#i wish i could have kissed them goodbye but i think my dad would have actively died on the spot lol

[grace4867]

Guys would you think I'm cringe if you knew that Im actively giggling blushing twirling my hair and kicking my feet

[dollfacefantasy]

I love your writing sm, it's just what I needed μ_μ Do you think you could write Leon being the father of reader's idiot ex who just broke up with her? Leon just wants to console her and the reader only thinks about all the sexual tension they had for a while and now they have nothing to stop them.

(sorry if my english is bad, luv ya)

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your ex boyfriend's dad comforts you after you and his son breakup

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, age gap

word count: 5.3k

a/n: dilf leon you KNOW i love that. thank you so much for your request. i hope you like it! i used death island for the picture, but imagine leon in his late forties for this. as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

Leon lets out a deep sigh as he yanks the keys out of the ignition and his car's engine fizzles out. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks down at his lap. He takes another deep breath and shakes his head before looking out the window at your apartment building. He’d been told you lived on the fourth floor.

He opens the door next, stepping out into the cold air. The sun was nowhere to be found today, the sky completely masked by a collection of gray clouds. He walks around to the back of the car and pops the trunk open to collect the box of memories he’d been tasked with returning to you.

He didn’t understand how he’d ended up with this job. Despite his numerous daydreams he wished he could forget, you weren’t ever his girlfriend. He hadn’t been the one you’d come over to visit. You didn’t fall asleep in his room or wear his t-shirts or kiss him goodbye when you left. He hadn’t been the one to cheat on you or make you cry for days on end either. No. That’d been his son.

So why was he the one going out of his way to bring you this stuff? That was what he couldn’t comprehend.

Well that’s not exactly true. He comprehended just fine. His son planned on throwing out your stuff that’d been left at his house, remnants of your eight months together. Leon didn’t want that. He’d told his son to pack it up and take it to you like a man should. He had been the one in the wrong after all. But no, his son argued up and down, coming up with every reason under the sun as to why it was better to just throw it away. So Leon just gave up. He knew if he commanded it, his son would just shove your shit in a box and drive down the street to throw it from the window of his moving car. The car Leon paid for.

Truth be told, he always had a soft spot for you. A chamber of his heart that was coated in guilt, surrounded by denial, but internally the sweetest part of him. The one piece of his soul that saw some light in the world that had gone dark for him years ago. So just for you, Leon drove the thirty minutes to your complex to deliver your belongings.

He picks up the cardboard box and tucks it under his arm. The trunk slams with a loud thump, and he’s thinking of what he’s even going to say to you when you open the door. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know if you were home. He had a pretty good idea of your schedule from the time you’d spend on the phone with his son or at his house, but he didn’t even check to be sure.

In the midst of mentally scolding himself, the bottom of the box bursts, and your items go tumbling out onto the pavement. He tries to catch them, but his fingers just miss. Another sigh seeps from his lungs as he crouches down to scoop them up. He picks up a pink hoodie that’d been crumpled up at the foot of his son’s bed, a stuffed bear he saw him pull from the crack between the mattress and the wall, and a bracelet that laid abandoned on the nightstand. He collects other little pieces of you scattered across the damp concrete before managing to situate them in his arms and resume walking to you.

He tosses the broken box into the nearby trash before entering the building and going down the hall and to the elevator. From what he saw, the place was alright. You didn’t live in luxury, but he was relieved he wouldn’t be left worrying about your safety after he left.

The elevator glides up to your floor in total silence with him being the only one in the small space. The little ding that marks his arrival releases a burst of anxiety within him. He felt so dumb. He was nervous like he was your and his son’s age. He pushes those feelings away and gets himself to be normal, to act his age. All he had to do was knock, shove this shit in your arms, and leave.

On the way down the hall to your unit, he realizes this plan means this will probably be the last time he ever sees you. Spare some chance encounter at the grocery store, this would be the final time he’d feel your sweet eyes on him or see that timid smile when he complimented you. That made him sad to think about. He never thought you’d be a permanent fixture in his life. You and his son were young, and being the type of guy his son was, he doubted your relationship was destined to succeed. In honesty, he was shocked it lasted as long as it did. But now, the ending was real. Knowing the time with you in his life was coming to a close felt how the sky outside looked.

Once he reaches the door with your number on it, his fist taps the wood twice. He hears soft shuffling inside, followed by the sound of locks being undone a couple moments later. You crack the door open, standing there in your pajamas. Both your top and bottoms were plain gray. You looked worn down. He could tell you’d been crying. Poor baby.

Your tired eyes flicker with curiosity when they glance up at his face. 

“Mr. Kennedy?” you ask with confusion.

His mouth breaks into a charming grin upon hearing that. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leon before it sticks?” he teases.

“Sorry…” you say. You didn’t smile at his teasing like normal. Given the circumstances, he supposed that made sense. “What are you doing here?”

“I have some of your stuff you left at my house. Can I come in?” he asks.

Now your eyes flash with a brief spout of anger, but you still open the door wider for him to enter.

“He couldn’t bring it to me?” you ask with clear bitterness in your tone.

He cringes at the sound. What was he supposed to say? In reality, he was on your side, but wouldn’t it be wrong to tell you that? He loved his son. He really did. Even with all the mistakes he made and the flaws he’d caused the boy, he loved him. He probably shouldn’t talk shit about him with his ex-girlfriend.

But at the same time, it was you. You weren’t just some random ex-girlfriend. He’d known you for the better half of a year. You were sweet, actually polite enough to say hello when you came over. You could hold a conversation. And sure, it didn’t hurt any that you were cute too. He felt something strong for you. He just struggled to articulate exactly what that something was. He was tempted to say you’d become part of the family. That’s probably what plenty of others in his situation would say. But the shameful thoughts that plagued his mind when he was alone late at night begged to differ with that assessment

Right now, it didn’t look like you were doing well. He sees the setup you have for yourself on the couch. A heap of blankets, pushed and twisted up around the spot you’d clearly been laying before he interrupted. The curtains were drawn, it was dark in here. You didn’t need him to run defense for the guy who cheated on you, relations aside.

“Guess not,” is how he finally answers your question to which he’s met with a roll of your eyes.

“Of course,” you mutter while walking over to meet him at the counter so you can inspect your items after he puts them down.

You rifle through the different things, scanning them haphazardly before returning your disinterested gaze to him. Your arms cross over your chest, and you shrug.

“Thanks, I guess.”

You’re clearly expecting him to leave now. And he knows that’s what he should do. Awkwardly shuffle out the door with a small wave goodbye. He can’t though. Something inside him won’t let him pull away just yet.

“How have you been?” he starts tentatively, “Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.” 

“Fine… I guess,” you answer.

You guess. Again. A nervous tick. An indicator of deflection. You clearly didn’t want to delve into the inner workings of your broken heart with the father of the man responsible. He should back off. But he doesn’t.

“Are you sure? I know you two are broken up now or whatever you want to call it, but I still care about you, you know? You’re a sweet girl,” he starts, hating how this was coming out, “I just… I know how it is to feel alone. I don’t want that for you. If you need someone to talk to…”

“I should come to you? Is that it?” you say, a bit harsher than he would like.

“Well… yeah?” he responds.

You turn away, cutting him off from seeing your reactions. “That’s nice, Leon. But… I don’t think you’re the one I should talk to about any of this,” you say.

He takes a step closer, laying a cautious hand on your shoulder. “I think I’m the perfect one for you to talk to about this,” he says.

His reasoning is brief, but he doesn’t feel the need for more. Despite your resistance, the gears in your head are turning, deciding whether or not to take the offer. “There’s nothing to even talk about. It is what it is,” you reply. He can hear that characteristic softness returning to your voice.

“I don’t think that’s true. You don’t have to lie to me,” he says, getting even closer. He gently guides you back to the couch and clears some space for the two of you to sit. He directs your eyes back to him before he finishes speaking. “It’ll stay between us.”

You look up at him, sweet glossy eyes threatening to spill your emotions down your cheeks. He can see your apprehension, but in the end, you still decide to go for it.

“I just… I feel so dumb,” you start, biting your lip.

“You shouldn’t,” he tells you.

“But I do,” you say, voice becoming strained, “People told me he would do something like this, and I actually defended him. I’m so stupid, and everyone knows it now.”

While he wasn’t too pleased to learn of his son’s reputation, his sympathy for you overwhelms that. His hand rubs up and down your back as your head falls to your hands.

“Sweetheart…” he sighs, the term rolling out before he can stop himself, “It’s not your fault. It’s not a bad thing to be trusting.”

He sees your face tense as you lose the battle to hold your tears in. His heart aches seeing you look so defeated.

“Yes it is,” you cry, “I hate it.”

“Hey, c’mere,” he says and pulls you closer. He drapes his arm over your shoulder and holds you to his side. “Don’t talk like that about yourself, ok? Being cheated on doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

He felt slightly awkward considering the cheater in question is his own flesh and blood. The feeling of your soft body against him overrides that thought though. You’re still weeping into his chest, so he continues.

“Look, baby,” he says. Another pet name. His mind screams for him to get a grip. “I love my son, but… I know him too. He can be insensitive, and that’s not what a girl like you needs.”

You look up at him, interested in his potential point. In your eyes, he feels he can see his reflection glaring back at him with disapproval.

“You’re such a precious thing. Someone to be handled with care,” he whispers, stroking your jaw, “I don’t want this to take that from you.”

More tears roll down your cheeks while you take in his words. He swipes a couple away with his thumb as he talks to you.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. With my ex-wife, with my son, with my work. Christ, just with my life in general.” Why was he telling you this? “I look at you, and you remind me of who I was before those mistakes. I know stuff like this can make you bitter, and I just don’t want that to happen to you. You don’t need to blame yourself for what he did or try to keep how you feel inside. Once you get past this, you’re gonna move onto something better for you. I just don’t want you to forget that.”

He watches your lip quiver harder before the floodgates finally burst. Now that he’d given you permission, you don’t hold back. A sob tumbles from your lips. He immediately goes to pull you closer again, but this time you take it upon yourself. His eyes widen as you scoot into his lap.

It’s as if he acts on instinct though. As soon as you have your face buried against his throat, his arms loop around you in return. One hand rubs the expanse between your shoulder blades while the other simply supports the small of your back.

“Sweet baby…” he whispers.

“He told me he loved me,” you weep. He can feel your warm tears dripping down his skin now.

“I’m sure he did, honey,” he says and rocks back and forth with you a bit.

Now you really unload. You cry against him about basically every wrongdoing his son had committed in your time together. He compared you to other girls, told you that you were too needy, forgot your birthday. And Leon listens to it all, not playing devil’s advocate even once.

Guilt burns hot in his chest though. Nevertheless, he tries to convince himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just helping a poor, hurting girl in need. But that excuse crumbles when he simply thinks about what his son would say to the sight of his ex-girlfriend curled up on his father’s lap, clinging to him like he was her new man.

His mind continued trying to justify this anyways, putting forth the idea that this was out of his control. He was powerless when it came to situations like this. The life he led so far had wired a savior complex into his brain. He couldn’t resist you, another princess he could restore to her pedestal.

That was definitely part of why he didn’t put you back on the couch and slowly begin to make an exit. The other part was less honorable. Despite his mind’s ideas of noble motivations, deep down he knew part of this was selfishness. Being human, he wasn’t gonna complain about a pretty young girl warming his lap. And being himself, he certainly wasn’t going to complain because that girl happened to be you. The guilt he felt faded instantly with one look at your doe face or one word from your tender voice.

“None of that is your fault,” he comforts you once you finish your list and breaks away from his thoughts, “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I know…” you whimper before another sob comes from you, “I hate him so much. But it’s even worse cause I still miss him.”

That shoots a sharp pang of jealousy through his heart to which he mentally slaps himself. God, you made him feel pathetic, but in a way he didn’t want to admit, that was part of the appeal. He holds you tighter and nuzzles the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“That’s ok. It’s only natural,” he coos and continues soothing you.

“Why do I miss him? How do I make it stop?” you cry, your voice cracking.

Fuck. You really did remind him of himself which only made this more twisted. He knew what you were feeling so well. That longing ache that festers inside until you feel like clawing your skin off and prying your ribs apart to purge yourself of the infection. He sighs and shifts you on his thigh, pulling you closer to him.

“You can’t make it go away. You know that. It’s a time-heals-all-wounds situation, sweetheart. Just gotta wait it out, but it’ll get better,” he says.

Then he must have truly gone over the edge because he leans in and presses a faint kiss to your hairline. Luckily for him, you don’t protest. Instead, it draws more tears from you. Your arms lock around him and pull the rest of your body closer

“I just feel empty, and I don’t know why. He wasn’t that great… no offense,” you sniffle.

“None taken,” he says softly, a small smile rising on his lips. He keeps rubbing your back, resting his head on top of yours. “Most breakups hurt, even when you’ve run the course of the relationship. It’s not fun losing someone.”

It wouldn’t be fun losing you. That was for fucking sure. He was only making it worse for himself by doing all this. At this point, he wasn’t sure how he’d manage to tear himself away once you stopped crying.

“I guess,” you whimper, lip puffing out into a sweet pout he’d only ever seen as a joke before.

“You’re such a sensitive girl, honey. So delicate,” he murmurs against your hair. He knows he should stop. He’s toeing the borderline, but it’s all he can do to keep himself from hurdling over it at full force.

“I’m overdramatic,” you correct.

He scoffs, dismissing your claim. “Did someone tell you that? Because they don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re precious,” he whispers with another kiss to your head.

That word seems to strike something in you. Your crying that had been dwindling seems to soften down to an occasional ragged breath. You look up at him with your watery eyes. He continues to push away remaining tears on your cheeks before running his knuckles down your jaw.

As he looks into your eyes, the temptation becomes irresistible. He needs you.

“Sweet thing like you… you need someone who can understand you, protect those feelings of yours, not make you feel bad about ‘em,” he says, his thumb dragging over your chin.

“You think so?” you ask.

“Oh yeah. There’s nothing wrong with wearing your heart on your sleeve,” he says teasingly, “All it means is that you care. Plus, this may be just me, but I think it’s pretty cute.”

Your teary eyes widen just the slightest amount, and your hips squirm a bit on his lap. You look down at your fingers fidgeting with one another.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly.

“I do. You’re so pretty when you cry, baby,” he mutters and lifts your chin to get you to look at him again, “You have puppy eyes, just begging for some love.”

A shy smile starts spreading on your face. Your eyes cast down, and he knows he’s got you hooked. Now he just has to reel you in.

“Yeah, you know it’s true,” he whispers and leans in to kiss your cheeks, “Bet you have a lot of fun using ‘em on people.”

“No,” you say timidly, eyes glancing back up at him.

“Oh, of course not. A little angel like you would never take advantage,” he teases. He kisses across your cheek bone to your temple, and then moves his lips down to where your jaw meets your neck. He can hear your breath hitching. His hands pull you closer to his body, feeling your warmth up against him. One slides to your side, rubbing up and down slowly.

“That’s why you need to be taken care of,” he breathes against your skin, “Let me take care of you, baby.”

You nod with no hesitation on your part. He can tell from the breath you let out that you're giving into some temptations of your own. Your head leans in and he ducks down to connect your lips, nearly groaning as he feels the plush flesh press against him. The kisses start off tender, just little pecks as you explore the feeling of each other. But they soon grow in passion. Your mouths open against each other. Your tongues meet, and spit coats one another's lips. You’re both breathing heavier.

He pulls back to look at you, those eyes he had been going on about now clouded with lust. Moving in for a few more, he cups your face. “You like that?” he murmurs.

“Mhm,” you hum, reciprocating the affection. 

He chuckles as you move in even closer, the swell of your breasts pushing up against his chest. His hands squeeze your waist and turn you around so your back is to his front, your head tilted on his shoulder.

“Pretty baby, so eager for me,” he coos as his hands smooth up your stomach to your chest. He fondles your tits through your top, feeling their entirety since you weren’t wearing a bra.

The softest noise of satisfaction leaves you, and you nip at his lips. He deepens the kiss in response, groping you a bit harder. Your hands travel South to his belt, attempting to undo behind your back, but his hand drops and grabs your wrists.

“Not yet,” he corrects with a kiss to your temple, “There’s no rush. I want to take my time with you. Warm you up like you deserve.”

His mouth envelopes yours again while his hand releases your wrists and returns to your breast. He can feel your nipples perking up in anticipation. His cock starts to do the same beneath you. As you feel it, you roll your ass back against him, providing some friction. He smiles against your lips, the prior reservations he had about this leaving his mind one by one.

Maneuvering his palms between your thighs, his fingers coast up and down the sensitive skin. His mouth trails down to your neck to kiss you there, sucking soft love bites onto your throat. You’re single now. It’s not like you’d have to hide them.

He parts your legs a bit more before cupping them underneath and pulling you down so that you’re at an angle where he can remove the fluffy pajama pants that kept him from his target. You watch the soft fabric fall away and crumple up on the floor. You’re a little jittery as he exposes your skin now. This is real, no longer a far-fetched fantasy.

His hand is on your pussy in seconds, stroking you through the thin cotton that covers it. The kisses to your throat don’t stop, and his free hand keeps you in place on his lap.

“Those college boys you’ve been running around with are too busy thinking with their dicks. They don’t know what to do with a prize like you,” he murmurs and drags his nose up the curve of your face.

He chooses to forget the fact that the boy you had been running around with was his son. That didn’t need to matter right now. All that mattered was the whimper that fell from you, the way your hair felt against the crook of his neck. His fingers play with you a little more before sliding into your panties.

“Aw, you’re already getting wet, hm?” he purrs, “Precious girl. Probably so pent up. Never been properly fucked the way you shoulda been.”

You nod and turn your head to look into his eyes. He takes the chance to kiss you again, working his mouth with yours while his fingers coasted through your folds.

“Need you to make it better,” you mumble against his lips.

You feel his smirk and how he kisses with increased fervor. The pads of his fingers swirl around your clit, eliciting a tiny gasp from you.

“Not a problem, baby. You’re not leaving my lap till you can’t remember why you were crying in the first place,” he whispers.

You sigh with content and resume languidly making out. His fingertips are rough on the smooth skin of your center, dragging over your sweet spots with the best friction you’d ever felt. Your body arches into his touch. You actually want more. A refreshing feeling for you.

He continues focusing on your sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking over it, pressing small circles into it, swiping down across it. Occasionally, he’d massage lower, teasing your entrance and feeling the arousal pooling from his actions.

“You like how I’m playing with you? Feel good having that clit touched? It’s so sensitive, just like the rest of you,” he breathes.

You nod again,  a desperate whine unraveling out of you. He chuckles and speeds up his fingers.

“I knew you would. You’re beyond the little boys who thrust a few times and leave you wanting for more. Think it’s pretty obvious you need a real man,” he says.

He didn’t even know where half this stuff was coming from, but he wasn’t gonna launch an investigation into it. It worked for you, so it was working for him.

Your hips buck as he maintains a steady pace and even amount of pressure. He rubbed you just the way you liked, as if he knew your body on an instinctual level.

“You’re gonna cum just from my fingers. You can do it. Have you gushing already before I slip my cock in you,” he murmurs against your skin.

