#cary agos x reader

[shaynawrites23]

33. The feel of fingers trailing over a bare shoulder blade

Cary Agos x reader

Warning: suggestive content, implied smut

Cary hovered above you, pressing feathery kisses to your face. Your hands trailed up and down his bare back before coming to rest at the back of his neck, pulling his lips to yours.

God, you loved kissing him. It took your breath away every single time and this one was no different. His kisses were so soft and loving; you wanted to lose yourself in him.

He pulled away when his phone rang and you whined, clutching onto him, but he only chuckled, pecking your lips.

"I have to take it," he murmured, another sweet kiss following.

"Do you?"

"Yeah, but I'll kiss you some more afterwards," he grinned, pressing the phone to his ear. "Cary Agos."

You couldn't hear the name or voice of whoever called him, but you assumed it was work. Curse you for loving a lawyer.

A devious plan formed in your mind, one that would definitely speed up his call. Under normal circumstances you'd leave him alone, but hey, it was his off day and you were feeling needy. He did do some work on his off days, but if he was going to be working the whole time, he might as well be at his office.

Silently crawling over to where he sat on the edge of the bed, your hands traced slow, delicate patterns over his back, his warm skin contrasting with your cold fingers. Other than flinching away from your first touch, Cary let you continue, and so you moved to the next phase of your plan.

You let your fingers move higher, fingertips trailing over his shoulder blades as you gently pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

Cary's breath hitched and you knew you had his attention. Now, he did try and swat you away, but you only moved out of his reach to continue kissing and caressing him; your fingers traced intricate pictures on his skin and you smiled into his neck when you felt him shudder.

Shifting slightly behind him, you repositioned yourself to be more comfortable, letting a soft whimper escape your lips right next to his ear. God, the sooner he could touch you, the better. You didn't even have a pillow to grind on, and you were aching for attention.

Another whimper, and your lips brushed over the spot on the underside of his jaw.

"I'm gonna call you back in a couple hours." He wasted no time in hanging up after that, tossing the phone aside and nestling his hips between yours again as he covered your body with his own. Despite the tension in his body, you knew he wasn't mad; his beautiful brown eyes gazed down at you with the same love as several minutes ago.

"I'm gonna get you back for that," he murmured, before his mouth found yours again in a passionate kiss.

"Can't wait," you mumbled against his lips.

You didn't have to.

[moonlight-alexia]

new perspective | a.p.

alexia putellas x reader | 0.9k | 'when i came here, all i could think about was the day i’d get to leave - but lately, i’ve been avoiding thinking about it,'

❆♡────୨ holiday season blurb event ৎ────♡❆

The waves crashed against the shore. Knees pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around them, you dug your feet into the sand while staring out at the ocean. The sun was glowing over the water as it was setting along the horizon. You sighed out. The end of the season was fast approaching and there was a lot on your mind.

You’d come to Barcelona expecting at the end of the year you’d move on. You had expected Barcelona to just be the club you had gone to because you had no other choice. To others Barcelona was a dream club but at the beginning it wasn’t like that to you. You never had that same draw to this club. Your previous club was your home. It was where you grew up, your loyalty had been with that club since you were nine years old.

There was never a thought in your head during that time that you would be forced out, your loyalty to the club meaning nothing in the end. To you, that was your forever club so you’d never dreamed about playing for any other club. You only signed with Barcelona for a year in the hopes that your previous club may come back to you, realising you were important to them and offer you a contract. Which they did. But things are different now.

‘I knew I’d find you here,’ in a room full of loud voices, her’s would be the only one you’d ever be able to hear. The girl who’s made things more difficult for you. Alexia sat next to you on the sand, her shoulder touching yours. 

‘Ale, how did you find me?’ Your voice was barely a whisper but it was enough for Alexia to hear you.

‘I know you, cari,’ Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest whenever Alexia was close to you, ‘Amor, are you okay?’ You knew that Alexia knew this was the place you’d come to whenever you needed a break from everything. It wasn’t the first time she’d found you here. It took Alexia finding you here a few times before you told her why you came to this place. Even if she had an idea of your reasoning she still appreciated you actually telling her.

‘When I came here, all I could think about was the day I’d get to leave,’ You breathed out, talking out into the night, out into the ocean as if the waves could carry away your words, as if they could carry away all your worries and doubts, let you be free from it all, ‘But lately, I’ve been avoiding thinking about it,’

The end of the season was approaching. Your previous club had come to you wanting you back. At the beginning of the season you were sure if you were in this situation that you would go back. But everything was different. It had only been a season but you felt like Barcelona was your home. Like it was the missing piece you never knew you needed.

‘You don’t have to leave,’ You’d told Alexia everything a few weeks ago, from how you felt when you first joined Barcelona to now, ‘I don’t want you to go,’ Alexia whispered, you almost didn’t catch it. The weight of her words were heavy.

It wasn’t unknown that you and Alexia had gotten quite close during the season. You complimented each other and clicked instantly. The two of you had gone from doing extra drills together after training, which was an excuse to spend more time and get to know each other more, that led into your dates that you never actually labelled as dates.

Though you both haven't addressed your feelings for each other, the two of you had fallen into your own little routine as the season went on, ‘I came here so sure that I wouldn’t be here longer than this year. I was so sure that if they wanted me back I would go without hesitation,’ You’d unconsciously leaned in closer to Alexia, leaning back on your hands to match how she was sitting, the tips of your fingers grazing hers, ‘But I am hesitating. I don’t want to go back,’ 

‘Then don’t go. Stay here with me amor. You’re important here,’ Alexia’s words had a double meaning. You had become important to Barcelona but you had also become important to Alexia, ‘Cari, por favor,’

You turned your head, your face now inches from hers. A small smile when your eyes caught Alexia’s, your hand now holding hers fully. Being here, so close, you knew there was only one choice you could make. You knew it was going to be the right one. When you came to Barcelona you hadn’t expected Alexia to steal a piece of your heart. But she did and if you left you knew you would have an Alexia shaped hole in your heart forever.

‘Ale, I don’t think I could leave you. I don’t want to,’ Words between you both were whispered, only meant for each other to hear. You placed your free hand gently on her cheek, Alexia instantly leaning into your touch. Her arm wrapped around you, pulling you into her, holding you as close as she could possibly have you. Connecting your lips, you kissed Alexia softly, everything you couldn’t put into words you expressed through the kiss. 

Reluctantly pulling away, you leaned your forehead against Alexia’s, staying as close as you could to each other, ‘Mi amor, you are my home now. I’m not going anywhere, prometo,’

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Girl

Chapter 1

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Mature. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: What happens when you discover your husband has been cheating on you? You call his best friend to help comfort you. Warnings: Dieter's POV, infidelity, heartbreak, some allusions to smutty thoughts but nothing extreme, pining, fluff, comfort, drug and alcohol mentions, Dieter's down bad for his best friend's wife. Words: 2,900

A/N: This was written for @punkshort's anniversary AU challenge. I received husband's best friend Dieter Bravo. I've been in the Dieter den lately, so of course I had a lot of fun writing this soft, pining side of him. The film featured in this fic, The Philadelphia Story, is one of my favorite movies ever, and I wanted to use it in this. Mike, Dex, and Tracy are all characters in the movie. FYI… the movie is free on Tubi. :)

Next Chapter Golden Girl Masterlist Masterlist

___

He can't do this. He absolutely cannot do this. 

“Dieter, I– can you just come over? I don’t want to be alone.” 

He has to do this. He absolutely has to do this.

Your voice is so defeated, bereft, empty. It pains him to even think of the despair you feel inside.

How fucking dare he. Fucking Warren. He wonders why he feels like he owes him his friendship, his time, his loyalty. Fuck that. Breaking your heart, leaving your bright light dim after taking everything from you. He’s sat idly by for years numbing the pain of watching his closest friend pilfer you, the girl of his dreams. 

Eight years of marriage gone in a blink of an eye just so Warren can fuck and supposedly fall in love with his brand new leggy blonde coworker. Warren’s always been good at taking what he wants. Hell, he took you away from him. Yeah, Dieter may have an Oscar… but he doesn’t have the girl. 

He drives to your house, the same home you used to share with your husband. He wishes he could trade in his mega mansion and live with you in the two story colonial made warm and inviting only under your touch. Warren liked to remind you he paid for it all, but what use is money when there’s no heart?

He locks his car and inhales a deep breath before taking the walkway to the side entrance, the one only close friends use. The fresh fragrance of the peonies that you planted all over the yard makes his heart ache even more for you as he opens the door. 

The house is quiet, save for the sound of your sniffles, a singular lamp casts the living room in a solemn umber tone. 

“Sweets?” He can’t help it, he’s called you that since the first night he met you in that Venice dive bar all those years ago. He was infatuated with you from the first time he saw you, smiling and laughing with your friends, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He introduced himself, you shouted your name back, grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. He kissed you when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. God, your lips tasted like sugar from those damn overly sweet drinks. 

Your head surfaces from the couch, the sight of you wounds him… red rimmed eyes, tear streaked face, and puffy lips. You look like hell and yet you’re more beautiful than any gorgeous actress he’s acted alongside. 

He joins you on the couch, gathering your blanket covered form in his arms trying to calm your shaking sobs with a kiss against the top of your head. He rocks you like a baby, shushing you and holding you tight. His big brown eyes blink back tears, tamping down the guilt he feels over how much he loves holding you. 

He’s never been good at these situations, he’s a great actor and can cry on command, but when it comes to consoling and emotions, he’s always easily overwhelmed. His mind races, too terrified to do wrong by you; all he can think of is your favorite movie. He grabs the remote, navigating the menu to play the film. He might forget where he puts his keys or what he has for breakfast but he always remembers everything about you. Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant battle for Katherine Hepburn’s heart. Ouch. He wishes he would have fought harder for you all those years ago.

You cuddle into his arms closer, sniffling out a soft “thank you” when the movie begins.

Tracy breaks Dex’s golf club. He hopes you’ll do the same to Warren’s once you summon the strength. 

Dieter also loves this movie, the both of you first connected over your shared love of classic cinema. You wanted to act, Warren put an end to that… he didn’t want to ‘share you’ with the world. He’s so tired of Warren’s bullshit, he’s so fucking pissed off, all of those wasted years you could have been happy alone… or with him. 

He’s so angry he could kill Warren. He reminds himself now’s not the time for vexation, settling deeper against the soft cushions, cradling and softly assuring he’s here for you. Dex walks back into Tracy’s life on the screen; he prays Warren won’t be able to do the same. He calms his anger at Warren by pretending he’s here watching a movie with his favorite girl, ignoring the reality that he’s holding your shattered heart and body, picking up the mess that his so-called “good guy” best friend made. He’ll take Warren’s mess any day.

Your bleary eyes focus on the black and white film playing on the TV. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and moves to pull his hand away. A tiny “no, stay” whimpers out of your mouth, his fingers remain. He doesn’t stop gently rubbing your soft skin through the whole movie. 

Mike professes his feelings to Tracy. “No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy. Full of life and warmth and delight. What goes on? You've got tears in your eyes.”

He feels the quote in his bones, in his heart, in every single drug and drink he’s taken trying to get you out of his head. You’re golden, Warren has left you rusted. 

It’s always been you. His marriage to Anika, he stood at the altar dreaming of you walking through that Las Vegas chapel doorway. The dissolution of those vows arriving soon after, he signed his name on the divorce papers while giddily anticipating your arrival to soothe him. His fuckboy ways he’s now so famous for, he always thinks about touching your body and hearing your moans whenever he enters whatever pretty person opens their legs for him. 

The credits roll. You sit up and stretch while he mourns the loss of your body against his.

“Do you need anything?” He asks, adjusting the blanket on your shoulders. 

“No,” you croak out, “I– thank you for coming over. I think this is it Dee, I can’t do this again. What did I do wrong?” Your head buries into your hands, a new batch of tears begin falling.

“No, no, no, baby, no,” he grabs your arms, wrapping his hands over yours and squeezing. “You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. Warren– he’s,” he sighs, “I don’t even recognize the friend I once knew.” 

Your solemn nod and downcast eyes almost causes his heart to break and fall on the ground next to yours. 

“Sweets, he’s a fucking idiot,” he tries to stop his words from coming out, but he loses the fight. Blame it on too many years of standing to the side and watching Warren slowly take away everything you loved brick by brick. “You a–you are brilliant, funny, beautiful, caring, y-you deserve the world.”

“You just have to say that…” your voice is so small, so infantile. 

“I don’t,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from divulging more. “Trust me Sweets, I–I don’t.”

He dreams of the moment he’ll be able to tell you how he feels, how he’s always felt, how hard it’s been to watch his closest friend snuff out the light of the girl of his dreams, how he’ll never forgive himself for standing idly by while escaping in a haze of drugs and alcohol. Easy vices he found that could never mend his envious heart. 

He changes the subject, distracts you, and mostly himself, from letting his true feelings out. “Did you want to watch another movie?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I really want a bath. I feel so dry, my eyes are burning.”

He tucks down the thoughts of you in a bathtub, on normal days he’d send himself down a spiral thinking of you naked, rubbing soap across your body, humming a contented sigh and stretching out your relaxed limbs. 

“I’ll go get it ready for you,” he says, rising off the couch and heading towards the stairs.

“C-could you do it in the guest room? I-I don’t want to be in… our room alone,” your voice cracks with embarrassment.  

He turns back to you, his head falls at your request and the look of shame across your face. He strides over and kneels in front of you, gathering your hands in his and holding them tight. “Whatever you need Sweets,” he stares into your eyes, “whatever you need.”

A small smile lifts the side of your mouth, his heart thumps against his chest at the realization he made you happy. “Thank you Dee, you’re the best.”

He nods before standing up and heading for the guest room upstairs. 

Each step he takes the more his sense of duty to help and improve your terrible day blooms inside of him. He walks into the guest room, the same room he stays in when he parties too much, usually because alcohol helps him numb the want for you he holds inside. He flicks the bathroom light on, admiring everything you designed, this house is your house, he’s going to fight like hell to make sure you keep it. 

He turns the tap on making sure the water is hot enough for you before placing a towel on the stool next to the tub. He wonders where you always get the fluffiest towels from, just another layer of your softness and care for the things around you. A bottle of bath oil lays on the tub edge, he picks it up and smells the sweet scent of almond and honey before pouring a bit into the warm water. 

He turns around when he hears you walk into the bathroom. A shy smile is on your face, you’re still so beautiful even when you look utterly devastated. 

“I think it’s warm enough for you,” he says, swishing his hand in the bathwater. “Do you want the jets?”

“I’ll take care of it Dee, thanks,” you begin unbuttoning your pajama top, revealing your light pink bra. You’re so comfortable in front of him, if only you knew the way he thinks about you. Dieter swallows, and with the heaviest most unreluctant body moves around you to the doorway. He’d do anything to watch this, but not tonight. You’re too vulnerable, he can’t take advantage of his dream. 

“Just let me know if you need anything,” he offers before shutting the door, hating that he knows it’s best to be a better man.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, a guilty smirk develops when he realizes it’s the same bed he’d touch himself on whenever he’d overhear your moans as Warren took the body Dieter always craved. He plays with the gold ring in his ear, he wonders if Warren’s still wearing his wedding ring.

His head perks when he hears the sound of your feet dipping into the tub, your body settling into the water, and the sigh you let out as you relax into the warm bath. He fights the lust coursing through his body, you’re naked and only ten feet away from him. 

Distract, distract, distract, he thinks to himself reaching for the remote and turning the TV on to a rerun of South Park; he turns the volume down, he just can’t fathom drowning out the sounds of your bath, he likes hearing the whoosh of water as you move. 

“Dee,” you shout from the bathroom, “I–can you get me my robe from my room? It’s hanging up behind the bathroom door.” 

“Of course,” he steadfastly gets up, “I’ll be right back.” 

The last time he was in your room was when you and Warren purchased the house, he still remembers the jealousy he felt that day; watching Warren kiss his pretty wife in his brand new picturesque house complete with the shiny white picket fence. Norman fucking Rockwell could never paint a more perfect picture of suburban paradise. 

He looks at the bed with the pretty floral quilt laid atop it… you’re probably so warm and soft to sleep next to. There’s a frame on your bedside table holding a photo of you and Warren laughing on some grand vacation he probably took you on to get back in your good graces. He wonders what it would be like to feel your head against his chest, to have you so close he could feel your laughter vibrate against him. You have all sorts of lotions and tchotchkes on your table, quite a contrast from the clean table top on Warren’s side. He can almost hear his friend’s voice complaining about all of your clutter. 

He finds your robe and brings the soft downy fabric to his nose inhaling the scent of you, this must be what an angel smells like. So sweet.

He takes one last glance at your bed and imagines seeing you asleep under the covers, leaving you in your peaceful slumber every morning and going downstairs to make you coffee. He gets lost in his fantasy while walking back to the guest room, ignoring the photos of you and Warren that hang on the walls.

He taps against the bathroom door and holds out your robe, the thought crosses his mind yet again that you’re behind the ornate white piece of wood fully naked. You crack open the door, peeking your head out, your hair is wet, he tries to shush his brain thinking about how wet the rest of your body must be. You look better, more fresh faced; a sense of pride settles inside of him that he’s helped you tonight.

“Thank you Dee,” you smile and grab the robe before closing the door. 

He settles on the bed, stretching out on the mattress and resting his back against the headboard. Nervousness rears its head for what comes next. He knows he’s going to see you soon, your relaxed body will be wrapped in your soft robe… he has to be good and resist any sort of desire. He hasn’t been good at saying no to temptation, but you’re so much more special than a joint, a drink, or a pill. 

The bathroom door opens, there you are, freshly bathed and beautiful, your legs peek out from under the fleece fabric.

He swallows when you climb on the bed and sit next to him. Your legs are smooth and shiny from your bath, his mouth waters at the sight.

“He hated cartoons,” you whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

“I like cartoons,” you say, picking at a loose piece of fleece on your robe.

“I know. Cartoons are the best,” he doesn’t know how else to respond.

Your heart might be fractured right now, but the comfortable silence that’s shared between the two of you makes his heart race as the four kids from South Park get caught in hi-jinks. You chuckle as Butters gets adopted by Paris Hilton. He loves your laugh, hearing it tonight means even more to him. 

You scoot closer to him, he tries to calm his rapid heartbeat and breathing when you place your head on his chest. You smell of that saccharine bath oil he poured, he tamps down the thoughts of how it’d taste on your skin. 

“Dieter,” your head angles up to look at him, “c-can you sleep here with me?”

“Of course baby,” stop calling her baby, “a-anything you need.” 

“I’m just… I-I’m so tired and I don’t want to–”

“You don’t have to say a thing,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer. 

You yawn a “thank you,” as your eyes flutter shut against his chest. 

Fucking Warren, you’re a goddamn idiot rushes through his head. He would give everything up to feel this every night. The Oscar, the mansion, the designer clothes, the luxury cars, gone in a blink of an eye if he could feel this sensation over and over again. To protect you, to console you, to love you… He lays wide awake next to you, his arm stays wrapped around your beautiful sleeping form all night. 

He can’t imagine what the next few days, weeks, and months will be like for you, all he can do right now is hold you in this guest bedroom bed and vow to stand by your side once you wake. He wishes he would have intervened earlier, saved you from ever feeling this way, of ever thinking you weren’t worth the world. 

Soft snores escape your slightly ajar mouth, you look so peaceful and beautiful. He’s dreamt of being able to wake up to this sight every morning ever since that first night in the bar, when he should have been the one to take you home… not Warren. 

Next Chapter

[absurdthirst]

The Thanksgiving Departure {Dieter Bravo x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.7k

Warnings: Vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, family issues, heartbreak, alcohol, Dieter being a dick, revelations of infidelity, dishonesty, pregnancy, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of breeding kinks, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex

Comments: Married to Dieter Bravo, Thanksgiving turns into the worst day of the year when he abandons you to go to Hollywood for his big break. Never divorcing you and deciding to stroll back into your life on Thanksgiving again years later

Happy Thanksgiving!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dieter Bravo MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Dieter sighs as he stares at his script. Another community theater project that he took when he got rejected from his latest audition for Law & Order. He rubs his forehead as the words blur together and he doesn't know how much longer he can do this. He wants to be successful. He wants to be famous...and rich. He can't do that in the middle of fucking nowhere. His hometown is picture perfect. Pumpkin patches in the fall, Christmas parade during December, flower show during spring. Town festivals and even a fucking gazebo in the town square. It's like a movie set but it's not the movie set he wants to be on. His entire life he's dreamed of Hollywood. His dad, before he died when Dieter was ten, showed him the greats. John Wayne. Cary Grant, Marlon Brando. He wants to be like them. A leading man. But he can't do that without going to L.A. "Hey baby." You coo as you walk into the kitchen, frowning when you see his script, "you want me to run lines?" You offer, leaning over to grab the papers, and he growls, shoving the papers across the table. 

"No. No. I don't want to run fucking lines." His tone makes your eyebrows raise and you back away until he reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "I'm sorry. Shit. I- I didn't get the part. The Law & Order part." He admits, feeling sorry for himself.

“Oh baby.” You soften slightly, knowing how much Dieter hates rejection. He wants so badly to be famous and you support him, but it’s honestly not realistic for where you live. Still, you encourage him to pursue his dreams. “They are missing out.” You step closer and wrap your arms around him to give him a hug from behind. “You are the best actor and would have made the show the highest rated episode of the season.”

Dieter huffs, shaking his head, "I love you, but don't flatter me now. I just - I want to give you the damn world and I can't do that stuck here. I know your mom is sick but baby, I want to go to L.A. I can do this. I know I can. I know I can make it." He whines, shaking his head and he turns his head to press his head against yours.

You sigh softly, knowing this is a conversation that has been going on for months. “I can’t- baby- mom needs us here right now.” You’ve been taking care of your mom for months, you and Dieter moving in and providing in-home care so she didn’t have to go into a care home. “When she’s better, we can look at moving out there.” You promise again. One thing that you love about Dieter is his persistence, but he’s also impatient. He doesn’t really want to wait, every day could possibly be his big break in his mind. “Besides, you don’t want to plan a move around the holidays.” You remind him. “Thanksgiving is in two days.”

Dieter doesn't respond, knowing that his dream is slipping away. Your mom doesn't seem to be getting better and you are young but everyone is asking when you're going to have kids. You just got married six months ago. He's not ready to have kids and all it takes is one slip up on your birth control and he's stuck in this two bit town. He pats your hand, "yeah. Yeah, of course. Let's focus on the holidays." He says but his tone doesn't match the smile he offers you.

You know he’s disappointed that you aren’t immediately jumping to pack your bags, but he will have to understand. “I’m baking your favorite pie.” You hum teasingly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Right after mom’s appointment tomorrow and your mother has already said that she’s bringing the turkey.”

Dieter eyes the script and he wonders about the tape he sent off last week for the role in a new TV show about a detective. He took a chance and auditioned for the lead. It’s a pilot, but could be picked up and he doubts he will get the part. He taps his fingers against the table and turns his head to press his lips to yours. He loves you, he really does, but he feels trapped. “Come here.” He demands, wrapping his arm around you and dragging you into his lap. “Fucking love your pie.” He smiles and presses his lips to yours.

Melting into Dieter easily, you kiss him back, straddling him. Your mother is upstairs resting after a particularly rough day and she will be asleep for a few hours. “I love you.” You coo, grinding down on him with a smirk when he groans. “You want to have sex?” Dieter finds it sexy when you just bluntly ask, so you have taken to doing just that.

Dieter groans, sliding his hand down to squeeze your ass, “yes. Fuck yes.” He smacks your ass and kisses your jaw. “Here or you wanna go to our room?” He asks against our skin, wanting you to decide but he’s already hardening beneath you.

“Here.” Spontaneity has been a little lacking lately with your mother requiring a lot of your time and you know that Dieter will enjoy it. “You can think about it when we are eating dinner here with the family.” You tease.

“You’re too fucking good to me. Think about your pussy while eating your pie.” He teases as he slides his hand under your shirt, “get your damn jeans off.” He demands as he pulls your shirt over your head.

You bite your lip as you stand up, pushing away from him so you can get undressed. “Strip down baby.” You beg, wanting to see him. Dieter has an amazing body, lean and naturally athletic, every time you see him you get wet.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor, and he stands up to strip his jeans. He never wears underwear so he kicks them aside and sits back down to watch you strip while he wraps his fingers around his cock, pumping himself. “You’re so sexy.” He murmurs, dark eyes watching you with lust. You’re still in your honeymoon stage after six months of marriage and Dieter is always ready to fuck his wife.

“Me?” You snort and shoot him a playful wink. “I’m the one with a hot, actor husband.” You remind him, reaching up and cupping your tits. “You want to fuck me? Or you want me to ride that pretty cock of yours?”

He scoffs at your comment about him being an actor. He wishes. He’s a community theater actor at best. He reaches for you to drag you into his lap, “come here and ride my cock, my beautiful wife.” He demands, groaning when you straddle him and he bends down to take your nipple into his mouth after he cups your tit.

Passion is something Dieter has in spades. He never fails to make you fall deeper in love with him. It’s not like you haven’t been together since you were almost too young for love, but it just keeps growing. “Dee.” You moan, fingers sinking into his short hair. “You should grow your hair out so I can pull it.”

"Can't." He murmurs against your sternum, his face buried between your tits. "I need it short for the show." He presses a kiss to your skin before he lathes his attention on your other breast. His free hand squeezes your ass, "fuck, you're so gorgeous. Wanna eat you out later." He declares after he bites down on your nipple.

You hum, knowing that he can’t grow it out right now, but you would love it. “God, Dee.” You whimper happily, letting him do what he wants while you grind down on his hard cock and roll your hips. You are wet and getting wetter, but he will still stretch you out.

He doesn't want to hurt you if you aren't wet enough so he slides his hand down to cup your cunt, his fingers easily finding your clit to rub slow circles on it.

You moan his name again, loving how he is patient with you. It doesn’t hurt that he’s got a big cock and he knows it. He’s proud of that fact, even if neither one of you has slept with too many people. “God baby, you touch me so perfectly.” You praise breathlessly. “My husband.”

He kisses up your chest until he's pressing his lips to yours while he continues to rub your bundle of nerves. "My sexy, beautiful, smart as fuck wife." He murmurs against your chin and he is throbbing with need for you. "You ready for me?" He asks, his tone a little whiny as he aches for you.

“Yessss.” You hiss, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock. “I want to ride you, baby.” You pant, lifting your hips as he pulls his hand away and you position him at your entrance.

Dieter hisses as you start to sink down onto him. You’re so fucking perfect and he has always thought it. Ever since you were kids. You’ve always been the most beautiful woman in the room. His hands are everywhere, sliding along your body until he squeezes your ass, letting you adjust while you take him inside your tight cunt.

Dieter always feels amazing, you moan his name as you squeeze him with your muscles. “Fuck I love you.” You pant, kissing along his neck when he turns his head. “You’re my forever baby.”

He groans, helping you rock on top of him, “fucking love you too. So much.” He murmurs, squeezing your ass and his hands slide up your back to pull you even closer as you move on top of him. You’re on your tiptoes as you lift up and slowly sink back down onto his cock. No one has ever made him feel like this, like he is home, but it’s still in the back of his mind to want more from his career.

You don’t know what is rolling through Dieter’s mind as you ride him. All you know is that he feels incredible and you love the way he moans. The way he kisses you. He’s always been a passionate person but he truly makes you feel cherished when he’s touching you, praising you. “I love you. I love how you feel inside me.” You moan, grinding down on him.

Your moan makes him twitch inside you and he watches you as you ride him, taking what you want from him. “Love you too, baby. Tell me - tell me how much you love me.” He whines slightly, needing reassurance from you. He can be insecure and considering his lack of money due to his chosen profession, he feels like he can’t provide for you like he should.

You can tell that he is needy right now and you press your lips to his briefly before you caress his cheek. "To the moon and back." You promise him. "The only one I will ever be married to."

Your words have his heart racing and his stomach clenching when you look into his eyes and you stare at him like he’s the only person in the world, in your world. He loves it and he surges forward to reclaim your lips, needing to be as close as possible to you at this moment.

You love when Dieter is like this, needy and greedy for you. Holding you tight and kissing you like you are the only woman in the world. Even if he dreams big, what you have is real, it’s not an act. You kiss him back just as eagerly, pouring your feelings for him into that simple act while you bounce on his cock.

You take him so well and he groans into your mouth, his tongue sloppily sliding against yours. His hands are everywhere, greedy for you, and he knows you’ll be by his side no matter what. He loves that about you. He tries to get as much of you as possible and it’s so not enough.

Both of you dissolve into moans and grunts of pleasure, the pace picking up to where your tits are bouncing and you feel like Dieter is in your guts. Breathlessly panting praise for him and how his cock feels into his mouth as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to cumming.

He needs to feel you fall apart for him so he slides his hand between you, finding your clit to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves and he groans when you fall apart for him within a few swipes of his fingers. You clamp down on his cock and soak him, collapsing against his chest and he moves fast to wrap his arms around your body, rocking you on top of him as he seeks his own orgasm.

Dieter is frantic and greedy, bordering on desperate as he starts to shuffle his hips up. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” You cry out, gasping as he pushes it towards overstimulation. “Cum for me, baby.”

He falls apart as the command leaves your lips. His cock twitching as he paints your walls with his hot seed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He pants as he stiffens beneath you, his face buried in your neck as he cums for you, only for you.

You whine softly, loving how you’ve stopped using condoms since you’ve gotten married. One day you will go off your birth control and start a family, but you’ve decided to wait until your mother doesn't need as much care and Dieter is better established. “I love you.” You whisper, running your fingers through his hair gently.

He pants, kissing your chin as he looks up at you, “love you too.” He murmurs, caressing your back as you embrace while the pleasure echoes through your bodies. He sighs and presses a soft kiss to your lips just as your mom calls your name from upstairs.

You sigh softly. “At least we finished this time.” You chuckle, kissing his lips again before you pull off his cock with a groan. “Coming!” You call up the stairs as you move to the sink to clean up quickly so you can redress.

