#couldn't see until we started crying from frustration and feeling broken

[mudstoneabyss]

<- problems and issues haver

[starsdotalk]

Couldn't resist writing my own, this is my first time so NO JUDGING PLZ 🙏🏻 (excuse for the grammar mistakes, English is not my first language 🥲)

You once had a family in which you hold very dear to you, a fantastic one at that. Movie nights in the weekends, shopping sprees with your mom, teaching your little brother his homework, and helping your stepdad with his mechanical shenanigans. The normal domestic family one would always dream of. Everything was great! What else could you ask for?

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

You remember that memory, you and you family were going to a museum. Your brother shouting your name to hurry up because "We will arrive to a longgggg line! I don't like waiting!" You we're sleepy, your movements were sluggish, you didn't feel like going out of your bed. Your stepdad told you that you could just sleep in the car on the way to the museum, that made you quickly get ready and hopped in the car.

On the road, You four were singing along to a song you don't remember much. Arriving and then walking in the museum was okay, strolling and looking at some animals that went extinct. Your brother went crazy when you guys arrived at the dinosaur section.

Everything was great! That is until the ground started shaking. it was slow at first, barely felt, and then it started shaking so fast that the T-Rex skeleton structure started to fall off one by one. The ground was shaking, so was your body. You felt terrified, the only thing that took you out of your terrified state was the reassuring hand of your mother holding yours and your stepdad's gaze that shouted a million reassuring words.

People were screaming, crying, running, and shouting. You were a brave kid, you didn't shout or cried. Amidst the chaos, you lost the warm feeling of your mother's hand Interlocked with yours, your father's gaze, and your brother's tight embrace.

You were alone and terrified. Standing alone in the middle of the room with tears spilling from your eyes, your mouth shut even though you want to shout for your family. What could a nine year old even do in a terrifying situation such as this? The next thing you know, the light is out.

You were welcomed by a white ceiling, Your eyes blurry, and your head throbbing in pain. A nurse comes up to you, was her name Alice? Alex? Ally? You don't remember. Her words were inaudible to you, probably asking about how you feel.

Then you remember what happened, your mom, dad, and brother where are they? Are they okay? What happened?With a small and broken voice, you asked about them. The nurse opened and closed her mouth as if unsure if she should tell you. For a few minutes she just kept pondering, you weren't an impatient child like your brother, but you felt as if you have his impatience right at this moment.

You asked again, clearly frustrated and confused. The doctor speaks up, when did he come in? He apologizes, says something about how they did everything they could, but still couldn't save them. What are they talking about? You were sure you heard your mom just calling out to you earlier, aren't they outside the room? They should come in, you want to see them.

You couldn't figure out what emotions was written all over the doctor and nurse's face. You we're always around joyful people, not whatever they we're feeling right at that time.

Suddenly a knock was heard on the door, your uncle stepped in the room. No mom, dad, or brother. Where are they? Are they still asleep?

You couldn't figure out what expression he was wearing again, it was similar to the doctor and the nurse. You didn't care because the next words your uncle let out was one you will never move on from.

"They're dead, your families dead." He says, his voice was odd, it had something more to it than normal. Your nine year old brain couldn't believe it. Them? Dead? No, your mom was calling out to you earlier, you heard her calling your voice!

You didn't take it lightly, you we're a child. A child mourning the lost of it's family.

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Fast forward to a week, you're in another city, a city far away from home. Your uncle couldn't take you in simply because he was a busy man. So here you are, Infront of your biological father's doorstep.

It's scary here compared to the lush green grass and blue blue skies of your home. A guy named Alfred accompanied you inside, it was empty. Clean yet empty. Very empty.

No toys laying around the place caused by your brother, no sweet scent of a dessert your mom was making, no dad fixing whatever he could find fixable. Where is he anyways? Where's your biological father? You were expecting a warm welcome. He's your biological father after all, the man your mom made you with.

But the welcome was far from your expectations. It was cold, shivering even. Only the Alfred guy made the place less horrifying.

How will your life go on? You were still mourning. And your dad not welcoming you made you feel worse.

Alfred says he's busy, that he will go and greet me later. You obviously believed him, he looked trustworthy.

He leads to a room, it was clean and smelt like cleaning materials. It was quite huge for the nine year old you, bigger than the room back at home.

Alfred offered you to eat, you denied, saying you were tired from the long flight and needed rest. He let you, obviously.

So, now you were staring at the dark ceiling without the glow in the dark stars you had back home. The room was quite, you didn't like the smell. The house was huge and scary. Maybe one day you'll find this house warm and you'll consider this place your new home.

Or maybe not.

Who knows?

Author's note:

THIS IS SO SHORT, IM SORRY 😭

I might make the next chapter longer, so, don't worry 😜

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 18 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer try to cope in the aftermath of running into each other. Spencer makes a series of stupid decisions which lead him back to you and then away from you once more.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - drinking, slightly tipsy reader, swearing, AA meetings, talk of therapy, tears, Spencer falls off the wagon, arguing, slightly aggressive and intimidating Spencer, mention of erectile dysfunction, making out, use of “good girl”, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, orgasm denial(?), Spencer goes from 0-100 and back again, Spencer is incredibly mean.

WC - 7.9k

Chapter 18 - Sandcastles

We built sandcastles that washed away,

I made you cry when I walked away.

Oh, and although I promised that I couldn't stay, baby,

Every promise don't work out that way, oh, babe.

Every promise don't work out that way. 

“How much further is this place? I said we should have gotten a cab.” Tara groaned, her feet howling from the high heels she was wearing. 

“Just a little further.” Penelope insisted. 

Tara glanced at Emily and JJ who seemed to be struggling just as much as she was. Garcia was the only one of the four who wore heels on a regular basis and as such the walk wasn’t bothering her like it was them. 

“You said that five blocks ago.” Emily moaned, clinging to Tara’s arm to help keep her balanced. 

“A little walk never hurt anyone.” Garcia clucked. 

“Tell that to my feet.” JJ rolled her eyes. 

They continued for another two blocks before Penelope picked up her pace and started pointing down the street towards a blue neon sign proclaiming the name Trouble Bird. 

According to Penelope it was the best cocktail bar in the district and she’d insisted they go there for girls' night. 

The four of them had already polished off a couple of bottles of wine at Garcia’s apartment and the blonde had assured them the bar was just around the corner.  

“I don’t care what you say, next time we are getting a cab.” Tara huffed as they closed in on the bar. 

All that walking had seriously sobered her up, making the pre-drinks pointless. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on a cocktail or two. Maybe even five. 

As they neared the entrance, someone heading in their direction clearly caught Penelope’s eye and she slowed until she came to a stop. 

The others did the same, a collective groan leaving their lips. 

“Please god don’t tell me it’s closed.” Emily threw her head back in frustration.

But Garcia wasn’t listening. She took a few steps closer to the woman wearing a long, black evening dress, heels hanging limply from her fingers. 

“Y/N?” She spoke and your eyes shot up from where you’d been looking at the pavement. 

You blinked a few times, eyes darting between the four women and recognising two of them. You wiped your face where your mascara was probably staining your cheeks from crying. 

“Penelope, right? Spencer’s friend. And JJ.” You looked between the two blondes. 

“Y/N?” Tara frowned. “The Y/N?” 

“Uh…yes?” You frowned. 

“This is Tara and Emily, we all worked with Spencer at the BAU.” Penelope informed you. “Are you ok? Have you been crying?” 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” You shook your head. “It was nice to see you and meet you. I should be going.” 

You started past the women, meanwhile Penelope was giving them all wide eyed glances. 

“Look at her,” she whispered. “We can’t let her leave.” 

“Are you proposing we ask Reid’s ex-girlfriend to hang out with us?” Emily hissed under her breath. 

“I feel bad for her.” JJ replied in equally hushed tones.

“Me too.” Tara agreed. 

“For the record,” you spun back to face them. “You’re not being as quiet as you think you are. I’m fine, really. I’m getting used to being broken up with recently. Growing a pretty thick skin.”

Penelope’s face fell, her heart bleeding for you. She hated seeing anyone upset, even people she barely knew. She moved past JJ, Emily and Tara closer to you. 

“I insist you join us for a drink. This bar is supposed to be great.” She pointed over her shoulder at the Trouble Bird. 

“I think that sounds super weird.” You pulled a face. “No offence, I’m sure you’re all really lovely but as Emily said, I’m your friend's ex-girlfriend. I’m sure Spencer would not love the idea of me drinking with you.” 

“Can I ask you one thing?” Emily stepped forward now, eyebrow raised.

“I guess.” You shrugged. 

“You being upset, does it have anything to do with Reid?” 

“Uh…” you inhaled. “In a roundabout way, kind of.” 

“In that case, you will drink with us. If he’s upset you, screw him.” Emily smiled at you, clamping a hand down on your shoulder. 

“But you’re his friend?” You pulled a face. 

“Guess what, girly?” Garcia clapped her hands together. “We’re your friends now too.” 

And with that she took you by the hand and the five of you continued on inside of the bar. 

***

Two shots of a tequila and an exuberantly large glass of wine later, you’d eased up a little, spilling your guts to four women you barely knew. 

“It’s not even like I care that much, you know?” You sighed. “Sam and I didn’t have a future, I wasn’t in love with him. But bumping into Spencer like that was…fuck it was the worst.” 

“What was Spence doing at an art gallery? I am struggling to picture that.” JJ shook her head. 

“Blair,” you spat her name out of your mouth like a bad taste. “Beautiful, sweet Blair. She works at the gallery.”

“I’m lost.” Tara looked at the others. 

“Yeah, who’s Blair?” Emily added.

“Spencer’s new girlfriend.” You whined. 

“Spence has a new girlfriend?” JJ pulled a face. 

“Oh!” Garcia gasped, clapping her hands to her face. “The mom! The mom of the boy Daisy likes.”

“You knew?” JJ glared at Penelope.

“I knew he had a date a while ago. Luke and I watched the girls and…” she trailed off as the three BAU ladies smirked. 

“You owe me fifty bucks.” Tara nudged Emily. “I told you Alvez and Garcia were dating.” 

“Oh boy,” Penelope blushed. “Uh…surprise?” 

“I really didn’t think it was true.” Emily shook her head, slapping a bill in Tara’s hand. 

“Oh please, Alvez gets all heart eyes every time she walks into a room.” Tara laughed. “But back to the matter at hand. Reid really has a new girlfriend?” 

“Yes,” you pouted. “And Sam broke up with me because I got all heart eyes over Spencer without even realising.” 

“What is up with him lately?” Emily scoffed. “I’ve never known him date like this.”

“He was married for a really long time.” JJ shrugged. 

“He's going through some stuff. Cut him some slack.” Tara sighed and suddenly all eyes were on her. 

“What do you know?” Penelope asked her. 

“What? I don’t know anything.” Tara tried to shake her off.

“Liar! You know something!” Penelope gasped again. “Spill!” 

“I promised him I wouldn’t say anything.” Tara pulled a face. “He’s trying to get sober, I went to a meeting with him a while ago. And he’s seeing a therapist.” 

All four of you looked at Tara, letting her words sink in. Tara looked painfully guilty, feeling terrible for breaking her promise to Spencer. But the girls were worried about him, she wanted to try and stem their fears. 

“So he’s got himself all shiny and new for Blair.” You huffed. “Fabulous. So I was just the rebound after his wife and now this woman gets the new and improved Spencer? Fucking super.”

Out of nowhere you started to cry. And it wasn’t just a few tears, you started sobbing. You doubled over in your chair, resting your head on the table and wrapping your arms around yourself while you wept.

Penelope was next to you and she wrapped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to her.

“Oh Y/N,” She cooed, rubbing your back. “Oh dear, sweet Y/N.”

“Spencer is not himself lately,” Emily reached across the table and stroked your hair. “He’s not always like this.”

“I feel like such an idiot.” You sat up, tears still falling rapidly. “I should not be crying about Spencer in front of you guys.”

“Don’t worry about it.” JJ tried to placate you. “Honestly, it's ok.” 

“No it’s not.” You wiped your eyes on the back of your hand. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Don’t leave, not like this.” Tara tried to insist but you were already on your feet. 

“Thanks for this, and I’m sorry if I ruined your night.” You sniffed.

“Y/N, you really don’t have to go.” Penelope looked up at you sadly. 

“It’s best that I do. Enjoy the rest of your night, please don’t worry about me.” You turned on your heels and fled the bar, the four BAU ladies watching you go.

“Goddamn Reid.” Emily grunted. “She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is.” Penelope was pouting. “When Luke and I ran into them at Barkhaus they seemed so happy.” 

“I have so many questions about that sentence, that I am going to put a pin in for now.” JJ shook her head. “Clearly Spence is going through a lot.” 

“How long has he been going to therapy, Tara?” Emily asked her, turning to her left. 

But Tara wasn’t listening. 

She was looking down at her phone and the seven missed calls she’d had in the time they had been sitting here. As she stared at it, it started to ring again, the same number as all the others. 

“Who is it? Do you need to get that?” Emily nudged her arm. 

With a sign, Tara looked up at her friends, nodding her head stiffly.

“Yeah I probably should,” she exhaled. “It’s Reid.”

***

Spencer sat on the steps of the building with his head between his knees and his eyes closed. He listened to the passing cars, counted them in his head. He also kept count of every set of shoes he heard walk by.

He estimated he sat there for twenty four minutes before he heard another set of footsteps getting closer. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, her image coming into view.

“How many?” Tara asked softly although her body language was somewhat defensive. 

“Three.” He pushed himself to his feet. “I stopped at three scotch’s.” 

Tara exhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as she did so. She put her hand on his shoulder. 

“You should have called me sooner.” 

“Most likely.” He nodded, feeling like a naughty schoolboy. “I’m sorry.”

“I guess it's some kind of relief you stopped at three.” She guided him back towards the building steps he’d been sitting on. 

“Any more than that and I wouldn’t have made it back.” He confessed. 

He let Tara lead him inside to the meeting he so sorely needed. Afterwards she took him for coffee, despite the late hour. 

“Did I drag you out of bed?” He asked over his mug.

“No, I was at a bar a few blocks away with the girls.” She rolled her lip guiltily between her teeth.

“You told them, didn’t you?” 

“I had to.” She replied. “And uh, Y/N too.” 

Spencer almost dropped his mug. His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open as he glared at her as if she’d just grown a second head.

“Excuse me?” He spat a little angrier than he’d meant to.

“We bumped into her outside the bar. Garcia and JJ recognised her. She’d been crying and we felt bad for her.” Tara shrugged meekly.

“She’d been crying?” His face fell and his bottom lip pouted at the thought.

“Yeah, she broke up with her boyfriend.” 

“She did?” He sat up straight suddenly, like he’d been juiced with an electric current. 

“Don’t get too excited,” Tara rolled her eyes. “She’s heartbroken, Reid. You did a real number on her. She thinks she was nothing more than a rebound from Maeve.”

“That’s not true.” He shook his head frantically. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“You moved on pretty fast.” Tara sighed, picking up her coffee.

“Only because she did.” He whined a little. “If anything, Blair is a rebound from Y/N. I love her Tara, I love her so much.” 

“I am not the one you should be telling this to.” She shrugged. 

“You’re right.” He nodded, slipping out of the booth and throwing some bills on the table.

“Where are you going?” Tara frowned up at him.

“To talk to Y/N.”

“Right now?”

“Yes right now!” 

“Seems like a pretty bad idea to me.” She cocked an eyebrow. 

“Don’t care. I need to see her.” He sounded like he’d made up his mind.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Tara focused back on her coffee. 

“Thanks for coming to the meeting with me.” 

“You’re welcome. See you soon, Reid.” She sighed, watching him flee the diner.

She hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. But she feared this would only end in disaster. 

***

You were still awake, in bed and staring at the wall unblinking. The alcohol you’d consumed tonight seemed like a long distant memory and you felt horribly sober. 

Every muscle in your body hurt but you weren’t sure why. It was as though the heartache was spreading through your extremities, encompassing every pore. 

You’d missed Spencer every single second of every single day since you broke up. But after tonight you missed him with a renewed intensity. 

To see him with another woman, holding her hand, thinking about what they got up to behind closed doors tore your heart apart all over again. 

You’d meant nothing to him, it was as simple as that. You’d just been a notch on his bedpost, a rebound from his wife. 

You’d cried so many tears you physically couldn’t cry anymore. So you continued to stare at the wall and hope at some point sleep would wash over you. 

After a while there was a knock on your bedroom door but you ignored it. It came again twice more but both times you remained quiet. 

Then the door opened and your eyes flicked from the wall to the figure in the doorway. 