His fingers have started making wet noises as they slide up and down on your cunt. You mewl and tense up, relishing the pleasure he brought you. You whimper out his name quietly, over and over. Leon. Specifically him.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Who’s the one making you feel so good? Who’s the one you’ve needed all along?”

You gasp it again for him. Leon.

“Good girl,” he growls.

He moves his fingers with more precision and dedication, taking you right to the blissful edge and letting you crash over it. Watching how your body writhes on his lap, he holds you through it. He makes sure to keep you up right.

You feel lightning strike within you, the storm of euphoria swirling in the pit of your stomach. You let go all over his fingers, and thoroughly coat his hand with your release. He goes in for more, sliding his fingers down as if they’re going to dip inside you, but you whine in protest.

“Leon… don’t wanna wait anymore,” you whimper.

He chuckles at your impatience and shakes his head.

“You talk about it like you’ve been waiting forever when it’s only been a couple minutes,” he teases.

“Feels like forever,” you pout.

He kisses your frown and pulls your underwear off completely. He then turns you around on his lap to face him.

“You ready for the real thing then?” he breathes, smirking at your quick confirmation.

He boosts his hips off the couch and shoves his pants down enough so that his cock can spring free. It bobs up in anticipation. His hand grasps it, sliding it against your entrance. 

After a few teasing swipes, he sinks you down on it, savoring every small change in your expression. Your eyes flutter, your mouth lolls open slightly, your brows furrow.

“Oh, I can tell that’s what you’ve been needing,” he whispers, guiding your hips into a rhythm.

You bounce up and down on him, breathy moans escaping you with each rise and fall.

“Mhm, wanted it for so long,” you whine.

His eyebrow raises at that. “Yeah?” he grunts, sharply inhaling as you squeeze around him, “How long? How bad did you want it?”

“So bad. Wanted it for months,” you confess as your head falls back, “Wanted to be yours instead.”

He knows he’s going to hell for the rush of satisfaction that floods his veins. He doesn’t falter though, just pulls you closer and starts thrusting up into you.

“Oh, did you? Dirty secret, baby, but I can’t say I didn’t feel the same way,” he moans before reconnecting his mouth with yours, “Sweet baby like you, wanted you to be all mine.”

A quick moan leaves you, and you keep riding. Your hips roll up and down, working him as deep into you as he can go. Your arousal drips down his heavy balls, making a mess where the two of you connect.

“Dreamed about you sometimes,” you gasp, letting it all out.

His eyes droop with more desire. They shouldn’t, but your revelations only spurred him on. He thrusts up harder and digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips.

“Yeah? Bet you felt so guilty waking up soaked between your legs for someone you couldn’t have,” he says, vision trained on you, “I felt the same way. Hard as a rock for you and no relief.”

“Now there is,” you whimper as you lean down and nuzzle your face against his.

With hot breaths in each other's face, you both feel the cords of release being pulled taut. You bite your lip, and he cages you in against his body, keeping you flush against him.

“Even with that dirty little secret, you’re still such a good girl. Need you to be my good girl,” he mumbles in your ear before moaning, hips tensing as he feels the sweeping sense of euphoria.

You nod dumbly as your own high creeps up on you. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whine before burying your face into his shoulder. Your hands clutch at his biceps, digging little crescents into the muscle.

He fucks you through it, making you see stars and keeping them suspended in your sights. You cling to him and clamp around him. His thrusts get sloppy, but he won’t stop until you’re coming down. That’s when he finally pulls out and gives himself a few strokes to completion, finishing on your ass. He figured you were on the pill, but he wasn’t going to make a riskier chance an even bigger risk.

You feel the warm liquid dripping down the curve of your ass. You’re too fucked out to be concerned with clean up right now though. He smiles down at you and gives you some kisses as a way to cool you off.

Reaching over to the end table, he grabs a few tissues and swipes away the small mess on your backside. After some more soothing affection, the two of you briefly readjust your clothing and get comfy with each other again. He figured this probably wasn’t the best thing he could be doing in this situation. He just fucked his son’s ex and now he was going to cuddle her too? But he does it anyway because it was what you needed, and that was his mind’s priority at the moment.

He thinks about leaving though, reverting to the original plan. He could let you doze off and just slip away. But he doesn’t. You’re too sweet, and you’re hurting. He didn’t want to pile on, but the idea that this shouldn’t develop into more than a passionate fuck still lingers in his mind..

That is until he hears your voice.

“Are you gonna leave?” you ask softly.

He looks down, heart aching at the sight of you.

“Not yet,” he answers.

“Ok good,” you say and sink into him again, “I might need you again later. In case I get sad again.”

He rolls his eyes at your attempt to play innocent. “Guess I’m stuck here then. Can’t have you crying all alone,” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum, leaning up to give him a kiss. One of the sweetest kisses he’d ever had. And just like that, you’re luring him back in.

“You know… maybe I should be proactive, make sure you don’t get the chance to be sad again today…” he murmurs, shifting to lay down on the couch and give you some kisses of his own. “Think you need some more distracting.”

He was done for.

[foxy-eva]

Rite of Passage

Summary: Spencer is home alone with his daughter when she gets her period for the first time

Request: Spencer and Reader are married. They have a teenage daughter who gets her period for the first time (initially requested to @imagining-in-the-margins)

Pairing: Technically Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader but it’s mostly about Spencer and his daughter!

Category: Comfort, Fluff

Content Warnings: mentions blood, menstruation, period hygiene, cramps, female anatomy and biology, crying, food

Author's Note: I wrote this for @/imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Writing Challenge! 

Masterlist

Sunday mornings always brought a certain calmness with them. Spencer was still half asleep when you kissed him goodbye, leaving for a little day trip with your friends when the sun was barely up. 

Spencer mumbled something that should have sounded like I love you before he closed his eyes once more, looking forward to some father-daughter quality time with your wonderful kid Marie. 

That was until he was awoken by shrill screams coming from her room. 

You were long gone when Spencer jumped out of bed, all of his years working with the FBI having him expect the worst. He rushed into his daughter’s room, finding her sitting in her bed, a look of horror spread across her face. 

“Are you okay!?” Spencer almost yelled when he reached her bedside. 

His daughter slowly shook her head while pulling back the blanket, revealing small blood stains on her pajama pants and the sheets. It only took Spencer a split second to realize what was happening. His facial features softened instantly. 

He thought he still had a few more months, maybe even another year, until this would happen. He had also hoped that you would be home for this occasion, certainly handling this a lot better than he ever could. 

“Oh sweetie,” he cooed while sitting down on the edge of her bed. “I think you got your period.”

Instead of saying anything, Marie just buried her face in her hands and started wailing. Spencer wasn’t sure if she was still in shock or if the general discomfort made her cry. 

“It’s okay. It just means you’re becoming a woman.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could have taken them back. He hated the thought that his little girl was actually growing up more than anything. And it certainly didn't help in this moment. 

Without thinking about it, he did what he was most comfortable with and started rambling, “We talked about this, do you remember? It means that your uterine lining is shedding which results in the discharge of blood through your–”

“Dad!” She cried. “Please stop talking about my… you know! It’s weird!”

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” 

His little girl wiped away some tears from her cheeks before muttering, “Where’s mom? I wanna talk to her.”

Spencer sighed. He would have liked nothing more than to be able to let you take over right then. “She already left for her day trip. She won’t be home until six.” 

This explanation only led to more crying. Spencer reached out his hand to offer comfort with a gentle touch on her arm but Marie shied away from him.

“I feel gross,” she whined. 

“Why don’t you hop in the shower to get clean and then change into fresh clothes?” 

It seemed like he finally said something helpful. Her sobs simmered down as she got up from her bed to walk over to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Spencer quickly changed the sheets and put out some clean clothes for his daughter before disappearing in his bedroom.

He let out a loud breath as he reached for his phone to call you. Before you could say anything, he blurted out, “She got her period and won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do!”

“Oh my poor girl! Is she with you right now?” You wanted to know. 

“She’s in the shower. Can you please come home?” 

You knew that he wasn’t being serious. A quiet laugh escaped our mouth before you said, “Don't be so dramatic, Spencer. I’m sure you're very capable of handling this.”

“I told her that her uterine lining was shedding. It was not helpful,” he sighed. 

“Yeah, maybe hold off on the biology lesson for now. You know where my pads are, right?”

“Oh yeah, right. She's gonna need them.” Spencer paused for a second. “Oh god, what if she wants to use a tampon? I can’t explain that to her. That conversation will make the both of us cry.” 

“Give her a pad for now, those are self-explanatory. I can talk to her about tampons later if she wants.”

“Okay, okay, yeah. She just turned off the shower, I gotta go!” 

“Good luck! And stop panicking!” 

That was easier said than done. Spencer almost jumped when he heard Marie knocking on the bedroom door. 

“You can come in!” 

His daughter, tightly wrapped in a bathrobe, stepped into the room. She had stopped crying but still seemed upset. Spencer’s heart always broke a little when he saw his little girl in discomfort.

“I’m still uhm…bleeding,” she whispered. 

“Yes, that's gonna last a couple of days,” Spencer replied with a soft voice. He disappeared in the master bathroom for a second to get a pack of pads. “Here. Do you know how to use them?”

“I’m not an idiot, dad,” she snubbed.

The tone of her voice gave away how irritated she was. Usually Spencer would remind her to be more respectful but decided to let it slide this time. 

“I know, Mimi. I just wanted to make sure,” he said instead. 

The use of this nickname for his daughter was yet another reminder of a time that seemed so long gone right then. Marie had trouble pronouncing her own name as a toddler so she’d say Mimi instead. Spencer loved it so much that he stuck with it ever since. 

Without saying another word, she disappeared in her room. Spencer rubbed his temples for a moment before getting ready for the day himself. He decided to give his daughter some space and prepare breakfast in the meantime. 

He was focussed on not burning the chocolate chip pancakes he was making when Marie stepped into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she mumbled. 

Spencer turned his head to smile at his daughter. “It's okay, sweetie. I know you aren’t feeling well.”

She placed her hands on her lower stomach and muttered, “It hurts.”

“Here,” Spencer said as he reached for the hot water bottle he had already prepared. “Heat has a proven effect on relieving period cramps.”

“Thank you.” 

A timid smile appeared on her face when she realized her father was preparing her favorite breakfast. She stepped closer to catch a glimpse of the pan while chirping, “Chocolate chip pancakes?” 

“You know I’d do anything to make you feel better, Mimi,” Spencer spoke in a soft voice while offering his daughter a hug. 

This time she accepted, tightly wrapping her arms around him. Spencer was relieved that he didn’t mess up yet another thing. Marie was very bright and realized something Spencer had thought about earlier, too. 

“Wait,” she said as she stepped back. “You always make mom her favorite meal when she’s in a bad mood.”

“You have a lot in common with your mother, “ he explained. “I figured I should try what works for her.” 

“Now you’ll have to deal with two cranky girls in the house,” Marie laughed while taking out two plates. 

“I really don't mind,” he sincerely replied. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have all kinds of uncomfortable side effects during your period. Taking care of your mom – and now you – is the least I could do.”

After a moment of silence she said, “Earlier you said that I’m becoming a woman now. I thought about that when I was in the shower… What if I don't wanna grow up yet?” 

“I don’t know if that helps, but… You’ll always be my little girl,” Spencer responded while filling both plates with pancakes. 

“So you’ll still watch Disney movies with me?” 

A wide smile spread over Spencer’s face as he took the plates to walk over to the couch. “I was hoping you'd ask!”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

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[venuslarkspur]

guys what if concerning dating history batsis did it with deathstroke.. or rose… WHAT IF HE’S HER SUGAR DADDY LMAO

OMG UR SO REAL FOR THIS THOUGH (Bruce is already getting grey hairs from this girl)

LIKE IMAGINE ME THIS ⬇️💗

Batsis and The Tale Of The Sugar Daddy (and gal pal Rose)

Warning: SLIGHT NSFW, canon dc violence, batfam shenanigans.

———————

Bruce: Listen I think it’s good that Batsis!Reader is financially independent now but where is she getting all this cash?

Tim mindlessly typing away: My theory is Roy got her pregnant and now Ollie has to bankroll them.

Damian: That’s ridiculous, they could have just came to father, Drake.

Dick who is sweating cause he knows why: Yeah..you’re probably right Tim..

Tim: What’s wrong?

Jason who is still agitated his sister is not only involved with his ex’s dad but also the ex: I’d tell you, but I was AND still am confused.

———————

- Batsis is definitely Rose’s awakening, she doesn’t care if she dated Jason that’s him fumbling not her.

- Batsis just started off as one of Rose’s friends when the masks were on, she didn’t know she was getting it on with her friends dad of all people.

- It’s difficult for anyone to really refute it when it comes to the age gap, yeah many think it’s gross but when they met she was the same age as Dick. (27-29) so if Bruce finds out not only can he not be argued with, Batsis will also bring up how his exes are just as bad.

- Not bc imagining Deathstroke who is just insanely soft on Batsis, say even if he gets her pregnant he isn’t going anywhere; Rose could use a little sister or brother ig. But y’all are careful, he knows better than to get a Wayne Family Heiress pregnant.

- I don’t write smut but Ik they are FREAKY, the one place they wouldn’t dare do it is Wayne Manor, he is cooked if they’re are caught there. He will have the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, The Batgirls, Robin, Batwoman, Signal and probs more on him at that point. These mfs will let Batsis’s exes know that’s how petty there are about this.

- Imagine waking up with Deathstroke and ur both barely clothed and outside his window is the entirety of the Batfamily, Arsenal, Three Green Lanterns, Zatanna, Wonder Woman, John Constantine, Booster Gold, Harley Quinn and his own daughter are queuing up for first dibs.

- Slade knows about your problem with some of your exes (cough cough Hal Jordan) and aims to help you by drowning you in jewellery and clothes, like that new faux fur coat and boots? Yeah he bought you that, that new pearl and gold necklace with your initials? Yep he got it. That new skirt that’s shoes the perfect amount of thigh? Yep, his. Like all these past flames and flings (HAL JORDAN) know you’re seeing someone.

- Always reminds you how mischievous you are for getting nasty with him whilst being a “figure of honour and importance”, which quite frankly pisses you off, you’ve slept with most of your dad’s colleagues god damn it! He loves that it makes you feisty.

- Rose is super jealous, and you definitely share a heart wrenching goodbye kiss before she wishes you goodbye, you almost went after her before remembering your dinner date tonight and if went well you’d be confident to let your father know of your relationship.

- If your a vigilante, Rose knows your secret identity (wether you’re batgirl or not), Your Sugar Daddy doesn’t know and you quite frankly would rather he not, you make him swear off the Wayne Family all together, but you feel guilty at not being able to protect them when the masks go on.

- We know Batsis has a limit when it comes to his work, so she will break it off eventually, leaving all the dinner dates, passionate nights and shopping behind. You know you make him very happy (mostly aroused) but happy, so he’s always a phone call away, you’re always down for the occasional fling, and your time with him will always never be forgotten, even if you did the right thing, which isn’t your style at all.

- He’s up there with John Stewart and Wally West with top five men you miss but probably wouldn’t date again for different reasons.

—————————

IDK WHY THIS GOT ANGSTY THIS WAS MEANT TO BE FUNNY BUT WTH. Life goes on yall 😭🫶

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD, the world was a small, uncomplicated place. Mom and Dad don't have much money to travel abroad and their jobs only allow for little leisure, so the furthest vacation spot is a beach four hours' drive from your home city. School fills your days with lessons, friends, and the promise of weekend sleepovers. Every day, you stroll down the same street and greet your neighbors by name. Happiness was as close as your mother's freshly baked blueberry pie.

But now? When your world becomes wider and the reach of your hand becomes longer, it seems that happiness finds further hiding places. It grieves you that childhood was too brief; that bubble of safety from the world's woes and tribulations burst before you could even appreciate it.

The five-year-old you looked in the mirror, twisting your tiny feet to see the new shoes from all angles. Despite your repeated protests that you preferred the blue one, your mother purchased the bright pink one—she said it matched her favorite dress, and mother knows best, so you don't have to bother thinking about what you wanted. You shrugged to yourself; at least it's better than your old one.

Walking down the hall, you found your father. He's not in his usual play clothes – he's dressed for work, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "My little princess, you look so pretty!"

You beamed at his praise, chubby cheeks glowing. Nothing makes your heart sing like Dad's smile. You spin around like a princess in a fairy tale, showing off your shoes by stomping gently on the wooden surface.

“Mom bought it for me. It's not blue, but I like it!”

Dad chuckled. “Well, at least she spent my money on my favorite girl.”

Your mother emerged from the kitchen, your lunch bag in hand. “I saw them on sale at the store and just knew they'd be perfect for school,” she says proudly. Your father turned to you, opening his mouth to say something but, Mother interrupted. “We'd better get going or she'll be late for class.”

Dad sighs, mumbling a “yes, I know,” and kneels to sweep you into a tight hug. Your secret handshake is special – finger guns with “pew pew” noises, then knuckles bumping before more hugs and kisses. Your mother rolled her fondly eyes. “You two are always conspiring, sharing your little secrets. Now say goodbye, Daddy has to get to work."

You dislike it when Dad has to leave for work—in fact, you prefer him to Mom. But, Mom said he had to go or else there would be no food on the table for dinner; Besides, Daddy will definitely come back home and you can play with him again. You waved, forcing a smile to look as happy as possible.

"Bye, Daddy!"

"See you soon, princess." With a wave of his hand, your father answered and vanished behind the wooden door.

As Daddy's car pulls away from the curb, you hear Mom walking over to where the car keys are kept. You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly, but that strange tightness in your chest persists—one that usually occurs when it's just Mom and you. She opened the door and told you to go to the car. You followed her in silence, eyes fixed on the pattern on your new pink shoes.

Sliding into the backseat, you peer out the window. The car engine started, and the radio played the same playlist. You watch the buildings and trees move backward. Mom glances at you in the rearview mirror and corrects you about your slumped posture, saying it's an ugly look for a young lady. You sat up straight in your chair and muttered an apology. Satisfied, your mother returned her attention to the road.

Secretly, you wish it could be your dad driving you to school instead. He's more fun, telling silly stories to make you laugh, and doesn't mind your messy crayons or clothes that don't match perfectly. Your mother always finds fault with anything that is unclean or out of place.

Looking up at the clear sky, you hope the sun will soon be above, indicating that lunchtime is approaching. Lunchtime means it's a few hours until sundown, and dinner will soon be served.  You want to quickly see Dad and hear whatever stories he has during the day—that is, if he comes home. Lately, work has been keeping him from home more and more. However, if he's too busy, then tomorrow will do—Sunday sounds fun. He never missed a Sunday with you.

The weekend comes quickly, and you can barely contain your excitement when Dad takes you to the park Sunday morning. You walk hand in hand down the busy sidewalk, you chat a mile a minute about school. Laughter and barking greeted you both.

A fluffy golden retriever catches your eye, and you tug Daddy's hand, pointing excitedly. “Can we get a puppy, Daddy? Please? I'd take such good care of it, I promise!”

Your father chuckled, then shook his head. “You know how your mother feels about furry friends making a mess in the house.”

