP, although I do see her as bi and into girls too, I just haven’t seen another ship that takes me like that one.

Hifumi is an odd one for me, as she’s the one that I saw the youtube playthrough I watched go through, and...she was my introduction to Why I Don’t Think Akira’s Interested In Girls, unfortunately. The responses I saw, as well as the gameplay mechanics, were just a total distraction, and I’ll freely admit that it coloured my view of the pairing negatively. I can mostly just see them as friends, but... not romantically. Watching them in the game, it always felt stilted and as though Akira was going through the motions rather than actually doing anything from his heart, which. Yeah. Made it somewhat uncomfortable to watch. Also, she’s a rare one in that she’s his age, but she never really gets told the details of what he’s up to. He could die and she’d only hear it later. The PT may not even know that they should tell her. That’s just... cruel.

Haru... is complicated. I feel that Haru, through her storyline and confidant, sees Akira as her own personal knight in shining armour, saving her from her fiancé, and helping her with her issues with her business among other things. The problem is that Akira is... not necessarily how she sees him. There are people who tell them that they look like they’re “good friends” or more than that, but... the issue I have with this is - do we know Akira’s take on this? Is Akira actually happy with people assuming he’s in a relationship with someone? Just as much as the game encourages relationships with any girl, it also doesn’t explicitly say that Akira is interested until you have him say “yes, I want her.”

Even more than this, however, is that... if there were feelings for her, they would both have to deal with the fact that regardless of this, he would canonically still want to save and would find important the guy who killed her father. I think that’s. A pretty big thing. Whenever I see ship stuff for them, my first thought is how do you get around that? How do you have them communicate over it? and like... it’s important, okay. Only three weeks after she loses her father, and they already know who it was who killed him and Akira could have Akechi’s glove. Unless you don’t do his confidant, that’s going to be a thing. Just... awkward. I’m not being facetious here, I seriously would just plain want this to be talked about by the characters in-universe rather than them sitting on something that might blow up on them later. Even if Akira’s feelings for Akechi are purely platonic and go no further than “rival-friend.”

I prefer to ship Haru with Makoto, as said above.

Ah, Sumire. I love Sumire! I personally see her crush on Akira as cute. The thing is, her confidant falls into similar pitfalls as Futaba’s, in that both of them find in Akira someone that can help them figure out how to be a member of society again, and who they are after a period of not knowing, and both of them potentially run the risk of using him as a crutch rather than being his equal. Sumire’s feelings appear to develop naturally, and she even blushes a lot in her confidant and other situations because of them. Out of them all, I probably have the least issue with her, especially since she openly gives Akira a way to reject her without it feeling cruel - in that she just wants to air her feelings, whether he returns them or not. However, as I said, she runs the risk of having just regained her sense of self as Sumire only to start basing her choices not on Kasumi, but now on Akira. In many ways I feel that she absolutely needs more time before she starts any kind of serious relationship after the shit Maruki has put her through, because she needs to be able to stand on her own two feet, even in a relationship, rather than lean on others for who she’s meant to be.

I don’t really have a preferred Sumire ship.

I... okay.

So.

I’m going to freely say here at the end that my ship preferences, regardless of who is involved, are that the pairing maintains a healthy sense of equality and balance, as well as good, healthy levels of communication. There has to be signs of interest and/or attraction on both sides.

If you take that in, then you’ll see why I disagree with or dislike the idea of these ships, in the ways that they work in canon.

With several (Futaba, Sumire, Hifumi), there’s a power imbalance.

With yet more, there’s a potential communication breakdown (Hifumi, Makoto, Haru, potentially Futaba).

With some, there simply appears to be questionable levels of interest on one side or another (Ann, Hifumi, Haru).

And as said at he top, if some of these things could be righted or fixed somehow with better writing? Then at the very least I’d be more okay with the ship even if I still don’t personally go for it myself.

And... probably the biggest thing here, is that I absolutely see Akira as his own person. The moment you make the protagonist into their own person you can’t just have every single person be compatible with them! They’re going to be getting on better with some people than others, and getting on with different people in different ways. That’s not a bad thing. But it gets awkward when the writing of the game tries to make it seem like he could be with “anyone.”

