#dave with brown hair???? we love.

[motherrpearl]

the possibilities of a new beginning

pairing; five hagreeves x fem!reader (replacing dolores btw sorry)

summary; that was a shitshow of a final season. im going to fix that and you're coming with me! many references to earlier seasons!

the feeling of boiling skin overlapping his own was haunting, making his brain toss and turn like a sleepless man.

‘it's to save the world’ the thought kept repeating in his mind, ‘we must cease to exist’. closing his eyes, five was ready to embrace death, to fix the world that had been doomed to fail the moment the marigold entered their mother's wombs.

‘this isn't fair.’

beep beep beep beep. went the digital alarm clock, screaming at the sleeping man to arise for the morning. five jolted up. frantically looking around in hopes of finding his siblings.

instead, walls of creamy white, a brown dresser, comfy bed, carpeted floors — an average bedroom... where was he...?

he stared off into space for a moment, recollecting his thoughts, before he heard the whir of an electric toothbrush. “who's there?”

“ah! sleepin' beauty woke up!” a voice called back, like an echo. a familiar yet, also unfamiliar voice coming from the other room. “you've slept in, we're going to be late if you don't start moving.”

five furrowed his brows, before he looked down at his hands. they weren't scarred like they used to be, they were... oddly normal. and his umbrella tattoo — wait, what umbrella tattoo?

footsteps approached the bedroom, a woman with a white towel wrapped around her body, and another wrapping her hair up to dry. “you okay there, five?”

the electric toothbrush whirred, a bit of toothpaste stuck to the side of the lady's mouth, as she gripped the towel to keep it from falling.

five snapped out of it once the whir glitched for a second then continued. “what day is it?”

“8th of August, 2024.” she replied, knitting her brows together in concern. “did you have a bad dream?”

a dream? was it a dream? was it reality? did we fix it? is this heaven? a domestic life with the woman, who strangely looked like a mannequin he swore he saw in a shop once?

“five?” the lady snapped her finger's, attempting to get his attention. five whipped his head up to look at the woman.

“[___]?” he said, saying her name, but almost questioning. like he forgot who she was. she laughed.

“yes, [___] hargreeves, your lawfully wedded wife and love of your life.” she teased back, smiling at five when she moved over to the dresser, pulling out clothes.

their wedding... as if memories of a whole life were coming back to him, he remembers. their wedding day, how beautiful she looked in her dress.

he remembers luther and his wife, sloane, there as well.

raymond almost spilling his wine on allison's dress, which made her laugh.

klaus and his lover, dave, keeping claire and the other kids occupied while diego and lila mingled off somewhere else — just to get a breather away from the kids.

five also remembers ben, showing off his new partner, jennifer, at the wedding like she was the greatest thing in the world. while jennifer just laughed and smiled sweetly.

“how... long have we been married now?” he asks.

“2 years.” [___] says, humming herself a time as she picked out a shirt to go with her jeans. “which jeans, black or blue... oh! speakin' of jeans. the neighbours dropped off your mail this morning, mailman got mixed up.”

jeans? neighbours? — “who?”

“the neighbours? jeanette and gene? jean and gene?” [___] said back, trying to jog his memory. “your memory isn't the best today, love.”

ah! his neighbours, of course. “tell them i said thank you.” five replied, shifting hsi legs and attempting to get out of bed.

once his bare heels hit the carpet, memories came racing back to him.

raymond and allison's wedding, claire's first birthday, luther and sloane getting together, lila and diego announcing their pregnancy, opening up a diner, where ben met jennifer — meeting [___]... in the department store, setting up the mannequins in their dresses...

what was he thinking about earlier? umbrella? did he need a new one? huh? what was he thinking again?

it was like his mind was erased in just a millisecond. a lively spark in his eyes appeared. “what are we doing today?”

“grace's birthday. remember?”

grace, grace, grace. diego and lila's little girl. it was her birthday, yeah. five nodded, “yes, i do.”

“i got that coffee you like yesterday. it's on the counter, near the spice rack, also — can you make sure to grab gracie's present from the cupboard??” [___] asked before five could leave the room.

he looked over at his wife, realising this was his life. he had a good life. a life many versions of himself many people would kill to have. a domestic, and family oriented lifestyle.

the sides of five's mouth twitched up in a smile. ”of course.” he answered her, before he put on a pair of navy blue slippers and walked down the hall, checking out the decor.

cabinets and glass doors cupboards filled with souvenirs and memories. paintings and family pictures on the walls. a retro styled house phone painted in a sunset for the aesthetics.

something crunched under his feet as he walked along. looking down, he lifted up his foot. a domino mask. a fake one, it had the dc robin logo on the back, probably from on of his nieces or nephew's, they probably left it here by accident.

something about the mask made him pause. dragging his finger across the black edgings, and white eye covers. “hm...” he mused, before placing it on a shelf in hesitation and slight dazed confusion.

that mask reminded him of something he felt wasn't even real. but the thing is, he couldn't remember? maybe an alternate version of himself knew what this was about.

he smiled at the mask, and scoffed at the idea. multiple timelines? how silly.

On the twelfth hour of the eighth day of August 2024, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary occurred. You might say, it was just a normal day.

[katareyoudrilling]

The Sweepstakes: Dave York (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Porn Star Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve never been able to explore your kinks with a partner.  Could a night with a porn star give you that opportunity?

Word count: ~2.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: kink negotiation, some choking and breath play, unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms

A/N: This is rougher sex than I have written before, and I definitely got in my head about it.  Please heed the warnings, but also know that it’s still me writing it, no matter how much Dave York tried to say otherwise.  The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa.  Bonus points to anyone who can guess which performer in particular inspired this one.  Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

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Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

You can’t believe you’re standing in the room you’ve seen so many times on your laptop and phone.  White walls, hardwood floor, gauzy white curtains, and most importantly… the bed.

You take a deep, calming breath and wipe your damp palms down your leggings as pace around the room waiting for him to arrive.

It all started when you saw an ad for “The Sweepstakes” advertised on your favorite porn site.  It said, “Enter for a chance to win a night with your favorite porn star!”  You filled out the form before you could even stop to think about it.

You won and now you wait anxiously for your choice to arrive – Dave York.

You love Dave’s videos.  He can go from laughing and flirting to intense and demanding in the blink of an eye. It’s ridiculous how much that dichotomy turns you on.

You don’t feel turned on right now, though.  You feel very, very nervous.  You take another calming breath just as the doors open and Dave York walks in.

In his more scripted videos, he’s often cast as a businessman, wearing a suit and tie, or maybe just a dress shirt and slacks.  In the casual, unscripted ones, he wears all black.

That’s what he’s wearing today.

His black sweater strains across his broad, muscled shoulders.  Track pants hang low on his trim waist.  He’s clean shaven and his dark hair is short and neat. If it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze, he would probably just look like an average guy.

He’s anything but.

Dave extends his hand to you and introduces himself.  You manage to fight through the haze of nerves and arousal to do the same.

“Erin asked me to go over your sexual interest survey with you to make sure we’re on the same page, since your tastes run on the rough side.”  His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through your body sending jolts of need to your core.  It’s so much better in person than through a tiny phone speaker.

You met with the director, Erin, earlier in the day to sign releases and fill out paperwork related to your sexual history, health, and interests.  You even agreed to be filmed for your private use.  A chance like this doesn’t come around every day.

You nod and Dave looks down at the papers he’s holding.

“Let’s start with spanking, how hard do you like it?” he asks, warm brown eyes meeting yours.

“I… uhhh…. I don’t actually know,” you stammer.  Dave waits patiently for you to continue.  “My partners have never been willing to uhh… try things with me.”  That’s an understatement.  Not only have your partners not been willing, they have looked at you like you were crazy.  “I like watching it.  I like it when you do it,” you choke out, heat flooding your cheeks as you look anywhere but at him.

Dave sets the papers down on the bed and reaches for you, lifting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.”  His hypnotic, liquid chocolate gaze starts to melt the tension you’re holding in your shoulders.  “We can try these things and find out if you like them, but you have to talk to me.  If you can’t, then we can’t.  Can you do that?”

You nod.

“Say it,” he commands, but not unkindly.  Heat floods your center.

“I can do that,” you answer, a bit breathlessly.

“If you say no, or stop, or anything else to indicate something isn’t working for you, I will stop immediately.  Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he smiles and picks up the paper again.  “Let’s talk about breath play.”

A burst of adrenaline floods your body as Dave moves closer to you.  Holding your gaze, he lifts his arm and places the heal of his hand against your collarbone.  Your heart beats loudly in your ears as he gently wraps his fingers around your throat.  You can still breathe normally even as he squeezes gently.

“I will not squeeze harder than this, is this ok?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Good, remember at any time you can tell me to stop, and I will.  Now…” he removes his hand from your throat and brings it towards your mouth.  “I will only cover your nose and mouth for five seconds at a time, ok?”

“Ok,”

“Let’s practice.”

Staring intently into your eyes, he covers your nose and mouth and counts to five.  Your fingers and toes tingle as the adrenaline courses through your body.  Dave’s pupils dilate as he watches your reaction.

Five seconds isn’t very long at all, but you gulp in air when he removes his hand.  The rush goes straight to your head and you sway towards him.  Large hands steady your shoulders.

“How was that? Are you ok?” he asks, his voice husky with his own arousal.

“That was… very good,” you reply shakily.  Your pussy is already throbbing, and you’ve barely begun.

“Good,” Dave murmurs.  He’s still so close.  You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, he squeezes your arms before letting his hands drop.  “Is there anything else you want?”

“I want…” you take a shaky breath, locked into Dave’s hypnotic gaze, “to be thrown around a little.”

Dave licks his lips, “Fuck yes,” he replies, closing the distance between you.  “You want me to use you?”  His eyes are as black as his sweater as he crowds your vision.  Desire ripples off him in waves.  It hits you that he desires you and it and makes your knees weak.  You nod, hypnotized by his gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he practically growls.

You whimper yes and melt into him as he plunges his tongue into your mouth.  He’s so intense and overwhelming.  God, you hope the cameras are already recording.

Your head swims with arousal as he explores your mouth, pulling you tighter against his broad frame.  Your hands fist in his sweater as you fight the urge to climb up his body.

You break apart panting.  Dave steps back, his large hands helping keep you steady.

“I have to take this back to Erin,” he swallows and holds up your paperwork, now slightly crinkled from getting crushed between your bodies, “and give you a few minutes to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

Dave steps away from you and heads for the door.  You can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before.  You lower yourself to sit on the edge of the bed on wobbly legs.

He pauses at the door and turns back to you, “One more question.  Are you wearing underwear?”

“No,” you blurt out, surprised.  He smirks and leaves the room.

You collapse backwards onto the bed, taking in a deep lungful of air to try to calm down.  You’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.

No.

Not embarrassing, you correct yourself.

Just because your previous partners haven’t been open to trying these kinks does not make it embarrassing that you are into them.  There wouldn’t be a whole industry devoted to these things if you were the only one.  Dave certainly seems to be.

You push yourself back up to sitting.  The nerves you felt when you waited for him the first time have burned away in the wake of your arousal.  Your knee bounces impatiently as you wait for him to come back.

You pop back onto your feet when you hear the door handle begin to turn.  Dave enters the room with a question in his eye.  You nod.  There is no way you have changed your mind.

He stalks towards you like a jungle cat and pulls you into another kiss, hands cradling your face.  He’s less desperate this time, but still eager, confident, demanding.

You allow your hands to run down his sides, over the rippling muscles under his thin sweater.  You feel the divot at his hipbone, but instead of trailing down to explore the swell you feel against your abdomen, you slip your hands under his sweater and draw them up his back.

Dave chuckles and breaks the kiss, allowing you to pull his sweater off over his head.  You drag your fingers down the smooth, golden skin of his chest.  You whimper as your fingers get to the waistband of his pants.

He reclaims your mouth with a curse and turns you, so the backs of your legs knock against the side of the bed.  His large hands roam down your body and hitch under your thighs.  Before you realize what he’s doing, he lifts you up and tosses you onto the bed.

You squeal as you bounce.  But before your bottom hits the bed a second time, Dave whips your leggings down past your ass and pushes your knees into your chest.  He dives into your pussy like a man starved.

Your squeals of surprise rapidly turn into moans as his expert tongue sweeps over your throbbing cunt.  His question about underwear makes sense now.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the bedding as Dave presses you open and feasts at your core.

All the buildup of being here, discussing your list, and finally getting to kiss and touch the subject of so many of your fantasies has you pulsing against his mouth in no time.

Dave pulls back from you to stand by the bed with a satisfied smirk on his face, pulling your leggings the rest of the way off and tossing them on the floor.

As your orgasm fades, leaving you boneless on the bed, you can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face, or the laugh that escapes your chest.

“What’s so funny,” Dave watches you from beside the bed, eyes twinkling.

“You just… just…. that was so good and I’m just so glad I’m here,” you smile up at him.  You’re no longer nervous.  You’re excited to be here and experience all of this with him.

“I’m glad you’re here too.”  Dave begins to pull down his track pants and you scramble up and over to him to kneel eagerly at the side of the bed.  Now it’s Dave’s turn to laugh.  “Do you want something, beautiful?”

You preen internally at the nickname and don’t even bother to hide your enthusiasm.

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Look who has things to say now.  I think that orgasm loosened your tongue,” he teases you gently, his eyes flashing with humor and want as he frees the cock you’ve been dreaming about.

He’s so perfect.

You lick your lips and pull your top over your head before lining up to take him in your mouth.  Dave hisses as you draw him in.  He strokes your cheek and neck as he watches you.

With every flick of your tongue the ache between your legs builds, until you’re moaning around him with every stroke.

You pop off to catch your breath and Dave eagerly claims your mouth.  He climbs on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crowding your vision, never taking his mouth of you.  He kisses down your neck and nips at your shoulders and breasts as he lines up at your entrance.

“You ready for this cock, beautiful?”

You nod and pull him towards you with your heels.

“So eager for it,” Dave growls as he presses into your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you so perfectly.  He plies you with long, firm strokes, pressing you deeper into the mattress, covering your body with his.

He’s all you can see and feel and you melt beneath him, giving yourself over to the force of him.  Your orgasm begins to build in the distance, but before it can take hold, Dave rolls the two of you so that you’re now on top.

His hands stroke up your torso, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples as you adjust to the new angle.

Dave pistons up into you, his abdominal muscles tensing with the effort.  His strong hands hold your hips firmly against him.  A boldness you’ve never felt before washes over you as you grasp one of his hands and bring it to your throat.

He places his hand exactly as he said he would, at the base of your throat.  You lean into him, knowing you are in control and could lean back at any time, but the theoretical danger of it sizzles under your skin.  His strong fingers squeeze slightly sending dizzying waves of pleasure through your body.

You stare into his eyes, never breaking contact, as he brings you to the brink.  Your clit throbs, seeking the friction of his body, you’re so close to breaking when he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach.

He drags your hips in the air and presses your shoulders down onto the bed as he drives into you and smacks your ass.  Your pussy clenches in response.

“You like that don’t you?”

“Yes, oh my god yes,” you babble incoherently.

“I feel that tight pussy grabbing me.”  He smacks your ass again for emphasis and you clench around him again.

He is so deep in this position.  He thrusts into you slowly, dragging his cock against your sensitive walls, allowing the orgasm to ebb away in favor of slow sensation punctuated with the stinging of his palm.

You press your hips back into him, savoring every thrust and allowing your mind to drift.  You are not in control here.  He will move you when he’s ready, you don’t have to think, just feel.

Seemingly to prove your point, he pulls out and flips you once again.  This time onto your side before pulling you into his chest.

His strong arms band around your hips and shoulders as he enters your slippery cunt from behind.  You are at his mercy and nothing has ever made you feel more alive.

He nibbles at your ear as he spews praise and filth under his breath – how good you feel, how wet you are, how he’s going to make you come so hard.

You don’t doubt his promises and when his hand comes up to cover your mouth, all you can do is take and take and take his cock.

You are only need and sensation, unable to move other than how he moves you.  Everything else falls away except the white hot pleasure taking over your body.  He has edged you over and over and you half expect him to do it again, but this time your climax is barreling towards you at full force.

“Give it to me,” Dave demands in your ear, and you launch off a cliff.

He removes his hand and you gasp for air, sparks clouding your vision.  He doesn’t let up as you pulse and scream around him.  He presses on your mound, intensifying the waves of pleasure wracking through your body.

He stutters and moans raggedly behind you, emptying himself into your fluttering pussy.

You sag against him, spent and floating.  He presses kisses between your shoulder blades and up your neck as he helps disentangle your bodies.

You catch your breath, staring at the ceiling above you and then over at the glistening man next to you.

“That was…. amazing.”  A whole new world has been opened to you, and you definitely like it.  “Thank you.”

Dave props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you, angular jaw and aquiline nose catching the light of the fading sunset.

“That was just round one, beautiful.  You have me all night.”  He winks before kissing you once again.

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

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[fhatbhabiee]

Punto De Perder | Part 2

Frankie Morales x Reader ft Dave York

word count: 1.2k

warnings: DDDNE- some content in this fic might be sensitive to some. pink italics is flashback from readers pov, blue italics is flashback from Frankie's pov, regular italics are thoughts. to avoid any spoilers that's all the warnings i'm going to give. read at your own risk

note: so i wanted to make this a 2 parter but if y'all know me i'm no two hitter quitter- so yes there's gonna be one more part! also if you haven't read part 1 please do so you're not lost! linked down below.

part 1 , part 3

Here's the link!

Your finger hovered over the link your friend sent you, mind pondering if you should even click it. It's just pen pals. There's no harm in it right? You tapped the link and scrolled through the pictures and names of all the inmates until you found his picture. You nearly laughed seeing how beautiful yet intimidating he looked. Dark brown curly hair, dark blue baseball cap, and a few tattoos.

“Hello Francisco Morales…” you whispered before tapping on his profile.

The door opened, letting a small amount of light into the room. You didn't bother looking up, it was pointless.

“Cmon.” the man grunted as he walked over and grabbed your arm, helping you sit up. When he sat you up you looked down and noticed the cuffs around your ankles were gone.

“Where are we going?”

“To clean you up.” he wrapped a blind fold over your eyes and got you on your feet walking you out of the room. You tried using your other senses, to figure out where the hell this man had you, but before you knew it he put you in a car and closed the door. You felt defeated, wondering when this hell was gonna end.

—

You sat in the room, looking around and seeing other people waiting on their loved ones. Suddenly a buzzer went off, making you flinch. You were nervous- you've never done this before, you didn't know what to expect.

He was the last to walk in. His hair messy, dark teal jumpsuit covering his broad body, and as soon as he locked eyes with you- a smile spread across his lips. You felt out of breath, you could hear your heart beating in your ears and it felt like the world around you was moving in slow motion.

“Frankie?”

He chuckled, saying your name in the form of a question and holding his hand out to you.

“Yeah that's me.” you smiled back, reaching over the table and shaking his hand. You never really thought you had small hands but compared to Frankie's they might as well have been Polly Pocket-sized.

As the visit went on you realized something. You'd been talking to this man for months via pen and paper, but sitting right here in front of him- it felt like you've known each other for years.

The next time you visited you were practically bouncing up and down in your seat when the door opened and all the inmates walked into the room. Frankie laughed when he saw you, giving you your nickname. Conejita.

“Here.”

You snapped out of your trance and looked over at the man who was handing you a towel and a change of clothes. You looked around the room, realizing that you had appeared into a bathroom.

How the hell did I get here?

“Take a shower and get dressed. I'll be waiting outside of the bathroom.”