Your roommate Travis tentatively stepped inside, hands in his pockets. 

“Uh, you have a visitor.” He shrugged. 

“Don’t care.” You croaked. 

“I don’t think he’s going away.” Travis shrugged again. 

You frowned and shifted a little on the bed. 

“He? He who?” You grumbled, rubbing your sore eyes. 

Travis didn’t reply, instead he stepped aside so your visitor could enter the room. 

Spencer looked about as bad as you probably did as he shuffled in your room. Travis slipped out behind him and closed the door. 

His tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone under his jacket. 

You sat up in bed, glaring at him angrily whilst hugging the sheets around your body like some kind of protective armour. 

“You’ve got a nerve showing up here.” You tried to sound angry but your voice was no more than a pathetic croak. 

“I drank tonight.” He seemingly ignored you, stepping further into your room. “For the first time in weeks, I caved and I drank. Because I saw you.”

“Am I supposed to apologise for that? You’re a grown man Spencer, if you can’t handle your alcohol then that’s on you.” You managed to sound angrier this time. 

“It’s called an addiction, Y/N! I don’t have any control of it! I don’t have a healthy, normal attitude towards alcohol. I’m not the kind of person that can just have a drink, I have to drink to excess, get wasted to forget my pathetic fucking life!” He yelled at you and you flinched a little. 

“If you just came here to yell at me then leave. I am in no mood to listen to your bullshit, Spencer. Go back to your girlfriend. I don’t want you here.” You shook your head at him. 

“No,” he stepped even further into the room. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve said what I came here to say.” 

“And what did you come here to say?” You got out of bed as he got closer, hating the way he was looming over you. 

You only wore a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and you tried to ignore how exposed you felt. 

“I quit drinking, or at least it tried, I’m trying. I started therapy, I’m trying to be a better version of myself.” 

“Yeah, for your new girlfriend.” You scoffed. 

“Seriously? That’s what you think? You think I’m doing all of this for her?” He sounded incredulous. 

“Who did you do it for then? Enlighten me.” You growled, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“For a start, I’m doing it for my daughters because they deserve more from me.” 

“Agreed.” You rolled your eyes. 

“But I’m also doing it for you! I’m doing it because I want to be the kind of man who is worthy of your love.” He lowered his voice a little but the anger still shone through. 

“Oh please,” you shook your head. “You didn’t love me, Spencer. You love your ex-wife. Or maybe you love Blair, who knows? I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Yeah, I do love my ex-wife, ok?” He grabbed you by the biceps suddenly, making you whimper. “Of course I do! It’s normal for me to feel that way. Her hurting me doesn’t change the fact that we had a lot of good years together. It doesn’t erase the fact she’s the mother of my kids. But it also doesn’t mean for a second that I don’t also love you.”

“I think you’re just scared to be alone.” You shook your head. “You can’t stand to be lonely. You don’t love me Spencer, you just want someone to play happy families with. Well it won’t be me.” 

Spencer hissed and suddenly, using his grip on your arms he spun you around and shoved you up against the wall. 

You whined as your back slammed into it, his grip on your biceps tightening. 

“You think I’m lying? You think I would stand here and lie to you?” He spat right in your face. 

“I didn’t say that. You might think you love me, but you only want me until the next pretty face walks by.” 

“What the fuck do you think of me?” He shook you a little. “You think I’m some kind of fucking asshole who uses women and throws them aside once he’s done with them?” 

“If the shoe fits.” You shrugged. 

His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes were brimming with his rage. 

“I didn’t throw you aside, Y/N, you walked away.” 

“Because I heard you telling your ex you were still in love with her!” You yelled again, fighting against his hold on you but he was stronger. “And then suddenly you’re dating someone else entirely. How is that supposed to make me feel?” 

“I thought she was what I needed. She knows what I’ve been through, she understands because she’s been there too. But she’s not you, she’ll never be you. And you aren’t exactly innocent in all of this, you moved on from me pretty fast if I remember correctly.” He was caging you into the wall, trapping you in your own room. 

“I was trying to get over you.” You scoffed. 

“By fucking some frat boy looking behemoth?” He raised his voice again. 

“Don’t turn this around on me. It was your fault we broke up, not mine. If you’re allowed to sleep with every single mom who looks your way then I’m allowed to sleep with the decent guy who has had feelings for me since college!” You yelled back but you noticed his expression falter. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, finally letting go of you and taking a step back. 

“What is it? I touched a nerve.” 

“I didn’t sleep with her, ok? Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t sleep with her.” 

“You expect me to believe that? You couldn’t get me into bed fast enough when we met!” You shook your head. 

“You want to know the truth?” He suddenly grabbed you again and you found yourself quickly being pinned to the wall once more. “The truth is I couldn’t get it up for her. And I thought it was because of my goddamn antidepressants but it wasn’t. It wasn’t my meds, it couldn’t have been.” 

“Why couldn’t it have been?” You swallowed thickly. 

“Because,” he clenched his jaw again. “From the second you got out of bed and I saw what you were wearing…I got hard without so much as touching you and I have been ever since.” 

You felt the air leave your lungs and you couldn’t stop from glancing down between your bodies, as if you needed proof. But low and behold you saw it, the obvious tenting in his slacks. 

Your eyes flicked back up to his face and he was staring intently at you. 

“So while you might have been spreading your legs for someone else, I couldn’t physically bring myself to sleep with her. I couldn’t even fucking masturbate because my hand isn’t you!” He spat. 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You scowled at him. “Am I supposed to fall to my knees and thank you? You think you can come here and tell me you can’t get it up for another woman and I’m supposed to feel sorry for you?” 

“You got in my head, don’t you understand? You got in my head and into my heart. You’re under my skin, in my veins like a drug. Maeve, Blair; they have nothing on you. I thought Maeve was the love of my life because I didn’t know any better. She’s not the love of my life, you are!” He pushed you more firmly against the wall, his hips now pressing into yours and you could feel just how hard he was. 

Did it make you a complete idiot for thinking you may fall back into bed with him? He made it so easy to hate him, but he also made it impossible not to love him. 

You didn’t want to forgive him, didn’t want to give in and relent to him but it felt inevitable. The way he was looking at you coupled with his firm hold on your arms and his hard cock pressing against you was making you weak. 

It was only a matter of time. 

“I’m not even sure you know what love is.” You scoffed. 

Were you deliberately baiting him? Were you purposefully trying to anger him further? Was there a part of you that liked seeing him like this, pushed to his limits? 

As expected he tightened his grip on you and you could feel the bruises starting to form. 

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me, sweetheart?” He spoke, practically reading your mind. 

“Whether I am or not, clearly it’s working.” You shrugged. “But if I really wanted to get a rise out of you I suppose I could tell you that while you couldn’t get it up for your girlfriend, I was having some incredibly mind blowing sex with Sam.” 

Why were you doing this? What the fuck was wrong with you? 

Perhaps it was the anger still flooding your veins, the hurt Spencer had caused you lingered like a rain cloud. Maybe you wanted him to know how it felt, you wanted him to feel your pain. 

His eyes darkened as he stared at you and a menacing kind of smirk spread across his lips. 

“Oh darling,” he chuckled deeply, angrily. “You and I both know he has nothing on me.” 

“Wow, big headed much?” 

“It’s not big headed if it’s a fact.” He laughed darkly again. “I put my all into everything I do, research and study so I am the very best at anything I set my mind to. And that is how I know I am good in bed. Better than that oversized asshat you spent your time with.” 

You swallowed again, subconsciously pressing your thighs together. You hoped he didn’t notice but of course he did. 

“How wet are you right now, Y/N?” He smirked, his eyes practically black. 

“I’m…not.” You lied and he saw right through you. 

“Oh ok,” he laughed again with a roll of his eyes. “So if I was to do this…” 

He trailed off and removed one hand from your bicep. You watched it move between your bodies and suddenly it was between your legs, ghosting over the fabric of your shorts.

The soaking wet fabric of your shorts. 

You hissed involuntarily and Spencer moved his hand back up to your bicep looking incredibly smug. 

“I thought so.” He grinned dangerously. “You know you only need to say the word and I’m yours.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “You hurt me, you broke my fucking heart!” 

“Let me make it better, princess. I can make it up to you.” He softened, looking at you with something akin to love in his eyes. 

“No.” You whimpered. “You can’t make up for what you’ve done.” 

The darkness quickly returned to his eyes and in one swift move his lips were slamming into yours. You whined and the second your lips were parted his tongue plunged into your mouth. 

You allowed him to kiss you, his hips grinding against yours. You were putty in his hands, a complete and utter idiot. But you didn’t care. 

The kiss didn’t last very long before he was pulling back and staring deep into your eyes. 

“You don’t want me?” He narrowed his eyes on you. “You want me to leave?” 

You swallowed, trying to muster the strength to tell him to go, to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t. 

Instead you quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him back in for another kiss. And if you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn he was smirking into your lips. 

Soon enough he was manoeuvring you away from the wall and over to your bed. His lips remained on yours, deepening the kiss as he went. You felt the back of your calves hit the bed but Spencer kept you upright with his hold still on your arms. 

He moved his hands now, fingertips grazing down the sides of your rib cage, lower and lower until they reached the hem of your tank top. He hooked his fingers in the fabric and started raking it up your body. 

He pulled back from the kiss, his lips puffy and swollen, and you raised your arms for him to lift the top the rest of the way off. He tossed it aside quickly and your hands found the ends of his tie, still hanging around his neck. 

You used it to pull him back in for another kiss and then started on the buttons of his shirt. He shrugged his jacket off in the meantime and let it hit the floor. 

You got him out of his shirt and it joined the other clothes on the floor. And then he pushed you back to the bed until your back collided with the mattress. 

He regarded you with his dark eyes and a sinful smirk before crawling on the bed, kneeling either side of your hips. He laid on top of you, hissing at the contact from your bare chests. 

He stroked your hair lovingly back off of your face in a stark contrast to his previous roughness. But it only lasted a moment as soon he was kissing you again with renewed fervour. 

He grinded his hips against yours, relishing in the feeling of being able to get hard again. He should have known it wasn’t his meds. He should have known you’d be the cure. 

His lips left yours and peppered kisses along your jawline. Your head rolled back to allow him access to your neck. In kind he moved lower, lips sucking against the skin on the front of your throat. 

Your hands wandered to his shoulder blades, nails kneading the muscles while he moved on to place kisses all along your collarbones. 

Soon they ebbed lower, lips leaving their trail over the tops of your breasts and then down your sternum. 

He circled back to place a deep kiss on the swell of your breast before you felt his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple. 

You moaned as he took the bud in his mouth, teeth grazing your peak, teasingly nibbling it. You arched your back, toes curling. 

He sucked and nipped for a few moments before offering the same treatment to your other nipple. You were writhing beneath him on the bed, wanton moans and breathy pants leaving your parted lips. 

A few more strategically placed kisses between your breasts and he was continuing his journey down your stomach, around your belly button and then across each hip. 

You were rolling your hips up to meet him, desperate for more. He smirked against your skin, knowing he was driving you crazy but that was part of the fun. 

He looked up at you through his hair which had now fallen into his face, while he placed kisses along the waistband of your cotton shorts. 

You’d moved to grip his shoulders and were not so subtly trying to push him lower. 

“Use your words, princess.” He spoke against your shorts. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.” You whined. 

“Do I?” He teased. “I think you might have to spell it out for me.” 

He sat back a few inches, his large hands now on your thighs and parting them so he could kneel between them. 

Your pupils were blown out as you looked up at him, face flushed red with your arousal. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please, what?” He was enjoying this. He was enjoying this too much. 

“Please go down on me. Please, Spencer? God I missed your mouth between my legs.” 

He made the most animalistic sound, closing his eyes and feeling his cock throb painfully. When he opened his eyes again you were staring right at him, begging him with your gaze. 

“Oh how I have missed being between your legs.” He lowered himself again, kissing along your stomach once more whilst tugging at the hem of your shorts.

You arched your back again to aid him pulling them down your legs, the wet patch left behind in the fabric making Spencer feral. 

He balled up the garment and brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply and moaning as the scent of your arousal encompassed him. 

“Is this all for me, angel?” He smirked, dropping the shorts on the floor. 

“Of course,” you nodded, hooking your legs over his shoulders. “Only ever for you, Spence.” 

“Such a good girl for me.” He rewarded you by placing a kiss on your inner thigh. “Who do you belong to?” 

“Y-you.” You stuttered, desperate for him. 

“Good girl.” He repeated and kissed the inside of your other thigh. “Who’s better in bed, angel? Me or that pumped up frat boy?”

“You are!” You whined. “No one’s better than you.” 

“You really are such a good girl for me, Y/N.” He smiled, kissing slightly higher on your thigh. 

“So g-good.” You agreed. “P-please?” 

“Well, since you did ask so nicely.” He bowed his head, blowing air between your legs and making you squirm. 

He lifted one arm and pressed his forearm over your hips, holding you in place. And then his tongue cautiously swiped through your silken folds. 

He collected your arousal on his tongue, moaning at how good you tasted. You whimpered and your eyes fell shut, blindly reaching out until you found his head and threaded your fingers into his locks. 

You dug your nails into his roots when he found purchase on your clit. He swiped his tongue back and forth over your sensitive bud a couple of times before wrapping his lips around it. 

He suckled on you, tongue jutting out every so often to add to the pleasure. You tugged at his hair, grinding against his face, needing more. 

He smiled against you, his free hand edging up your thigh. You felt two long, nimble fingers press against you. 

He glanced up at you through his lashes and he saw your eyes squeezed tightly shut and a few tears forcing their way out. 

He continued to lap over your clit while he pushed his two digits inside of you. He growled against you, he’d almost forgotten how good you felt. The way you stretched around his fingers was heaven, and suddenly he couldn’t wait to feel it around his cock again. 

He’d had every intention of bringing you to orgasm like this and he knew it wouldn’t take a lot. But as he fingered you, his digits moving deftly in and out of your throbbing cunt, he simply couldn’t wait any longer. 

He pulled his mouth away from you, causing your eyes to suddenly open. He kept his fingers inside of you, stretching you as much as he could in preparation.

“Why’d you stop?” You whimpered, tears staining your face. 

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” His fingers brushed against your cervix and you shuddered and moaned. “I’m sorry, I need to be inside of you so badly.”

“Ok.” You nodded. “Please?” 

He kissed your hip bones whilst scissoring his fingers inside of you a few more times. His other hand worked on the button of his slacks. 

When he removed his fingers you whined again, feeling horribly empty. Spencer sat back so he could shimmy off his pants and underwear before laying back down on top of you. 

His hard member found its way between your legs and he moved back and forth through your slick a few times. He bowed his head to kiss you, cupping your jaw tenderly. 

“You’re not on birth control are you?” He spoke against your lips. 

“I am now, I started on the pill.” You replied. 

What you didn't say was that you’d gone on it because of his own paranoia. He’d somehow transferred his obsession with birth control onto you. He’d told you condoms were ninety eight percent effective, eighty five when factoring in human error. The pill, as you’d researched, was over ninety nine percent effective when taken at the same time every day, which you did religiously. 

“Great.” He swallowed thickly, sitting back between your parted legs. 

He held the base of his shaft and lined himself up with your desperate hole. 

“I have condoms though.” You frowned up at him. 

“I want to do this. I want to feel you, really feel you.” He insisted. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Did you use protection with him?” 

“Yes.” You nodded. 

“Then I’m sure.” He nodded although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. 

He did want this, more than anything, but that didn’t take away his fear of getting you pregnant. Realistically he knew the pill was incredibly safe, and the likelihood of you getting pregnant was very low. He couldn’t help but be paranoid. 

But he wanted this, needed this. He wanted to take your relationship to a level he never thought he’d experience again. He wanted to be sheathed inside of you with no barrier, nothing between his cock and your throbbing walls. 

“I will warn you I have not had unprotected sex in a very long time and I’m already dangerously close so if this doesn’t last long…” 

“I don’t care.” You rolled your hips against him. “Please, Spencer?” 

He nodded, taking a breath to stem his nerves. Keeping hold of the base of his cock he slowly pushed his way inside of you, his eyes rolling back in his head the second he inched passed your entrance. 

The sounds emanating from his lips could only be described as sinful. He was careful in his movements, disappearing inside of you inch by painful inch. 

It felt like coming up for air. Being inside of you like this was the most incredible feeling of his whole life. He could feel every tiny movement of you stretching around his heavy length, the smallest fluttering of your walls.

He bottomed out inside of you and collapsed on top of you, nuzzling his face against your neck and breathing heavily. 