#p5 stuff #oh god please do not come at me to argue on these points #anons are off #these are explanations rather than discussion/discourse points #I have preferences as I say at the end and it just happens that these ships don't tick them

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harcove · 3 years

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hiiiii! <33 i dont know if you are taking any requests but can you write a leon x reader in which the reader gets bitten? (i love drama lmaoo)

love uuuuuu<3333

Okay so I do have like a bunch of other stuff to finish in my inbox, but I tend to not do things in order of when I get them, I do them in the order of whatever I get done first (since I start them all whenever I get them and work on them over time) and whatever I'm getting the most inspiration for at the moment, and this baby right here: chefs kiss right now. I LOVE angst so much, it is my favourite thing to write.

Also I'm always open for requests! It's just a matter of when they get done, since like I said above, and also my final year of uni just started so oof. ALSO: Decided to do RE2 Leon oop... I hope that's okay!

I LOVE YOU TOO! Here you go bb,

Warnings: angst, blood/gore, injury, character death

Length: 2.8k (I- oop.)

Request: in the ask!

RE2 Leon Kennedy x Reader - Not you.

Your hand squeezed your thigh with as much strength as you could muster. It wasn't that it was hurting too much yet, you were still running off the shock and adrenaline from the events moments before that the pain hadn't yet settled. Dark blood oozed between your shaking fingers and coated your hand like you had just decided to dip your hand into a bucket of red paint. It was hardly sanitary considering the situation you were in, dirty and sweaty, having been going through the sewers earlier.

The undead man who had done the deed lay a few feet away with your survival knife Leon had given you stuck in his temple. You could see your own blood and flesh on his face, in his mouth. It was unnerving, and you usually wouldn't have noticed such a detail, except that it was your skin. Your blood. Your body.

You inched yourself towards the corpse and used the tip of your foot to make sure it wasn't still going to get back up. When it did nothing after a few pushes, you deemed it safe enough to take your knife back. With a few hard tugs, it dislodged itself with a squelch and you fell back against the wall behind you, exhausted.

The sudden sharp pain that run up your leg into your spine and made you arch your back for a moment as you stopped breathing forced you to pay attention to the wound on your leg. Hesitantly, you moved your shaking fingers away from the bite on your leg to take a peak.

There wasn't really a point to looking at it, you realized moments after you laid eyes on it. It wasn't going to fix anything, and there was nothing for you to assess. A bite was a bite, and you knew what it meant. Leon and you had seen what happened to Marvin. You yourself had seen a friend turn after being bit before you had gone to the RPD. So you knew.

The skin near the bite was incredibly hot to the touch, and even without touching it, you could feel the heat coming off your skin. Your jeans sported a hole where the bite was and you wondered if there was anything in your bag to cover it with. It was ugly to look at, and scary.

You let out of deep sigh as you closed your eyes. There wasn't much you could do but sit there. Leon was somewhere inside the NEST, and you were at the entrance. You weren't sure if you wanted Leon to find you dead or alive, but all you knew was that this was not something you nor him could fix.

It felt like hours had passed when Leon had shown up. But in reality, it had only been about half of an hour. Whatever was in the bite, whatever the virus really was, had done a number on you as you felt sweat bead at your forehead and slowly trickle down the side of your face. The furrow in your brow from the pain almost felt like it was permanent.

"Y/N!" He called out when he spotted you. He looked worse for wear, that was for sure. The way his shirt had been ripped on the sleeves, and the bandage you could see just beneath his shirt and RPD vest. He was caked in blood, sweat, and dirt too.

And yet he was a welcome sight for your tired eyes.

He quickly slid onto his knees and if you weren't in so much pain yourself, you would've winced at how harshly he landed on the hard floor, but it didn't seem like he was affected by it.

"I'm so glad I found you," he said breathily; he reminded you of a little puppy, and it made you want to squeeze him close to you, "what happened, what-"

Your hand squeezed your leg unconsciously and he looked down when you did so, his beautiful blue eyes resting on your bloodied hand and whatever you were covering up. His eyes looked back up to you almost hesitantly, asking to look. When a half-smile was your only response, he looked back down and focused on your leg.

His hands gently pried your fingers off your leg and he carefully let your hand go on your lap, giving them a squeeze.

"I'm..." he seemed at a loss for words, you would've been too, "I have to... Cut this away to see it better, okay? It's..."