It wasn't until now that you got a good look at the man. His face was clean shaven, hair was short- kept professional. You didn't know if it was your mind playing tricks on you but he kinda looked like Frankie…

“Go on.” he muttered, opening the glass shower door for you.

After a much needed shower, you opened the bathroom door and just as he said, he was there, waiting. He eyed you up and down and nodded. He placed his hand on your lower back and walked you down the hallway into a room with no windows. It looked like the other room he had you in but at least in this one, you had an actual bed.

“You'll be staying here. But you're gonna be working.”

You turned around and faced him. “Working..?”

“I got 2 girls. Need someone to take care of them while I'm at work.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “What makes you think-”

He reached up, gripping your jaw tightly. “Because you're gonna do as I say when I say. Unless you want to go back into the hole.”

The thought of going back to the other room made tears fill your eyes. You were there for a few months… maybe longer. You didn't really know, kinda lost track of time in there. What you did know is that you secretly hoped for death to take you so you didn't have to live through the hell he had put you through.

“Fine..” you whispered. He let out a dark chuckle, his eyes going from brown to black.

“Good girl.”

— • —

He held onto the envelope full of letters and pictures with a tight grip as the guard swiped his key card. No words were exchanged, Frankie just nodded at the guard and walked out. His eyes scanned the parking lot, secretly hoping that you'd be there to pick him up, and that these last few months were just a nightmare. But the only familiar face he saw was Will’s- Benny’s brother.

“Prison did you good.” Will teased, patting Frankie on the back.

Frankie chuckled. “Thanks Will. Benny sends his love”

“I know you're lying.” Will laughed. “Cmon let's get you home.”

Home…

“So I finally moved out of that shitty apartment and I just finished moving in the other day. It's really nice- modern townhouse. It's got two bedrooms and one and a half baths.”

“Two bedrooms huh?” Frankie chuckled.

“Yeah I figured we can use the extra room for storage or if you wanna turn it into one of them man caves.” you smiled.

“I think we can find another use for the extra room conejita…”

You leaned back in your seat, raising your eye brow.

“De verdad? Y que piensas mi amor?” (Oh really? And what are you thinking my love?)

He shrugged, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “How about a baby?”

Your eyes widened, he knew you had been thrown off by the baby comment. But there was something in him that wanted nothing but a family- a life with you.

You smiled and gently grabbed his hand. “I think that sounds like a good idea.”

“Fish.” Will called out, pulling Frankie from his thoughts. He didn't realize that Will had already pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Your apartment complex. Seeing as he gave his parole officer this address, he had no choice but to come here. If he was gonna find you he couldn't fuck up his parole.

“Thanks Will…”

“Want me to come in? Maybe I can help?”

Frankie shook his head. “I appreciate it but.. I need you to go to the storage unit. Bring me all the boxes.”

Will nodded, knowing exactly what Frankie was talking about. “I got you.”

Frankie used the spare key you had hidden in the outside light fixture and walked into the apartment, eyes scanning the mess left behind. Broken coffee table, broken glass from a picture frame that used to be on the wall- you put up one hell of a fight. But knowing Dave, he fought harder.

Hours later he stepped back and admired the work he put together with the help of Will. Pictures, paperwork- everything was tacked up on the wall, with a red string connecting it all.

“That all we have?” Will asked. Frankie shook his head, walking over to the dining table and pulled out the polaroid Santi had given him. He walked back to the wall and pinned the polaroid in the middle of the creation.

“I'm gonna find you conejita. Te lo prometo.” (I promise.)

beta'd: @nerdieforpedro 💕

divider: @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist — Frankie Morales Masterlist

[aishnico]

#𝘿𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝙂𝙍𝙊𝙃𝙇: 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦

» summary: after an exhausting day, you felt like all heavy lifts were leaving your body when you saw your husband and daughter together playing

» word count: 1.3k

» warnings: none, just pure fluff, a little bit of nsfw content, lord of the rings content, grammar issues

there's nothing like coming home to your beloved ones after an exhausting day. and your heart melted when you saw your husband and your daughter playing one of the most iconic scenes of 'return of the king', where eowyn kills the lord of the nazgul.

when dave came back from the tour, your daughter clung to him like there was no tomorrow, and she refused to let him move at the moment. she was kind of offended by him because according to her, he was gone for too long. he promised to spend a lot of time both with her and you. so here we are, watching their little play. and you decided to watch them silently.

dave was approaching a toy horse with a large dragon plush between his legs. you couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. he was wearing a silver colored helmet which was made from cardboard with thorns. at the area where his eyes and mouth were colored in black. meanwhile, your daughter was wearing a simple silver helmet, only her eyes could be seen. which is also made from cardboard. your daughter then stood in front of her horse with her sword. "i will kill you if you touch him!" she hissed at him.

"do not come between a nazgul and his prey..." he spoke with a deep raspy voice. he then shoved his dragon quickly towards her. but she was fast enough to hit its head with her sword. he then fell to the ground, and she grabbed her cardboard shield. after he shot a glance at her he got up. swinging his morning star it was a plastic black ball with little thorns on it, and was tied with a rope while walking towards her. he quickly started to swing it towards her carefully, he didn't want to harm her, even slightly and make squeak noises. he hit her shield and it fell on the floor.

she was on the ground now, looking frightened. "you fool, no man could kill me." he said before holding her throat, not squeezing it. suddenly, you found a little sword on floor and after grabbing it you slightly hit your husband's back.

Your daughter (completely unbothered when you joined them) got up and took out her helmet, revealing her long, brown hair. "i am no man." she said before hitting his head slightly. he let out a squeak again and fell to the floor. she then approached you. "mommy, you saved me!" she ran up to you and hugged you tightly. you couldn't help but smile and kiss her cheek. "and you, saved thousands of soldiers by killing him!"

"i want a kiss too!" you heard your husband's whine when he took off his helmet. looking at him sweetly while he gets behind you and hugs you two, squeezing tightly. "daddy, can't breathe!" she whined.

"i'll let you go if you'll draw the little play of ours." "fine!" she replied and rushed to upstairs.

"careful there!" you shouted at her. you were now trapped between your husband's arms. tucking your hair strands behind your ear, kissing your forehead. "welcome home, sweetheart." you felt him smile on your head.

"even if i saw you just this morning, i already missed you all." you murmured while burying your head in his chest.

"i prepared a bath for you, go and relax there. after that, we can eat the meal together. she got hungry so she couldn't wait for you. i cooked your favourite, she helped me too!"

"oh dave..." you swore your eyes teared up. "i... love you so much. thank you."

"shh, no need to thank. go and relax now." he gently pushed you before giving you a peck.

you went upstairs and before you entered the bathroom, you peeked in your daughter's room. she was lying on her stomach and drawing what dave had asked her while swinging her legs. you were sure you were all going to watch a cartoon in the living room all night.

you entered the bathroom. after stripping, you entered in hot water. a relaxed sound leaving your mouth. soon you felt like your eyes were going to shut and you couldn't resist anymore.

you heard a knock on the door. you sat properly and waiting for a voice.

"babe? are you alright there?" you heard your husband's worried voice.

"uh, yeah." you responded, but you knew it didn't convince him. "if you don't mind, can you open the door?" he asked. you got up and unlocked the door, not minding to cover your body. not like he hasn't ever seen it.

"let me wash your hair and back." you smiled at him. "thank you babe, but you've already done such things. i'll be at the kitchen after like 10 minutes."

"babe, if you think you're acting like a child or a burden to me, just know you absolutely aren't. i'm willing to help you even in the simplest things." he stated. smiling to you genuinely.

"well then, i wouldn't mind if someone washed my hair." you answered to him while entering the tub again. he sat behind you. grabbing your shampoo and pouring a little on his palm. then rubbing and massaging slowly around your head. You swore a heavy lift was leaving your body. You just enjoyed the moment by relaxing under his touch.

"feeling good honey?" he asked you. you hummed at his question. "you're so good with your hands, baby." "oh yeah? what else i'm good at with my hands?" he chuckled. "hm, playing guitar, cooking?" you answered. "hm, what else ?" you suddenly understood what he meant. "david!" you raised your voice to him and he just laughed. "i'm joking babe!"

soon after you got clean and after drying yourself you were eating the food that was made by your husband and daughter. (you were sure your daughter insisted on adding more salt because she thought it was better) he wanted to talk about your day. but you said it was tough and not even worth talking about. so he was talking about funny memories that he hasn't told you yet from tour. you held yourself from not laughing while the food was inside your mouth. but your eyes got filled because of it.

after finishing the food, he helped you to wash the dishes. he sang you a new song he wrote a couple of days ago. you shared your opinions about it, telling him it would be better if he changed couple of words. but you didn't forget to praise his voice.

you three were lying on the couch now, watching some cartoon you'd find on TV. you were lying your head in your husband's chest while he laid his on yours. whispering sweet nothings to him quietly while he rubs his hand on your waist. his other hand was around your daughter's waist. she already fell asleep. also forgot to show you the drawing she made.

you carefully sat on his lap, wrapping your arms between his neck. and smooching his face with kisses. he couldn't stop giggling. he looked at his peacefully sleeping daughter. he gently pushed her away a little. wrapping both of his hands on your waist.

"you know, i'm so lucky to have both of you." you started. finally resting your head on his shoulder. "i don't, no... i can't even imagine my life without you. you both are my strength, you both are the reason i want to wake up every day. i love you, you can't even imagine it. thank you dave, for everything."

he looked at you confused. "why are you talking like you're leaving or dying? we are not going anywhere." he paused. "well, i may go often but i still come back home to you. you two are my home, and i don't want it to change even if a little bit. i'm willing to do everything to make you both happy. i love you sweetheart." he paused again to pat his daughter's head gently. "i love you too, my little heroine."

soon after, you two fell asleep in each other's embrace.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 28 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2167 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

For the first time in days, I felt something beyond apathy, even if it was a messy mix of sadness, anger, and confusion. How could he think I hated him? How could he think I didn't love him, that he wasn't enough, that I wouldn't do anything to have him around? It wasn't fair. It was tearing me up inside.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle

✧ On the night that we met / I looked cool, rolling cigarettes / You were fooled by my jokes / I was too, I didn't know you / And I woke up alone / In a frozen, broken home / And my cousin gave me the flu / So, I flew back to L.A., but not back to you ✧

Cliff stuck around for most of the next week. If my parents found it odd that I moved back in with them and got dumped by my boyfriend out of nowhere, they didn't say a word. Honestly, I hadn't seen them so thrilled in ages. Yet, in my bitter and gloomy state, I could only picture that their joy, especially my mom's, had more to do with having me back under their thumb, away from friendships and romances they didn't approve of, than actually having their daughter back in their lives.

A couple of days later, Cliff and my dad rolled out to grab my stuff. I felt kinda bad for dragging Cliff into all this mess; first, he drove all the way from LA to Long Beach to bring me home on that rainy Sunday, and then he had to make the trip back to LA to snag my motorcycle and all the other junk still hanging around the apartment Dave and I used to share. Even if I had the guts to go, I knew Cliff and my dad wouldn’t have let me. So, I just stayed behind in Long Beach, sprawled on my bed, watching the sunlight lazily dance across the ceiling, the hours ticking away without any real purpose.

Of course, Cliff offered to help me unpack everything afterward; I figured he just wanted to make sure I wouldn't try to tackle it solo. I'd been so zoned out and drained during the last few days that anything that could be remotely unsettling to me had become a shared concern between him and my parents. I played it cool, ignoring the hushed comments they exchanged when they thought I couldn't hear; their worries about how fragile I supposedly was, that I might not be strong enough to bounce back.

I just sat on my bed, watching in silence as Cliff lugged in box after box; my clothes, my records, my whole life from the past few months, all packed and sorted like it meant nothing. He dropped the last box on the floor with a grunt before settling down next to me on the bed.

"Ready?" he asked, his fingers running through my dark brown hair, untangling some of the knots that had formed in the past few days. Despite my mom's attempts to help me, I hadn't mustered the strength to care about my appearance lately. I shook my head no, my gaze unfocused, and Cliff held my hand before saying, "Hey, it's okay. We can head downstairs, grab a bite. What do you think?"

"No," I murmured, my voice coming out hoarse and faltering from lack of use. "No, let's get this over with now."

"Okay," Cliff said, getting up, seeming pumped that I had finally said something. It hit me that those were indeed my first words of the day. "I'll grab this box with your clothes, and you can sort out that small one over there."

I sighed, giving a nod. Despite not being a pro at organizing my room, Cliff kept pushing to shield me, tackling the bulkier and trickier tasks. It didn't really lift my spirits; if anything, I felt guilty for piling all this work on him. But I pushed those thoughts away as I sat on the floor, cracking open a box and checking out what was inside.

I let out a sigh when I stumbled upon my vinyl record collection, and there was my jewelry box tucked into an extra space. I grabbed it, popping it open and blinking when I found an envelope inside. I tore it open, pulling out the blue necklace Dave had given me for my birthday. I hadn't worn it when I went to grab my jacket at Mike's house, but now its chain was broken, and that made my throat tighten because I knew it was intact the last time I had it on.

I couldn't help but wonder if Dave had broken it, if his anger toward me was so intense that he wanted to wreck one of the gifts he'd given me. Giving the envelope a shake to be sure there was nothing else inside, a little piece of paper tumbled into my lap. I picked it up, curious, my eyes filling with tears as I read what was written on it.

I'm sorry for being such a shitty person. I never meant to hurt you; I'm so sorry I wasn't enough. Just please promise you won't forget me, or at least that you won't hate me forever.

I started bawling before even finishing the note, tossing the paper away. For the first time in days, I felt something beyond apathy, even if it was a messy mix of sadness, anger, and confusion. How could he think I hated him? How could he think I didn't love him, that he wasn't enough, that I wouldn't do anything to have him around? It wasn't fair. It was tearing me up inside.

Cliff swiftly ditched the box he was packing and plopped down next to me, giving me a tight hug, pulling me close to his chest as tears rolled down my face. He hoisted me up like it was nothing, carrying me over to my bed and lying down beside me, wrapping me up in his arms and whispering that everything would be okay. I could barely hear him, though, drowning in my own distress.

It took a while for me to calm down, but he didn't leave my side for a second, his fingers running through my hair in a comforting move as I buried my face in his chest. When my tears finally dried up, all that lingered was silence; silence and exhaustion as I tried to brush off the pulsating emptiness in my chest.

"Maybe you should talk to him," Cliff finally murmured, sounding hesitant, like his words might trigger another round of tears, which, honestly, wasn't too far off the mark. "If you like him so much, you should talk to him."

"Cliff, I can't... I can't do it," I whispered, my voice faltering. And it was true; I couldn't talk to him without breaking into tears. Worse, if he didn't want to listen, if he didn't want to believe me, it felt like I could shatter into a million pieces. All I wanted was to have him back, but I didn't know what I would do if he rejected me, if nothing worked out, and that scared me beyond words.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm sorry," he said, kissing my cheek and holding me close. "It will pass, I promise. Everything will be okay."

I gave a nod, sniffling as I wiped my face, that same apathy from before hitting me even harder. But Cliff's embrace made me feel a bit better. It was like slipping into something familiar: the scent of his skin, his hair, just like back in the day when we were kids and used to crash at each other's places, just to end up sleeping on the same bed. I couldn't help but feel grateful he was there with me.

"You know..." Cliff started, then hesitated. "James really cares about you. You know he didn't want this to happen, right?"

I stayed silent. Thinking about James over the past few days was something I consciously avoided, mostly because I was pissed. Not necessarily at him, but more about how everything went down between us. He'd tried calling me a few times since Sunday, but I swerved all his calls. I just didn't have the energy to deal with him right now, to unravel the whirlwind of emotions he stirred up. And I knew that, despite all the pain from the breakup with Dave, my feelings weren't any less intense: I still loved him, and that hurt me the most.

Cliff didn't push it. We just hung there, wrapped up in each other's arms until I eventually crashed out. Despite it all, being with him made me feel secure; sheltered and loved, for the first time since everything went sideways.

Things didn't exactly get easier after Cliff left. He didn't want to bail, but I knew he had band commitments and, let's be real, there was no legit reason for him to keep babysitting me. Those wounds weren't magically gonna heal overnight, after all.

December rolled in, and my parents decided to whisk me off on a European trip to shake things up. Yet, despite the change of scenery, it was hands down one of the crappiest New Year's of my life. I'd paid a jeweler to patch up the chain of my necklace, and started wearing it as a bracelet all the time. At first, that hurt too, but as days rolled by, the pain and sadness twisted into a strange kind of fondness.

Post New Year's, we rolled back to Long Beach. While my parents were busy fine-tuning their grand plans for my education over the next few years, I was on a mission to piece myself back together, bit by bit. Long Beach hadn't changed much in a year, and I found myself gravitating back to some of my high school buddies. Charlotte, a Drama Club friend, became my main go-to. She'd hopped on the theater train after graduation, and I started tagging along to rehearsals, first as a spectator, then as an assistant.

Most importantly, I dove back into art, especially drawing. Most of the time, I ended up sketching everything I could recall about Dave — his hands, his hair, his eyes, the curve of his lips, the way his nose crinkled when he grinned. All the things I longed to have back. All the things I couldn't bear to forget. Turns out, my drawing and painting skills, though a bit rusty from the neglect, hadn't completely ditched me.

The end of January rolled in fast. On a particularly chilly and gloomy day, I got a call from Cliff.

"Hey, Nore," he greeted me, the usual laid-back tone in his voice.I could almost picture him chilling on the couch, probably puffing on a cigarette while holding the phone with one hand. "How are you?"

"I... I'm okay," I replied, though the truth was, I was still working on getting there. "And how 'bout you guys?"

"Ah, we're good. Same old," Cliff answered. I hesitated. I almost asked if he had any news about Dave, but then it hit me — I was scared as hell to hear the answer. Scared he hated me. Scared he forgot me. Scared he moved on, or worse, still loved me. So, I didn’t ask, and he didn't tell me. "Listen, I got an invite for you."

"An... Invite?" I asked, a bit on edge. I'd been cocooning myself in a bubble for the past few months, keeping crazy busy to dodge thinking about all the drama with me, Dave, and James. I wasn't sure if I was ready to peel away from the safety of that isolation, but I figured I might as well hear Cliff out. "What invite?"

"Well, the guys and I locked in a tour... in Europe. Just a handful of gigs, you know, but I was thinking if you'd be up for joining us."

"Oh. I literally just got back from Europe, Cliff. Spent New Year's there."

"Really? I had no clue," the classic irony in his voice made me scoff, rolling my eyes. "I won't bug you if you're not up for it, but it's gonna be our first international tour. Oh, and we're opening for Venom, by the way. I just reckon you'd be a dummy to pass on this chance."

"Alright, fine. I'm in," I agreed, more to keep him happy than for any other reason. My stomach did a bit of a flip, the thought of facing Lars, Kirk, and especially James again stirring up a cocktail of excitement, nervousness, and anxiety. "But you gotta work your magic on my parents."

"I've already had a chat with them. Your old man thought it'd be a good plan for you to shake things up a bit. It's just ten days; we'll be back before you know it. Deal?"

"Okay," I murmured, trying to suppress the little grin that insisted on spreading through my face. "I'll go, then."

"Cool, I'll tell the others," Cliff replied, his laid-back tone now tinged with excitement. "I'm stoked you're coming... Missed you, you know?"

"Yeah, I missed you too," I said with a smile.