“There are no words in any human language to describe what that feels like.” He spoke into your skin. “You're definitely on the pill?”

“One hundred percent.” You confirmed, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Good,” he lifted his head enough to look you in the eyes. “Because I want nothing more than to come inside of you.” 

You moaned deeply and he felt you clench around him. His hips bucked involuntarily. 

“P-please,” you nodded. “Please I want you to come inside me.” 

He pushed himself back up, his hands either side of your face. You wrapped your own hands around his biceps, squeezing him to encourage him to move. 

He started slowly, not wanting this feeling to end too soon. He pulled back almost all the way before leisurely sinking back inside of you. 

He stared down on you, not breaking eye contact as he moved in and out of you. He was already close and he didn’t want this to end so soon so he continued his slow thrusts. 

With each one his blunt head nudged against your bundle of nerves, and elicited a deep moan from your lungs. He was panting and grunting, closing his eyes briefly every time you clenched around his bare dick. 

At that moment he had never felt so intrinsically connected to someone. He felt like he’d become a part of you and you him. Your body was simply an extension of his own. 

He could feel so much, he’d forgotten what it was like to be like this, it was a feeling he wanted to last forever. 

He’d never been so raw and exposed with another person and for a while that was the most wonderful feeling. But as he felt his orgasm start to build in the pit of his stomach, another unwelcome sensation joined it.

What the fuck am I doing? 

He closed his eyes as an onslaught of emotions erupted inside of him. The voice of a woman he’d had a one night stand with telling him she was pregnant. Falling in love with a woman who could so easily tear apart the life they’d built together like it was a house of cards. 

Spencer I’m keeping this baby whether you want to be a part of its life or not. 

Spencer I’ve been having an affair. 

Spencer, this is Bobby, my boyfriend. 

Why is mommy leaving? 

Why doesn’t she want to live with us anymore? 

“Can’t do this.” He mumbled, his movements slowing ever further. 

“Huh?” You panted squeezing his biceps. “I’m close Spence, don’t stop.” 

“Can’t do this.” He repeated, his eyes snapping open. 

He stared down at you again, stilling his movements completely. A look of remorse washed over him and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” He withdrew you, physically and mentally. 

You whined when he pulled out, sitting up and frowning at him. 

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, head hazy with your impending orgasm of which you’d been denied. 

“I can’t do it.” He moved off the bed, getting to his feet, ignoring the fact his cock was still standing at attention. 

“So we’ll use a condom.” You stared at his back. 

“No, it’s not just that.” He turned back to you, eyes full of sorrow. “I should go.” 

“What? Why?” You pulled the sheet around your body feeling exposed although Spencer didn’t seem to notice he was still naked. 

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry. I can’t do this Y/N.” 

“Do what?” 

“This. Us. It’s not going to work is it? We know that.” 

“How do we know that?” You frowned at him. 

“Have you just completely forgotten that we want different things? That hasn’t changed.” He shrugged, finding his boxers on the floor and pulling them on now as his dick started to soften with his overwhelming emotions. 

“You came to me. You came to me, not the other way around. You come here and tell me you love me and sleep with me and now you’re saying this?” You were incredulous. 

You jumped out of bed, quickly throwing your clothes back on while Spencer did the same. He didn’t button his shirt properly but he didn’t care or notice. 

“I can’t do this, I can’t bring someone into my girls lives when it’s not going to work out. They’ve already been hurt by one woman, I can’t have them be hurt by another.” He raised his voice a little, stuffing his tie in his pocket. 

“They have or you have?” You scoffed. “Let’s be honest here, Spencer. This isn’t about your kids, it’s about you.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “No it’s not.” 

“Maeve hurt you, I get it. But not everyone is like that.” You tried to reason with him but he kept shaking his head. 

“I’ve known you for all of five minutes Y/N, I knew her for thirteen years. If someone can hurt another person that way after over a decade of marriage and two children then who’s to say you couldn’t do the same?” He spat, pushing his hair back from his face. 

“So this is about you.” 

“No,” he frowned. “What is meant is, if someone can hurt their own daughters that way, who’s to say a stranger couldn’t do it too.” 

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. “You’re scared Spencer and I understand that. What Maeve did to you was horrible, I can’t even begin to imagine what that was like for you. But you have to have faith that not everyone is out to hurt you.” 

“Faith?” He scoffed, his expression indignant. “I have to have faith? Faith in another human being not to hurt my girls the way their own mother hurt them?” 

“Spencer, come on. This isn’t just about them and you know it!” You yelled, getting frustrated by his deflection.

“You don’t get it.” He growled. “You don’t get it because you don’t have kids.” 

“Kids are tough. They bounce back quicker. It’s adults that are the vulnerable ones. We’re the ones that hang onto those losses, that feel the pain longer. I’m not doubting for a second that your wife hurt them when she left and I am not saying they probably aren’t still harbouring some kind of feelings about it. But they are buoyant and you’ve let yourself drown.” You folded your arms over your chest, shaking a head a little in disappointment. 

You saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his eyes darkened again and it didn’t at all take you by surprise when he stepped forward and grabbed you roughly by the arm. 

“You don’t know anything,” he was really close to you, spitting his words right in your face. “You don’t have kids, you don’t get it. You don’t get to tell me what my kids are going through. You don’t get to tell me what I’m going through. You don’t know my girls, and you don’t know me.” He shook you by the arm but you wouldn’t show him your fear. 

“You think I don’t know you? Oh please.” You scoffed, his grip on you getting firmer, blunt fingernails pressing into the previous marks he’d left behind. 

“You know the things I’ve actively shown you. You know the side of me I am willing for you to see. You don’t know me. Not the real me.” He growled, spittal flying from his lips. 

“I know you.” You spat back. “I know you’re scared of being vulnerable, terrified of letting someone close to you because you were hurt in a way no one should ever have to be hurt by someone they love. You built up walls to protect your heart from another beating. You use your kids as an excuse not to let anyone in. Because deep down you are petrified of getting your heart broken again. So you’re pushing me away because you think it’ll be easier than giving me a chance to hurt you.”

His eyes were practically black now, his pupils and irises bleeding together in his anger. His grip on you was so tight it was starting to hurt but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him as much. 

“You don’t know shit. You think because you're getting your doctorate in psychology that you can read me? If that’s the best you’ve got you’ve got a lot to learn.” He let go of you now, turning away from you. “This isn’t up for debate Y/N. This was a mistake, I shouldn’t have come here and now I’m leaving.”

“Coward,” you spat. “Fucking coward.” 

He spun back to you, eyes somehow even darker than before. 

“Fuck you.” He replied childishly. 

“You’d rather be alone and miserable than be with someone you love on the off chance you might get hurt? That’s pretty cowardly Spencer.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I only told you I loved you to get you into bed?” A menacing smirk blossomed on his lips. “You said it yourself, I couldn’t get you into bed fast enough when we met. I was touch starved, I needed to get laid. I would have said just about anything to get in your pants.”

“That’s not true.” You shook your head meekly. 

“It most certainly is true, Y/N.” He chuckled darkly.

“You’re lying.” You whimpered. 

“Am I?” He clucked. “Do you really believe that?” 

“If that’s true you are exceptionally cruel.” Your eyes misted over with tears. 

“Like I said, you don’t know me. Maybe I’m just a cruel person.” He shrugged, taking a few steps backwards. 

“I hope one day you wake up and realise you made a huge mistake.” You snarled at him. “I hope you wake up and it hurts, it hurts everywhere. It hurts because you threw away a chance at real happiness. I hope that day comes and I hope you track me down to tell me how much it fucking hurts. Just so I can say, respectfully Doctor Reid, go burn in hell.” 

You stormed past him, flinging the door open and glaring at him angrily. His expression faltered a little, the darkness in his eyes fading.

“Y/N I…”

“Leave.” You motioned to the open door. “Get out of my apartment you asshole.” 

He clenched his jaw, feeling a tightness spread to chest. It was as though he had been possessed for a moment, like something else had taken over his body. Now he looked at you, the pain behind your eyes, he wanted to take back every single word he hadn’t meant to say. 

“I don’t think that I-”

“Don’t care.” You cut him off. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t care. I am done listening to you now. Get the fuck out of my apartment and don’t even think about coming back here. You might have saved yourself and your kids the pain but you have shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces Spencer Reid. I hope you’re fucking happy.” 

“Y/N…”

“Go!” You yelled. “Now! Or I’ll call the cops.” 

Spencer clenched his jaw again, rhythmically grinding his rear molars together to try and stem any tears that might threaten to fall. He gave you one last look before he nodded and headed past you through the open door. 

Seconds later, before he even made it to your front door, he heard the bedroom one slam, so loudly the walls shook. 

And he knew before he even got to the door that he was going to leave here, find a bar and get so drunk he may never wake up. 

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @shamelessfangirl-3 @redbulldinner @derekm24

@pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @hades-disappointment-child @weirdothatwritess

[lalunanymph]

sniffles lemme be delusional for a bit and imagine what it would be like if gojo came back home after shibuya.

gojo who faced death right in the eye and was reborn for the second time in his short life.

before everything that happened with suguru, his only wish was to go on his own path, and create his own fate. not the one his parents wanted or the higher ups envisioned for him.

he wanted a life of simplicity. domesticity. starting the day beside you in the early mornings; cooking pancakes, getting the baby dressed up and sending the other 2 kids to school.

so, when he finally opens his eyes, back in jujutsu high, gojo makes a decision. he can't imagine living if it was not with you.

gojo who teleports back to the upscale penthouse he bought just for you, fortified to protect his most priceless person from any evil in his world wanting to harm her.

gojo who stumbles pass the door, still in his sticky, soiled clothes from the battle. he sees you on the couch, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

he knows he must look like a madman to you right now; blood streaking his face, some of it still on his hands, but you had never looked this beautiful to him before.

dressed in one of his sleep shirts with your bare legs tucked under you, you slowly stand up, and gojo swears the first time you say his name, a choir of angels could've proclaimed it.

"satoru?"

he nearly collapses to the floor, but summons the last bit of strength to push himself into your arms. you catch him, not minding the blood, or the gore. all you want to do is hold him close, cradle him tight enough until the horrors disappear.

"i'm so sorry," he says into your shoulder, and for the first time, he's crying—he's allowing himself to cry. "i should've been stronger. i should've came back sooner, i—"

"you're here," you whisper, and though you do not know the extent of how terrifying it is to be a sorcerer, you can taste gojo's anxiety; his self-hatred. "you're here and that's enough."

"i couldn't save them."

"ssh."

"it's my fault."

"satoru, it's not—"

"i should've been the one who died."

"satoru." you grip his face, and he finds tears in your eyes, too. pressing your forehead to his, you take his cheeks in your hands.

for the first time, the strongest was at his weakest, and you were all too prepared to nurture his broken pieces back to fullness.

"satoru, you did your best. you did your best and that's all that matters."

he knows you don't understand his world fully, and yet, your words were exactly what he needed.

"i'm sorry, pumpkin."

"why?" your soft voice was a soothing balm for him. "why're you apologizing to me?"

"for never giving you the life we wanted."

gojo is a strong man, but he is still a man. he still had regrets, anger, sadness, despair and frustrations. just because someone was born into greatness didn't mean they were exempted from the human experience.

they were still born into this terrifying, dark yet beautiful world, after all.

you laugh, a short little miserable sound that tugged on his heartstrings. "any life with you is perfect enough, satoru."

and gojo kisses you. he kisses you until you can't breathe, until your heartbeats sync as one. he brings you back to the bedroom, and under the sacred, watchful eye of the moon, he makes love to you, wanting to feel human again; to be human again.

every touch, every caress and whisper of his name grounds him back to safety. your presence was an anchor he sorely needed.

as he makes you cum around his cock for the third time tonight, gojo presses his sweaty forehead onto yours, tasting your sweet exhale of his name.

"satoru—"

"forever," he whispers, in a strained, low tone. his cock feels too good, and his next words are positively euphoric. "forever and ever. just us, baby. wha'dya say? we'll run away from this stupid town, this stupid life. we'll raise a bunch of kiddos and you can be my wifey. wha'dya say?"

and gojo knows his life is limited; his destiny was already co-written by the cruel hands of his family's legacy. but he yearns and pines and stupidly wishes things were different. that he was anyone other than gojo satoru.

but he doesn't care about his own name, about his own existence, not when you smile and cradle his face in your hands again.

"i already said it before 'toru—any life with you is perfect enough. i'd rather have half of you than none of you."

gojo gives a strained laugh. half of him. wait till he told you the full story.

"okay," he murmurs, kissing you on the nose. "i'll give us the life we both deserve, baby. you know i will."

"i know," you hum. "you're satoru. my satoru. and i love you."

not gojo satoru. not the strongest. not the man who has the entire world on his shoulders.

just your satoru.

©️ lalunanymph.

[stripedstarsblueflags]

i feel so high school (au) pt. 5.C: pierresteban

anyway here are some high school aus for my fav f1 rpf ships and an exploration of who knows how to ball, and who knows aristotle

(pierresteban continued)

ANYWAY so after that particular dance both of their heads are just like !!??!!??!! until finally they're both outside the studio and esteban starts walking away immediately and pierre– actually yknow what i'm gonna write a bit how the conversation more or less goes

p: hey. esteban. ESTIE!

e (whirling around): don't FUCKING call me that! .... what?!

p: hey, can... can we talk?

e (mind exploding in anger and frustration and confusion and need to retreat): i have nothing to say to you. –– and i need to catch the bus.

p: this late?

e (scoffs): yeah, sorry, my lexus is in the shop.

p: i can give you a ride...

and because esteban is shellshocked and not thinking straight and tired and fine maybe he's weak to his own stupid imagination he says yes. and esteban can't decide if it's creepy or achingly sweet that pierre remembers where his house is and doesn't make a single wrong turn or ask for directions once. and then they just sit in the parked car far enough down the street that esteban's parents couldn't see and just stare straight ahead and the silence stretches on with everything they haven't said confessed screamed at each other for years until pierre just mumbles in the most broken voice esteban has heard since they were kids and pierre's dog died

he tells esteban what happened, why he missed school. what he lost.

and the conversation is awkward and hesitant and walking on broken glass because they haven't had an actual sit-down conversation alone for years but esteban knows instinctively like this is killing him. after all this time i'm still the only person he trusts with the fractured pieces of his heart and he has to fucking tell someone because this is destroying him inside and maybe he just reaches out and puts his hand on the console in between the seats so it's there if pierre wants it and pierre does

pierre just reaches over and closes his eyes and takes esteban's hand and squeezes it and they're both pretending like pierre's face isn't shining with tears that glint in the flickering street lights and there's more silence but this time it's different, it feels like they're both thinking the exact same thing but both too scared

e: it's getting late...

p: yeah, yeah, sorry. you should probably go. (draws his hand away)

e: looks down at his own empty hand, then at the car door handle: yeah.