Disappointed, you scruff your shoes in the dirt. Dad never refuses what you want, no matter how ridiculous it is, unless it contradicts Mom. Unfortunately, the majority of what you desire is always something your mother despises. You continue walking.

Then he points – an ice cream cart! “Can I have one?” You ask, only to remember. "Mom said no sweets before dinner."

Dad crouches to meet your downcast eyes. “But Mom's not here. And you and me, we're partners in crime, right? I won't tell if you won't. What do you say we keep our sweet treat just between us?”

Gasping for joy, bubbles of laughter escaped your lips. "Okay!" Dad got you cones, of course, chocolate ones, and you swung your clasped hands and gawked at all the colorful, melted options. There's no better way to spend a Sunday than taking a stroll with Dad in the sunshine.

Monday night, however, was spent with you lying in bed with a fever ravaging your little body. Through the haze, you hear raised voices carrying down the hall—Mom scolding Dad for letting you have that ice cream.

“I can't believe you disobeyed me, Peter! One ice cream and now she's sick as a dog.” Her shrill voice pierces your pounding head.

“C'mon Anna, the girl's allowed a treat now and then.” Dad's calmer rumble does little to quell your mother's fury.

“If you'd listened to me from the start, this never would've happened. But you always think you know best.” Their arguing grows more heated, and you curl into a tight ball, wishing you could disappear.

Your mother's booming footsteps grew farther away as their conversations ceased. You open your eyes. When your door creaks and you turn around, the light from the corridor peeks through a tiny opening, and your father's form fills the frame. He sits next to you with a strained, contrite expression on his face.

“Hey, honey,” he started. “I'm sorry our secret got out. Mom's just worried about you being sick.”

You try to smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “S’okay, Daddy.” You said, and he stroked your damp hair tenderly; concern etched deep.

“Jesus, you're burning up. How about a story to take your mind off feeling bad?”

As if on cue, you remember – “The Nutcracker, please!”

With a kind grin, your father got up to get the cherished book. He takes a seat next to you, acts puzzled as he flips through a book and clears his throat.

"Now let's see, how did this story go again?" You chuckled at his attempt to divert your attention from your fever.

Soon later, he starts reading aloud with a low, comfortable voice. Sometimes, he stumbles over long words or loses his place, but each time he simply smiles sheepishly before continuing on. His favorite part is the dialogue, as he frequently adopts a different voice to portray different characters. You find yourself entranced, following each magical adventure.

For a little while, you can forget about the uncomfortable heat covering your body and Mom's angry shouts. In these quiet moments with your father, nothing else matters but his gentle company. In this once kinder world, he is still your father and you are still his favorite daughter—his one and only. Even if getting an ice cream is what makes you sick, you would do it all over again just to share this time with him.

By the story's end, your eyelids grow heavy enough, but not quite heavy. Dad chuckled, closing the book. “Still awake, little love? You must be feeling better.”

Your lips curve into a smile, glazed eyes glistening as flushed cheeks rise. “Mom signed me up for ballet classes,” you mumble sleepily.

A gasp escaped his lips, his forehead shot upwards emphasizing the already existing wrinkles. He looked at you with irises the same color as yours. You chuckle from his reaction, but your smile fades when his features swim and blur before you like figures in a dream. His gaze was always so kind, looks darker than you recall. Stubble shadows his jaw. When he smiles now, it doesn't reach as far.

He said your name—but it sounded foreign, it felt wrong. Why can't you see him clearly anymore?

“My little princess, you’re going to be the greatest ballet dancer the world has ever seen.” You wanted to answer, to hold this moment with him forever; but heavy eyelids won the battle and ultimately dragged you down. As the darkness enveloped you, Dad's hazy face was the last thing on your mind.

Thin curtains block the dreary morning light as you begin your daily ritual of waking up. The city has just woken up below; fog still hangs on the streets of London as you pad barefoot to the kitchen, the hardwood cold under your feet.

Filling the kettle, you set it to boil and retrieve your favorite chipped mug from the shelf. Your hand reaches for a packet of instant grounds—two scoops of it go inside, followed by a splash of cream. After lifting the whistling kettle, you poured in the boiling water slowly before taking a tea spoon to stir. The sound of the drizzle striking the glass was amplified by the apartment's quiet, and a small clink! sound is added each time your spoon meets your porcelain mug.

Lifting the mug, you breathe deep its comforting aroma before taking a careful sip, sighing as warmth spreads through your body. Coffee in hand, you turn to the task of packing your bag, put the essentials: water bottle, warm up shorts, warm up sweater, leg warmers, two pointe shoes, skirts, and a pouch containing deodorant, hair spray, comb, pins , and band aids.

Feeling quite satisfied, you finish your coffee and rinse the mug before leaving it to dry. You go shower and do your skincare routine. Pulling out your clothes drawer, you retrieve the leotard and tights, sliding the familiar fabrics over still-damp limbs.

Before the full-length mirror, you start to stretch. First position – feet turned out, heels together, arms graceful at your sides. Middle split – breathe in, reach for your toes, feel the burn in your thighs. Forward fold, palms flat on the floor, spine lengthening. After feeling warmed up for the day, you slowly got up and grabbed your bag towards the door.

The city was already starting to get busy, with the hustle and bustle of commuters making their way to work. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and brewing coffee wafting through the air. You quickened your footsteps on the cobblestone streets.

When the train door opens, you rush out, clutching your bag tight. Racing up the stairs, you burst through the exit and meet the cold air from the rain. You rubbed your hands against your arms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself. Overhead, heavy clouds hung low. You set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

But, as your building comes into view, you slow down—memories from last night fill your head. It was just here—under the awnings of that little café—that you first took shelter from the rain with him.

Simon. His name whispers through your mind like fog swirling around lampposts. If only the place was still open, maybe you would come in for a sweet warm drink instead of that crowded pub. Must've been nice, you think—it must've been nice to chat between sweets, enveloped in comfort that stretches time to be longer. Maybe he won't be so guarded and you'll get more than a name and a job—a promise to meet tomorrow at breakfast, for example.

Realizing you had completely stopped walking, you shook your head as embarrassment settled on your cheeks. Why do you dwell on such fantasies? Despite his kindness, Simon is just a stranger with just a name, one of many faces in this city that you will never meet again.

With a sigh, you continued your walk and disappeared behind the large doors of the opera.

The heavy doors creaked open as you pushed inside, warmth enveloping your cold body. Long hallway echoed with the conversation of the dancers who had arrived, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor while exchanging a joke or two with each other. You turn into the dressing room. Hanging up your coat, you saw a familiar sight—girls chatting and gossiping as they got ready.

You sat down at one of the dressers, placing your duffel bag at your feet. The sound of a zipper being opened sounded in the air; you bent down and reached for your pouch. Then, you pull out your trusty lip balm before applying it to your lips and gently massaging in the colorless formula.

Just then, a girl came and stopped at the door frame, panting. “It's up! The casting announcement is on the board!”

Squeals of excitement and joy were heard as they rushed to see who got what role. You hurriedly closed your balm, returned it to the pouch before getting up from the chair following the others. They had gathered at the end of the hall, jostling to see a piece of paper stuck to the board.

Air fills your lungs slowly when you inhale. It felt like your hammering heart was going to drop to your stomach as your legs started to swing. The pessimistic side of you says to turn around—why bother? It said tauntingly, you know which role you ended up having. But the hopeful side—the little girl still full of dreams stored somewhere in your ribs—insisted on peering and feeling.

As you stepped into the crowd of dancers, they turned around and some started smiling at you. One of them, Jasmine, approached you after calling your name.

“You did it! You got the role!”

As she hugged you, you scanned down the long list. Your eyes freeze on the main role. The Swan Queen. Beside it is printed in big black letters, your name. The Swan Queen.

You detach yourself from Jasmine's embrace, muttering excuses as you flee down the hall to the toilet. Step by step opening each stall to make sure the space is totally empty, you then lock yourself in one of them and sink into the closed toilet lid. Your mind is racing with a plethora of feelings as your eyes are fixed on the sections of tile plaque.

Joy, pride, disbelief... But underneath it all lies a hollow ache you can't place. Why? Isn't this what you've always wanted, to to become more than just another dancer in the group, to stop at precisely the thirteenth, and somehow take on the role of the Swan Queen—the one who shines the most on stage? Perhaps it's the self-conscious part of you, believing that the director must have made a mistake and mistook you for someone else.

Or perhaps this emptiness was once occupied by the never-ending quest for approval. In truth, that person no longer exists; you have no one left to tell this good news to. The chairs in the crowd were empty.

The cost of keeping everyone at a distance, indeed.

You clutch on your leotard, the fabric wrinkling in your tight grip. Gazing up at the ceiling and inhaling again, you make the decision to push up on unsteady legs and get out of the stall.

The hallway seems louder than before. Every footstep and whisper amplified in your mind, eyes tracking you as you pass—all judging, wondering. A flush creeps up your neck. You speed up your steps, hoping to quickly get out from under their scrutinizing gaze. However, no matter how hard you try, your ears cannot be deafened by the snatches of hushed conversation that follow.

“Can't believe they chose her; she's so soulless on stage.” Your throat constricts, and your hands are clenched into pale fists.

Claudine's piercing stare cuts through the crowd as your eyes meet. She rakes her gaze over you slowly, as if trying to decipher what the director found so special. You lowered your eyes, hurriedly passing to the safety of the empty dressing room. Grabbing your bag with shaky hands, you flee once more to the practice studio, desperate to lose their judgment.

The studio door's knob turned, and as you pushed slightly to get a glimpse inside, the hinges creaked. With the coach and pianist, the director was engaged in a serious discussion. He gives you a quick glance and gestures for you to enter.

“(Y/N), it's so wonderful to have you here. I know this role is in excellent hands with you.” His kind words did little to calm your fraying nerves, but you took the crumbs of his appreciation.

More dancers arrive behind you, their excited chatter filling the hallway. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you catch sight of familiar faces: Jasmine, Sophia, Eloise, long-faced Marie—surely she's not used to not being the main star, and you feel like you've taken her place even though you're not good enough. You swallow hard and turn back, placing your duffel bag in the studio's corner.

The director clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. “Bravo to each of you for earning these coveted roles through your talent and dedication. Now, let us begin our work to bring Tchaikovsky's magic to life for our audiences. Places everyone, we'll start from the beginning!”

Your shoulders rise as you inhale a deep breath. Swan Lake. First time becoming the Swan Queen.

Does the director know that his gaze carries a heavy weight? The more sighs he lets out, the more you suffocate, as if the air has been tainted with butane and you've reached the vertigo stage. His eyes followed your every move, but it was his lips that showed dissatisfaction. Something isn't up to his expectations, and it's not the techniques and poses your ballet teacher has been drilling you in since childhood. You are deficient in something that you are unaware of.

The director calls to a halt, praising and giving notes to the other dancers before turning to you. You brace yourself with a deep breath.

“Your technique is truly flawless as always. But I wonder, could you try injecting just a bit more... feeling?” he began. “You portray her innocence and loneliness beautifully. But what is missing is the glimmer of hope she finds in Prince Siegfried's promise to free her.”

Hope? The girl had lived most of her life as a swan; what silly hope did she still have and seek in a man? As if their hearts have the ability to keep a promise. Swan Lake wouldn't be Swan Lake without the prince declaring his love for another woman and Odette jumping off the cliff from the realization that her dreams had ended in vain. Is it not more fitting that she feels only emptiness—the result of years of loneliness leeching any warmth or longing from her soul?

You tell yourself that, if not merely to cover up your poor performance. The director is many years older than you and has directed and seen many ballets throughout his life. If anyone knows how to bring a character to life, it's him.

It begs the question, though, of whether a cursed being like her seems capable of wishing for miracles or fairy tale things like love. Can a withered flower, beaten down by countless rains, still hold the memory of the sun in its crumpled petals?

“I'll do better.” You said.

The director gives a pitying smile; you felt small beneath him. “Good.” Then raising his voice, “Well done everyone today. Let's call it a day and start again tomorrow fresh!"

Snatching up your bag, you rush towards the exit before anyone can speak to you. With your head down, you push through the doors and into the night. Breathing in trembling, you let your legs carry you down the well-known pavement. The sights and sounds of bustling London blur around you.

You shouldn't have believed that girl. You shouldn't have given that dreamy girl the chance to lead a version of herself that has grown far beyond her—because you know her judgment means nothing, just a limited view of the world through rose-tinted glasses. She is that way because a liar once said that she would make a great ballet dancer, and she stuck to it like a devoted disciple to the words of her God.

It was stupid, perhaps a misplaced self-confidence. With your every step, the negative voices in your mind grow louder, jeering relentlessly at your foolishness. This was a mistake from the start. As if you could ever do Odette justice. Best tell him you're stepping down; let Claudine or Marie have the role they deserve. Your heart is heavy, weighing you down to the floor. 

You almost pass by without noticing, but there, through the haze, glows the warm orange light of that pub. The one Simon and you ducked into that stormy night, where you shared pleasantries over pints of bitter. As you watch the door open and close for the newcomers, you halt.

You're not sure which Satan incited. But when you push open the pub door, warmth immediately envelopes you, scents of ale and smoke mingling with the bustle of chatter. A lively folk tune played on the sound system as patrons laughed together in the booths and around the bar. Steeling yourself, you approached awkwardly.

The bartender looked up, his eyes widening briefly before his lips curved into a flirtatious smile. "Well hello gorgeous, what can I get for ya?"

Warmth floods your cheeks and you shift from foot to foot. “Um, do you have anything non-alcoholic?” You said, awkward voice breaking easily. Why did you come in here again?

He raised an eyebrow but maintained a friendly smile. “Sure do, love. Give me a mo.” As he turns around to prepare your drink, you glance around helplessly.

Faces blurred in the dim light—all engaged in lively conversation. You sit alone at the bar like you're waiting for a friend while watching everyone else meet theirs. A feeling of loneliness overtakes you – what were you thinking coming here?

Bartender returns, sliding your drink across with a wink. “On the house. Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?”

Giving a mumbled thanks, you take a sip acting busy. As you sit alone nursing your drink, you believe you understand why. Deep down, beneath all the self-doubt and shame, is a glimmer of truth you loath to admit – you desperately seek companionship, if only for a moment.

And the only person close enough for you to consider a friend is a masked stranger you will never see again. That's pathetic; you're pathetic. Clinging to the irrational part to watch Simon walk through that door. He claims he's a regular here—his “I'm here often enough” seems to make you hold out for the chance of running into him again.

Twenty minutes pass in a haze, and Simon still hasn't appeared. Maybe he's not a regular after all. You finally glance at your phone—it's time for your usual subway.

Signaling the bartender, you place some cash on the bar as a tip. “Thanks again,” you murmur, then gather your coat and slip out into the chill night.

“Sorry,” you mumble when you bump into a figure about to enter.

“No worries, love,” a British-accented voice replies smoothly, and you glance up, thinking it's someone. A stranger—tall, broad shoulders, but not Simon. Perfectly coiffed hair and skin as smooth as porcelain. He shot a charming smile at you. “Off somewhere?”

Instantly on alert, your eyes start looking for a way to get away from him. “Just heading home, thanks.”

Making a sidestep, his arms extended to block your path. Your mind's alarm goes off. His gaze burned as it swept over you, lingering in places it had no right to be before he licked his lips. You felt a cold sweat run down your back.

“Don't be like that, darling. I just want to chat. Buy you a drink, maybe?” His smile grows, and the sick glint in his eyes shows how much it amuses him to see you trembling.

“Sorry, I—”

“I believe the lady said she’s not interested, mate.”

A gruff, familiar voice cuts through the haze. You whip your head around to see Simon standing there. His face is half obscured by his black mask, but you'll recognize that steel gaze everywhere. For some reason, your heart gradually calms down in your ribs.

“And who the fuck are you?” the other asked angrily, puffing up his chest. A daring move, you think. His too-tight t-shirt reveals his consistent gym muscles, but if Simon is his opponent, you can be sure he's no match.

“Just not a fan of creeps harassing women. Now do yourself a favor and fuck off before I make you.” Simon threatened.

The color drains from the guy's face when he sees Simon's seriousness. He walked away, swallowing his wounded pride with a huff. The pressure recedes from your rigid frame as you watch the figure leave before turning to Simon.

"You hurt at all?" he asked, doing a scan of you to check for himself.

You shake your head, then manage a shaky “No, I'm fine. Thank you.”

Simon looked at you, then looked behind you towards the pub. When he turns back to you, his eyebrows raise slightly questioningly.

“You were in there your own?”

The warmth from his question traveled across your cheeks, striking a contrast with the night breeze. You didn't dare to meet his eyes, choosing to settle on your shoes instead. Despite having come here just to meet him, feeling under his judgment is like getting a shot of adrenaline into your legs—so much so that you want to run to get away from him.

“I, um…” Words fail you beneath your embarrassment.

How pathetic you must look—a lone girl nursing a drink with no companions, seeking solace in other people's conversations. You can't, however, just reveal your total lack of friends. Your mind searched frantically for a convincing reason.

“Just… needed to clear my head after a long day of practice. Thought the atmosphere might help.”

Even to your own ears, the lie falls flat. You didn't know if Simon noticed. Though you're pitiful, he doesn't furrow his brow or look at you that way. He asks no questions at all, not even about poor attempts at lying, and he doesn't press people on matters they would rather leave unsaid. Simon doesn't pry; you think that's his good quality.

Simon looked up at the dark sky instead. “Getting late, this is. I'll walk you to the tube.” He nodded, gesturing down the empty sidewalk.

Thick clouds rolled low. The two of you make your way towards the subway station, passing one by one the buildings constructed from buff-colored brick. Simon is striding beside you, his long legs eating up the pavement with ease. Secretly, you steal glances at his broad figure against the lamplight. Your eyes follow the line of his shoulders under his leather jacket—the way it molds into muscular arms.

This is different from your first meeting. There's no need now for nervous small talk to fill the quiet; you're not much of a talker, and Simon also finds more peace in silence.

Simon's presence feels more companionable than awkward. Warmth bloomed in your ribs as your lips curled into a small smile before it disappeared again. You both walk in wordless sync before you become bored and break it.

“I didn't really expect to see you again.”

Simon glances down at you, his brows quirking questioningly. Did you sound ungrateful? You rush to explain. “I mean, it was all like a chance thing, running into each other like that. Figured it was just... a one-time thing, you know?”

He thought about your words for a moment. “Funny how things work out sometimes.”

Up ahead, the glow of the station sign begins to appear. You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly slowed down your pace, but you made sure it was unnoticeable. Your journey's end draws near, but you hope this togetherness can last longer.

Summoning your courage, you try, “Were you meeting someone at the pub? Before…” Your words trail off, but he seems to understand.

“Nah, wasn't meeting anyone,” he said casually. “Just fancied a drink, is all.”

You nodded, acting satisfied, but actually feeling a little disappointed. It seemed that he was in fact a frequent visitor, coming and going on any given evening; it was just for a drink, like before he met you. Meanwhile, you cling to the prospect of another chance to meet like a lifeline. As the station came into full view, your eyes fell, brewing more embarrassment and desperation in your stomach. Maybe he has someone waiting for him. What were you thinking, letting yourself hope?