For a second, it almost felt like I could shove the sadness that had been trailing me for weeks into the background. I'd been to gigs before, sure, but tagging along on a tour was a whole new deal. And hell yeah, catching Venom live, one of the bands the guys and I worshiped, got me buzzing. Maybe, just maybe, letting myself get swept up in this distraction wasn't such a bad idea.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time to start living again.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777

[whiskeynwriting]

MBFD - Chapter Eleven: You Weren’t Supposed To Know

Dave York x Female Reader

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Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Dirty talk, daddy kink, small size kink, grinding/dry humping, oral (m receiving), skinny dipping/slight public nudity, tanning, blood, violence, mentions of death

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A/N: Really didn’t expect this chapter to be so short, but here we are. And no, I’m not sorry about the cliffhanger 🤪

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Uncertainty is a funny word. You’ve felt uncertain in your life before, uncertain about job opportunities, a grade on an exam. Uncertain, unsure, of the outcome. And the feelings surrounding that sensation - anxiety, worry, fear, all of them are the same as what you feel now. But you definitely don’t feel uncertain. No, this is a different feeling altogether. Uncertain means unknowing, and you definitely know what you’re walking into, you know the outcome of your actions, or at least, you think you do. 

The way the familiar feeling of anxiety sinks heavily into your gut, the way adrenaline fizzes through your veins and pops at every nerve ending, the way saliva tingles on your tongue from the nerves bubbling high into your throat. Every sensation is heightened, your eyes darting around the extremely large and open room, the narrow passageways that open up into lines for terminals and cafés. 

Just barely, your fingers tremble, fishing out the phone that is currently buzzing in your pocket. Swallowing, you take in a shaky breath, unlocking it.

Stuffing your phone back into your pants pocket, you sigh, returning it with a deep inhale. You’d told Molly about this trip, insisting that you ‘needed some time to yourself’. You just couldn't bring yourself to lie to her. She knew you were going to Spain and that you were going alone, and honestly, she was really worried. But you expected that from her, she loves you like a sister. 

Running a hand over your face, you take in a deep and somewhat calming breath. All you need to do is find David. You know he’ll handle the rest. But honestly, it’s not even about ‘handling’ it. You know how to walk through an airport, you know how to find your terminal and check your bags, arrive early enough to get a bite to eat. It’s just about the people, there’s so many people. Anyone could recognize you; family members, friends of friends, acquaintances. What if someone sees you with him? But right next to your wild worries is the reminder of Spain. Once you’re in Spain, you’re home free. You’re certain no one will recognize you there. 

A few more steps forward, and the crowd is clearing, your terminal quickly appearing. Dave insisted on picking you up and driving to the airport together, but you told him you’d be fine on your own. You could just meet at the terminal. But up until now, you’d been dreading that decision. 

Further ahead stands a man in a dark brown coat, long enough to almost touch the ground. He’s standing beside his luggage, only a duffle bag on the bench just a foot or so behind him. His slate dress pants match the baby blue button up covering his upper half, the red tie sitting along his chest a nice touch to his outfit. His hair is done neatly, the watch on his wrist lifting to his face as he checks the time, now glancing around. And then he finds you, a wide smile brimming on his lips. Immediately, your worries fade away. 

“Baby,” He calls quietly, but you can hear him. You’d know his voice anywhere.

And before you even reach his open arms, you notice something… different about him. His facial hair. Just barely, a thin coat of stubble covers his chin and jaw, a little bit growing on his cheeks, too. And even though he’s in his business suit, it makes him look rugged, the scruff dark with a few gray hairs shining through.

“Hey,” With a sleepy smile, you approach him, hands dropping from their tight grip on your backpack’s straps.

Instantly, he’s reaching for you, cupping your face with both hands and bringing you in. The kiss he gives practically shoves every ounce of worry weight from your shoulders, your body relaxing into him.

“How are you, princess?” He murmurs, pressing his forehead to your own, his hands unmoving. “Did you get here okay? Do you have everything you need?”

Genuinely, he’s everything you need. 

Nodding, you offer a peaceful grin, looking up at him. With a relaxing sigh, you reply with, “I’m okay, baby. Just tired. Nervous, I guess.”

Frowning, he looks you over, heart warming from seeing you in your comfy state. It’s cute, you in your sweatpants with him in his business attire. 

With a kiss to your hairline, he loops an arm around your shoulders, gently pulling you with him as he walks over to the bench. “Come sit with me.” 

The bench is cold but David is warm, your body instantly snuggling into his side. With soft tugs, he pulls your backpack away from you, letting your muscles rest while you wait. And his arm doesn’t leave, either. It stays, rubbing you lovingly. 

“I don’t want you to be nervous, baby. This is supposed to be our trip, right?”

“Yeah.” Again, he kisses your forehead, the butterflies in your tummy flapping wildly. He’s so sturdy, so handsome and he smells so good. It’s barely been two days but you missed him, you always miss him. “Just… don’t want anyone to see us. Not here, ya know?”

“I know, princess.” He coos in response, murmuring against your skin. “Just wait until we get to Spain…” And the way he says it already makes you tingle inside, his closest hand brushing over your thigh. 

Shocking you out of your peaceful lull is the shrill ring of your phone. Both of you jump from it, you groaning and David laughing. But when you pull it out to see who it is, neither of you are wearing happy faces.

“Hey, Goof. Everything okay?” 

“Okay, so I know I just got done texting you,” She replies enthusiastically on the other end, oblivious to your nervy tone. “But girl Anthony is at practice right now!”

“Wait, what?”

“I know! Valerie told me; I didn’t go today, I’ve been studying. But she told me to tell you. Apparently, he’s asking for you.”

And now, you hesitate to respond. Dave is right next to you, and while he knows about this particular ex, you’d rather not talk about your past relationship in front of him. You’d rather not talk about your past relationship at all.

“Are you okay?” Back at the York home, Molly frowns, sensing your hesitancy. 

“Yeah, I’m just, I don't know…” Desperately, you try to make up some sort of excuse in your head. “I know you’re at home and I just, I don’t want anyone hearing about him, ya know? We don’t exactly talk about him in the best light.” And toward the end of your sentence, you laugh, trying to appear nonchalant through the phone. 

Honestly, Molly understands this. She knows you wouldn’t want to talk about your sex life in front of her family. Because that’s really all Anthony was to you, casual sex. And now, he’s not anything to you.

“Pfft, don’t worry, my parents aren’t even home right now. My dad’s on a work trip.” She exaggerates, sighing. “And besides, you spend so much time over here that he’s practically your dad, too. He doesn’t care about any of that.”

While you’d been trying to keep your conversation hush, David has been listening to every second of it. And now, he’s grinning. Moving his arm from your shoulders, he chooses to wrap it around your lower back, his hand hugging your hip as he pulls you further into him. Lowering his head, he leans in, kissing the soft skin of your cheek. 

“Yeah,” Laughing shakily, you sigh, feeling his lips on you. And then he’s moving lower, barely brushing them over your jawline, and then pressing them firmly to your neck. “But I, uh…” With a quick inhale, you clear your throat, feeling David nuzzle his nose into you. He’s so protective over you, even without saying a single thing. “I have to go though, Goof. My plane’s leaving soon.” And you don’t even know if that’s the truth but having her dad’s lips on you is making this conversation impossible to continue. 

“Okay! I just figured I’d tell you. You know I love the gossip.” She giggles, and already, you miss your best friend.

“I know you do.” Grinning, you then nibble on your lip, feeling David’s fingers squeeze your hip. “I’ll talk to you soon.” 

“Okay, love you!”

“I love you, too.”

You’re barely able to end the call before David is pulling your phone away from you and setting it on the bench. With that same hand, he grabs your jaw, forcing your face in his direction so he can kiss you. 

“So I’m your daddy now, too, huh?” He grumbles, eyes closing as he breathes out against you. 

“David…” Cheeks running hot, you cross your legs, smiling timidly beneath him.

“Am I a good daddy, baby?”

His physical and verbal attention has never flustered you more, mainly due to your public setting. You feel dizzy, completely light-headed and hot against him. Giggling girlishly, you lean in, pressing your lips to his. Already, his mouth is wet, tongue seeking out your own. 

“You’re the best daddy,” Lifting a hand to his cheek, you release a contended breath. “The best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Now, it’s time for you to melt him. He’s putty in your hands when you speak so sweetly to him. “I love you, honey.” 

But before you can return the sentiment, an announcement comes through the speakers, your plane now boarding. And when you look up, pretty eyes gazing at him so kindly, he grins. “Let’s go to Spain, baby. Just you and me.” 

It’s comfortable here, in the luxury hotel his work had put him in. And you’d like to think he’d buy you an apartment just as nice. Maybe even a house - wow you’re really letting yourself get carried away with this. But of all times, now would be the best to let your fantasies come to life. 

“I knew this’d be the first thing you did.” Dave laughs breathily, one arm tucked lazily behind his head. 

His other hand is in your hair, fingers combing it lovingly. When strands fall, he’ll brush them away from your pretty face, when you cry he wipes your tears away. He’s here for you, no matter what you do. 

“And you do it so good, too…” 

You’re only crying from the force of it, of his thick erection sliding down your throat. Honestly, how could this not be the first thing you do when he does something like this? He’s taking you on the best vacation of your life. 

On the plane, he made sure you were not only comfortable, but cozy. He asked for a heated blanket, knowing the cabin was too cold for your liking. When it came, he wrapped you in it, offering you the drink menu. It was all so fancy, you’d never traveled first class like this. Before takeoff, he plugged in all the electronics that needed charging, made sure you had everything you needed, and ordered your drink for you. By the time you were finished sipping on your beverage, it was lights out. You’d napped for a few hours, leaning on his shoulder while he worked. Dave had his laptop out on the pull-down tray, answering emails and detailing documents. 

Dave enjoyed the sensation of your weight resting on him. For some reason, it made him feel loved - important. If only he knew how important he really was to you. While he was daydreaming about you, you were dreaming about him. You’d imagined living together, laying in bed before he leaves for work in the morning. Snuggling up on his lap, he sat against the headboard, answering a few emails before getting dressed for the day. In your dream, he played with your hair, pet your head and called you his baby. It was a sweet thought, warming you from the inside out, even beneath your heated blanket.

You sleeping beside him also served another purpose, besides that of basic rest. It allowed him to check your electronics. He could’ve tried to do it while plugging them in, but he didn’t want to risk it. While you were snoozing beside him, he was able to connect your phone to his laptop, checking on the chip he’d planted in it. He did so a few days ago, wanting to be sure of your location on the trip. Dave knew he’d have to leave you alone on occasion to complete his… tasks, and wanted to make sure you were safe. He put one in your laptop and airpods, too, and your watch. And maybe your car. Once he got the idea, he couldn’t stop himself. Trip or not, he needed to make sure you were safe, needed to know where you were at all times. And right now, you’re exactly where he wants you to be. 

“Oh, fuck.” Head lolling back, he runs a hand over your head, eyes closing in ecstasy. “Just like that, baby.” 

Pleasuring Dave with your mouth has always been easy. You could put zero effort into it, and you’re sure he’d still cum in minutes, if not seconds. And right now, he’s barely half a minute in. The way your tongue slides up the side of his cock, dragging his foreskin over the tip, makes him shiver. Involuntarily, his hips jerk upward toward your face, your beautiful face, the one he’s currently fucking. You let him pulsate his pelvis upward, thrusting into your mouth at a languid pace. 

“Baby,” His voice is low and rough, that gravely baritone dominating the atmosphere. “Princess, I’m gonna cum.”

Your happy and almost teasing hum prompts a redness to wash over his ears, but he doesn’t even care. It only turns him on that much more. With both hands, he shoves you down, listening to the wetness of your mouth, the sound of your throat sucking him down. Your mouth is slick and hot and just perfect for his cock, his fingers curling into your hair from the feeling of it. 

“F-Fuck, fuck.” David is gritting his teeth, feeling you gag while on your knees. He loves you like this, bent over his lap, letting him use your pretty face to get himself off. 

This is paradise, the thought floats effortlessly into his brain. It’s fucking paraise with her.

“I’m g-gonna,” Tilting his head down, he’s met with your pretty eyes, lips now stuttering. “Shit.”

With that, he unloads into your mouth, his jaw falling slack from the sensation of it. Thick ropes shoot into your mouth, coating your tongue in the warm substance. As always, it’s salty, gooey, and slides directly down your throat. The best part of this, for him, was feeling you swallow it down. 

“Baby,” You barely have time to take a breath before he’s leaning forward on the bed. Grabbing both of your biceps, he hauls you forward onto his lap, mouth attacking your own. “Get over here.” 

He’s grown to ignore the taste of cum in your mouth, he just focuses on your tongue. It might even turn him on a little that he’s tasing himself. And with his hand on your jaw, that’s exactly what he does, tongue forcing its way past your lips as he holds you in place, just the way he likes. And while he’s stealing your goddamn soul through your throat, his free hand slides up your shirt, pawing at your tits. 

“Hm…” You’re giggling, smiling against him once he gives you the chance to. 

You feel breathless, weightless, like your head is spinning and you can’t come down from the clouds. He’s touching you the exact same way he does back home, the only difference is where and when he can do it. You feel so free here, like you’re on some kind of secret honeymoon.

“This is insane.”

“Why?” Moving down to your neck, he groans against you, kisses heated and heavy. “You’re happy, I’m happy. Let’s just be happy…”

Laughing at his lovesick state, you sigh, tiling your head to the side for him. “We’ve been here less than an hour and you’re already gonna fuck me?”

He’s currently leaving hickies on your neck, and will definitely encourage you to do the same to him during this trip. He’s squeezing you through your bra and massaging you fervently in that broad hand, already growing stiff again. 

“Nah,” David grunts, nipping at your neck. Reaching down, he grabs a fistful of your ass, pulling you further in as he says, “I’m gonna fuck you on a yacht.”

Life just isn’t real, it’s not. There’s no way you’re with Molly’s fucking dad in Spain, on a yacht, in a bikini, feeding him strawberries. What is your fucking life?

“This is so cheesy.” You’re giggling, face burning red-hot from your current act.

He’d ushered you onto his lap while he laid out on the deck, grinning ear to ear with a handful of your backside in each palm. Lovingly, he rubs you, caresse your smooth curves as he coos to you.

“Just keep going, baby.” And then, he lands a light smack, your center tingling from the force of it. “Daddy’s hungry.” Rolling your eyes, you continue on, placing the end of another strawberry into his mouth. 

The boat rocks rhythmically atop the gentle waves, the sun beating down on your angelic body. You’re wearing a bikini Dave had apparently bought for you; a two-piece, bright red set that highlighted your physique quite nicely. But enough about you, you’re staring at him. It’s clear he’s been working out, the definition in his chest and biceps obvious. Even his stomach is firm, flexing a bit as he leans in to take another bite. But this time, you’re putting the rest in your mouth, transferring it to him with your own lips. Jesus, you really are on a secret honeymoon. 

“Mm,” He’s moaning against your mouth, already hard from the very second you climbed onto his lap. His head rolls with your impassioned kiss after he’d been given the fruit, feeling your slender fingers run down his neck.

“How long will you be gone tomorrow, daddy?” You’re pouting slightly; he told you before leaving for the boat that he has a meeting tomorrow afternoon. 

“Only a few hours, baby.” Dave whispers in response, hand lifting to the back of your head to bring you in.

Rolling your hips over his, he releases a pleasurable groan, body feeling hot and not just from the sun. But his passion quickly fuses into frustration when you suddenly decide to hop off of him.

“What are you doing?”

Shrugging, you walk over to your own chair with a shrug, laying the back of it down. Now that it’s folded down, you lay out over it, relaxing with a light sigh. “Tanning.” 

“What about me?” Now, he’s pouting.

Chuckling, you close your eyes, enjoying the heat. “I sat on your lap for almost an entire hour, baby. What about me?”

Frowning, he crosses his arms, shuffling back into his chair. “Fine.”

All you do is roll your eyes in response, folding your hands beneath your head. You’re laying on your stomach, backside entirely available to him. And you’d cover up a bit more if there were anyone else but the two of you on the boat. The only other person here is the captain, and he’s staying inside. 

Dave is just drooling over the way you look in that red bikini. Your back dips beautifully before curving upward, the plumpness of your cheeks drawing him in. All he wants to do is smack and bite them, spread them wide while he disappears inside. 

Peaking out of the corner of your eye, you grin. “Whatcha starin’ at?”

Nibbling on the corner of his lip, he quirks an eyebrow. “The half-naked college girl sitting next to me.” 

“Yeah?” You reply, giggling at his choice of words. It’s flattering, his continuously flirtatious nature. 

“Jesus, you’re so sexy, baby.” He reaches down to adjust himself, eyes not moving an inch away from you. But then you wiggle your ass a bit for him and he’s no longer adjusting but rubbing. “What’re you doing to me?” David breathes out in awe. 

“Stop it.”

“What?” And he’s already cracking that shit-eating grin.

“Enticing me.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I wanna enjoy my vacation.” You reply in a teasing tone, “Not just fuck my way through it.” And then beneath your breath, you mumble, “Although I don’t really mind that.”

“I heard that.”

“I wanted you to.” Sitting up with a huff, you stare at him. “Since you want attention so bad, why don’t you come swim with me?” You’re only teasing, and he knows it - he knows how much you love his affection. Besides, your playfulness shines through with that dazzling grin. 

“You’re going swimming?”

“Mhm,” Standing, you prance toward the ladder, hands leaning against the rails on either side. 

“Uh… I’m not much of a swimmer, babe.” 

“Really? Why not?”

“Just not my thing.” He shrugs, looking away.

And then your jaw drops. “David, can you not swim?”

“No, I can swim.” Dave responds with a huff, refusing to meet your eyeline.

“You can’t swim!” 

“Keep it down!”

“Babe,” Laughing, you walk back over to him. “It’s not like anyone can hear us.” Sitting on his lap again, you cup his cute, pouty face. “You really can’t swim?”

“I just… never learned.” 

“Well, would you mind if I went swimming?”

“No,” Shaking his head, he sighs.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, baby. That’s totally fine.”

This is a new side to him that you’ve never seen before. For some reason, it’s like you’re unwrapping another layer of vulnerability. 

“Maybe you’ll have fun watching me swim.” Leaning in, you kiss his cheek before standing.

Briefly, he wonders what you mean. But his questions are answered when you walk over to the ladder again, untying your top and letting it drop. Immediately, his eyes widen, watching the swells of your breasts bounce down, released from the confines of your thin straps. 

“Holy shit.” 

His reaction makes you buzz inside, your feet carrying you down the ladder as you hum. You’ve never done something like this before, but honestly, there isn’t much risk. There’s no one around for miles, no other boats or people, just the two of you and the water. 

The water is cold, a pleasant shiver against your warm skin. It’s a crystal-clear blue that you’ve never seen before, not back in the states. The scenery is gorgeous, genuinely entrancing. All you can hear is the sound of wildlife, mainly the surrounding birds that take up home on the cliffs surrounding the shores. Looking away from shore, you’re only able to see water, and nothing more. The ocean extends for miles, but strangely, it’s not an intimidating feeling. It’s comforting. 

Turning your head back toward the boat, you’re greeted by your gawking boyfriend. It makes you bust out into laughter, limbs rotating as you gracefully tread water. He’s hanging onto the railing, leaning against it while he watches you swim.

“I swear,” Shaking his head, he sighs. “You’re the fucking devil.”

Scoffing, your jaw drops. “Thanks.” 

“You know what I mean.” He’d roll his eyes, but he doesn’t want to miss a second of this. “Little fucking seductress.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You return, voice taunting him. Maybe you should show him how seductive you can be. 

Reaching down, your fingers find the strings of your bottoms, easily untying them beneath the delicate waves. And in one swipe, they’re off, too, leaving you completely bare before him. 