Dieter sighs, shifting to grab his pants from the floor. He knows you are an incredible person to take care of your mom and moving in with her has helped you both to save up money, hopefully for a move to L.A, but his mother in law has been a cock block since he moved in. He watches you rush around and get dressed before you run upstairs and he redresses, looking down at the script on the table. The phone rings on the wall and he calls out “I’ll get it.” He answers and frowns when they say his name. It’s his agent. The one he’s scrapped money together to get some auditions booked. “You got it! You got the part!” He announces and Dieter’s eyes widen, “th-the lead?” He asks, wanting to confirm. “The lead!” His agent grins and Dieter’s heart thumps in his chest. He got the lead. He got it. He finally did it. He grabs a notepad to take down the details. “So you need to move to L.A. Read through for the pilot is the first week of December.” His agent says and after writing down the details, Dieter says goodbye. His grin makes his cheeks hurt and he shakes his head in disbelief. 

When you come downstairs, his hands are shaking. “She wants some tea.” You announce as you walk to the stove and Dieter spins you around, pressing his lips to yours. “I did it!” He announces and you frown, “did what?” He chuckles, cupping your cheeks, “I got the part.”

“The part?” You’re confused for a moment before your eyes widen. “The part! That’s great baby!” You kiss him again. 

“Yeah we have to be in L.A by December first.” He tells you excitedly, making your face fall into a frown. “In L.A?” You ask, hoping that he is joking. “Yeah, we can go out this weekend and see about getting a place.” He immediately starts rambling and you get more and more worried as he starts to plan out leaving and catching his big break before he finally takes a breath. “Baby….” You bite your lip. “I can’t move to LA. What about mom? What about our life here? My job?” You don’t want to say it out loud, but Dieter has never been the financially stable one of the two of you. You wanted him to chase his dreams and you had always thought once he got it out of his system, he would settle down.

His excitement falters and he stares at you, his brow furrowing. "I, uh, I thought this was always the plan. You know, us, moving to L.A. You working on your art. Me on acting. Our fucking dreams baby. Have you forgotten we have dreams?" He growls, stepping back from you, "or are we gonna fucking die in this goddamn town like our fathers?"

You rear back from the venom in his voice. “Of course I haven’t forgotten we have dreams.” You tell him, hating how he is looking at you. “But sometimes you have to put your dreams on hold. Mom is sick. What am I supposed to do? Leave her alone? Who would take care of her?” You demand. “How will you pay rent if the part falls through? Or the show isn’t picked up? We have stability here. I’m not saying we don’t dream, but I have responsibilities right now.”

Dieter frowns, taking in your words, and his heart breaks. He can’t follow his dream and be with you so he’s going to have to give up his dream. This is his chance, he feels it in his stomach, but he knows you won’t leave your mother. “I can’t stay here forever.” He murmurs, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“I promise it won’t be forever.” You murmur softly, relieved that he is seeing reason. You step closer and he’s not pulling away again. Reaching out and caressing his cheek gently. “Within the next couple of years, we will be chasing our dreams for real.”

Dieter nods despite the part being in the back of his mind but it’s Thanksgiving. Maybe you’ll see reason in a couple of days. He doesn’t phone his agent back to turn down the role, wanting to see how things go. You work on getting the tea ready for your mom and Dieter stands up, “I’ve got a rehearsal for the show later so I’m gonna go shower.” He leans in to kiss your cheek, heading upstairs to the bathroom with Hollywood in the back of his mind.

After taking your mother her tea, you start prepping Thanksgiving. It’s a huge relief to have your family bringing dishes so it’s not all on you. You know you will have a lot to do and taking care of things now will help. Humming to yourself as you make the pie Dieter loves, you smile to yourself. It’s going to be a wonderful holiday.

**** 

Dieter taps his fingers on the table, listening to your uncle ramble on about the election and he clenches his jaw, trying to not snap at him. "Did you vote for that piece of shit or not, Bravo?" Your uncle Frank asks and Dieter sighs, not wanting to get into an argument. "I don't really get into politics." He answers diplomatically and Frank scoffs, "if you guys value your future, you would pay more goddamn attention." Dieter picks up his glass of wine and takes a sip, glancing across the room to where you are rushing around to grab what everyone needs before you all sit down for dinner. "You need any help, babe?" He calls out and you shake your head, "no. No. I'm nearly done. Everyone sit down!" You demand and you carry the mac and cheese to the table while everyone admires the feast in front of them. Your mom wants to say grace so Dieter reluctantly takes your hand, keeping one eye open as he holds his mom's hand on the other side of him. Your mom clears her throat before she speaks, "thank you Lord for the food we are about to eat. Thank you for family, friends, and loved ones. Thank you for every day we wake up and see the sunshine. May we have many days to come." She finishes with a cough and Dieter sees a tear roll down your cheek and he lifts your hand to press a kiss to the back of it while everyone says "Amen." You clear your throat and smile, telling everyone to dig in. 

The table is soon full of food and drinks and your aunt Susan decides to sour Dieter's mood. "So when are you planning on having kids? You two have been married for six months. I was five months pregnant by that stage." She giggles and turns towards you.

You feel Dieter tense beside you and your hand quickly slides under the table to squeeze his knee in reassurance. “We’ve decided to wait.” You remind everyone, the exact same thing you said when you were getting married. “Why? You’re married now, it’s time for you to start a family.” Frankie insists and you shake your head. “We have things we want to do before we have kids. If we even have them at all.” You add.

Frankie scoffs, "don't tell me that you are putting a family on hold so Dieter can become a fucking actor?" Dieter stiffens even more, knowing your uncle wasn't impressed by his career plans and thought he should get a real job to support you and any kids that come along. "I, uh, I got a part, actually. In a pilot, in L.A. It's about a detective." Dieter tries to defend himself and his mom chimes in with "really, baby? That's amazing. Oh I'm so proud of you." She coos, knowing how much her son wants to be an actor. Ever since he was a little boy it's been his dream but your family is relentless. 

"Proud of him? What's he gonna do? Drag her to L.A and leave his mother-in-law when she's sick? She's got fucking cancer and her son in law is gonna fuck off so he can follow some dream and come crawling back here when he fails and get a damn divorce because he didn't put his goddamn family over his selfish ass. He will never be famous." Frankie shakes his head and Dieter drops his fork, shrugging off his mom when she rubs his shoulder and pushing your hand away.

“Uncle Frank, that’s enough.” You hiss, although you aren’t shouting because you want to keep the peace as much as possible. “No, it’s not nearly enough.” He snorts and you shake your head. “Your vision of our life doesn’t matter. If Dieter wants to try to make it big in Hollywood, you should be proud of that.”

"Don't." Dieter murmurs, clenching his jaw, and he shoves his napkin on the table, "I'm sorry. I - I gotta go to the bathroom." He declares and you frown, "babe" but he strides off without glancing back at you. He storms into your bathroom, leaning over the vanity to look at himself in the mirror. 

"I have a fucking role. I know I can do it. I know I can be an actor. Just need a fucking chance." He hisses through his teeth. "All I need is a chance. I'll fucking prove that asshole wrong." He growls to himself and glances at his toothbrush sitting next to yours. He will never make it in Hollywood if he stays here. He will never prove them wrong. You'll get pregnant and he will give up on his dream. He'll lose his hair, go grey, get wrinkles, and a beer gut like every other fucker in this town. He will be a loser just like them. "I'm not a fucking loser." He mutters and grabs his toothbrush.

“Why do you have to be an asshole?” You hiss to your uncle as everyone else shifts uncomfortably. “The boy has to face reality.” Frank insists, frowning heavily. “He’s not going to be an actor. He needs to get a better job to support you instead of you paying all the damn bills and running yourself ragged while he pretends to work at that stupid little community theatre.”

Dieter rushes around your bedroom, packing essentials, and he grabs a piece of paper from your nightstand, scribbling out a message to you. You'll come to find him any second so his handwriting is awful. He slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and looks at the bed you share. Hopefully you understand why he's doing this. He loves you but he needs to do this for himself. He has to prove everyone wrong. He hesitates for a second when he sees your wedding photo as he turns towards the door and he sighs, shaking his head before he makes his way downstairs quietly. "You need to dump his ass. That Grayson boy wanted to marry you and he works at his daddy's dealership. He's got a career and he's gonna be a big deal in this town. Should've married him." Frank scoffs and Dieter swallows harshly, making his way down the hall to the front door. He opens it softly and steps outside, the cold air making him shiver and he gets in his car, not hesitating as he backs out the driveway and begins his journey. "L.A here I come." He mutters, knowing he will return to his hometown a fucking Oscar winner.

You finally have to leave the table. Not even your mother chiding your uncle has helped and you are sick of his damned opinions. “Dee?” You knock on the door to your shared bedroom, wanting to give him a chance to compose himself if he’s upset. He’s a lot more sensitive than most would believe. “Baby….” You open the door and frown when you don’t see him sitting on the bed and looking miserable. “Hun?” The bathroom light is off and you sigh. Thinking that maybe he had gone outside until you spot the paper on the bed. Stomach sinking in dread, you stare at it for a moment before you reach for the slip of paper. Hand trembling, you unfold it and see that Dieter has scrawled “I can’t wait for my dreams. I’m sorry.” You choke back a sob, realizing that he’s left and you don’t even know when he’ll be home.

**** 

"Fuckkkkk yessss." Dieter groans as he watches the woman take his cock into his mouth while her boyfriend slides into her from behind. It's a naughty sight he's familiar with and he fucking loves it. "Look so fucking gorgeous." He coos and the man smirks, "says the Oscar winning actor and People's Sexiest Man of the Year 2023." Dieter smirks, chest puffing slightly as the woman giggles as she squeezes his cock. "should get best cock of the year too." She coos and Dieter caresses her cheek, "fuck. You two are gonna make me cum with words." He smirks, "you free next weekend?" He asks, wanting to spend more time with his co-stars. 

"We are going to New York. It's - fuck - Thanksgiving." The man reminds Dieter who frowns as his cock is pushed further down the woman's throat. Thanksgiving. Something he hasn't celebrated in the years since he left you during the middle of dinner. His assistant has probably booked for him to go to Hawaii again. "Guess I'll see you when you get back." He says and smirks when he shifts onto his knees to kiss his co-star. 

**** 

"What do you mean the fucking flight is canceled?" Dieter growls at the check in assistant at the first class desk. He would travel private but holidays are fucking expensive. "I'm sorry, Mr. Bravo, but the flights have been canceled to Hawaii. The fires..." She trails off and Dieter scoffs, "what a joke. So what the fuck am I gonna do?" He asks her, eyebrows raised above his aviators. "We can get you a flight somewhere else. Or a refund. If you want to go somewhere, this flight is leaving at the same time as your previous flight." She turns the screen and his jaw drops when he sees the flight is to his hometown. "No. No. Not there. Anywhere but there." He demands and she nods, "I can issue a refund but-" Dieter cuts her off, "actually. Get me a ticket. First class." He demands, remembering that he hasn't seen his mom in years and his co-stars talked about how nice it is to go home for the holidays. He will go home and show everyone in that fucking town that he's back. The Oscar Winning Actor who won Sexiest Man of the Year 2023 is fucking back. "There you go, Mr. Bravo. Enjoy your trip." She hands him the ticket and he smirks, "oh I will."

**** 

“Mom, I really don’t feel like celebrating this year.” It’s the same comment you make every year, but you are always overruled. “Don’t be ridiculous.” True to what you had told Dieter, your mother had beaten cancer and was now happily in remission. You still live with her, not because you are taking care of her, but because you didn’t want to live alone after Dieter had left you. “Don’t worry, I’ve already invited Sean.” She assures you. “And Debra won’t mind him being there.” You roll your eyes, wishing that Dieter’s mother wasn’t also your mom’s best friend and automatically invited to every family event. Even if you were technically still family since Dieter would never sign the damn divorce papers.

Dieter takes his glasses off his face when he rings the doorbell of his childhood home and his mom answers within a few moments. "Dieter?" She gasps, shocked to see her son, "hi mom." He smiles and she squeals, surging forward to wrap her arms around his neck. "You're home. I can't believe it." She cries and Dieter embraces her. Despite his playboy reputation in L.A, he's always been a momma's boy. "I missed you. Let me look at you." She cups his cheeks and frowns, "you don't eat enough and you pierced your ear. And got more tattoos." She tuts, "but other than that, you are my boy." She kisses his cheek and lets go of him when he flushes, "mom." She steps back and ushers him inside, "come in, come in. I'm just cooking." Dieter follows her inside the familiar home and it hasn't changed. 

"I'm just cooking for the dinner tomorrow." She explains and Dieter raises his eyebrows, "dinner?" She nods and says your mom's name, "it's Thanksgiving." She says with a giggle, "silly goose." Dieter frowns, "I, uh, I should probably stay here. I'll be fine." He promises and his mom nods, "yeah. She will be there." His mom never mentions your name on the phone when she discusses her best friend and her life. He heard about your mom beating cancer and he took a hit of coke to celebrate. "She's engaged. So it's probably best that you don't go." She says, still protective over you despite Dieter being her son. She was shocked when you came back in to announce that Dieter had left and she wanted to slap him silly for leaving the best thing to ever happen to him. Even if he was preoccupied with his dreams. "Engaged?" Dieter chokes, knowing he has no right to be shocked but his stomach twists. "She's happy." His mom says and Dieter scoffs, "happy. Still in this damn town. She can't be happy. Who's she engaged to?" He asks and Debra sighs, "Sean Grayson. He's good for her. Baby, I know...I know you left and wow, you've made me so proud seeing you as an Oscar winner and all but...it's time to let her go." She reaches for his hand and Dieter pulls his hand away before she can touch him. 

"I want to meet him. I'm going to dinner." He declares, spinning on his heel to call around, see if he can at least get some weed from someone around town. "Oh boy." Debra mutters, knowing this year will be drama filled but maybe it will be good for everyone to get closure.

Waking up on Thanksgiving is always so damn surreal for you. You dread the day, wouldn’t do anything but hide in your bed if you had your way, but you can’t do that. Your mom only let you have the first year after Dieter left to sulk. After that, she had decided Thanksgiving would go on, and so would you. So you just wake up and stare at the ceiling, knowing that this would be the last year you would sleep in this bed. The same one you shared with Dieter although you had replaced the mattress five years ago. “Fuck.” You groan, looking over at the nightstand where another copy of the divorce papers are waiting to be mailed after the holiday.

Dieter wakes up with a groan as his mom bangs on the door to his childhood bedroom. "Dieter! We are leaving in twenty minutes!" Debra shouts through the door and Dieter winces as he rubs his cheek. "Ugh, shit." He rasps as he glances at the clock. It's nearly eleven. He managed to find some weed last night. Ironically the dealer was the same kid who would sell weed in high school and he was shocked when Dieter met him. "No way man, I fucking loved you in Hunger Strike. Here, some E on me." He shoved the baggies at Dieter who offered him a polite smile and paid him before smoking in his room like he used to do when he was sixteen. He rolls out of bed and showers, groaning at his reflection. He's older, wrinkled, graying hair. Everything Frank said he would be but he's famous. He's successful. That's all that matters and today, he gets to show that to everyone who doubted him. He dresses in nicer jeans and a button down, wanting to appear successful since they cost more than someone's rent for the month. "You ready, mom?" He asks and Debra nods, "are you ready?" She emphasizes and Dieter smirks, "let's go."

Even though you would rather be anywhere else, you come downstairs dressed nicely and make sure that you put on makeup this morning. Sean likes when you dress up for him and since this is the first Thanksgiving spent with him here, you make the effort. Hours later, it is almost time for everyone to arrive and you are putting your pie in the oven.

The drive to your mom's house is quiet and Dieter looks out at the town he left in the dust. It hasn't changed and he is nervous. He knows you must hate him. You've sent him divorce papers several times throughout the years but he has never signed them. He doesn't really know why. Sometimes he's gotten high or drunk and signed them but never mailed them. Sometimes he's ripped them up and had his assistant overnight them back to you. He should give you a divorce but he can't do it. Even if he doesn't know why. Pulling up on the familiar driveway, he adjusts his sweater and follows his mom to the front door, bracing himself as she rings the doorbell.

“I’ll get it!” You just texted Sean, so you are pretty sure that it’s Debra. If you can get the talk about Dieter out of the way before he gets here, you would feel a lot better. The last thing you want to do this year is be reminded all day that your husband left you. “Hi, Deb-“ your smile freezes as you open the door to your mother in law and find not only her, but your absentee husband standing on the doorstep with a disgustingly charming smile on his handsome face. “What the fuck?”

Dieter slides his eyes down your body, taking in the sight of you after so many years apart and God, you’re just as fucking beautiful. But you are glaring at him like he just shot your dog and he guesses he deserves that. “Hi honey. I’m home.” He jokes, unable to do anything else right now.

“Are you delivering the divorce papers in person?” You demand and he huffs, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “What divorce papers?” He feigns ignorance and Debra chuckles awkwardly. “Now, now, it’s Thanksgiving!” She reminds both of you before she calls out to your mom. “Where do you want the casserole?” She slides by you into the house and leaves you staring at Dieter.

“I wanted to come home and see everyone. Is there something wrong with that?” Dieter continues to smile, loving how affected you seem to be by his appearance. “I missed my mom’s casserole.” He pouts, “and you.”

You rock your jaw, seeing how Dieter’s smile has shifted to a smirk. “Missed me?” You snort and you know that you have to let him in or risk causing a scene. “I doubt that. Where’s that fitness model you were dating? And the hotel concierge?” You watch him shift and his arms drop to his sides, telling you when he’s feeling guilty. “Guess they couldn’t make it?” You don’t invite him in, but you turn and just walk away with the door still open.

Dieter clenches his jaw, knowing his flings have been well broadcasted and his relationship with Anika fell apart because she wanted to get married and he couldn’t explain why he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t tell her he was already married. He huffs and strides into your house, one he knows well but there are differences in decor since he was last here. Shutting the door behind him, he follows you down the hall into the living room where your family is gathered. “Uncle Frank.” Dieter grins, walking over to the old man to slap him on the back, “so good to see you.”

Your uncle Frank’s eyes widen in shock when he turns to see the man he had once called a loser standing next to him. Dieter is successful, famous and rich. He chokes out a “Dieter,” without swallowing his tongue. “You’re here for Thanksgiving?”

Dieter wishes there was a camera to take a photo of the man who ridiculed him so many years ago for chasing his dream. Dieter nods, “yes. Figured I’d come home and see everyone. How you doing?” He asks and Frank chokes out “I’m the same.” Dieter tuts and shakes his head, “that’s a shame. You’ve done nothing with your life.” He mocks and your aunt Susan comes over to him, “you were amazing in Hunger Strike. You really deserved the Oscar.” She says and Dieter grins, standing straighter, “yeah. Thanks. I, uh, I worked my ass off on that role.”

You walk into the kitchen, seething in anger that Dieter just waltzes back into your life and now it could ruin everything. “Why the fuck is he here?”

Your mom sighs, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t know Deb was bringing him. Hell, I didn’t even know he was back home. What - what are you gonna do? Sean is arriving any minute.” As soon as she says that, the doorbell rings.

“Oh shit.” Your eyes close in frustration and you rush out of the room to open the door before anyone else. Luckily Dieter is letting your aunt fawn and coo over him, as if she’s not completely aware that he had broken your heart.

Dieter watches you rush past the living room down the hall and he offers your aunt a smile as she gushes over his movies. This is what he wanted. To return to adoration. To come back be someone. Not a loser. His grin is cocky as he accepts her praise until you walk into the living with Sean Grayson behind you. He hated that kid in high school. He was a jock who’d make fun of Dieter for being the weird theater kid.

“Listen, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we stay.” You murmur to Sean. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He huffs. “I’ve been looking forward to Thanksgiving with your family.”

Your family, especially Uncle Frank, all coo over Sean as he strides into the living room and your uncle reaches out to shake his hand. “So glad you could come.” He grins and Dieter rolls his eyes, he’s never been greeted like that by your asshole uncle. Sean makes the rounds to say hello until he’s facing Dieter. “Oh. Wow. Bravo. You’re back in town.” Sean says and Dieter nods, holding out his hand, digging his rings into his flesh a little harder than normal. “Yep. Back in town. Figured I’d have a small town Thanksgiving for once instead of trying to cool down in Hawaii.”

You bite your lip and watch your fiancé interact with your technical husband. He smiles that smarmy smile you’ve noticed he’s developed over the years when you’ve accidentally seen interviews and articles with him in them. The one that you can tell is fake. “I need a drink? Does anyone need a drink?” You ask. “Sean, why don’t you come help me, sweetheart?”

​​Dieter watches you walk off with Sean and Uncle Frank nudges the actor. “New man on the scene. You know, his daddy gave him the dealership. Boy is making good money and he bought her a hell of a ring. Much nicer than that tin you gave her.” Frank snorts and Dieter clenches his jaw and gives him a tight smile. “I wasn’t rich then. I could buy her a million dollar ring and still not touch the sides.”

“But why would you?” He asks. “You’re banging everything you can get your hands on. We aren’t so small town that we don’t know what you’re doing in Hollywood.” In the kitchen, you are rushing to get the wine glasses while Sean gets the wine. “I can’t believe Bravo came.” Sean snorts. “Got to be a shock to see your ex-husband here.”

Dieter snorts, wishing he had a cigarette or something to distract himself from the hell he volunteered for. He imagined you would be grateful for his return and he’s found you engaged to a fucking asshole who used to bully him. “True. You know, I was in a throuple.” Dieter smirks, “wore me out and I ended it because I needed to give my body a break, if you know what I mean.” He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Frank curls his lip and turns away from Dieter, moving over towards his wife and leaning in to whisper something in her ear. “Yeah- uh, it’s kind of a shock.” You tell Sean, quickly opening the bottle he opened and pouring out drinks. “Just- um, please don’t talk about the wedding or anything?” You beg him. “I don’t want Dieter to try to bring up the past today. I don’t know if I can handle it.” Sean knows all about Dieter leaving you on the holiday and has been supportive of you so far. You can only hope that Dieter doesn’t run his fucking mouth. You’ve never actually told Sean you are still married to the actor, assuming he would get bored of whatever little game he had been playing and sign the damned papers. The judge wouldn’t grant you a divorce without Dieter present because of his fame and the wealth he has, despite you promising the old coot you just wanted the divorce. He had also been the one to marry you and Dieter forever ago and had a history of no divorces amongst the couples who had been married by him. It makes you want to tear your hair out.

Sean nods, coming over to you so he can rub your upper arms. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s gonna be okay. We won’t let him ruin this holiday again.” Sean murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Just ignore him and if you want, I’ll kick his ass.” Sean smirks, “been wanting to do it since high school anyway.”

You frown slightly, hearing an anticipation in Sean’s voice that you didn’t like. You know they didn’t get along in high school, but that was so long ago. “No, nothing like that.”

Sean nods, "fine. Let's get a drink and ignore his ass." Sean reaches for a bottle of beer and opens it, talking a gulp. Meanwhile, Dieter is thanking your mom when she hands him a glass of white wine. He wishes it was stronger but he doesn't want to get sloppy. Today, he's here to show everyone that they were wrong.

You try not to even look at Dieter when you come back into the room, reassured by the kiss shared in the kitchen and the weight of Sean’s hand on your waist. “Dinner should be ready in fifteen.” You tell everyone, smiling but avoiding looking over towards Dieter and Debra.

Dieter's gaze drops to the hand on your waist and he shifts from one foot to the other. He knows he has no claim over you but he feels jealous. He talks to his mom who smiles at him, happy he's home, and finally, everyone is sitting down for dinner. 

"So, Bravo, why'd you come back? To this town?" Sean asks after you walk into the kitchen to grab the salt and pepper. "To see my mom. To see everyone since I've been gone for so long." Dieter answers and Sean snorts, "yeah. Years. Looks like you've been busy too. Work wise and with partners." Dieter snorts, "true. I have been very busy." He smirks, "that's why I came home. I needed rest."

You look down at your plate after sitting down, pretending not to care about the conversation but it stings. A knife to your chest just like that time….you reach for your glass and take another gulp of your wine. Dieter had moved on, obviously, and so have you. It does no good to delve into the past. “Well, our small town is the perfect place for rest.” You manage brightly, picking up your fork again.

Dieter hums, “that it is. That it is.” Sean narrows his eyes slightly when he sees the way Dieter looks at you. “So what are your plans? Just hanging around? Or you gonna go out? We don’t need the town to be disrupted.” He bites at Dieter who chuckles and nods, “I’m used to signing autographs and taking photos. I just don’t want fans to be stalking me. I’ve had some issues back home with fans following me home. I did take one to bed once but she ended up being crazy.”

You shudder, forking up a bite of your food and holding it at your mouth. “I’m sure that after tonight Dieter will go back to LA where he belongs.” You look towards your fiancé. “Our small town is boring and there’s nothing here for him.” You’ll give him the papers again when Sean leaves.

Dieter shakes his head, “I wouldn’t say that. This town has its charms.” His dark eyes focus on you, “but enough about me. What about you two? Tell me how you met.” He orders, setting his fork down to take a sip of wine.

You are about to change the subject, but Sean actually reaches over and squeezes your knee. “Well, her car was on its last leg, a rolling road hazard really, so she came in to find another vehicle.” Sean explains. “Since dad turned over the dealership to me, I find that I actually like to be on the sales floor. I sold her on the idea of that pretty little car in the driveway and a date.” He chuckles at his own joke and you smile at him when he looks over, although your appetite is gone and your stomach is in knots.

Dieter chuckles, a fake smile on his face as he looks at you. You look a little sick, definitely look like you want to floor to swallow you up. “And do you make her cum?” Dieter asks bluntly, “because she used to love it when I ate her out.”

“Dieter!” His name is not only hissed by you, but by his mother, and your own. Your aunt gasping and your uncle grumbling about degenerate behavior while you wish you could just disappear. Sean stiffens but he looks over at you and smirks. “Well, I’m the one taking care of her now.” He turns back towards Dieter. “And I’m not talking about my fiancée like that.”

Dieter falters for a second upon hearing you’re engaged to that asshole but he recovers and smirks back, “so you eat her ass? She used to love that. Would make her drip onto the bed sheets.” He continues to push the boundaries and his mother slaps his arm, “I cannot believe you. Be quiet.” She pleads but Dieter stares at Sean, silently challenging the man you’re engaged to.

Your face feels like it’s on fire, thoroughly embarrassed by Dieter’s childish behavior and the very personal questions. Sean snorts and shakes his head. “You’re something else, Bravo.” He tells him. “It’s a good damn thing she didn’t stay in LA with you. You would have mortified her in interviews.”

Dieter leans back in his chair, his brow furrowing, "what are you talking about? She didn't come to L.A." He scoffs, "she never wanted to come to L.A. She wanted to stay in this shithole town and have babies and die having never achieved anything."

Sean frowns and looks at you. “I thought you said you met up with him in LA to give him the divorce papers?” He asks and you huff out a nervous smile. “I mean- I did, but I-“ Dieter chuckles. “Nope. Never happened.” He announces. “Dieter-“ you try to stop him, but he just smirks at Sean. “We’re still married.”

Dieter watches Sean's face drop and he chuckles, "she didn't tell you? She's still Mrs. Bravo." He reveals and his mom nudges him but this moment is so satisfying. To see that smug look fall from that asshole’s face. "We don't have a pre-nup so it's not financially viable for me to divorce."

“You told me you were divorced.” Sean’s eyes narrow towards you and you know that he’s pissed. “Baby, I’ve been trying to-“ “You know how I feel about shit like that!” He hisses, his chair scraping the floor as he pushes back from his plate quickly. “You’ve been lying to me. I can’t-“ he shakes his head and stalks around the table to edge towards the door. Leaping up, you rush after him, hoping you can explain.

Dieter smirks and his mom slaps his arm again, “why would you do that?” She asks and Uncle Frank scoffs, “because he’s an asshole.” Dieter hums, feeling satisfied to make Sean angry. “Well, let’s not let the food go to waste.” He declares and digs back into his food.

Outside you are chasing after Sean. “Wait! I can explain.” You tell him, making him stop and spin around. “You can explain how you’ve been lying to me?” He demands, his face showing how hurt and upset he is. You sigh. “I’ve been trying to divorce Dieter since I went to LA. But he refuses to do anything with the papers I’ve sent his lawyer, his agent, him directly.” You wave your arm around in frustration. “And the judge will not do anything until he does sign them!”

“So you accepted my proposal knowing you are already married? What were you gonna do? Be a bigamist?” He hisses and you shake your head, tears in your eyes. “I can’t- I can’t marry someone who lies to me and I need time. I- I’ll call you later.” He shrugs off your touch when you reach for him and he stomps over to his car, getting in and speeding off down the road.

You watch the car for a moment, angry and hurt, even though you know that he is right. You lied to him, afraid of losing the first stable relationship since Dieter had left you. Walking back inside, you find Dieter calmly eating Thanksgiving dinner like he hadn’t just turned your life upside down again. “Thanks for that, you fucking selfish prick!” You yell. “Why did you even come back here now? To ruin Thanksgiving for me all over? Mission accomplished!” You turn back around and rush out of the house again, tears streaming down your face.

Dieter scoffs and stands up, following you outside because he needs to say what he’s been thinking since he arrived. You spin around when you see him, telling him to leave you alone. “Like you really wanted to marry that prick. He just wants you to be a homemaker. Pop out his babies. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about your dreams. I did, remember? But you didn’t follow your dreams. You stayed here to fucking rot in this fucking town.” Dieter growls, “you’re the one who gave up on us. Not me. I left to do what we always said we’d do. I had the balls to follow my dreams.”

“Fuck you.” You hiss, glaring at him and wanting so back to slap him. “Apparently following your dreams was also fucking other people!” You watch as his eyes widen and you laugh at the irony. “I went to LA, Dieter! A week after you mailed me your apartment key, I flew out to surprise you. Mom had just been told the cancer treatment had been successful and I wanted to tell you in person.”

Tears are streaming down your face as you tell him. “I crept into the apartment only to find your dick down some bitch’s throat while her boyfriend was fucking her. Allllllll while you moaned about how you were going to fuck them both. So I left.”

He flinches, remembering that night, and he wondered why his door was unlocked at the time but figured his guests hadn’t locked it. “I- I- what was I supposed to do? You didn’t want me. You made it clear that I didn’t matter when I got the part and you refused to follow me. Your mom could’ve come with us. I don’t - I refuse to apologize for living my damn life.” He growls back before he swallows and slumps, “I’m sorry. I- fuck - okay? I’m so goddamn sorry. I missed you. Whenever I got drunk, I’d pick up the phone and call you and you’d answer and - and I’d lose my shit and hang up. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have left but I achieved my dream. I couldn’t stay here and be called a loser by your family anymore. I had to prove myself and my chance came. I had to take it. No matter the cost.”