Yet, though small, the rebellious part of you refuses to let this end.

"What do you usually drink?" You ask again, grasping for any excuse to extend your time, no matter how little.

“Bourbon,” he replied gruffly. “Kentucky, usually. Good drop.”

Twenty-three years old, but this discussion is still foreign territory for you. Your fingers can count the few times you've tasted alcohol—each occasion marred by your mother's voice in your head, warning of its evil. It's rather comical, considering how it once became her loyal companion for several years—that damned thing became the only thing she looked for after coming home from work and gulping it down flat on the living room sofa to dull her broken heart. You cannot yet judge her as a hypocrite or someone who has learned from her mistakes. As if a single glass would transform you into some fallen woman. It was always all or nothing with her; there was no concept of moderation.

Such inhibitions are not for Simon, though. A man of the world who has seen and done things that you could scarcely fathom. For him, a pint after work is as regular as taking a breath.

All too soon, you reach the stairs leading down to the station entrance. Your feet stopped when he did. Turning your body to face him, you gathered your courage and looked up. His eyes meet yours, and you see him about to open his mouth behind his surgical mask. No, you can't bear to hear that final goodbye.

“Do you..” You started. “Like anything else to drink, besides bourbon? I probably have… something at my place.”

There was a change in his gaze before he returned to his usual guarded gaze. Your cheeks screamed on fire at the implication that you didn't quite mean to make. Such an invitation should be the last thing a girl like you offers to a stranger she's only met twice, particularly at this hour. To your defense, though, he's now an acquaintance, and desperation influences people to do the unthinkable. The nights are getting colder and your lonely apartment won't do.

It seems that your question surprised him too. Simon scanned your face carefully before releasing the tension.

“Tea.”

When Simon replies with a single gruff word, you can't help but smile, ducking your head to hide it behind loose tendrils of hair. Lifting your eyes once more, you find him staring at you. Two people engaging in a silent game of deciphering, each trying to unravel the secrets of the other piece by piece.

“Tea,” you repeat softly, as if savoring the taste of the word.

Fingers twisting together, you steel your nerves before turning toward the stairs to lead the way down. You hear his footsteps fall solidly behind you. Not daring to look back out of fear that this dream will shatter, you mentally urge your feet faster.

At the platform's edge, mist curls between the rails like grasping fingers. Simon was standing right next to you. Slowly, the lights of an approaching train emerge, growing brighter by the second. With a weary hiss, the sliding doors open in front of you in welcome. You turned to Simon, then stepped aboard, and he followed, as you already knew.

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[aurorawritestoescape]

WATCHING YOU

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary/prompt: reader stalks Dave and he’s super turned on by it.

Tw: 18+, mdni, smut, voyeurism, so much of it, m/f masturbation, infidelity, unsafe piv(wrap it up obv), creampie, f/oral, light pussy slapping, fingering, swearing.

Word count: 4,2k

A/n: Happy holidays, @bonezone44 !🎄❤️ It’s an honor to write for you and I hope you’ll like my present! Love you, friend! Merry Christmas!🫂💖

Drabble || MASTERLIST

It’s another day. You’re in your work car, fast food trash lying on the seat next to you. You’re waiting for him, your current target, David York.

You’ve been surveilling him for some time now. Why? You don’t know. For your boss you’re just a pair of eyes so you follow, watch, take notes and monitor who he meets and who visits him and sometimes you take pictures of him, the hottest man you’ve ever seen.

David York, Dave as you call him... or not exactly. In your head you’ve been calling him Daddy all this time. Daddy was a family man. A loving, driving to and picking up from school, helping with homework, building tree houses, perfect dad. He was attentive to his wife, kissing her goodbye in the morning, making her breakfast in bed from time to time, fucking her missionary style once a week in their bed. See? You’ve been a great pair of eyes! You would gather everything you could and send it to your boss. All the information, every minor thing.

Except.. you might have omitted some details. Like sometimes when he sees his wife to her car in the morning his gaze slides along the street and pauses for a moment at whatever car you’re in that day. He kisses her glancing in your direction.

It might be a coincidence, you think. You just got too close, grew a little infatuated with your target and his warm eyes, kind smile and hot body. Maybe subconsciously you want him to see you. Clearly that would ruin the whole mission so you continue watching him and taking notes.

There is another reason you feel your heart and pussy flutter when you set your eyes on him. Every Tuesday and Thursday when his wife takes their daughters to their dance class he sits down in an armchair in the living room, a laptop in front of him on the coffee table and gets himself off. Watching in your car outside his house you have a great view of the whole process. He discards his belt, unzips his usual slacks and takes out his perfect cock. It’s big and thick, a little curved to the side, veiny but not too much. Perfect!

The first time it happened you reached for your binoculars so fast you spilled your coffee all over the car mat and then nearly choked on your spit at the sight of his length. He began stroking it slowly at first watching whatever was happening on the screen of his laptop while your heart was pounding in your chest and your pussy tingled making you squirm in your seat. With his hand sliding up and down his cock at a growing pace, he closed his eyes, turned his head towards the window, towards you, and bit his lower lip. You couldn’t help but whimper witnessing the sign of pleasure on his handsome face through the lenses. That moment you wished for nothing more than to be between his strong thighs, give him that ecstasy with your own hot mouth.

It happens regularly now. He chokes and milks his cock every Tuesday and Thursday and you watch him and ruin your panties. You don’t dare to do anything else right then and there but as soon as you come home on those days you plop on your bed, shove your hand into your panties and make yourself come sliding your fingers in and out of your tortured pussy. You don’t need your toys, just the image of his hand jerking his cock is enough to make every nerve in your body scream with ecstasy. You know every vein of his member, know the way he loves to start pleasuring himself and know his expression when he comes. It’s in your mind constantly.

You’re in your car waiting for Daddy to return with his daughters after picking them up from school. He’s late. He’s never late. You know his habits, his punctuality so you get nervous. Is he ok? Are the girls?

You’re deep in your thoughts staring at the road waiting for his car to show up and bring your nerves some relief.

TAP TAP

You jump in your seat, as your hand darts to your hip but you stop yourself remembering you’re in a suburban area with lots of civilians around and not armed.

When you turn your head your heart plummets to your stomach and you freeze, eyes wide. Him, Dave, Daddy is standing outside, with a hand on his hip apparently waiting for you to roll down the window. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with no tie and dark blue slacks with his ever present prominent bulge.

You try to compose yourself ready to lie through your teeth, and after taking a deep calming breath, you push the button opening a crack in the window.

He bends over and you see his face, his plush lips, a pronounced nose and warm eyes.

You must be worried, scared, shocked but your contradictory heart is fluttering at the realization that he finally sees you.

“Hello!” he says with a polite smile as his gaze quickly scans the inside of your car. You feel embarrassed scolding yourself for not cleaning up earlier and then another fear sneaks into your mind- have I left anything in the open showing that I’m surveilling him?

“Can we talk?” you hear his deep, velvet-like voice and stare up at him trying to control your breathing and your rushing thoughts.

“I’m sorry I’ve been waiting for my friend. I’ll leave. I don’t think she’s comin….”

He interrupts you, raising his hand in the air.

“Please,..” And then he calls you by your name.

Fuck!

You curse inwardly and begin thinking of your way out. You’re trying to read his expression and immediately drown in his eyes.

Fuck! I need to focus.

He knows. He’s known for some time. You’d be happy to say you’re surprised but in reality you aren’t. Your heart starts beating even faster. Is he dangerous? Of course he is. Why else would they need you to watch him?

“We need to talk,” he tells you, “can we go inside?”

You should say no, make up an excuse or just hit the gas and drive away but he’s here and the way he’s looking at you with his sad puppy eyes pushes you to stay. You can protect yourself if necessary, you think. So you make a decision.

“Yeah.. we can talk”. You open the car door, get out and follow him to his house.

He’s sitting across from you at the dinner table, staring intently at your face, his brows furrowed. He shifts his jaw as if in deep thought. The memory of him fucking his fist flashes in your mind and you quickly avert your eyes. You focus on the table in front of you, crayons and children’s drawings scattered across the surface. You clear your throat and return your gaze to him.

“So.. how long have you known?” you ask, making your voice sound more confident that you really feel.

“How long have you been stalking me?”

“Oh great! I’m that bad,” you chuckle nervously.

“Or I’m just that good,” he retorts with a smile.

“I’m sure you’re,” you breathe out and he raises his brow hearing an almost whimper in your tone. You feel your cheeks burning and you scold yourself mentally for showing your emotions. You want to fill the awkward silence and blurt out, “I'm definitely going to be fired now.”

It’s his turn to surprise you when he leans forward getting closer to you placing his forearm on the table and says looking right into your eyes.

“You don’t have to report this conversation. It can be our secret.”

You laugh bitterly expecting it to be a joke. Yet when you glance back at him you find his expression serious and intense. Why is he looking at you like this, why are you in his house? Your pulse quickens as his gaze slides down from your eyes to your lips and then your cleavage peeking out of your black shirt’s neckline.

“You can tell your boss that you failed or you can keep quiet and continue your mission,” he says, his voice calm and alluring.

“My mission…You mean - secretly surveilling you while you know all about it?” you ask as sarcasm coats your words.

“You’ve been doing it all this time so… you may as well continue,” he smirks. You feel offended by his remark and your instinct makes you to bite back with a question,

“Do you think I like watching you jerk your cock twice a week?”

The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them and his expression changes.

“ I know you do,” a lopsided smile appears on his face as if he’s been waiting for these words all along. Your breath catches when suddenly he scoots closer to you moving his chair and you feel his knees touch yours. You look down at his thighs and his hand flies and brushes a hair strand away from your face. You grab his wrist and hold it as adrenaline is coursing through your veins. The faint smell of his cologne, oaky and deep, his face, his body, so close overwhelm you, and you feel yourself gush.

Your body wants him. You want him.

Still holding his wrist you bring his hand to your face and press your cheek to his warm palm. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you’re about to apologize for your inappropriate behavior and storm off when he cups your cheek and mumbles, “Oh, baby..”

You’re looking at each other for a few moments which feel like an eternity before he shifts his hand a little, swipes your lower lip with his thumb and murmurs, “Nosy kitten.”

You stop breathing completely, afraid to ruin the moment or make a wrong move. He pushes his thumb between your waiting lips and you readily open them for him. You take it in your mouth and begin sucking on it. It’s thick and heavy on your tongue. You moan and shut your eyes imagining something thicker and longer of his in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the pad of his finger and hear his chair creak.

When you open your eyes Dave’s moved even closer to you, so close that your knees are between his thighs and you tingle all over seeing his broad shoulders, strong arms, all of him right in front of you.

“Mmm, my kitten is naughty,” he coos at you leaning to your face until he places his nose into the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath.

“You smell as good as you look, baby,” he whispers and you feel him kissing your delicate skin there while you’re still sucking on his digit.

Then his hand grabs your thigh and even through the jeans you sense how big and warm it is. He slides it up and you stop sucking focused on the hand itching closer to the place where you need him desperately. His lips leave your neck, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and looks you in the eye again, his gaze soft yet intent.

“Can I…?” He asks and your breath hitches for a moment. You nod.

“Let me hear it, kitten. You have a very pretty voice,” he says, squeezing your thigh.

His touch gives you some courage and you reply with a tint of plea in your voice, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

He smiles and asks you softly,

“Could you stand up for me?”

You get up and he takes your hands and tugs you closer to him. You're between his legs now looking down at him. Even sitting down he feels bigger and stronger, more dominant than you. His hand moves to your belly and you bite your lower lip with anticipation. He slowly unbuttons and unzips your jeans and glances up at you. With his eyes not leaving yours he hooks his fingers under your waistband and slowly pulls your jeans and panties down. You whimper feeling cold air on your wet pussy. He bends down, sliding the clothes off your body and helping you to take them off completely while you’re grasping his strong shoulders for stability.

He sits up again and takes you all in, naked from the waist down, still wearing your shirt.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his gaze stops at your pussy and you gasp when he leans down and plants an open mouth kiss on your mound.

Dave caresses it with his lips and bends down a little more running his tongue along your wet slit. He pushes it in between your folds and swirls it around your clit. Your hand darts to his head to grip a fist of his hair and you part your feet to make room for his tongue between your legs.

He parts from your pussy, a string of his spit and your slick still connecting you two, and you whine with desperation.

“Fuck, baby, your taste amazing,” his hand darts to your folds, massaging them and then giving your clit a rub. With his middle finger he takes a scoop of your juices gliding it from your entrance to your clit. He brings it to his mouth and licks it clean, not tearing his eyes off your parted lips and hazy gaze.

“Wanna show you something,” he says getting up and you furrow your brows with confusion and a pinch of fear. He might be dangerous. Having noticed your hesitancy Dave takes your hand in his and squeezes it a little. If he wanted to harm you he’d have done it already, you think.

When your mind clears a bit it dawns on you and your ask with excitement, “is it those movies you watch twice a week?” He nods with a smile, gets up, takes your hand and leads you to the living room.

“I thought they were different every time,” you mumble as you see the familiar armchair and the coffee table with the laptop.

“I have a few favorites, kitten,” he tells you with a smirk taking his usual seat. He spreads his thighs and you glance at the tent in his slacks. Then you turn your head right and look out of the window. That’s where you’d be, watching and squirming in your car seat. You shift on your feet feeling a new surge of arousal between your legs. At this point you must be dripping on his carpet. Dave pats his thigh with his hand and half asks half commands,

“Take a seat.”

You hesitate for a second, glancing out of the window at his car drive, your mind suddenly flooded with images of his wife driving up the road. He takes you out of your thoughts,

“They won’t be here for some time. Don’t worry. Take your shirt off,” he adds and you do as you’re told undoing a few top buttons and then impatiently taking it off over your head.

His dark eyes slide from your face and down to your breasts, your belly and then to your pussy glistening with your slick and his spit. He growls at the sight and adjusts himself palming his growing bulge,

“Hop on, kitten. I know you’ve been itching to see what’s in here,” he taunts you pointing at the laptop.

You can’t wait any longer as well, so you turn your back to him and sit down on his clothed lap. His cock is stiff and big under the back of your thigh and you feel it twitch. Then he flexes his thigh muscles and your pussy cries at the pressure. You hold back a moan and try to focus on the black screen in front of you.

“Lean back,” his hands on your waist pull you to his chest and you rest your back on him as his hands are holding you close. You’re completely exposed and vulnerable, pussy and breasts completely on display for him and you love the feeling of being so naked while he’s fully clothed.

His breath is warm on your neck and then his fingers push on your cheek turning your face to him. His parted lips, hungry eyes are right in front of you, your chest is heaving and the heart is pounding.

He pulls you in for a kiss, gentle and soft at first but gradually desire overtakes your both and you seem to want to devour each other, your tongues tangling as you’re licking into each other’s mouths with impatience.

You melt into his body so strong and broad around you getting drunk on the kiss when his free hand cups your pussy and he begins massaging your folds and clit with his thick fingers, your moans muffled by his mouth.

He drinks your sweet sounds and when he parts from your lips and you both look down at the place where he’s making you a complete mess with his hand.

“Oh, fuck, kitten… look how wet you’re.”

His clothed thigh is glistening with your slick but none of you care, captivated by the sight of his skilful fingers sliding between your folds and rubbing your bud just perfectly.

Your climax is so close you legs are already shaking and you plead, voice quiet and desperate, “Fuck me, daddy.”

He chuckles but his tone lacks humor, “you’ve seen my cock, kitten.. don’t wanna hurt you. Need to get you ready first.”

You whine having dreamed of him inside you for so long, but he slaps your pussy gently and you gasp almost coming from the soft stroke.

“No whining on daddy’s lap,” you hear and your breath hitches when he calls himself that.

His two fingers move down from your clit to your entrance and he easily pushes them in. He starts pumping them in and out of your crying hole, curving them and massaging your g-spot. He adds a third and it’s a stretch but you take it well spreading your legs wider.

His stiff member is pulsing under your thigh and you feel your pussy contracting when you imagine his cock inside of you right now.

“Gonna come..,” you mumble and immediately start shaking in his arms as your walls squeeze his digits.

“Oh yeah.., good girl!” he praises as his fingers are thrusting into you fast and rough, the heel of his palm hitting your clit. Your orgasm flashes white behind your eyelids and you soak Dave’s slacks squirting all over his thighs and knees.

“Yeah… messy kitten,” he says almost triumphantly, panting in your ear, “Should daddy make you lick it all off?”

You whimper, completely spent and his hand slows down.

When your climax subsides and all your muscles relax you’re resting against his broad chest, trying to catch your breath, your eyes closed.

He gives you a minute but then you feel his hand under your thigh as he unbuckles his belt, takes it off and throws it on the floor. You hear a zipper open, and he plants a kiss on your shoulder asking for your attention,

“Come on, kitten, time to sit on daddy’s cock.”

You’ve just come but his words immediately reignite the burning in your core.

You get up clumsily, your legs weak from the hard orgasm, and look back to see him pull down his slacks and boxers. His cock springs out of its confines and you widen your eyes. It looks quite intimidating up close and you worry if you can take him, even after his fingers stretched you.

Seeing your worried expression, Dave smirks as his hand holds his hard cock at the base,

“Don’t be so scared, baby. You two can finally meet in person.” He spreads precum over the head with his thumb. You stare at his girthy shaft and angry red tip, shamelessly licking your lips and he notices, “I’d love that. But daddy really wants to stick it in your pussy now .” Dave takes your hips in his big hands and pulls you down closer to his lap.

Your ass is hovering over him as you’re holding onto the sides of the armchair until his tip nudges your wet hole. You begin sinking down and it aches pleasantly. He’s groaning behind you while you’re slowly taking every inch of him. His hands on your waist are helping you hold your weight, not rushing, giving your pussy time to adjust and accommodate his girthy cock.

Finally your folds and ass are flush against him and you take a deep breath sitting fully on his member.

“Are you ok, kitten?” he asks, his chest heaving deeply against your back.

Your ‘yes’ sounds more like a mewl and you look in front of you at the laptop reflecting your naked breasts and his face, eyes focused on your ass.

He glances up and your eyes meet in the reflection of the screen. He twitches inside of your core and you both moan.

“You wanted to show me something,” you mumble beginning to move a little on his cock and he leans forward. You do too, your bodies flush against each other. You feel him stiff and powerful inside of you and whimper at every movement.

Dave finds a file in one of the folders and clicks the icon. He sits up, pulling you with him and making you lean on his broad chest. You both watch the black screen for a few moments until a video starts and you see a busy street. Dave begins moving his hips and you can’t pay the video much attention focused on his cock sliding in and out as he’s holding you in his arms, thrusting his length up into you.

“Watch it, baby. Made it myself. Bet you’ll love it,” he murmurs as your pussy is dripping around his cock on his balls.

Your fingers grasp the sides of the armchair when he speeds up his movements and starts fucking you hard and deep.

You look down to see him splitting you in half on his cock before he grabs a fist of your hair and tugs on it making you look forward.

“I said watch, kitten.”