Beneath the wobbling outlines and sprinkles of bright light bouncing off the water’s surface, David can see your body. And you look heavenly, like a genuine goddess swimming through some kind of spring. The way your hair flows through the water is angelic, graceful, in the same way your limbs swipe through the sea. 

All Dave can currently think about is how lucky he is. Carol would have never done anything like this, not even when they were dating. And it’s not even about you being more adventurous than her, you’re just more fun than her. More fun and kind, sweeter, more attentive. You’re everything he’s needed in life. He’s thinking about that, and all the ways he could rail you tonight. 

On your end, you’re thinking the exact same things. No man has ever come close to treating you the way that Dave does. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. When you climb back onto the boat, he’s all over you, wrapping you in a towel and pulling you into his lap again, sucking on your tits while palming your ass. 

“Baby,” With your fingers tugging hard at his hair, he groans, teeth grazing your nipple. 

You were in the water all but ten minutes before he nearly jumped in with you. And you didn’t really feel like saving a life today. If only you knew David would be taking multiple tomorrow. 

“You’ll be okay, baby.” He’s kissing your forehead, trying to pry his arm away from you.

With all your might, you’re refusing to let him leave. And he’s not even leaving the suite yet, he just needs to start getting dressed.

“No.”

“Babe, I -”

“No.”

And then he chuckles out a sigh. “C’mon, baby. At least let me get ready for the day.” 

It’s just been too perfect, this entire time has been bliss. Your first night in the suite together was beyond peaceful. You’d kept the balcony doors open, the breeze sweeping through the drapes and into your room. It was warm, the air traveling through, surrounding the two of you in a comfortable blanket of atmosphere. And he was so lovey with you, cuddling you endlessly, kissing your head and refusing to let you go. He just couldn't stop holding you. David’s love language is definitely touch - he needs contact. Caressing your arm, your back, kissing your cheek, stroking your fingers, petting your hair, he always had to be touching you. He’s enamored with you. And with anyone else, you’d consider this kind of love to be smothering. With David, it’s anything but. 

Reluctantly, you let go of him, huffing out an exaggerated breath. Absentmindedly, you wonder if you’ll be able to have breakfast with him. After all, he told you it’d be a busy day.

“So,” He begins, his voice louder as he speaks from the bathroom. “I’m leaving around noon, so I’ve got a little less than an hour to make it there. Should be fine.” Shrugging on his work clothes, he does up his buttons before working on his tie. Then he’ll wash his face, brush his teeth, and do his hair. “I’ll be about a half hour away, but I’m sure you’ll be fine, baby. I’ll give you my card, okay? You can do anything you like, buy whatever you want. Have a… a ‘you’ day.”

He’s trying his damndest to convince you to stay out long enough for him to complete this task and shower before you get back. He needs to clean himself and the suite and any evidence, and he can’t do that if you’re anywhere near here.

“Okay,” You mumble, tracing the patterns on the bedspread. 

“Maybe if you find some cool places, we can visit them together tomorrow.” Walking back into the room, he offers you a sympathetic smile while tightening his tie. “I’m sorry about me leaving, sweetheart. But it won’t be for long. A few hours at most, okay?”

Sighing, you sit up, deciding to ready yourself for the day, too. “Okay.” 

And by the time you brush your teeth, he’s kissing your cheek and leaving. It feels domestically sweet, this departure, and you find yourself hoping for more of these moments in the future. But then sadness hits you again. You’ll have to find a way to busy yourself while he’s gone. 

Your phone offers a wide variety of shops and cafes, all cute and quirky and very much different than the ones in the states. You know enough Spanish to get around, thankfully, and after dressing yourself in a beige midi-dress, you head out. 

When you pictured this trip in your head, you imagined walking down these streets while holding David’s hand, not your handbag. But like he said, he can sight-see with you tomorrow. Maybe you can find some extra cute spaces to bring him to. Maybe you could even take a few pictures together, although they’re just more secrets to keep. 

“Coffee Small Orinx,” Staring up at the sign, you can already smell the beans brewing inside. And even though it’s not the morning, you decide to take a trip in to get a small coffee. 

The cafe is small, the interior decorated in an elegant yet cozy fashion. It feels strange, being out by yourself in a new city, a new country. It’s like you could be an entirely different person and no one would know. 

The only downside to getting a coffee here is the small spill you have when sitting down. “Shit.”

It drips down the rim and onto the table, a few splashes landing on your cream-colored dress. And against the lighter fabric, the coffee appears to be a dark orange-ish red, something fading to a burnt brown. A shade extremely similar to the one covering Dave right now. 

“You said this would be easy.”

“I fucking thought it would be.” 

But dragging two full-grown bodies out of a building while attempting to be discrete wasn’t as easy as Resnik apparently thought it would be. 

“You put us in some deep fucking shit.” David seethes. Barely two hours in and he’s already covered in blood. 

Quick fix my ass. 

“Look, Ari’s coming with the bags, alright?” 

“Bags big enough to fit a body?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Turning with a huff, Dave rubs his forehead, accidentally smearing blood across his temple. “Motherfucker.” 

He’ll definitely have to throw this entire outfit away. What was supposed to be a quick “meeting” was a total bust. These two lawyers could fight back, and hard. It didn’t knock him too far off his game, though. They were still the ones to end up dead. But now, he has their blood on his chest and neck, soaked into and soiling his clothes. He’s not even sure how he’s going to get back to the suite like this. 

Pulling out his phone, he chews on the corner of his lip, drawing blood from all the tension. He finds your location, discovering that you’ve returned to one of the nearby cafes. Dave figures if he’s quick, he can clean up before you get back. 

“Alright, look.” Closing his phone, he turns back around, shoving it into his front pocket. “I gotta go. Can you and Ari handle this?”

“Oh yeah, you have that girl with you, don’t you?” Resnik smirks, toying with him.

“Yeah, that girl.” Dave repeats, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be idiots. Take care of it.” 

Usually, he’d snap back at a remark like that, especially considering it was about you. But he’ll let that one go. Right now, he just needs to get back to your temporary home. 

And taking Ari’s jacket helps him do just that. Zipping it up over his bloody clothes, he stomps toward the door, unphased by the assault that just took place. 

He doesn’t risk taking a taxi, he just jogs through a few back alleys. While he told you he’d be further away, it was a lie, a small one, really. He wanted you to feel free to explore by yourself; he didn’t want you to feel like you needed to depend on him. When in reality, he was barely a five minute walk away. He would never let himself be so far from you, especially in a foreign country. 

Whipping out his phone again, he double checks that you’re still out of the suite, and he’s right. You must really like that cafe, because you’ve been there for the past forty-five minutes. He’ll look into that later. Right now, he just needs to clean himself off. 

Frantically, he busts through the front door of the suite, sweaty and out of breath. Quickly, he kicks off his shoes while unzipping Ari’s jacket, not wanting to track any evidence through the room. Chest heaving, he steps forward, turning the corner as he strides toward the bathroom. But just as quick as he does that, he nearly runs right into you. 

“Oh, Dave I… oh my god.” 

His eyes nearly pop out of his goddamn head. Why and how the fuck are you here?! Fuck, fuck. You weren’t supposed to know.

“Baby, what happened?!” Reaching out to touch him, he flinches away, not wanting some random man’s blood to get on your hands. “Baby, please, let me help. Are you, are you okay? What happened?! Oh my gosh!” Your voice is slowly but surely growing shrill and frantic, eyes searching his body with a wild desperation. You’re trying to find out where the blood is coming from. 

Gently, David grabs your wrists, pushing them away from him. “I’m, I’m fine.” But as cool, calm and collected as he usually is, he crumbles. He’s faltering, cracking open on the inside. This has never happened to him before, never. What the fuck is he supposed to do?

“Please, let me help, I - ”

“Just… stop!” He suddenly shouts, and watching you flinch at his change in tone is physically painful for him. 

Instantly, he knows what this reaction is from. It’s from Carol, from all those years of having to defend himself. And he can see this downfall coming as it’s currently unfolding, but he can’t stop it. 

“You don’t have to fix everything, okay?! Just leave me alone!”

“David…” You’re officially bewildered. Why is he reacting this way? Where did all this blood come from? What the hell is going on?! 

“Why are you even here? You’re supposed to be out! You were at a cafe twenty minutes ago!” At this point, he’s flailing his arms all over the place, making wild gestures while he yells. This isn’t the David you know. 

“What, how… how did you even know that?”

Jesus, he’s just letting all sorts of things slip today. “Are you just going to keep berating me with questions?!”

This entire interaction has you genuinely confused, shocked, and even scared. You’re worried for him, and yourself quite frankly. All you’re doing in this strange argument is running in circles, and what hurts more is that it’s your very first fight. 

Shaking the confusion out of your head, you hold up both hands. “David, okay,” Taking in a deep breath, you look up again, locking eyes with him. “What is going on?” 

“No, don’t turn this around on - ” He’s trying his best to avoid this. But his best isn’t nearly good enough.

“David.” You interrupt, your voice stern and loud and finally enough to shut him up. “Where did all that blood come from?”

[codename-mom]

Paternity test

Summary: Aaron has doubt about Jack being his now he is nine and still doesn't look like him. Dave tries to find a solution to reassure him, but it can be a double-edged sword.

Characters: BAU team (Callahan era) + Jack Hotchner

Contents: TW mention of Haley's cheating, alcohol, anxiety and I think that's all.

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

                Jack finished his exercise and looked up at his father. He hadn't moved an inch since he himself had sat down at the living room table to begin his homework. The giant was concentrating on his computer screen, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, his right hand regularly twitching, as it always did when he was deep in thought. The little boy got down from his chair and walked towards the sofa, his heart pounding. He wasn't afraid of his sire, but he still impressed him a little.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Jack,” he answered without looking at him.

“Can you check if it's okay?” he asked, placing his notebook on the armrest.

“I'm listening,” affirmed Aaron, his attention still fixed on the monitor.

“It's not math, it's grammar.”

The titan immediately ceased his activity and turned his attention back to his pocket roommate. Jack smiled at him, sketching a discreet chuckle. Then he picked up his notebook and read his lines in silence under the toddler's worried gaze. His father spoke much better than most of his teachers and other parents, and he had told him many times that knowing how to write properly would be an asset for his future life. In fact, the boy could feel the pressure on his shoulders as the director's brown irises leapt from one word to the next. It was hard to tell from his unexpressive face whether he was satisfied with his work or not.

“Reread the third sentence,” he said, finally giving him back his possession.

“What did I miss?” he interrogated him, disappointed that he hadn't got it right the first time.

“I don’t know, think.”

His ascendancy rarely made it easy for him to understand his mistakes. For many things, he let him analyze, study and dig for himself, before providing the explanation he needed, when necessary. For others, he readily agreed to teach him what he knew, just as he also took the time to listen to the results of his own discoveries. Jack loved these moments of exchange between them, and cherished them all the more as his father wasn't often at home. And when he was, he sometimes carried on with his duties as branch manager, forgetting about his offspring. Which he appreciated less and less.

“What are you doing?” he questionned as the colossus fell back into his trance.

“Research.”

“For work?”

Aaron didn't react on the spot, squinting his eyelids, before suddenly flinching as he met his gaze.

“… What? No, I... he stammered, his pupils shifting from him to the screen. I’m actually looking for a new place to live.”

“Why?”

He hadn't expected this.

“Because this one isn't very practical for either of us. Especially now that you're older.”

“Why?”

“You need a bigger bedroom, and I need an office where I can work without blocking your access to the living room.”

Instinctively, he looked towards the corridor at the end of which was his den. When he'd had to move in for good, he'd had a hard time adjusting to the old-fashioned decor, the noisy surroundings and the smallness of the place. Now he knew all its nooks and crannies by heart and felt at home here.

“Where are we going?” he worried instantly.

“Not that far, don’t be afraid. I'll make sure you stay at the same school so you can keep your friends, Aaron declared with a smile. And, in any case, we can't go too far away. I have to stay close to Quantico and I can't make your aunt travel miles for you.”

His father's large hand passed through his hair and lingered on his cheek. The FBI agent was smiling in a very exceptional way, but the whole physiognomy of his face, usually hard and cold, changed all at once. All the sweetness in his heart seemed to emerge from its hiding place and envelop him tenderly, soothing him instantly.

“Did you find something?”

“Not yet. But maybe you could help me, he asserted, looking at him. After all, you have a say in it, since you'll be living in it.”

Forgetting his English exercises altogether, he climbed onto the sofa beside him and pressed himself against his arm.

“What should I do?” he inquired, delighted to be able to support him.

“Look at the photos with me and tell me what you think. Would you?”

“Yeah.”

“So correct your third sentence and we'll take care of this.”

“Okay,” he yielded, picking up his notebook again.

Later, on a Monday, Dave invited himself into Hotch's office to let him know it was time for lunch. But as soon as he saw his drawn features and low expression, he knew something was wrong. He approached and shouted: 

“What’s going on? And watch what you say.”

His superior had a nasty habit of insisting that everything was fine, when it absolutely was not. A protective reflex that had already played many tricks on him. But the manager didn't fight. He sighed and settled back in his seat, pushing back the folder in his hand.

“…This weekend, Jack and I visited several homes. The other one's getting too small for the two of us, and I need a more suitable workspace than the living room,” he explained as Rossi sat down opposite him.

“Sounds like a good idea. But I have the impression that the hunt wasn't a good one.”

“In fact, one of them might do the trick, but... - he hesitated – that's not really the point. I didn't really expect to find the gem right away.”

Given the high demand and indecent real estate prices in the capital, it would indeed have been naive to think you'd hit the jackpot on your first try.

“So why the long face?”

“Because of the reaction of the real estate agents when they saw me arrive with Jack. You… you should have seen their faces.”

Surprisingly, Aaron wasn't looking at him, his irises turned to an invisible spot on his desk. He looked defeated.

“Well, what?” his mentor said impatiently, perplexed.

“None of them thought for a moment that that kid with me was my son, he revealed, staring at him at last. And even when Jack called me “Dad”, they still had their doubts.”

“Aren't you being a little dramatic?”

With his former disciple's tendency to see the glass as half-empty, the former retired doubted the accuracy of his statement.

“No. Many asked to see Jack's identity papers, even though they were of no use in completing the application files.”

He had to admit that this supported his hypothesis and he understood better why he wasn't particularly happy.  He dared to put things in perspective:

“At least they check.”

“Dave, these people were convinced I was a pedophile looking for a new hideout!” snapped his wounded interlocutor.

“Aaron…”

“And, at the same time, they have good reason to think so,” he continued, looking downcast.

“Why?”

The novelist had no idea why he would say such a thing. He was used to hearing him self-inflict a multitude of imaginary defects, but this one was beyond comprehension. Especially as there was nothing innocuous about it.

“Look at him, Hotch resumed, flipping the frame on his desk. Look at him and tell me where I am.”

A frozen Jack on glossy paper gave him a radiant smile, his straight, light hair waving in a passing breeze.

“He’s still a child, Aaron.”

“He's nine! the ex-prosecutor reminded him. It's high time he showed some of his father's physical traits. Except he doesn’t. Jack, it’s clearly Haley and... someone else.”

“Don’t say that.”

“So, tell me! Tell me what he took from me.”

 Uneasy, Rossi lowered his eyes to the toddler's portrait and carefully observed his eyes, nose, ears, chin... Apart from the color of his irises – which could also be his mother's – it was difficult to identify his sire's features. However, the elder felt that the kid was still too young to express all his genetic characteristics. Besides, he didn’t like what it implied.

“See. Even you can't answer that.”

“You realize you're implying that Haley went elsewhere.”

“But she went somewhere else, Dave, he asserted without preamble. One… one day when I was unusually at home, someone called. I picked up the phone and nobody answered. There was a silence and then they hang up. Right after that, someone called on Haley’s cell phone. I didn't make the connection with Jack this day, but now it's so obvious that he's not mine.”

The BAU co-founder realized that it had been eight years since his opposite had kept his wife's betrayal to himself, and he was touched that he hadn't been in the loop at the time. Why hadn't he told him about it? He'd been living with this memory for almost a decade, and it must have crushed his self-esteem when he realized that Haley hadn't had the respect for him that he'd had for her in the twenty-five years they'd been together. A memory that continued to undermine even now.

“Aaron, maybe it was someone who had the wrong number.”

“When you get the wrong number, do you just hang up?”

“… No,” he conceded, honest.

“You apologize and explain that you made a mistake. Haley didn't ask for a divorce because I was never around, but because I was too much and had discovered the truth.”

Dave easily perceived the anger rolling through his veins. Even after so much time, even after everything that had happened, he was still furious. The question was, against whom? The most likely answer was: his partner at the time. But Hotch was a complex person who had very little regard for himself, and his eldest wouldn't have been surprised if he resented him too.

“Wait, that doesn't mean that Jack isn't yours. It's playing with fire to have a child with someone other than your husband.”

“Except when the husband doesn't want children.”

Taken aback by this outburst, he widened his eyelids, questioning the giant with his eyes.

“She wanted that kid so badly; she could have done just that. And, once pregnant, she did what it took to convince me to take the plunge.”

He glimpsed a side of Aaron's private life he'd never known about before. The couple he had formed with Haley at that moment had seemed so harmonious that he hadn't questioned further why they had remained childless for so long.

“For… for years, she had put her desire for motherhood on the back burner, but suddenly it became urgent. She put me on the spot for it, he added, his eyes shining. And, as luck would have it, it worked the first time. Normally, it takes several attempts to make it work, even for couples who have frequent relations. But not us. I'm sure of it now, she was already pregnant and I find myself raising someone else's kid.”

“Hold on, Aaron. Breathe. All this is just speculation.”

He ignored all the statistics that ran through his brain about the number of tries one had to go through to get it right – even more so when the mother-to-be was in her forties – just as he refrained from bouncing on the fact that Haley had obviously taken advantage of her husband's unconditional love for her to finally accede to her request. Even if the evidence seemed to be mounting, he couldn't overlook the fact that he didn't hold all the cards and that, even if she had gone elsewhere, there was no proof that she had played him to such an extent.

“What are you going to do anyway? Abandon Jack?”

“No, he retorted immediately. I… I can’t do that. He… he’s not to blame. And… if I couldn't be his biological father, I could always be his... his legal guardian.”

                Dave was struck by the sadness that emanated from these last words. Even if he hadn't actually experienced it, becoming a father was an incredible opportunity, a stage of life like no other. All of a sudden, you found yourself propelled into a completely different dimension, where care freeness disappeared, replaced by a constant attention to detail. One was brutally invested with a long-term mission, which consisted in bringing an innocent and pure being to become strong and skilful enough to survive the ferocity of life; all without turning them into a bloodthirsty and cruel monster. Becoming a father meant making millions of sacrifices and compromises every day for the sake of a single individual; it meant facing up to fears and repulsions, ignoring fatigue, silencing anxieties, mastering annoyance, monitoring one's own behavior, weighing one's words and being able to give it all up when necessary. All this without even knowing if the child will return the favor one day.

                Being a legal guardian was a soulless legal term for the fact that you were just a name on an administrative document.

“But, you know there's a way to check if there's a genetic link between the two of you.”

“I won't do a test,” rebelled Aaron, adamant.

“Why not?”

“No. Imagine that... that he really wasn't mine. What should I do? Tell him nothing, at the risk that he might discover the truth later? Telling him the truth and destroying his mother's image and the pretend balance we've both managed to achieve? I… - he sighed. At least, at the moment, I'm still left with the doubt that he's mine.”

                Rossi left the office and joined the team gathered in the corridor, ready to go down for lunch. Their brows furrowed as soon as they noticed their superior's absence.