“No matter the cost.” You nod, feeling deflated. “That cost was our marriage. But I guess it was worth it, right?” You ask. “You get to fuck whoever you want, everyone wants to fuck an Oscar winner.” You turn around and rush off, wanting to be alone.

He lets you walk away this time, knowing how you feel and he can tell you hate him. He’s ruined everything for you because he was selfish and wanted to achieve his dreams. Your mom was sick, he should’ve stayed, but it’s too late to turn back the clock. He watches you walk off and feels a hand on his shoulder. It’s your mom. “I- I’m sorry. I ruined her life.” He murmurs and turns to look at his mother in law. 

“You know, I was so angry when you left. On Thanksgiving of all days. She fell apart. Wouldn’t speak to me. Just helped me get better and I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for her, but I feel guilty. She never got to achieve her dreams. I held her back. And to know that I could’ve stopped you from your success is equally as bad. I hate you for leaving her but I love you for accomplishing your dream. When I was sick, I had so many regrets. I had to face death and I realized I didn’t do anything that I set out to do. After you left, I decided to do all the things that I wanted to do when I was better. I did all that and it’s because of you. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be regretting all the things I didn’t do. You are a great actor, Dieter, but right now, you need to be yourself and be honest. Do you want to be married to my daughter when you are in L.A and she has found someone who can give her what she needs? She wants children. She wants to be happy. She can’t do that if she’s constantly clinging to the past. Do the right thing.” She urges and Dieter sighs, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’ll go talk to her.” He promises, knowing where you are. Where you used to go. It doesn’t take long to walk to the park, finding you on the swing set you’d hang out at as kids.

You sniff as you kick at the rubber that they replaced the old sand with. It’s not nearly as satisfying as you had thought when you got to tell Dieter off and him being here has stirred up emotions you had thought you had buried deep enough. Sean is a good guy, but he isn’t Dieter. He doesn’t dream with you, and he can be annoyingly practical all the time. You hate how your heart had kicked in your chest when you opened the door to see your husband standing there. As if you sense his presence, you look up to see him walking towards you. Making you sigh softly and kick off to start swinging.

Dieter approaches you cautiously, not wanting to be screamed at again, and he sits down on the swing next to you. “Your mom talked to me. She’s still the same. Like my second mom.” He chuckles and glances at you until he turns his gaze to the falling leaves. “I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. I have been selfish and I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve stayed. Talked to you. Made a plan together.” He inhales deeply, “I’ll sign the papers. No arguments. I’ll let you go so you can be happy with Sean.”

You sigh, continuing to swing as you absorb what he is saying. “It doesn’t matter now.” You finally admit. “Sean’s first wife had an affair so he hates liars and cheaters.” You snort to yourself. “And technically, I’m both.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve really fucked up your life. I’ll sign the papers and get you one of those uh, what is it the models want, a Birkin bag.” He teases and you roll your eyes. “I won’t fuck your life any more. I’ll sign the papers.” He promises softly.

“Why wouldn’t you sign them before now?” You ask. “Seriously? I asked for nothing. Not one dime. No spousal support, no alimony, nothing. But you wouldn’t sign them while you were galavanting around the world and having public relationships with models.”

He looks down at his hands, the tattoo he got when he was eighteen of the circle you’d draw on his hand during class. He rubs the circle and sighs, “because I never stopped loving you. I know you won’t believe me and I’m not asking for anything but I thought if I signed the papers…it’s over. We are over. I didn’t want to face that when no one in Hollywood ever loved me. Not for me. Not like you did. I love you and I was selfish to keep you trapped in our marriage while I did whatever I wanted, whoever I wanted. I’ll sign the papers and I’ll talk to Sean. Tell him it was my fault. I threatened you to not sign the papers because I- I don’t know, because I didn’t want to give you any money. I’ll take the blame and you can be single and marry him, if that’s what you want.”

“You know you broke my heart, when you left?” You ask softly. “That's why I wouldn’t talk to you in the beginning. I was upset. If you had just talked to me about a plan that didn’t just include dropping everything, I would have gone along.” You continue to swing as you talk. “I wanted to be with you in LA. Wanted to help you make your dream come true, but you didn’t need me. You had everyone else.”

Dieter shakes his head, flexing his fingers, “everyone else?” He scoffs, “no one really wanted me. They wanted fame, money, connections. They didn’t give a fuck about me. The real me. I had to get lost in the haze of drugs and booze to feel something. No one has ever made me feel like you do.” He admits, “no one ever came close to you.”

“Poor Dieter.” You don’t murmur it sarcastically like you probably should have, despite everything you have to admit to yourself that you still love him. “You have everything you wanted and are more alone than ever.”

He knows he should put his walls back up and say his life is amazing but he is exhausted from pretending. “No one loves me. Not really. They only love what I can give them.” He sighs and rubs his hands.

“Your mom loves you.” You point out, even though you know that’s not what he means. Dieter huffs and you smile at his pout. “I still love you.” You admit. “It’s why I’m so fucking angry at you.”

Dieter clicks his tongue, “you still love me? Why? I’ve treated you like shit. Worse than shit. You should hate me. Fuck, I hate me.” He confesses, staring at the tarmac beneath his feet. “You deserve everything.”

“You can’t help who you love, Dieter.” You remind him, scoffing at both of you. “You broke my heart and refused to let me move on, but I watched the Oscars the night you won.” You confess. “Got drunk when I saw you making out with that model at the Vanity Fair after party.”

“I had - my PR needed me to date and make a name for myself until it became about me helping those girls make a name for themselves. I didn’t connect with anyone. Never had a relationship. Just one night stands. It was never serious. It was never you.” He closes his eyes and sighs.

“There’s no way I could compete with those women.” You scoff. “And men. They are gorgeous.”

Dieter chuckles humorlessly, "pretty but so fucking dumb. Trust me, baby. None of them had a lot of brain cells. They are beautiful but none of them wanted to talk about life. They just wanted to be seen with me and go on their way when they got what they wanted."

Some might call you stupid, but you feel bad for him. Dieter has always had this need to feel love, to be connected to someone. “I’m sorry that fame hasn’t been all you thought it would be.” You murmur. “I know that after I came back from LA, I- I just lost my passion. I couldn’t work on my art anymore. Everything was just dismal.”

“The grass ain’t always greener, huh?” He snorts and kicks his feet as he swings. “I’m sorry. I sent you that key when I was high and I always miss you when I’m high. I wanted to see you and figured that was one way to get you to L.A. I didn’t know…fuck, I wish I’d known.” He admits, “I, uh, I haven’t been with anyone for six months. Kinda lost the appeal. Casual sex. I miss how we used to be. Our sex.” He confesses, glancing at you.

“We had great sex.” You admit, never telling Sean that he didn’t quite measure up to your ex. That would have been wrong. “Maybe too good of sex.” You sigh again. “A month after you left, I found out I was pregnant. Or I thought I was.”

Dieter’s eyes widen, “you thought you were-? Did you-? I mean, I completely understand if you decided to, you know.” He finishes softly, his stomach twisting.

“No.” You quickly shake your head. “I, uh, lost the pregnancy a couple of weeks later.” You had confirmed with your doctor that it was likely you were in the early stages but it obviously wasn’t meant to be. He told you that stress could have caused it, or there was something wrong with the baby to not be viable. Either way, it had felt like the universe was telling you to let Dieter go. And then a month later you found him fucking another couple.

He hates that he wasn’t there, that he possibly caused it if you were upset by him leaving. “I’m so sorry.” He murmurs, “I know - there’s nothing I can say that will make that better or make it right.” He reaches for your hand to squeeze it, “I ruined your life. Your happiness.”

It’s the first time Dieter has touched you since he left so many Thanksgivings ago, but your heart still pounds and your skin tingles. “I wish we could have done things differently.” You squeeze his hand back gently.

Dieter nods, “me too. I wish I hadn’t fucked up. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.” He confesses and kisses the back of your hand, “even better than an Oscar, but…that time of our lives is over now. I know you can’t forgive me. I’ll sign the papers.” He promises, letting go of your hand.

You frown to yourself as you wrap your hand around the chain for the swing and push off again. “Do you remember that weekend we each told our parents we were going to stay at a friend’s house and we went to that little cabin your grandfather owned?”

Dieter frowns, the memory is one that got buried beneath the haze of drugs and booze but he remembers. “Yeah. Our first time.” He smiles, fondly reminded of the night you first slept together. “It was so fucking cold and I couldn’t get the fire started. Turns out having sex is a great way to keep warm.” He chuckles, starting to swing alongside you.

“That was the day I decided I was going to marry you.” You hum at the memory, smiling softly at the way a very young Dieter had panicked that he had ruined the moment for you. You had both been kids at the time, growing up together. “That’s a fun fact that the world doesn’t know about Dieter Bravo.” You tease. “You married the girl that took your virginity.”

Dieter chuckles, “Entertainment Tonight would have a field day.” He winks at you when you giggle, “it took me way too damn long to propose to you but I was scared you were gonna say no. Who wanted to marry a wannabe actor making his money in a community theater with no house? I was a shitshow.” He scoffs, shaking his head at himself.

“You were my shitshow.” You laugh, leaning back in the swing and kicking your feet higher. “It was us against the world back then, and I didn’t believe you would make it honestly, but I wanted you to try.”

“Hey. My improv was fucking great.” He defends himself playfully, “but I had to try. Even if I went to L.A and failed, I had to try. I couldn’t live life thinking what if. Imagine if I hadn’t gone? I’d be sat at the kitchen table with our kids wondering what could’ve been. I just wish you’d been by my side when I left.” He says as he swings.

“Hard to be by your side when you left without a word. Just a note on the bed.” There’s no heat in your tone, just irony. “It just- wasn’t meant to be.”

“And Sean is meant to be?” Dieter snorts. “Do you really want to marry that asshole?”

“He’s…..” you blow out a sigh, “safe.” You admit to him and to yourself. “I like him, he’s a good man……” you know you aren’t answering the real question and it’s ironic that Dieter is the only one to ask you that since you and Sean got engaged. “No.” You confess after a moment. “I don’t to want to marry him.”

Dieter nods, quiet for a moment as he absorbs your words, “I can’t sit here and lecture you. I have no authority in your life but you need to do what you want. Fuck everyone else. You sacrificed so much of yourself for everyone around you. Even me. I was selfish and you are still sitting here talking to me. Do what you want. Be selfish for once.” He demands, wanting you to be happy.

You want to be selfish and you drag your feet along the ground to stop yourself and hop off the swing. Turning towards Dieter, you grab the chain and pull him to a stop. His eyes widen and for a second, you both think that you’re going to slap him. He would deserve it. Instead, you lunge forward and press your lips to his.

Dieter is shocked when your lips smash against his and he reacts within seconds, wrapping his arms around you to drag you into his lap. As soon as your lips touch his, his muscle memory kicks in and he deepens the kiss. Reminded of so many kisses shared all those years ago.

You are shocked by how quickly Dieter clings to you. You’re angry at him, how could you not be? But you’ve missed him so much that it doesn’t matter right now. Your fingers sink into his longer hair and you moan, enjoying how it feels. You always wanted him to grow his hair out.

Your fingers pull on his hair and he groans into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass. He devours you, knowing this is wrong, and you’re going to push him away any second, but right now he’s greedy and he wants you.

You let yourself be taken away by the moment. Leaning into him, breathing him in. His base scent is still the same, woodsy and you swear he is still wearing the same cologne you had picked out for him years ago.

He knows you’ll pull away any second and he readies himself for that rejection as he leans back, pecking your lips until he kisses your cheeks and finally, your forehead. “I never stopped loving you.” He promises breathlessly, his hands sliding up your back. “I just wanted to make you proud but I fucked it all up.”

“You did fuck it up all up.” You won’t spare his feelings, but you reach out and caress his cheek. “But I am proud of you, Dieter. Every movie broke my heart and made me proud. Every role, even when you were on Broadway.” You sigh. “I went to your performance, the second week in.”

“You did?” He asks, eyes widening as he looks at you and his heart is pounding in his chest. He hasn’t felt like this in so many years. He hasn’t felt anything real for so long.

“I had to see it. You talked about Broadway the entire time you were at our local theatre. I honestly didn’t expect you to take the role, but when it was announced, I bought tickets.” You tell him. You cried through the entire thing, but people just thought you were moved by the performances.

He smiles softly, loving that you came to see him even if you hated him. You are kind enough to support him even when he ruined your life. “So what now? You gonna tell Sean you don’t want to marry him? I go home and we act like this never happened?” He asks quietly, worried that you’ll nod and send him away.

“I don’t know.” You bite your lip. “I don’t know what you want. You have a life in LA, a …..persona.” You add. “If you want that life, still….” You shrug. “I don’t think I can be a part of it.”

“Come with me to L.A. There’s nothing keeping you here. I want you to see my life and I want you to do something for yourself. Make your dreams come true. Paint. Do whatever you want. I’ll support you. I don’t give a fuck about my persona. I want to be with you and if you want to go home, if you get sick of me, I’ll book you a private jet straight back here.” He promises, “just give me another chance. Give us another chance.”

You lick your lips, staring at him and watching him start to shift nervously. “You want me to move to LA? Live with you?” He nods enthusiastically. “I do, baby, I want you to come be with me.” You lick your lips. “What do I have to lose?”

He nods, not allowing himself to get too excited. "And if you hate it, hate me, wanna come home...I'll sign the papers." He promises, nudging his nose against yours.

You snort. “I doubt that.” You tease, closing the gap to press your lips to his again. “I’ve never hated you, even when I hated you.” You had been so upset at him, but it’s only because you loved him so much. You still love him.

**** 

“Baby! Did you get the juice boxes?” You call out and Dieter strides into the dining room with the boxes for the kids. “Here you go.” He leans over to kiss the head of his three year old son before handing another box to your five year old daughter who opens it herself while saying “thanks daddy.” It’s so weird to hear that even now and Dieter can’t believe he’s a father. He smiles at his daughter and leans in to softly kiss you. “You need anything?” He murmurs against your lips, pulling back to look at you. “No. No. Sit down and eat.” You order and he sits down. “It looks amazing.” Debra compliments your mom who beams, so happy to be spending the holidays with her grandchildren. “Thank you.” She smiles at Dieter who is happy to be sitting here. So different from that Thanksgiving so many years ago. You had moved to L.A with him after your mom encouraged you and after that, you had decided to try and repair your relationship. It was easy to fall in love again and now, you have two kids.

You have everything you wanted back then, finding some small success as an artist, but you really prefer spending time with your kids, and your husband when he is away on location. You bring the family now and the press is marveling over the change in Dieter Bravo’s behavior. “Happy Thanksgiving everyone.” You raise your glass of wine but you don’t take a sip, smiling at Dieter mischievously. “Next year we will need to set another place at the table.” You announce. “Baby Bravo number three will be coming to a nursery near you in April.”

Your mom’s eyes widen as much as Debra’s and she grins, “that’s - that’s incredible, baby!” She cries and tears fill her eyes. “Oh my loves. Another baby.” Debra coos and reaches out to caress Dieter’s cheek before she smiles at you. “I’m so happy you both came back together.” Your mom sighs, loving how you and Dieter have worked everything out.

It hasn’t been easy, there have been times when you’ve been angry at Dieter, but he’s sober, you attend couples counseling and he has become your rock. “Thanksgiving miracles, huh?”

Dieter nods, “our miracles.” He murmurs, reaching for your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. You all dig in to the food and soon the kids are in bed after everyone is full, the house is clean, and your moms are watching tv. “You ready for bed, babe?” You ask and Dieter glances at the clock. “It’s only eight.” He frowns until you raise your eyebrows and his eyes widen, “oh yeah. I’m tired. We are going upstairs. Wifey needs all the rest she can get.” Dieter teases and your moms say goodnight while Dieter takes your hand and guides you upstairs.

You snort playfully and reach around him to slap his ass. “You almost didn’t get the drift.” You tease him. “And I thought you always knew when someone wanted sex.” Dieter huffs at you. “I didn’t think you would want it tonight.” He whines, defending himself.

You chuckle, “you know how horny I get when I’m pregnant.” You remind him and Dieter snorts, “but you’ve had turkey and pie.” He defends himself again as you make your way to the room you used to live in when you first got married. He opens the door and closes it behind you, groaning as he surges forward to press his lips to yours.

The years apart and the life that Dieter had lived in LA had just given him new skills to use on you. While it wasn’t perfect, you have to take the good with the bad. The good is that you have Dieter completely. Your arms wind around him and pull him close as you moan softly.

His hands are gentle but firm as he slides his hands down to squeeze your ass, pulling you against him as he hardens in his sweats. “Fuck. I love you.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck as he guides you backwards to the bed.

“I love you too.” You promise, trusting that he will make you feel amazing. “How do you feel about another baby?” You ask as you fall back into the bed.

“Happy as fuck.” He admits, “we have money. We have a big enough house. We can have as many babies as you want.” He teases as you lower to the bed and he shifts to kneel between your legs, “and you’re so fucking beautiful full of our babies.”

You have discovered that Dieter has kinks surrounding having kids now. Breeding, pregnancy, lactation kinks all have made for some amazing nights. You love the confidence that it gives you when he works with some of the most beautiful people in the world. He’s now the one that is showing pictures of his kids to his co-stars and inviting them to meet you, rather than asking if they want to do a line of coke with him. “You just love proving you aren’t sterile.” You tease, reminding him of The Inquisitor article that claimed all your children were born via sperm donor.

He snorts, “all conceived on my cock, baby.” He declares smugly and he reaches for the hem of your shirt, dragging it over your head. “You are gorgeous, baby.” He murmurs as he bends down to kiss your stomach, not quite a bump yet.

You hum, running your fingers through his hair again like he loves. He’s always sweet and considerate while you are pregnant and this will be your last baby, so it’s a special time for both of you. “All yours.” You promise.

He’s gonna get the snip before you have the baby, just so this is your last baby, and it’s bittersweet but he is going to enjoy every moment. He hooks his fingers in your leggings, dragging them down your legs and he groans when the scent of your arousal hits his nose. You’re so sensitive when you’re pregnant and he loves it. “All mine. And I’m yours. All of me.” He promises as he tosses your leggings aside and surges down to press his nose against your clit through your panties.

“Deeee.” You moan softly, loving the devoted look on his face as he looks up towards you. “I know I have you baby.” You promise, smiling down at him. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” He murmurs and hooks his finger in your panties, leaning in to slide his tongue through your folds. He loves the tang of your arousal when you’re pregnant. You taste sweeter somehow and he groans, reaching for your thigh to push it further away so he can slide his tongue into your cunt.

Whimpering with Dieter’s tongue inside you is as natural as breathing. Closing your eyes and letting him eat you out because he wants to. He loves doing down on you and hearing his name break from your lips. “Fuck baby, I love you.” You pant. “Deee.”

He loves hearing you moan his name. He laps at you, wanting to show you how much he loves you through his tongue. One hand caresses your stomach and the other pushes your thigh back to spread you more so he can bury his face In your pussy.

He loves hearing you moan his name. He laps at you, wanting to show you how much he loves you through his tongue. One hand caresses your stomach and the other pushes your thigh back to spread you more so he can bury his face In your pussy.

You don’t have to worry about waking the kids up, they are used to sleeping through anything although it’s usually just dinner parties and the two of you having sex. “Fuck, Dieter.” You moan. “Want to cum all over that stupidly handsome face of yours.”

He chuckles into your folds, knowing he's getting wrinkly and despite his co-stars in Hollywood investing in plastic surgery, he is surprisingly not interested in preventing aging. He is happy to be old beside you. His tongue laps at your clit, wanting you to fall apart for him.

Your hormones make you sensitive and in no time you are crying out in pleasure. Gasping out his name as your thighs cinch down around his head and your body shakes in pleasure.

He groans when you squeeze his head between your thighs, his hand reaching for yours as he works you through it. His cock is aching and he grinds against the mattress while he works you through your orgasm.

Dieter doesn’t stop until you are gasping and pushing his head away from you, clit aching from his attention and he pulls away with a playful smack to his lips. “I need you inside me.” You beg, reaching down and pulling him up. “I need my husband.”

He groans, shifting to hover above you, and he lets you pull his shirt over his head. He pushes his sweatpants down and his hard cock bounces as he kicks them aside while you throw his shirt on the floor. “Like this?” He asks, caressing your side and when you nod, he shifts to kneel between your legs, “I love you.” He murmurs as he grips his cock and positions himself at your cunt to push inside you.

The stretch of him is something that you will always love. Moaning as he fills you with a smooth, steady thrust that doesn’t stop until he is buried to the hilt and both of you are breathless. “Fuck.” You whimper, caressing his back as you squeeze him tight. “Feels so good baby.”

Dieter groans as he twitches inside you. You’re so damn hot and wet around his cock. “Fuck, I love you.” He murmurs, leaning down to kiss your lips. “Marry me again.” He murmurs, keeping still inside you.

You’re surprised when he says that. You’ve talked about it before, several times. He had always said that you should renew your vows, but you’ve never really planned anything else. “You want that?”

He nods as he stays still above you. “I want to renew our vows. Either before or after you have the baby. Whenever you want. I want a proper wedding. We got married at the courthouse when we were so young and I want to give you the wedding you deserve. A dress and a cake and - and a party like no one has seen.”

You giggle quietly. “It will have to be after the baby is born then.” You huff, knowing that while he has the money to pull off a wedding in weeks, you would rather enjoy the entire event rather than feeling rushed. “We’ll sell the pictures to People.” You tease, reaching up and caressing his face. “I love you.”

He snorts, nudging his nose with yours, “this will be for us. Our friends and family.” He promises and starts to move inside you. “I love you. So damn much.” He murmurs, sliding his hand up to squeeze your breast, shifting his weight to one arm.

He keeps his pace slow and loving, wanting you to enjoy it and sometimes the harsher thrusts aren’t what you want. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you move with him. Enjoying the way he fills you and never leaves you empty for too long. Slow lovemaking. “I love you too.”

He loves how you wrap yourself around him and he keeps his weight off your stomach while he rocks into you. It’s slow and sweet and he kisses along your jaw while he murmurs how beautiful you are. He knows how to make you moan and he grinds into your cunt, shifting his hips until he finds the angle that makes you moan his name. “That’s it, baby.” He coos, his back starting to ache but he keeps moving.

You breathlessly moan for him, finding it so sexy how he keeps the pressure up just like you need it. You know that his back is hurting and yet he keeps rocking into you at the same angle. “So good baby.”

He keeps the pace and angle as he pushes into you, wanting to feel you fall apart beneath him. He groans your name, “baby. Baby. Cum for me.” He demands, pressing his lips to your jaw, his breath puffing against your skin.

You let go of him and reach between you, pinching your nipple and making yourself fall over the edge. Crying out softly, your cunt starts to spasm around his cock and soak it with your juices.

He groans against your jaw as you cum around him, clamping down on his cock and he hisses. “Fuck baby. Feel so goddamn good. I - shit - I love you.” He murmurs, rocking you through it.

You whimper, eyes closed and your fingers dig into his shoulder. “Cum for me.” You beg softly. “I want you to fill me up.”

He grunts in response, thrusting into you at a sloppier pace than before as he feels that tingling in the base of his spine. His lips press against yours as he buries himself deep after several thrusts, muffling his groan while he paints your walls with his cum.

Even when he’s exhausted and happily riding out his high, Dieter collapses to his side so he doesn’t press too much of his weight on you. More considerate than anyone would have ever believed the selfish bad boy of Hollywood could be. “I love you.” You whisper in his ear with a smile on your face. “Happy Thanksgiving, love.” Thanksgiving had been a heavy burden for you, a reminder of your husband leaving you for years until he had come back to you on that same holiday. Now, you both give thanks for being together and more in love than ever. You accomplished both of your dreams and now all of them you still work towards are ones you want to accomplish together.

[awordsmith]

where you came from 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you receive a letter detailing the death of your grandfather, head back to your hometown, and wonder if you ever should have left.

katcember

who? spencer reid x bau!reader when? s8 genre: angst to fluff (comfort) content warnings: proofed! not much sad angst (more sad angst if that makes any sense), death of a family member/funeral, reader's hometown is in Europe (purely for aesthetic), more plot than spencer (kind of idk) reid with warmth word count: 11.2k a/n: this was my one of my first ideas when first posting on tumblr so i really do hope you enjoy it! there are a few words not in english, but sometimes when writing in english it's easier to say something in another language because english can be really...corny sometimes...anyway ily cari !!

The loops and curves connecting the words in that elegant font you grew up learning stuck in the back of your mind like a non-removable tumor. You could feel it. You had a time limit–but not to live. Two days. In two days you would go back to Europe, back to a continent you had thought you’d left behind years ago, a place you had thought you held no attachment to… no emotion.

Maybe, though, it was the fact that you had been gone so long, had not once gone to visit in all your time in America, and now–now your time had run out–or rather, another, no longer invisible hourglass had lost the last of its sand and someone had flipped it again, setting a new timeline in motion.

Your grandpa, your beloved nonno*–oh how you just couldn’t believe it. 

It had hit you so suddenly, your mother normally sent you letters, you didn’t mind her old ways, she was raised by the man who taught you cursive and calligraphy–with craft you thought ancient, and technology was still rather new, and she wasn’t one to conform to change.

You sighed, shifting in your seat as Hotch and the rest of the team gave the profile. The lights were too bright; you stared at the floor, one leg crossed over the other, and your arms folded. You tried keeping your focus. Yes, you were dealing with your own problems, and yes, you had just gotten the letter yesterday, but these children needed you now–and if you couldn’t be at your best with a personal issue weighing on your shoulders, could you even call yourself an FBI agent?

Emily had just left the team a month ago and her replacement wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t Emily. You desperately needed your friend right now, your soul sister. She could tell you what to do and how to handle things like this, she’s been doing this a lot longer than you, has more experience–and she understood you, at least where family matters were concerned.

“You okay?” Spencer whispered as the officers went back to their desks or collected in groups–some even leaving–probably to talk about the best course of action. This guy was going to strike again, every indication of it was there on the board.

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling your stomach growl.

He furrowed his brows, “when’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhm,” you stood, rubbing your wrist, “I’m not sure, but I’m fine, really,” you gave him a tight smile walking over to the board, “We know he’s targeting school busses on their drop off, he’s insecure about something, his physical strength? That’s the only reason he’d subdue the bus driver in a blitz attack.”

Spencer called your name–almost as a whine–and you paused. “Look,” he said, “I don’t think the rest of the team’s noticed, so if you eat, I won’t say anything…”

You frowned, rubbing an eye, “fine.”

You’d think a look of triumph came over him, but you’d be wrong. He looked resigned, but not indifferent, it was more of a soft relief. Spencer had no idea what you were going through, you hadn’t told anyone–and you weren’t really planning on it. You liked to keep your personal life separate from work as much as possible, that’s one of the reasons you and Emily had clicked so well–you were nearly identical in that department, and, well, you both could agree Clyde was a little bit of an ass. You’d never worked directly with her during her Interpol days, but when she left, Clyde became your team lead, and–well, actually, that’s, pretty self-explanatory.

A few years in, you were able to transfer to the BAU, you’d performed considerably well and Clyde had recommended and vouched for you and–well, Emily knew Clyde, okay perhaps your connections helped a little, but was it really your connections or your skill because without your skill, you wouldn’t have been recommended now would you have?

Regardless, you had known how massive the opportunity was, which is why you’d said yes without a second thought. You joined the team two years ago, when Emily had shown no sign of leaving. You sighed, rubbing your hands together, they were sweaty and you felt sick, maybe you should try eating something.

“Alright,” you affirmed again, “come on you’re driving.”

You threw the keys that had been lying on the table next to the board at Spencer, he’d been close to Emily too, you assumed they still spoke sometimes when they got the chance as you did with her. Your mutual bond was probably–at least you considered it the most probable–reason for why you grew so close in such a short amount of time.

You were close in age, too, which you assumed added to the comfort.

Spencer took you to the closest fast food and you ate in the car devouring each bite. He asked for coffee and “real” sugar on the side, and then he sat there and watched you eat, and when you were finished he drove you back to the police station. 

The case took you to Santa Monica, California. Penelope had ushered you all into the room as soon as you’d got into the office this morning, honestly, you were expecting it, and with the hurriedness she had, you knew it couldn’t be anywhere near good–though you considered none of the cases you received “good”, this one involved children, and it seemed they were the prime target, but what you couldn’t figure out was why.

He didn’t kill all the children–in fact, in both cases, the unsub only killed three kids; it seemed as if he was targeting specific children, but they all came from relatively different backgrounds, and both schools–when considering the environment and looking at it from a geographical perspective–weren’t at all in near-to-similar neighborhoods. Even the two kids that were killed on the same bus had no connection, they weren’t friends, the witnesses said the boys stayed away from each other unintentionally, they just never seemed to cross paths and it just did not make sense.

You wanted–no needed–to figure this out, for the next potential victims–but the team had no clue as to which school he’d hit next. For this reason, Penelope was emailing schools at the masses to keep them on high alert.

“He’s targeting school buses,” you said, taking a sip of your water. “Not schools…” Spencer nodded and you asked, “Why?”

“Perhaps something happened to him on a school bus?”

“It’s important,” you agreed, “but wouldn’t that make him–like–fifteen?”

“No,” Spencer shook his head, “a fifteen-year-old wouldn’t have this much time, he’d have been caught by now.”

“The survivors say he wore a mask, he called the students by name–”

“But not their name–maybe he’s living in a delusion?” Spencer’s speaking sped up, “maybe he’s not fifteen but he’s reliving his teenage days. Maybe he was bullied and now he wants revenge?”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain going after high school kids now. Why not just go after the people his anger is directed toward?”

“Because he can’t? Maybe they’re substitutes?”

“We need to tell the others.”

Spencer nodded, you rushed out of the car and into the police station, catching Morgan, Hotch, and JJ leaning over a phone, talking to Penelope. You explained your theory and funnily enough, Penelope had just found school records that supported it. Each victim had been suspended within the past year, accused of bullying or inflicting some type of physical or mental pain on another student.