You whimper when he gets rough and you stare at the screen feeling the second climax build.

It’s still a busy street and you’re trying to comprehend what exactly you’re watching when you recognise the place and then a person walking through the crowd with their back to the camera.

It’s you.

You, walking home from the local market a few weeks ago.

You sit up watching the screen closer but with his hands under your arms he lifts your hips and uses you like a fuck toy pleasuring himself with your pussy.

The video changes and it’s night time. You know this place. It’s a dark alley behind your favorite bar. You see yourself coming through the back door, a man following you. He pins you against the wall and you’re making out. You remember you two fucked that night, just a one night stand and all the time you’d been thinking about Dave.

“What the fuck?” you ask your shocked eyes glued to the screen.

“What is it, kitten? You've been stalking me, I’ve been stalking you. Think it’s fair,” he grumbles panting hard still manhandling you on his cock.

You’re speechless. The sounds of his hips slapping against your ass fill the room. Your climax is close and you mumble,

“You’ve been getting off on watching me. You’re sick.”

He chuckles as his hand slaps your pussy again and you moan,

“That’s cute. Calling me sick when you’re bouncing on your target’s cock.”

You can’t say he’s wrong and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Fuck off,” you retort, leaning back on him, then turn your head and kiss him. He growls against your lips, close to his own climax. When you part he holds you close and murmurs into your cheek,

“All that time… watching you, kitten…wanted to fuck you so much.” The head of his cock is hitting the spongy spot inside you as you whine and moan. He continues, “Nearly took you in your sleep once… Wanted to slip my cock inside you..my beautiful stalker.”

You come, the bliss opening your mouth in a silent scream, and choke his cock as he quickly follows shooting his cum deep inside your core. He moans your name, his cock pumping all of his seed inside you, to the last drop.

When you open your eyes, slowly coming down from your high, and look at the screen you see yourself sleeping in your bedroom. He’s watching you, lying on your back, with your nipple peeking out of your nighty. The camera shakes as he takes it in the other hand, probably adjusting himself. Then he goes to your mirror. You see his reflection, wearing a black hat and a dark hoodie. He opens his mouth and breathes out on the mirror creating a misty spot on the surface. Then Dave draws something with his gloved finger.

The camera gets close and you see three letters written there.

ICU

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!💖

After Watching You - drabble

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @bbyanarchist @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @nervousmumbling

[kinsfics]

we fell in love in the middle of nowhere (2) – steve harrington

▶︎ NOW PLAYING: amnesia by 5 seconds of summer

⸺ summary: A small town boy, a small town girl, her biggest love, his biggest loss. AKA, Steve's POV of what life in Hawkins is like after (Y/N) leaves.

⸺ author’s note: I was not expecting it to take this long to get this out but work is awful and I just want to sleep when I get home. Anyway, hopefully I can finish rewriting all my old stories sometime this year lmao. Also, I'm making a taglist so let me know if you want to be on it! (it can be for just one character/fandom/series or the overall taglist)

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted

It’s been three months since you left Hawkins, and Steve still couldn’t seem to get you out of his mind. On the nights his imagination would run wild and he couldn’t stop picturing what life would have been like had he found the courage to follow you to Paris, he would get in his car—the same one he spent countless hours with you in—and drive around Hawkins, passing all the spots he had frequented with you.

He drove past the school where the two of you first met, the movie theater where you had your first date after he finally convinced you to go out with him, the park where he told you he loved you for the first time as you lay together under the stars. He remembers that day best. Steve had managed to steal some beer from his dad for the two of you to try, and the two of you had gotten drunk for the first time that night, falling asleep in the backseat of his car after lying in the grass and talking in a drunken haze for hours. Lying in the grass with the stars twinkling above you, he remembers thinking you looked like an angel. He remembers thinking he was the luckiest guy on the planet to be the one you chose. But luck has never been a strong enough foundation to build a future on.

He doesn’t really remember telling you he loved you, but he knows he’ll never forget the way he felt when you said it back. Steve doesn’t think he ever noticed how small this town really was until every turn reminded him of you.

I thought about our last kiss

How it felt, the way you tasted

He remembers your first kiss almost as well as he remembers your last. He remembers standing with you outside your house just moments before you drove away from him for the last time. He had told himself that he wouldn’t let you see him cry. This was your dream, he knew that, and he was happy for you. At least, he wanted you to think he was. But it was over for him the minute you let your own tears fall. Neither of you could bring yourselves to say goodbye. So instead, he pulled you close and kissed you for what was likely the last time. He savored the feeling of your lips against his, the salty taste of your tears mingling with your usual strawberry chapstick. He swears he can still taste you on his tongue, and he’s not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.

I remember the day you told me you were leaving

I remember the makeup running down your face

And the dreams you left behind, you didn’t need them

Like every single wish we ever made

For as long as Steve had known you, he had known about your plans to leave Hawkins. It was all you ever talked about, but maybe a part of him thought it was nothing more than a fantasy. Maybe that’s why he ever thought it was realistic to promise he’d follow you anywhere. It wasn’t until you were holding the acceptance letter to a university in Paris that it hit him how real your plans actually were. He would give anything to forget the way your perfectly done makeup ran down your face as the tears started to fall from your eyes.

Steve is almost envious of how you were able to walk away from your life in Hawkins—from him—so easily. He knew you were chasing your dreams, but he thought that he had played a bigger part in them. How could you leave all of that behind? He certainly wasn’t able to let it go so quickly. Steve wishes he was as brave as you were. If he was, maybe both of your dreams could have come true.

And all my friends keep asking why I’m not around

It hurts to know you’re happy

Yeah, it hurts that you moved on

Robin and Dustin give him three days to wallow before they start bombarding his house with phone calls. They insist he get out of the house and do something with them. But he can’t. Not when everywhere he goes reminds him of you. And maybe a part of him was scared to make new memories with anyone who wasn’t you. If all he has left of you are the memories, he’ll hold on to them even if it kills him.

Steve wonders if you’re suffering as much as he is. A part of him hopes that you are. He knows it’s selfish, but he can’t bear the thought that you’re moving on. He doesn’t want you to realize that you can be happy without him because then he knows he’ll really lose you. Above all else, he doesn’t want to be just one of the many things you left behind.

If today I woke up with you right beside me

Like all of this was just some twisted dream

I’d hold you closer than I ever did before

Every night, Steve goes to sleep, hoping that everything was just a bad dream and that he’d wake up with you by his side. And every morning he wakes up alone. Still, he can’t help but imagine what he would do if you were here. He would hold you close and show you how much you mean to him. He would tell you how much he loves you, how much he needs you. Maybe this time it would be enough to make you stay.

[gingiesworld]

I'll Never Leave You

Requested

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Angst.

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda remembers getting the phone call like it was yesterday. Although Vision had passed away almost seven years ago and she was now engaged. Moving forward with her life, she was happy. Although her past with her dead spouse haunted her.

Although Y/N was patient during the days that she still grieved the loss of her husband. They were slowly digging themselves deeper into a rut. Although Wanda and the twins had moved in with Y/N, they felt like an intruder in their own home.

Especially when they had tried to help Tommy when he got stuck with his Calculus homework.

"You're not my dad!" He yelled at them as their eyes widened. "You never will be and I hate you. I wish he was here and you died."

Y/N was shocked to say the least, instead of speaking with Tommy, they decided to go to their garage. They made themselves a make shift office their for their projects. Even sending an email to their boss to see if they were needed on an upcoming project soon. Knowing it would take more time away from home, if they can even call it that.

"Where are the twins?" Nat questioned as the two sat down for coffee.

"With Vis." She stated until she realised her mistake. "Y/N. They're with Y/N."

"Wanda, do you love them?" Nat questioned as Wanda just nodded.

"Of course I do." She stated. "I just still miss Vis sometimes and it hurts because the twins have had to grow up without their father too."

"I just, maybe this is unfair on Y/N." She reasoned as Wanda chuckled dryly.

"What do you mean?" She questioned her friend.

"I mean, Y/N is very understanding of the pain you've been through since losing Vision, but you're living in the past Wanda and it's not fair on them." Nat told her friend sternly.

"I'm not living in the past Natasha. Y/N and I are getting married." Wanda stated as Nat raised her brow.

"When?" She queried as Wanda came up empty. Since the moment she said yes, she hadn't even bothered to plan the wedding. "See? This isn't fair on them. I've seen how the twins treat them Wanda. They treat Y/N like dirt and I can see the toll it is taking on them."

"They would tell me." Wanda stated as Nat just laughed.

"No they wouldn't. They love you too much to upset you, but you don't love them enough." Nat told her as she looked at the time. "I have to get back to work but I will see you soon Wanda."

All Wanda could do was sit and think before she headed home. Although she loved Vision, she had a whole past with him before he was ripped away from her. But then she found Y/N when she never knew she needed someone, they were her light in the darkness. She was too afraid to let go of Vision and embrace the future she could have with Y/N.

"Where are you going?" She asked Y/N as she entered their shared room after seeing the twins on the sofa watching TV.

"I have a business trip." They told her as they packed their shirts. "I have been asked to consult on a project."

"How long for?" She questioned as Y/N shrugged.

"I am not sure. The project is only just starting and it is a pretty big one so I need to be in LA." They told her as she sighed sadly. She could see the walls they've put up to guard themselves as they spoke.

"We'll miss you." Wanda told them as they chuckled.

"I'll miss you." They kissed her softly before they headed to the bathroom for their toiletries. "But I know the twins won't bat an eyelid with me being gone." With that they bid their goodbye as Wanda remained in her spot. Wondering what they had meant by that. Looking around their shared room, smiling at a picture of the two of them last christmas at Nat's party. Pietro had had the twins so she and Y/N could have time to unwind.

It wasn't until she walked through the halls and noticed all of the photos that occupied the frames were of Vision, herself and the twins. None of Y/N. It seemed like they didn't even live there. Wanda also wanted to know what had happened to their photos so she went straight to the twins.

"Where are all of Y/N's photos?" She questioned the two 12 year olds.

"Dunno." Tommy remarked as Billy remained frozen in his spot.

"Tell me the truth because I had all of our photos packed away in albums other than a couple of the four of us together." Wanda told them as she turned off the television.

"They're not our dad!" Tommy yelled at her as Wanda's eyes widened at his outburst. "And they never will replace him."

"They don't want to replace him." Wanda told him softly. "They just want to be there for you both. Be someone that you can turn to for help. They don't intend to replace your memory of your father."

"But." Billy whispered as Tommy cried.

"I miss him." He sobbed as Wanda opened her arms for him.

"I know sweetie." She whispered as she gestured for Billy to join her. "But Y/N has tried their best to make this a home for all of us. They have tried so hard to be patient with the three of us, but it has been almost seven years since he died and I know it doesn't go away, but it does get easier."

"When is Y/N coming home?" Billy asked as Wanda shrugged.

"I don't know." She whispered as the two hugged her. "So please put their photos back in their frames."

"When can we apologise to them." Tommy questioned as Wanda gave him a smile.

"When they come home." She whispered. As the night went on, the photos were replaced as Wanda was also waiting on a call from Y/N. Wanting to know if they had gotten there safely.

Although Y/N had had the flight to LA booked, they still remained in their car in the car park. Watching as their flight soon took off as thet cried silently. They wanted so much to leave, drown themselves in work but they also loved Wanda so much, and her boys. They were the family they never really had and they are afraid to lose it.

So they sent a quick text to their boss, saying they were running late and needed to catch a later flight because of a family emergency. Then they drove as fast as they could home. Only Wanda and the boys on their mind. That was when everything happened so fast on the freeway.

It was early hours in the morning, Wanda was woken by a phone call. Her heart dropping at the deja vu.

"Hello." She answered wearily.

"Is this Wanda Maximoff?" They questioned.

"Yes." She whispered as she knew in some sense what this phone call could be.

"We have you listed as the emergency contact of Y/N Y/L/N. It appears they have been in a pile up on the freeway. They are currently in surgery right now." They informed her.

"What hospital are they in?" She asked as she started to get herself ready.

"New York Pres." They told her.

"I'll be there shortly." Wanda stated before hanging up and calling her brother. "How fast can you get here?"

"In 20 minutes." He answered tiredly. "Why?"

"Y/N has been in an accident." Wanda told him as she put her shoes on.

"Wanda." She could hear shuffling on the line.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." He told her. She sent a quick text to Nat, informing her of the situation. It didn't take long for both Pietro and Nat to arrive.

"I came as soon as I got the text." She told her as Pietro took his place on the sofa.

"Call me and let me know how they are." He told his twin as Nat ushered her out of the door.

"Are you ok?" Nat questioned as she drove.

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "That phone call brought back everything from Vis and I don't think I can go through that again."

"You won't." Nat told her sternly. "They are strong and I doubt an accident can take them down."

"I hope you're right." She whispered as she watched the buildings go by. As they parked in the hospital parking lot, the two quickly ran out of the car and to the reception. "Hi, we're here for Y/N Y/L/N, they were in a car accident."

"Ahh yes, they have just been put in their own room." The receptionist told them "They had just gotten out of surgery and the doctor will be able to tell you more. He will be here shortly."

"Ms Maximoff?" The doctor called out as Wanda nodded, stepping closer with Nat on her heels.

"Is Y/N going to be ok?" She asked him as he gave her a smile.

"They will be perfectly fine." He started to lead them to their room. "They had endured numerous superficial injuries and internal bleeding so we had to stop that. They also have a broken femur and will need intense physio once it is fully healed."

"When will they wake up?" Wanda questioned as the doctor smiled looking through the door.

"Take a look yourself." He opened the door allowing Wanda to walk inside. She gasped with tears in her eyes as her smile grew.

"You're alive." She whispered as she cupped their cheek hesitantly. "I was so scared. I thought I lost you. I can't lose you Y/N." She told them shakily as they smiled gently at her. Kissing her palm.

"I'll never leave you Wanda." They told her with certainty. "I love you so much."

"I love you too. So much." She pressed a kiss to their lips as her tears flowed freely. A weight had been relieved from her chest as she could breathe. Y/N is still here with her.

As the week went by, Pietro had been with the twins. Trying to keep them from making their own way to the hospital. That was until he got tired of it and ushered them into his car.

"Boys, what are you doing here?" Wanda questioned as the twins burst through the door.

"They wanted to see Y/N and quite frankly, I was getting sick of them." Pietro smirked as Wanda chuckled.

"We're so sorry for how we have been over the years Y/N." Billy told them as the two boys had tears in their eyes.

"Can you forgive us?" Tommy asked them as they just smiled at the twins.

"Of course." They smiled at the two. "I know I will never be your dad. I don't intend to replace him, but what I do intend to do is be there for you. The way he would want someone to be their for his family." They held Wanda's hand in their's as they continued. "I love this little family we have here, yeah all of those words hurt me. I am not going to lie there but I love your mom. I am in love with her and I know she may never love me the same as she did your dad but that's ok. I know that we love each other and we are willing to make this work. I don't want you to hide all of the pictures of your dad away. Maybe have one or two of him on the mantel and maybe make some room for new memories. The memories we will make together."

"That sounds perfect." Wanda whispered as Y/N smiled at her. The twins started to talk more with Y/N and they just listened to them. A silly smile on their face as they felt the love of their family around them.

[sunny374940]

I will be waiting with open arms pt.3

Hello and welcome back to my sadness corner (though this one seems to be the least sad of the three, but probably ready your tissues? Just in case). This (hopefully truly last) chapter centres on Emmrich waiting in the afterlife, just like he promised. (Start from part 1 here, if you want to)

Cw: character death, off screen

@mercars-musings, @redheadsramblings, @sorrowsfallallaround come be sad with me?

Here on ao3

And here are my other stories

“He kissed me for the first time right under this statue, you know?”

“Yes, dad, I know. You've told me a few times”

“Did I?”

The voices were laughing, though there seemed to be an undercurrent of sadness to them and Emmrich wondered idly who they were. He was lying on his back in soft grass, sunlight was warming his skin and he hadn't felt this good in a long time.

He stretched his arms and was surprised to discover that he could actually raise them all the way up, a feat that he had been unable to perform for quite a few years, ever since old age slowly started taking his mobility away. He sat up and stared at his hands. His wedding band was there, a constant presence for the past, hmm, thirty nine years. He had been hoping to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary, but alas…

Wait, what?

Oh, of course. He died.

“The Shroud's Kiss is blooming, should I pick some for you to take home?”

“No, bug, thank you. I'd rather come to admire them here. It will give me an excuse to visit him.”

“Aw, you're such a sap.”

“What can I say? Your daddy might have influenced me a little bit.”

He was studying his hands and they looked stronger than he remembered them being, less wrinkled. But the voices were niggling at him, so familiar, yet he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

“Let's get going, dad. Rupert and Manfred will need us.”

“You're right, we've moped long enough.”

“Goodbye, daddy.”

“Goodbye, Emmrich. We'll visit again soon.”

“Rook! Ellie!”

It was them! He could hear them! But they couldn't hear him, it seemed.

“I'm so mad at you! It's been a year and it doesn't get any easier. I hate you for leaving me here!”

Rook was crying and Emmrich felt unshed tears stinging at his eyes.

"I'm sorry, darling. I miss you too.”

He knew Rook didn't hear him, but it made him feel better to respond.

“Your letter started tearing at the edges, I've been reading it too much. Ellie got me a frame for it, so it wouldn't get destroyed. She's so kind, Emmrich, just like you.”

Their sweet Ellie. Emmrich missed her so much, missed all of them. He buried his face in his hands and allowed himself to cry.

“Did you know that Rupert and his husband wanted to elope? The little buggers! Can you imagine not seeing your only grandchild get married? But I gave them a piece of my mind and they agreed to have a small ceremony in our garden, just like we had. It was amazing, I wish you could have seen them.”

He could imagine not seeing his only grandchild get married, actually, and he laughed to himself, picturing Rook's indignant expression as he was relaying the news. He missed seeing him.

“Hi, grandpa. I got married, but I think grandad already told you. We’re adopting a little girl, but he doesn't know that yet, so keep it a secret, okay?”

“Don't you worry, dear boy, I won't spoil the surprise.”

Rook would be so excited! A great-grandchild! He envied him a tiny bit.

“I'm getting old, you know. I can't come by as often as I'd like. I'm sorry, love. But I think about you all the time and the memories help me keep going. I love you, Emmrich, I always will.”

“I love you too, darling,” he whispered, wiping at the tears falling from his eyes.

“Hi, daddy. Dad can't come anymore, he's too sick, but he sends his love. And lots of kisses. I- I miss you so much.”

She was sobbing and his heart was breaking for her.

“I love you, my darling girl.”

Time seemed to pass strangely and Emmrich wasn't sure how long he'd been here, but discovered through his family's visits that it had been about twelve years since he died. He wasn't entirely alone in this place, there were spirits coming through and the odd soul as well, but they were always moving on to somewhere else. But he told Rook that he would wait, and so he did.

Over time he learned to feel Rook's presence through the flows of the Fade, though he only ever heard him when he visited the Memorial Gardens. Lately, that comforting presence had been growing weaker and he was restless with anticipation. Would he finally get to see him? Would Rook recognize him? He seemed to have returned to the way he looked around the time of their wedding, not that he complained, but the last time Rook saw him his looks were markedly different.