“Isn't he coming with us?” worried Penelope.

“No. He’s… he’s cogitating.”

“What? What's that supposed to mean?” grumbled Derek, unsettled.

“Cogitate comes from the Latin cogitare, which means... began Spencer, before all eyes turned to him. That wasn't what you meant, was it?”

Morgan shook his head jaded, but said nothing.

“Aaron thinks Jack isn't his.”

“Again?” exclaimed JJ.

Everyone stared at her, surprised.

“I'm sorry, but this idea has been on his mind for some time now, she justified herself, a little embarrassed. Everyone tells him that Jack looks like his mother and never like him. After a while, I can see why the idea would catch on.”

“When they're born, babies resemble their sire so that the latter can attach more easily to the newborn and thus provide it with all the protection it needs,” declared Reid, perhaps a little too cheerfully.

“Who did Jack look like when he was born?” bounced Kate, who didn't even know what the child looked like now.

The two blondes glanced at each other awkwardly and replied in unison:

“… Haley.”

“Wait, interjected Derek, suddenly enthusiastic, Jack has brown eyes and so does Hotch.”

“Around eighty percent of the world's population has brown eyes.”

“Reid, I'm trying to make a case for Hotch, he growled, letting his shoulders fall back. Don’t help me there.”

Dave refrained from hammering the point home by reminding the ex-policeman that the boy's mother also had brown eyes. 

“Sorry, but the only way to be sure Hotch and Jack are related is to have them take a DNA test,” the multi-graduate defended himself.

“He doesn’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Because without it, he still has the illusion of being his father.”

His reply cast a chill over the assembly. The few snatches of a smile that remained disappeared in a flash, and discomfort seized everyone.

“It's so sad,” commented Garcia, tears welling up in her eyes.

“At the same time, I've always thought Jack had a false air of Sean about him,” said the ex-officer liaison, in a very small voice.

“Seriously?” choked Rossi, blown away by this thought.

“It's true that it could explain the hair color,” supported the technician, who didn't dare meet his gaze.

“Who’s Sean?”

Attention turned to the newcomer to the team, whose embarrassment had given way to confusion.

“He's Hotch's younger brother, Spencer explained. They don’t look alike at all.”

Which was saying a lot. As tall as each other, the resemblance ended there. Aaron was as dark-haired as Sean was blond, and his dark irises were set against a much more attractive blue-gray. And then there were their differences in character: the former's straightforwardness didn't go at all well with the latter's carefree attitude. While both had criminal records, the elder had settled down before he came of age, while the younger was multiplying offences now that he was an adult.

“Hotch took from his mother and Sean from his father,” continued JJ, helping her colleague understand the situation.

“How likely is it that Hotch passed on his own father's physical characteristics to Jack?” suggested Kate, very seriously.

“That’s a good question. If we assume that his mother's alleles are all dominant...”

“We're going to do a DNA test,” proclaimed Rossi, cutting Reid off who was, in his opinion, putting a little too much effort into this sordid calculation given the context.

“What?” croaked the group, bewildered.

He'd expected this reaction, but the Las Vegas native was right: it was the only way to get to the bottom of the story.

“At least we'll know for sure.”

“How do you plan to do it? Derek questioned, eyebrows furrowed. Recovering Hotch's DNA shouldn't be a problem; all you have to do is steal his mug...”

“The DNA of all FBI agents is recorded in the national database so that it can be discarded when analyzing crime scenes.”

“Thank you, Reid.”

“You're welcome,” replied the latter, as cheerful as his colleague was weary.

Morgan sighed and resumed:

“How do you plan to get Jack's DNA?”

“JJ, I thought I'd put you to work.”

“Me? Gasped the interested party, unsettled. But… how?”

“You could organize a brunch with Will where you invite them both. Henry and Jack will be happy to play together, and Aaron won't suspect a thing.”

He'd come up with this plan in the very short time between their conversations, but it seemed feasible. And, by leaning on the young woman, he thought he wouldn't arouse the giant's natural distrust, which, after their conversation, might put distance between the two of them. If only to avoid being told to do the test over and over again.

“Are we talking about the results? Intervened Penelope. What are we going to do once we get them? We're not going to tell him that Jack isn't his, even if it were true.”

“Of course not. The whole plan relies on him not knowing about the test. In fact, if it's not in his favor, we won't tell him anything – and he'll keep hoping he's his real father – and if it is in his favor, we'll be able to prove to him that Jack is really his, he unrolled before adding. And he'll be too relieved to give us the hell for doing the test behind his back.”

The profilers and the analyst watched him as if they'd just suggested bungee jumping off the Empire State Building on a windy day. They, who were so quick to pounce on the slightest crumb concerning their superior's intimate life, retreated with great strides when he offered them a scoop on a silver platter.

“Not all at once.”

They exchanged questioning glances, then JJ spoke again:

“Okay. I’m in.”

“Thanks for your support.”

As agreed, JJ invited the Hotchners, father and son, to lunch at her home one weekend, and she met Dave in his office to entrust him with the few hairs she'd been able to remove from Jack's jacket. That same evening, the agency's eldest went to the analysis laboratory, where he knew one of the employees. The woman in question was a little younger than he, and they had seen each other on occasion outside of the professional context. Intelligent and endowed with a certain charm, she didn't shy away from propriety. In private, at least; at work, it was a different story, and he was going to have to convince her to help him despite the unofficial nature of his request.

“Hi, Dave, she said with a smile as she saw him enter her den. What brings you to this part of the world?”

“I’ve got a favor to ask.”

“I thought so too,” she ironized, resting the notepad in her hand on the bench behind her.

“I'll need to look for a DNA match.”

“Which file is it for?” she inquired, activating the nearby monitor.

She settled down on the stool, ready to launch a computer search so that she could attach the results to the ongoing investigation. Rossi couldn't lie on this point, but he was equally put off by the idea of unpacking Aaron's intimate life to this scientist who was a stranger to the titan.

“It’s… confidential.”

“Are you serious right now?” she retorted immediately, swiveling her seat in his direction. 

She knew perfectly well what this formulation meant. 

“I can’t tell you more.”

“Then, I won’t do anything. These machines are worth a fortune, and we don't run them for nothing.”

He then realized that there must have been some abuse lately, and that the laboratory workers were being watched. He didn't know how it all worked in practice but wasn't surprised to hear her put the financial argument of the procedure on the table. However, he didn't trust those online sites that offered DNA tests for a fee; just as he couldn't see himself contacting an analyst in whom he didn't have absolute confidence. The hostess stared at him, waiting for further explanation.

“Okay, okay, he yielded, raising his hands in front of him. I have a friend who's convinced his kid isn't his. I'd like to prove him wrong for once.”

She frowned.

“You know this kind of bet is a double-edged sword?”

“If he's right, he won't know.”

“But you’ll know.”

“I'll deal with it, he swept with his most casual air. How soon can you get me the results?”

He handed her the sample taken by the former liaison officer. She took it and sighed, before giving him a discreet smile.

“I’ll give you a call when it’s done.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait until you get the results before thanking me.”

A week passed, during which a certain tension gripped him from morning to night, and he was relieved to see a message from the coroner appear on his phone screen. He didn't yet know what she had to tell him, but the simple fact that his mission was progressing soothed him. He left Quantico earlier that day to see her. She was in the same place as last time and handed him an unmarked envelope.

“So?” he inquired, curious all the same.

“I'll let you find out. All I can tell you is that the father has a record.”

Which, in itself, did not exclude Aaron. Indeed, shortly after he and Gideon had decided to give the young prosecutor a chance to join the fledgling BAU, the HRD's vetting department had alerted them to the fact that he had a juvenile criminal record. He and his then accomplice had asked to take a look at it, only to discover that the obviously angry pre-adolescent had abruptly mellowed out three years before coming of age, never to leave the beaten track again. And apart from a few outrages against law enforcement officers, he had committed no crime that would prevent them from hiring him. But that didn't mean he was Jack's father, either; only that Haley had messed around with someone who hadn't been above the law at some point in her life.

“… Okay. Thanks.”

He started to walk away when the scientist called out to him:

“Hey, Dave! It’s not for free.”

“What do you want?” he replied, unsurprised by her remark.

“Look at the results first, then we'll discuss about it.”

Rossi's usual plan was to go home, open the envelope and pour himself a glass of twelve-year-old whisky to celebrate the fact that he'd been right, and could therefore reassure his superior and friend. But when he found himself sitting on his sofa, with that white rectangle in his hands, he couldn't go any further. What if it wasn't him? And what if Aaron's ex-wife really had slept with someone else to have the child she so dreamed of before she played her then-husband? Or, to put it more simply – and more commonly – had she had an ongoing extramarital relationship, forgotten to take her pill, or had unprotected sex and got pregnant afterwards? She would have backed her husband into a corner to cover her tracks. Unless she slept with both of them on the same day or within a very short period of time and didn't know which one was the father. There were so many plausible hypotheses that he didn't know which to believe.

He thought he could handle knowing the truth without blinking. But now that he was within a hair's breadth of knowing it all, he realized the implications and no longer felt as serene as he had at the start of his quest. Could he still look Hotch in the eye, smile at him, and joke with him and, above all, watch him interact with Jack knowing, in fact, that they were not related at all? How long could he keep this information secret? What would the agency director's reaction be when he heard that he was right and, what's more, that his mentor had hatched a whole plan behind his back and then kept quiet about it?

The next morning, he returned to the FBI training center with the envelope still sealed in his hands. The whole team was eagerly awaiting him, huddled together in the bullpen area while their boss held yet another management meeting.

“You've got them, haven't you?” Spencer hooked him up, impatient.

“It seems so.”

“So?” bounced JJ.

He didn't answer, staring at the mail as if it were about to start talking.

“You didn't dare open the envelope, did you?” teased Derek, with a smirk.

“I'd like to see you in my shoes, kid.”

“If that’s all it takes.”

Morgan took the document from his hands, gestured to open it, and then froze. Dave took the opportunity to say:

“Think about the fact that you'll have to work alongside him knowing the truth. And perhaps this truth will have the power to destroy what little self-esteem and self-confidence he still has.”

The ex-policeman rolled his eyes and sighed before handing over his property. The novelist could have savored this victory if it hadn't brought them back to square one.

“What do we do? Should we abandon the project?” suggested the Chicago native.

“I'd love to know the results, honestly, Reid admitted, but I don't want to hurt Hotch.”

“And, at the same time, continued JJ, if this test proves that he's Jack's father, it'll take a burden off his mind.”

“So, we come back to my question: what do we do?”

Everyone casted questioning glances at each other. They wanted to help their colleague feel better, but none of them wanted to be the bearer of bad news, let alone spend the rest of their lives with the weight of the truth on their shoulders.

“In any case, there's no way I'm opening this envelope,” said Penelope, moving away from the group.

“I'll do it, decreed Dave, cheerlessly. It's my idea, and it's up to me to accept the consequences to the end.”

“But if the results are negative, does that mean you'll be willing to take on the job of reassuring him again on the matter, when you'll actually know it's wrong?” pointed out Kate, dubiously. 

“Ouch!” commented Spencer, his irises leaping from his female coworker to his elder.

He hadn't thought of that possibility either, but threw out: 

“Somebody's got to open the damn envelope.”

“Is there a problem?”

The team gasped as they heard the cavernous voice behind them. They turned as one to see their leader standing beside them. They'd been so absorbed in their discussion that they'd stopped paying attention to their surroundings. Hotch looked at them blankly for a moment, then looked at the envelope in turn.

“What is it?”

“What? Ah! Stammered Rossi, unease. Uh… these are the results of a medical test I took.”

“A test? For what?” worried the giant, his eyebrows more furrowed than usual.

“No big deal. It's more of a routine check-up.”

He had tried to adopt his most detached attitude, but the expression on his interlocutor's face proved that he had not achieved his objective.

“Dave, would you tell me if something serious was happening to you?”

“Of course, Aaron. You’d be the first to know.”

The interested party seemed even more concerned, but the ringing of a distant telephone made him look up at his desk.

“I have to go. Don’t forget to keep me in touch.”

“Everything is fine, don’t worry.”

The BAU co-founder patted Hotch on the shoulder as he walked away from them, and they watched him climb the ramp to the walkway and disappear into his office. A general sigh passed through the federal agents' rib cages.

“Are your legs shaking too?” Garcia asked, leaning on the nearest piece of furniture. 

“If it was just the legs...” confirmed the other blonde on the team.

“Well done, Rossi,” congratulates sincerely Derek, who didn't seem to mind any more than his comrades.

“Fortunately, he always worries more about others than himself.”

It would have been a lie to say that he'd thought about it when he came up with this justification, but fact was that the giant's altruism and empathy had made things much easier for him.

“We might have to open that envelope now,” Callahan snapped, curious in spite of everything.

“Wish me good luck.”

Dave followed in Hotch's footsteps, but continued on his way to his own workspace, next to that of the colossus in the suit. He sat back in his chair and placed the envelope on his desk pad. He was afraid. Afraid to open the envelope and learn the truth. Afraid of condemning himself to silence for an indeterminate time. Afraid of having to lie for the rest of his life about the true nature of the bond between his friend and the boy he hoped would be his son. Afraid to face Aaron's scrutinizing gaze every time his insecurities resurfaced.

                He knew that the man behind the wall behind his back hadn't chased fatherhood – his difficult childhood hadn't encouraged him to extend the lineage – but that he adored Jack, nonetheless. More than that, the former pensioner was convinced that if the little boy hadn't existed, Aaron probably wouldn't have found the strength to overcome all the hardships he'd been forced to endure. Without the toddler, he'd never have recovered from the death of the only woman he'd ever loved. He hung in there because there was a four-year-old who needed him. Then, little by little, he had gained confidence in his new role as a single father and, year after year, he had even managed to overcome his grief to the point of getting back together as a couple.

                To reveal to him that Jack was not of his blood was to set him back almost a decade and annihilate all the efforts he'd made up to that point. It was tarnishing – ruining – the last nine years of his life, just as Haley had soiled their twenty-five years together by cheating on him and then filing for divorce. Dave hadn't been there for the birth of their child, but he'd been there for everything else, and he wasn't at all happy to destroy it. On the contrary, he really wanted to help his neighbor relieve his conscience of at least one of his anxieties. And for that, he had no choice but to throw himself into the lion's den.

He took a deep breath and picked up the envelope. So as not to back down again, he didn't wait to open it and extract the tri-fold sheet it contained. The paper was thick enough that nothing could be read from the outside. With his heart pounding against his ribs, he slowly unfolded the letter: first flap first, with the date, title, and laboratory logo; then the next two, clearly displaying the results. A long exhale escaped his lips.  

A few moments later, the profilers saw their colleague cross the few meters separating his door from that of the manager. He had a serious look on his face. He knocked to signal his presence to Hotch, still on the line, who beckoned him in anyway.

“Listen, I understand your concerns, but my team is used to this kind of situation and... Yes, even agent Callahan… he affirmed, rolling his eyes. I don't think this information will be of any use to you... Very well, we'll discuss it in person... Of course… And I'll get back to you as soon as possible... Have a good day too.”

He hung up immediately afterwards and turned his gaze on Rossi, who was standing in front of him.

“Something tells me you're not going to answer them right away,” Dave said with a smirk.

“I have no idea why you would think that.”

“Intuition.”

They smiled in unison, then his superior became serious again.

“What can I do for you?”

“Read this.”

He placed the envelope on his desk.

“These are your medical results, he remarked, confused. It’s private.”

“You wanted to know if I was okay. You'll find the answer in here.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Aaron, open this letter, please.”

Disconcerted by his insistence, the giant obeyed, not without some hesitation. His perplexity gave way to annoyance, however, when he read the document's subject.

“You did a DNA test?” he scolded, glaring at him.

“Keep reading.”

Hotch gulped. He was hesitating, logically. He hadn't asked to know because he didn't want to know. He didn't want to lose the person he loved most in the world. He didn't want to be reduced to a wallet on legs for Jack. Dave understood his reluctance, so he made sure to appear as relaxed as possible. Finally, the branch manager applied himself and unfolded the entire sheet. The features of his face suddenly distorted. Anger vanished and a daze overtook him. Then tears rolled silently down his cheeks.

“I’ll leave you to it. You know where to find me.”

Rossi left the office, leaving his tenant in shock, and rejoined the group that had gathered at the bottom of the ramp. Penelope had emerged from her lair and was watching him walk towards them, her eyes shining.

“So?” she asked, in chorus with JJ.

“It’s a boy.”

Relief and joy took hold of the whole assembly, which found itself smiling and colorful once again.

“Are we sure?” wished to clarify Derek.

“Yes, the match is there.”

“I've got to go and give him a hug!” stomped Garcia, tears of happiness escaping from behind her glasses.

“Penelope, give him time. He's got a few years' worth of doubts to sweep under the rug right now.”

“I'm so happy for him,” declared JJ, moved.

“Me too,” toped up Spencer, grinning from ear to ear.

“I don't know him as well as you do, but I must admit I'm relieved,” revealed Kate, who shared her peers' elation.

“Here he is!”

At the analyst's exclamation, all eyes turned to the manager's office from which Hotch had actually emerged. Letter in hand, he walked slowly towards them, a neutral expression on his face. The general jubilation subsided into discreet smiles. Their superior froze in front of them, and the tension spread to Dave and his neighbors. By having this test done without his knowledge, he had trampled on his privacy, something the giant abhorred. Whenever his men had started poking around in this area, he had always reacted very badly. It was probably the only thing that made him bang his fist on the table about them. Except that this time was different from all the others. He spread his arms and embraced his mentor, saying:

“Thank you.”

“Mazel tov,” exclamed the latter, responding to his embrace with a few friendly pats on the back.

“I'll never know how to thank you.”

“Stop doubting yourself.”

The titan smiled and detached himself from him, but not without keeping a hand on his shoulder. Rossi was delighted to see him so happy. He had succeeded in his gamble. His colleagues approached in turn, and Morgan extended his hand in the direction of the man he'd had to replace at short notice years earlier.

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” answered Aaron, squeezing his palm.

JJ was the next to congratulate him, but she allowed herself to give him a hug. Garcia then threw herself at him, her red cheeks bathed in tears. 

“I am so, so, so happy for you! You have no idea.”

“Thank you, Penelope.”

Spencer dared an awkward embrace, offset by the radiant, confident smile that lit up his youthful features. Callahan waited for Hotch to face her before speaking:

“If all your affairs are resolved like this, I'll sign on for the next ten years.”

“I'll make a note of it, replied the ex-prosecutor, amused, before he regained his seriousness by enveloping them with his gaze. I… I should be mad at you for going behind my back, but...”

The end of his sentence disappeared into limbo, his smile revealing the depth of his thought. Dave guessed that he was a little embarrassed to be the center of attention, but that he wanted to share this moment of joy with them.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” said Reid, proudly.  

They all burst out laughing, dispelling the pressure that had been building up.

“How did you get Jack’s DNA, by the way?... Oh, the brunch,” he realized all by himself.

“Sorry,” apologized the culprit.

“Well done.”

JJ immediately blushed, touched by the compliment.

“Well. Clearly, I owe someone a meal now,” he stated as the team filed out of the open plan to retrieve their respective places, and he and Aaron returned to their desks.

“To who?”

“To the coroner who performed the test.”

“If that's all there is to it, just make an expense claim. I'll validate it with my eyes closed,” assured the colossus, ecstatic.

“It’ll be fine, he answered, laughing. Thanks.”

He squeezed the shoulder of his friend and, by now, official family man, before resuming his day's work. Curiously, despite the harsh news they received by email that day, the same calm smile remained on the lips of the BAU agents.