Complaints about the victims were filed by students, so now you knew your unsub had access to all this information, the question was what title did someone need in order to garner this details.

“That has to be how he’s choosing his victims,” Morgan said.

Hotch thought for a second, then nodded, “All alright, call Rossi and Blake, tell them to get here, Penelope, are you still on?”

“Running and ready, sir,” she confirmed, “All alright, give me a list of the next potential targets, all kids who have been suspended or complained about in the last year due to bullying, narrow the search to males, fifteen older.”

“Sir, do you want me to narrow the search between the two schools?”

“No,” Hotch sighed, looking each of you in your eyes, “I want the entire city–”

“Hotch–” 

Spencer’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but Hotch cut him off, “you really want to sit around waiting for another body?”

Everyone went silent and Spencer’s eyes flitted to you for a moment, almost as in reassurance.

“He’s right, Hotch,” you stepped forward, trying to push away all thoughts of what was to be expected of you in two days.

“You,” Hotch narrowed his eyes as if just now suspecting something was up with you. 

A silent staring contest ensued, though it was quickly broken when an officer burst into your makeshift bullpen. “Another body was discovered.” Your heart sunk and you glanced to Spencer for comfort, his eyes drifting to yours for the same thing.

It always just seemed a little bit more painful when children were involved. Your stomach lurched and you felt sick, wanting to throw up the food you’d just eaten. You just wanted this all to be over so you could focus on your family issues. It might have been selfish, but wasn’t that your right? You couldn’t think about this right now, you needed to find this guy before he murdered another innocent kid.

“Give Garcia the geographical point and have her narrow the search.”

Hotch directed at Spencer, turning to JJ, “Stay here, help him and Rossi figure out what career our unsub might have. Morgan go Blake to check out the new crime scene, and,” he turned to you, “Come with me.”

You turned to Spencer one last time, not wanting to leave him. You were always together, working together, that is. Hotch never split you up so you thought there must be a reason for it now, but why, well, you couldn’t know for certain. You shook your head and followed him out the door. He seemed to wait for you with pause, his expression unreadable, almost like he was analyzing you. You tilted your head in warning and he finally relented.

“Let’s go.”

From that point forward, there wasn’t really much of a struggle, it just sucked you had been called in so late, and that another kid had died before you caught the guy. Four kids in total, three crime scenes. The ride back on the jet was tense.

Everyone seemed to need their own space whenever you dealt with a case like this, you, well, you’d play with Spencer’s hair, if you were really tired, he’d let you lean against his shoulder or use his lap as a pillow and sleep. This time, though, you were restless and you couldn’t find the need to sleep anywhere. You knew you probably should,but…it was just too much.

You couldn’t stay seated, you paced back and forth, your mind fleeting from the case to the letter you’d received yesterday. You’d brought it with you and you hesitated only for a second before pulling it from your bag and sitting in one of the empty rows. You could feel eyes on you, though they were trying to pretend they weren’t looking.

You wanted to say you could see them, say you weren’t in need of monitoring, but you were the youngest on the team, and despite your closeness, with Emily particularly, they all cared for you, which is why when JJ slid into the seat across from you you resisted rolling your eyes.

“Are you okay? You’ve been kind of… not yourself.”

“I’m fine, JJ, thanks.” You returned your eyes to your mother’s letter.

“You sure?” she asked, “is it your mother? Has something happened?”

She motioned toward the letter. They’d gotten accustomed to seeing you read over the renaissance looking artifacts throughout the day. That wasn’t the unusual part, no JJ was talking about how you weren’t attached to Spencer’s hip, how you avoided them all almost the entire day, and how you had been so focused on the case as if you were trying to make something else dissappear.

“We’re all here for you, you know.” She reached her hand out, rubbing her thumb over it.

“Yeah,” Morgan motioned for JJ to scoot over, “we’re a family, you know.”

“Aww, I wish I was there,” Penelope said from the other side of Morgan’s phone. You wanted to scoff, but a sad smile pressed to your mouth instead. They were cornering you as if they’d planned it.

Your eyes flitter over toward Rossi and Hotch who were pretending not to listen and Blake, who was evidently really not, then they landed on Spencer’s who stood suddenly from his normal spot in the front of the jet and began walking toward you. “See, even pretty boy’s upset.”

“I am not upset,” Spencer scoffed, sliding into the seat next to you. But then he held your gaze as if trying to communicate with his eyes, “but we are here for you, you know I’m always here, and…I’m sure if you called, Emily would be too.”

You took a breath, and when it came out it was shuddering, and that was the first time crying had crossed your mind. So, you said–first in general, “My grandfather just passed, I’m supposed to leave in two days for his funeral.” You let them take it in, then, “I need time off, Hotch.”

A snort came from Rossi and the team frowned at him, but you smiled, why was he so unserious all the time? You rolled your eyes, but then Penelope spoke up from the phone in Morgan’s pocket, “if you need someone to go with you, I’d be willing.”

Your eyes swelled at her offer and you opened your mouth to say ‘Really?’ but Spencer said, “I’d go too–you know, if you wanted that is,” before you could open your mouth.

“Thank you,” you nodded, “I’d like that…and you know…it wouldn’t hurt if the rest of you came as well,” your admission scared you, what were you doing? This is the exactly the opposite response Emily would have given, but maybe you weren’t as strong as Emily, and maybe…maybe that was okay.

“When are we leaving again?” Rossi sighed, pulling out his phone, “I’ll have to check my schedule.” And with that you let loose a snort, appreciating the kindness of your team.

“Jack, Will, and Henry are welcome to come as well.” You said, “And that girlfriend of yours, Hotch,” you added, “I think I’d be able to brave my family again if I had the Guardians of the Galaxy with me.”

“What about Strauss?” JJ suddenly asked, “What are we gonna tell her?”

“Oh you let me worry about her,” Blake smiled, though you had been sure she wasn’t even listening.

“You’re from Europe right?”

You huffed a sigh, “Yes, Rossi, I’m sure we’re not cousins.”

A few chuckled as Rossi responded with a nod and a smug grin,  “Just checking.”

You claimed the window seat, forcing Spencer to sit in the middle, though you had to climb over him multiple times to use the bathroom, you didn’t care, and neither did he…much. You thought you’d be able to sleep, but just like on the jet, you found yourself restless, and Spencer, well, he couldn’t help but ask.

The first question was simple, “how do you feel about going home?”

You laughed, a bitter expression framing your face, “I don’t know.” You were lying, though he wasn’t sure if you knew that fact yourself as you seemed genuine. The only way he knew for sure your response wasn’t what your subconscious truly thought was was by the way your lips pressed together right before you spoke, that was your tell.

He didn't know if you knew you did it, but he’d caught on to it pretty quickly when you’d first met, it had been something small, but he remembered it as clearly as if it were playing out right now in front of him. It had to do with your favorite food. Morgan had said he’d overheard you talking to Emily about how you wanted a certain order from this new restaurant because it tasted like the one you had back home, and to surprise you, he had brought it in one day and set it on your desk, brimming with energy to see your reaction.

You were confused at first, but when you saw him, you’d grinned, prying to box open, then your eyebrows had shot up and he’d asked you if it was your favorite food. You’d pressed your lips together and nodded, grimacing with the first bite, “I love it, thank you.”

Later on, he’d smacked Morgan for the first time upside the head, running away quickly after, Morgan had chased him for some time until Hotch had told them to stop acting like, “idiots,” and thst, “Jack acthas better self control than you two most days.”

“Do you have any pets at home?” He asked, watching you stretch out your arms above your head, deflating against your seat.

You smiled, “I used to have a dog, but she died before I left for university.”

“I’m sorry,” he frowned.

“Don’t be, she wasn’t really mine, but my sister’s.”

He nodded, it was early morning, everyone had gotten up way before they’d wanted to, except him. He was ready to go a bit too early, and when he’d picked you up at your apartment, it seemed as if you hadn’t slept much either.

“Hey, Spencer?” You suddenly whispered.

“Yeah?” He stared down at you as you began to move, causing him to shift until his body aligned with yours and your back hit his chest.

“Do you want to hear a boring story?” He quirked a brow, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. To the normal eye, you seemed incredibly close, strangely close–a couple kind of close, but to the team and between the two of you, it was more like the relationship Penelope and Dereck had, although instead of heaty words, it was comforting gestures like this, that, and you were always attached at the hip, you were partners with each other before anyone else, work partners that is.

“What’s a boring story?” He asked and you didn’t know if he was trying to be poetic, but it brought a smile to your face.

“My grandfather,” you focussed your eyes on the window, finding warmth in being pressed against him, his arms acting as a blanket that wrapped around you. “He was old in age, I mean, I knew that even when I was a kid, but there were times,” you shook your head recalling the moments in your mind.

Spencer kept quiet, listening intently as he rubbed circles on the exposed inner corner of your elbow.

“He would take me on adventures and back then, he seemed so young, so exceptionally immortal. It was otherworldly,” your voice got quieter as you continued, “I don’t know how to face him,” you sighed–God it seemed like all you could do for the past 45 hours was sigh.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “tell me about the adventures.”

You paused, turning your head slightly to see him, you’d done this countless times, but for some reason, it seemed more pertinent now. More….significant, “my grandad,” you murmured, “he was my captain. That was the game. We’d go to the pier sometimes, or the forest, and he’d always have these elaborate scavenger hunts set up in advance. He really–” you blinked and breathed, “...he was really good at things like that.”

“Setting up games?” Spencer asked incredulously, but you knew it was good-natured, meant to bring the smile that had so evidently fallen off back to your face.

“At crafting and cultivating imagination.”

“Ah,” Spencer nodded, “yeah how did I miss that?”

You smacked is chest playfully.

“How do you feel about seeing your family, how long has it been?”

You gazed out the window again, there was low chatter around the plain, it was dark, the lights were off, and most people were asleep. You pondered briefly about why Spencer was still up and deigned to ask him when sunlight shone through the window, blinding you momentarily. It wasn’t a lot nor was it as bright as you were used to, and it was quickly hidden behind the clouds once more, but you smiled at it anyway.

“A new beginning,” you raised your hand, blocking the slight sunlight that filtered in now and then, not really sure what you meant.

Spencer chuckled, reaching out to grab your wris. He held it, waving it around as if you were casting a non-verbal spell.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he whispered, “but whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

“I know you will,” you replied as easily as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “You always are.”

And again, for a moment, you pondered why that was, why Spencer always seemed to be the only person–other than Emily–who was always there for you when you needed someone, why he was the only person you wanted there when things went wrong. 

It was a question that had bubbled up over the last month since Emily had left. You’d begun to lean on him a lot more, yes, but you could very well just have as easily called Emily. Spencer wasn’t lying, you knew she would pick up no matter what, but oddly, you found you didn't want to call her because–you already had the person you needed with you. And he would always be there, even if you stopped working together, Spencer would always be there.

You were sure you could call him in the middle of the night and he’d come running. But why would you want to? You shook the dangerous thought away. 

“It’s sunrise,” he said, pulling your attention back to the window. Slowly, he brought your hand to once again rest on your stomach.

“We still have about 5 hours,” you sighed, noting the time.

He leaned back, shifting in his seat, “Then we better get comfortable.”

You wondered what you’d do first when you landed, would you have so much jet lag you wouldn’t be able to see your family for some time? Would you be able to sleep? Finally? Where would your grandpa be? Probably at the funeral home. Would other family members be traveling into the city for the funeral? If they were they’d have to stay at the main house, there wewould be no other space available in the others.

You were only staying three days, and if Stauss called you in early, you’d have no choice, but to leave before that. You were able to solve one more case before you left, though you had still strained for sleep, everyone else seemed to be a little overly excited. Blake stayed to help other teams, she was new and you weren’t that close, though she didn’t seem to mind.

She was like Rossi in that department, unable to take days away from work as she ran on catching these guys. But for you, and everyone else on the team, you were sure, you couldn’t wait for your days off.

They were the closest thing you got to normalcy, that and time with Spencer outside of work, it was time in your world, one where bad guys didn’t exist, one where you could escape into the realities of a Charlotte Bontë novel, one your grandpa had gifted you before you could remember a life without it.

You wanted to thank Spencer, but you didn’t know how. You wanted to thank everyone, really, but Spencer most of all, and instead of thinking about why, of letting it plague your thoughts, you leaned further into him, rubbed your face into his soft sweater vest, and closed your eyes.

Penelope threw her head back as she grabbed her suitcase, “where to now?” Spencer pushed her sunhat out of the way. She was in for a rude awakening, it was winter in Europe, and though most people were on holiday, that only meant the airports would be extra lively.

“First, let’s make sure we have everyone.” You began counting of heads, narrowing your eyes, “where’s Hotch?”

“We’re here!” Jack came running, Hotch sprinting after him. It was not too odd a sight, for you to see Hotch in dad mode, he normally had that look on when Spencer did something stupid or Penelope said too much on speaker–but this, oh this was gold.

Rossi snapped a photo with an old camera he’d brought along, chuckling when Hotch glared at him. “Alright,” you nodded, noting Hotch’s girlfriend slowly filling the space beside him. “Now, my immediate family isn’t that big, but the rest of the family does live in the same town, so you’ve all been assigned housemates.”

“Housemates?” JJ raised a brow.

“I’ll,” you checked the time, “explain on the train, come on.”

You were honestly surprised everyone had come, you’d invited them because you truly had thought them being here would lessen the pain, but to think that they all wanted to be here for you as well, even Rossi had come–and he hated taking vacation time. Though, the most surprising had to be the fact that Blake had actually succeeded in getting Straus to let you all come.

You stayed together, it was easy for some, though others kept getting sidetracked. You stopped a few times to look at a few shops and monuments, though you kept explaining to Penelope she’d have more than enough time later to go on her mini explorations.

You supposed it was normal though, that was how you were your first time in America–your first time in any new country or state, really. Most everyone had never been to Europe, even for you it felt like stepping into a storybook. You hadn’t been home in so long, it was like a lost memory.

Though afternoon, the day was getting dark already, and people were milling about, readying for Christmas–your heart lurched, and though you tried not thinking about him too much, you couldn’t help but wonder if your grandfather had been alone during his passing, what were his last words? His last thoughts? Rainclouds not only drew to the sky but your mind as well.

You felt more than guilty, that was the only way you could describe the horrid emotion twisting in your gut ever since you’d received the letter. You hadn’t seen your parents–your sister–face to face in a long time. It was part of the guilt of moving to America without giving them a heads up and for leaving when you knew they wanted you to stay.

Your older sister had stayed, why couldn’t you have? There really was no explanation other than you just couldn’t. It felt small, suffocating. You loved your hometown, but eventually, you knew there had to be something more out there, something more calling your name, and the longer you stayed, the more you buried that feeling, the less motivated to do anything you got.

So, you saved up during your uni days and took the first position in America you’d found, which is how you ended up at Interpol, climbing the ranks slowly but surely and eventually working with Clyde.

You reached the train station, the cool weather making everything around you a tint of blue. The benches that sat in front of the train tracks were taken up by Jack, Henry, and Will, who’d been carrying a ton of baby supplies. You paused, checked your watch again, nodded, and turned your face toward everyone again, “Alright people, here’s the plan. My family knows you're coming, one of the reasons they were okay with it is because we own a few properties and can house you all, hence your housemates, or if you prefer, hosts.” You glanced at JJ, “You, Will, and Henry will be staying with my sister and her husband. She has two kids so she’s used to the noise.”

You had thought about letting Hotch stay with your sister, but that would have just been too weird. No, instead you’d paired Hotch up with one of your cousins, who was married, but had no kids. Jack was older, no longer in diapers, and had a controlled temper, so it seemed perfect.

You relayed this information and moved on, “Penelope and Morgan, you’re staying with my aunt and uncle on my dad’s side, trust me, you’ll be thanking me–and Rossi, you’re with my aunt an uncle on my mom’s side Is that everyone then?” You looked around, nodding.

“Hang on,” Rossi held up a hand, “I don’t like the way you said that last part.”

“That’s everyone then?” You ignored him, “All alright, the train should be here–” You cut off your sentence as the train pulled into the station, “...right on time.”

 Waiting your turn to step onto the train as people made their way off, you felt around in your pocket for the letter one last time, sighing in relief when you it was still there. You grabbed your suitcase and began pulling it aboard the train when Spencer grabbed your arm and held you back. You glanced at everyone else boarding the train, making sure you had time before turning back, “Uhm,” he frowned, looking awkward, “where am I staying?”

“Hmm?” Your eyebrows furrowed and you looked at your watch again, “with me and my parents.” You said it so simply, as if it were an afterthought–as if it was so incredibly obvious that you didn’t think you had to mention it.

“Oh,” he didn’t know how to feel, he was a little embarrassed, but there was something else…sick? He didn’t know, but it made him bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.

“Come on,” you latched your hand onto his wrist and yanked him onto the train, “before it leaves without us.”

You honestly wanted to go straight to your parent's house, but you knew you had to introduce your co-workers/friends to your family so when you left it wasn’t so weird, though the only one who complained was Rossi, you couldn’t blame him, but at the same time you found it funny. He swore up and down you had put him in this position on purpose and he didn’t find it funny–“Not one bit,” he’d said right before you left him in his room. “I’ll get you back for this,” he’d warned.

Once you’d left JJ, Will, and Henry at your sisters–she hadn’t been home, thank God, as you didn’t think you could face her just yet–you and Spencer hailed a cab and had all but drifted off to sleep during the ride to your childhood home. Your mom had been the firstborn, so she’d gotten the main house, though your grandparents never left. They had kind acted as your second parents growing up and you were incredibly close, especially you and your grandfather…and now he was gone. You bit the inner corner of your cheek, feeling like you wanted to cry but just couldn’t find the comfort to do so.

Spencer noticed, of course, that you were leaning on him, and had been the entire cab ride. When the it came to a stop in front of a large, three-story Victorian house, he hesitated before shaking you awake. He wouldn’t have done it if he knew what to do, but this wasn’t his house and this was the first time he was going to meet your parents, though it excited him, he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why.

You were like–his platonic soulmate, nothing had ever happened between you two and just because you were going to be sleeping in the same house, probably a few feet apart, didn’t mean anything was going to start now. Morgan slept at Penelope’s all the time and though Spencer always suspected they were more, nothing had ever happened, which meant it was possible for a guy and a girl to just be friends–and yet, here is was, palms sweating, mind running, mouth drying as he walked up the trail leading to the front door of your parent’s house.

A knock, and hushed whispers, and then the door opened, your mother standing in the doorway with a bright smile on her face. She called your name and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. You wondered if your grandpa was at the funeral home still, if he was cold, which was a stupid thought, he couldn’t feel anything, he was gone, no longer here roaming the earth, telling his outdated jokes and taking you on secret journey’s, and you were no longer that little girl who laughed at his outdated jokes and believed in the magic of his secret journeys.

When you pulled away your mother, with her now thinning, grayed hair pulled into a tight ponytail and the wrinkles lining her frail face–said, “Oh, let me get a look at you.” 

She took a step back and that’s when your father came into view, “Dad,” you smiled, the feeling almost overwhelming.

He pulled you into another hug, and just when you didn’t know if you could handle seeing one more relative you hadn’t seen in ages, your grandmother shouted from somewhere on the first floor, “Is that her? Is she here?”

Your heart seized itself and you took a step back, unknowingly stepping into Spencer’s personal space. You turned to apologize, but your grandmother had already wobbled in on her two dainty legs, as quickly as she could have if in her prime. Her old crone eyes narrowed, “nice of you to grace us with your presence.” She sprinkled salt on the floor as she glowered.

“Mom,” your mother groaned.

“What?” She crossed her arms and turned her head as if she had things better to do than welcome the granddaughter–who’d left everything behind–back into her life.

“It’s fine, Mom,” you reassured as your father went to close the door behind you’d walked in, Spencer gled to your back.

Your grandmother stomped out of the room in old lady fashion. “How are you dear? Have you been getting my letters?”

You cringed, “Yes,” though you never sent one back, you did always text a message, thanking your mom for writing you, she’d only heart it, though, which left you wondering if maybe you should’ve picked up a pen and paper. “I keep them all secure in a drawer.”

She nodded, a placid smile falling to her lips, “Well, you must be tired and–” she glanced at you, then at Spencer, then at your father and held his gaze for a moment before returning her eyes to you, “who’s your…”

“Oh, this is Spencer,” you patted his chest as if that was explanation enough.

Your mother nodded, not really sure how to take it, she turned to Spencer, hoping he’d offer a little more information, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer stared at her hand, contemplating and you were just about to say something about it when he reached out and shook it. Slack-jawed, you eyed him suspiciously, turning away in a huff. When you’d first met him, he’d refused to shake your hand, sure he had come a long way since then, but it still annoyed you for some reason.

“Come, let me show you your rooms.”

Your mother led you up the starcase than faded into a small stairwell, leading up to the second floor. The wood was old mahogany, though you weren’t paying much attention to it. At the end of the left hall was another staircase that led to the third floor, but even half awake you knew it was probably locked. It always had been. 

You recognized the wallpaper, a deep, forest green and you half wondered if the wallpaper in your bedroom had changed, if it had been converted into a guest bedroom. Your mother gave Spencer the guest room down the hall. You waved goonight to him before heading into your room. He paused his eyes taking in your childhood home.

It was so incredibly different from his, but it also felt…small. You were this giant, bubble of energy and a quiet town in Europe just dind’t seem to add up to your personality. He sighed and pulled open the door, you weren’t a few steps away like he had hoped, but you were close enough. He stopped himself–this was completely bizarre, even for him. This was more up–well, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t up his alley.

Tired, you’d turned in for the night, though your eyes caught on all the things you’d left behind, you told yourself you’d look at it in the morning. You were glad everyone was here supporting you, you were especially glad to have Spencer–were glad he came, but then of course he came, that was just the kind of person he was.

You turned off the lamp on the bedside table, burying your face in the sheets, finding yourself still unable to cry, but whispering, “You would have liked him a lot, nonno*.” Which was madness, firstly, why did it matter if you grandfather would have liked Spencer or not. Secondly, your grandfather was gone, and the whole reason you were here was because of that fact. Maybe you just couldn’t accept it yet and that’s why you were thinking all these weird thoughts, why you couldn't cry.

You sighed, shutting your eyes, hoping you wouldn’t dream; to face tomorrow, you would just need sleep. Sleep and a lot of quiet.

You cracked open one eye, light trickling in through the curtains though it wasn’t bright. You left your door ajar as you headed toward the bathroom. There was soft chatter on the first floor, and you were sure your grandmother and parents were awake. The faint aroma of coffee wafted through the air and you wondered if Spencer was up too.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out as he stepped out of the bathroom just as you went to open the door. His hair was wet and he was wearing a white collared shirt under a brown sweater vest. He smiled when he saw you, though your eyes were drawn to the water dripping down his forehead. He was holding a towel, you assumed to try and dry it, though it looked if he hadn’t had much success.

“Morning.” You murmured.

“Good morning,” he echoed, stepping out of the way. “You’re parents said I could,” he motioned behind him, pressing his lips together when you raised a brow. He nodded, “hurry? I am kind of nervous.”

You snorted and shook your head, “sure thing, piccolo*.”

You shut the bathroom door behind you, feeling an airy sensation float through your body as you began pulling your clothes off.

Half an hour later, you found Spencer in his room still trying to dry his hair. “You should just let it air dry.” You voiced, tucking a lock of your own wet hair behind your ear.

He looked up when you opened the door, sighing, and setting the hand towel to the side. His hair was nearly dry, though he was trying to get the wet bits in the back. 

You huffed, climbing on the bed and sitting behind him on your knees, “let me see it.” You began massaging the now-damp towel into his hair, trying to use the little dry parts it still had left. He chuckled, jerking his head slightly when the towel rubbed a sensitive spot. You smirked, “that tickle?”

He huffed another laugh, “stop,” he called your name in warning, “I’m serious.”

You laughed, running the towel teasingly up and down his neck. He jerked and eventually jumped up, pushing you backward on accident. He launched a tickle attack, fingers jabbing at your sides, your neck, under your arms, and when you thought he couldn’t get any worse, he sought your feet, your sockless feet.

“Okay!” You snorted, “Okay, you win!”

“What?” He asked, staring down at you with triumph.

“Oh, don’t be an ass.” 

He grinned playfully, but relented, “Alright, come on, your parents probably want to see you.”

You huffed a sigh and threw your head back, the pillows coming to its rescue as you let your hands come to rest on your stomach, “do we have to?” His grin eased into a gentle smile and you gave in, jumping up, “Yeah, fine.” 

You headed downstairs, passing picture frames from past relatives. There were so many ancient trinkets that your generations had left behind, Spencer said it was like walking through time, and it honestly was. Not just because the house was built in the middle 1800s, but because everything from the wallpaper to the furniture, and right down to the people still living in it–had that reminiscent aura about them.

“Nice of you to join us.” Your grandmother said as you walked in, “And who’s this, a boyfriend?”

Your mother sent hers a warning glare before turning back to you, “good morning, please sit,” she motioned toward the breakfast table.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Spencer said taking the seat beside you, “again.”

Your mother laughed and waved a hand, “There is no need for formalities, but I do want to thank you for coming.” She glanced at you momentarily, but you avoided her eyes. You knew you would eventually have to speak to everyone again, but you weren’t ready for that yet.

“So, how long have you been dating my daughter?” Your father asked. You would have choked on the tea had you drunk any prior. Your eyes widened instead and you turned to Spencer apologetically, but he didn’t seem at all fazed, “we’re just friends.”

His smile seemed content, but your grandmother scoffed. You turned to her, almost already fed up with the little attitude that’d been present since your arrival. You knew she had always preferred the company of your sister, and she detested you for leaving without a word–not to her, but to your grandfather.

You frowned, wanting to ask about it, but you couldn’t find words that would bring the least amount of sadness to the room. 

“Are you going out today?” Your father changed the subject, turning toward Spencer. He seemed to catch on to the fact that you were uncomfortable, so he directed all his questions at your beloved pretty boy.

Spencer answered them with ease–to which you knew you’d be in debt. An hour went by and Penelope was blowing up the team group chat, asking when you were meeting up. Eventually, you knew you’d have to take her around town and to be honest, you could use a little distraction from the looming presence of being around the rest of your family when they got in this afternoon.

“When will you be back?” Your mother asked

“Not sure,” you replied, more clipped than you meant for it to be.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on her,” Spencer reassured, trying to ease the tension.

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” your grandmother poked her head out of nowhere.

You shot her a glare and said, “Is this your way of seeing me off?”

Shocked by your reply, she tutted and jerked her head away, with closed eyes and crossed arms. You rolled your eyes, whispering, “see you later,” in the softest voice you could manage.

“That was…”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around yourself, “tell me about it.”

“So…your grandmother…”

“She hates me because I left, deep down they all do.” You frowned, but no tears came, they seemed to evade you.

Spencer pressed his lips together, normally he had the perfect response for anything you said, but you never spoke about your family. You were always sure to draw a boundary, you were very much like Emily in that sense, or at least he thought so.

You took a cab to the pier, agreeing to meet at the beach seemed simple. There were a few people, mostly locals though, your hometown wasn’t a place tourists normally visited. The main reason this town was able to survive was because a lot of the residents were wealthy, and that wealth stayed in the family and–well, the families stayed here.

“Woah,” Penelope yelped at the fourth store you stopped in, “we have to look around,” she said, eye-widening. Jack and Henry were milling about together, looking at little trinkets. You recognized the shop, it was an antique toy store–your grandfather had bought all your gifts over the years from this one in particular, some were secondhand, but they were sentimental to you and you had taken a few with you when you’d moved to America. 

“Babygirl, calm down.” Morgan laughed, following her down an aisle.

“How’s everyone settling in?” You asked, turning to Rossi when he huffed and muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” You leaned in, grinning.

Spencer pulled you back just as Rossi glared and called you a sadist. “We’re doing fine, your sister is nice.” JJ smiled, “she was asking about you,” she paused, waiting to see if it was an alright topic of conversation. When she realized you were waiting patiently for her to continue, she did, “she said she was sorry for not being home when you dropped us off. She wanted to catch up.”

You took a breath, your cheeks seemingly hot in the cold weather. “I know it’s not my place,” Will started, catching your eyes, “...but I…I think you should talk to her…”

You frowned at him, contemplating, then you nodded, sigh slipping past your lips, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Oh!” Penelope shouted, “Gelato, my phone says there’s a gelato place right around the corner!” 

You noticed Morgan walking up behind her when a laugh–though it sounded more like a croak–rang through your ears. “Your phone would be correct,” an old woman rounded the counter, short as could be. Her eyes bounced from face to face, settling on yours, “I told your old wench of a grandmother you’d come back. Were it for anything it’d be for him.” She sighed, “Come here, let me have a spin, my God how long has it been?”

You wanted to say eight years, but you neglected that subject and instead focussed your memory on figuring out who this woman was. 

“Hmm,” she hummed after a moment, taking a step back, her arms so incredibly bony they looked as if they might snap with the slightest pressure. Her pallor was somewhat tanned, and there were a few black spots up and down her exposed skin.

“You’re nonna’s old classmate.” It clicked, she was always stopping by the house in your earlier days, and she’d sometimes sit on the wraparound porch, sipping wine with your grandmother.

“Did you forget me already capretta*?” She chuckled as if she’d made a joke.

The rest of your group had deemed the conversation not there’s to listen in on, so they’d taken to wandering around the shop, the only one who stayed–partially because he wanted to and partially because you’d grabbed his wrist when he had tried walking away–was Spencer.

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” you murmured, “you shouldn’t call me that.”

“Oh, you’ll always be capretta* to me, you and all the others.” She smiled, her beady eyes watching you for a moment, as if expecting you to do something brash. Eventually, she said, “his funeral is tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah,” saying it brought out a wave of pain. Your mouth felt heavy and your stomach dropped to your feet.

She nodded, “have you decided what you’re going to say?”

You shook your head, “I won’t be speaking.”

She paused, disappointment flashing across her face, “well, I’m sorry to hear that.” You pressed your lips together and began turning away, ready to get out of this uncomfortable situation, but she wasn’t finished, “you know, I’m sure he’s happy you’re here.”

Spencer watched you close your eyes, take a deep, shuddering breath, and open them carefully. He watched them gloss over and without thinking about it, snaked a hand behind your back, as if holding you to this earth would help you in some way, unbeknownst to him, it did. His touch grounded you, and you thought, another debt to be owed.