He was pacing around anxiously, when there was a sound like the rustle of yellowing leaves on a very particular cherry tree. He turned towards it and there he was, sitting up, blinking in the soft sunlight and he looked so young and he was here, he was really here after all this time!

“Emmrich?”

And Emmrich couldn't move an inch, could only spread his arms out for him.

“I did tell you I would wait for you, darling.”

Rook came rushing at him, knocking him off his feet with a hug and they were laughing and kissing and finally they were together again. For good, this time.

[ohmotherwhereartthou-if]

I have a weird but hopefully adorable ask!

RO reaction to receiving the news that they or MC is pregnant with Octuplets?

(For Elio, MC brings 8 kids home and says these are our kids now :)

Woof, Lord have mercy!

Cassandra: When the doctor reported that there was more than 4 heart beats in there... Girly was lightheaded for hours trying to contemplate. You can bet top dollar after this you both are not ever having any more kids, this is the first and last time.

Valeria: Laughs. Laughs in disbelief and wonder, she didn't even think that was humanly possible. I mean, she is a twin herself to having two or even three in one go was plausible but...8? Good Lord grant her patience, because you two can kiss sleep goodbye.

Tomás: Nah, my man definitely passed out for a few moments. Goddamn, 8?! That's insane, normally he would take majority of the 9 months wrapping his head around being a dad, but now he's gotta come to grips he is having 8 in one go? Yikes.

On the plus side however, he would prep like a mf. 8 hand-made cradles and adjustments were made to the dining table to he could fit all 8 of the little ones into makeshift high chairs. He is literally making a blueprint of the house and trying to figure out how he is going to fit them all into their respective rooms when they are older. He kinda wishes he had more money so he could afford to give them all their own rooms, he would low key debate asking his mom for some money but his pride ultimately would not allow it. He settles on separating them by gender for now, it would be funny af if he got 7 boys and one girl though. Heavens know that girl would be a such a daddy's princess.

-

Ludovica: I worry more on her health tbh, she would worry the whole pregnancy that she would miscarry. So by the end she is so happy they arrived safely and healthy, she honestly would be very overwhelmed by the number of them though. Vica would benefit greatly from having a small family but she would not complain to have all 8. She might make a case that you guys need to hire a few nannies though, she would be very involved with all 8 of her kids but it is all a bit too much for her though.

Aurelio: The best one out of all the RO's that is fit for this situation. He would still 100% throw up upon receiving the news however, goodbye freedom. He would shape up quick and allocate many of his spare rooms in his manor for his kids, no more overnight stays for any party guests that is for sure. He would hire one nanny, aka a governess, for the kids so that he can work comfortably and MC can have some help. His kids will all turn out 100% like him, read that one other RO as parent's ask to see what I mean by that. The havoc these kids will cause on the denizens of Romandi are unspeakable, however I feel like the home life would look a lot like 'The Sound Of Music' (my absolute favorite comfort movie btw) but how the family is at the end. Constant trips, fun games, and a huge loving family. The kids would also probably be similar to those kids from that movie. Putting frogs in people that they don't like clothes lol.

Elio: I mean... He would have questions as to why you suddenly decided that your shared apartment sized home should now be an orphanage. My mans would be shook but also not turn them out, he would at first want to find them all proper homes but I can see he would quickly get attached. He does 100% MC to find or have a job to support all of these kids properly, he would help (by being a house husband) but it would fall mainly on MC to figure out how are you both going to take proper care of these kids in the long term.

[pagannatural]

Season 1. Wincest Narrative

The way this story unfolds is so, so beautiful and I lose my mind a little when I think about it as a whole. When it opens, the brothers haven’t spoken in 3 or 4 years even though they've both desperately wanted to, and they both think the other doesn't want them. The first time they see each other after Sam walks out, they struggle in the dark and pin each other to the ground and then run away together.

Season character arcs

Sam begins the season ostensibly satisfied with his life at Stanford, with a career plan and a long-term relationship. Two things have to happen to disrupt that- Dean coming back into his life, and Jessica being killed. Kind of a switcheroo. 

Sam was going to marry his Dean-replacement girlfriend. He was never going to talk about his past even though he still thought about it all the time, still looked up cases and tried to follow along with what was happening in Dean’s life. He was going to box his past up and put it away forever and pretend to fit in because this is the life he chose, and because Dean didn't pick him. And then Dean literally breaks through Sam's careful barriers and all it takes is a gruff “yeah well I don’t want to [do this without you]", and Sam packs his bags. He doesn't even look back when Jessica asks where he’s going. He doesn’t kiss her goodbye. 

The way Dean appears to Sam as this dangerous, rough-around-the-edges, so familiar and so alive and so secret fork in the road is just delicious.

Dean starts the season believing that Sam has rejected and abandoned him. He wants his little brother back so badly, but he truly thinks Sam doesn’t want him. He finally has something to approach Sam with that maybe Sam will care about enough to come back to him- their dad, missing. I haven't seen this episode but I know later in the show Dean says he waited for hours outside before he broke in, agonizing over what Sam would say.

Over the course of the season Dean pursues Sam and shows him that he will protect him, keep him safe, choose him, respect him, and save him. The one thing he won't do is corrupt him, which is what he believes their feelings for each other would do. That's a conflict he'll bring into next season, but Sam decides to love him anyway. Sam tries so hard to hold onto the world outside of Dean but he ends up succumbing. By the end of the season, they’ve accepted that they're the most important things to each other.

John’s role is crucial to Sam and Dean’s relationship

Sam wants to belong and to be his own person. John is the force dictating his life before he leaves, so he has to get away from John. It’s not possible for Sam to grow up without breaking from his dad.

John gives bundled baby Sammy to Dean the night of the fire and that’s pretty much the way their relationships with each other form. John has handed Sam off to Dean. They hold conflicting positions in Sam’s life. 

John is a larger-than-life god-like figure to Dean. He’s distant and he has all the answers and all the power and his word is law, and Dean’s contract with him is to Take Care of Sam. So Dean serves this purpose under John’s rule until they reach a point at which Dean can’t take care of Sam without breaking from John and growing up. That rupture came to a head when Sam left for Stanford and Dean takes his first steps toward replacing John when John goes missing, by going to Sam. Dean makes the first move after years have passed to reconnect, something not even John would do.

Sam and Dean are fighting against getting close again for different reasons

Sam wishes he could have a normal life. A normal life is by necessity also a life distant from Dean. In the first episode, when Dean drops Sam off at Stanford and tells him they made a pretty good team, Sam looks conflicted and chokes out a “yeah” before watching Dean drive away. He knows they make a good team, that’s not the problem. Throughout this season, he is at war with wanting to be with Dean vs wanting to be normal.

From the very first episode and throughout the entire season, it’s obvious that they were very close before Sam left. They make each other angry and they make each other laugh and they communicate just by looking at each other- strategizing and seeking each other’s opinions and assessing each other’s needs in glances. They instantly fold back into each other’s lives, they save each other over and over. They gravitate toward each other and walk in sync and stand in each other’s spaces. There’s this sense that they know one another, not just better than anyone else, but better than anyone could ever possibly know them. It's clear to the viewer that they're matching puzzle pieces.

And I don’t think Sam’s conflict is actually about hunting versus normal at all. Sam rediscovers his love and aptitude for hunting right away. He feels fulfilled, admires Dean, and enjoys himself much of the time. In “It’s a Terrible Life” (s4) he still asks Dean to run away with him and be hunters together in an alternate universe. So his conflict centers on John and Dean. 

At this point Sam thinks Dean sided with John and abandoned him when he stopped hunting. But it’s more than feeling hurt and abandoned by Dean- Sam literally cannot have both Dean and a life. Dean is all-consuming. Sam could get the things he needs from Dean- belonging and respect- if it weren’t for two things: 1, Dean is still unwilling to break from John in a way that matters and 2, the way that they love each other is so abnormal it feels impossible.

Sam is unwilling to put Dean above everything else because it is in fact a dichotomy- Dean is bigger than just a brother, he can’t fit into Sam’s life as just another part of it. Sam knows that. 

Dean’s conflicts mirror Sam’s. Sometimes he resents hunting and wishes his life could’ve been normal. He faces the same dichotomy- once he becomes more independent from John, he can either have a family and home of his own or he can have Sam, and he hates himself partly because what he wants more is Sam. He knows that's not normal and thinks a part of Sam hates him for it. One reason their connection is so fraught with guilt and shame is because it's sexual/psychosexual, which is why I personally tag everything wincest. The way sexual and romantic relationships are so often a blatant point of conflict between them, the way their scenes are often shot like sex scenes, the jealousy and possessiveness, the way they touch each other, the fact that they see each other as desirable. It all points to a love complicated by sex. I have no problem with the idea of them as platonic soulmates, but I honestly think the text supports just straight-up wincest.

And actually they're not soulmates

They're twin flames. The idea that they're soulmates comes in later, but I think it's more precise and also more useful to the narrative to understand them as twin flames.

Twin flames are one soul split into two people, and their purpose is to cause one another to grow and be challenged by their connection. They're halves and also mirrors. That's why their dynamic is so often this push-pull, why their connection is so palpable, why they find each other in every universe and why they know each other so impossibly deeply. Narratively, one is often pursuing the other and they tend to push each other to the deepest depths of highs and lows. They separate, but they always come back to each other.

[obxsummer]

I Fall Apart // Ghost of You

navigation -- series masterlist

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summary: jj gets to mack on his girl, sarah's got topper whipped, john b and his dad are MIA, and y/n's reminded just how reckless her boyfriend can be

warnings: s3 spoilers, accidents, panic attacks, shitty parenting as per usual

--

The first thing you did was shove JJ into the shower. The next was handling getting the electricity back on since clearly your father wasn’t concerned with doing that. You were fine with not tagging along with their treasure hunting, but you were worried about your brother. He loved your dad, adored him for so much of his life, and it concerned you that he wouldn’t see what a pawn he was in your dad’s plans. 

You had told JJ as much as you sat in the bathroom on the floor while he showered. You told him about Singh’s place, about Rafe, and how your dad sent you guys on a goose chase for a rock. JJ couldn’t say he was surprised, about any of it, but he was just glad to be back with you. 

Soon enough, Sarah and Kie were on your doorstep, the four of you crowding out by the dock to get the last of the warm sun on you before turning in for the night. 

“I went back to grab clothes and a phone, and you’re not gonna believe this,” Sarah started as she sat down next to you. “Rafe is back. I saw him at the house. I don’t think he saw me, but I think the cross is coming back to Wilmington tomorrow night.”

You sat up from where you were leaning against JJ’s chest to face her. “What?”

“Does Pope know?” Kie asked.

Sarah shook her head. “No, I was gonna tell him when I found you guys.”

“He can’t, he’s on lockdown.” You expected everyone to take some time away, and connect with their families before coming back to figure out the next steps. 

Sarah sighed, “Okay, well. Kie and I can hit up Pope and you guys tell John B when you see him?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” You gave them both a small smile as they said their goodbyes and walked back up the dock. 

You and JJ sat silently, taking in the warmth on your skin before the sun disappeared for the night. You really wished your brother would come home or at least check in to make sure he was okay. Sarah had found a spare iPhone charger to give you for the phone you guys had taken from Barbados. You made sure any tracking services were off so Singh couldn’t try and chase you down. 

“Well if the cross is coming back, it’s still on the field. We’re still in this, we can come in and swoop. We gotta get everybody together and come up with a plan,” JJ rattled off as his fingers tapped excitedly against your thighs. 

You took a deep breath and grabbed JJ’s hands to hold in your own. You were thankful for the last chance opportunity to get the cross back, but you didn’t want to risk running into Rafe or getting your friends into the line of trouble again. 

“Talk to me,” JJ held out the word, swinging your hands back and forth before wrapping around your waist tightly to hold you. “C’mon.”

A small smile formed on your face, so grateful for a boy who could read you so easily, who could love you so easily. You laughed as he left wet kisses against your shoulders into the curve of your neck to get you to talk. “Okay, okay.” He pressed one more to your temple for good measure. “I’m just worried about John B. That’s all.”

“He’s with your dad, Y/N. I’m sure he’s perfectly fine.”

You kept your grip on JJ’s hand and brought it up to your lips to kiss the back of it. “That’s exactly why I’m worried about him. My dad is way too deep in this treasure hunt to realize he’s putting his own kids at risk, and John B will just let him because he doesn’t want to disappoint him.”

“He didn’t seem too upset when you said you didn’t wanna go,” JJ tried to reason.

You shook your head. “That’s because he doesn’t have any disappointment left when it comes to me. I know he doesn’t care if I’m there or not. That’s how it’s always been. Him and John B against the world. I was just the backup piece.” You took a deep, shaky breath. “Your dad takes the prize for Shittiest Dad but I think mine might be a close second.”

JJ laughed at the idea. “Well, Ward Cameron might take second but I get what you mean. And it may be hard, but I don’t want you to think what your dad says represents the truth about you. You’re my number one, no matter what.”

You mumbled a small thank you, adjusting further into his grip as if there was any room to. God knows what you’d do without JJ.

"We have the whole house to ourselves?"

"Jesus Christ, JJ!"

--

Your group met back up the next afternoon to figure out what the plan was to get the cross back. You still hadn’t heard anything from John B, Sarah claiming the same. The six of you crowded around a small table with the sun beating down on you. The ferry ride to Wilmington wouldn’t take too long so you could bear the heat for the time being.

“Honestly, the hardest part is gonna be security, alright?” JJ was running everyone through the steps of what would need to go down. “So most of the guys are gonna be at the rail yard.”

“Right, so we’re going to need to find someplace and guard it, maybe a little further down the line, like a whistle-stop or something,” Pope theorized.

“You guys are getting ahead of yourselves per usual,” Cleo interrupted, “We don’t have a way to transport the cross. What did you think? On JJ’s motorcycle?”

Your boyfriend grunted behind you and pulled his hat off. “That’s not my fault.”

“Okay, so other options-”

“Oh, my God.” You all stopped conversing at Sarah’s sudden outburst, watching as she sat up stiffly next to you. You moved instantly, Kie and Pope doing the same to see where her gaze had been to come up with Topper Thornton.

“Why…is he everywhere?” Kiara asked as she turned back around. 

Pope, however, was on a different thought process. “Perfect. Hey, Jayj. I bet you Topper has a way to transport the cross.”

Your boyfriend shrugged at the suspicion. “Actually, Pope’s right. He does have a rig.”

“No.” Sarah instantly declined. 

“Yes,” JJ clapped right back.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on,” JJ pestered, “Sarah, you already got him whipped anyway, alright? So, why don’t you just take one for the team?”

The blonde was not happy with the suggestion. “What would John B say?”

You tilted your head in consideration. “Eh, I think John B would completely understand. It is about the treasure.” You caught her defeated look and leaned over to place your hand on hers. “If you really don’t want to, it’s okay. You don’t have to. But, I think if you just talk to him, he may be willing.”

Sarah let out a deep breath before mumbling an agreement and getting to her feet. The five of you watched carefully, moving out of view so Topper couldn’t see you directly. You hated the idea of Sarah feeling uncomfortable with this but you knew she could handle it. After a few moments of back and forth, she suddenly gave Topper a big hug which signaled an agreement in your eyes. Your friends silently cheered around you, giving her a thumbs up when she made eye contact. 

Maybe y’all had a chance at this after all.

--

It was dark out by the time you guys hit the train yard, managing to situate yourself on top of one of the cars so you could survey everything around you.

“Well, there’s like a thousand trains here.”

“We know it’s car 750X on the track to Raleigh, so now we just gotta find it.”

You scanned the area in front of you. “Well, news flash, guys. We’re not getting out of here unnoticed with a giant cross.”

“We don’t have to,” Pope said, “We can nab it somewhere further in the country. Just gotta figure out how to stop the train.”

“Leave that to me,” JJ interrupted everyone’s thought process. You stared at him, waiting for further explanation. “I got an uncle up in New Bern, right? When he got tipsy, he’d just throw an old chain across the tracks for shits and giggles. And that old little chain would stop all the train traffic in Coastal Carolina.”

Kie looked at him incredulously. “A chain?”

“He’s actually right,” Pope confirmed, “There’s a low voltage current that runs across all rail tracks. You throw a chain on it, you close that circuit. It would read as another train. Crossing lights come down. Science is actually pretty sound.”

JJ clapped his hands together and gave you a small nudge. “Science, babe. I knew my science.”

“Well, babe, we don’t have a chain,” You reminded him. 

“No, but I bet Topper’s dad has jumper cables in the truck,” Sarah pointed out, “Would that work?”

Pope nodded as Topper started yelling from behind your group, remaining on the ground. “What’s going on? Are we doing this or not?”

“Alright, you all wait here. Me and Pope will go look for it and send a signal once we find it,” Cleo said.

Sarah glanced between the six of you with a smile on her face. “Do we actually have a plan right now?”

“Think we do.”

“For once in our lives.”

“Let’s not jinx it, come on.”

Pope and Cleo began to climb down off the train car to search further for the specific area you’d need. You, Kie, JJ, and Sarah remained in place and decided to sit until something came up. After a moment, you laid back against the cool material of the container you were on, grateful for the temperature. 

“Has anyone heard from John B?” Kiara asked after a moment of waiting. 

You groaned and rubbed your hands over your face before letting them flop by your sides. “Nope. Hasta la vista, JB.”

“He left a note at the Chateau that he was going with Big John, but hasn’t come back since,” JJ explained further as he leaned back against his hands. “I’m sure they’re fine wherever they’re at.”

Silence took over, all of you waiting eagerly for a sign from Cleo and Pope. Eventually, a flashlight hit your vision, all of you popping up to see Pope on the ladder, calling you over. 

“That’s it!” JJ reached out a hand to pull you up just as a train horn blared.

“What’s happening?” Kiara asked as if you guys weren’t surrounded by trains that could take off at any moment.

You watched as Pope got shifted around before you realized it was the train you needed taking off. “Shit, it’s moving. We gotta go.”

The four of you clambered down the ladder as fast as possible and over to Topper’s truck. He looked extremely unamused by being dragged into this. 

“Oh, hey Sarah.”

“Do you have jumper cables in there?” Sarah ignored his sarcasm and got straight to the point. 

“Here I am involved in illegal activities-”

“Not that illegal.

“I’m not even close to being okay with this.”

Sarah cut him off by slamming the door shut. She had a set of cables in her hand and quickly handed them off to you. “Topper, if you don’t wanna go, it’s fine. We’ll take the truck.”

“Hey, I just wanna make sure everyone here is okay with ending up in federal prison,” Topper directed towards all of you. 

JJ bit back a laugh and swung his leg over the seat of his bike, reaching his hand out to help you do the same. “Uh, if it gets to that, yeah. I’ll do it for Pope.” You gave him a soft smile and wrapped your arms around his torso, making sure the jumper cables weren’t at risk of falling.

You guys didn’t waste a second after that, JJ taking the lead while Kie, Sarah, and Topper followed in the truck. Usually, you weren’t a huge fan of JJ and the bike, but you’d grown used to it in the time you’d been together. Granted, he drove way safer with you on the back than when he was by himself, but still.