___

I'm still alive! Actually, I put my other works on hiatus just to write this for Father's day (which was last sunday in France), and I'm now back working on three CM AU at the same time. Yes, three. I'm crazy. XD

Well, I hope you've enjoyed your journey. ^^

PS: Yes, I know "Mazel tov" doesn't mean "congratulations" and Aaron knows it too, but Dave is always so cheerful when he's using it that he never told him that he's wrong. ^^;

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions

Next Chapter

The day is here! The one I hope some of you have been waiting for, the first chapter of my first Dave York fic. I hope you love it as much as I love writing it!

Series Summary: Defense intelligence conferences are always the same informative but also always boring. You didn't expect anything different for this one, but an unexpected meeting with a man named Dave York, changes the trajectory of your conference experience and maybe even more.

Rating/Warnings: This chapter is MA, no smut yet, build up and tension are the name of the game

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: Also used this song for a little bit of inspiration -

Chapter 1: When He Sees Me

“If you have any more questions or comments, I’ve got my official contact information here,” you spoke clearly as you pointed to the screen behind you, “thank you for your time.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised with the number of attendees at your breakout session. The use of AI in defense intelligence continued to be the hot topic in the intelligence community especially for this year’s conference. You hadn’t spent years of nearly sleepless nights and exhausting mornings with development and research to not be considered one of the foremost experts on the subject.

Professionalism and a line of people eager to speak with you prevented you from leaving when you wanted. You scanned the room full of individuals in stuffy business suits and some in even stuffier medal-decorated uniforms. If you didn’t hold your breath, you’d pass out from the stench of testosterone-fueled arrogance.

“So when I think about AI, the pattern analysis and the information clusters---I kind of get how it makes our jobs easier, in theory,” you heard a voice laden with contemplation but also with condescension say.

You were crouched on the ground packing up your laptop, power cord, and briefcase eager to leave. You stretched your fingers and then closed them into tight fists before opening them again. Tension filled your shoulders, chest, and back as you zipped your briefcase. You took a deep, cooling breath through your nose, holding it in and letting it expand in your lungs until swirling notes of calm slowly began to circulate within you.

“But?” You looked up, slowly releasing the calming air from your lips. When you stood up, you were taken aback by the sight of a roguishly handsome man.

He stood before you, both hands on his hips in a posture that aimed to imbue you with intimidation at his authority. You held his brown-eyed stare with your own, always looking for an excuse to use your well-honed observation skills. He wore a well-fitting, but simultaneously well-used navy blue suit, worn just enough that you assumed he reserved it especially for conferences. You concluded that he be must upper-level management with a defense contractor, but more likely a high-level manager at an intelligence agency.

“I think AI’s shortcoming is its innate lack of understanding of human behavior,” he stated with a shrug. “A lack of human perception means you can’t analyze and decipher intent and it can’t interpret how we make decisions based on feeling, based on interpersonal communication.”

“You assume that this is a problem that’s not being taken into consideration,” the urge to defend your work was palpating in your veins. “More funding and support is needed for human analysts; how else do you think innovation would move forward?”

He took his right hand and rubbed the side of his face, while smoothing the side of his brown hair. His expression was full of collected calm paired with a confidence that you somehow suspected was well-earned. That pissed you off the most. He clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and lips curled up into a smirk, revealing a dimple on his right cheek on his clean-shaven face.

“Hmm,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on you like it was a challenge he had to win, “your misplaced hostility speaks volumes.”

A tightness grew in your shoulders and rose to your neck from the nerve of his words. You clenched your jaw, your tongue pressing tightly at the roof of your mouth behind your teeth.

“But not quite as loud as your misogyny,” the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Enjoy the rest of the conference.”

You glided away, disallowing him the chance to introduce or explain himself. You shook hands with attendees while giving away dazzling smiles as you made your escape. It was easy to weave through the crowd, as most people found ways to linger and speak to good friends and long-lost acquaintances. That was just how international conferences worked.

Fortune was in your favor as you found solace in an elevator. You backed yourself into one of the corners, continuing to people watch as more conference-attendees entered. You noted a man in his mid-to-late 50s, his graying blonde hair cut close to his head and his blue uniform filled with rows of medals and insignias. He was followed by a couple, who appeared to be trying their hardest to hide their intimacy with each other through closed-off, professional postures. But you knew better. The way they looked at each other screamed at you that they used this annual conference to conduct their long-standing affair.

A groan nearly escaped you, when you saw the same man who approached you after your presentation. His eyes were alight with intense determination and his brows knitted towards each other, creasing the space just above his nose. A tight intensity settled over your chest and neck as you backed yourself further into your corner of the elevator. The unremitting concentration that inhabited his eyes gave you the distinct feeling of being hunted. You tried as fast as you could to avert your eyes away from him. The dimple that revealed itself in the errant grin he gave you when his eyes met yours told you that you failed. 

You made every attempt to affect disinterest, placing hyper focus on your phone, examining the cuticles of every single one of your nails, even staring at the floor. You barely paid attention as the people you shared the elevator with exit at their floor. Not even the surreptitious couple, who you assumed left the elevator at the same time. Inevitably, the handsome and arrogant stranger was the only one who remained.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” you heard him say.

“Hm?” You could feel your brow beginning to furrow as your attitude fought against your level-headedness to gain control. “I’m sorry?”

“You called me a misogynist,” Dave reminded you with a smirk, speaking of it as a badge he wore with honor.

“Oh yes, that’s right,” you sighed the sarcasm dripping from every word, “and I’m hostile.”

“No,” the voice he spoke with was calculating and unmoving, “I said you had hostility, and you took it upon yourself to assume that I was a misogynist.”

“Semantics,” you said your voice was quick like it was jumping from a trap.

“I’m not the kind of man stupid enough to belittle someone’s life’s work,” he raised his hands up as if he was conceding to you, “especially when she’s clearly brilliant.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he spoke those words, trying to decipher if there was some kind of hidden meaning or intent behind them. There was an air about him that commanded your attention. Perhaps it was the dichotomy that he seemed to present the further you observed him. He was competent yet personable, casual yet professional, and guarded but disarming. You worked through these thoughts in your mind as the whirring of the elevator took over as it continued upward.

“Well, at least you’re smart enough to know when you’ve made a mistake,” you said with a nod of your head.

“Are you going to the networking social?”

You weren’t certain if he was simply curious or was inviting you.

“Oh god no,” you were quick to answer with a loud groan, almost too loud, “that’s just not my thing.”

The handsome stranger shrugged, “They’re usually filled with self-righteous assholes, anyway.”

The accuracy and the irony of his statement bubbled up laughter from your belly. A feeling made of confusion, guilt, and absurdity came over you as you felt yourself beginning to let your guard down. He wasn’t supposed to apologize. He wasn’t supposed to be interesting or intriguing. He should have just been a one-dimensional, arrogant asshole.

“Well,” you spoke, an unexpected grin forming on your lips, “looks like we might actually be on the same page this time.”

He held his hand out and offered you a smile full of purpose. “I’m Dave, Dave York, D.I.A.”

The immediacy with which you gave him your name surprised you. As he shook your hand you noted a slight awkwardness to his grip, though you could tell he was making every effort to give you a strong handshake. The skin on the inside of his palm and his fingertips were slightly weathered with scar tissue. You noticed the cold feeling of metal on his left-hand ring finger and took note of the wedding ring, trying not to frown. A corner of your brain wondered about the stories that could be found in the lines of those weathered hands.

“Hmm, D.I.A.,” you murmur to yourself. “Was following me to the elevator just your creepy way of getting me to talk shop with you?”

“You think I’d be that obvious?” His voice lowered an octave when he turned to face you and a chill tingled all over you.

“Well I don’t know you,” you replied with a shrug, “but I’d say if you were, you’d be pretty shitty at your job.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you don’t you, firefly,” he said, his brow lowering as he took one step toward you.

His hands tightened on his hips as he stepped toward you and he squared his shoulders behind him. Your brain took stock of each movement, at each attempt to make himself seem bigger and you seem smaller. A wicked little laugh brewed inside your abdomen as you accepted his challenge, moving one inch forward. You were close enough to breathe in his scent and your gaze moved from his neck, up to his lips and then to his eyes. 

“When you’re a woman in the IC, you’ve got to find ways to adapt; it’s nothing personal.”

An unremorseful apology. 

The elevator bell rang out with a loud ding.

“This is my stop,” holding your gaze to him, neither of you moved

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime this week.”  

“Maybe,” you agreed with the tilt of your head, that felt almost too flirty to you. “Enjoy the rest of your conference.

“You too,” he affirmed as he pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly becoming engrossed by a text message that you suspected was from his spouse.

Slight disappointment set in that you could not continue the conversation, but your exhaustion was quickly winning out. Your eyelids and muscles felt heavy as they screamed louder for rest. You ambled to your room and as you opened the door you immediately kicked off your high heels and shook your arms out of your blazer, tossing it on the bed. You walked back to the bathroom and reached into the shower, turning the dial towards hot. Mindlessly, you began unbuttoning your light coral blouse when you heard a knock at your room door. An audible sigh of frustration left you as you quickly turned the water off.

Who could possibly have any reason to bother me right now, you thought to yourself, using the peephole to look outside.

“Hey, it’s me,” you saw and heard your coworker from the other side of the door, “Brad.”

You took a deep breath, making your annoyance before opening the door.

“Hi, Brad,” you greeted tentatively, “everything OK?” 

“Oh yeah, everything is fine,” he replied with a grin that was too perfectly and polished. “Heard you did a good job on your presentation.”

“Heard?” You said with a raised brow.

“That’s the word from all the guys I’ve run into who attended,” he explained leaning against your doorway. “They were really impressed with you.”

A wave of exhaustion immediately took over your shoulders and you stepped back. You felt inconvenienced and nearly disgusted as you observed Brad’s eyes meet yours but travel down the length of your body. Every word that left him wrapped you in disgust.  The perfection that he displayed reeked of privilege. He was the typical aging former college frat boy and it did nothing for you. The entitlement he wore on his shoulders might as well have been a flashing, neon sign shouting out that he could get away with anything. 

“That’s cool,” you say quickly, inching closer and closer to shutting the door. “Well, I’m going to finish up some reports and turn in; I am beat.”

“What?” he stared back at you in confusion. “It’s not even 6 yet, and happy hour’s just started.”

“And you are much better at rubbing shoulders with the bigwigs, B,” you compliment hoping it would make him leave faster. “Work that magic of yours. Happy-hour it and let me know how it goes?”

You shut the door quickly hoping that you left him dumbfounded.

With him gone you were able to return to all the things you planned to bring you relaxation. You returned to the shower, the water warming quickly. The warmth of the water encompassed you, easing the tension of your neck, shoulders, and back muscles. You stepped out, wrapping yourself in a towel. The next hours were perfectly mundane. You wrapped yourself in a hotel robe, had a light dinner, read for fun, and basked in your nightly skincare routine. Before you knew it you had fallen asleep in your bathrobe with the tv on.

You woke up with a start, your brain hazy with confusion. Rolling over, you were greeted with the bright light of the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand. 12:12 AM. You weren’t even sure what time you had fallen asleep. You nestled yourself back into the bed, trying to will the white noise of the air conditioner and soft fullness of the down comforter to lull you back to sleep. Instead, you found yourself tossing and turning and very much awake.

With frustration, you pull on a pair of high-waisted sweatpants and a yellow tank top, layering your navy-blue blazer over it to appear at least halfway decent. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, brushing fingers through your hair before securing it into a messy French twist with one of your hair clips. A puff of air left from your lips as you chuckled at yourself.

Don’t be ridiculous, you thought to yourself. You’re not trying to impress anybody.

The silence of the empty halls amplified the echo of your light footsteps towards the elevator. You waited patiently, with arms crossed until you found yourself on the ground level of the hotel. Relief washed over you when you noticed that the hotel bar was less busy than you expected. The bartender attended to you quickly filling your order of a whiskey, allowing you to find a quiet corner booth to enjoy your drink.  The bar was open to the lobby and allowed you to people watch as you took slow sips of your drink. You glanced at your watch.

12:57 am. No one interesting is going to walk through those doors at this hour.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the smokiness coat your lips, tongue, and the back of your throat with sweet burn before you looked up again, noticing a familiar, handsome face walk through the lobby doors. Dave. He was rubbing his hands from the cold December air and his brown hair was covered in a dark gray beanie. You kept your eyes on him, thinking he wouldn’t notice until he locked eyes with you and raised his right arm with a wave. He stopped, shuffling his feet beneath him with indecision until he began to walk towards the bar, towards you.

“We meet again,” you greeted, gesturing for him to take a seat across from you. “Back late, I see.”

“Ah, yeah,” he acknowledged his arrival as though it were an afterthought, “sometimes you get caught up with colleagues and you just don’t have a choice.”

“True,” you agreed, “I get it.”

“What about you?” He inquired, pointing towards your drink. “You’re up late.”

“Oh, yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, taking another sip of it, “that’s why I look like this.”

You waved your hands towards yourself, trying to emphasize how completely unimpressive your appearance was. A chill overcame you as his expression changed, his brow furrowing almost scornfully.

“I don’t know about that,” his eyes reading every inch of you from your head all the way down to your toes, “you look…good.”

Goosebumps tiptoed up and down your arms, like little finger tips tapping and teasing you. You unconsciously crossed and uncrossed your legs, feeling the fabric of your underwear rub against you, your entrance welling with your own sweet dew. Your eyes took a split-second glimpse of his wedding ring. Against your better judgment, you allowed yourself to smile at his compliment. You traced the rim of your whiskey-filled lowball glass, thinking how to respond.

“Congratulations, you have eyes,” you quipped, coaxing a low, growling laugh from him before you continued. “So, I couldn’t sleep, and I came down here to people watch.”

He leaned forward at your comment, his brown eyes round and wide as he raised his eyebrows with interest. His shoulders loosened and his newly relaxed demeanor invited more conversation.

“You like that?” He asked, his brows raised with curiosity. “People watching, I mean.”

The double entendre that left his pouted lips electrified you, feeling his electricity unexpectedly flick at your nipples and then at your core. The dim lighting of the hotel bar, the light jazz music playing over the speakers, and your hushed voices amplified the mysterious ambience around you. All of it together seemed so perfect that you couldn’t help following his lead, so you leaned in closer. Even in a beanie and wearing a thick jacket, you found him nearly irresistible.

“It’s a favorite pastime of mine,” you answered, keeping your eyes on him, “I like to think about people’s stories, people’s personal stories.”

“Is that why you were looking at me, observing me?” His tone dipped in a thin layer of accusation coupled with intense interest. “Trying to figure out my story?”

You stare back at him with a deep breath, wondering why you kept engaging when you knew you should stop.

“I’m not surprised you noticed,” you stated nonchalantly, “as unsurprised as you probably are about me wondering about your wedding ring.”

He strained his left hand open and closed, looking at his own ring as though it was a triviality. To your surprise, he leaned toward you even more, like a challenge.

“You know there’s a lot more to people’s stories than what you can piece together from a fleeting observation,” as he spoke, it felt like his charisma was vibrating off him and floating towards you. “Life, relationships are messy, complicated.”

 You read the unspoken words that uttered from the moves of his body. One hand resting open in the empty space between you in the booth. The fingers of his other hand rubbing at his chin and lips, which curled into an enticing smile. These movements and these words lingered in your brain, until you understood that they were filled with intrigue and desire. You breathed them in and mirrored them.

“So what about your story Dave,” you inquired, leaning in but making sure you kept your eyes to his, “your life, your relationship?”

You found yourself involuntarily licking your lips. The whiskey along with the heat of embarrassment flushed your cheeks and neck. It had you finally admitting to yourself that this man was really fucking attractive. He tilted his head towards you, smiled, and damn near melted you as he traced the bottom of his pouty lips with his thumb. Your eyes tracing every move of his immense, sinewy hands, as he checked the time on his gold watch.

1:47 AM.

“It’s too late right now to tell you that,” he teased, drawing a slight huff of frustration from you, “Ask me tomorrow night, here at the bar. 7:30.”

“How presumptuous of you to assume I’d be available,” you said, tipping your whiskey towards him, impressed by his ability to avoid answering a hard question.  

 “Oh firefly, you’re not the only one who’s good at reading people,” the words left his lips luring you and trapping you like a vice. “Nothing about this tells me you’ll say no.”

Dave gestured at the narrow space between you, his hand almost cutting through the warm air like a sharp blade. The innuendo of his words threatened to set you ablaze. You took another sip of whiskey, allowing it to warm and loosen your muscles, allowing it to calm you.

“Well then,” you willed yourself to hold your tongue lightly against your lips before breathing out the last word, “tomorrow.”

With a nod of confirmation, he stood up and swaggered towards the elevators. An audible gasp that had been saving itself in your lungs escaped you when you knew for sure that he was gone. You chased it with a final gulp of your whiskey, feeling its exquisite burn as it moved through you. Leaving a tip on the table, you stood up and made your way towards the elevator.

Tomorrow night. Your brain spoke to you again.

At that moment the elevator doors opened, and you entered. You returned to your room, discarding your blazer and sweat pants, before plopping into bed. You grabbed the fluffy comforter up to your chin, inviting in and surrendering to sleep.

[fritz-federleicht]

begging for more kurt one shots please please please <3 if it’s not too much trouble some hurt/comfort would b super cool but honestly i would take ANY kurt content lol

Take my sunglasses/ Kurt Cobain x reader

Notes: Thanks for your request. I don't know why but you somehow come across as incredibly likable to me. Hope you like it x

Summary: a fan insults you, Kurt comforts you

Words: 762

In a few minutes you leave the hotel. You hear loud shouting. Fans are calling for their idols Dave, Krist and for your boyfriend Kurt.

You are pretty sure that there will be photographers too. And you don't feel like that. They will just ask you some hurtful questions again. But the fans are no better, if not worse. According to them, Kurt is theirs alone.

Kurt snaps you out of your deep thoughts. "Our luggage is already on its way to our apartment." He takes your hand. "Shall we go?"

You exhale loudly, closing your eyes briefly to get ready for what's happening outside the hotel. "Yes."

Kurt opens the door to the room. You walk down a long hallway until you reach an elevator. It opens.

"We only have to walk a short distance. Then our car will come. I'll always be with you. Ignore everyone who approaches you." He squeezes your hand.

"It's hard. People love you out there. Me, they hate."

"Honey just try okay?" You nod and lean your forehead against his chest. Kurt combs his fingers through your hair. "You'll be fine." He tries to encourage you.

The elevator opens. You step off. Outside a large glass door, you see the crowd.

"Where are Dave and Krist? Aren't they coming with us?" You look around searchingly, trying to stall for time.

"They're in another car." Kurt pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. "You ready?"

You shake your head. "No, but otherwise we'll never get out of here." You smile in anguish.

You walk to the door, someone opens it for you. Immediately the noise doubles. You leave the hotel.

People are shouting for Kurt from all sides. But also for you. You shield your eyes with your hand, protect yourself from the flash. Kurt wears his famous sunglasses.

"Kurt, Y/N please one picture."

"Y/N is it true that you're pregnant?"

You stop, stunned. Pregnant? This is the first time you've heard this rumor.

Kurt pulls on your hand. "Love, ignore people." You nod and tug at your top.

He notices the flash is bothering you. "Here, take my sunglasses."

You smile weakly and thank him. Hand in hand, you walk past a group of girls.

A brown-haired girl grabs Kurt's arm. "Why are you with her? She's way too ugly for you. And so fat!" At this, she looks at you in disgust.