[waiting]

before he can chicken out esteban leans over and kisses pierre on the cheek before he says goodnight and then he gets out of the car

and in the following weeks they don't know how to talk to each other but they both know that something's going on, there's a spark catching and they're both terrified of the light but irrepressibly drawn to the heat. maybe they both sign up for an hour or so of empty studio time a week to practice and maybe there's only one studio available that late at night and they both know it. maybe they do more partner routines maybe they do the same choreo maybe they watch each other in the mirror for a little too long. pierre drives esteban home every week and then it gets to the point where he picks esteban up from class even on the days pierre doesn't have class himself and they start finding places around town that become their places just at night. places they remember. a park, a 7-11, a hiking trail, a waffle house (because nothing says teenage queer romance like waffle house)

esteban gets selected for the solo routine in that year's recital and the first time he practices his routine on stage/in full costume it's just him and pierre and pierre watches cross-legged from the very edge of the stage and when esteban finally finished pierre stands up and he's openly crying, and esteban's out of breath and dizzy from dancing his fucking heart out and he just gasps like, "what?" because even after everything he's never seen pierre look at him like that and pierre just shakes his head in shock and awe and murmurs, "you're beautiful"

we all know what happens after that

[angeltreasure]

Ceclilia here, hope your retreat went wonderfully! I've been in a rough patch the last week and a half. You see, I visited a certain group of religious sisters, and felt that God had finally shown me where I was meant to enter. I call back about a week afterwards, as per instructions so the discerning women could think on their experiences. I called, going over everything, and when I say I want to take the next step and visit again following their rule, the vocations director stopped me dead in my tracks. She told me that because of my past, specifically my parents divorce, that I should stop discerning religious life and heal from those wounds. However, her phrasing while well intended came off as though my journey was disingenuous and that I wasn't coming from God's call but rather running from the vocation to marriage. It felt like a knife to the heart. Sure, I was willing to look into resources, which she pointed me to Life Giving Wounds, but that website aside from the book that I purchased which is still shipping are not resonating with my experience, like, my experience does not line up with anything there. Also it feels like she didn't mean to be mean, but it hurt nonetheless and she had to get off the phone because of another obligation. Now comes today, she called me, left a message that she was going into isolation for final vows come August, and to not contact her about discerning for a while, even after we'd already planned a day for me to contact her. She also said to halt discernment all together and deal with the divorce first, acting as though I were broken trash, like I wasn't good enough to be a sister despite my circumstances. It made me lose my mind, shake my heart, I'll admit I cried and couldn't get control until I was numb, make me feel my journey is dishonest, that God hadn't called me, and that it's all in my head and how dare I even assume God would want a mess like me. Sure, God doesn't lie, but at the same time I'm trying to trust Him and not fight for once, be a bride like He said, and all the stuff He seemed to plan for me is falling apart. Am I not good enough, do these Sisters know that God thinks I'm a failure, how dare I even bother to try? Does He want me to lament and cry, does he delight in my heart breaking? I'm just very lost, it feels the fire inside me has died, the Holy Spirit feels as though He left me too, and that God just threw me away like I don't matter. I don't know what to do, I can't hear Him like I usually can either. I'm going to talk to my spiritual director Saturday, but I'm worried I'm beyond help. Is this gonna happen anytime I mention my upbringing, should I even try to keep going? Biblically and logically I know God doesn't give up, and that even with the 99 sheep He looks for the lost one, but am I just a ram like at the end times who'll be cast into eternal fire because I can't do what He wants hard enough? Or that everything I've done since coming back to the Faith a lie. I'm just frustrated and distraught. God Bless and love you Sister Angel.

Hi Cecilia!,

My retreat went good, but I felt in my heart I didn’t get as much out of it as the first two I went to, perhaps because I have so much knowledge now of what to expect. I’m so sorry you went through that! I know that one of the nuns I met chose on her own to go to some therapy of some sort before entering, realizing she had some healing to do. I’m also a product of divorced parents. I still remember the day they came into my room and told me, right as I started middle school. It tore my heart in two and I had suffering from it for a while but Jesus showed me His Sacred Heart has a place for me to rest in. Because our parents divorced, it does not make us illegitimate children of faith, the Catholic Church recognizes that the marriage of our moms and dads was valid at one point in the past that it brought us to life. Our Sacraments to this day are still valid and you are still a Child of God, like me, when we are in a state of grace. I want you to know something my mom told me recently, my questions of discernment where in my heart too, when I wonder if I am worthy, after these spiritual attacks. She said no one can officially decide our vocation for us, it is our decision alone in our heart to make. ‘God will love you just as much whether you enter religious life, be married, stay single, etc, and not to let anyone’s words get you down.’ It is a big decision to join religious life and a lot of sacrifice for sure, but when we surrender it all to Jesus, if we choose that vocation, He gives it back fifty and hundredfold. Sometimes, God allows us to feel this desert moments in life not punish us, but rather, to make us realize we can do nothing without Him and the help of His grace. These desert times are important to slow down and deepen our efforts in prayer, because God is making you stronger like shaping gold in a fire. Even St. Teresa of Calcutta felt this dark night of the soul for forty years! You are not alone. None of us our worthy, but look only to His Word to see that God loves us who are unworthy ones. You are never beyond help. It is okay to cry and slow down, take some deep breaths, and see you are loved by Psalm 139….

Everything will be okay, do not be afraid.

[sireditsalot4]

Under the desk care

Summary: Its 12 in the morning and the hospital is slow, super slow and short staffed with only a few doctors and nurses. You been seeing a lot of irritation in Reed lately and couldn't find time to help her relax until now.

Pairing: G!P!Reed Adamson x Reader

A/N: finally catching up to asks so if you want to send one go ahead.

Something about today was odd, it just wasn’t a regular day with doctors flying everywhere and nurses scattering, bodies on gurneys being wheeled in. It was slow, quiet and even understaffed and also raining. Something that added to Reed’s annoyance-

“God, can it get any wetter?” She asks looking through the glass sliding door. She watches the rain fall and puddle near the curb of the street. “Ummm, I don’t, I don’t think water can get any wetter?” You retort. Reed rolls her eyes and turns to look at you. “Please, don’t start with me right now.” your girlfriend shakes her head. “I’m sorry baby. Why are you so cranky? What’s wrong?” You ask, you’re starting to become a little worried. “I’m just a little bent up right now: Doctor Shepherd was getting on me all day yesterday. No matter what I did or how u did it he would find a way to get mad even at the slightest mistakes,” Totally knowing what she’s going through you can understand her frustrations.

When you first started Doctor Shepherd or should you say, the both of them tackled and harassed you for weeks. That was when you got started tho, “Don’t take it so personal babe. They’re like that.” Coming up to her you rub her shoulders trying to release whatever tension you can from her. A few hours gone by with only a patient with a broken leg and soon it went back to being boring as usual.

Walking to where your girlfriend is sitting at the receptionist desk, looking around to see if anyone was around, you check the area of the desk to see the wall caging her in against the desk, only leaving room for her to scoot back or in. Under the desk is narrow enough and wide enough. You have an idea.

“Hey babe, how do you feel? Better hopefully?” You put your folders down on the desk and look around one more time. Luckily this reception desk was at the far end of the hospital and on the second floor.

“Not better but, better than before.” she says typing. “Thanks for asking- what?” Watching you come over and push her chair back she stops in confusion and watches as you sink to your knees, back up underneath the desk and pull her chair forward. “What are you doing?!” She hissed. Some veins popped out “We can get caught.” Reed looks around to see if anyone is around and jumps when you hook your fingers inside of the waistband of her trousers and boxers. She bites her lips when she feels herself being freed and getting taken by your hands. Grabbing her hips you scootch her down a tad. "Please, please be quick." A dark chuckle escapes you. 'No problem.' Taking your time, you love the way she squirms when she’s under pressure, you slowly work your way up and down, the light casting in from above wasn't great, but you didn't need light to feel how hard and pulsating she was for you already. She has told you multiple times you get her like this, and you believed her just didn't know it would only take a few seconds just from the slightest touches.

"God, babe, please stop teasing. I really need this- Uh!" She lets out a cry but quickly covers it with the back of her hand as you finally take her in. You kiss and lick the tip taking your time as pre-cum start to leak out. You can feel her pulsate against your lips and feel arousal rush between your own legs. Something you will handle later...

"I need," She whimpers. You hum against her and feel her buck up from her seat. The rush from getting caught sent a shiver down your spine. "What do you need, baby?" you tease. "I need your mouth. I need to be in it." That made you tighten up and without further teasing you opened your mouth. "Fuck..." Reed sees a nurse coming, 'great' and tried to straighten up to look a little decent. "Hi. How are you? The rain is awful tonight," the nurse slams her folders down in annoyance and you jump, the impact causing you to get scared and hit your head. Thump! "What was that?" The nurse asks eyeing the desk. Reed shifts and coughs, "Me. Sorry, you scared me." She grips the edge of the desk as she feels herself getting closer. Bucking up, she thrusts a little too hard and hits the back of your throat causing you to cough a bit- Reed hears and tries to cover it up with her own. “Patient I have is having a melt down and so I needed to come out here for his medication chart,” the woman ruffles through some folders and papers and takes out a clipboard. “See you around.” The nurse waves.

“See you around…fuck!” She bites the back of her forefinger and cries one last time before cumming, spilling everything she has inside your mouth and down your throat. You happily swallow everything and put her back into her boxers, and scoot her chair back. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. That was-” she wipes her palms on her bottoms before pushing her chair back more to give you room. Luckily the camera in this section of the hospital were down due to the rain. “Thank you. I feel a lot better.” Coming up on your feet she rises and kisses you, entering her tongue and tasting herself in your mouth. You’re always happy to lend a hand.

[maryrebeccawrites]

My Childhood Crush is a Selkie

See all available chapters here.

Chapter Five: Melancholic

My melancholy ate away like a dry rot. I consoled myself that he would leave before I knew it, and I could finally put this all away with at least a small sense of closure.

I did my best not to speculate about his new job and new life. He had been a bit cryptic about it all, which probably meant he was going to some lavish place to teach surfing lessons. It didn't matter anyway. Summer would be gone, and once again, so would he.

I busied myself with domestic tasks over my weekend. I did laundry and prepared meals for the week and scrubbed my sinks and my shower until the skin on my fingers cracked despite the humidity.

I swam a lot, about twice a day, but I didn't go to my little hidden cove where I had seen him. Instead, I drove to a farther beach with greater stretches of sand and anonymity. I didn't like that beach nearly as much as my own, but the Atlantic was the same, and the bracing saltwater was like a numbing balm that day.

I stayed in until I couldn't feel my skin. I let the salt scrape over my wounds and clean them out without a sting.

I tried not to think about Del's father, Edward Lennox, but it was difficult not to. He hadn't always been so neglectful.

A small sliver of memory revealed the day I had broken the chain on my favorite bicycle. I had been riding by, hoping to see Del. We didn't live in a residential neighborhood. All the houses on our road had been separated by thick mixtures of deciduous and coniferous forest, but the Lennoxes only lived about a half a mile away.

We were both only children, and our desire for companionship had brought us together outside the confines of the classroom, under which we were usually separate.

I remembered how disappointed I had been on that hot summer day, learning that Del had gone to visit his grandparents for the week. I was not someone who became easily bored, but I did become restless and lonely, even at the age of nine. My parents had already started leaving me home alone for long stretches of time.

I think Edward had seen that on my face. He informed me that he had just made a whole batch of cookies the day prior, and he had put them in the freezer. He was planning on making some homemade ice cream sandwiches for Del's return, but he could certainly spare a few.

I had been so upset by Del's absence that I had said my little no thank you and begun to peddle away, when the chain on my bicycle broke. In my frustration over my bicycle and my loneliness, neither of which I really understood the mechanics of, I had started to cry.

Mr. Lennox hadn't just fixed my bicycle for me. He had taught me how to fix it myself. And then we sat on the patio and ate frozen cookies together while he asked me about my summer plans and discussed the different varieties of dragonflies around us.

I saw the empty glass bottles in the lawn, but I didn't really understand their significance. My own father, forever disappointed about my gender and the fact that my mother couldn't have any more biological children, never would have shown his daughter how to fix a bicycle.

My own father never would have baked cookies, and he certainly wouldn't have thought to use them for ice cream sandwiches. My father did not care about dragonflies.

When I told Del about it later, he claimed that I had seen him on one of his good days, which were becoming few and far between. About a year later, there weren't many good days left at all. Edward was fired from his job dredging for oysters and scallops, and he spent most of his days in bed.

"I think he's always waiting for Mom," Del had told me. Del's mother, from what little I knew, was not returning. Del didn't even know her name, because any mention brought his father such immense pain. "I think he'll always be waiting for her."

Over time, Del began to take better care of himself, because he needed to. It was strange how similar yet opposite our homes were. Both of our mothers had left, when it was far more common to experience an absentee father, especially in our small town.

On the other hand, my father was a corporate lawyer. My mother had been a successful defense attorney. We never lacked money or food. But my parents would never look at me the way Edward looked at Del.

Even when he was many, many drinks in, he would still look at Del like he was the most precious thing in the world. On Del's behalf, I had grown so angry with Edward when I was little, but I understood a little now. I understood that alcoholism was a disease. I understood that even if it was his responsibility to get better and take proper care of his son, it wasn't all his fault. I understood that my own parents had no such excuse.

In the waves of the freezing sea, much farther out than I should have been, I tried to let all those wounds go cold and clean as well, but some cuts are just a little too deep.

🌊🌊🌊

It was a Thursday, and Sophie had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since returning from lunch. I wasn't one for prying, but she was starting to worry me. We finally had a lull in customers, and I turned my head to her as I rearranged the earring display. "What's wrong?"

It wasn't tactful, but it was effective.

Her eyebrows hiked, obviously unaware of the little storm cloud that appeared to be over her head. "Oh, it's really nothing.

Ruth just texted again about stopping the sales. I just... I thought I might have some kind of future working at this place, you know?

"You should just start your own place, honestly," I said.

She let out a little laugh. "What, and compete with business here?"

"Please, you'd blow her out of the water. It's not like you signed a non-compete agreement, right?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I just don't know where I'd start the business or how I'd even afford it."

I was about to offer a myriad of ideas, and she must have seen them coming, because she waved her hand. "Let's just not talk about this right now, okay?

I put my hands up.

But she still continued to look very, very deep in thought.

"There's something else, isn't there?" I asked.

She didn't say anything.

I raised my eyebrows in question.

"I just ran into Quinn during lunch," she said.

My heart thrilled strangely, but not because of Quinn. I waited for Sophie to elaborate. "He invited me to join his crew Saturday night. They're going to be at some cabin he's renting out. I always wonder where his family gets all their money."

"They're probably invested in some really popular cereal brand. Or maybe they dabble in art forgeries," I said. "Best not to ask questions."

Sophie gave a weak smile, but she didn't relent. She was waiting for my real opinion. I sighed.

"You should definitely go. They seem like a fun crew," I said.

"Well, the thing is, Quinn wants you to go as well," Sophie said. "And so do I." The unspoken suggestion, of course, was that Del would be there.

"I'm hanging out with Katrina Saturday night," I said. Katrina was a high school friend that I wasn't that close with anymore, but I was hoping to change that. I had texted her the day after the party. If I was struggling to make new friends, then I might as well strengthen some of my existing friendships. It had been difficult to get a hold of her though. The last time we had tried to arrange something, she had canceled at the last minute.

"Just come Sunday then," Sophie said. "They're going to be there all weekend."

I sighed. "Sophie, you know that I can't. And this isn't just me being antisocial. I really, really can't." In combination with the heat, the stress of the situation was making me sweat, the beads running down my back. I turned up the air conditioning.

"I know it's difficult with Del and everything, but I just think it would be so much fun regardless. Besides, you said that you wouldn't be actively avoiding him. You just don't want to hang out with him one-on-one. That's what you said, right?" Sophie asked, eyes hopeful.

"Sophie," was all I could say. It wasn't really like her to push me like this, but I didn't allow myself to get upset. I knew she was frustrated about Ruth.

"There will be at least seven of us there. Plenty of buffers," Sophie said.

I shook my head vehemently. "I'm afraid this isn't one I can be convinced of."

🌊🌊🌊

Unfortunately, it didn't end up taking much to convince me. Saturday evening rolled around. Sophie had given me the address for the cabin in case I changed my mind, and I had nearly deleted it. But I didn't.

The moment I returned to my apartment, I looked at my phone to see a message from Katrina. She wasn't feeling well and would need to reschedule. I only had the energy to respond okay.

If she was sick, then it wasn't her fault, but I had the sneaking suspicion that she wasn't. I drew all the blinds and stripped off all my clothing and sank into bed. It had been a busy day, and I initially decided to take this as a blessing in disguise.

I didn't need more friendships. I needed rest after an incredibly long day of dealing with entitled customers and trying not to think too much.

I queued up a show on my laptop that was certain to make my mind go blank, but that only worked for a couple of hours. I was facing a wall with an old wooden bookshelf containing rows upon rows of books. In the glow of the laptop, which spilled over most of the room as the sun went lower in the sky, my gaze ran over the titles.

Many of them were about environmental activists and climate change. A few of these were of my own selection, but some were gifts from distant relatives, who latched onto the notion that I was interested in the environment for birthdays and Christmases.

There were also a few from college, which possessed more scientific and legal jargon. One in particular detailed the various laws that currently protected the oceans.

Staring at the books that were supposed to be my future sent a wave of unease through me. They called me back to the days when I was so certain I would be studying environmental law by now. I began to feel sick.

The show I had been watching no longer brought any comfort, and I sat up in bed. It wasn't that I never thought about these things before, but I was often able to shove them to the back of my mind. My current situation pulled everything to the forefront.

I was young, and I was lying in bed on a gorgeous summer evening, letting the minutes pass by, never to return. I knew that feeling guilty wouldn't help anything, but the sudden bite of inadequacy was so deep that I could barely catch my breath. It wasn't just that I wasn't in law school. It was that I wasn't doing anything interesting at all.

It would have been one thing if I had been traveling the world with friends and partying and experiencing the final years of my youth, but I wasn't. I would have no stories to tell. The cold, empty void I'd felt since childhood seemed to yawn within me. It had always been there, and I had simply grown accustomed to it.