You winced as he took a corner a little too sharp, your grip tightening out of fear of falling. You didn’t go much further before JJ pulled off into a grassy patch next to the road that intersected with the tracks.

“This should be far enough.” You made it a whopping three steps before JJ tripped over nothing into the dirt below. He groaned and got back to his feet, sparing the glance to see you laughing at him. “I meant for that.”

You hummed, “Sure you did, babe. Let’s go.”

The plan was simple - use the jumper cables to reverse the charge so the train would have to stop, hopefully leaving enough time for you guys to unload the cross and get out of here. JJ connected one of the cables to the crossing lights before placing the other two on the tracks. 

“Okay, now all you have to do is change the current,” He scrambled around to get everything in the right order. He was moving quickly, his brain processing faster than he thought it ever could

You looked behind you, the horn of the train getting louder by the second which didn’t help your nerves. “Please don’t get electrocuted.”

“Yeah, no promises with that.” He placed the red cable on first before clamping the black one next. The two of you looked up at the signal, anticipating the lights to change to red, but they continued to flicker green. 

“Why isn’t it changing?”

“That’s literally what he would do. He would do it, and-and then it would change to red. Oh my god.” JJ started pacing in frustration as the train continued to near. “Think think think. Okay, what if I blockaded the track?”

“Jayj, no.” You crouched down by the cables, giving him a look. “How about moving the cable because the train touches both sides of the track, hmm?” You switched the red cable over to the other side before standing up. JJ’s fingers curled around your wrist in anticipation as you stared up at the crossing lights. They blinked green for another few seconds before switching to a solid red. 

The two of you cheered at the color change, JJ reaching for a high five before pulling you into him for a hug. “You’re a genius.”

“Nope, it’s all you.” You kissed his cheek quickly before grabbing his hand and tugging for the two of you to duck by some nearby trees. “We gotta hide.”

It didn’t take long for the train’s brakes to kick in and start slowing down. JJ let out a small ‘yay’ once it finally stopped in front of you, hopefully giving Cleo and Pope a chance to climb off. The excitement was short-lived, however, when a service truck pulled up next to you on the main road.

“Shit, back up, back up.” JJ tugged the back of your shirt, moving the two of you further into the tree line so you weren’t in view. “This was not part of the plan!”

Two workers climbed out of the truck and started surveying the area for the possible cause. “What is this bullshit?” It didn’t take long for them to find the jumper cables attached to the tracks, both you and JJ mumbling curses when they did. They were quick to remove the cables so the crossing lights turned green.

“You’re all set over here. Some asshole put jumper cables on the tracks.”

You turned to JJ as the workers climbed back in the truck, fearful that they wouldn’t have made it. “You think that gave them enough time?” The answer to your question came in the form of the train honking that it would start moving again. “We gotta go get them.”

“There goes the plan, come on!” JJ offered his hand to get you off the ground, the two of you sprinting back to his bike. The engine kicked to life beneath you just as a familiar pickup truck came flying around the corner with a large crate in the back. “That’s Top. And that’s the cross. Get on!”

You didn’t hesitate to climb behind him, arms looped around his waist tightly before he took off behind your friends. The sound of police sirens followed not too long after, the blue lights eventually finding you before you would’ve liked.

“J!” You placed your forehead between his shoulder blades, suddenly terrified about what would come next. He was moving a little too fast for your liking, but you could tell he was trying to keep up with Topper.

“I know, I know!”

The bike moved faster beneath you, JJ guiding it to ride alongside Topper’s truck. You glanced over to see Cleo and Pope in the bed of the truck, staring right back at you. “What the hell are you doing?” Pope yelled at your boyfriend.

“Get ready to jump,” JJ yelled back at you, his eyes not leaving the road. “Top, keep going straight!”

“What?” You gaped at him, not that he could see you. Pope let out an expression of equal shock, the two of you in disbelief that JJ would actually suggest this. “Are you insane?”

“Probably,” Your boyfriend replied back, fully serious about what he was telling you to do. “Get ready to jump!”

Pope reached out towards you, Cleo right behind him as they leaned by the side of the truck bed. “Come on, come on. I’ve got you!”

You took a deep breath, slowly letting go of JJ’s waist to grab Pope’s outstretched hand. You did your best to keep JJ balanced while stepping off, your hand lingering on his shoulder until you rolled on top of the wooden crate the cross was in. 

“JJ!” You screamed the second you got adjusted and watched him slow down to place himself between the truck and the oncoming cop car.

Cleo’s hand guided you into the gap between the crate and the back of Topper’s truck, all of them asking if you were okay. You barely answered, eyes trained on JJ’s form as he slammed on the brakes, using his momentum to pop a wheelie and change directions. 

“What’s he gonna do?” Cleo looked at you as if you had the answer.

“I don’t know,” You choked out, “I don’t think he knows either.”

JJ moved forward slightly to pick something off the ground before gunning it full speed towards the cruiser. 

“Topper!” You yelled as you watched JJ slam the rock into the cop’s windshield. The police didn’t hesitate to yank the car around to follow him instead. “We have to go back!”

“Stop the truck!” Pope and Cleo copied your idea, yelling into the small window that accessed the main cabin. You watched until you lost sight of JJ to the darkness of the night. Topper slowed down a second later. The pit in your stomach grew as he turned the truck around, racing back in the direction JJ was going in. 

“Turn left!” Pope called out as a service road came up.

You could vaguely hear Sarah and Topper arguing before he listened to the change of direction. Your eyes caught sight of JJ on the road running parallel, the cops directly behind him. Your chest was aching as you watched, unable to look away no matter how much you wanted to. 

Pope called out more directions for Topper, the noises turning blurry around you. Cleo’s hands latched on your shoulders, pulling you into her so you had someone to lean onto. You struggled to get air in your lungs with every inch of your body in panic mode. 

You watched carefully as JJ pulled onto the overpass you were about to go under. There was a bright flash of light and the sound of a car horn before a loud screeching noise took over your senses. You could feel the truck slide beneath you, suddenly horizontal on the road.

You moved before your brain even had a chance to process what happened. “Pope, go!” Legs aching as you jumped from the tailgate, the first thing you noticed was JJ’s bike in a tangled mess just inches away from where Topper’s truck had stopped. 

“JJ!” Your throat burned from the force of your scream as you tried to find any sign of him. There was busted concrete under your feet, but nothing that indicated he was even down here. “JJ, answer me! Where is he?”

Your friends descended into panic behind you, yelling out for your boyfriend. Sarah’s arms caught you the second you wavered, both of you hitting the ground harshly. You fought to get air into your lungs as you continued to look for JJ. 

“Maybe he’s up on the bridge?”

“No, no, no,” You gasped for air, Sarah’s hands forcing you to put your head between your legs in an attempt to avoid you passing out. Tears burned in your eyes as you realized that was very much a crash he wouldn’t survive. “Fuck.”

The world blurred for a moment, your body numb as you tried to breathe through the panic attack. It was always so much worse when it involved JJ and any harm coming to him. You shifted, legs digging into the concrete below you as Sarah rubbed your back and tried to talk you through it.

“I wish I could say I did that on purpose, but that was the gnarliest powerslide I’ve ever done.”

The second you registered the voice behind you, air flooded your lungs as you coughed aggressively. Your head snapped up, Sarah moving to get on her feet as you turned, not trusting yourself to stand yet. God damn this boy for being so reckless.

Pope reacted first and slammed into JJ forcefully, “You’re alive!”

“Shit, that was gnarly!” Topper himself was even surprised at the sight he witnessed.

“That was trucking, dude,” JJ attempted to compliment the Kook back before he was getting attacked by Sarah Cameron’s hands against his chest. “Oh, Jesus. Oh, God.” She didn’t hesitate to bring him into a bone-crushing hug, chastising him for being so dangerous. 

You stared up at your boyfriend, unable to move as you watched your friends rejoice at his presence. Moments like this were Earth-shattering to you and took a while to get through. You couldn’t brush off near-death experiences like you used to. 

“As nice as these pleasantries are, we really need to move.”

Sarah reached over to you, hands pulling you off the ground to a shaky stance. JJ was there in a second, his hands replacing your best friend’s as he grasped your elbows to keep you steady. You stared right into his eyes, knowing your own were teary. You could’ve slapped him. “Don’t… don’t you ever do that again. You hear me?”

JJ pulled his lips in tightly and gave you a nod, knowing he had no room to argue. You collided with his chest a second later, a heavy sob finally making its way out as you clung to him. JJ let out a sigh, the adrenaline slowly seeping from his body as he held you against him. 

“Hey! Hey, you kids, don’t move!”

JJ was grabbing your hand the split second a flashlight ran across the two of you, practically sprinting to the truck. He lifted you into the back seat next to Kiara before climbing into the bed of the truck with Pope, telling Topper to go. 

You tucked your legs up onto the seat to curl into a ball, knowing the pressure was the only way to get your racing heart to calm down. Usually, this is where JJ would happily hug you senselessly, but you didn’t have time to resort to that. 

“Hey, hey. You okay?” Kiara’s hand was cold on your leg, grounding. 

You let a deep breath out between your lips, head leaning against the headrest as you forced a nod. “Yeah. Just gotta…gotta breathe through it.”

Sometimes it felt so silly to deal with your anxiety like this, like you were looking for constant attention and reassurance. Not that you could help it, but you wish it didn’t have to be this way. You wish losing your friends wasn’t such a big fear of yours, wasn’t a possible reality. 

You filtered out the yelling that started between your friends and Topper. There was no doubt the cops were set to catch up to you. You didn’t really care how fast Topper was driving the truck, but evidently, everyone surrounding you did. 

Suddenly, the vehicle hit a large bump in the road causing the wooden crate to fly from the back of the truck. Topper screeched to a stop just before everyone flew out of their various positions to check on it. 

You opened your own door to meet them on the road as Pope tossed the top off to check on the cross. To your luck, it was filled with multiple tires full of concrete. 

“What the hell?”

“It’s fake.”

Pope leaned down to inspect it. “It’s all freaking fake.”

“Pope, I’m so sorry,” Sarah apologized solemnly. 

You sighed, knowing all of your efforts were in vain for the Heyward’s heirloom. The sound of police sirens started getting louder, which mean you needed to get back on the move. 

“Y’all hear that? Okay, I can’t be here. My grandfather’s a judge.”

“Dog, would you relax?” JJ tried to get Topper to chill out. “They’re not gonna think some dude in flip-flops is part of a robbery.”

You took one last look, reassuring Pope that it would be okay before climbing back into Topper’s truck to get the hell out of there and go home.

--

You were exhausted by the time you guys got off the ferry. The group had practically pulled an all-nighter with the nonstop running and you were fully prepared to sleep the day away. Topper was kind enough to drop you all off at the Chateau, an awkward conversation forming between him and Sarah before you caught sight of the Twinkie in the yard. 

“John B!” You took off running as your brother walked out of the screen door with a beer in hand. He very clearly didn’t expect you to come at him full speed and the drink almost slipped from his hands when you ran into him. “You’re okay.”

He stayed silent but returned the hug, making you look up at him. It was obvious to anyone that he looked exhausted. He shook his head and let you go. “You were right.”

You didn’t dare ask him to explain at the moment, not that it would’ve been possible since your father stepped out of the Chateau a second later. Your friends lost their shit, Pope and Kiara letting out bursts of excitement to see him. JJ even embraced him a second time, jumping on his back just like he would do when you guys were kids. 

Everyone gave a quick recap of your time in Wilmington before John B explained the treasure hunt he went on with your dad to Charleston. “Yeah, yeah. So, we um, we went to the archives in Charleston, and, uh, it was a dead end. A dry hole. So.”

The tone of his voice was enough to tell you he was lying. You were sure your friends could pick up on it too, all of you knowing each other well enough to tell easily. Pope counted on his fingers. “So that’s the gold, the cross, and now El Dorado. We’re three for three, guys.”

You watched your dad give a subtle nod to your brother, Sarah catching it too as she glanced at him before her eyes moved to you. Why John B was lying to all of you, you had no idea. There was no doubt in your mind that it was your dad’s bidding, though.

Pope threw his beer can wildly, letting out a sarcastic cheer. “The streak continues. That’s great.”

Kie and Cleo were quick to follow him away from the house, calling out goodbyes as they passed. JJ was the next to get on his feet. “I’m going fishing. Thanks for the beer.”

You moved with him to stop him short of leaving. It would be a lie if you said you were comfortable with him walking away from you, especially with how the last few hours had been in terms of safety. “J, you sure you’re okay?”

You could tell he was forcing the smile on his face as he nodded. “I’m good, babe. Promise. Just wanna go clear my head for a few.”

“I’ll be here, okay? Come get me,” You didn’t specify for what, leaving the reason in the air. If he needed you, you’d be there, no matter what. JJ nodded and gave you a soft kiss before turning on his heels and walking away from you. “I love you!”

He paused in his exit to look back at you. “I love you more.” 

JJ was one of those people who just needed space to process. You totally understood, giving it to him when he asked, but it always made you iffy that he was lying to himself. He shouldered a lot of your burden because you were comfortable sharing that with him. He wasn’t like that and dealt with it on his own. You always reminded him you would be happy to listen to anything he said, so the offer was always there.

Turning around, you could tell Sarah had the same hints about something being off based on the way she was speaking to John B. You let out a sigh and made your way inside to hopefully escape all the tension lingering. The screen door slammed a moment after you were inside. You turned to see your brother following you, his jaw clenched, whole body tense.

“Hey,” You whispered in case he didn’t want to talk about it. John B met you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter opposite you. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but I think I know the answer.”

“Um, we’re leaving, again.” You weren’t surprised by his words and merely nodded in return. What you didn’t expect was for your brother to step closer with shiny eyes full of tears. “What you heard out there, it was all a lie. We found the other piece to the idol. And-and Dad gave Limbrey some fake shroud so she could walk again, and I cannot keep lying to them, Y/N!” His voice cracked on your name. There was no point in saying that you saw this coming from a million miles away.

“It’s okay, JB.” You moved forward to pull him into a hug as he let out a few deep breaths. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll figure everything out. Just, be careful, okay?”

John B was quick to agree, recomposing himself before giving you a goodbye and leaving to get in the Twinkie. You were left with the mess on your hands, stuck in the middle of your brother and your friends, just hoping things could hold on a little longer until you could find a way to fix everything.

--

You kept to yourself the rest of the day, taking the time to catch up on some much-needed rest and attempting to clean up the house to the best of your ability. You knew at some point shit would hit the fan again so you didn’t mind the downtime on your hands. This felt normal to you - to be home by yourself with everyone out on their own adventures. This was how everything was before your dad went missing, before you were thrown headfirst into taking care of yourself and your brother. 

Eventually, the silence got to be too much and you found yourself on the path to JJ’s house in hopes to find him there. Evidently, your brother had the same idea. The Twinkie was already in sight as you walked through the grass to where you caught a view of your brother and JJ. Your boyfriend was sitting on the rotting wooden steps that led up to the patio, John B standing near the driver’s door of the van.

They both looked at you once you were close enough that they could hear your footsteps. JJ let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked back at John B. “Does she know?”

You seemed to take everything in at that moment. Your dad was nowhere to be found and if you had a say, John B looked a little worse for wear. JJ patted the spot next to him so your brother would sit and hesitantly, John B did as he asked. You stood a few feet away from them as your boyfriend rubbed his face stressfully. 

“I don’t know what to do, JJ.” John B’s voice was almost inaudible. “How the hell do we get to South America?”

“No clue…but, we’re gonna figure it out. We always do.” You watched the two of them lean on each other, JJ’s arm wrapping around your brother’s shoulder. This was the John B and JJ you’d grown up with; two dumbasses where nothing mattered at the end of the day so long as they had each other. Their friendship had been poked, prodded, and pulled at over these past few months but here they were, proving all your doubts wrong. 

“So. Is someone gonna tell me what the hell is going on or am I just gonna have to figure it out for myself?”

--

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Somewhere Between Hello and Goodbye | Ch. 2: It Was All a Dream, I Promise

a/n: Writing that has been italicized + highlighted blue represents past memories or dreams, while writing that is italicized + bolded is a letter.

Months have passed since I last saw Jungkook. From the day he was discharged till now, no one has heard from him or his family. No texts, no calls. Nothing. Even his academic advisor raised concern regarding his absence, and still, there was radio silence on the other side of the line. It’s as if he never existed in the first place. He left with the cold winter and never came back to see the blooming of the spring cherry blossoms. 

Naturally, the last three months have been nothing short of torture. Day after day, night after night, I prayed to God, prayed that he would bring Koo back to me. Every morning, I would call his number just to hear his voicemail greeting, the one we crafted together during our late-night run to 7/11. 

“Hello, you've reached Jungkook’s voicemail. Please don't leave a message unless you're Mira,” Jungkook says confidently, scrunching his nose at the way my eyes widened from disbelief. 

“Koo!? You have to take this seriously. What if an employer calls you?” I exclaim, gaze softened at the sight of his bunny teeth on full display. 

“I'm sure they'll be able to tell if they're you or not,” he grins, taking a sip of his strawberry milk before pulling my chair closer to him, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. 

My eyes swell with tears reminiscing our memories. It pains me to think of the possibility that he might not even remember me. I'm not sure how long, if at all, I'd be able to last in a universe where Jungkook sees me as a stranger again. After all we've been through, man, that would hurt immensely. Nonetheless, I hold on to the hope that he is not alone. Surrounded by his loved ones, I hope Koo is resting in peace, at ease. This wish, however, has yet to overcome the aching feeling in my chest, my desire to hold him in my embrace. To be close to him once again. To tell him how much I love him. 

“Mira? Miraya, honey, can you hear me?” my mom shouts through the phone. After all this time, she has yet to learn how to properly use Facetime. 

“Mommy, I'm looking at your ear. You have to turn the camera towards you, remember?” I giggle, eyes tearing up from the mere sound of her voice. I've missed her. I've missed my family. I wasn't able to go back home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, so it's been ages since I last saw them. Nonetheless, after trial and error, mostly error, I could finally see my mother’s beautiful face which was trying its hardest to hold back the built-up sadness. 

“My love,” she whispers, worried gaze searching my scattering eyes. 

“Miraya, what's wrong?” 

“Nothing, I just missed you guys so much,” I say softly, pulling my knees to my chest as my body sits crouched on the cold kitchen floor. 

“Just one more week, honey. Your dad is so excited, you don't even know. He has packed the fridge with your favorite food, and is holding it hostage till your arrival,” she chuckles, shaking her head at my dad's behaviour. 

“One more week,” I repeat, looking up at the picture of Koo and me on the fridge. The photo booth snapshots we took at the dumpling restaurant near the Oceana beach. I wonder if he kept his word. 

“Jungkook, what the heck?” I yelp, hitting his forearm. “I can’t show these to anyone now,” I point to the last photo, in which his face remained inches away from mine as my body froze behind his Iron Man hat. Compared to the previous three takes, this one clearly did not fit the friendly theme. 

“Why not? Nothing happened,” he grins, leaning his head back. 

“Nothing happened my ass, it's obviously suggestive,” I roll my eyes. 