You can't believe what you're hearing. How can you say something like that directly to a person's face. You're glad to wear Kurt's sunglasses. Tears gather in your eyes. You try to hold them back, pulling on Kurt's hand. His physical contact is the only thing that prevents you from bursting into tears here and now.

Kurt tears away from the girl, giving her a nasty look. "Who do you think you are?"

He always tries to be nice. But if someone says something against you he can't guarantee anything. No matter if someone likes his music or not. He protects you above everything.

She realizes that she said something wrong. Her idol is angry with her. Her expression shows slight sympathy. She mumbles an apology.

Kurt tries to catch up with you, but you're already sitting in the car. Kurt sits down next to you.

As soon as the doors are closed and the car has started moving you tear off Kurt's sunglasses. You put them in his hand.

Tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Fortunately, the windows are darkened, no one can see you.

Kurt pulls you into a tight hug. "Don't think about what that girl said." He kisses your forehead. "Tears don't look good on you." He wipes them away.

"She's right I got a big belly."

Kurt pushes you gently away and looks deep into your eyes. "Y/N, honey, it's for other reasons. You know that. It's not your fault."

"Yeah I know." You put your hands on your stomach. "She called me ugly."

"You're not. You're the most beautiful person I know." He gently puts his hand on your belly, stroking it. As he does so, he looks so happy.

You watch him and smile. "I love you." You are so happy to start a family with him.

Kurt looks up from your belly. "I love you too." You snuggle up to his shoulder and try to forget what happened earlier as soon as possible.

Soon the whole world will know that the rumors are true.

You're having a baby!

[mustainegf]

not sure if this is too specific, but could you do a fic where the reader is nervous/a little "scared" of having sex and Dave comforts/reassures her and is like really gentle and praises her? :)

This is real asf, hope I did it justice!

Daves warm lips pressed loving kisses to my neck, showing extra attention to my sensitive spots.

There was a churning nervous feeling in my stomach, Me and Dave had never really had sex before. It's not that I didn't want to, I wanted it more than anything, but I couldn't help but wonder how he'd react to my body, the body I wasn't particularly a fan of.

I thought about how things could go wrong and what he'd think of me. Would he like me? And would he be repulsed by my scars and stretch marks?

Dave lifted his head to look at me, reading the uneasiness in my eyes. "What's wrong? You went quiet," Dave said gently.

I bit my lip, hoping he wouldn't push me any further for an explanation. "Nothing," I said softly.

He kissed me again. "I know something is wrong. Tell me." I sighed, knowing he wouldn't drop it until I did.

I chewed on my lower lip nervously. "It's just that... Well, this is the first time we have ever done this.

And I don't want you to regret it afterward," I finally managed to say. "Why would I regret it?"

I gulped hard, unsure of how to answer. "I just haven't had a lot of sex... and I'm not the prettiest in the world either," I whispered, brushing my fingertips over his stubbled cheek.

Dave's eyes softened. "Honey, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known. But uh, if you're scared about the experience thing, we don't have to,"

I shook my head slightly. "No, no, I want to," I told him softly. "I'll be gentle," Dave nodded.

"I've got you," he whispered, positioning himself up with his arms by my head.

As I looked into his warm brown eyes, I felt all the butterflies in my stomach flutter around, making me feel both sick and excited.

I exhaled slowly, realizing Dave was the sweetest person I knew, sure he had a fiery outer shell, but on the inside he really was just a big softy. He'd never do anything to hurt me.

"Relax," he said, "I promise I won't hurt you. All right?" I bit my lip as I looked at him, knowing I trusted him completely.

I gave a nod of agreement and closed my eyes tight, trying to focus on something else other than the nervous thoughts running through my mind.

"Are you ready sweetheart?" He whispered into my ear, pulling me close and snuggling into me.

My heart raced so fast I swore it was going to fly out of my chest. "Yeah.." I whispered, keeping my eyes shut gently.

He kissed me once more and then entered me in one swift move. I let out a small gasp. He immediately stilled, giving me a moment to adjust to the sudden invasion.

When I felt he was far enough inside, he began moving. Our kisses grew feverish as he moved deeper. "You okay baby?" He asked in between kisses. I nodded against his mouth, not wanting to break our kiss. "You're doing so good, sweetheart," he whispered, his hips moving smooth as butter.

I wasn't too sure why I was so afraid, the feeling was pure euphoria. "Mh- Dave..." I whimpered, burying my hand in his soft hair as he cuddled into me.

"I told you everything would be okay," he chuckled softly, slowly making love to me.

Everything was at Peace, and just the feeling of him inside of me was overwhelming.

"God, I love you," I whispered into his hair, holding him even tighter against me. His pace quickened and he moaned, his rhythm becoming faster.

"I love you too, honey," he growled, his lips finding mine in a frenzied kiss.

"You're taking it so good, such a good girl," he praised softly between heaving breaths.

I wanted him to keep going forever, I never wanted this to end.

The sensation was incredible, and the heat building within me made me crave more. I lifted my hips, meeting his thrusts.

"You're doing so good. Keep taking it ... just like that." His words were enough to make my bad clench.

"I can tell you're close, that's it, just let go. Let yourself feel good," he held me tighter, continuing his sweet love making.

"Come on, cum with me. That's it," he urged, speeding up his movements. "Yes!" I cried, losing myself in his grasp, his name falling from my lips.

He gave a deep groan, and followed soon after.

Dave pulled out, giving only a few strokes before he was spurting cum onto my heaving stomach.

"You were perfect for me, my love," Dave smiled, collapsing beside me.

[ladylooch]

https://www.tumblr.com/ladylooch/743053199228944384/lucie-can-feel-her-throat-tightening-at-how-sweet?source=share

I'm going to need something with lucie telling Con about this.

Following this blurb.

Stella and Connor are watching Saturday cartoons when Lucie comes home. Their little girl is laying, pink cheeks, on her dad's bare chest.

"Mama." She weakly calls.

"Oh no." Lucie frowns. She sets her purse on the counter, then comes to the couch, tucking herself next to Connor. Her hand goes to Stella's forehead, feeling it a little warmer than she would like it.

"We took another turn." Connor sighs. "I got her an appointment at 1."

"Good. Thank you for doing that."

"Of course." He puckers his lips for a smooch. "How is Mack?"

"Um... Well, David says she had a rough night." Lucie talks slow as she stands to head back into the kitchen. Stella's sippy cup is empty and could use some more Pedialyte.

"David?" Connor asks, peering over his shoulder as Lucie walks into the kitchen. "Why was he over there?" Lucie just stares at her husband. "Oh.... Really?" He raises a curious eyebrow, then a slow smirk stretches his lips. "God, I bet that's hot as (fuck)." He mouths the last word.

"Connor." Lucie laughs, running a hand through her long brown hair. "I am shocked. I was... speechless for a second. Like, they hate each other?"

"Babe, I think we all saw this coming. Right next to love is contempt and that's what your sister has for Dave." Lucie contemplates as she fills the sippy cup. She screws the top back on as she walks over to the couch again.

"He is going to be good to her, right?" Connor smiles, smoothing his hand over Stella's back as she whines.

"Baby, your sister doesn't know it yet, but she hit the jackpot."

[littlecourse]

im gonna be real with yall theres no inherent difference between being a fictive and being fictionkin in a system. im not saying that there is no difference at all between fictionkin and fictive, because the subcultures (fictionkin spaces+ fictive-centered system spaces) have their own trends and folks without community overlap,

but the only reasons i see people separating them as concepts so strongly is to avoid the “trading card culture” common in kin-for-fun circles and to try and get people to understand that their identity is important to them or is static/their only source of identity (or vice versa, that they would be reduced if seen as only their source)

but you know. bookending is common in fictive spaces too. otherkin can also have important and/or static identities or a fictionkin identity that’s their only source of self, and fictives can have unimportant and/or fluid sources and identity outside of their source(s)

the overlap is fine imo, it’s the lack of respect for normal divergent evolution associated with no longer being in your source’s situations and the dehumanization of “you are nothing more than a fictional character to me” in bookending/“trading card culture”

…as well as the lack of acknowledgement that static and important connections to fictionhood exist and that it’s not necessarily good to force separation on someone who’s often like that for a reason and needs to grow/change at a healthy pace

like. to get “i am in a system with a dissociative disorder that has goals around healing from that” for a moment, i think people so often assume the identity-shared-with-a-fictional-character part of being a fictive is the dissociative part targeted by healthy source separation, and not the mental separation from your current life and body, and the pressure to stay static and “perform” your source’s identity

im a dave strider fictive/kin and i got into rap music because it was something i enjoyed in my source. when i tried it in my current life, i realized that i still love rap actually and half my playlist is rap based. i still use a lot of post-irony and apathy to get by in life. i still think vulture culture is cool as fuck. i still call myself dave despite (de)transitioning. i love and seek out homestuck related material/media

but shit man. im in a completely different situation from my source and ive changed as a result of it. i use a lot more punctuation now because im not “dave strider from homestuck” anymore and its hard sometimes but i gotta remind myself that i dont have to stay like that. i dont have to try and “out-dave” other daves like i did when i first formed because we’re just different people all (originally) named dave with similar issues and interests, instead of one “real dave” with a bunch of fakes

that and also i can see myself as both the white haired, red eyed girl i am in-system while also seeing my body (and it is my body now, not “the” body, and not even “our” body^), a brown haired, brown eyed white man as me. i would recognize myself in the mirror in either forms. im working on loving and connecting to my body as it is and not as it “should” be

^ (im not saying my body is mine and belongs to nobody else in my system, im saying that for us, everyone in my system (including me) using “my” for my body, my life, and my system, is the next step to getting closer to each other and the life we fought so hard to live)

[themetaphorgirl]

Omg hiiiiii I’m so glad you’re back! I hope you had a fabulous wedding and honeymoon!! Your latest psolc chapter was *chefs kiss*. I reread the whole thing again for the millionth time and I kept getting this scene in my head of the kids in the future. Like they all meet for thanksgiving or they’re all back for the summer and no one’s seen anyone for a few months and like 18/19 year old Spencer just casually strolls in like he isn’t suddenly 6’1 and is the tallest instead of the shortest. Everyone’s just like where did this beanpole come from? Kinda the same vibe as when he cuts his hair in season 5 in the show and just walks in and everyone is like are we gonna talk about this😂 anywaysss I’m excited to read more❤️❤️

this is SO cute and I'm emotional about Spencer being all grown up.

----------

Emily opened the front door with her hip. “What’s up, bitches?” she hollered. “I’m here, and I brought presents!”

The townhouse was warm and noisy, filled with chattering conversation and Christmas music playing on the speaker. Penelope jumped up from the couch, nearly bonking JJ in the nose, and ran over to her. “Emily, oh my god!” she said, flinging her arms around her. “Oh my god, I didn’t think you were getting in until tomorrow!”

“Yeah, me neither, but it turns out when you work for the Czech ambassador and the French ambassador owes you a favor, they can pull a few strings,” Emily laughed. “Oh my god, look at you. Somehow you look exactly the same and yet you’re completely different.”

“That’s what happens when you get older but retain your youthful aesthetic,” Penelope said. “Ooh, you brought wine? I can take care of that.”

“It’s weird to think we’re old enough to drink wine now,” JJ said. She had changed more than Penelope had, her face slimmer and her blonde hair cut in a chic long bob.

“Speak for yourself,” Dave snorted.

Emily snickered. “Nice mustache, Rossi,” she said. He scowled, stroking it self-consciously.

“We’re just waiting for Aaron and Haley now,” JJ said. 

“Derek can’t make it, he’s got a football game tomorrow, but we’re going to set up a zoom call,” Penelope said.

Emily looked around the cozy living room. The Christmas tree glimmered with warm white lights, making the ornaments sparkle, and three stockings were hung up on a bookshelf in lieu of a mantel. “Where’s Alex?” she asked.

“Kitchen with James, they’re finishing up dinner and they’re refusing to let us help,” Dave said.

Emily hurried down the hall. “Where’s the bride?” she hollered.

Alex started, nearly dropping the spoon she was holding. “Emily, what the fuck?” she said, but her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, you’re here early!”

“Show me the ring, show me the ring!” Emily said, beckoning. Alex held out her left hand, her cheeks turning pink. “Good goddamn, Blake, you did good.”

“I’ve had that ring in the back of my mind for years,” James said, beaming proudly. “I thought she would like it.”

Emily held Alex’s hand in hers, turning this way and that to get a good look at her sparkling engagement ring. “You like it, right, Alex?” she said. “Because if you don’t, I will march James to the nearest jewelry store to piuck out something you do.”

“No, no, I love it,” Alex said. James kissed her lightly as he walked past her. “How was your flight?”

“Long, but bearable in first class,” Emily said. 

“Well, you got here just in time for dinner,” Alex said. “Perfect timing.”

A tall young man with tousled light brown hair stuck his head in the kitchen, sliding in his socks. “James, where’s the stereo remote?” he asked.

“Should be on the end table,” James said.

“Oh, perfect, thanks,” the stranger said, darting back out.

Emily frowned. “I thought it was just going to be us this Christmas,” she said. “A good ol’ St. Thaddeus reunion.”

“It is,” Alex said, wiping her hand on a dishtowel.

Emily glanced back over her shoulder. “Then who the hell was that?” she said. 

Alex and James both looked up. “Do you not…oh my god,” Alex said.

“Well, he has changed quite a bit,” James said.

“Guys, who is that?” Emily asked.

James grinned. “Hey Spencer?” he called. “Can you come in here, please?”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “No,” she said. “Oh hell no. You two are shitting me.”

The tall boy, probably in his mid to late teens, ran back in. “What’s wrong?” he asked. He noticed Emily and his hazel eyes lit up. “Emily! When did you get here?”

Emily covered her mouth and doubled over. “I am hallucinating,” she said. “You cannot…that’s not…” She straightened up and peeked through her fingers. “Spencer?”

He smiled, and now she could recognize the little nine-year-old in this grown up boy’s face. “Hi!” he said. “My growth spurts finally hit.”

Alex patted his cheek. “My baby isn’t a baby anymore,” she sighed.

“Holy shit,” Emily said. “Your voice changed. And you’re a giant.”

“I’m almost as tall as Aaron and James now,” Spencer said proudly.

“Don’t let him fool you, he still sleeps with his blanket,” James said. 

[because-she-goes]

bare boned

warnings: swearing, enemies to lovers, banter. Enjoy!

The coffeeshop quietly buzzed as she sipped her iced peppermint tea. Servers collecting delicate plates, people typing in their computers, teenagers whispering over their oatmilk-chai cold foam lattes about who was going out with who, and ofcourse the various hipsters who were simply looking at pages of Ralph Waldo Emerson as opposed to actually ingesting the beautiful literature.

Rooney exhaled, blowing her auburn bangs out of her face, and checked her watch sharply. 15 minutes late and counting. Typical rockstar fucking asshole. Some golden-rust leaves blew in from the breeze of someone entering the coffeehouse.

“Sorry, love. Couldn’t decide what outfit made me look more pretentious - figured if I am going to be interviewed for NME to may as well look the part, yeah?” Gray curls and cigarette smoke was the first thing she noticed. Then the deep, Manchester soaked voice, then came the eyes. Fuck, his eyes - chocolate brown and ocean deep.

She cleared her throat and reached out a manicured hand, “Matty, is it?” Voice silky smooth, an equally Northern accent noticeable by anyone within feet of her.

“Yes, and you’d be Rooney Atkinson if I’m not mistaken.” He shook her hand, eyes piercing her blue ones.

“In the flesh. Now, take a seat I don’t have all day, Rockstar.”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Don’t call me that, I’m not my mother. Just call me Ms. Atkinson.”

“Deal!” His hands flew up in surrender. She looked at her yellow legal pad filled with pre-set questions… all ones he’s been asked millions of times and answerable with a google. Luckily, she’s a good reporter and had watched everything there was about him.

“So, can you enlighten me as to how you landed yourself in America, specifically New York, for this album? Jack Antanoff can travel to any studio in the world and produce the album from Zoom. You guys have made records in the UK and LA before so why New York?”

“Well, for my own self I wanted to make something unique - outside of where we had gone before. We went to the english countryside for our previous album Notes on a Con-“

“Yes, I’ve listened to it. And I’ve heard this answer before I believe, so please… an original answer, not something you’ve recycled and said hundreds of times. I’ll give you the time to think further.”

A silence falls. He takes a drag of his cigarette and leans back into his chair, wiping a hand over his face in thought. Gold cartier love bracelet, rumpled gray trench coat slung over the back of his chair, dark green button up with a hole in the collar, pressed black striped slacks she lists off in her head - fashionable and casual she internally compliments. She adjusts her posture, back straightening and shoulders squaring. Her black sweater, cream scarf and adorning necklaces complimenting the color of her not-quite-maroon hair wonderfully. He takes a quick once over at her and mentally notes how her chest rises and falls with each breath. A sideways smirk falls on his lips, she clocks the cocky “bet i could shag her” attitude a mile off.

“I thought you were in a hurry… Rooney” He dares, dark eyes piercing her - she shivers in her seat and shakes her head to knock herself back into reality. “And if you must know, I was going to move to the city after the pandemic… I looked at apartments with a girl. Fell even more in love with the city after that broke apart so figured if I was already there - why not have George join me for a bit. Adam and Ross could fly there to record their bits when the lyrical shit was done.” She jots the answer down and takes a sip of the tea that had left a pool of condensation on the table near her. This was gonna be a long day, she texted her assistant and asked to cancel her appointments for the afternoon.

“Not anymore, hot shot. Keep talking.” She practically spit back at him.

“About myself? I’d love nothing more.” He fucking winks. Fuck him.

Matty was running late, he pulled a hand anxiously through his hair. Fuck, where was this coffee spot? There were a million in London that all looked identical. He stumbles upon a sign that reads “Rise Up” with a little sunrise cartoon and mug of coffee. Finally, he yanks the heavy door open, golden leaves spin around his ankles. Autumn in London is something unlike anything else in the world. His favorite season: the season of socks with sandals, scented candles and knit sweaters. He breezes in and the smell of roasted coffee beans hits his nose like a tidal wave, looking around like a lost puppy for the redhead Jamie had mentioned. What magazine was this for again? Rolling Stone? Pitchfork? No, it was NME wasn’t it? And her name fuck what was her name… “Rooney Atkinson” he remembers reading on an email.

Like he manifests her into existence at the mere thought of her name, he sees the ginger checking a watch. Oh he’s fucked, he thinks. Both for being late and because she is simply ethereal looking. It was as Persephone herself had come down and landed on Earth to inspect her mother’s harvest. God, he runs another hand through his curls.

He walks up to her and quickly apologizes for the tardiness - like a schoolboy walking in late to homeroom. He feels her eyes rake over him, he smirks. They exchange introductions and remarks - she makes a comment about not being her mother.

He hears her equally northern accent ask him a question he knows he has answered at least 1000 times in this promotional cycle. He offers the staple answer in response, but hears her voice interrupt him halfway through his shpeel. He lights a cigarette and makes a point of looking extra handsome while taking a drag of it. He, once again, notices her eyes glazing over him and admiring his outfit. Matty takes the opportunity of her eyes being averted to scan over her - the sweater and scarf combination contrasting against her burgundy hair. He smiles at her fashion sense and how she looks so comfortable and warm in the tad-bit oversized long sleeve .

Remembering the interruption, he gives the real answer to the question - the answer he’s been hiding from the press for ages out of respect to his ex-girlfriend. Once he’s finished he recalls her saying she had other places to be… he double checks and the point is shot down immediately.