“You’re amante*,” she said right before you walked back outside.

“He’s not my–” you waved your hands but your your words faltered as she shook a cloth at you, a knowing smile adorning her face.

“Maybe not yet, capretta*.”

You sighed, yanking Spencer outside. “What did she say?” He asked as if he couldn’t use damned context clues.

“Nothing,” you responded, but Rossi raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands when you shot him a look, your eyes flashing in warning. 

The other’s finally joined you outside and you spent a few more hours acting as a tour guide. When you deemed it time to go home, you told everyone to be ready in formal attire around 8, the rest of your family would be coming in, staying at the main house as it was the last place that still had room, and a small party would ensue. Everyone only came together for weddings and funerals so they tended to make the most of it.

You weren’t really looking forward to seeing the rest of your cousins, hell you could barely face your immediate family, extended seemed a little too much too soon.

You thought about hiding up in your room, you hadn't had much time to take it in yet and you thought it might help.

Relatives started arriving around 7:30. Spencer had wandered down to your room and knocked, though you could hear the hesitation in it. “Come in,” you said, sitting up.

He walked through, shutting the door softly behind him. “So this is where I find all your secrets.” He chirped, an easy smile settling on his face as joined you on the bed, leaning back. “It’s pink,” he noted.

“Hey,” you said, “the wallpaper came with the room.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes catching on a few blankets stacked neatly on a shelf linear your bed, “are those your baby blankets?”

“No,” you laid back down, the lamp at your side dimming slightly. “I think I stole those from my sister.”

He smiled, “I wonder what it’s like to have a sibling.”

You smiled, recalling all the idiotic fights you’d get into, how your parents would send you two to your room until you, “learned to love each other”. “She’s older by a few years,” your voice carried through the silent room, though it was lively on the first floor. You suddenly remembered you had a third, but you couldn’t recall a single memory of you being allowed there as is had always been locked.

“Do you want to talk about her?” He asked after a while.

You debated, on one hand, it might be good practice for when you spoke to her, on the other hand, what would you even say? You had no idea how she’d been these past eight years, what her life was like. What could you say and so you said, “ask me about her.”

He hummed for a moment, falling on, “why’d you steal the blankets?”

Your lips pressed together and you tried piecing together an accurate depiction of the event. “Well, she’d got them on a trip with our grandmother. My grandfather and I had been on an adventure, I think we were in the forest, I can’t remember,” you sat up and pushed yourself off the bed, walking over to the dresser and bending down to the shelf that held the blankets.

Spencer sat up, letting his eyes follow you, he felt warm, not anxious. Though his mind was working slowly, he found he didn’t mind. You seemed to calm everything down for him, it was a sense of comfort he hadn’t known he’d needed until you came into his life, and his headaches from before had slowly ceased the closer the two of you got.

“This one,” you held up, “was originally hers.” You brought it to him as he pushed himself to the edge of the bed, his feet sprawled around you. You didn’t think twice before stepping in between him, but you had never done that before and it caught him off guard. You had never been in such proximity when you were both wide awake, and you certainly had never faced each other like this.

Nevertheless, he didn’t mind–in fact, he was finding it increasingly obvious that he preferred you to be as close to him as possible. He ran a hand over the smooth ruffles of the white blanket. It was pleaded with light pink embroidery. “You should give it to your daughter.” He heard himself say, though his throat went dry right after. 

“You think so?” You found yourself wanting to be closer to him–as if I’m not close enough, you scolded yourself.

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, and gosh–it looked like he wanted you, and gosh–you felt your heartbeat speed up.

Your body moved on its own, stepping forward, loving the way his legs close together to entrap you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dropping the blanket down beside him. You lifted your knees onto either side of his waist and sat in his lap, his arms snaking around your hips. “Hi,” you murmured, a nervous–almost hesitant–expression falling over your features.

His eyes flitted between your lips and your eyes, but he managed to force out a, “hi.”

You bit your lip and it drew his gaze instantly, you could feel his heart palpitate in his chest, almost as fast as yours. His eye fluttered close and his head fell back when you ran your hands through his hair. You didn’t know what you were doing, you told yourself multiple times, unsure of why this was happening–now of all times, oh your sweet nonno! Forgive me, you pleaded.

You angled your head forward, ready to do the one thing you’d knew your subconscious had been wanting for God knew how long, but then a knock sounded on the door and Spencer’s eyes opened once again.

“Who–” you cleared your throat, “who is it?”

“Uhm,” a nervous chuckle came from the other side of the door, “it..it’s me.” Your sister. You cursed, glanced at Spencer, then with an apologetic look, unraveled yourself from his embrace.

You walked toward the door, trying to fix your nettled clothing in the process. You took a breath and paused, then opened the door. Your sister stood there, tall, lean, and elegant, as you remembered her to be. “Hi,” she smiled, tilting her head.

You smiled back, trying your best to not give away what had just been going on–what the actual hell was just going on? You wanted to contemplate it more, wanted to ask yourself what the hell you thought you were doing–but refrained from doing so in the moment.

“Can…can I come in?”

You tensed, your eyes darting behind you and Spencer stood, throwing you an understanding glance. Your sister took a step back as he left the room, eyes following him as he disappeared somewhere down the hall. You swallowed and shifted out of the doorway, “come in.”

She raised an eyebrow but kept quiet upon you lifting a hand. 

“How have you been?” She asked once you shut the door. 

You thought about your answer, settling for, “good,” because you had been good, you had been very good, up until you got that letter.

“That’s good,” she responded, looking around the room, smiling, “you know, mom kept it just the way you had it when you left.”

You nodded, yes, you had noticed that, but you weren’t sure how you felt about it just yet.

“What’s this?” She walked toward your bed, where Spencer had been not a minute ago. She picked up the dainty blanket and sat down, steering clear of the part that had been undoubltey rumpled by Spencer. “Oh,” she said as if just recalling, “it’s the blanket I gave you.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together, you distinctly remember you stealing it from your room and hiding it when she had come asking if you’d seen it.

She laughed, apparently recalling the same thing, “I knew you had it back then,” which came as a surprise to you. She bit back a smile as she began folding it again, “nonna told me to let you keep it.”

Your eyes widened slightly, “did she?”

“Yep,” your sister popped the ‘p’.

“Hmm,” you hummed.

“What?” She asked, setting the blanket aside.

“She’s become batty.”

Your sister’s eyebrows rose, “how do you mean?”

“She’s been nothing but brutal to me,” you frowned, crossing your arms.

Your sister’s eye crinkled like she was about to laugh, “wow,” she said instead, “you’ve been gone so long you must have forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?” You scoffed.

“That’s how she’s always been,” your sister shook her head, mumbling your name and something else incoherent before turning to look back up at you, “I hope you visit again, that this isn’t some one off thing.”

You pulled away, your walls instantly going back up and your sister sighed, clearly noting the mask of an expression. “You always did that when you were a kid, you know.”

“Did what?” You furrowed your brows.

“Fold into yourself,” she waved her hands, “I don’t know how else to explain it.” She huffed, “you know, we really miss you, everyone. My kids,” she started, tears thrreatening to break loose, “you nieces and nephews–they don’t even know you.”

You looked down and for a second you weren’t sure what she was talking about, but then you remembered that yes–you were a zia*, your sister had children, three of them, and you hadn’t met them once.

Guilt wrapped itself around you like a veil, “I’m sorry,” you heard yourself saying, your face contorting as if you wanted to cry, wanted to express how remorseful you felt, but didn’t know how to.

“You’re just like her,” she threw her head back as a few tears ran down her cheek, “I think that’s why you were closer to Nonno*. You and Nonna* are too alike, you’re both so damn stubborn.” She huffed a laugh and for a moment, a sliver of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

“I think love my best friend,” you found yourself admitting, maybe it was your way of trying to reach out, to tell your sister you were still you.

“That guy that was just here?” She grinned at you, “yeah, the family has been talking about it, Nonna* said to expect a wedding within the next year.”

Your face fell, embarrassment taking over, “what? Why? That old bat!” You scoffed, standing, “I can’t believe her, I’ve only been here–what? Two days? If that? That crazy old woman,” you marched toward the door, “Well?” You called to your sister, “are you going to back me up or what?”

She stared at you for a moment and then slowly, but surely, an calm smile crept onto her face, but her eyes were ones of storybook villains,“yeah, sure.”

The day started gloomy, though when you met Spencer in the hall, it became just a little less than that. You weren’t feeling like yourself, though you weren’t actually sure what self you were referring to. 

JJ had messaged the group chat that she’d be late because Henry had an accident right before they set off to leave. You thought about messaging your sister, but it felt weird, you weren’t used to initiating conversation with your family, so you didn’t, although you did plan to speak before the funeral.

You wore simple black attire, as did everyone else and you caught yourself holding onto Spencer’s hand tighter than usual, almost as if he’d leave you too, and you couldn’t have that. Your heart studded in your chest once you saw the coffin, it was closed, of course. It had been open for the hearing, but that had occured before you’d landed.

You couldn’t move forward. You told the others to go on and after making sure you were okay, they did, “but you’re not allowed to go,” you’d whispered, almost to yourself.

Spencer had squeezed your hand, whispering back, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your family gathered around the casket and the sacerdote* stepped forward, reading off a few of the retellings your grandmother had no doubt written down with the help of your parents. You noted a few other, non-related spectators, probably friends.

A few of his favorite songs were played and then your mother said a few words, followed by your grandmother, and finally your sister. “Are you okay?” Spencer pulled you closer by your arm.

You pressed your lips together, watching the coffin being lowered into the grave. “I don’t know…” and when you swallowed, you found your throat dry and for the first time since the letter, you not only found yourself wanting to cry, you found it was almost within reach.

The ceremony ended and relatives began dropping dirt into the grave, you thought to say one last prayer before leaving, but you didn’t want anyone to see you. You turned to Spencer and let go of his hand, “I just…” you turned away, pressing your lips together as you eyed the fresh grave.

He smiled sadly, but he nodded; he always seemed to be able to understand you no matter how silent or how loud you were. Maybe that’s why you loved him, you couldn’t be sure. There were so many things you loved about him–gosh you loved him. The revelation was like a wish from a birthday candle being answered.

You stepped away and Spencer watched as you pushed through the crowd. Hotch and the others surrounded him, questioning stares ever-present. “We should give her some time,” he said after seeing you hesitate, then sit near the makeshift headstone.

“What’s she doing?” Penelope frowned, watching you shift in your spot on the wet grass.

“Saying goodbye,” Spencer was the only one to respond–he was also the last one to retreat.

You didn’t know how to begin, you hadn’t spoken to him in eight years. You were scared that he was angry at you, but then again, you knew that couldn’t be the case, yes you knew he was gone, but what if his spirit was still here? What if he couldn’t move on because he had unfinished business and it was your fault?

You stopped yourself, since when did you believe in superstition? That was your parents…and Rossi; not you.

You sighed, running your hand through the grass, deciding to start as if he were still there, trying not to sound too guilty.

Nonno, you began, I–I’m sorry, you shook your head, I know, I know I should have visited. I know– a single tear fell down your cheek and you paused to wipe it away, shocked by your own emotions. “Forgive me,” you whispered.

“You sound like a crazy person,” you jerked your head to the side, eyes landing on your grandmother.

You huffed, eyes narrowing as you sniffled and wiped another tear that had fallen. “You’re one to talk.”

Your grandmother shifted, as if uncomfortable, and then she moved forward, more brittle than you had noticed the first time. “I’m not going to sit down,” she said after a moment, “don’t let my looks full you, I’m not how I once was.” She grunted as she stood beside you.

“Yeah, well, your looks aren’t fooling anyone, so.”

“Ouch,” she laughed, but it sounded like a wenches cackle. “Oh nipotina*,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head, a complacent smile making its way onto her wrinkled face.

You sat in silence, comfortable or not, you were glad she had stopped talking, you didn’t know what to say to her. In your opinion, you had never really gotten along with your grandmother, this wasn’t reconnecting with your parents or sisters or even your zia* and zio*, this was…new territory altogether.

You frowned, “listen, child,” and you did, you perked up, you could listen to her talk, that would be easy, you just hoped she didn't expect a response. “Your grandfather loved you, he never stopped talking about you.” You smiled, but then it faltered. You had abandoned him, hadn’t even deigned to visit because of how guilty you’d felt…

“He knew,” you whispered, heart racing. 

You heard your grandmother sigh. “I thought as much,” she frowned, staring at her husband's grave as if she could bring him back by will alone. 

“You did?” You hadn’t left without saying goodbye, not to him at least, that was one thing everyone had gotten wrong, your grandmother knowing had never occurred to you because you were sure your grandfather kept it a secret. Why else would the entire family have blown up when they’d realized you had left? When they’d realized it was too late to stop or convince you otherwise–because by the time everyone else had found out, you were halfway across the North Atlantic already.

“I always thought it was strange how he never said anything about it.” A grim smile tugged her at her red-painted lips.

“Nonna*, did I make the right decision?” You asked, surprising even yourself.

She sighed and you thought she might say ‘I can’t tell you if it was right or wrong’ or something a normal grandmother would say, but your grandmother wasn’t normal, she was an old bat, probably the same one you’d turn into at her age and she said, “You’re damned right you were wrong.”

Your mouth dropped, taken aback, and then you burst into laughter, throwing your head back as you tried wiping your tears, “oh you’re such an old bat,” you sighed.

“I knew you always called me that behind my back,” she harumphed, jerking her head away and crossing her arms like a child.

“Oh come now, Nonna*,” you stood and reached out the touch her shoulder.

She huffed and dropped her arms, eyes darting around your face in what seemed to be concern. “You were wrong for not telling the rest of us, you had your parents worried sick, and your sister too.” Her frown deepened, “even me.”

You nodded, “I know, but nonna*,” you sighed, wanting to explain yourself, but she held up a hand. You raised a brow, almost saying huh, so that’s where I get it from, out loud.

“Your grandfather always said you were meant for something greater, that your heart wouldn’t allow you to stay in this town the way ours allowed the rest of us.

“No, no nipotina*, you were not wrong for leaving. This town, this family? Yes, you come from here, but there,” she nodded her head toward your co-workers, (or friends, you were honestly still deciding), “with them, that is where you belong now.”

You smiled, finding acceptance in her answer.

“And your friend,” she rolled her eyes when she said it, “well, I expect the wedding to be here.”

You huffed a laugh before turning, catching Specner’s eye, and when he waved your heart swelled. “We’ll see,” you started walking away.

Your grandmother trailed after you, throwing her hands up and shouting, “incovalato*! You insolent child!”

a/n: ahhh i can't wait to write my next fic because i already know waht it is. i don't want to give spoilers, but just know you're going to see dad!spencer !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[wileys-russo]

ok hear me out. mapi x ingrid x reader where reader gets a little minor injury. maybe a tweak in a knee or ankle. cue ingrid who is stubborn and doesn’t let you lift a finger (even tho you feel fine) and then there’s mapi who lets you get away with more than you should if you promise a few extra kisses

bed bound II m.león & i.engen

the very minute that your knee tweaked and you went down at training with a cry of pain, your entire body locked up and flooded with fear that it had happened again, those dreaded three letters which had almost ruined your career.

your girlfriends were the first by your side dropping down and fussing over you as you pushed them away, burying your head in your hands as the phsyio's arrived, gently ushering away the two girls who hovered anxiously nearby with the rest of the team.

"you are done for the day chica." mateo, a man you were far too close with given he'd been by your side your entire recovery, smiled apologetically as you gave in with a nod and a sigh.

at mateo's own nod his way jonatan was quick to call the girls back to training, mateo helping you to your feet as you assured you felt okay to walk and the pain was just a sudden shock.

"go! i'm okay." you mouthed to your two lovers who were still hesitantly hovering a few feet away, shooing them off as you carefully followed after mateo inside the training centre.

you were rushed off discreetly for a scan, alexia accompanying you and doing her best to take your mind off wandering to the worst possibility. having to take some time off for her own injuries she was the best possible person to have around you because she understood.

gratefully a few hours later and your results came back clear, it had only been a tweak.

but dismissed from training with the team to take the upmost caution for the next few days you found yourself back in the gym with alexia working on your own programs just like all those months ago.

the fact it was only a tweak however was not apparent to your girlfriends, who insisted on treating you like you were made from glass, banishing you to bed rest as if you'd broken your leg.

"ingrid i am fine!" you groaned loudly, smacking away the taller girls hands as she attempted to tuck you in. "you need to rest! please." the brunette sent you a firm look as you huffed but allowed her to continue.

"stop the pouting cari." mapi chuckled from the end of the bed, watching with crossed arms and an amused smile as ingrid fussed around you. "no! this is stupid. i wasn't told i needed bed rest by medical professionals, so why are you doing this?" you whined, head pushing back into the pillow with another groan.

"because elskling we love you and we care about you very very much." the brunette smiled, bending down and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, smoothing your hair out of your face and pecking your lips a few times.

"well can you care less then? pretty please?" you smiled sarcastically, ingrid flicking your ear with a roll of her eyes and stealing one last kiss. "no. i have to go to the store but maría will be here so call her if you need anything! stay in bed and rest your knee, i mean it." your girlfriend warned seriously, you now the one to roll your eyes.

"baby?" "yes! okay fine." "thank you, i'll be back in a little bit and you're in charge love."

"hey! i am older and she is injured, why is she in charge?" mapi scoffed in disbelief, hands on her hips and eyes narrowed. "because you might be older but you are a child maría." ingrid smiled, pulling her into a searing kiss and cutting off her protests.

"but what if there is a fire? she is supposed to stay in bed." your girlfriend still challenged, the interaction admittedly bettering your mood a little.

"so if there is a fire you're going to just leave me in bed?" you now spoke up with a raised eyebrow. "no! that is not what i meant." mapi pouted, eyebrows knitted into a frown.

"she's still in charge and you, stay in bed!" ingrid pointed firmly between the two of you before grabbing her bag, her footsteps echoing through the hallway before the door closed and she was gone.

"movie?" you asked the blonde defender hopefully, if you were bound to bed the least you wanted was some company. "i have a meeting in five minutes mi amor, lo siento." mapi smiled apologetically as you groaned.

"not only am i being forced to stay in bed but now i am alone!" you glared up at her as she took a seat on the edge of the mattress. "i am also hungry." you huffed, your girlfriend running a hand through your hair with an amused smile.

"i shouldn't be more than an hour bebita. then i am all yours!" mapi promised as you sighed dramatically. "i will have wasted away by then." you flopped back into bed with your arms covering your face.

"if only i had two functioning arms to cook with…" you sighed again. "oh wait! i have four functioning limbs but just two overprotective girlfriends." you gasped sarcastically, earning yourself a light slap to the chest.

"cari we just-" "please." "no you heard ingrid you have to-"

"baby please. please, please, please, please, please-" you grabbed at her top and tugged her mouth down to meet yours, kissing her repeatedly in between each word.

"okay!" mapi eventually gave in with a groan, glancing at the time on her watch and realising her meeting started in one minute and it would take a lot longer than that to continue arguing back and forth with you.

"you owe me a lot more of these.” your girlfriend warned seriously, stealing one last kiss before standing up from the bed as you swung yourself out of the covers.

"-and we do not tell ingrid." mapi warned as you both agreed on that with a nod, the blonde giving you a once over look as you stood up, reassuring her with a smile and a little shake of your leg that you were okay.

and at that she rushed off toward the office and you made your way into the kitchen.

you took awhile to decide what you were in the mood for, never having been great at being decisive you rifled mindlessly through the fridge.

finally making a decision you gathered the neccesary ingredients and started to prep sitting down at the island to do most of it, hearing your girlfriends worries ring through at the back of your mind. though your knee did feel fine, you of all people also didn't want to risk anything unnecessarily.

you must have taken longer to make a choice on what to cook than you thought because midway through you felt a pair of arms wrap around your torso and a chin rest on your shoulder.

"hola princessa." you settled into her hold with a sigh of contentment, offering up a spoon of the vegetables you were sauteing toward her which she happily accepted. "perfect. just like you!" a sweet kiss to your cheek had a smile curling into your features as the defender clung on tightly, swaying the two of you lightly as she often would.

"so how many more ads do you need to make with google for that silly phone? or have they decided to actually hire a qualified marketing specialist." you teased, knowing full well just how much your girlfriend often struggled with thinking up what to do, the groan against your back enough to answer the question for you.

"five this month." mapi sighed, pressing a few kisses beneath your ear and pressing her face into your neck. "i don't know why you don't talk to your agent about it maría, you don't even use the phone besides the ads!" you laughed, your girlfriend having an iPhone she used day to day for most things.

"don't you maría me. i can’t stop ingrid but i thought i at least had you on my side princesa." her fingers gripped your hips in warning though her tone was playful and you jolted a little as her teeth nipped suddenly at your neck.

you withheld a moan and tried your best to stay focused on the two pans of food in front of you, not helped by the fact that the tattooed spaniard sucked, bit and nipped mark after mark into your neck.

"careful, don't burn your food bebita." she rasped teasingly into your ear, kissing gently over the fresh love bites as you felt her smirk into your neck.

~

"i am back loves!" you looked up hearing the front door open and close a couple of hours later, your fingers tangled in blonde hair as your girlfriend lay draped across you.

seconds later and ingrid appeared, smiling happily seeing you still in bed and face softening seeing mapi dead asleep beside you. "hola mi corazón." the brunette greeted you in spanish, bending down and meeting you in a gentle kiss.

"did you get what you needed amor?" you questioned with a raised eyebrow as the midfielder hummed and slid into bed with you, mapi stirring and exhaling deeply but otherwise remaining fast asleep and tightly attached to you.

"hey you promised that you would not watch ahead without me!“ ingrid realized the show you were watching and gasped at the betrayal. "you left me crippled, lonely and bored in bed for a few hours i needed something to occupy myself." you smiled as she rolled her eyes but mumbled something in norweigen, too fast for you to fully understand.

"so, you were in bed the whole time then?" "yes baby, just like you told me to."

"mm so what did maría cook you for lunch?" her hands tangled in your hair as your head dropped to rest on her shoulder, mapi remaining sound asleep, lulled by the rising and falling of your chest beneath her head.

"why?" you laughed curiously, a little taken aback by the question. "well amor because it looks like you had escalivada exactly the way your mama makes it, which maría does not know how to make. because you refuse to show her as you know it gets under her skin!" your body locked up at that, eyes widening a little.

"nothing to say elskling? normally you always have something to say." your girlfriends fingers found your chin, tilting your head up to meet her gaze as you opened and closed your mouth wordlessly. "mm that is what i thought." ingrid chuckled darkly.

"and these-" you hissed as her fingers moved to press gently into the sensitive hickies on your neck. "-i don't think you're being honest with me. and you know how i feel about lying." she smiled though her eyes told you all you needed to know.

"okay, but baby there is just one thing you need to know." "mm and what is that love?"

"you left me in charge, no? but it was all maría’s idea."

[pomegranate-pen]

Daym sis !! It took you this long to finally do your reqs ? Better late than never ig, ok but fr tho I’m glad you’ve decided to do your reqs for lackadaisy. Cause I was starting to worry !! So I’m glad your ok <33

Anyways, may I req a Rocky Rickaby x rich (closer to a billionaire) Fem! or gn! reader headcannons? Who is kinda polar opposite to Rocky? They’re kind, social, friendly yet calm, reserved, secretive and kinda mysterious because of their status? And it’s not like they got this money from some distant cousin, they had to work hard.

I can also see them spoiling Rocky in little, subtle ways. Like when his violin is broken from his rumrunning, the reader gifts him with a new one, and despite having no note to specify who exactly gave it to him, he can probably guess who it is. Can this also be like a friends to lovers kind of thing? That’d be cool.

Btw u dont have to do this if u dont wanna, or u can do this later, No pressure ! Make sure to take care of yourself, take breaks and have a wonderful day !!!

Rocky Rickaby x rich!gn!Reader headcanons

A/n: what?? Pomegranate pen actually keeping her promise and releasing something at a weekend?? That's impossible!!! Nsjwjwjwjw anyway, hi dear anon!! Tysm for requesting, I will admit, this was very fun to write,especially since I really missed writing for lackadaisy these few days. Thanks for requesting!! I hope you enjoy this!!

-----

Maintaining a bountiful fortune costs your time, soul and trust and in the world where greed overtakes all morals people have, you always need to be careful on whom you let see your weakness, whom you let see your heart.

So safe to say, you weren’t so keen on trusting a place so deeply rumoured as the lackadaisy speakeasy, let alone become a sponsor of it.

Or at least, that was the case before you met the infamous bootlegger of the place, Rocky Rickaby when he suddenly crashed face first with your car in a farmer's field late in the night. You truly thought he was dead at that moment, you were certain you just accidentally killed someone late into the night because the exhaustion of your soul-consuming meetings finally caught up to you. but then as you got out of the car, as you tried to reevaluate the situation and tried to find any sort of farm or shelter that you could ask help from, a sudden groan of pain gets your attention. The grey cat looks at you with the wooziest eyes and the silliest of grins.

One of his hands shakily goes up to point at you. “…has the nightingale sent her prettiest angel to take me away?” His voice was anything but coherent. “…why I must be quite the lucky…poet..”

As relief washes over you to the fact that he’s breathing, at the very least, you notice a nasty wound opening up on his head, a bit of blood ready to gush out of it. then you notice the box of what seems to be bottles of moonshine that spilled with him as he was running away.

 Before you could think of anything else- you hear grunts, gunshots and yells from across the fields, and in that moment of flight or fight, you grab onto the concerningly lanky cat and drive away.

Through all your yells to yourself about literally taking an injured stranger into your car and running away, you also realized why you felt such an urge. Your brain has seemed to connect the dots.whoever this guy was, it was obvious his job was the unsavoury kind, a bootlegger. An occupation you remember having a long time ago, a job you remember being your worst. Perhaps,you’ve felt sympathy for the guy and decided to save him before things got deadly.

Nevertheless, with an abundance of self-deprecation and worry for what will be the outcome of your quick and on-pressure decision, you took him to your house.

Maids and servants alike gasped in horror when they saw their boss caryying a man who looks like he took a deep swim in the mud, blood trickling down his blue suit and staining your own clothing. You quickly ask for their aid and bring him to the fireplace, let the maids patch him up while you get a proper change of clothes and soothing tea as well.

 The servants urge you to go to bed, to be rest assured that when the mysterious lanky cat wakes up they’ll be there to explain everything to him. Yet, you could not let anyone face the burdens of your silly and perhaps bad decision (though some of your employees commented that you could be deemed heroic in a certain lens. “some might even say a tad romantic!” a certain person with a known interest for romance novels added. You dismissed it all.)

You decided to stay the night sitting by the arm-chair next to the couch he laid on, awaiting his clarity while taking a small nap yourself. With a grunt and roll of their eyes,some from amusement and others from worry, they brought a blanket and a pillow and left you be. Next to the lanky, drifted asleep and bad-shape cat that was covered in bandages.

You were expecting at least a decent night’s sleep, since there’d be no way he’d be able to wake up quickly after the day he’s been through.his body would definitely take its time in recovery. What you hadn’t expected, was hearing rustling and shifts in the night, ones you dismissed as servants just shifted around to finish up the last of their tasks, but then hearing creaks, stumbles and the sound of something clunking and shattering on the ground before finally, a creak of a window opening. That is when your eyes immediately opened, and you were met with the cat who was hit with your car tangled up in his own bandages trying to make an escape. You both froze for a moment. Him, being midway out with his escape, his hand still latched on the window, and you, still in your armchair with a frazzled expression.

 “uh…sorry about that….” His eyes trail to the ground.”statue?...” he gives a nervous grin while pointing at the shattered artifact.he then looks up and gives a nervous chuckle. “and the torn drapes.” He then looks around again and winces. “annnnd the shattered vase.”

 After that failed attempt to escape seemed futile, you brought him back in and briefly explained the situation. Rocky told you his side of the story- though, with a few skipped parts and avoiding to get into details about what specifically failed so spectacularly in his task to retrieve some booze.

You talk for a little while, giving some small brief summaries about who you are and what you do, and gleefully answering some silly questions Rocky had about your status. You found yourself enjoying your talk with Rocky, talking to someone who's so incredibly lively. You've been around soulless businessmen for so long that you almost forgot what it’s like to actually speak to a person, to forget about status and money, to not read between the lines of every sentence someone utters. You finally felt like yourself for a moment, like something about Rocky’s eccentricities and unhinged nature has rejuvenated your soul.

 Yet, as Rocky looks back at the clock, he quickly gets up to leave, needing to go back to his work before anyone assumes he’s dead. You tried to convince him to stay a while longer, to sleep for the night so he can heal up. yet he didn’t falter. He quickly put on his coat and hat, looking at you with a charming smile. He tilts his hat, giving a small bow before graciously saying goodbye.

What he hadn’t noticed, was that your eyes trailed his clothing for a moment and noticed something intriguing. Something that could hint at where he truly works at. A small pin, in the shape of a club.

  After that, a few weeks have passed by before you decide to finally visit. Your main reason was to just make sure he’s  okay and that his injury has finally healed up. yet a part of you knew that you were also deeply curious about him, and had felt the urge to know more about his life. Perhaps, he’ll rise the ranks like you did. Or maybe just like old co-workers of yours at the bootlegging game, he’ll get himself into deep trouble.

Nonetheless, you visited the Lackadaisy speakeasy. The place you heard a cacophony of rumours and chats about, yet never visited it yourself. The empty mine with dark lights engulfed in the room left a lot to be desired. something was missing, something crucial that was holding the whole place up together. The very few guests that were there however, were noneother than the wife of Atlas May and…

  “…Wick Sable?!”

Wick chokes on his drink, tail frizzing up in distress as his ears perk up and take a note of the familiarity of that voice. He coughs out the drink he was meaning to enjoy (even if it’s taste wasn’t really in the highest of tiers in terms of ‘enjoyable’), looking at you with a stressed smile. “ah…L/n..what an unexpected surprise.”