I rose to my feet. Lethargy had taken over my limbs and my torso, but I peeled back the blinds. This window revealed the street, and I could see the people bursting from the restaurants and ice cream shops, all of them seemingly blissful in their unity under the golden hour before sunset.

I knew it was a bit of an illusion. Some of those people were just as lonely as I was. It was hard to believe that though.

I didn't know much, but I did know that this couldn't continue like this.

With a sigh, I looked down at my phone. I had no messages. There was no one trying to reach me.

But that wasn't entirely true. There were people trying to reach me, and I was busy pushing them away.

I yanked back the blinds with a wince to allow the sun to gild my little room, which had become a bit of a cave once my urge to clean had passed.

It lit up all the dirty dishes and laundry that had piled up throughout the week, but I tried not to let it make me feel worse.

The loneliness already had me in its grip, filling me with strange desperation as I pulled on a bikini and a white sundress. I brushed my hair and put on earrings and sandals, and I packed some more clothes in a little bag.

I reached down to my phone and opened my chat with Sophie. I'm coming, I texted her.

Maybe I didn't have the energy to have the future I wanted, but I could at least have something, even if it wasn't Del—even if I didn't know exactly what it was. I would still reach for it, at least for once.

[floaroma-sanctuary]

♬ - a friend/best friend memory

I was absolutely terrified. It was my first time ever being in a different region alone, and it was especially scary because this one was one I'd never been to before. I was doing some "study abroad" program for a couple of years. I'd be assisting Professor Jacq in his research until I returned to Professor Birch's side as a Professor's Assistant.

I was sitting under a tree along the edges of the cliffs not far outside of Medali, looking out over the plains and the river. I was 15 and had just broken up with my first ever boyfriend over the phone, long story in and of itself.

Honestly, I couldn't help it. I was heartbroken and sobbing, with only Blaze to comfort me. He was a Combusken at that point, but we were both still so young.

"Hey, what's wrong?" A voice interrupted my sobs.

I looked up, wiping my eyes. When I could see again, I was staring up at a very tall, skinny boy about my age. He had short, messy dyed black hair with red roots and bright brown eyes ringed with black eyeliner. He was tan with smatterings of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His left eye brow had two piercings, and his ears were littered with them all up the edges and in his lobes. He was wearing a baggy black T-shirt with the sleeves torn off, grey ripped skinny jeans with a set of chains looping down, and black combat boots laced loosely. There was a Charcadet hiding behind his legs.

The boy gave me a lopsided grin, flexing his arms. "What? Stunned by how cool I am?"

I couldn't help but laugh. It just burst out of me. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to laugh!"

"'s all good!" He plopped down onto the ground next to me. "So, what's wrong?"

"It's stupid." I wiped my eyes.

"If it's stupid, you wouldn't be crying about it. I'm a complete stranger. Not like I know enough to judge you." He propped his elbow on his knee and his head on his hand, looking at me.

"Well... I started dating this guy not long before I left home, and he just dumped me over the phone... Because he didn't want to date long distance and accused me of cheating on him because I'm so far away. I've never dated anyone before or even kissed someone, so how could I cheat on him?" I shook my head, taking my glasses off to clean them on my shirt before putting them back on.

"Sounds like he's just an insecure dumbass." The boy agreed.

"He is! I don't know what I saw in him!" I shouted in frustration, throwing my hands out. Blaze chirped and draped himself over my lap.

"He doesn't deserve you." He nodded sagely.

"He doesn't, does he?" I laughed, sticking my hand out to him to shake. "I'm Beaumont Rosalba, but you can call me Beau."

"I'm Haven Parrilla. What brings you to Paldea?" He shook my head, that lopsided grin making another appearance.

"I'm here on work study with Professor Jacq. We'll be going up into the pass to study Pokémon found in the caves." I explained, feeling very relaxed around him despite only knowing him for a few minutes.

"Oh, cool! My mom's on that exhibition. Guess we'll be stuck together for a couple of weeks." Haven patted the head of his Charcadet.

"I think I can survive that." I laughed. He elbowed me playfully.

A woman's voice called from the edge of town. "Haven! Come on, it's time for lunch!"

Haven stood and offered me his hand. "Hungry? My mom is a really good cook."

"Yeah, I think I can eat. Thanks." I let him help me up, and we headed back towards Medali, laughing and joking around together. And you know what? I had completely forgotten about some idiot guy back in Hoenn.

[reblogging4thewin]

while I've gotten used to the fact that if I spend any notable amount of time around my family, I'm bound to hear a slur at some point,

What I wasn't really prepared for was for my dad to bring up a traumatic memory as though it were a funny story.

It's like I forgot that's a thing that could happen and has happened before.

It was just an ice-bucket reminder that my parents don't see children as people with valid feelings and bodily autonomy, but as property with no rights. (The posts that make the property analogy are really spot on. I believe I have them under #parenting or #childhood trauma or something like that.)

While I couldn't come up with a suitable analogy, I had to say something - not picking a fight that isn't worthwhile bc his mind won't be changed on this, but in the sense of not just going off to build up the upset-ness until eventually it explodes. No need to hold that stuff inside. It wasn't an argument. He said he got that I felt violated. He still chuckled about it; that little me being upset was 'cute'. He got what I was saying, but he still doesn't *get* it. Saying something, although it made me cry, did release the tension. So that's healthier for me.

I'm fine; just gotta feel and stew for a min. Typing this out helped.

In case you're wondering what in particular (bc it's something I talked about before a lot in some tags):

Remember the viral post a year or so ago ab the girl whose mom cut her hair off as a punishment?

Well imagine she did it just bc she wanted the girl's hair to be short, despite the girl's tears and protests? Imagine the girl's hair grows really slowly and took years to get back to the length it was (shoulder).

I was 11/12.

Like everything else growing up, my feelings didn't matter to them.

My dad's view of the thing is that at some point I must have realized that hair grows back and got over it. Which, entirely misses the point. (and also no - that's so infantilizing. of course it grows back. but it grows back really slowly. it's the betrayal.)

Developing your self, image, and agency are important at that age. But it's the bodily autonomy of it all - that's what makes this traumatic. It's being treated like a barbie doll rather than a person. That's what makes it a hurt that stains.

And sure, when a kid is teenie tiny and can't speak yet - you can dress them in cute little outfits of your choosing and I can see how that is nice. But as they grow into their own personality and are able to articulate things, respect them as a human being damnit.

At what age did I become a human being to them? I think they *started* to see me as one when I was 21 and I studied abroad. Started to.

Are we fully there yet even now, at 29? I think there's been some progress since I moved out - a little less entitlement from their end that they cannot dictate whether/when I spend my free time with them. But, whooo boy was this little trip down memory lane a reminder of things I'd rather not think about this weekend (or ever, really).

We made it....less than 24 hours before this happened. I was planning to leave either Monday night or Tuesday morning. We'll see how things go. Like I told my bf when he asked, concerned, about the length of time I'd be here - I can always leave early if need be. Nothing is stopping me. I have things to pack up, and of course Christmas festivities themselves always go pretty well, so I don't expect a lot of opportunity for unpleasantries.

Not to mention the fact that my dad *likes* to needle people (he likes to bug my mom - sometimes it's all fun and games, but sometimes it's a little twisted imo - like needling the very thing you've been asked not to do. my ex was like that actually - I didn't find out until after leaving my ex how many ways he was like my dad (neither of them ever hit or anything like that - but both have broken an object in frustration or anger before, for example); my mom and I had some good talks at the time (I was 20). digressing again). My dad didn't upset me on purpose here though - he genuinely thinks my being upset about the haircut is a cute, funny memory. But he does things like this, sometimes on purpose, sometimes bumbles into them like this, and then when I get upset, he says I'm bipolar. He didn't say that today at least. When I was a kid, he called me a cry baby. All of the time. (actually he did literally bully me as a kid bc he said I needed to be prepared for what kids in school would do (not like your home is supposed to be a sanctuary or anything); but, while I was in fact bullied by 90% of my peers up until like 10th grade, when I was a little kid my dad was the worse bully of any of them. Every tangent this post reminds me of actually makes things worse tbh. Like, I don't think about this very often anymore, so being reminded of the sadisticness here is...yikes. I have thought a handful of times that it's insane that I even talk to him, but in short bursts most of the time things are cordial.)

This only happened because I mentioned wanting a trim this evening. (My mom is a talented cosmetologist.) In the heat of the moment of this memory, I had to wonder why I ever let her cut my hair again after I turned 18. But she hasn't cut it different from my requests since then or anything (though she did *deny* a request once, but the alternative we went with actually worked out better - so that was more of a mixture of an expertise thing but also a little homophobia sprinkled in but I digress); I guess at some point I came to trust her with it again. Just right now after that interaction with my dad, the feelings were fresh again, even though that was about 18 years ago.

No one else has ever cut my hair, but maybe it would be good if I change that next year. I really only planned to change that if I decide I do in fact want an undercut - since my mom refused to do that. I live less than an hour away, but maybe convenience is a factor too. Idk.

I feel a lot better now actually. He also just randomly came in the room and we had a normal conversation for two mins about making a snowman out of a bottle. So, we're ok for the moment. The weekend goes on.

[wild-karrde]

I cannot tell you how much I have my fingers and toes and all the appropriate appendages crossed that the ship (lol pun intended?) starts to right itself this chapter. I TRUST YOU, but also COME ON WOLFFE AND KAZI. I BELIEVE IN YOOOOOU.

Kazi was tired.

GIRL SAME. But also, the big sister thing of trying to just carry too much while doing nothing to lighten your own emotional load. YEAH. IT WEARS ON YOU until it BREAKS YOU DOWN. And I see that so much in the way Kazi can't hide how hurt she is by Daria. And by how much she hurt Daria.

But it hurt. To see the contempt in her little sister. To bear the responsibility for their broken bond. To know she had hurt Daria—she had hurt her little sister. 

YUP YUP YUP. BIG OUCH.

ALRIGHT. HERE WE GO. CLEARING THE AIR TIME. And OOOOF it is a doozy. Kazi not realizing that she abandoned Daria, Daria feeling like Kazi hated her, and if that was true, then the best thing she could do was to find her someone to love and someone that would care for her where Daria couldn't. Daria not realizing that Kazi upended everything because of her love for her sister, not out of some honor-bound family duty, but because of how much she cares. Years of misunderstanding and missed opportunities all getting dumped out in this garden just AHHHHH IT HURTS AND IS SO GOOD.

“I’m scared, Kazi.” Daria breathed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m scared I’m going to forget those moments. I don’t want to forget when you were alive.”

Well that's just a dagger to the heart. WHEW.

As a seedling required attention, patience, and effort, so too would reconciliation. It wasn’t something that would sprout overnight. It was something they would have to cherish and protect and choose. Over and over again.  So, together, they planted the first seed.

YES GARDEN METAPHORS. YES RECONCILIATION. I LOVE IT ALLLLLL.

AND NOW AN APOLOGY FOR WOLFFE? AND HE SAYS SORRY FIRST? You're spoiling me, Alli. Truly.

AND THEN HE CALLS HER BY HER FIRST NAME??? WE'RE ON A FIRST NAME BASIS??? AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Most people claimed crying was cathartic, a pleasant release of emotions. Not for her. Crying was humiliating. Draining. She hated the uncontrollable sensation of sobs wracking her spine and clawing their way from her lungs. She hated the headache it always spurned.  Most of all, though, she hated crying in front of others. She hated knowing they could see.

I swear to GOD Kazi is VERY ME at times, and this is one of those times. It's frustrating when you're someone that likes to be in control and your emotions get the better of you, reveal that you don't have everything together, betray you. I GET THAT. And I get hating people see your facade crack. WHEW.

Her gaze drifted to his mouth, and as he stilled, she wondered what it would be like to turn off her mind. To damn the consequences and lose herself. Just for a moment. To learn what his mouth would feel like on hers, what it would feel like on her neck, on her breasts, between her thighs—

LOSING MY MARBLES ONCE AGAIN.

AND HE HAS SEEDS FOR NEYTI. MY HEART. AND SHE GRABS HIS HAND AHHHHHHHHHLGdh;lkhGLKSHDLK:GHLKHD:LKG.

Yearning for— Oh. Oh.

I AM CACKLING MANIACALLY. I HAVE GONE FULL GREMLIN MODE. I AM UNHINGED. I AM UNWELL. I AM ASCENDED. ALLLIIIIII I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH.

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XV

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | A Muse | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.4K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

14 Yelona

Kazi was tired. 

She was tired of arguments. Tired of responsibility. Tired of the conflictual, pathetic emotions roiling inside of her, like the ocean fraught with a coming storm yet unable to truly form. 

Most of all, she was tired of the guilt gnawing on her, wearing away her mind until, soon, nothing would remain of her. 

Resentment constricted her lungs and twisted her thoughts. It itched in a place she couldn’t reach, persistent and frustrating. Unignorable.  

Her emotions, meticulously maintained and carefully locked away, wanted to escape. The signs were obvious last night. 

But the problem with repressed emotions—the problem with being told since she was a little girl that emotions were bad and not to be expressed—was their tendency to erupt. Too much time locked away and they grew frustrated. 

Repressed emotions concerning Daria, outside of their arguments, were months in the making. 

Kazi knew her emotions were too volatile this morning. And yet she couldn’t bother to halt her trek out the backdoor.

Foggy gray of early dawn cooled the morning temperature. The fog, heavy and thick, haunted the jungle surrounding the house. Dew speckled fern stalks and tree leaves, splashing her bare legs as she stalked around the side of the house to Daria’s garden. 

Daria was kneeling in freshly-churned soil, planting new seedlings. Loose long sleeves and trousers protected her from the morning chill, though sweat still blotted her forehead. Hair tied back, she appeared content. Serene. 

It was the packet of seeds beside Daria—a packet similar to the one currently sitting on her nightstand—that made Kazi pause. If she hadn’t seen her own packet of seeds only a few minutes ago, she would have blamed Daria for stealing them. 

Did Wolffe gift her sister seedlings for the Harvest Festival, too?

The question contained too many possibilities she didn’t want to consider this early in the morning and after her argument with Wolffe. She reconcentrated on the object in her hand, feeling rattled and out of place. 

“I have your potion,” Kazi said.

Shoulders stiffening, Daria lifted her face, her scowl dark with umbrage. 

Green eyes devoid of their usual warmth, Daria extended a hand. Kazi stepped into the enclosed garden and handed her sister the potion. Once finished, Daria thrust the bottle back at her, not once looking in her direction. 

Usually Kazi would walk away. Shut herself in her room and seethe at Daria’s behavior. Scream at her sister in her head. Call out Daria on every single shitty thing she had done in their lifetimes.  

Instead, Kazi pocketed the potion. “Why didn’t you accept my Festival gift?” 

She was searching for a fight. Seeking out a means to release her resentment. But she didn’t care. She was tired of caring so fucking much. 

“I was trying to be a good sister,” she said. And though she wanted to sound annoyed, dismissive, her tone was far too brittle. Far too hurt. 

Refusing to even look in Kazi’s direction, Daria glowered at a spindly plant, her gloved hands fisted atop her thighs. 

“I was trying to bridge this gap between us.” Kazi folded her arms across her chest, her emotions frothing and snapping. “I’m trying every day. And you brushed me off like it meant nothing.”

Her voice broke on the last word and she pressed a palm against forehead, ordering herself not to cry. Lack of sleep, tension with Wolffe, guilt concerning Neyti were crushing her. Pressing through skin and muscles and bones, grounding her into nothing more than dust.

But it hurt. To see the contempt in her little sister. To bear the responsibility for their broken bond. To know she had hurt Daria—she had hurt her little sister. 

Kazi dug her fingernails into her biceps. “I’m trying to fix things—”  

“That is the problem,” Daria snapped. Pushing herself to her feet, she glared at Kazi. “You’re trying to bridge the gap when you don’t understand why the gap exists. It’s unhelpful and a waste of time.”

“I know why the gap exists.” She dropped her hand to her sides, fisting them tightly. “It’s existed ever since I left home. You changed then and you haven’t been the same since.”

“I have been different?”

“Yes.”

Daria stared at her incredulously. “You were different, Kazi. You have been different ever since Papa died.”

The fog seemed to thicken and the jungle quieted. It held its breath, thick leaves and elder trees listening, waiting. 

“You disappeared after Papa died,” Daria said, her voice trembling. “You were there, physically, but you weren’t really there. I tried so hard to help you—to support you and be there for you—but you shut me out. You weren’t there for me anymore.”

Kazi released a cynical breath. “I was a kid, Daria, and I was grieving. It wasn’t my responsibility to take care of you.”