As if he was imagining her saying that, she brushes it off without giving him a minute to deny her earlier plans. The singer is asked to keep talking… he thinks of a comment that might fit will in her article and in with his whole Truman Black persona and throws in a dashing wink. He sees her visibly shudder. Fuck him, he’s a goner, but he knew that the minute he layed his eyes on her.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 09 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3028 | ao3 link

That was way easier and better than I ever thought it could be. And sweet. Sweet and just so natural, like his kisses and his touch. Like the love I felt for him. Like the love he felt for me.

✦ summary: Dave and Nore find solace in each other and cave to their desires in the chaotic aftermath of a drunk driving accident.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, drinking, drunk driving, car accident, vomiting, a little bit of hurt/comfort/praise, fluff, unprotected sex, mxf sex (explicit), oral sex, fingering, alcoholism/drinking issues

✦ a/n: this is a completely new part aaaand it's really explicit so keep it in mind if you're going to read it! also, since every chapter is named after a song, i made a playlist on spotify with all of them, you can listen to it while reading or just to get in the story's mood, it's right here and i will update it every time i post a new chapter. hope you like it, feedback is welcome ❤

✧ the sin I bring, called ecstasy ✧

Alright, whose brilliant idea was it to let a drunk driver take the wheel? 

Definitely not mine. 

Honestly, at that moment, it didn't seem like we had much of a choice. We were all wasted by the end of the day. We needed to get back home, and none of us had enough cash for a taxi ride from Joe's place to ours. A stumbling Lars volunteered to be the designated driver, and surprisingly, no one objected. We even cracked some jokes about the potential disaster, had a few laughs, and that was the end of it.

I don't think anyone was laughing now, though.

We stared in pure horror at the wrecked van. Lars had managed to crash it into a damn wall! Thankfully, nobody got hurt, and we were just a stone's throw away from home, but that didn't make things any better. Dave and Lars were fighting, Leanne was losing her shit, and I wasn't faring much better. My head was spinning, my breathing getting faster, and a rush of adrenaline sent panic coursing through my veins. Everything was spinning. I knew I had drunk too much. I knew I was bound to puke sooner or later. But at least I hoped I could hold it together until we got home.

I crawled over to someone's lawn and pretty much emptied my guts.

"You okay?" a voice chimed in. I glanced up and met James' blue eyes. He seemed somewhat sober, probably because he had passed out for most of the later part of the party, but I knew he was still pretty drunk.

"Do I look okay to you?" I grumbled, and he cracked up. I scrunched my eyebrows. Barfing my guts out was bad enough without an audience, but having someone witness the spectacle made it a whole lot worse.

"Maybe it's best if you go home if you're feelin' like shit. But you don't know the way, huh?"

"Does anyone here feel good? We’re all wasted and screwed with this accident. I'm surprised no one in this neighborhood has called the police yet."

"Yeah, maybe they will. Then we'll be even more fucked, right?" He laughed again and plopped his ass down on the sidewalk, keeping a safe distance from my vomit puddle. I had noticed it earlier, but he got really annoying when he was drunk. I focused on my trembling hands, trying to regain my composure. Take a deep breath, I reminded myself.

"What's going on?" Dave's slurred voice chimed in as he stumbled over to us. "Nore, what the hell happened?" 

I looked into his brown eyes, and they seemed to suspiciously fixate on James, as if he could somehow be to blame for my sorry state. I wondered what he thought was happening.

 "I was..." I gestured towards the puke pool, then spun around to continue unleashing the remnants of my stomach. Oh, lovely. 

He approached, all his focus on me, pushing my hair out of my face and gripping my waist to keep me steady. I leaned into his frame, grateful for the support, my heart still racing from the crash's adrenaline rush. My stomach wasn't faring any better; now that I'd expelled everything, an uncomfortable burning sensation was spreading through my belly.

"I think I've had too much to drink," I grumbled, fully aware of how my voice slurred and dragged. "How the hell are we supposed to go home now?" 

He glanced at the wrecked van and let out a resigned sigh. 

"Cliff's trying to borrow a phone from someone nearby to call a taxi. C'mere." Dave slung his arm around my shoulders and guided me towards the sidewalk next to the van, where Lars and Leanne were already planted on the ground. He helped me settle down beside them. He seemed a bit more composed now, but who knew if he was actually sober or just trying to hide his own level of intoxication. 

I plopped my ass on the pavement, my head spinning and my stomach doing somersaults. Somehow, I managed to hold back the urge to hurl this time. He sat down beside me, shooting me a concerned look.

"You look like hell," he remarked, and I burst out laughing, instantly regretting it as a pounding headache hit me. I groaned, wincing, and covered my face with my hands. "Come here." He pulled me close, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.

"I called a taxi for the girls and got hold of Joe. He's coming to help with the van," Cliff chimed in. "But we need some folks to stick around here and wait." 

"You, me, and Lars can hang tight," James suggested. "Nore and Leanne are not feeling well. Dave can take 'em home." 

Cliff glanced at me, clearly realizing how sick I was. He squatted down next to me and ran his hand through my hair in a soothing gesture. 

"Bit too much to drink, huh?" he asked, and I grumbled in response. "It's okay, go home and get some rest." 

I nodded, hiding my face against Dave's chest. Cliff settled down beside Leanne, doing his best to soothe her as we waited what felt like forever for the cab. Finally, it arrived, and Dave, Leanne, and I hopped into the car. The driver dropped off Leanne at her place, and Dave hopped out to make sure she'd be alright while I stayed put. When he returned, he took the seat next to me in the back.

"Feeling any better?" he asked, and I nodded, leaning my head on his shoulder. He gently stroked my thigh, sending a pleasant shiver through my skin.

When we got back home, I hopped out of the car and headed straight to the bathroom while Dave took care of paying the taxi. I quickly brushed my teeth to get rid of the nasty taste in my mouth and splashed some water on my face. The vomiting had sobered me up, but my head was still pounding like crazy. Dave walked into the bathroom, holding a glass of water and a pill in his hand.

"Got this for you," he said, offering the pill. "You know, to help with the headache."

"Oh, thank you, Dave," I whispered, grateful for his thoughtfulness. I took the pill and swallowed it with the water, letting out a sigh. I couldn't help but notice how my hands were shaking slightly.

"You alright?" he asked, coming closer and gently stroking my face, unsure of how to comfort me. "You've been on edge since the accident. I mean, yeah, it was a total mess, but we're all safe now... Back home, no harm done."

I sighed. The accident had triggered more than just nerves and panic in me. The aftermath was just a tiny part of a much bigger turmoil in my head.

"It's just... This wasn't my first car accident. I guess that’s why I got so nervous," I confessed, and then looked into his eyes. He stared at me intently, his hand moving from my face to my lower lip, his finger tracing the curve of my mouth slowly. My body heated up, suddenly aware of the closeness between us. I let out a sigh, deciding to open up and share what had been troubling me. "Last year, on my 18th birthday, me and my friends went out to celebrate. We got wasted, and when it was time to call it a night, I was the one behind the wheel... Ended up crashing the damn car." I blinked, realizing my eyes were getting watery. It was strange. I had never talked so openly about this with anyone; I felt so ashamed, especially after getting kicked out of my own house. I just hoped Dave wouldn't hate me after hearing all this. "I got hurt. And I hurt my friends too. Dave, I... I'm not the good girl you think I am. I've fucked up big time." 

"And does that matter?" he whispered, his face inching closer to mine. His eyes were serious, and I could feel his breath brushing against my lips. "You’re not a bad person because of that, Nore. And I love you... Your past doesn't mean shit. I love who you are right now."

I locked eyes with him, a shiver running through me as he leaned his hands on the sink, one on each side of my body. He was so close that it made my heart race. And there it was — the electric charge that sparked every time he got too close, the tension building up deep in my gut whenever he touched me. I lightly brushed my fingers against his lips, my breath hitching with anticipation, and let out a soft sigh as he kissed me. Our tongues danced slowly together, his hands gripping me so tight against his body that it was almost painful. 

He broke the kiss to swiftly yank off my shirt, and a little gasp escaped my lips as he started kissing my neck, sucking gently and leaving love bites all over my skin. I felt his fingertips trailing lightly over my back, sending tingles down my spine, until they reached the clasp of my bra.

I flinched suddenly, feeling my face burn and my breath quicken. He froze.

"You want me to stop?" Dave asked, his voice low and husky, a concerned look on his face.

"No," I whispered, looking into his eyes. He stared at me, seeming a bit unsure for a moment, before gently stroking my face.

"Come here," he took my hand and led me to my room. My heart raced as he closed the door, leaving the lights off, and pulled his shirt off, kissing me again. His skin felt hot against mine and my breath hitched as he sat on the bed, pulling me onto his lap. I straddled him, my knees on either side of his hips, and let out a sigh as his lips went back to exploring my neck.

His hands went back to my bra as he removed it slowly. I shivered as I felt the cold air against my skin and even more when I saw the way he looked at me. He lifted his eyes to look at mine, his gaze clouded with anticipation while holding me firmly in his arms. I giggled when he lifted me effortlessly, laying me down on the bed and positioning himself on top of me. He traced the outline of my nipple slowly with his fingertips, making me breathe deeply.

“Dave…” I whispered, and let out a quiet whimper when he sucked on my nipple, his tongue circling it slowly. I moaned, feeling my whole body on fire while he sucked on my breast leisurely, his hand grabbing my hip strongly. He grumbled, a low and satisfied sound, and the vibration of his voice against my skin sent shivers throughout my body.

His hands gripped me tightly on the hips, so strong that I squirmed, a low moan escaping from my throat. He bit my nipple lightly, massaging it with his tongue, and I couldn’t help but moan louder. It hurt a bit, but it was so good that I never wanted him to stop. He did it again on my other nipple, his tongue savoring every inch of my skin while I buried my fingers in his soft hair. His lips explored my skin slowly, kissing and licking and sucking on my breasts, my collarbones, my neck; I knew my skin would be covered in purple marks the next day, but I couldn’t care less. 

When he pulled away, he held my chin in his hand, making me look at him. His eyes were intense and hungry, and they seemed as lost in gazing into mine as mine were in his.

"If I hurt you, you have to tell me," he spoke softly, his hand caressing my cheek slowly.

"Okay," I whispered in response.

"Promise me," he asked, lightly kissing my lips. I nodded.

"I promise, Dave."

He nodded, his eyes serious as he unbuttoned my pants. I helped him take the rest of my clothes off quickly, letting out a small sigh when he saw me naked for the first time. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his face, looking somewhat stunned as his eyes roamed over every inch of my skin. I slowly caressed his chest with my hand, tracing the outline of his collarbone with the tips of my fingers. He brought a hand to my hair, gripping it firmly before leaning over me and kissing me on my lips again.

I whimpered when he grabbed my thigh with one hand, opening my legs and then touching my pussy, caressing it slowly, making my whole body shiver. I lost myself in his gaze, admiring his faintly flushed cheeks, his lips slightly parted while his eyes looked into mine. I moaned softly when he penetrated me with one finger, and then another, moving them slowly inside of me, exploring me at such a cautious pace that it bordered on tortuous. 

“Does it hurt?” he asked in a husky tone. I shook my head to assure him it didn’t, my lips slightly parted and my face flushed, and moaned when he moved his fingers inside me. He let out a soft laugh. “Fuck, Nore… You’re so beautiful.”

He leaned in, kissing my neck, his lips gently tracing the contour down to my shoulder and collarbone, leaving a trail of small kisses as he went down and kept moving his fingers leisurely inside me, in and out while he curled them softly. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back when he pressed his tongue against my clit, his hot breath tickling my skin. 

“Oh, Dave…” I moaned, holding onto his hair with one hand. He chuckled softly, seeming to take delight in my reaction, his breath quickening against my skin. I felt my own breath quicken while I enjoyed the combined pleasure of his fingers and his tongue, my legs shaking lightly as my back arched and I moaned. 

He reduced me to a trembling mess of moans and whimpers as his tongue explored my pussy slowly, sucking and licking my clit while his fingers moved inside me, my whole body on fire as I felt the knot of pleasure in my womb grow tighter and tighter. I let out a muffled cry when he stopped, his mouth coming back to mine, his fingers slipping out from inside me and leaving an uncomfortable emptiness that pulsed, yearning for more. I groaned in protest, almost begging for him to touch me again.

“Wait… Just a bit” he whispered while taking off his pants quickly. He gripped one of my thighs, lifting my leg while laying down on top of me. I melted into a breathy moan when I felt him start to penetrate me slowly, and flinched a little as pain and pleasure intertwined inside of me. “Nore…” he moaned, nuzzling my neck, his erratic breath against my skin as I wrapped my legs around his hips with a low moan while my body adjusted to his size “Ah…” 

I moaned when he started moving carefully. Any pain I felt was slowly giving way to the pleasure of feeling his sweaty skin against mine, his lips kissing me greedily, his fingers intertwined with mine as they pressed my hand against the mattress, and him, inside of me, making me feel things I didn't even believe were possible to be felt until then.  

He pulled away a bit, still moving slowly, and my eyes met with his. I knew by his expression that he wanted to devour me. That he was holding back, because he didn’t want to hurt me. But I wanted more of him, too; I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, allowing him to penetrate me deeper. He moaned softly, his control over himself faltering while his hand gripped my hip and he pushed hard inside of me. It was so good, feeling his warm body against mine, his fingers digging into my skin as we lost ourselves in each other.

He started moving faster, his breath becoming more erratic as he let a few muffled moans escape from his lips. I let him hold me against his body, the pain now completely forgotten as the pleasure of having him inside of me invaded my body, the knot of pleasure growing in my womb until it became almost unbearable.

“Nore, I’m so close…” he whispered, his voice almost pleading as he buried his face in the curve of my neck, one of his hands gripping my hair tightly while the other supported his body.

I couldn’t answer, I couldn’t even think straight while I closed my eyes, allowing his lips to explore my skin, the constant rhythm of his movements increasingly intensifying the knot of pure ecstasy growing inside me until I moaned loudly, feeling the pleasure inside of me become unbearable under his touch, allowing my orgasm to run through my whole body, making it spasm and contract. He grunted, shuddering and holding me even closer when he couldn’t stand it anymore and reached his high, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he came inside of me. He sighed deeply, his face hidden in my neck while he caught his breath, my own breath shallow, my eyes closed as I felt the warmth spreading through my body in waves.

That was way easier and better than I ever thought it could be. And sweet. Sweet and just so natural, like his kisses and his touch. Like the love I felt for him. Like the love he felt for me.

Dave let out a sigh, rolling off my body and snuggling up next to me. He pulled me close, and I hugged him tight, burying my face in his chest, soaking in the smell of his skin and his cozy warmth as I relaxed. His lips on my forehead and his hands caressing my back were the last things I remembered before falling asleep in his arms.

[romanscoming]

UPCOMING POST

FIRST OFF, HAPPY NEW YEARS, MERRY CHRISTMAS—ALL THOSES GOODIES, IM GOING TO B BACK IN SCHOOL NEXT WEEK AFTER MY HOLIDAY BREAK YK, SO I HAVE AT LEAST FOUR NEW UPCOMING STORY/POST FOR YOU GUYS.

**INCLUDES STRANGER THINGS, WEDNESDAY SEIRES, KICKASS (DAVE AND TODD)

NEW TAGLIST | REQUEST | WATTPAD

1ST WE HAVE,

“PROMISE, PROMISES.”

J. BYERS POLYAMOROUS LOVESTORY?

JONATHAN BYERS x BLACK!LOSTKID!READER x WHEELER!OC

STRANGER THINGS SEIRES

THOMAS BARBUSCA AS ECHO WHEELER

(MIGHT CHANGE HIS NAME,, IDK YET.)

STORY IS GOING TO GO WITH THE SONG, “PROMISES PROMISES” BY NAKED EYES

(NOT FULLY SURE IF GONNA USE IT)

SUMMARY:

the two boys may have only met her once or only twice when they’d passed her up in the hall of the school, HAWKINS HIGH, or on the street.. but it was different the pass days, no seeing her on the streets, in the halls or even in the classrooms or the cafeteria,, but now, the next night on the news was ‘her’

their world did not end in a bang, or a whisper, but rather, one scream of fear and a cry of whimper.

PLOT TWIST;

READER HAS POWERS, OR ADOPTED BY HOPPER OR SOMEONE?

— JONATHAN & ENCHO WORKING TOGETHER TO HELP ‘HER’ AND WILL (S1)

ALSO IDK IF ITS GOING TO BE ON WATTPAD OR TUMBLR?

STATUS: THINKING ABOUT STARTING.

“I'VE BEEN WATCHING YOU, ACTUALLY-I'VE BEEN WANTING AND NEEDING YOU”

KENT FISHER (?) x BLACK!WITCH!READER

WEDNESDAY SEIRES

SMUT/FLUFF

SUMMARY;

???

STATUS: THINKING ABOUT IT

“ILL TAKE THEM BOTH, THATS FAIR RIGHT?”

DAVE LIZEWSKI x BLACK!POPULAR!BIMBO!READER x TODD HAYNES

KICKASS (1) [LOVE EVAN PETERS AND AARON JOHNSON.] LIGHT SMUT

SUMMARY;

Picture yourself, a highschool student—pretty, fun, cute, everything perfect beside.., you having a small little crush on a geek,, named Todd.. and teases him and his friend Dave., a lot… Maybe they kept you joking around, or bullying them, but it’s all it cover up for your crush on the boy, from you going to the comic book store to see all of the three friends all today in a window, you’d finally see the beauty in his friend asf well,, you were slowly falling inlove with the two boys without even thinking, but maybe you’ll invite them to your party and pop up with a confession for the both of them.

STATUS; ALMOST DONE.

“FOR THE PAIN, FOR THE PAIN”

EDDIE MUNSON x BLACK!SINCLAIR!VIRIGIN!BIMBO!CHEERLEADER!READER x GARETH EMMERSON

STRANGER THINGS SEIRES

ANGST/SMUT

SUMMARY;

The 2nd most popular cheerleader,, beautiful, cute, sexy, adorable but with great beauty there comes pain, and pain is within throughs of other people putting you down, and telling you, your not worth it but the DnD-Freaks; Edward "Eddie the Banish" Munson, and his closest friend, Gareth "Gare the Great" Emerson sell you drugs and cover up all your pain by getting high with you, and maybe doing a little more and causing thinks that aren't suppose to happen actual happen within seconds of having the best weed ever with a couple of sweetheart mental head boys an, curly haired burnet and dark brown longed haired wavy haired one, but their is a 1st time for everything, 1st time having weed/drugs, a 1st time of stepping out of your shell, and lastly a first time getting letting a boy boys doing this to you also..

STATUS: MID-WAY STARTED

“WITH THOSE BABY-DOLL EYES—CAN—MAY I TAKE YOU OUT?”

BILLY HARGROVE x BLACK!SWEET!INNOCENT!BIMBO!READER

STRANGER THINGS SEIRES

FLUFF ONLY (MAYBE)

SUMMARY;

???

STATUS: THINKING ABOUT IT

ALSO, THERE RILL BE A CHAPTER ii. FOR THE "CRAVING HIS AND YOURS" SERIES, IM TAKING REQUESTS STILL AS ALWAYS, WHO I AM WILLING TO READ FOR IS THE FIRST PIN POST ON MY PAGE!

AT THE MOMENT IF ANYONE REQUEST;

ROWAN LASLOW, KENT, JONATHAN BYERS, ARGYLE, CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM, ROBIN BUCKLEY, GARETH EMERSON, KAREN WHEELER, DMITRI 'ENZO' ANTONOV, OR TASM!PETER PARKER, PHIL CALAHAM OR ONE OF MY TOP FAVORITES ID MAKE THEM SO FAST.