Depending on your relationship with Wick, this interaction could go in three ways. If you're good friends, he’d have to suffer a bit with both your teasing and Mitzi's about not telling you about his frequent trips here. If you're mere acquaintances, then though he’d have to suffer only  Mitzi's teasing about him being so secretive about his visits, he’d still be forced to explain his relationship with the place to you over a few drinks. If you’re known to be rivals or enemies, well, not only would he be utterly displeased by the idea of you finding his go-to bar, but what would irk him more would be how Mitzi will try to make you a regular patron around here. often shutting up any sort of jab or retort Wick has to your musings and letting you have control over the conversation.

 As you start getting accustomed to the ambiance of the mine and the piercing galre of the bartender, the man of the hour-well, your hour, at least, comes in. this time with his suit only a tiny bit ruined by dirt and tears, but still not as bad as his awful state when you first found him.

His eyes beam when he sees you, and he immediately starts flirting with lines of poetry and song while he shoves the cart of illicit beverages he found into a small orange cat;s hands and takes the abandoned violin that was on the bar counter to strum up a tune.

Everyone expected him to be flat out rejected, to be ignored and maybe even weird out the new patron. But low and behold, the new patron merely giggled and smiled, matching his playful energy and cheeky jokes.

Safe to say, everyone’s jaw was dropped, while Rocky himself was beaming with joy and pride.

After that, you’ve become a regular at the speakeasy.often visiting the place to mainly speak with Rocky and develop a nice friendship with him. 

Your conversations with him were always insightful, since he was the very clear opposite of you. While you were known in society for your calm demeanour in different matters (often preferring to panic in the inside rather than out.), Rocky was known to be loud and spontaneous. No one knew how on earth you two got along so well, but you somehow did. He was able to bring charm and joy to a conversation, something that you desperately missed from your old life. While you were able to become the reasonable one in the relationship, often convincing Rocky to avoid causing some disastrous chaos that would’ve left the speakeasy in shambles.

Rocky’s clumsiness and acts of chaos has left him with more injuries and broken things than he can count. It’s something that you took note of immediately, and whenever you’d see his clothes, your heart would often ache for him. But you knew Rocky. You knew he wouldn’t accept something you bought with your own money, that though he’d act grateful, he’d somehow make some gleeful excuse to try to avoid taking it. And so, you’ve decided with the help of a few delivery boys to send these gifts to him anonymously instead. 

Now, though in everyone else’s eyes, Rocky doesn’t look changed at all, the keen observer would notice his new and clean clothes, and his violin of fine-quality and craftsmanship.

You’d often rant about your job with Rocky. Especially when you had had enough drinks in your system to forget the poised and strong demeanour you must uphold. Ever since you reached the top of the board, you’ve become a fish out of water. You cannot relate nor have any sort of fun with the people you’re often forced to speak with. Especially since the people in question are known to be incredibly judgemental and gossip-obsessed.Rocky would always hear your whines and try to cheer you up with a song, or maybe a funny story he can tell about another dangerous and concerning adventure he had for the day. Since he noticed how you always smile when he rambles on and on, and though you often give him a concerned glance, you never stop listening to him with a smile.

Another way you try to help Rocky is by helping the speakeasy itself, since you know how much it means to him. You sponsor the place and try to help Mitzi when she’s in any sort of financial difficulty, and you try to strum up some business by making your clients and fellow businessmen have meetings in the speakeasy.

This has created a sort of conundrum for the guests you bring. Because unknown to their own knowledge, they're often the same people you rant about all the time to Rocky. And so, Rocky always has the urge to somehow scare and intimidate them with his insanity. He treats them just as he treats Wick, sometimes even worse. He jabs, he nudges and he pretty much freaks them out when you’re too distracted talking about the business at hand to even notice his actions. And the worst part is, whenever you do look up, Rocky immediately stops his actions and gives you a charmed smile and innocent wink. As if he’s been as innocent as an angel the entire time. 

After a while, it didn’t take long for your maids to realize that Rocky wasn’t just some simple friend to you, but in fact, someone you’re into. And they made this theory of theirs become known to you when they suddenly start asking for details about your day at the speakeasy, specifically your hangouts with Rocky. You try to deny it at first, but you couldn’t help but admit that something about Rocky was different from others. To you, your friendship with Rocky was an entirely new and incredible experience, an experience that you cherish deeply, and…you wouldn’t mind for it to become something more.

So,you start initiating the flirtations, ones that Rocky immediately answers back with equal amounts of enthusiasm. Slowly but surely, your hangouts have become dates, and your rants have become more personal.

soon enough, and in the other’s point of view, shockingly so, you two have become a couple. An incredibly cheesy one at that.

 For a moment, everyone thought perhaps this was a sugar baby type of situation. That was until they all wondered what on earth could their lackluster bootlegger and not-half-bad violinist Rocky Rickaby offer in the sugar baby aspect of it all? they all came out with an utterly empty answer. However, though the relationship was far from such a thing, it doesn’t mean you don’t like showering Rocky with gifts all the time. Especially since you firmly believe he deserves at least some sort of nice luxury in his life. You’d often try to do the same old trick of anonymously gifting them, but he has caught you once in the act, and with a bountiful amount of kisses has convinced you to drop the whole act.

Rocky may at first be in somewhat of a denial for such attention. Though he will gawk, be giddy and awe-struck about the amount of gifts he is receiving, a part of him would also somehow feel guilty for it. like he doesn’t deserve such nice things in life. it’s a guilt that you quickly scold him for, and as punishment by even more gifts for him than before.

Though you are of high-status, both you and Rocky still prefer dates in the dark streets of Mississippi rather than any luxurious restaurant. You once tried to go to one  of course, but the night has ended with the kitchen going on fire and Rocky somehow freeing all the lobsters from their tanks. Nevertheless, it was still a great night, one where you couldn’t help but laugh in pure freedom because you felt all the societal pressure in your shoulders wash away. It didn't matter who the guests were in that restaurant, it was of no importance what they whispered about you or your partner whom you wouldn’t trade for the world. All that mattered was you and Rocky, dancing under the stars as rain started to pour.

Teasing Wick has become a mutual activity for you two. An activity Mitzi even joins in from time to time. Lord knows how many jabs Wick has to put up with whenever you both are at the speakeasy at the same time (which unfortunately for him, is quite the common occurrence.) it’s gotten to the point where whenever he sees you two together he gives out an exhausted sigh and asks Viktor to give him a stronger drink.

There are times where Rocky wonders if he’s worth it. times where the stink eyes and glances of high society get in his head a bit and he wonders if he’s truly worth all the reputational risk you’re putting yourself through. Those are the times where you must quickly go against such negative thoughts, to grab his hands and tell him firmly that he’s worth more than anything to you. though it never truly diminishes his insecurity in the matter, it does help lower it down.

You’re absolutely horrified and livid when you realize he’s living in his car. It’s something your heart breaks at and you quickly urge him to just come live with you instead. You have plenty of room to spare and would absolutely adore having him around. It’s an offer you wouldn’t let him say no to, no matter how hard he tried. You even offer to buy a house for him, if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of living with you. He quickly denies having such a thought, and in the end, he moves into your mansion.

Some maids are weirded out by him while others are a bit fearful. But they quickly learn to accommodate him, especially since he’s always bringing you into a better and happier mood. Hell, you even renovated one of the rooms to be his own workshop of sorts where he can write his poems. He never really uses it, preferring to work on his ideas with you beside him instead, but he does put some sizable amount of things in there. things he has definitely brought from his cluttered car.

Even though everyone had their fair share of surprised reactions when they finally found out you were dating, it was Aunt Nina who was the most shocked of all. she never believed Rocky could find a normal partner..let alone one that’s known for their wealth and successful businesses such as yourself. She even once wondered if Rocky has used some sort of devil witchcraft to steal your heart.

There are often times where both of you tend to falter, tend to become incredibly silent after a conversation that went wrong. You both have so many secrets you can’t share, so many thoughts and feelings that are hard to describe, let alone explain where they came from.Rocky admires you, he truly does. Because he knows you’ve worked hard for your status in the world, and that it’s normal for wealthy people to have secrets of their own. You are the same, you respect him, and know that his life wasn’t the most simple nor easiest. Yet both of you cannot help but sometimes get frustrated by the other for keeping important things a secret. You more than him, you will admit. You can’t help it. You don't want him to be in danger. But knowing how strange and unhinged his luck is, you’re certain he’s bound to get into deep trouble if he doesn’t find someone to help him. And that’s when you ask him, why can’t that someone be you? Why can’t he rely on you when he needs it? You’re not a simple person, you have more than enough resources and money to protect both you and him from any problems.

and that is when he asks why can’t you be more open to him,yet ask him for such an act? He knows very little about your family life, and there are times you skip a few stories and relationships you had with certain people you rant about. He has noticed, he just never spoke about it.and then, a chilling silence takes over the room. And you both need time to collect your thoughts before you talk.

In the end, you both reach out for each other at the same time and talk things out, and though you both know talking about each other’s past will take a lot of time and trust, you’re willing to wait for it, and will never forget that you’re by each other’s side for when you’re in need of help.

Though you both are an unexpected match for sure, that doesn’t falter the endless love and admiration you have for each other.

[pascalispretty]

I Call It Walking

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1817

Tags: pining, unrequited love, dark implications, stalking

Summary: It feels like fate that you find his letters. But sometimes, fate needs a little nudge.

A/N: Hoo boy, this one was a struggle, so please be gentle! Written for @jolapeno's Dear-Uary challenge, I'm sorry it's so late. Thank you to @misscharlielulu, @penvisions and @notjustjavierpena for looking this over for me 💙title from 'An Unhealthy Obsession' by the Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra. Inspired by that song and the 1993 movie 'The Crush' (ao3).

Dearest,

I have been thinking about you all day. This film shoot has been going on for so long, and I feel like I have hardly seen you. Still, you looked beautiful. You always do. It’s one of the many reasons why I sit here alone with my pen instead of telling you how I feel in person. One kind smile from you and I would hardly know what to say – the pen and paper are far less intimidating, and far more forgiving.

               Long shoots on location are more difficult than I anticipated, I suppose. It’s beautiful here – exactly what I imagined when I was writing the script – but I feel like I barely see you. It’s been hard, being stuck in my hotel room working on rewrites when I want to be out exploring the island with you.

Indeed, I should be working on the love scene right now, instead of writing about my own love life. My feelings for you give me so much to tap into; it will make it hard to watch when they get around to filming it. I’m not sure I will be able to watch Alicia telling Cary why they can never be together. It will remind me too much of reality.

I will take the coward’s way out, again. Nick tells me that I should just tell you myself, but I could never say any of this to you. I couldn’t bear no longer having you in my life. And so I will roll this paper up and throw it out to sea in a bottle, like all the others.

Mournfully,

J

You smooth the letter out again, the paper stiff and crinkled from where water had seeped into the bottle. The ink is still clear. His words are still clear. His handwriting is careful—neater than you expected, given the barely legible scrawl he leaves in the margins of the scripts.

He put time into this. Effort.

All for a letter he tossed into the sea, as if he never wanted anyone to read it.

But you had. Of all the people on the island, you had found it. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Fate was funny like that. Selective. Deliberate.

You trace the loop at the end of his J, your fingertip lingering there. It had been past midnight when you’d come home from the beach, and you don’t know how long you’ve sat here for, contemplating the letter in front of you. You should go to bed—makeup wants your ass in the chair by five-thirty sharp, and you have a long day of filming ahead.

Instead, you start from the beginning and read it again.

Dearest Javi,

I don’t quite know where to begin. God, I still remember the first day we met. You looked so handsome in your orange shirt, so happy to be on set. I was so intimidated to meet you before I saw you. I read the script and thought you must be some kind of half-mad genius, intimidating and exacting.

It was no wonder, really, not when the script came with annotations referencing films I’d never heard of from sixty years ago. It was worth the effort it took to track them down though; you have impeccable taste in film. I’m not ashamed to tell you that I wept like a child when Aunt Lucy came to the door at the end of Paddington 2.

And then I met you, and you were so kind and warm. You weren’t intimidating at all, though it was clear you were the genius I thought you were as soon as I read the first page of the script.

Even a letter you never intended to be read is like poetry.

I should apologise, I guess, for fishing the bottle out. I was in one of the hammocks, reading, when you came down to the beach. I wondered what on earth you were doing, wading into the water with your pants rolled up around your knees!

After you threw the bottle into the sea, I got curious. I know, I know, curiosity killed the cat. I swam in and got it – you really should have thrown it further if you didn’t want anyone to read it – and got your letter.

I couldn’t believe what I was reading – I never expected you to feel the same way about me as I do you. You’re brilliant, and I’m just some nobody they cast because Helena dropped out. But one of us has to make the first move, so – I really like you, Javi. I think you’re handsome and funny and the most talented writer in a generation.

I’ve written my number on the back. I really hope you’ll call.

All my love,

Your Alicia

You wait.

You wait and wait and wait. Every time your phone chirps, your pulse leaps – only to crash again. Spam call. Group chat. Pervy costar from your last TV show. Never him.

It’s only when the director snaps at you to turn the fucking thing off and leave it off set that you realise he might not call you.  

At first, you tell yourself that he’s busy. You’re busy too – there’s only a short time left before the cast and crew will be packing up to move to the other side of the island to carry on shooting, and he’s spending a lot of time working on rewrites of the final scene.

You don’t envy him that. From what you heard, the studio execs and the producers are arguing over the ending, crows picking over the bones of the script. The studio wants a happy ending, something sugary sweet for the audience to sigh dreamily over. You can’t imagine this movie having a happy ending, not when the way Javi wrote it is so perfect.

With everything that’s going on, you don’t get the chance to observe him closer, to see whether he got your letter and is simply ignoring you. You know that Javi wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t just ignore something so heartfelt without acknowledging it at all.

When you do see him, he’s usually got a notepad or laptop in hand. More often than not, he has Gabriella with him, hovering over him as he writes. You’re not entirely sure why Gabriella’s here, accompanying him like a second shadow to set and to dinners and to the beach.

With no sign that he’s received it by the time production has moved across the island and settled into the new digs, you resign yourself to it having gone missing. It could have gone astray in the post, or been lost in the move, or taken by someone else.

And so you find something else to send to him.  

Dear Javi,

You’ll have to forgive the postcard, it was all I could find on short notice. You haven’t been on set much, but I hope you’re okay. It’s been strange, moving to a new part of the island; half of my costumes seem to be missing in transit. It made me wonder if my letter had gotten lost in transit too?

Hoping to hear from you soon,

xxxx

Sweetheart,

Another location, another stunning beach I barely get to visit. It makes me miss all of our talks up by the cliffs. It was the best cure for writer’s block. I’ve started taking walks by the beach whenever I get an hour or two to myself, but it isn’t really the same. The rewrites are finished, at least. When you come back from settling affairs back home, we’ll have to celebrate.

I’m not sure I could have gotten them finished on time without your support. It was so good of you to answer my calls, even when it was the middle of the night for you back home. Remind you to give you a pay rise soon. It’s the least I can do, really.

Love, Javi

The second letter hits you like a truck. Your breath catches in your throat, and your fingers tremble where they grip the paper. It had clearly been intended for someone else, some other woman. It only takes you a few days of careful observation to realise it was likely meant for Gabriella.

It’s hard not to keep noticing her once you’ve started. She’s always clinging to Javi; laughing with him over lunch or leaning over him as he scribbles notes on the script. She’s a constant, looming presence.

She had also clearly stolen your letters.

It hurt when he’d never responded to the first, though you put that down to some postal mishap, the chaos of the entire crew moving to the new location. But when you get a chance to ask him if he’d gotten your postcard, he just looks at you blankly.

You make him smile easily enough after that little mishap, crack a joke about ‘You’ve Got Mail’ that makes him laugh and gets the two of you talking about 90s rom-coms until Gabriella, predictably, escorts him away. She looks him over with concern, as though you might have done something to him, as they walk away.

It stings. You can make him laugh so easily. You could be so good for him.

But Gabriella won’t let you. She clings to him like a second shadow, always there to stop anyone else getting too familiar with him. You don’t miss the looks of pity she shoots at you when you’re not looking, the condescension making your jaw clench.

The grand, tragic scene plays like a dream. You’re up on the cliffs, the waves crashing below you, the wind in your hair. By the time you’re done, you can hear crewmembers sniffling, see the makeup girl blink away a tear.

Most importantly of all, Javi is beaming at you from behind the monitor. You want to bask in the glow of his smiles like a cat curled up in a patch of sunlight. He starts to get up out of his chair, to come over to you.

But then Gabriella rests a hand on his shoulder, whispers something in his ear. And he turns away from you.

The island you’re filming on is quiet. Safe. The cast and crew all like going for wanders along the coast. It’s peaceful, walking along the pale golden sand and listening to the waves. The beach is hemmed in on one side by dense, green foliage, where exotic, colourful birds come to roost in the day.

Now, though, the only thing in the trees is you.

The trees rustle softly, shifting in the evening breeze. Somewhere behind you, a bird takes flight. But Gabriella doesn’t hear a thing.

She just keeps walking. Oblivious.

You curl your fingers around the branch in front of you, steadying yourself. The bark is rough beneath your palm.

You take a step forward. She still doesn’t hear you.

You take another.

[manyminded]