“I didn’t want you to take care of me!”

Raw emotion hoarsened Daria’s voice. She stared at Kazi with such distressed anguish it was as palpable as the wetness of the fog. 

“I wanted to be with you.” Daria threw up her hands. “I wanted to sit in your room with you while you hid. I wanted to walk to the harbor with you, and visit the lighthouse with you. I only wanted to be with you. I gave you space to mourn Papa, but giving you space turned into months and then years, until I realized you no longer cared for me.”

Memories from that time swarmed the back of her mind. Kazi remembered a soft-spoken girl knocking quietly on her bedroom door, leaving dessert in the hallway, offering to visit the sailboat, asking to watch the storms. 

Years of the soft-spoken girl longing after a sister who was too numb to feel or care.

“I thought I had done something to make you hate me.” Daria’s throat bobbed and she wiped at her cheek. “We were no longer friends, and then you disappeared. You left me. I knew at that moment that what we had no longer existed. I was no longer important to you, and I accepted that.” 

You left me.

The words echoed hollowly in her head, and Kazi froze. 

How long had she feared getting close to others knowing they would eventually leave? How long had she resented Papa for dying and abandoning them?

All those years keeping others at arms-length to protect herself from abandonment, and she had abandoned her little sister. 

Mist caressed Daria’s honeyed hair, wetting her lips and eyelashes. “I still wanted you to be okay. You didn’t have friends. You shut everyone out. So I thought if you no longer wanted to spend time with me, then I would find someone who would take care of you. Because you were lonely and I didn’t want to see you so unhappy.” 

“I isolated myself for a reason.” Kazi rubbed her arm, the chill of the mist seeping into her body. “And I only have myself to blame for my lack of relationships. So you shouldn’t have felt bad for me—”

“I loved you,” Daria whispered. “I loved you more than anyone, and I wanted to see you happy.” 

“Daria—” 

Daria raised a hand to silence her. 

“I met potential suitors.” A mirthless smile twisted Daria’s face. “I vetted them based on your personality. I looked for men who were kind and respectable. Men with a good work ethic. Men spoken highly of, because you deserved the best. I knew you no longer loved me, but I thought I could find someone who would take care of you. Someone who would make you feel happy.”

“Daria.” Kazi stared at her sister incredulously. “I have always loved you.”

Her sister scoffed. “There’s no need to lie—”

“Everything I have done the past year has been for you,” she said, gesturing to the house. “When you fell ill, I returned home. When Mama became distraught, I intervened. When the healers said there was no hope, I sought medicine and help because I refused to give up on you. I am trying to start a new life for you. Everything I do is for you.”

Daria’s smile turned sad, placating. “You do that out of duty, Kazi. Not because you love me—”

“Don’t say that.” Kazi shook her head disbelievingly. “Don’t fucking say that.”

“Ever since I fell ill, I have been nothing of consequence. I’m a burden to you. I won’t be here for much longer—”

“Stop it.”

“I won’t be,” Daria insisted. “And I don’t want to leave you in this world alone because you have lost everyone and it hurts me to look at you.”

“Daria—” 

“I look at you and I no longer see the sister I admired. The sister I loved. I no longer see the Kazi who snuck around the harbors, the Kazi who spent her weekends sailing. I no longer see the Kazi who told me stories late at night because I was scared of the thunder, and the Kazi who took me out dancing every time it rained. I thought you might find that person again if you had someone in your life who could help you carry your burdens. Someone who cared for you.”

Stricken speechless, Kazi could only stare at her sister. All this time she thought Daria wanted her to marry because of tradition. Because of their upbringing. 

She should have known Daria’s personal interest was driven by something more. 

“I’m scared, Kazi.” Daria breathed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m scared I’m going to forget those moments. I don’t want to forget when you were alive.”

A tear slid down her cheek and Kazi looked away. 

Because it had been years since she truly felt alive, and when she tried to remember its warmth and comfort, disappointment and self-hatred made themselves known. Two shadows leaching the life from her.

“I tell Neyti stories about you.” Daria regarded her with a sunken appearance, the planes of her face dull and harried. “I want her to know you. I want her to know you the way I knew you. That’s why I asked her to draw that photo of us. I wanted to show her who you truly are.”

Energy and warmth and anger dissipated from her body and Kazi sighed, her bones sagging. Wariness guarded Daria’s gaze, as if her sister expected her to react coldly. Cruelly. 

“You’ve never been a burden,” Kazi said hoarsely. “And I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” 

Daria blinked her surprise, and Kazi mentally berated herself. Had she really been so apathetic and closed-off from Daria the past years that apologizing was shocking?

“I’m sorry I…disappeared after Papa’s death.” She searched her sister’s gaze. “I’m sorry I left you without warning. I’m sorry I ignored you for years. I’m sorry I haven’t stopped to talk to you, or listen, or just be there for you. I’m sorry.”

Kazi let her hand drift to one of the spindly plants, the fuzz of the stem tickling her palm. A piece of her wanted to reach for Daria, to close the distance between them, to hold her sister’s hand one more time. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. 

“I pulled away because I couldn’t stomach the thought of disappointing you. The thought of failing you…” She shrugged, laughing hollowly. “I couldn’t bear it—I didn’t want to bear it. I pulled away, not because of anything you did, but because I didn’t want to fail you. And now this gap exists and I don’t know what to do. The thought of losing you—”

Choking on a renewed surge of emotion, Kazi closed her eyes and tilted her face to the foggy sky, breathing in through her nose. Exhaling through her mouth. 

Less than a year and a half remained before Daria passed. Her sister’s memory would start to worsen and fade in six months. So much time had been lost and so little remained.

“I dream sometimes,” Daria interrupted her thoughts and Kazi opened her eyes. Her sister raised a hand and played with a wisp of mist. “I dream of the lighthouse, of the two of us sitting up there while a storm rolls in.”

A soft smile smoothed her features and she closed her eyes, like she could envision the dream. Envision a time when the lighthouse was their safe place and reality didn’t exist, and pain and heartache and bitterness were concerns for adults. 

A time when two little girls played and laughed and dreamt of happy wonders.

“I dream of us sharing our citrus-stars, and the tales you would tell me of the dragons.” Her voice was wistful, gentle, like the whisper of a breeze. “I dream of the waves lapping at my feet, and the sand between my toes, and the warmth of the sun on my skin and the way it always reminded me of home. Sometimes I swear I can still smell the ocean.”

Daria’s eyelashes fluttered open, the green of her eyes glassy. “I hate waking up. I’m so tired. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of not talking. I’m tired of avoiding one another. I want to go back to the lighthouse and never leave.” 

Deep down, Kazi did too. But she refused to admit it.

Enshrouded by an impenetrable fog, the two sisters considered one another. 

The fracture in their relationship was overt in the ragged lines around their eyes, the honesty Kazi withheld, the way they relied on themselves for comfort rather than one another.

They would never return to their former innocence and naïve adoration. Mutual hurt and wariness kept them at bay. 

But they could start anew. Try to nurture a new dynamic. 

Kazi wanted it. She wanted it badly.

So she knelt near the freshly-churned hole Daria had dug and a moment later, her sister settled beside her, retrieving her trowel. Kazi’s hands trembled slightly. 

As a seedling required attention, patience, and effort, so too would reconciliation. It wasn’t something that would sprout overnight. It was something they would have to cherish and protect and choose. Over and over again. 

So, together, they planted the first seed.

Missing her usual swim wasn’t as harrowing as Kazi typically imagined. A quiet hour in the garden with Daria proved a necessary reprieve from her routine. Her head felt clearer, and her chest lighter.

Kazi was lost to her thoughts—thoughts of relief, subtle hope for the coming months—as she wandered into the house. She was so consumed by her musings she didn’t notice Wolffe standing beside the kitchen bar. Less than a meter separated them when she finally came to her senses and faltered to a stop.

Wolffe stood straight, his stance wide. Determination hardened his gaze.

Their argument the night before dampened her new-found relief and Kazi bit the inside of her cheek. She thought Wolffe would avoid her, again, this morning.

In hindsight, her assumption was blatantly inaccurate and disingenuous to his character. Wolffe confronted conflict in order to find a solution. He had an overbearing need to understand the intricacies of things around him and a level-headed desire to confront issues, determine their problems, and then fix them. 

When it came to Wolffe, Kazi knew she couldn’t avoid their argument. She couldn’t pretend their argument hadn’t left her reeling and resentful; she couldn’t feign nonchalance and disinterest. 

She was also aware that her avoidance tactics, especially the unconscious list of grudges she kept in the back of her mind, were an unhealthy handling of conflict. A year in therapy explained the need to admit to feelings of hurt and betrayal rather than suppress them. 

However, she had a fatal flaw: hubris. 

She couldn’t admit to being hurt. It was a weakness. A vulnerability that would enable others to take advantage of her. Or, to see how pathetic she was and to abandon her. 

Suppressing emotions and avoiding conflict were her scapegoats. They had protected her for so long. 

Wringing her hands together, Kazi scanned the kitchen, avoiding Wolffe. A knife and cutting board, both damp with water, were drying on the counter. The bowl of chocolates was half-full. An overgrown plant trailed its vines to the hardwood floor. Finally, she glanced in Wolffe’s direction.

He regarded her, his expression unreadable, and tapped two fingers on the bar. He cleared his throat. 

“I’m sorry.”

His apology surprised her, and her eyes widened marginally. 

“I…overreacted,” Wolffe said. A twinge of discomfort grimaced his features and he rolled his shoulders back. Steady, unflinching eyes sought hers. “I had…expectations I now know were inaccurate. I was wrong to take my frustrations out on you.” 

The lowness of his tone, the hesitation in his pauses and the searching depth of his gaze, alerted her to something more. Something deeper behind his words. Like a confession spoken underwater. Some of it made sense. Other pieces left her confused. 

“You were right.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “We’re nothing to each other. And I’m sorry for pushing the conversation.”

Regret dulled the vestige of her resentment, and in its wake, Kazi winced, raking a hand through her hair, wishing for the neat perfection of her braids. 

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she murmured, rubbing her chest. An attempt to quiet the remorse pinching her insides. “You’re not…nothing to me.”

Heat warmed her cheeks and she dropped her gaze, exhaling her frustration. She needed Wolffe to know she valued his presence in her life. She needed him to know he wasn’t nothing. 

He was…more. 

But she didn’t know how to define her feelings for him, much less explain them to him.

“I was frustrated with you,” she said. “And it came out wrong.” Her explanation still fell short—it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t. Hesitantly, she took a step toward him, searching his guarded features, silently begging for him to understand. To forgive her. “I was mad at myself for thinking you would join us. I took out my own anger on you, and I didn’t mean it. All of what I said—I didn’t mean any of it. I swear—you’re not nothing to me.” 

Brows furrowed, Wolffe observed her for a long moment. His gaze was full of calculation, and the longer he studied her, the more his underscored frustration revealed itself. The flaring of his nostrils. The scrunching of his eyes. The rigidity in his shoulders. 

He tapped his fingers against the bar. “I didn’t realize the hike meant that much to you.”

“It didn’t—”

“Don’t lie.” Wolffe took two steps toward her, close enough she could see the dark smudges beneath his eyes. “I know it did.”

“What do you want me to say? That it mattered to me?” She threw up her hands. “Because it did, Wolffe. It mattered to me. You promised, and I felt real fucking stupid getting my hopes up only for you to not show. And the worst part—the worst part is that I know the missions come first to you, that nothing else matters. So I had no right to be upset with you, and I overreacted. But you promised, and I couldn’t let that go.”

“I know what I promised.” His throat bobbed. “Does Neyti know…?”

“No.” A hint of relief relaxed his stiff posture. His arched brow demanded an explanation and Kazi shrugged. “I thought it could be a surprise, so I didn’t tell her beforehand, and I obviously didn’t tell her after.”

“The mission—”

“Always comes first,” she interrupted. “I know that, and I shouldn’t have been upset about it. I’m sorry.”

Displeasure pressed his lips together and Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I chose the mission over you because I was frustrated. You wanted me there and I told you I would be. I regret going back on my promise.”

The honesty in his words made her shift uncomfortably between her feet. 

A self-deprecating smile tugged on her mouth. “After what happened with Neyti’s classmates’ parents, I was upset. I kept thinking if you had been there, then maybe things would have been different. It was easier to blame you rather than accept responsibility for my own actions.”

Wolffe stilled. “Something happened?” 

“It was nothing—”

“Ennari,” Wolffe growled. “What happened.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” He returned her exasperated look with an equally reproving scowl. She sighed. “One of the mom’s said something rude about Neyti. She said it loud enough that Neyti overheard.”

Just the reminder of Eris's falsely sympathetic comment irked her.

“I should have walked away the moment those women wanted to talk,” she said, scoffing at her stupidity. “I should have known nothing good would come of it. But I thought… I thought maybe if they talked with me, then their kids would be more accepting of Neyti.” She clenched her fists behind her back. “I knew it was a bad idea, but I was so fucking stupid, and Neyti overheard everything, and I didn’t protect her—”

“Kazi.”

It took her too long to discern Wolffe through the blur of her gaze, and even longer to realize she was about to cry. Gritting her teeth, she forced her eyes open. Ordered the tears away. 

Most people claimed crying was cathartic, a pleasant release of emotions. Not for her. Crying was humiliating. Draining. She hated the uncontrollable sensation of sobs wracking her spine and clawing their way from her lungs. She hated the headache it always spurned. 

Most of all, though, she hated crying in front of others. She hated knowing they could see.

“Sorry.” Wiping at her eyes, Kazi cleared her throat, ignoring the humiliated flush in her face and neck. A tear tickled her palm. She loosed a shaky breath. “Sorry, I don’t know why—”

“You’re not a failure.”

Her chuckle was strained. “I know.”

Gently, Wolffe angled her chin back, forcing her eyes to meet his. “You’re not a failure.”

“I know,” she repeated. She didn’t want him to see this side of her. To see the broken mess lurking beneath her composed exterior. 

He lowered his face to hers, and he murmured, “I’m not going to abandon you and Neyti again.”

Raw promise quieted his words and softened his features, and Kazi believed him. It was funny, and curious, how she knew he meant it—how she trusted him. Funny and curious, but also alarming.

Wolffe traced his finger along her jaw, unhurried in his approach, as if acting subconsciously. She wanted to breach the minimal distance separating their bodies. To lean into the heat of his chest, listen to his heartbeat beneath her ear, and simply rest there. To not feel so alone. Just for a moment. 

Her gaze drifted to his mouth, and as he stilled, she wondered what it would be like to turn off her mind. To damn the consequences and lose herself. Just for a moment. To learn what his mouth would feel like on hers, what it would feel like on her neck, on her breasts, between her thighs—

“Ennari.” The warning in his voice, rough and low, brought her gaze back to his.

A loud thud jerked them apart. 

Kazi glanced at the staircase where Neyti, dressed in a pink dress, was straightening from her apparent jump. Satisfied with her landing, she waved. 

“Are you ready for breakfast?” Kazi asked, grinning.

Neyti nodded.

“Before that,” Wolffe said, reaching into the pocket of his trousers and retrieving a small packet. He dropped to a knee beside Neyti. “I have this for you.”

Intrigued, Kazi leaned forward, eyeing the small object. Her eyebrows raised in recognition. Similar to the packet on her nightstand, similar to the packet outside with Daria, Wolffe had bought Neyti her own seedlings.

The gesture was so thoughtful it rendered Kazi speechless. She could only stare at Wolffe, stare at the man who was watching Neyti, subtle apprehension lining his forehead. 

Neyti accepted the packet with shrewd interest. She brought it close to her ear and shook it softly. Seeds rattled inside. Her lips parted. She lifted her gaze to Wolffe’s, a silent question in her eager face. 

A chuckle eased the tension from Wolffe, and Kazi quietly laughed, too.

“I forgot to give it to you at the Festival,” Wolffe said, his eyes darting in Kazi’s direction. “We can plant them in the garden. Is that…all right?”

Appraising the packet of seeds, Neyti traced a tiny finger along the petals etched into the exterior. A small, yet dimpled grin brightened her face and she nodded at Wolffe. His sigh of relief went unnoticed by the little girl who showed Kazi her new packet.

“I bet they’ll be beautiful once they bloom,” Kazi said, fixing the ruffles on the sleeves of Neyti’s dress. “Maybe Mr. Wolffe will show you after breakfast—”

A fervent shake of her head and Neyti blinked wide, pleading eyes at her. Kazi raised an unimpressed eyebrow. She was about to lecture on the importance of breakfast but Neyti shifted her pleading gaze to Wolffe. 