Carefully he used his own survival knife to cut away at the pieces of your jeans, which were dyed deep red around the wound, so he could see it better. Your hand came up to his shoulder as he did so, peeling the bloody fabric away from it as much as he could without hurting you, and you squeezed his shoulder so tightly, fighting the urge to scream in pain. But he didn't seem to notice, or care, about the harsh grip you had on his shoulder.

"Oh. God..." it was said softly, almost as if he had no air left inside him to breathe, let alone speak.

"It's really ugly, I know," you tried to make the situation less dire, but it didn't seem to work, because Leon just looked at you with his big eyes, full of so many negative emotions.

"It's not..." even Leon didn't know what he was doing to say as he trailed off. He began searching through his pockets till he came up with a bottle of antiseptic that looked half empty.

"It's gonna be okay," he finally spoke again as he started to open the bottle, but your hand reached up and seized his own holding the open bottle above your leg.

"Don't use that," you pushed it closer to him and further from your leg, "you can't afford to waste that."

"I'm not wasting it."

You hadn't heard him sound so sure of his words, so... Angry. You hadn't known the boy long, but that was the first time you'd seen him react that way to anything. It made your push your lips together in a thin line, but you kept your hand on him, stopping him from using the antiseptic.

"I'm pretty sure we both know how this ends," you prompted slowly, "I don't think an antiseptic is going to fix it."

"The vaccine is here somewhere, it has to be," he stated firmly, "we just need to find it. It's going to be okay."

It wasn't that you didn't trust him, or that you didn't believe him. But how long was it going to take to find a vaccine? And how did you truly know you were going to find one? You didn't even know if it would work.

You didn't have much say when Leon moved to put your arm over his shoulder, and looked at you, counting to three before he helped you off the ground.

It worked initially: you had managed to stand up with the help of the rookie cop beside you, who kicked the zombie that had done the deed further from you two when you had gotten up. But it didn't last long, as pain shot through your leg and seemed to spread through your entire body. You could barely keep yourself upright even with his help, your body felt too weak to even function.

"Leon, I can't," you cried, falling back against the wall, "I can't."

"Damnit," Leon cursed under his breath, looking around him urgently before he left you against the wall to open a door across from the two of you.

He was missing for less than a minute when he came back out from the room and quickly came back to you. One of his arms reached under your legs while the other went to your back.

"I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

Ever the gentleman, even when you were definitely dying.

"My hero," you smiled softly but it came out as more of a grimace as he lifted you up like you weighed nothing.

You supposed training to be a police officer meant he wouldn't have trouble carrying fully grown human beings.

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp. There was a bed right across from the door, and a desk close to the door. Someone must've used this room as not just a study but a place to sleep. Like a bedroom.

Leon gently placed you on the bed in the room, being careful on how he placed you, and never taking his focus away from your leg.

"Okay," he breathed out pulling back, "I'm going to go find the vaccine. And then we're going to get out of here. Together."

It was a wonderful thought. It was the dream, right? For everything to be okay, for you to be fine, and for the two of you to get out of Raccoon city and away from this mess. Together.

And yet you knew it wasn't going to happen, you knew you weren't getting out of there. You knew you were dead. And it was a scary thought to have to face alone because you wanted so badly to live. To live with him.

He would've been out that door had you not reached your hand out and grabbed his hand as best you could, squeezing it as hard as you could.

"Don't," your voice cracked as you swallowed hard, the ache in your chest only growing when his pained expression met yours, "don't leave me. Leon..."

"But I need to..."

It was blatantly obvious to not only yourself but also to him that there wasn't anything he could do. Not anything he could do in time for you. He didn't even know what he'd be looking for exactly, but he'd go find it if he could. He'd do anything to help you. To save you, and keep you near, but there wasn't anything he could do. It was a cold hard truth, and one he so desperately wanted to avoid.

But he couldn't.

Not when he looked at you, and really looked. Not just second glances over your form and your leg that lasted seconds as his blue eyes frantically moved like they were trying to find something they couldn't. No, when he really stopped and stared at you, he couldn't avoid it.

Your skin was ashen and you were covered in a thin layer of sweat. Your eyes somehow looked like they had sunken in a bit, and looked dull compared to what they usually looked like. The way you breathed was alarming, it was shallow and sounded tiring, and then some moments it would speed up only to slow down moments later. You were in pain, and you were hardly there anymore.