I can’t stop thinking about shadow milk x physically disabled!reader. is this just because I, myself, am disabled? yes. but still. (Warning the writing below will be very wired to my experiences and mine only!! Sorry to my fellow disabled shadow milk lovers!!!)

~~~

just…imagine.

there’s an ache in your gut. a pain, deep in your psyche - something is fundamentally wrong with your body. you want to cry. you’ve run out of tears. every breath leaves you heaving, every step sending a shooting hurt through you. it feels like you’re just constantly sick or ill, having to take on the world with what is essential the flu 24/7.

shadow milk doesn’t understand, at first. survival of the fittest ruled in his time. why are you so tired? in so much pain? you haven’t done anything crazy.

it’s hard to explain. “it’s just how my body is,” you say, “the doctors never figured it out. I accepted it a long time ago.”

but there’s something about being there. about seeing the effects with your own…two? eyes, and the understanding that comes by being forced to help.

it’s…difficult. worse for you, certainly, but that doesn’t erase the learning curve. after spending thousands of years stuck in a cycle of torment and being the tormenter, it’s hard to heal.

but he manages. he’ll jump out of the shadows, letting you lean on him. he’ll even cary you, if you can’t keep walking. it’s almost become second nature to take you home in an emergency. (plus, scary dog privileges. doctors are much more willing to listen when you have an ancient beast with you.) he’s there when your symptoms get worse, both in public and in private. he’ll get anyone off your back if they’re harassing you for having symptoms.

it doesn’t get easier, more like it just becomes routine. maybe it’s nice to have someone around. it’s a healing of self through the other - finally being listened to, on your end, and on shadow’s, he gets to use his powers for something other than destruction. reddened hands come away clean, for the first time in an eternity.

doesn’t mean it’s perfect, far from it. easy to slip into old habits. days are hard. the journey ahead is rough, awful, gravely and painful.

but you will make it.

I believe in you.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Shared Interests [Pt.3]

Daryl Dixon x Reader [Pt.1][Pt.2] [Pt.4]

Daryl's pack loves parties, so you agree to throw one in honor of your daughter.

While you loved having the pack around for celebrations, now was a little too early.

Baby Lily was born all but two days ago and the family members started trickling in already to bring gifts and talk about the big party to celebrate the little one.

Right now all you wanted was rest.

You had allowed the calmest pack mother to come help around the house and teach you about taking care of an infant werewolf, which Daryl also found very helpful seeing he had no clue on how to be a father.

You learned their feeding habits were different from human babies and were shown how the little one easily chowed down small pieces of meat at only a few days old.

Daryl's pack had proven to be a persistant bunch, each member coming over to drop off gifts ranging from full ready meals to toys for the pup. One of Daryl's cousins, the one who had built the crib you had now, had offered to build a kiddie bed too. "for when the kid got too big for her crib."

It was still weird to be so welcomed from day one. Even while being the odd one out you were immediately seen as a part of the pack.

So here you sat with Daryl, discussing when to give the pack their party. It was a tradition and you weren't going to withold them from celebrating. You just had to set some ground rules.

You blessed the weather being nice enough to celebrate outside and planned all the necessary things in record time.

Daryl suggested two weeks would be enough for everyone to have dropped by for their initial visit so the focus could be more on getting together instead of hovering around the newborn.

Laura, your cousin in-law slash house help told you pack stories of herself and other mothers.

Surrounded by their closest pack members even while the pups were being born. All the ladies had seem multiple litters being born because of how normal it was to share those moments. But she also knew Daryl wasn't one of the people who needed folk around him every day. After admitting on one hand she found it sad to not be there when your child was born, she also understood you were human and had other preferences. Besides the fact that your pup came unexpected, a few days early and in the middle of the night.

Two weeks of slow visitation and party prep passed and you had fallen into a pleasant routine around the pup that worked for both you and Daryl. But you started noticing the leftover benefits from carying a wolf pup were fading because the bitemarks left around your nipples weren't healing as quickly anymore.

Daryl had caught your discomfort and made quick work of cornering you for a chat.

"Yer mind's loud. Hear it buzzin' through the walls." You were captured between his frame and the kitchen counter, unable to escape and admit your annoyingly loud thoughts.

"I'm just sore. The wolfblood is filtering out of my body I think." You automatically sulked into him at the annoying confession. You were so used to the faster healing and improved endurance you were sad your weak human self was returning.

"How 'bout we have a serious chat after the party. Cuz I don' want ya feelin' like yer weak just cus yer a human."

You gave him a soft kiss and agreed to wait for the party to be over. Now focusing on getting everything ready for tomorrow.

The day started slow like any other. You were blessed with a child that slept throigh the night as long as she got fed before bed.

While you prepared breakfast Daryl made his way around the house with a complaining Lily in his arms. The second she saw you she wanted to be fed, but making breakfast and feeding her were no tasks to be combined.

Daryl had given her a slice of ham already, but that didn't suffice. Her whines made that very clear.

"Daryl?" Your voice was picked up by your husband and within moments he was at your side. "Just the bacon left. I can go feed her if you wanna finish this?" You already held your arms open to take Lily from him.

Your kitchen held enough space for you to hang out comfortably as Lily had her breakfast and also give you a lovely view of Daryl cooking bacon to go with your egg sandwiches.

Today was gonna be a good day. You had it all planned out and were excited to see the in-laws again.

But first breakfast. With Lily done feeding you could finally start eating. Thankfullyneach pack mom had the same idea and each gifted you a large basket full of puppy items and a note informing the basket itself and the added blanket were perfect to place your newborn in for a bit to rest your arms. You kept one in almost every room, including one next to you on the table.

You coo'ed at her as you placed her in the soft basket, much to Daryl's amusement.

You found the baskets a bit strange at first, but Daryl had convinced you to give them a chance and now you couldn't function without them.

Just as your butt touched yoir chair again, Daryl came up to the table with two large plates of food.

You two ate dinner and went through the day's plans again before cleaning up the dishes and taking turns taking a shower and setting up the last party prep.

You made sure to give Lily her lunchtime feeding so she'd be asleep just before the people started coming in.

With the large double doors to the back porch opened up you had a perfect view of her living room nap spot and worried a bit less about having to stay at her side the whole time.

Folks started coming in, quickly finding you and Daryl to share congratulations and more small gifts.

The farmers had come empry handed, but not without a promise of a large produce delivery coming in tomorrow. The eight wolves living there took care of greens, eggs, milk and meat.

Some parents had brought their kids too, who were all too eager to grab your hands to be lead to the newborn for a look. You admitted to be a bit anxious, but they all behaved exceptionately well. They sat down on the floor and said quiet hello's.

While you were away from the parents one of the older teens came to you. She had a worried look on her face and sat down close to you before speaking softly.

"Can I ask you something?" She had her head almost laying on your shoulder with how close she got, but you let her stay and let her speak.

"How did you react when you found out Daryl was a werewolf?" The question came out so careful, she was clearly afraid of something she didn't share out loud but the memory made you giggle a bit.

"My dad told me, because I love monster movies. Let's just say I reacted really well to it. Otherwise I wouldn't be here and have a kid with him." You gave her your kindest smile but couldn't help to ask what was bothering her so much.

This younger generation was almost perfectly human with the amount of control they had outside of the full moon, so they were allowed to mingle way more than their parents. Ans so it turned out the girl had developed a crush on a human boy.

She had come to you for advice on humans, not having told even her parents yet.

"It's never easy to show your real self to a human. We're not used to seeing werewolves outside of books and TV." Truth was, the monsters on TV were nothing compared to the beautiful creatures that surrounded you now.

"I think my best advice would be to just be you for now, figure out if he likes you as well and then think about more." You had picked up Lily from her spot and were holding her in your lap now. "Maybe the guy ends up being a weirdo, in the bad sense of the word." The comment managed to get a laugh out of her, luckily brightening the mood again just as Daryl came by.

"There y'are. Lost ya for a minute." He bent down to kiss your head as he stared at his kid nephews and nieces all surrounding his wife and child.

And said nephews and nieces were quickly surrounding uncle Daryl, bombarding him with questions. "Why do you only have one puppy? Can we see missus's wolf? Uncle, when are you having a big family we can play with?"

They swarmed him, clinging to his leg and begging for answers. He had picked up the smallest boy and bribed the kids to be calm around the baby if he'd give them answers. "Now listen y'all. 'N sit yer asses down." In a heartbeat the rowdy bunch plopped their butts down in front of him and stared up. "Momma here ain't a wolf. I thought yer parents told y'all tha' already." An array of "whaaat?" and "woooww"s sounded through the room and pairs of eyes peeked over at you before Daryl continued. "The other pack mommas are all wolves, fhey ca have more pups in one go. She's human, an' human ladies only have one pup at a time." Daryl had sat down on his haunches and had let go of his nephew again. "So be kind to 'er. She's family."

"So is the puppy only half puppy?" The genuine curiosity was adorable, knowing they would never mean harm with their questions. But Daryl's carefully chosen words when he answered were so sweet too. "Neh, Lily's all pup. See human ladies can have lil' ones with all kinds of creatures, not just other humans."

Another wave of "woooowww"s came in reply as some got up and ran for their parents to share the newly aquired facts, and others made sure to come to you and state how cool you were.

"So, humans and wolves really do mix better than most humans think, right?" Your original conversation was almost forgotten thanks to the little ones' questionaire.

"Usually humans are scared of things they don't know. But if you show you're not a threat, it could end up going really well." You gave her a soft side-hug and pat her shoulder, Daryl stepping in on her other side. "There's always gon' be older wolves tha'll think yer wrong fer likin' a human. But fuck' em. Ya can date who ya wan'."

Of course Daryl would be the one who agreed with more modern ways of life when it came to befriending humans. He considered his human best friend a brother and now even had a child with one.

"Thanks for being so open towards the pack, about all of this."

Daryl took her hand and pulled her to her feet, grabbing her and giving her the biggest bear hug. "My folks woulda hunted 'er for sport. Glad they ain't around no more. Nothin' wrong with humans when ya pick 'em well."

She gave him a happy nod in return, thanking you both again before heading out to grab a drink.

Parents had started to round up their kids, getting ready to head home after saying their goodbyes. Just in time to catch Merle come in with his truck stacked to the high heavens with moonshine. The older wolves, and even the ones just turned eightteen were offered to take a jar from the crate Merle took to set on the table on his way to his baby brother.

Without missing a beat he grabbed Daryl's wrist, yanked him towards him and put him in an inescapable hug, praising him and congratulating him on the healthy pup. When he let go he went in to give you the same bone crushing hug before he spotted the pup in your arms and backed up. He stepped up a lot more calm and offered a soft squeeze of the arm instead, congratulating you as well in a much softer voice. "Ya look great, momma. 'N so does the lil' nugget." A choked laugh escaped your lips at the name. "Nugget? Your baby niece has a name you know."

"'Course I know 'er name's Lily. Wha' kina uncle would I be if I didn'?"

You laughed together as Daryl silently appriciated Merle's ability to adjust his behavior around the pup.

The men went back outside after you excused yourself to feed Lily one last time today and try and get her to sleep in her nap spot until you were going to bed and taking her upstairs with you.

"Hey, dontchu drink tha' one! Aint yers!" You heard Merle's voice call out, making you head over outside just that bit faster.

Not that there was a fight, but you didn't want to deal with badly behaving wolves.

Merle noticed you walking through the door and handed you a bottle. Not moonshine, but an expensive brand of wine. "Weren't sure if ya'd be drinkin' cuz of the lil' one. Ya can drink it whenever."

You thanked him and brought the bottle inside, not drinking yet for as long as Lily still drank from you.

Outside the adults were getting loud, howling with laughter. You caught Daryl's voice immediately, he was toasting to you, "his pride and joy", praising you until he was out of breath.

You stood at the oposite end of where he was and watched from a distance, appriciating your loving husband's words.

"And cheers to lil' baby Dixon!" Merle shouted after his brother's speech.

While the men were being their rowdy self, the younger wolves had all banded together and were hanging out at the far end of the property while the women had swarmed you to chit chat. Talks about your daughter and husband were what filled the hours until you could barely keep your eyes open. Some of the mothers had decided then it was time to go round up their teens, get them to help drag dad to the car and head back home while you had gotten up to kiss Daryl goodnight.

"Night, momma~!" Merle's voice slurred as he swayed to wrap an arm around your shoulders and kissed the side of your head. "Good night, Merle. See ya in the morning?" Your sweet smile went straight to his heart, giving you that drunk giggle and nodded. "Ya know I love tha' hammock, find me passed out til' ya bring me some eggs 'n bacon."

You bid him goodnight and moved to find your husband who was still very invested in his conversation about mechanics.

"Baby I'm gonna go sleep." You let him know with a hand on his shoulder to keep his attention. He was drinking, but from a glass instead of a jar, having promised to get at most a bit tipsy tomight and make sure the house was left in a neat state before going to sleep himself.

"Hmhm, goodnight Bunny. Takin' Lily witcha?" He grabbed your side from where he sat next to you and tugged to get a kiss from you.

Bending down you smiled into the kiss, tasting the nasty moonshine.

"Lily and I will be upstairs. Love ya." You gave him another kiss to temple and heqded inside with a few waves to the others still hanging around.

Once upstairs in your bedroom you placed Lily in her crib, babbling soft apologies for waking her up until she slept again and putting yourself to bed as well, falling asleep to the howling of your celebrating family.

A/N: There's so much to write about Daryl's pack, it's so big!!

[zweetpea]

Zhongli x reader The Dragon of Geo (Spicy, no smut)

Summary:

The classic tale of a young lady and a dragon, but with a twist. AU no deities, or Tevat (I’ll still use Liyue and the Qixing just for convenience), no Archons. And I made Shenhe an Adepti because I thought that thematically it fit better. Also female reader.

Notes:

Warning: not for the kiddos! Has foul language and mentions of heat and breeding. And if you want me to write you smut based of the sultry scene feel free to ask.

Feel free to request any genshin ideas

Ao3 version here

Once upon a great beast roamed the sky. His scales, as brown as mud yet they sparkled like crystals. His hair as thick and shiny as gold yet it was softer than silk. His claws as sharp as rocks yet somehow held a gentleness reserved for the mortals of his land. And did he ever love his mortals. Hewent by many names, Rex Lapis, The Great One, Mighty Dragon of Geo, the children often called him Zhongli, but my favorite name for him has always been Morax. Something about it just presented power and authority. To me it screamed “I am your protector! You are mine to love! Though the seasons may change and life caries on for mortals, I will be here to protect you always!”

But those were the foolish wishes of a young girl who knew nothing of the world. A girl who was enchanted by the glimmer told to her as a child to keep her innocent.

He protected us for a millennia, but a century ago he decreed that unless he was given a bride by sunset he would ravage the land. The Qixing gathered everyone together to see if there was anyone who was willing to go. In the end they had to draw up a lottery since no one volunteered. Five years later he demanded another girl. And another after another five years. Some mothers or sisters left instead to protect their family, some had to be carried away screamed and crying. When I was fifteen years old I even witnessed a girl ask that she be escorted there in a carriage with a beautiful white dress. She was convinced that she was going to die and wanted to be pampered and treated like a princess in her last minutes.

I was never convinced that he ate them. I thought that they were a part of his harem and he got bored with them eventually. But it was undignified and unlawful to let a woman marry a man after she had been deflowered, lest she be a widow.

Anyway, it’s now five years later. Liyue is waiting on a letter from one of the four Illuminated Beast. This time 15 years ago Xiao came. He was a beautiful black and teal eagle (A/n: Don’t question the animal forms). 10 years ago Yanfei a lovely salmon pink deer came. 5 years ago an adorable little blue goat named Ganyu arrived with the letter. So this year should be the elegant white crane Shenhe.

Right on time she flys down with the letter in her mouth. I inform her of my name, how I knew her and the other Adepti’s name. “Don’t worry Shenhe, there’s is no need to go back to the others. I’ve been informed that I should wait here until the letter arrives and if it never came I was to return at the end of the day. I am the new bride of the dragon of Geo.”

Well truth be told the reason that I didn’t want to go back to the others was because I had a plan to stop all of this. In the back of my traditional dress I hid a dagger. I’m not much of a fighter but I figured... someone had to try? I guess? I dressed modestly as I figured that he would like it enough to not eat me immediately. If I died in battle I was going to take down Rex Lapis. I don’t need the praise, and I just want my people to live peacefully oblivious lives. In a few centuries this nightmare will become folk lore. A cautionary tale to spook children into being good. It’s finally going to end. I wonder if they’d get most of the details accurate, maybe they’d try to scope out the cave to try and find more details.

We walk out to the middle of the wild and into the mountains. The cave of the beast. Surprisingly it had doors. They’re beautifully sculpted and chiseled with various pattern that made me stop and gape at them in awe.

“This way, young one.” Shenhe motions with her wing. The doors open slowly and I enter the unnatural dark cave.

Once they close lanterns illuminate the corridor and standing before me was a gorgeous woman with long white hair that fades to black at the end, tied in a beautiful braid. “Who...?”

“Right my apologies. It’s still me Shenhe. In the cave myself, Xiao, Ganyu, and Yanfei take on more human characteristics. Come on, we mustn’t keep the master waiting.”

She leads me to the end of the corridor and into a large room. It looks like it had to be a thrown room due to the throne at the far back on top of a short flight of stairs but it feels as if someone could throw a party in here.

“Shenhe. You’ve returned earlier than usual.” A deep voice from behind a burgundy curtain called. His glowing gold eyes peer through the semitransparent cloth. She kneels to him once we reach the bottom of the stairs.

“The mortals came prepared, this time.” She informs the man on the throne. Gold and brown plush pillows surround him as he lay there waiting for his next plaything.

I kneel too to show him that I am as loyal and docile as his servants. “Shenhe you are dismissed.” She exits the room and he rises from his throne and draws back the curtains. “Rise my bride. Rise and look at me.” I do as he commands. I gape with wide eyes at the man before me. Long thick black hair pulled back in a ponytail, he had on a strange white outfit that showed off his chest and yet was like a skirt at the bottom. His arms were black at the shoulder and gradients to a yellow at his hands, I wonder if that was natural or part of his clothes. He starts to descend towards me as I’m standing there like an idiot. He chuckles, his voice even more sultry. “Like a little bunny caught in her predictors sight.” In the blink of an eye he’s behind me, holding my dagger to my throat. His hood most likely fell off as he dashed for me. “You are the only one who has ever tried to kill me. Others have begged or tried to bargain. Some I’ve even fed to Xiao because they only cared about the prestige of becoming my wife.”

“Your eyes... the legends and one own imagination cannot do them justice. I’ve imagined them thousands of times. How could I have hated these beautiful ambers for five years?” I looked up at him as he leaned over me.

“Excuse me? Did you just ignore what I said? Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. Women who try to seduce me are fed to my servants.”

I’m off in lala land and can’t fully register his word. “My father’s probably told me your legend 100 times when I was younger. If you’re going to kill me please let me die with your eyes being the last sight I see.”

“100 times? I could never fathom hearing something 20 times let alone that many.”

“Ironically I am your 20th bride.”

“Do you think that makes you special?”

“That’s for you to decide. Are those horns real?” His horns came up from his head and slanted back then curled back towards the front. I turned around in his hold.

“Yes they are, and they’re vERY—” He cuts himself off as I grab his horn. He groans at the contact dropping my dagger, it clangs as it reaches the ground. “—Sensitive.” He grabs my hips and nearly grinds our waists together. He breathing is heavy as he layers his head on my neck and guides me up the stairs. I almost trip a few times as I have to walk backwards. “If you ever do that again, you won’t be walking for a week.” He pushes me down on his throne. He pins my hands above me.

“Was- was that supposed to be as erotic as you made it sound?” My face feels hot and is undoubtedly red.

He looks at me surprised and then angry. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t take you right here, or better yet call in the Adepti to watch as I fuck you dumb on my cock like the whore that you are?”

“Morax, I know that you probably won’t care but I’d like to ask you a question before you deflower me.”

He looks a bit surprised, probably because of the name I called him by. “... this better be good.”

“Why did you ask for a bride?”

“Why? Why?! I don’t have to tell you anything!!”

“Okay. I’m ready.” I say nonchalantly. This caught him off guard.

“Excuse me.”

“You granted me my question, and from the stories I’ve been told Morax keeps his word. You told me you were going to torture the poor Adepti by forcing them to watch us propagate.”

“Do you just believe everything that you’ve been told or read in a book?” His face like the fabled Jueyun Chili’s.

“I was actually also wondering about those stories. But you’ve only permitted me with one question, so I guess I’ll never know.”

“If you were so curious about me why’d you try to kill me?” He lets me sit up.

“I mean, you are quite well known for your brides going missing and never coming back. It would be stupid not to have some kind of protection, whether or not it would work is a whole different argument. I figured that if for some reason I changed my mind I should still have some protection.”

He smirks at me. “I don’t think that’s you wanting to kill me is the truth. Not anymore at least. You wanted to convince yourself that you would be the hero. But what you really wanted was answers. Answers to the questions that you’ve been tossing and turning in your sleep about. I can see it in your eyes. The was they sparkled when you went to grab my horns. The way you looked over my body as I came closer to you just a few minutes ago. The way you were ready to use your last boon on something that should be so innocent, just so that you could get the answers that were just eating you alive.”

Could he really read you like an open book? One with the letter printed big and bold? “Okay, you forced me to face a truth I really didn’t want to confront. What does this mean now? You know that I won’t try to kill you, you know that I don’t want your power, and you know that I’m not gonna beg for my life or try to bargain for the sake of Liyue. So what will you do now?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone who’s interested in history and my stories stumble into my life. I’d like to keep you around for now.”

“What happens when you don’t want me anymore?” He walks back to where he dropped my dagger and comes back with it. He makes a slit on his palm and smeared the golden blood on my forehead in a single line.

“I make this contract to you that should I get bored of you that you may leave this place and never return. Once you wash off my blood the contract with solidify.”

(A/n: just go with it)

“Well what happens if you take my virginity then get bored of me? It wouldn’t be proper for me to marry another.”

He makes another slit on his palm as the first healed already. Then drags another line across my forehead. “If I am to take you, let our first contract become null and void and I will make you my wife.”

“Does this mean that I may ask you anything that I want?” My eyes widened probably sparkling.

He chuckles. “How about you go explore while I um... ahem, straighten up.” He gestures to the tent in his pants.

I blush and look away. “Right! So Um, bye!” I run from the room to the door on the left of the main entrance to the throne room.

<><;><><>

I didn’t see him again until dusk that same day. I got well acquainted with the rest of the rest of the adepti in their human forms. I also found water to wash off his blood. He found me wandering around and brought me to a bedroom.

“This will be your room. Mine is just across the way if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. This is my only article of clothing and if we were in the same room then I’d be too overwhelmed by that little body of you little bunny to resist.”

“Um, will I have more than one piece of clothing?”

“I’ve already asked Shenhe to get your clothes from your father. I believe that some of the other citizens have given you presents as well. Something about this being a change for the better.”

“They probably think that if I’m moving my clothes here that you’ve accepted me and won’t seek another bride at least for a few decades.”

“By then who knows what invention they will make to stop me. I might be done for.”

“I don’t think so. You’re the oldest documented creature in the world!”

“And yet you still wonder why I want a bride.”

“Your lonely?” He goes into his own room and closes and locks the door. “But what about the Adepti!”

“Good night bunny.” He says through the door.

“That not my name!” I shout my name to him.

<><;><><>

3rd person POV

When Shenhe reached Liyue she was confused about the what the people were doing. Most were celebrating. But there was a lone man in the background shaking and trying to stay calm. When she arrived the celebration stopped dead in its tracks and everyone looked panicked.

“Where is the new brides father?” No one new who she was talking about so she informed them that a new bride had offered herself up. The brides father steps up to Shenhe and asked what happened to his daughter. She asks for your clothes and tells everyone that the girl was alive and well.

After that everyone ran back to their homes and grabbed something nice to give her for the new bride. They all tagged the gifts so the bride knew, who gave her what.

<><;><><>

1st person POV

I found the gifts in my room. Very pleasant silk clothes and finely made hair pins, combs and brushes. A few even sent toys. ‘Wait, they think...’ I thought as my face heated up. ‘No, no. Get those disgusting perverted thoughts out of your head girl! He’s just keeping you around for entertainment!’

<><;><><>

The next day at breakfast I started asking him questions.

“So if you only fed a few to Xiao what happened to the rest?”

“Well I either got tired of their nonsense and killed them or they ate a Jueyun chili and died. The ones I fed to Xiao I turned into mice first. And the rest of them who left behind bodies were buried.”

“They’re real? Jueyun Chili’s I mean.”

“Of course.”

“Are they really as hot as a thousand fires?”

“Oh no, it’s more like ten thousand.” He chuckles.

“Are you making fun of me? I really am curious!”

“I know. You’re just too cute Little Bunny.” He smirks. “They are spicy enough to kill a mortal with a single bite. Even the smallest nibble would kill a fragile soul.”

“Are you going to set a limit to how many questions I get to ask you per day?”

“Why would I do that? That would just restrict my fun!”

“I just don’t want to make you annoyed.”

“You are very interested Little Bunny.” He chuckles again, as I blush.

“Are your arms... naturally like that?”

“Yes.

...it’s how I look because I my dragon form.”

“Right, Shenhe mentioned that in this cave you all transformed into human like beings. Why is that? What is it about this cave that allows you to transform.”

“I was the only one able to shape shift. They all longed to have the ability to have a human form. I carved these halls and cast a spell over this place that allows them to transform into whatever human form they desire.”

“I’m happy for them!”

“As am I.”

<><;><><>

After a four months I was still living with them and it was reaching near my birthday.

“Hello Morax! Do you want to know why today is so special for me!”

“I’ll bite, why?”

“I’m 21 today! It’s my birthday!”

“Birthday?” He looks confused.

“Well yeah! Mortals have this tradition called a birthday where we celebrate the day that we were born and how many years we’ve been alive!”

“Well good Birthday to you then.”

“Silly! Mortals say happy birthday and whoever is having the birthday receives presents. So can yours be you telling me stories from the millennia that you protected Liyue? Please?”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “You are certainly interesting. You can ask for anything and you ask for that?”

“I wasn’t sure that if I asked any other day that you would tell me stories.” I look down in embarrassing.

He pulls me onto his lap as he sits on his throne. “I’ll tell you anything that you want if you tell me what else you want for your birthday.”

“Um, well I guess... the only other thing that I’d want is to maybe go outside. Only for an hour or two. It’s just, I haven’t been out since I moved in and I’d like some natural sunlight.”

“I’ll do you one better. As long as myself or one of the Adepti are with you, you can go out anytime.”

“Really?” My eyes shine brightly. He nods. “Thank you so much!” I squeal and hug him, as well as giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Do you want to go now?”

“Just let me hug you a little longer.” I request a bit embarrassed.

<><;><><>

It’s getting close to a year now and I’ve noticed that Morax seems withdrawn from me.

“Hey. Morax? Rex Lapis? Zhongli? Are you okay?” I knock on his door and don’t get a reply. Xiao is walking past when he decides to pull me away from his masters room. “Hey what was that for?”

“You’ve made it farther than most. Except for one. Guizhong, the first bride.”

“What happened to her?”

“The legends you’ve been told are wrong. Guizhong offered herself to the master. She was much like you. Curious, fearless, trusting but not naive, but the biggest difference is that she could tell him to back off. You just let him tease you like a masochist.”

“Okay so why isn’t she here?”

“He had never had a lover before, he was possessive over her. And as time went on she started to hate him. And she flung herself off of the balcony in his room.”

“Oh my goodness, poor Morax.”

“On top of all of that she was his first love.”

“Xiao please, help me get in there! I want to let him know that I won’t leave him! That I want to stay with him!”

“Luckily I have the only other key to the masters room. I have to warn you though, he’ll be in his dragon form but it’ll be only a tenth his true forms size.” He unlocks the door and I rush in to the lavish room. It’s the most beautiful room in his palace. He lays motionless in his dragon form. Around his bed. In this form he huge. 50 feet long, brown scales, gold locks and curly horns. The legends really don’t do his majestic beauty justice.

I rush to his side and hug his head in my arms. He’s very thick though so I can’t get my hands all the way around. “I’m here, and I’m not going to leave you. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

He lets out a small roar, something akin to a whimper.

<><;><><>

I’m in my fifth year staying with Morax, and I’m madly in love with him.

On this wonderful day all of the Adepti are running around the hall in a panic.

“Ganyu what’s going on?”

“Well um... maybe you should stay in your room for a few days to about a week... and lock the door... and hide if someone tries to come in.”

“Ganyu, where is Morax?”

“Please for your own safety stay away from the master this week.”

“But-” before I could ask her anymore questions she rushed off. ‘Morax what are you hiding?’ I thought. I know that it’s rude to go into someone’s room without their permission but I am supposed to be his bride so surely an exception can be made just this once.

I slip through the door and the room is almost pitch black save for a few candles. His balcony door is closed and his curtains are drawn. I hear rustling around the room and feel arms snake around my waist. “What are you doing here, my cute little bunny?” Morax’s voice sounds strained, and yet hungry. Husky and low and so sultry. As he spoke that into my ear his hot breath hitting the shell I almost melted right there.

“Morax? What’s going on?”

“Seems there are stories that even my little scholar doesn’t know. Once every 100 years or so I go into heat, it’s a time period called breeding season. You seem so ravenous right now.” He groans in my ear and suddenly I feel my underwear becoming damp. “Don’t you know how rude it is to enter someone’s room without knocking? I think that you need to be punished.”

A small squeak was all I could muster as he threw me over his shoulder and walked me over to his bed. He dropped me down onto it and made quick work in getting rid of my clothes, leaving me in only my underwear.

“Naughty little thing aren’t you.” He teased as he felt my slit through my underwear.

“Morax, please. Stop teasing me, and just fuck me.” I whimper.

“Eager are we?” He smirks.

“I really love you and I want this. Please, let me help you. I want to help you, I want you!”

He blushes at my confession and gently smiles at me. “Whatever my love wants, she will get.”

<><;><><>

“Do you think that I’m pregnant?”

“I’m not sure. I fucked you good though.” He teased.

“Yeah and I can’t feel my legs.” I deadpan.

“What a shame. Looks like you can’t leave then.” He snuggles closer to me as the week of his breeding period is over.

“I love you.” I tell him.

“I know you’ve practically chanted it this entire week.”

“Well you better get used to it because you promised to marry me if we had sex.”

“I’ve known for a while now that I wanted to marry you.”

“Does that mean that I can touch your horns whenever I want?”

“Didn’t you get enough of that this week?”

“I like your horns, I find them very cute and so smooth.” I smile as he flushes red.

“Given the chance to become immortal and live with me forever, would you take it?”

“Staying young with you forever? Yes please, where do I get this immortality?”

“The Valberry. A single bite will give you keep you young forever and you will get to be with me, forever.”

“Really? Screw til death do us part! I want you to myself forever!”

<><;><><>

“Do you Rex Lapis, The Great One, Mighty Dragon of Geo, Zhongli, Morax, take this woman to be your wife for eternity?” Yanfei asks.

“I do.”

“And do you-”

“I do!”

“She doesn’t even need to think about it, that’s what I like to hear! I now pronounce you husband and wife.” We embrace is a long loving kiss.

All of Liyue cheers at the sight of their protector finally being satisfied.

After the wedding we went back to the palace and Morax lays me down on our bed and crawls on top of me.

“I hope you’re ready for me to fuck a baby into you.” He licks his lips with his long dragon tongue.

“We don’t have to rush anything we’ve got all this time in the world.” I smirk at him.

“I am your protector. You are mine to love. Though the seasons may change and life caries on for mortals, I will be here to protect you always. I love you bunny.”

“I love you too Morax.”

[shaynawrites23]

hi! i love the cary agos fics you wrote, and i was wondering if you could do one where he’s planning a romantic trip for his girlfriend’s birthday? thank you!

Romantic Getaway

Word count: 1033

A/N: I'm not entirely sure this is what you had in mind, and I apologize if I didn't get his character quite right in this one, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

It's not unlike Cary to have plans for your birthday. Plans with you, in any case. Every year, you tell him all you want is time with him, special time alone during which neither of you have to worry about work and you can focus completely on the other.

And every year, Cary fulfils your request.

Five birthdays. That's how many you've celebrated with him; it might have been six, if you'd met just slightly earlier than you did. If you didn't care much for birthdays before, Cary would be the one reason why you do now, with how much he dotes on you, showering you with affection every time.

Cary's always affectionate, but even more so on your birthday. The day to celebrate your existence, to remind you how much you're cared for, how much he loves that you're here and alive and that you're here with him.

Of course, you never know in advance what he has up his sleeve. The lawyer takes secrets and surprises to a whole new level, never letting you even catch a hint of what he's got planned until he's ready to reveal it, and this year is no exception. For several months now, he's had this trip planned, ensuring neither you nor him would have any work obligations for a week, and all the travel details have been arranged and double checked a dozen times over.

Only the best for his angel.

Oh, he knows you don't care, you've told him time and time again just having him on your special day is more than enough. He knows you're happy just sitting on the couch watching movies with his arms around your waist and your head tucked under his chin, where you fit so perfectly, but he still longs to make your birthdays memorable. Cary is observant, and never fails to pick up on the way your eyes light up when he tells you he's taking you out, or to pack up for a little getaway, with that bright twinkle in his warm, brown eyes that promises you a good time and plenty of kisses.

This day starts just like all birthdays do for you. Cary's arms still cradle you to him when you wake, his chest rising and falling in time with his slow breathing; it feels like safety and comfort. You know he always wants to make your birthdays about you, but as you wriggle up slightly to be able to look at your boyfriend, you can't help the soft smile on your face.

You're worth the world if it makes you smile like that, and he intends to devote the rest of his life to making you happy. Starting with tomorrow. Little do you know, he has a small black ring box in his coat pocket, and it's for you.

He looks like an angel, you always think. Gorgeous enough a man when he's awake, there's always this sense of giddy pride that fills your heart, alongside the love, when you realize once more that yours is the bed he chooses to fall asleep in, that you are the person he trusts so when he's asleep.

As though he can feel your gaze on him, he stirs, eyes fluttering open softly and then you're greeted by that warm, golden brown you adore so.

"Happy birthday, angel," he murmurs, arms reaching for you to pull you back into his embrace, and you let him, content to spend the first moments of your day together resting on his chest. "The way you're starin' at me though, I'd think it was my special day and not yours."

"Shush, and give me a birthday kiss," you demand, wriggling back up to face him, and Cary obliges with a grin. You kiss him once, twice more, just because you swear he gives the best kisses, and then you pull back to speak again. "So... did you listen to what I said this year?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Oh, but you know better. That cheeky grin, the twinkle in his eyes... he didn't. He never does.

"Do you wanna know what we're doing this year?"

How could you not? Your curiosity is piqued, and you nod. Cary gently moves you off his chest, warm hands on your shoulders, and reaches over into the drawer of his nightstand. You watch him as he does, watching the way this beautiful man moves so gracefully, and you nearly miss how he produces a clean, cream colored envelope, just like the ones he uses at work every day. As he hands it to you, though, you notice your name penciled in his handwriting in the corner; does your name always look prettier when he writes it?

"Go on, angel, open it."

You do. It's thicker than what you'd expect from a simple letter, and the first thing that falls out is tickets. Plane tickets. The cogs are turning in your head as you slip out another paper, and another... A hotel booking. Couples' massage. Spa day. A map of Paris...

You're going to Paris. With your boyfriend.

He must see the disbelief on your face, laughing softly at your expression. "Happy birthday, baby. Do you like it?"

"Yes!!" It comes out a little louder than you'd intended, but neither of you care as you fling your arms around him, pressing five kisses to his face in quick succession before Cary turns his head just right to catch your lips in a proper kiss. "I love it. You know I love traveling with you. Oh my gosh, Cary, how did you do this-"