Expecting Wolffe to refuse Neyti’s request, his hesitation shocked Kazi. He looked from Neyti to her, rubbing the back of his neck, and then pushed himself to his feet, nudging Kazi with his elbow.  

She sighed. “Fine. But don’t stay out too long.”

Neyti grinned wider and clapped her hands. 

Just as Kazi was turning toward the kitchen and Wolffe was making his way to the sunroom, she watched a tiny hand reach for a larger one. Wolffe stumbled, his spine stiffening and eyes narrowing. Cautiously, he regarded the hand in his. Neyti, oblivious to his hesitant assessment, shook her packet of seeds, tugging Wolffe forward.

Slowly, Wolffe closed his fingers around Neyti’s, his hand engulfing hers. The two wandered through the sunroom and out the backdoor. 

From the sunroom windows, Kazi watched them together, something warm and wistful blooming inside her. It poked through her heart and tugged. Gentle yet demanding. 

Frowning at the strange sensation, she massaged her chest. It was a feeling she attributed to her childhood.

A desire for the security and laughter and adventure of her youth.

Yearning. 

But it was no longer confined to the past. 

Like an extended hand grasping another in the midst of uncertainty, like fingers intertwining in search of connection and comfort, yearning squeezed her heart. 

Yearning for—

Oh.

Oh.

Masterlist | Chapter 14 | A Muse | Chapter 16

A/N: Read “A Muse” for additional story context.

Next chapter release – April 18th  

Artwork of Kazi and Daria by the lovely @eyecandyeoz!

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

[cherriizumi]

Little something I wanted to get off my brain and onto the canvas. Might do more with it later if I have the motivation.

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

I shouldn't, but I open the messages from you and read them over and over again until I can swear I hear your voice in them. The ghost of you walks the halls of this old house and plays back memories of jokes so bad that we couldn't help but laugh about. Your smile behind glass in picture frames is an ever constant reminder that I will only ever see you in glimpses of the past.

Glimpses like these old messages that I have memorized over these past months. All you had wanted to do was to spend time with me. Time that I thought I had plenty of with you. Each message that I left on read stings my chest. All my good memories with you are tainted with regrets now because I was too focused on me to see the hand you were trying to reach out to me with.

The messages begin to blur as my vision gets interrupted and my eyes start to sting; fresh hot tears rolling down my cheeks again. Frustrated, I wipe my eyes but they don't stop. I try to look at the ceiling, the shadows on the wall, the faint outlines of half packed boxes in the corner.. anything really to get my mind on something else. If my dehydrated ass kept crying like this my eyes would be swollen shut tomorrow..

-knock knock-

The silence of the room is broken when a gentle voice follows soon after the abrupt tap on a surface nearby. "Doe Eyes?" My heart grew cold for a moment at the shock of hearing someone at my window... on the 2nd floor.. at dark thirty at night. There was only one person who would call me by that nickname however, and that only made the situation a little better. "A-Alan?" The lump in my throat that grew while I was sobbing made it difficult to get even one word out. I swallowed, trying to push it down for my next word.

The window slid open with remarkable ease, which made me a bit envious if I was being honest. There had to be something said about this mountain man's strength..damn thing always gave me trouble when I tried to open it. But my attention was soon grabbed as I noticed he hadn't broken eye contact with me since announcing his presence. With the way open he hadn't even fully entered the room before he asked, "What's wrong? Why are you crying so hard?" He seemed to study my face, tilting his head as he asked another question. "Did someone upset you?" Huh.. maybe it was my imagination but did his voice get lower when he asked that?

Once he was safely inside the threshold of my room, he closed the window to keep the chill outside. With his back turned I couldn't help but notice the gentle outline the street lamp gave him, the soft glow of his silhouette against the night sky. There was something about him that made him a little mystical sometimes. Whenever I needed someone, or was feeling utterly alone, there he'd be. Ready to swoop in and make it all better... seeing him face me again, my heart ached for a different reason.

I held out a hand that he wasted no time in collecting. Getting close to sit besides me on the bed, Alan clasps my hand with such sweet tenderness and brings it to his lips before holding it to his chest. I feel one of his hands on the side of my face while his thumb wipes some remaining tears away. Almost on instinct, my face leans into his touch, his skin is cold from the night air and feels so good against the heat trapped in my cheeks.

I don’t remember much else from that night. All I know is that I fell asleep in Alan's arms after we talked about silly, unimportant things. He didn't press me about confessing the real reason I was upset, but I told him that when I was ready we could talk about it. And.. I knew he would be willing to listen to me. He always was. I still have so many regrets, but listening to my new flames heartbeat lull me to sleep definitely wasn't one of them...

[thatonedeadchick]

𝒞𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑜 𝑀𝒶𝒹𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒶𝓁 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

Warnings⚠️ some angst, sad Camilo, but don't worry it's fluff at the end 🧡

Camilo stared at himself, his hazel eyes darting across his face. His nose, his mouth, his hair, and yet he still couldn't see it. He couldn't see Camilo.

That scared him, it scared him that he changed so often, pretending to be others in his everyday life that he didn't even know who he was anymore... Who Camilo was.

The more he looked at himself the more he hated what he saw, but he couldn't figure out why. Did he not like his nose? Eyes? His height? He didn't have a small cute button nose like his sister, he didn't have big curious eyes like his brother, he wasn't strong and tall like Luisa, wasn't elegant and graceful like Isabella, he wasn't good at expressing like Maribel... So what does he have? Tears started to fill his eyes, his nose slightly scrunched, eyebrows tweaked up, and his bottom lip taken between his teeth to stop it from quivering.

He was always someone else, every day for everything... He shifted to be taller when helping around the house and doing chores, he shifted into his sister for seconds when eating, he even shifted when babysitting the children in the village, he was always someone else.

Tears started to fall down his cheeks, falling faster and faster. He desperately tried to keep his breathing steady, vision going blurry as he tried not to blink, as he knew that would only make the tears fall faster and he was still hoping they would just go away. The more he stared into the mirror the more he had to fight the urge to smash it. He was a copycat... A doppelganger... What's the use of getting a gift as special as you when you weren't special at all, just a copy of someone else.

Copy

Shifter

Copycat

Shadow

Doppelganger

He fell to his knees head in his hands as he asked himself 'who is Camilo' over and over and over. His shoulders began to shake, putting his head down, fingers tapping feverishly on his dresser telling himself not to cry, but it was fruitless and his whimpers and soft cries left him.

"Camilo?" Camilo's head shot up from his hands, oh no it was you his amor, he couldn't let you see him like this. He hastily turned away from you frantically wiping the tears from his face and eyes, but the more he wiped them away more came falling.

His breath hurrying in frustration, only to stop when he felt your hand placed gently on his shoulder, he flinched hands shaking as he looked anywhere and everywhere but to you and your eyes, he couldn't look at you, he couldn't see your face of pity as you gazed down at him.

He could feel you kneel next to him and try to pull his shoulders to slowly turn him to face you, he took a deep shaky breath before turning to you giving you a broken smile, but as soon as the corners of his lips lifted he couldn't hold it and it dropped back into a quivering frown. 

"ay, mi pobre amor" you whispered as you pulled him into you, you rubbed his shoulders as you helps him stand walking him towards his bed, getting him to lay down with you. You pulled him in and he snuggled into your neck, as you began to run your fingers through his thick curls.

He let out a shaky hum of appreciation, closing his eyes. You kissed his forehead, pausing your hand running through his hair to brush some almost dried tears off his freckled cheeks giving him a small boop on his nose causing him to giggle.

"You are you, Camilo amor you are mi corazón, my one and only, my prankster with a heart and soul of gold. I see you, and I love you." You mumble the last part kissing his forehead, he smiled, a real smile. One that lit up your life every time you saw it without fail. You helped him turn over as you brought him impossibly closer to you, Camilo smiled he loved being the little spoon more they he let on.

And now he knows that even if he sometimes doesn't know who he is, he has you to remind him.

Goodbye my lovely readers, until we read again. 🧡

[angelamajiki]

[ a father’s love ]

PARING: StepFather! Aizawa x StepDaughter! Reader

SYNOPSIS: Your stepfather took you in with open arms after the death of your mother. Depression gets the better of you and Shouta promises to take care of you. But just how far is he willing to go to see it through?

CW: yandere, pseudo-incest, mentions of stalkers, mentions of death, depression, mental health issues, pregnancy, noncon, somnophilia, bondage, daddy kink, praise kink, afab reader

AN: my first collab with the bnharem server!! the theme was roommates (i ran with the term loosely) read the other member’s takes here! mind the tags as usual and enjoy!! :)

The death of your mother shattered you. A freak accident with a villain attack had her crushed under rubble from a collapsed building. Your stepfather, Shouta, suggested that you move back home with him after her funeral. As tempting as the offer was, you were determined to make it through University and handle yourself like a big girl, an adult ready to take on the world. You had only moved out a few months before her death, independence calling to you after you received your college acceptance letter.

A few months and an eviction notice later, you crawled back to him, the only remnants of your family. Open arms enveloped you, bringing you solace and comfort in your dire time of need. You felt like a child, bundled up in his arms as you sobbed, screaming at the cruelty of the world. Depression hit you hard and deep, flunking you out of your classes and preventing the bills from being paid. You had no other alternative but to accept his offer.

“You time and space to grieve properly, kitty. The most logical thing to do is take a breather.”

Ah, kitty. He always knew that was your favorite nickname, calling you that ever since you were a little girl. He also always knew just what to say. Patting your thigh, he stood up and extended his hand to help you up as well.

“Let’s go step up your room. I'm sure you need a nap after that cry.”

He gave a wrinkly smile before disappearing down the hall.

Skeptical at first, you were unsure if it was the right move to return home. You needed time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed. A break from life would give you a chance to sort things out, right? And Shouta was more than prepared to use this opportunity to show you he would be all that you needed and more.

The man was nothing short of doting and generous. A shoulder to cry on, a good laugh, a friend, a father. He helped you piece your broken soul back together. Whenever he wasn’t patrolling, he was at home with you. When your depression seemed to drown you, Shouta was there to pull you out of the water. He made sure you ate, helped brush your hair when it was matted, and got you into clean clothes daily. It was the small things that he did for you that helped your demeanor change.

—

“Up and at ‘em, kitty. Breakfast is on the table.”

You grunted, burrowing deeper into your bedding. A chuckle reverberated in his throat as he rubbed your lower back soothingly.

“C’mon, I know you haven't been eating lately. Let's get some food in you. I made your favorite.”

—

But as time passed, his help could only do so much. Your mental health continued to dwindle, plummeting into the ground when her first anniversary passed.

—

Gentle strokes of a brush smoothed through your tangled hair. Shouta was kind enough to help you when your head got matted into a rat’s nest, being incredibly tender and gentle with you. Tears streamed down your face, broken hiccups and sobs bubbling from your chest. You were trying to hold it in, he could tell. A sweet kiss was placed on the back of your head as he enveloped you in a comforting embrace, letting his hands sip down to your hips to rub circles in.

“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”

He was the only one that was.

—

The domestic dynamic the two of you fell into hardly felt like one of parent and child, but more as two lovers sharing a home they built together. The pair of you even adopted a new cat together in hopes of cheering you up. You can't say that you disliked it. It felt...nice to have your presence matter when it was a struggle even to be alive. Shouta always checked in on you; whether he sent you an update from work or shared a cat video. He really was the best father anyone could hope for, even when your depression got the worst of you.

Your depression started to manifest itself in many forms. Lately, you’d been having vicious nightmares, only to wake up with an unknown stickiness on your thighs. Recalling the night terrors was something that evaded you, but you knew you were being violated. Perhaps your body wet itself from the fear of the dream? It was the only logical answer you and Shouta could come up with. Depression sure had funny ways of physically manifesting itself. You thought that would be the end of it, putting the situation behind you.

It was until it started happening nightly. The nightmares only seemed to prolong themselves, worsening to the point where you could vividly dream of being assaulted. Your underwear was now soiled too, and it definitely wasn’t your doing. Fearing you had a stalker, Shouta installed brand new locks on your windows and doors, hoping to soothe you. He was a Pro-Hero, so he certainly had the means and know-how to protect you. It put you at some ease, but it continued to the point where your stepfather decided sleeping in the same room would help you feel safer.

It didn't.

The nightmares themselves only seemed to get worse, but Shouta was right there to comfort you as soon as you woke up shouting in a panic. He would take you into his arms and hold you until you fell back asleep. You felt like a child. But he didn't judge you.

After a month of strange behavior, the stress caused you to gain some weight. Visiting a doctor was your best bet to get an answer. He took you to your appointment, letting you hold onto his arm for comfort as his hand rested comfortably on your thigh. The two of you were mistaken for a couple by a nurse. What a strange, intimate relationship the pair of your tangled yourselves in.

The doctor ran some tests and had your blood drawn. The results were to be emailed to you in a few days. Shouta calmed your nerves with a tender kiss to the forehead, reassuring you that everything would work itself out.

The notification for the email came in a few days later while Shouta was at work and you were lounging in the living room. Patience was never your strong suit, so you took his laptop from the coffee table, only to open up to a camera feed. Coming from your room.

The blood in your veins ran cold as you looked into the memory drive of the feed. Maybe he set up a camera to see what was happening during your nightmares? That had to be it; how could you assume the worst of your sweet dad? The only saved footage to be found was him fucking himself deep inside of your sleeping body.

“I see the results are in.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. He always had a habit of sneaking up on you.

“What-” You couldn’t find the words to describe your anger. “What the fuck is this!”

Disgust. Rage. Dispair.

Your only family left had turned against you.

“You were upset at the loss of your family, kitty. So I decided to give you a new one.”

He couldn't possibly mean…

“You’re pregnant.”

Bile rose to your throat as you gagged at the mere thought of his words. Pregnant? With your father’s child? His betrayal cut you more profoundly than your mother’s death ever could have. But it couldn't have made more sense—his touches, his comfort, sleeping in your room, the nightmares that plagued you.

“You’re sick!”

You shouted, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pummel insults and nasty spats at him. You lost your voice by the end of your rant, panting and heaving while sweat beaded your brow. He just stood there, taking everything in with a grain of salt.

“I understand, kitty. I really do. I should have been straightforward with my intentions.” He confessed.

The capture weapon around his neck snagged you the second you moved on the couch.

“Let daddy make it up to you. I'll make everything better for my pretty little kitty.”

It secured you to the sofa, keeping your legs spread and your hands behind your torso. On his knees in front of you, Shouta was ready to serve his apology with his tongue. Panties and sweatpants were ripped at the seams before being tossed aside.

He caressed your thigh with a delicate touch, pressing his lips to the other side. A kiss was pressed to your clit before long slow strokes of a hot tongue lavished it in attention. He kneaded your thighs gently all the while, humming as he began to alternate between licking and suckling on your sensitive nub.

Your head thrashed about in your binds as you shouted in protest.

“S-Stop it right now! Get off of me, dad!”

In a desperate plea, you hoped that hearing you call him dad would force him back into reality. Instead, he groaned and took a breath.

“Call me that again, kitty.”

A hot mouth sealed over your wet cunt as he dove his tongue between your folds while sucking with his lips. The pleasure was undeniable; his tongue was too experienced to ignore how his ministrations made you feel. Toes flexing and curling, you cried out of a mix of frustration, disgust, and humiliation as he continued to work at your dripping hole. This pig was getting off on the fact that he was fucking his daughter. It made your soul shatter all over again, the one he worked so hard to rebuild.

You continued to sob, moans now added to the mix, as he worked a finger inside of you. He made a curling motion after plunging in knuckle deep. A pleasured shout broke between your cries.

“I'll take it that’s your sweet spot, pretty girl? Good to know.”

He continued to abuse that spot, slowing down just a touch with his tongue to drag out the ride to the peak. Can't have you coming too fast, now can we? Your moans and whimpers spurred him on even more as he wiggled another finger inside you.

Removing his mouth, he focused on stretching and loosening up your tense body. You were lax when sleeping, so sliding in was a pinch with his size. But now he has to deal with you thrashing and struggling against his bonds. Disgust and pleasure churned together in your gut, feeling the incoming orgasm approaching hard and fast. Shouta felt you clench around his fingers and added a third, using his thumb to swipe your clit back and forth. With a final cry, you came on his fingers with a shout as your body convulsed in the capture weapon. You found what little peace you could in your short-lived post-nut clarity, taking a moment to breathe and center yourself.

Your father gave you no such chance to do so, immediately springing his cock free and rubbing the tip against your clit to gather your wetness. A chuckle sounded in his throat as he watched you twitch even more from the stimulation that was starting to border on being painful.