"Y/N..." Leon's voice cracked, and you never thought you were going to see him cry. He held your hand back tightly and noted your fingertips felt cooler, "This isn't happening. Not to you."

"I should've paid more attention..." you said softly, "I don't... I don't want to die."

"I should've been here, I should've..." he exhaled through his nose, "damnit!"

"I'm not letting you blame yourself," you sternly interrupted him and squeezed his hand as best as you could, "not now. Not ever. None of this is your fault..."

Leon said nothing as he took to the ground beside the bed, kneeling right beside you. His face was close to your own as he leaned forward, his hand still holding your own tightly, which he brought up to your chest where your intertwined hands sat.

"Just..." you knew what you wanted to say but you didn't want to make the hurt worse, "just... promise you won't forget about me? And promise... Promise you're going to get out of here. Alive."

"I could never forget you," he said hurriedly as if he was offended you would have even thought he could forget you, "even if I wanted to, I could never..."

There was something there, between the two of you, that was trying to lay itself bare, but something was stopping it. There was something unsaid, simple words that were hard to say and had so much meaning, so much weight. But neither of you could say it.

If you did, not only would it be the first time, but also, the last time.

With your remaining strength you slipped a ring off your finger; it was an old thing, something that you had for a while and you didn't even remember why you got it or where you got it, but you always wore it just because. It had no sentimental meaning, but now it did as you pushed it into his hands. The look of confusion on his pained face made you smile slightly.

"So you always have a piece of me," you said, "and if you ever try to pawn that off I will come back and find you, Kennedy..."

His eyes trained themselves of the silver ring in his hands, it was so plain, just a band. But it was yours. It was you. It was all he could keep of you, he realized because this wasn't going to end with your life. Pocketing the ring, he took your hand again.

"I might just sell it then if you show up," he tried to make you smile, which it worked, but he also felt the need to reassure you, "I won't get rid of it. Ever."

"Good to know," you let go of his hand again and pulled out the gun in the holster that he had found for you in the station, inside was a round of ammo that you wouldn't need. Pulling out the ammo, save for one of the bullets, you gave him the rounds.

"What? What are you-"

"I'm not... Going to need this," you said, slightly out of breath from the pain you were in, "and I know they fit Matilda. But I'm keeping the gun, and one of the bullets."

It seemed to dawn on him what you meant by your final sentence and he frantically began to protest.

"Hey, wait, no," he shook his head, "no. I can... You don't have to... Let me."

It was the idea that you would have to shoot yourself that made him uncomfortable. The idea that you would need to take your own life upset him. But if you didn't want to turn into one of them, he would do it for you. He would... He...

"We both know you can't," you justified, "and I don't want you to. I could never ask you to. So, you go. You leave Leon, and you find that virus. You get out of here, and you live. You don't do anything stupid or reckless, and you make these bastards pay."

You were adamant, and you left absolutely no room for argument. Even if he wanted to argue, he couldn't. And he wanted to argue. But denial would get him killed, and you wanted him to live. And some part of him wanted to live for you.

"Alright," his voice didn't waver this time as he spoke, "Alright."

He placed his head against yours for a moment when he stood up and squeezed your hand a little tighter in his own when he grabbed it again. Softly, you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and ushered him to leave. It felt like he was walking on hot coals the whole time as he walked out the door, he regretted it when he looked back at you at the door, like he was waiting for you to get up and go with him. It just made closing the door behind him a lot harder.

He hadn't really been keeping watch of the time since he arrived in the RPD. He didn't really realize how fast or how slow time was going. But at that moment, outside that door, he really felt the way time flowed. It was impossibly slow, agonizingly so, and it was deadly quiet. Something that happened in only moments felt like it had taken an eternity.

He was used to the sound of a gun by now. It didn't make him flinch anymore. But this time it did. It made his stomach clench and his jaw tighten, his body stiffens. He hated how it sounded more than he ever had before.

The piece of metal in his pocket weighed heavy as he ghosted his hand over it.

Leon was going to find who did this. He was going to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. But most of all, he was going to make them pay.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #resident evil imagine #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #re2 #re2 remake #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #re2 leon #re #mine #amy writes #delicious ANGST #now i gotta sleep or try to cause i have class at 8 and its 2 am aha #i hope this is okay oof sorry #AND I WILL DO THE OTHER STUFF I ALREADY STARTED THEM I JUST FINISHED THIS ONE FIRST OOF

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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