You won't find out. Cary may love you, but he's good at keeping secrets, and the way his eyes twinkle at you, you realize he won't say. What he does tell you is, "Get your suitcase, darling, we're leaving tonight."

Tonight. Tomorrow, you'll be in France, in the oh so well known city of love, and safe to say, you're excited. Seven kisses later, you've hopped off of him to prepare, and Cary's left in bed a moment longer, gazing after you with a soft smile on his face. God, how did he get so lucky?

[deafenedsaltwater]

Today I woke up at 4am and decided that means its. Time to write a 4x ramble of mainly highlights

Now to copy-paste it here so I can uhhh add to it a bit

More than 14 years ago when the first piece of bfdi/xfohv content was released, 4 and x were the first two to have a spoken interaction. Furthermore, in that educational short film, 4 helped X Find Out His Value, the titular event. Later, upon reintroduction in bfdi/bfb proper, 4 has x be his cohost, which gives us more to go off of for their relationship. Highlights of this include: 4 making it a challenge to cool down x when he was on fire, / 4 speaking in unison with x (subscriber specials + have nots/have cots challenge), / 4 saying, and I quote, "but X is just looking for his treasure! I CAN'T LET THAT HAPPEN BECAUSE I MUST BE X'S ONLY TREASURE ", / in a flashback where x is telling the contestants about 4's love for bfdi, it's shown they lived together or at least spent a lot of time together before the show (also can I say seeing x get sad about 4 running away hit me hard), / 4 sung a cover of "All I Want For Christmas" directed AT X, outright calling him "baby" and telling him he would wait under the mistletoe for him (4X NATIONAL TREASURE HOLY SHIT I LOST IT THE FIRST TIME I HEARD IT), / during Thanks for 800k, they did a parody of Honey I'm Home where the line was unfortunately replaced with "buddy I'm home" (4x disaster. We lost that day), / Cary confirmed that they were not related, and that he "liked the shipping", and "yeah, it's definitely canon" (to some extent. We can assume he didn't mean outright romantically, partial win), / 4 calls x "The best cohost money can buy", (he doesn't pay x), and earlier 4 had said "that's because I'm here! Yeah, I'm thinking of doing standup" in response to someone saying it's hot. X says something affirmative to this, I forget what exactly, but with ambiguity I can assume he meant that 4 is hot and noone can stop me, / 4 reads x's memory to find out who stole donut's diary, and x says "Ok! ...remember to keep my secrets" afterwards, / when bfb split into tpot and bfb, when x left, 4 not only got depressed, but referenced the original XFOHV short by saying "I just don't know what my value is, where my cohost is!" (Evil fucking homewrecker 2 I'll get them I WILL), asks ALL of his remaining contestants to help him get x back, before outright making it the challenge for the episode. When x is returned to 4, 4 says "x! I'm so happy to see you! Are you?" "That depends, how good are you at paddy cake?" "I'm super pro!" "Then I am happy as well!", / they have a lot of hugs, notably the one upon 4's return, and that one that is animated so that they reeaaallly look like they're making out, / I'm running out of notable moments hold on let me go watch a 4x compilation

I'm using masculine pronouns ffor both of them bc that's how they're referred to in the show, but as with all Algebraliens, they're genderless

OK OK I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TALK ABT X GETTING SAD WHEN 4 ENTERED THE GROUND. Sitting at the exact spot 4 entered the ground for months and watching his 43 imaginary bfdi seasons is so,, I mean all I'm saying is that hurt/comfort goes crazy for them (fanfic reader in me shining through)

AND THE "What do you think of roleplay?" LINE. That whole episode of them swapping appearances was so lovely for subtle 4x dynamic. I want I want more just fluffy moments with them,, just seeing how they banter and bounce off each other is so joyful. I'm a sucker for fluff

Generally X is just such a supportive friend and 4 loves them (Other than the LRC line - I really don't like the Limb Reattachment Center being a possibility even off screen. It messes with my perception of them, and it feels inconsistent with the rest of their relationship throughout the show. Maybe I'm just a massive hater and don't want my vanilla flavor fluffy best friend ships being toxic in some way. 4 screeching adds to this, but lesser as later when x made it a condition of him staying 4 stopped screeching)

4 was proud of x for doing bfb without them. Honestly, my earlier distaste for the LRC thing could be fixed by continued shows of progress in their relationship like this. I will read between all the lines I want to make sense of the behavioral changes, as someone who hasn't watched BFDI content other than all subscriber specials, the pi day massacre, tpot 11, and a 4x compilation. Part of my willingness to somewhat brush past is that 4 and X are very strong/durable people who, as far as we know, could live for eons. Mainly referencing Thanks For 900k's timeskip here. I hope they live forever <3

OHHH THE WHOLE SUBPLOT OF 4 TELLING THE CONTESTANTS TO RESPECT X'S ALOE VERA,, I mean, it's a subplot that leads into x catching on fire which leads to th e challenge being first to cool him down then to do something to help his aloe vera grow. But it was great. "If X says there are points, there are points" ...lovely

X offering 4 a juicebox when they feel bad <3

I hope these two title screens speak to their relationship, and my perception of them

[theyoungoneed]

The Brave Barista Part 1

(Klaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Summary: Carina Newman just moved to New Orleans not long ago from New York. While at work working as a barista she meets the infamous hybrid Klaus Mikaelson whom invites her to a family event at the Mikaelson compound. Things take a turn and Carina's courage is tested.

Word Count: 2,638

Warnings: blood, killing

A/N: inspired by Klamille and how Klaus called Cami the brave bartender, only this time I got the idea of the brave barista.

Carina Newman brewed what must have been her one-hundredth cup of coffee of the day (or of that day). Moving to New Orleans only a few weeks ago, she happened to work at the busiest corner cafe on Frenchmen Street. She loved the rush and chaos of it all, although at times it was overwhelming. In fifteen minutes her shift would be over and Carina can finally take a breath. Finishing taking an order from a table outside, a certain man catches her attention. That’s a new face she thought. Carina saw numerous people a day, some were regulars, others only stopping by, but something about this man was mysterious. He sat leaning back in his chair at the last table under the shade of an umbrella. 

Black sunglasses covered his eyes as his index finger tapped on the menu. Carina nervously made her way toward his table. 

“Hi, what can I get for you today sir?” The man slowly looked up at her, removing his sunglasses. 

“Hello love,” he said in a British accent, grinning with gleaming dark-blue green eyes which stared into the soul. They were like hooks digging deep, enchanting, hypnotizing, intriguing, wanting to know more. Strands of his dark blonde hair swayed in the wind. Carina now had a closer look at the man, she absolutely thought he was attractive. Little did she know, she had been staring at him for a good ten seconds until she was brought back to reality when she realized he was speaking to her. 

“I’m sorry,” she cleared her throat, “what did- what did you order?” The man chuckles to himself looking down at the ground. 

“It’s alright love, I tend to have that sort of effect on people, being charming and taking their breath away, “ he said in a cocky tone of voice grinning alluringly. Carina gives out a nervous laugh trying to hide her flushed face and a nervous habit of fidgeting with her pen when taking orders. 

“I’ll have a cup of your finest hot coffee with one cream and no sugar.” 

“One cream and no sugar, coming right up.” She smiled as she turned around going back inside. Carina was burning hot with embarrassment. She allowed herself to take a few deep breaths behind the counter before making his coffee. Who was he? She felt as if she was being put in a trance. His confident demeanor made her heart skip a beat and create butterflies in her stomach. Carina anxiously prepared his order hoping to not mess anything up. She even added a cheesy touch of her signature latte art heart. Carefully, without spilling, she brought his cup of coffee and placed it before him. 

“Thank you, love.” He seemed satisfied with the heart. 

‘Enjoy,” she tells him. Right as she was about to leave the man stops her. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” 

“No-I um just moved here two weeks ago from New York.” 

“What brings you to New Orleans?” He studied her slowly moving his eyes to the nametag on her shirt. “Carina,” he points out. 

“Just Cari is fine,” she tells him. “To answer your question, I moved here to get away from complicated family drama.” 

“Now that we have something in common,” he says, taking a sip of his coffee. Carina lets out a heavy sigh. 

“Family. You can’t live with them, you can’t live without them, am I right?”

“I couldn’t agree more, love.” Every time he said the word “love” Carina would get shivers down her spine. Anxiously she played with her fingers trying to buy time until her shift was over and make small talk. 

“So, have you been here long or-” He lets out a sharp chuckle as if the question was some sort of inside joke. 

“I used to live here a long time ago with my family. It feels as if a hundred years have gone by, but now we recently moved back.” He traced the rim of the cup with his finger and displayed a wide cheeky grin. Carina noticed he was finished with his coffee. 

“I can get you another one if you want,” she said, grabbing the empty cup. 

“No, that’s alright love,” he replied getting up from his chair. He was taller than I expected, she thought. Intimidating even. “Carina?” he asked. “My family is throwing a ball tonight and I was wondering if you would like to attend?” Carina hesitates. She only just met this mysterious man, let alone doesn’t even know his name. 

“I- I don’t know. I don’t even know your name.”

“Pardon me, love, where are my manners? Klaus Mikaelson.” That’s a name, she thought. 

“Klaus,” she said. “That’s an old name. “ He chuckles at her remark.

“Here,” he reaches into his inside jacket pocket and hands her a white envelope. 

“This is the invitation. The address is on the back. I hope to see you, Carina.” His side smile made her blush. Carina looked down at the white envelope and opened the invitation which read: PLEASE JOIN THE Mikaelson Family THIS EVENING AT SEVEN O’ CLOCK FOR DANCING, COCKTAILS, AND CELEBRATION. Before Carina had a chance to say anything else, she looked up and he was gone.

The dress hugged her body, the off-white fabric laid against her beautiful pale skin. Her light brown hair was in wavy curls, cascading down her shoulders. After touching up her makeup and applying some lip gloss, Carina was ready to leave. She took a taxi to the address on the invitation. During the ride, Carina’s stomach was in knots. She had no family here, no friends, how can she trust a stranger she has only met a few hours ago? The location of the ball was at the Abattoir in the French Quarter. It was a very large house dating back to the 17th century. 

The light brown bricks shone under the setting sun. Two floors of the house contained porches that stretched around the building. Carina got out of the taxi, her white heels clicking behind her. Flocks of people started entering the building with shining gowns, fancy suits, and masquerade masks. The place was grand. Bright blue lights flashed all around, glitter fluttered down from above, with acrobats hanging from the ceiling on pieces of cloth. Fire breathers and tall towers of flowing champagne were everywhere. 

Carina scoured the room for Klaus. Her eyes gazed through the crowd, wandering, searching. Suddenly she feels a presence behind her. 

“Carina,” said a voice. She turned around and their eyes met. His black suit and dark blue tie fit him nicely. “Thank you for coming, you look beautiful.” Carina blushed at the compliment. 

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.” Carina admired the place. “Wow I can’t believe you live here, it’s beautiful.” 

“It has been in the family for centuries. 

“Really? I didn’t know you were royalty,” she teased. 

“Would you care for a dance, love? A King needs his queen.” Carina bit up her lip. 

“I’d love one,” she replied. He gently took her by the hand and guided her onto the dancefloor. His fingers brushed the side of her waist before placing his hand on the small of her back. They held each other’s hands as they swayed slowly from side to side. Carina softly placed her hand on his shoulder. Their cheeks were almost touching. The two of them took in the moment not saying a word, letting the music sweep them away. Carina’s heart was pounding out of her chest as they danced. She tried to control her breathing but the presence of him being so close to her made it impossible. 

“Are you alright, love?” He looked at her with deep concern. 

“Yes, I’m just a little bit nervous, that’s all.” 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. You’re with me,” he tells her, smiling.  His facial expression was alluring. Klaus gazed into her eyes as he cupped her cheeks in his hands, leaning closer. 

“You are alright,” he stated. “There is nothing to fear.” His shrunk and dilated as they stared into Carine’s eyes intensively. Slowly, he removed his hands from her cheeks. 

“Now love, how are you feeling?”

“I am alright and there is nothing I should fear,” she replied. Confused, Carina broke away from his stare blinking rapidly. It felt as if she had been hypnotized. She didn’t know how or why but she knew she no longer felt nervous. 

“Wow,” Carina said surprisingly. “I don’t feel nervous anymore. How did you?-

“He compelled you, darling,” said a woman in a tight shimmering black dress with blonde hair. Carina gave her a quizzical look. 

“He what?”

“Oh come on brother. You know better than to compel your date.” Brother? Carina turned to Klaus. 

“What is she talking about?” 

“No need to worry about that, love,” Klaus told her. “Carina, meet my lovely annoying sister Rebekah. Rebekah, Carina.” 

“Charmed,” she said, faking a smile. Suddenly a man approaches us bringing Klaus into a big embrace.

“Klaus Mikaelson!” 

“Marcel, fancy seeing you here.” The man puts his hands on Klaus’s shoulders. “Let’s get you a drink. I have a lot of important things to tell you.” Klaus quickly glances at Carina and then back at the man. 

“Marcel, this is Carina.” The man turned around to face her. 

“Pleasure to meet you. Me and Klaus go way back.”  The two made small talk until Marcel slowly whispered something into Klaus’s ear which made his jaw tighten. Carina couldn’t help but notice the grave expression on his face. 

“Rebekah, would you be so kind and take Carina to get something to drink while I have a little chat with Marcel?” 

“Why do I have to?” she whined. 

“Go or I’ll compel you, little sister.” That word again. Before Carina had time to process, she was staring deep into Klaus’s eyes. 

“You will go with my sister and have a drink. Forget everything you heard her say. I will find you shortly.” Next thing she knew she was at the bar staring at a full shot of glass of vodka. Carina watched as Rebekah drowned down a shot, slamming it on the bar counter. 

“Your turn.” Deep down Carina didn’t want to drink, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she had to. The alcohol burned her throat as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“So, is Klaus your only brother?” 

“No, I have three other older brothers, but they’re not here tonight,” she says, taking a sip of champagne. 

“How come?” 

“Family squabbles tend to push them away,” she tells her. It was obvious to Carina that Rebekah did not want to engage in any sort of conversation with her. Although, there was something Carina was curious to get off her chest. 

“Earlier, I couldn’t help but overhear the word compel being thrown around-”

“Listen sweetheart. You seem like a nice girl, but I would rather be anywhere else than be sharing a drink with you. Oh, and by the way,” she continued, “stay away from Klaus. He is not who he thinks he is and frankly, you do not want to stick around and find out. Cheers.’” she said walking away leaving Carina all by herself. At this point, she wanted to leave the party alltogether, until she felt a gentle touch at the small of her back. 

“Are you alright, love?” Klaus asked, holding two champagne glasses. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied. 

“It seems like you need a drink,” he tells her, handing her a glass of champagne. 

“I think I’m going to need more than that,” she chuckles. “Thank you.” Klaus watched as she drowned down her champagne, clearly seeing she was agitated. 

“Don’t mind my sister Rebekah she can be-” 

“A bitch,” Carina interrupted. Klaus laughs at her response. 

“But in all seriousness, you shouldn’t let her get to you.” 

“Duly noted.” They stare into each other’s eyes before Carina broke eye contact. 

“She got all mad because I mentioned the word compel and I don’t even know-

“Listen, there are some things that are hard to explain-” 

“What is hard to explain? What’s going on here? It’s like part of me feels like I am in some sort of hypnosis doing things I don’t want to do but for some weird reason have to.”

“Carina listen-”

“No, you listen.” Carina became furious. “Who are you? Your sister told me you are not who you really are and that I should stay away from you.” 

“Do you want to know who I am? I am a man damaged by his demons. I don’t want to be controlled by them. I admit that I may not be the one for you because of it. Yes, there are things you do not know about me but it is best for your protection that you do not know.”

“Protection? Protection from what?”  His mouth slightly opened but his eyes moved in a different direction to something in the distance. 

“Get behind me,” he said, grabbing Carina by the arm. “Stay close to me.” All of a sudden a group of people in nice tailored suits entered the party. Without hesitation, a woman with long black hair quickly grabs the closest person in the crowd. Opens her mouth revealing sharp fangs, and bites their neck. Chaos unfolds, screams break out, and everyone is scattering to get out. Klaus takes Carina by the arm and with great speed sprints with her behind a wall, hiding. How did we get here so fast? Am I that drunk? Carina watched in horror as more people were being attacked and blood spilled on the floor. Carina thought she must be imagining all this. Come on wake up, she told herself. 

“Who are they?”

“Werewolves.” Klaus looked back at her and smiled. 

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me, love.” 

“Werewolves?” Carina starts laughing hysterically. “This is a joke right?” 

“No, love werewolves are very much real, and so are vampires,” he tells her. “Stay here.” Klaus ran in a flash towards one of the attackers snapping their neck. Carina watched him with great force, threw them across the room, and ripped out their hearts. I must be going crazy, she thought. She hid deeper behind the wall shaking. Forget who he was, what was he? Carina didn’t know if she should run or wait for Klaus to return. As she peeked behind the wall the odds were not in Klaus’s favor. Blood ran down his face and he had taken a large gash on his side. Not only was he being cornered by ten or more werewolves but so were Rebekah and his friend Marcel. 

Carina felt a rush of adrenaline through her veins as she noticed a broken pipe laying on the ground. Quickly, she picked up the pipe and with all her might, as crazy as she thought this whole thing was, she ran towards the werewolf about to attack Klaus, and plunges the pipe into their back. The werewolf flopped on the floor. Carina gasped out of breath. With the werewolf dead, that gave Klaus an advantage. One by one the werewolves dropped dead. All of a sudden a werewolf runs up behind Carina although her fast reflexes made the werewolf only scratch her arm. She winced in pain. 

The werewolf continued running towards Klaus but Carina was faster. She got in front of the werewolf and plunged the pipe into his heart. The werewolf fell to his knees gagging blood, yet with one quick move Klaus ripped its heart out and it was over. Blood trickled down Carina’s arm. The dead werewolf’s heart was still beating in Klaus’s hands. They looked up at each other out of breath. A smile crept on Klaus’s face. 

“The brave barista.”

[bookwormdeen]

Requests Open

Requests Open

Hello!

These can be pairing with Reader, OC (fanfic or one-shot) or just one-shot without pairing (just the character).

I do dates special (b-days, Christmas, etc)

Smut (Only in some cases), Dark themes: Allowed.  I like polemic, yes! Feminism, Gender questions, Politic, Health. All of it. The world is a lot of things, writing has to be too. Plus, art is here to help.

I value things that run from stereotypes or cliche. So your character can be LGBTQI +, Black... Anything really. I don’t wanna just white perfect characters. I want different.  Because different is far more challenging and fun to write.

I am taking requests with the following characters:

TV Shows

Daredevil: Foggy Nelson; Benjamin Poindexter, Matt Murdock, Vladimir Ranskahov

The Originals: Kol, Klaus, Elijah

Vampire Diaries: Damon, Kai Parker

Vienna Blood: Max Liebermann

The Punisher: Billy Russo.

The Witcher: Jaskier, Cahir, Lazlo

The Order:Hamish Duke, Randall 

Justified: Tim Gutterson

Limitless: Bryan Flinch

Ragnarok: Fjor Jutul, Laurentis

Dark: Jonas, Magnus Nielsen

Peaky Blinders: Thomas Shelby, Michael Gray

Amazing Spider-Man: Ben Reilly (Scarlet Spider), Peter Parker, Alistair Smyte, Miles Morales

A Discovery of Witches: Marcus Whitmore 

Merlin: Merlin, Arthur, Mordred, Gwaine, Lancelot

Grimm: Nick Burkhardt

Good Wife: Cary Agos, Finn Polmar

Star Trek: Spock, Khan, James Kirk, *Data

Dusk Till Dawn: Richard Geko, Seth Gecko

Glee: Sam Evans

Scream: Noah Foster, Gustavo Acosta, Eli Hudson, Will Belmont

Hannibal: Hannibal Lecter

Money Heist (La Casa de Papel): Berlim

The Good Doctor: Shaun Murphy, Neil Melendez, Alex Park

Castlevania: Adrian Tepes, Trevor Belmont

Clone Wars: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker

Sex Education: Otis, Adam Groff, Eric

Movies

Marvel: Loki, Bucky (Winter Soldier), Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Doctor Strange, Quicksilver, Black Panther, Harry Osborn

DC: Bruce Wayne, Scarecrow, Joker

Ex Machina: Caleb Smith

Riot Club: Miles Richards, Dimitri Mitropoulos, Guy Bellingfield, James Leighton

1917: Blake, Scholfield

Narnia: Edmund Pevensie, Peter Pevensie, Caspian 

Hobbit: Legolas, Thorin, Thranduil 

Fantastic Beasts: Newt Scamander, Theseus Scamander

6 Underground: 4, 6, 7

HP: Draco Malfoy

Game of Thrones: Robb Stark

Maze Runner: Newt, Gally

Characters 

Iron Fist Austen: Mr Darcy, Mr Tilney, Sidney Park, Frederick Wentworth

Noah Centineo

PS: Here are listed only man but you can ask woman too (I don’t know which ones to put, there are much more than these ones).

Ships

Crossover ships are accepted too!

Davina x Kol

Mr Darcy x Elizabeth

Mr Tilney x Catherine Morland

Anne x Gilbert

Sidney Park x Charlotte

Matt Murdock x Karen Page

Billy Russo x Krista Dumont

Amy March x Laurie

Rich Gecko x Kate Fuller

Anastasia x Dimitri

I love AUs and crossovers: like HP meets Narnia, or something like that. Ask about Actors are good too. 

Free Stories 

These ones I pretend to write more of it or remake it. These will be long fanfics. Feel free to share ideas. If you want a one-shot involving these TV shows or movies is good too. 

Obs: Some of them may be only in my Wattpad account. * @lucy_beau

The Alienist; Dirk Gently; Northanger Abbey; Sherlock, Sanditon; The Adventures of Tintin; Chained; Fallet; Ripper Street; Byzantium, Jumanji; Carrie Pilby; Vallerian; The Name of The Rose, Crimpson Peak; Revenge; Red Sparrow; Hookup Plan; The Ottoman Lieutnant

Free Ask:

Saw a thing and want a fanfic? Send me the idea. The movie is bad but could be good? Let’s write it. Want a prompt but can’t write? Maybe I can do it. Send it to me!

Free fanfics or stories have a limited number of chapters: 20.

Obs: I don’t do terror. Horror? Yes. 

SEND!!!!

If you want to be in my TAGLIST, say.

Need some help getting ideas? Look here: Prompts

[polarisbibliotheque]

Dante and Vergil with their s/o giving them late Christmas presents

Pairing: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Interestingly enough, Christmas was a time of the year when demons decided to cause mayhem - giving the whole crew enough work for months to come. Because of that, you didn't have the chance to buy your dear devil a present... But that wouldn't stop you from showing you cared.

Age restriction: none, really. Dante's present you can interpret as NSFW only if you WANT to. It pleases all readers: you can read it as something very silly or kinda spicy - and BOTH go with our red devil. He is a seducing goof, really.

Author's notes: I'm not in a very jolly Christmas spirit this year and feeling quite meh about the Holidays, so maybe this can cheer up some people who are on the same vibe as me. Sometimes we're not on our best days and it's ok if we're not on the Holiday vibe - you're not broken. It's fine if you don't feel great.

ALSO IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: the poem on Vergil's part is a song lyrics I've written a long time ago and I went through my notes to find something I liked for this one. You're welcome to share if you like, but please credit me. It's my first time sharing this sort of work, so be nice about it ^^

Dante

Oh, Christmas. Jolly time, beautiful time, snowflake insanity time and carols playing everywhere a human – or demonic – hearing could reach.

One thing everyone seemed to forget, was the high incidence of demons causing pure mayhem. You understood Halloween – based on Samhein and all that – but Christmas…? Maybe demons liked to follow the Wheel of the Year as well and wreaked havoc during Yule?

Well, you settled with that explanation. Demons were all about magic, solstices, equinoxes, and such, so Christmas should be one of those magic heavy times too.

It was a bummer that the Devil May Cry always got busier that time of the year.

After the family and the crew got together, Dante started celebrating and waiting eagerly for it every time December 1st arrived on the calendar. Prior to that, though, you knew your red devil wasn’t much of a celebration type of guy – for a long time, he had no one to celebrate it with; therefore, he allowed the date to die inside his heart.

Hunting was his – and yours, to be honest – way to stop thinking about it. If you were busy, you wouldn’t notice that loneliness that seemed to approach during the jolly time.

You sighed, while walking back home in the streets of Redgrave. With hands inside your coat’s pockets, your sword was carefully kept inside a guitar case you caried on your back – something you learned with Dante to be less obvious of your status as a devil hunter to other people. You were just another tired musician, coming back home after a tiring day at work.

And what a day. You received so many calls, the crew had to cancel Christmas and each one go to a job and clear one demon infestation at a time. That meant no Christmas food, no cozy drinks, no jolly songs on repeat and no presents.

With your feet marking your way in the snow, the snowflakes spiraled as you let out another sigh. You wanted to give Dante a present – to show him you cared and all that, even after he told you he didn’t want anything. But that was the thing about him: Dante never wanted anything and always thought he didn’t deserve it.

If you could only grab him by the shoulders and shake that stupid belief out of his head. It was funny even how many times that type of thought crossed your head – but it was a staple of living with Dante.

You could hear people celebrating inside their houses. It was very late and probably in the middle of the night – you didn’t carry a watch or something to tell the time since a demon blasted your cellphone in two during a job and it took you more than a year to scrape some money to get a new one. Nevertheless, you learnt to tell the time by the skies and, giving how late it was, Dante probably was coming back from his as well.

He would be tired – or at least sore from all the fighting – and certainly in need of a shower, just like you at the moment.

Crossing the heavy wooden doors of the Devil May Cry, you left the guitar case and dirty boots by the jukebox, noticing how Dante’s were missing – that meant he still wasn’t home.

As you went up the stairs, you still thought about his gift. You could give him a pizza for the night and Dante would be happy. One would think it would be great to have someone easy to please around, but it did make your life more difficult: you had no idea what to give him when you wanted something to be really special.

Everything was special for Dante.

Reaching your room, you finally smiled while searching for some clean pajamas. That little thought made you realize something – and search for a beautiful ribbon you could wrap a present with.

*

“Ei, babe! Still in the shower?”

“Hey, Dante! Just got out!” You answered while drying yourself with the towel. You could hear a little laugh in his voice as he walked around the room on the other side of the door.

“Damn, seems like I lost my chance for a nice shower with ya tonight!” His voice was a little muffled, making some effort with something. If you knew him well, Dante was finally taking his boots off and would remain sitting on the bed for a while to let his feet rest.

“Oh, I was desperately needing a shower.” You sighed, making him giggle a little. “How was your job today?”

“Eh, same as always… Nothin’ special, just a bunch of buffoons thinkin’ they’re gonna conquer the human world.” The sigh in his voice made you lough this time. You found it lovely how you always could hear his smile in the way he spoke back at you. “What…?”

“Not a usual thing hearing you say ‘buffoon’. You’re really Vergil’s brother, huh?” You couldn’t stop giggling as your fingers fumbled with the beautiful stripe of red cloth that would be a beautiful bow when you’d be done with it.

“What can I say, babe?” You already knew Dante so well, his shrug was in his voice, as well as his smugness. The cocky smile was beautifully plastered in your mind – and you’d hope you’d never forget it. “You start livin’ with the prince of darkness there, you get a few of his mannerisms.”

“Hmmm.” You tried to hold back a laugh, but the wheezing was recognizable even to Dante in the room. “Now I’m imagining good ol’ Verge dressed as Ozzy singing Paranoid like a crazy metal dad.”

You could swear Dante’s laugh could be heard through the whole shop – and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing alongside him. Moments like those were better than any presents you could give him.

“Ha! Now that would be a sight to see!” He coughed back. “But ya know, don’t mention this to Verge, but he used to like Black Sabbath and uncle Ozzy when we were kids.”

“Nooooo…! You’re joking!” As soon as your voice achieved the heights of disbelief, Dante just laughed in response. “Verge is a Sabbath guy?!”

“I’ll say two things: Mr. Crowley and War Pigs.” Dante’s voice disappeared for a few seconds before coming back again. “If ya sing one of these by his side, Vergil knows the lyrics by heart.”

“Man, I gotta do that one of these days…!” You giggled to yourself, hearing Dante falling on the bed. Probably sitting, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. “What about you?”

“Oh, I love uncle Ozz and Sabbath! Who do ya think introduced metal at home?!” With a sigh, you knew he was stretching and finally starting to relax. “But yeah, I was more into AC/DC, and later bands like Mötley Crüe. Verge said it was all one hell of a noise and he couldn’t focus on readin’.”

“Huh. As if you can focus on Sabbath.”

“Touché. He knew some songs on drums too, he just liked complainin’…”

That was a good present for you. Having Dante remember things of his life and talk to you about mundane things, like music, was something that always warmed your heart – you loved everything about him, but spending time together and just getting to know each other more and more… That was something only his soul could gift you.

“Talkin’ ‘bout complainin’, is everything alright there, babe? Or did the toilet swallow you?”

“Oh, you know. Just a couple of sewer demons, I’ll be done with them in nooo time.” Your answer made both of you laugh – although, sewer demons were indeed an annoying breed of devils. “I’ll be out soon, red devil, chill out. I have a surprise for you.”

“What…? Surprise…?”

That suddenly kicked into his head: it was Christmas. Dante had completely forgotten about it. He was so used to not celebrating, that going about it like a normal day was just average to him. All the lights in the street, the snow, the songs, the smells of Christmas food… It was something he had learned to ignore.

“Oh, babe… You…”

But Dante’s mumbles were interrupted as soon as you emerged from the bathroom wrapped around the red ribbon; a perfect big bow resting on the top of your head as you opened your arms. You found him sitting on the bed, shirtless, stretching his legs after a tiring day of hunting – his dumbfounded sky-blue eyes staring at you in awe for the couple of seconds you took him by surprise.

“Merry Christmas, cowboy!” You giggled back, a wide smile on your lips. “I couldn’t buy you a present, so…” You signaled to yourself, opening your arms again right after.

“Damn. I love you, babe. Have I told you that already…?” Dante murmured with a beautiful big smile on his lips, taking your hand on his as you approached. “Merry Christmas, beautiful. Sorry I couldn’t get ya a present this year.”

“It’s ok. You’re already my present, big guy.”

Dante just kissed you in return as you sat on his lap. The only way for you to know how much your words meant to him, was by the rhythm of his heart, beating like fiery drums.

He wouldn’t mind receiving that Christmas gift every year.

Vergil

The last demon fell on the floor, slayed by your very own ghostly white Mirror Edge. Your hands were covered in blood, as well as the snow covering the ground in that Christmas night.

The moon was high in the sky, celebrations already starting to come to an end inside homes all over Redgrave. Vergil once told you there were times of the year, usually celebrated by witches and occultists in general, that held power – and Christmas time was one of them.

You had to take a different job than Vergil in order to keep demons at bay that night; returning home, then, was a lone path. Quietly walking in the streets, you kept your hands warm inside your pockets, watching as people went back home or just turned off the lights to go to sleep.

“I do recall Christmas at my family’s home…” Vergil said calmly, watching the snow falling outside while he kept his hands warm with the cup of fancy tea you brewed for the night. “It all seems like a distant memory. I…” He halted his words, furrowing his brows as Vergil carefully chose his words. He wasn’t one to speak without intention and, when it came to his feelings, he always struggled to find the right words. “…Spent too much time in Hell. Time itself is a concept forgotten on those lands.”

“Hmmm. Were you aware of the passage of years…?” You kept focusing on your painting; sitting in front of it, you let Vergil speak, paying attention to his words but being careful not to overwhelm him with attention. He raised his eyes to you, watching as your hands carefully painted the snow from the night outside – Vergil knew it required trust from you to allow him to watch you creating something.

“Sometimes…” He let out a deep, controlled sigh. There was a type of tug inside his chest every time he talked about those memories; as if something inside him was twisting and leaving him breathless. “Some minutes seemed like years… And some years seemed like seconds. I only realized how much time had passed when I saw Dante for the first time.”

“Huh. Makes sense…” You muttered, making him raise one eyebrow. You reached for something on your paint desk and Vergil gave you your teacup – he always feared you would accidentally take a sip of dirty paint water in your moment of being absorbed by your art. He had done that countless times while reading; it was something he wasn’t proud of. “I wouldn’t have wasted time trying to know what year it was if I was falling apart after crawling out of Hell. Makes sense you only noticed when V united with Urizen again.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with a subtle nod, brewing your words inside his mind. You seemed to be the only person he could openly talk with and not be judged – there was something of welcoming about it. “I… Forgot. How Christmas is like. I know the memories; I know the traditions. But I don’t know the feeling anymore… I see just a ritual that only has meaning if people believe in it. In Hell, no one believes in anything; the only thing keeping you alive is a small light of hope that one day you will make it out of there. The rest…” And Vergil did a vague gesture with his hand, preparing to take another sip of his tea. “Is frivolous.”

“Only survival matters.” As you added, he nodded alongside you.

“And keeping yourself. Not allowing your soul to die. If you lose that, not even your body can bring you back.”

That conversation with Vergil marked you. They were just a few words before he went back to reading and you focused again on your painting, singing a couple of songs ever time your heart felt like it. Surprisingly, it was something Vergil enjoyed while reading – as well as mindlessly massaging your feet and calves you usually rested on his lap while both of you were concentrated on something else.

Vergil was easing back on Christmas. It was a lot of work – he wasn’t specially loved by anyone but you and Dante in the crew, but everyone was warming up to the blue devil. Trish and Lady found it easier to welcome him given their history together, and Nero was working on his own feelings of having a father – and one who didn’t even know him, to top that. The first Christmas together was a miracle and the second Christmas, Vergil already showed he was a lot better at thinking of gifts than Dante – they usually didn’t remember people actually expected to receive something, but Vergil always knew each one’s preferences.

He never expected anything back, though. It had something to do with him atoning for his sins, but there was something else as well. If you didn’t get in the festive spirit, Vergil wouldn’t get into it as well. Time and important dates were a real struggle to the blue devil – as he said before, there wasn’t such a thing in Hell.

Vergil was completely tone deaf when it came to noticing the passage of time: it was common between you two a few reality checks. Vergil usually approached and you helped him make sure what he was living was real – not one of his many hallucinations when incarcerated – and when were you. “When” as in how many weeks had passed since an important event, how many months, how many hours. That way, you helped him with his time dissonance.

He probably didn’t even remember it was Christmas… It was your job to remind him, then.

*

As Vergil entered your room, he could hear the shower as your voice entangled around the notes of water in a song he didn’t recognize – not that he needed to, for Vergil loved hearing you sing.

Leaving his coat on the back of the chair, he sat on the bed to take off his boots. It was a relief, really. The moment the day ended, and he came back home – it had been a very long time Vergil didn’t really have a routine of winding down, changing to comfortable clothes and sleeping in a warm, comfortable bed. He always took some time to close his eyes and feel the ground under his feet, focusing on how grounding that was.

His heart seemed to go back to its own place – a forgotten place in his chest, filled with a warm sense of safety. He could only define it as the feeling of love and protection he longed during all his years of seemingly endless suffering.

There were days in Hell that indeed felt like an eternity. Sometimes, Vergil questioned if everything he was living with you was real – working in the Devil May Cry, talking to his brother again, getting to know his son. It was a dream, and dreams were prone to ending.

Shaking his head, Vergil took a deep breath before taking his boots and opening the closet to keep them safe and sound in their proper place. The next piece was his vest, carefully kept in a drawer.

Vergil calmly went back to the desk, in order to get his coat and hang it inside the closet – hearing while you turned off the shower and started to dry yourself, still humming your song of choice. It was one you had shown him before, that he could identify.

As soon as his fingers touched his coat, Vergil furrowed his eyebrows – his eyes meeting an envelope with his name atop of his read of that month. That was your handwriting; that he was certain.

Taking the envelope between his fingers, Vergil turned it around, finding the words “Merry Christmas”.

Oh.

Oh.

He had forgotten about Christmas.

Vergil stared at a lost spot on the wall for a while, internally complaining about his lack of awareness of important dates in a human world. Shaking his head once again, he finally opened the envelope, finding a simple piece of paper with your handwriting – a poem, by the way you framed it on the sheet of paper.

“When I believed life was concrete and coal

You made my heart rain gold

Dripping like honey over your chest and arms

I want to glimmer with you amid the stars

Your breath caught on my lips, kept in my soul

Your sparkle entangled in my hands, I will never let go

In the silence of the Universe, witnessed only by Venus and Mars

I give you, my love, my soul and my heart.”

Vergil didn’t know that poem.

He read those words again and again, breaking the meaning and feeling behind them. His silvery eyes had never seen them before, but there was something of different… Something that seemed to wrap around his heart and make his eyes threaten to feel more than he usually allowed them to feel.

Until he found the little note on the bottom of the paper.

I know it isn’t perfect, love, but I wrote this poem for you. It’s the sincerest thing I can give you this Christmas. I hope you like it as much as I liked writing it.

“Oh, you found it.” Vergil was lifted out of his storm of thoughts by your voice, recently emerged from the bathroom. He turned around, having a stern look on his face and his hands holding the single piece of paper for dear life. “Merry Christmas, my dear. I hope you like your present. I didn’t have time to buy anything, and I wanted to give you something meaningful.”

Without any words, Vergil approached you with the same resolution he did when he had an enemy in sight. You just looked at him, trying to understand his reactions – Vergil was always a box of surprises. He never reacted like everyone else did, but it was to be expected after all he had been through.

You were caught completely by surprise when he wrapped his arms around you, tightly holding you against his body – his face hidden in the curve of your neck. His heart was aligned with yours; and that made you smile.

It was the first time Vergil was the subject of a heartfelt poem – not just a heartless reader searching for some tenderness.

**

I blame Duff McKagan’s Tenderness for that last line and overall feeling of this ending part

This Tenderness. I love this man, I love this song, and it was Vergil written all over. It's also really comforting on trying times, give it a listen ;)