“Relax, kitty. Being tense won't do you any good.”

He slowly nudged his cock into your hole, groaning as he took his time bottoming out inside you. Praise spilled from his lips as he let you adjust, feeling your pussy clench tight around him. Good girl, good kitty. He shushed your sobs, smoothing the tears off of your face with the pads of his thumb. Murmurs of good girl and taking me so well slipped your senses. The pace he set was slow and deep, letting you feel every agonizing inch of his rather impressive dick.

Your flowing tears were kissed away as he proceeded to thrust faster and deeper. The sound of skin slapping against one another filled the room, even above your now weakened crying and whimpers. Sweat beaded on your brow plastered your hair to your forehead. His breath was warm against your cheek, his moans of pleasure so close to your ear forced you to stay in the moment.

Shouta swallowed your cute noises with a kiss, cupping and stroking your cheek with his right hand while his left pinned your hips down into the cushions. He did his best to stop your tears, pushing the hair off of your sweaty face. A few minutes passed filled with kisses, cries, and deep thrusts before he maneuvered you to be seated in his lap. Back pressed into the cushions, he lazily thrust up into you, hands grabbing your now bouncing ass. His thumb made its way back to your clit as he rubbed it in small circles, grinning at your cries of pleasure that you couldn't hold back. Dark brown eyes fluttered shut as he groaned and moaned proudly, increasing the speed of his thrusts as he felt himself getting closer and closer.

He usually lasted longer while you were sleeping; he does have quite a bit of stamina from his hero work. But something about seeing your flushed, torn face, hearing your whimpers and cries, he can't help but cum rather quickly for his own record. The pleasure was manifesting itself within you again, a second orgasm hitting you like a speeding truck as you gasped and choked for air at its intensity. Shouta was soon to follow, grunting and moaning loudly as he filled your cunt with his spend. He rode out both your orgasms, relishing in the silence between the two of you. It was better than hearing your broken, choked up wails.

It was wrong; he knew that. Breaking your trust, violating you, sabotaging your personal life, he couldn't help but be selfish with you. But he always knew what was best for you, always knew how to take care of you when you couldn't.

Foreheads pressed together, he caught your sagging body against him in a warm hug, stroking your hair when you started to sob uncontrollably.

“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”

[aliasimagines]

It Was You All Along // Dave Lizewski

requested by a lovely anon 💕

Can u write dave x fem!reader where reader Always had a crush on him but he kinda ignored reader bc of Katie but then someone popular asks reader out and he gets jealous and y/n dresses up super hot and he realizes he fucked up

word count: 1809

a/n: i hope this is close enough! ❤️ (i couldn't think of a different title but this one reminds me of Agatha All Along xd)

"Hey, Dave! My folks are gone for the weekend and I thought we could have an X-men watch party. Wanna come?" 

"Sorry I can't, I'm hanging out with Katie." 

"Again?" you ask a bit louder than intended,causing a few people to look at you in the hallway. You continue with a lower voice "Aren't you like, tired of all the lying? Like, what if she finds out that you're not actually gay, hm? Cause you know she will, eventually." 

"Why do you care so much?!" Dave says, clearly frustrated. 

You raise an eyebrow. 

"Oh why would I? Maybe because we have been best friends since diapers, you stupid asshole!" you say not caring if some students hear you or not, anymore. "But you know what, you are right. I shouldn't care. Go play pretend with Katie but don't come to me, crying when you end up getting your heart broken." 

"Don't worry, I won't." he snaps back. And you turn around and leave but not before flipping him off. You felt the angry tears rolling down your cheeks as you zigzagged between the chattering teenagers. 

You couldn’t  believe how Dave could be so blind! He only had eyes for Miss Perfect. Whom by the way, is a real bitch and would go back to ignoring Dave or calling him a freak if it wasn’t for his little gay act. 

Somehow you made your way over to the restroom and locked yourself into one of the booths.

Dave couldn’t even see you as a potential “love-interest”. Eventhough you were the one who always were there for him, you were always there when he called, running to him like a lost puppy. And he couldn’t even care less. And you hate him for it. But you hate yourself more for still liking him. 

It’s not like you can do something about it, if you could, you would have. But that’s not how it works, so you are just crying your guts out on the toilet trying not to think about Dave.

In all honesty, you have no idea how you made it through the day. You almost cried during biology but you caught yourself after a few lonely tears. You could feel Dave’s gaze on you but there was no way you would look at him. As soon as the last bell rang you were out of school, hurring past Tod and Marty, not being in the mood for them either.

The next day wasn’t any different, you didn’t hang with Dave, Tod and Marty like you normally do. You didn’t sit with them at lunch, instead walked over to the only empty table you saw and placed your tray there. You mounched on your food, completely unaware of your surroundings until you hear the chair next to you being pulled out. You look up to see Matthew Greendale, resident hottie of the school sit next to you. 

"Hey, sorry, it's not a problem if I sit here, right?" he asks. You eyed him suspiciously. 

"No, it's fine." 

It's fine?! You mentally scold yourself. You never even spoke to this guy, outside of literature in first year. Why would he sit next to you? 

"I didn't want to sit with all the other "popular jocks" he answered you unspoken question while taking a bite of his canteen-hamburger. “They’re fun and everything but it’s nice to get away from them sometimes.”

You think of your friends who are sitting a few tables away and you can’t help but agree with Matthew.

“Yeah, I feel you.” you say without thinking.

“Hey..We used to sit next to each other in freshman year, didn’t we? It’s y/n ,right?” 

You nod with a smile, honestly being surprised that he remembers you.

“Yeah!”

“I haven’t really seen you around a lot. But when I do you are always hanging with those comic book nerds.”

“Hey! Comics are great.”

He puts his hands up in a defense.

“Oh no! I didn’t mean it as an insult. Some comics are good, my little brother made read one last month. It was actually great.”

“What comic was it?”

“Oh, uhm..It was about some kind of blind dude in a devil costume.”

“Daredevil?” you ask with a giggle.

“Yes, that one!” he laughs too.

The two of you continue talking until the end of lunch break. He is surprisingly fun to talk to and he even offers to walk you to your next class after lunch. You had such a good time you didn’t even think about Dave, heck, you didn’t even notice him literally glaring daggers into Matthew.

“What’s up with you, dude?” Tod asks snapping Dave out of it. 

“Yeah, Dave. What the shit is going on with you and Y/N?” Marty asks too.

Dave forrows is eyebrows. Yes, what the shit is going on with the two of you? Every since yesterday's 'fight' with you he can't stop thinking. About how he spends most, if not all of his time either with being Kick-Ass or, rather with Katie. It used to be different. He spent every second with you and he just threw you away so he could maybe get laid. And sure, Katie may be hot as fuck but she is.. Well, she is not you. 

"We had a fight, yesterday. I.. And she was right." he explains with a grimace. "But why the fuck is that Greendale asshole is with her?" 

"You jealous or something, dude?" 

"Wha- Of course I am not jealous! Why would I be? You guys are nuts." 

Jealous… The word rolled around in his mouth like a new flavored milkshake he never tasted before. 

Could he be… Jealous? He never thought of you that way, you were always his best friend. Just that. But.. The more he thinks about it the more he can't stop that twist like feeling in his stomach. 

That night he can't focus on crime fighting. All his thoughts are tied to you. Whether he likes it or not, memories of you keep popping up in his mind. How didn't he notice your beautiful smile before? And your laugh? It's like a beautiful melody. And… Gosh! When did he become such a sappy teenager? Oh and another thing.. He kept trying to think of something else, anything else like Katie for example but he doesn't care anymore! 

Dave goes home early with a frustrated growl. The remaining hours of the night he spends with tossing and turning and daydreaming instead of sleeping. 

(the next afternoon, Atomic Comics) 

Dave bangs his head against the wood table once again. A tired groan leaves his lips when he hears Tod almost choking on his iced coffee. 

"What the tunk, Tod?" Marty and Dave ask almost at the same time. The dirty blonde haired boy keeps pointing outside the huge window that they are sitting next to at Atomic Comics. 

"Is that fucking y/n?!" 

Now all three of them look outside the shop and see you, all dressed up nad seemingly waiting for someone. 

"Holy fuck!" Dave whispers. He stares at you, with his mouth a gap before jumping up from the booth they were sitting at and rushing outside the store. 

"Y/n! Y/-" he yells almost tripping on thin air. 

"Dave?" you question, quickly turning towards him. Damn, you missed him. No! Yeah, you did… "What do you want?" 

"What do I- What, can't I talk to you?" 

"If you wanted to talk you would have in these past days!" you say. Yes, you might have missed him, but it's not like you're gonna show it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am waiting for my date to show up." 

"Your.. Your what, now?!" 

"My date" 

"You can't go on a date!" 

"And why is that, Lizewski?" 

"Lizewski? Really, you're calling me by my surname? Are we in such a bad place right now?" 

"I don't know, you tell me. Are you going to tell me what i can and can't do, hm?" 

"I didn't mean it like that. I just…" 

"What, it's fine when you say it but when I do it with you about Katie I'm the bad friend?" 

"No,it's just-" 

"Sorry. Matt's here." you point to the street across the road where you saw the boy walk towards you. "I gotta go." 

You start walking away but Dave grabs your wrist. 

"Please, don't." he mumbles. 

"Why not?" you snap at him but your expressions soften upon your eyes land on his saddened face. 

"I- because I don't want you with him. O-or anyone." 

You raise an eyebrow. 

"What?" 

He took a deep breath before looking around. Matt was waiting patiently by the traffic light so he could cross the road. Dave quickly began explaining. 

"You were right. About Katie. I was such a dickhead, I am so sorry, y/n. I am sorry for ignoring you over her and and.." from the corner of his eye he sees the traffic light turn green. "Shit! I don't want you to go out with Greendale cause I.. Because I like you. Like really fucking like you. And oh my god you look so fucking hot in this outfit, not that you're not always hot but holy shit. I know we are just friends and you don't think of me that way but I ju-"

"Oh my god! Do you ever shut up?" you yell before pressing your lips to his. Dave stumbled back a little, but quickly recovered and kissed back. Your hands cupped his face and his hands grabbed your waist in response. You both tilled your heads, deepening the kiss earning loud knocking from Marty and Tod as they watched the whole scene through the window. Not that you noticed any of it. You didn't hear the passing by car honk at you nor the yells or whistles. You also did not notice Matthew walking away with a sad smile after seeing the two of you. Your touches intertwine and you're pretty sure you heard Dave moan slightly which causes you to giggle into the kiss. You both pull away gasping for air. You look down at your shoes, hoping to hide your flushed cheeks. Dave scratches his back and looks around nervously only to see his two idiotic friends making kissy faces. He lifts his middle finger for them before clearing his throat. 

"So.. Khm.. I guess you like me too?" 

You let out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, I do." you say looking at him with a smile.

"That's.. Fuck. That's great." he replied genuinely happy. "Wanna get out of here?" 

You nod and you take off. You take Dave's hand and he intertwines your fingers with a smile. Maybe he is truly a superhero. He helps people and he gets the girl of his dreams. The happy ending. 

Dave Lizewski taglist : @sethcohenluvr @your-hispanichufflepuff

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

Confessing to La Squadra

a/n: look i know i already have some Risotto confessing headcanons but those are more about him confessing so i'm including him here anyway

Genre: Fluff, a tiny bit of angst (but no rejection), these hoes don't know what love is lol

~Risotto Nero~

-Seriously thought you were joking when you pulled him aside and told him how you felt

-He was convinced Formaggio had put you up to this or something

-Ris feels like he isn't deserving of love (BUT HE IS) and he's literally so bad at expressing himself so he just nodded and walked away

-Had a breakdown in his office because why the fuck did he just walk away?? after you poured your heart out to him???? jesus christ what if you think he doesn't like you???????

-So he gets up and fucking sprints to your room to try to fix his mistakes

-Frantically tells you that he likes you back and would love to go out with you sometimes (you can barely understand it because he's talking so fast)

~Prosciutto~

-Saw this coming from a mile away but he won't be a bitch about it don't worry

-Takes your confession with an overwhelming amount of grace and gives you a time and place to meet him for a date the next day

-As soon as you leave he's jumping around and giggling like a child because oh my fucking god his crush likes him back holy shit!!!

-He'll panic about what he's supposed to wear. Should he just wear his regular suit? No, no no this is a special occasion! Pinstripes or no pattern? What tie would go best with this shirt? He needs to pick a suit with your favorite color, you'll like him more, right?

-Eventually caves and has Risotto pick something out for him because he literally can't (indecisive queen)

~Pesci~

-He is so INSECURE OH MY GOD

-Like Risotto, he thinks you're just fucking with him. He honest to god doesn't believe you could fall in love with someone like him

-He gets too nervous and freezes up then runs to find Prosciutto because he has no idea what to do

-Prosciutto basically screams at him to go back and find you. He can't just leave you all alone after telling him something like that!

-So he does go back and stutters out the softest "i like you too" in the world

-He'll take you for a picnic on the beach right after because he wants to make up for just leaving you standing there after he ran

~Illuso~

-BITCH MOTHERFUCKER

-He already knew because he eavesdropped on your conversation with Melone about how you should confess to him

-Sure he likes you back but he wanted you to come to him so he didn't seem desperate or something

-Teases you about it because he can't socialize for shit and probably ends up making you upset because he won't shut his god damn mouth

-So when you just walk away incredibly frustrated and probably a little teary eyed he realizes he fucked up bad

-Goes into the mirror world to scream because why can't he just be a normal person and not a little bastard

-Pops into your room from the mirror and gives you the quietest apology you've ever heard then hugs you because he feels really bad

~Formaggio~

-Another member of the team that thinks you're joking. Not because he's insecure, he's actually very confident in himself, but he jokingly flirts with you all the time so he thought you were finally playing along

-But you're not and you like him for real which makes him SO FUCKING HAPPY

-He knew he was gonna fall in love with you the day you joined the team and he's been daydreaming about your guys' first date since you went on your first mission with him

-Might be the most well prepared member of the team if I'm being honest

-He has a whole speech about how much he loves you and all the things he wants to do together and he already knows a guy that can legally marry you two

-He's so soft for you

~Ghiaccio~

-You told him how you felt when you guys were cornered during a mission and could die in literal seconds

-So when that didn't happen and you two made it out alive with the target killed, he tried to ignore your words ringing in his head

-But god damn the car ride back to Napoli was a long one and all Ghiaccio can do is think after you fell asleep in the passenger seat

-He couldn't tell if you just said you loved him because you guys were about to die or if you actually felt that way. But what if you loved him like family instead of like a boyfriend?

-And so Ghiaccio pulled over and woke you up. It was bothering him too much, he needed an answer now

-When you clarified that yes, you did love him romantically, he hugged you so hard your ribs almost broke

-mans was worrying for nothing smh

~Melone~

-He flirts with you all the time but...you actually caught feelings for him? Like genuine "I love you" feelings? Not lust? Melone seriously can't remember the last time someone actually enjoyed his presence outside of the bedroom so much that they wanted to be with him

-Mel started bawling his eyes out. Like, full on sobbing on his knees in front of you

-You thought you had done something wrong so you started apologizing which made him cry even harder (he thought you were apologizing because it was a joke)

-After he got himself back together he shakily asked you if you really meant it (which you obviously did) and after you gave him a positive answer he started crying again

-He won't let go of you for the rest of the day. He's just so happy someone finally loves him (FUCK that's sad)

~Sorbet and Gelato~

-It's a damn good thing you liked both of them. Gelato might've killed you if you only like Sorbet and Sorbet would've laughed in your face if you only liked Gelato

-So you avoided getting your face cut off but what the fuck are you supposed to do about confessing? You didn't want to become a homewrecker, it was quite obvious Sorbet and Gelato were perfectly content with nobody else in their relationship

-So you never said anything about it to anybody. God only knows what Illuso would've done if he heard you saying anything about it and the rest of the team would've let it slip eventually

-But Sorbet and Gelato always have a way of finding things out for themselves

-You were already close to the couple so when the smaller blonde man walked up to asking to see you for a second you thought nothing of it

-Until you were seated in front of them and Sorbet had broken the silence with "We know about your little secret"

-Honestly you thought you were about to die. How did they even find out? You were sure you hadn't said or done anything to hint at your feelings for them

-Gelato broke the silence this time. "Honestly, we're quite flattered both of us caught your attention."

-That didn't help ease you at all but when the both of them spoke in unison, "But don't worry about it too much, you've caught our interest as well."

-So now their murder duo is a murder trio, have fun :)