“Let their imagination run wild then. I'm putting mine in my wallet, you can put yours on your bulletin board, I heard manifesting is a popular practice these days,” he chuckles teasingly, giving me a sly wink.  

“Oh, by the way, I sent you some clothes for when you arrive. It’s been raining here nonstop and I wasn’t sure if you packed good rain boots,” my mom’s voice brings me out of my daydream, as I nod my head accordingly. 

“Thank you, mommy. I’ll let you know when I receive them,” 

“No, they should have already been delivered. I got the notification today,” 

“Oh, okay, then I’ll check the mailbox right after our call,” I say with a soft smile. 

“Well, I’m not gonna take up any more of your time, I’m sure you’re busy with finals. Please, just confirm that you got the package,” my mom says, sending me a flying kiss as I wave her goodbye. 

“I love you, mommy,” 

“Love you more, Mira,” 

Putting my hair in a messy bun, I grab my keys and ID before heading out the door. I did in fact pack some rainboots upon my arrival to Korea, but didn’t have the heart to tell my mom that on the phone. Her smile was too contagious for that news. Anyways, who would pass on free clothes? So, I make my way down to the mail room before scanning the area for my number, 1289. 

“Okay, oop, jeez, how big were these boots?” I huff and puff from all the heavy lifting, before stumbling back on my tippy toes. Managing to finally open the box, my eyes widen from the amount of snacks my mom packed. You know, sometimes, I think my parents think that my university doesn’t provide food. As if I beg my neighbors for a cup of sugar each night. I can’t complain though, I really do appreciate the way they show their love and care. So, yes, I will be indulging in all of these before I leave. Locking my mailbox I get a better grip of the box before heading out, that is, until one of the front desk employees stops me. 

“Miss! You dropped something,” he points to the white envelope on the ground. 

“Oh, thank you,” I say with a soft smile before opening what seems like a letter. 

To Miss Jean,

Hello Mira, this is Mrs. Jeon. I apologize for not reaching out to you sooner, I’m sure you’ve been worried sick. But, I hope you can understand that we as a family needed to take some time to help Jungkook heal. He is doing well. Although, his memory, at least of last year has been completely wiped. It’s been a tough journey, but the fact that he regained his consciousness is truly a miracle on its own. We really thought we lost him. You have no idea how much I cried that day. For a mother, losing her child is worse than death itself. So, I thank God every day for his protection. 

With that being said, the reason I’m writing to you is regarding your relationship with Jungkook. Please don’t take this too personally, but I need you to cut all ties with him. When I received the phone call from the paramedics on site, they reported that he was found unconscious on the side of the road, holding onto a bloodstained picture of you guys. Now, I tried to remain as reasonable as possible, but he is my son and I would do anything to protect him. Even if that means coming in between you two. I’m not sure if you guys were dating or tied by any romantic relationship, but from the way he talked about you, the dots were relatively easy to connect. 

He doesn’t remember anything, Mira. He doesn’t remember you. In hindsight, maybe it's for the best. I truly hope that you will be able to understand and respect my decision. Don’t call, don’t write, don’t interact. Jungkook will be returning back to Seoul for the Fall semester, and I trust that you will follow the plan. If he initiates contact first, try your best to avoid it at all costs. Just please, don’t make me worry about him again.  

Feeling my throat tighten, my chest heaves up from the sudden flow of emotions. What is going on? What did I just read? Cut all ties? He doesn’t remember me? Did I just receive an ultimatum from Jungkook’s mom before ever meeting her? My eyes swelled with tears as I looked around, scanning the room for any sign of life that would confirm if this was real or just a bad, bad dream. 

“Miss, are you okay?” the man at the front desk asks gently, his smile slowly fading as my body drops to the floor. 

“I don’t know,” I whisper, before looking up at his worried expression. Feeling my eyes dissociate into the distance, there’s a trail of teardrops marking the wooden floor as the denial settles in. Don’t call … Don’t write … Don’t interact. 

- - 

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Toronto. It is currently 8 pm exactly and pouring cats and dogs outside. So, I hope you dressed appropriately. On behalf of the cabin crew, I would like to thank you for flying with Air Canada. Enjoy the rest of your day!” the pilot's voice mumbles through the speakers as the sound of safety belts being unbuckled fills the tight space. 

Mom was right, Mother Nature seems to not be too happy about something, because why is it thunderstorming? To be fair though, I love it when it rains. Something about its aftermath, specifically, the smell of wet cement the next morning just tickles my brain. 

Mira: Just landed! Will be out shortly ❤️

Mommy: Thank goodness, we can't wait to see you, my love!

Daddy: Miraya, honey, I'll be standing right by the doors to help with the luggage. 

Mino: I hope you packed lightly -_- 

Milo: Mira, did you get us anything? ;)

Having younger brothers is definitely an experience, but I can’t lie, I managed to miss them as well. And, as I rolled my suitcase down the exit, I could feel my heartbeat increase, palms getting sweaty from the nerves. Overwhelmed by the emotions, it takes only a glimpse of my father’s face for me to break down. With tears rolling down my flushed face, we pulled each other into a long embrace, as my mother’s hands caressed my dishevelled curls. Pressing a soft kiss on my forehead, she cups my face in her warm palms before searching my teary eyes. 

“My sweet, sweet girl,” she says softly, wiping my tears with her pink handkerchief, as my dad navigates us out of the airport to our car.  

The drive back home was rather sentimental. With every turn I caught myself reminiscing my childhood memories. The time I broke my wrist falling off the monkey bars in my elementary park, or the time my friends and I tried to sneak into a frat party dressed like those edgy college girls … you can imagine the outcome, I don’t even have to explain. 

“Peaches!” 

A faint voice brings me out of my dissociation as I snap my head towards my younger brother whose smile visibly fades from the intensity of my stare. 

“What?” Milo asks slowly, eyebrows furrowed from confusion. 

“What did you just say?” I scoff, a bit more harshly than initially intended. 

“Mommy asked what fruit she should use for her pie …” his words trail off into the car's ambience, as my eyes swell with tears. God, I miss Jungkook so much that I’m now hearing things. Surely, this isn’t healthy. 

“Sorry, I must have misheard you,” I try to subside the suspense with a soft smile before looking out the rainy window again. Feeling my throat slowly tighten, I try to shake away the thought that somewhere across the ocean, rests a soul whose heart no longer beats for me. 

“He doesn’t remember you, Mira,” Mrs. Jeon’s voice keeps replaying in my head as I bury my face deeper into the duvet, attempting to block the thoughts with my pillow. Unfortunately though, It’s not working as the haunting realization of our future, or rather, the lack of it, has already consumed my conscious mind. It’s not fair. I’ve lost him once and can’t bear to lose him again. Which, I guess … is exactly what Mrs. Jeon is feeling right now. 

“Ugh, Mira, shhhh. Please, just let me sleep,” I snap at my racing thoughts, turning aimlessly inside the soft sheets before feeling my body slowly give in to the fatigue as my vision goes pitch black. 

“Koo!” I call out his name as we run towards each other with open arms across a field of orange tiger lilies. 

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he says softly, lifting me in the air before we melt into each other’s embrace. Tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear, he caresses my cheek with the back of his palm before searching my teary eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks hushly, leaning closer as our lips rest inches apart. 

“Koo, please tell me that you remember me, that you remember us,” I cry out, placing my hands on his warm chest. 

“Of course, I do Peaches. What are you saying?” Jungkook’s voice is soft but full of worry as he moves my hand to his heart. 

“You lost your memory. Your mom said you don’t remember anything. Nothing,” 

“Mira, baby, please don’t cry. It was all a dream, I promise,” he says with a gentle smile, before wiping the tears off my face, resting his forehead on mine.

“It’s you and me, till my heart stops beating,” 

His words fade into the distance before I’m awakened by the feeling of sheer distress. Chest heaving up, there’s sweat dripping down my face as I reach for my journal on the nightstand. With shaky hands, I jot down the sudden overflow of my emotions in the form of a letter. 

Dear Koo, 

I saw you today and … it felt so real. Your embrace was warm, familiar and full of love. We were finally happy again. Except … it wasn't real, none of it was real. You promised it was all just a dream, but you lied. This … this is a nightmare.

Previous l Index l Next

[risquefanfics457]

Hi! If your requests are still open, would you be able to write Giorno x Shy!Fem!Reader where they’re childhood friends and Giorno gained feelings for reader over the years and wants to confess but doesn’t know how? Maybe reader feels the same way and wants to confess too?

Thanks!! :D

Did I spend 2 hours writing this because I got hyperfocused? Yes. Worth it? Yes.

Giorno and the reader are both 15 at the start and 18-19 by the end. ENJOY!

“Amica?” 

You knew that voice. It had Giorno all over it. Giorno and you had become friends when he moved next to you when your were both 4. He’d changed his name to Giorno, and you respected that, only his mom and step-dad called him Haruno, as he was known in Japan.

“Gio Gio?” You stepped out on the porch of the cafe you worked at, “What is-?” You stopped. Standing in front of you was Haruno Shiobana or Giorno Giovanna as he liked to be called but… blonde.

“Santa merda! Gio Gio, you’re blonde!”

“I know!” He threw his hands in front of him, “I woke up this way!”

You looked at him, gathering all the details you could. He was still the same boy. Same jade eyes, “What happened?”

“I woke up this way!” He waved his arms about, “Can we talk about this?” He pointed to his newly golden locks. It practically glowed in the sun, “Uh, I have a 15 minute break soon.” You stuttered.

“Okay, I’ll be here.” He wrung his hands and leaned awkwardly against the lamp post.

“Or you could come inside.” “I don’t have any cash on me.”

You chuckled, “I can still get you a water, on the house.”

He nodded, “Alright.”

You waved him in, “It’s not like anybody will recognise you anyway.”

“You did.” He said quietly

You blushed silently, “Be with you in a few.”

“So you woke up, and now you’re just blonde?”

“Yeah! Like my dad.” He whispers

“Whoa, you never talk about your dad.” You are even mor eintrigued now. Giorno had a peculiar picture in his wallet that he said was his biological father. The man in the picture was build strong and almost scarily so. But the defining trait Giorno knew was from that man was the star shaped birthmark on his upper shoulder. 

“I mean, I didn’t think this is what puberty did.” You teased, “What colour do you think my hair will turn?”

“Pink?” He laughed, “No, that a ridiculous colour.”

“Yeah, nobody in their right mind would have pink hair.” You laughed together.

“What would you even do if you met a dude with pink hair?”

“How should I know?” He laughed, “I’ve never seen one, and I doubt I ever will.”

“Well, you could grow it out.” You said

“I could, we could style it like those old magazines we used to read as kids.”

“I can see you in a braid.” You grin

“We’ll see.”

“Ehi! Y/N, back to work, I see you going 2 minutes over your break!”

“Gotta go.” You stand up, but Giorno stood as well, “Me as well, goodbye, Y/N.” He customarily kissed you on both cheeks, something you’d taught him a long time ago. Watching him leave, you went back to taking orders as you wished that you’d had the nerve to teach him a new kind of kiss.

A few weeks later, he stopped in again, “Amiga!”

“Hey, got money for an actual coffee this time?” You called down the stairs

“I do, but that’s not the point.” He climbed the cafe stairs to meet you, “I’ve figured it out.”

Him suddenly so close with that piercing gaze had you pull away, flushed pink. “What?” 

“I figured it out. The drug trade, everything.”

You looked quizzically at him, “You mean the mafia?”

He nodded, “I’m going to join them.”

You blinked. Wow, you’d lost it. Who knew serving 17 macchiatos in an hour would finally push your brain past its breaking pointt?

“Amiga?”

“Sorry, you lost me. What’s the plan?” You wiped down a table

“I’m going to become a gangstar.” 

You nodded, “See, I keep hearing you saying you want to join the mafia.” You shake your head.

“I did say that.” He tries to meet your eyes, “All the drug problems, the law being run by criminals, it can be solved, I can solve it.”

You couldn’t believe what you heard, “You’re 15.”

“I know. I need all the time I can get, I have to start early.” 

You put the cloth and spray down, “Tell me you’re kidding me.” You kept your voice low, you didn’t like catching attention of others.

“No, I’m finally going to do something about all this.” He took your hands in his and you noticed him stutter, “W-we grew up surrounded by people influenced by drugs, isn’t it time to do something about it?”

His change in demeanor prompted you to break out into a red blush. He wasn’t usually so… forward. It was different. You automatically sank back into your shell as red as a crab as other people stared. “Giorno, this is insane. You can’t join the mafia, it’s an early death sentence.”

“I get that, but things are different now.”

“But why you?” 

“Because kids like you and I deserved to have good childhoods.”

That struck a nerve, “Giorno, I want to talk about this more, but I need to stay focused on my job right now, I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

He took a deep breath and stepped away, ”Okay. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright, I’m just worried about you. I care, okay?”

“I know.” He smiles earnestly, “I love that about you.”

Before you had a chance to reply or even register what he said, he was gone.

You called him that afternoon. Nothing. You called him again later that night. Nothing. You called him the next morning. Same results. Life went on, agonizingly slow. A week went by. 

You should have just told him when you had the chance.

A month. 2 months. 4… 8… a year. You gave up after 3 years…

“Andrea, I need you to calm down. The report doesn’t have to be done until noon tomorrow. You have a full day and 3 hours to draft and finish it.” You spoke on the phone to a colleague. “Yes, I’ll be in on tomorrow… no, you don’t need me to proofread it, you’re an adult, you can scan your own emails for typos.” 

A knock came from the front door. “Andrea, take a breather and write when you’re ready.” You hang up. Why your co-workers who were 5 years your senior needed you to spellcheck was beyond you. The knock came again, whoever it was, they were impatient. You checked the glass and caught a glimpse of blonde, and your heart skipped a beat. You calmed yourself and opened the door. It wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. A man in a green suit was standing in the doorway, “Buongiorno signora.” 

That name. He had to say buongiorno. Of course giorno was a regular word, but it followed you everywhere, and you felt your heart flop sadly every single time you heard it. 

“What can I do for you?” You cross your arms.

“My name is Pannacota Fugo, my boss wishes to speak to you privately.”

You nod, “Okay, I’m guessing you’re from a law firm or something?”

“No, signora. I am from Passione.”

Despite the decrease in crime regarding the mafia, the word stung, it was the mafia group Giorno mentioned. God, if they were looking for Giorno… but they couldn’t even ask you, you had no idea where he went either.

“What about it?”

“You may know him.”

“I don’t know anybody from the mafia, I make it my business to stay clear of their business.” You go to close the door.

“I’d reconsider. The boss says he knows you personally. I’m here to take you to see him.”

You steeled your nerves, “I said no.”

It was a skill you were working on, you’d become better at not being so shy.

“Right. Well, Giorno sends his regards then.” Fugo says and goes to leave

“Giorno?” Your heart almost jumps out of your chest, “Giorno Giovanna?”

Fugo nodded.

“I’ll get my things.”

You pulled up the a house. It was lavish, even on the outside. 

“He’s inside.” Fugo holds the car door open for you. 

In just some clothes you’d thrown on, you climbed the steps to the house. You stopped at the door. Fugo followed you and nodded to some guards who opened the door.

“Where is he?” You asked the blonde man.

“On the left.”

You rounded a corner and on a chair in a large room was a man.

“Amiga?”

Your face flushed at the sound of his voice.

“Please, leave us.” The blonde man stood. He was just as handsome as he was before, but now, toned and his blonde hair was long and braided down his back. He wore all black. You stared dumbfounded at him.

“It was hard to find you, you changed jobs.” He chuckled. That laugh made a old shiver run down your back, one you’d thought you’d lost.

You stepped back and tripped over a chair behind you. Without missing a beat, he caught you. But that didn’t make sense, he was on the other side of the room. But something caught you. You caught your balance and eased yourself up, still in shock, “You’re… here.”

He nodded with a hint of pink on his cheeks, “Yeah, I’ve been here for a few years now.”

“You… you never came back.” Your face heated up.

“I’ve been getting a handle on crime before I brought you to me. I didn’t… I didn’t want you to be a target.”

“But you could have called.” 

“I’m always being watched, Amiga. Nothing was going to be a secret these past years.”

“You’re still calling me amiga.” You said.

“Well, I thought maybe we were still friends.” He sighed hopefully

“I, I don’t even know what to think. I… I hated you. I hated that you said nothing and left. But I missed you, and I still do…” You held your head in your hands, trying to name all these emotions running through you.

“I loved you.” You finished.

He looked wistfully at you, “Me too.” 

“Well, w-what now?”

“Well, it’s up to you. We can start over, or we can just, let this go. I’ll let you go back to how you’ve been.”

There was a long pause,

“I… I want to be near you, but this can’t have just… not happened. I think-”

“So we should start over?” He nodded

“Not from the beginning.” You got closer and touched his face, “I still know you, at least I think I do. I might not, but I want to.”

He leaned into your touch.

“I still know this face.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek. You chuckled, “To be honest, I dreamed of this face.”

“Really?” He chuckled pleasently, a sound that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter

“I face I wished I’d kissed.”

“You’ve kissed my face plenty of times. You’re the one who taught me to do it.” He smirked. A vine snuck around your wrist and a flower appeared in your palm.

“Then the face I wished I kissed in more than one way.” You leaned in. You pressed your lips to his left cheek, and then the right, and as the sun made the rose coloured curtains behind you project a pattern of pink on his face, you sealed the confession with a gentle kiss on his soft lips. His hand curled around your face and tucked your hair behind your ear, “I wish you showed me this was to kiss earlier too, Amiga.” He smiled.

“Yeah, if this is how it’s going to be from now on, I’m going to need to be something more than amiga.” 

His response was quick and sauve, “Then this is the greeting kiss you should expect from now on, cara mia.”

[lovelyflowers-world]

Remember Me

Angsty angst angst

Tw: mentions of death

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Remember me

A girl of only the age of four sat on a man's lap while he brushed her hair and sang her a small tune it's only safe to assume it was her father as things seemed happy and calm. Well they say there's calm before a storm

Though I have to say goodbye

As the man stood with the girls in his arms to set her back into bed she didn't know this would be the last time she'd ever see her sweet father. He laid her oh so gently onto her bed pulling the covers just under her chin he stroked her hair and kissed her head

"You know I'll always love you dearly my little flame"

The girl nodded her head with a big smile on her face she loved her father more than there was stars in the sky and nothing could have changed that

"I love you too!"

The man smiled sadly at his daughter knowing this would be the last he'd ever see her it pained the man to leave his princess all alone to not be able to see her grow to a beautiful young woman but it whats done is done.

"Good night my little flame I'll see you again soon"

The girl giggled at her fathers choice of words and wished him a good night and as the man shut her door he was brought to tears he was never an emotional man but this hurt him deep to his core knowing he'll never hold his dear flame close to his heart ever again

Don't let it make you cry

The next morning when the small girl couldn't find her dad and saw her mother looking at her in pity it clicked in her head that she'd never see her dearest father again

"daddy's gone..?"

Her voice crack and big eyes filled with tears brought her mother to her knees to hug her only daughter oh so tight

"(Y/n) I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!"

For even if I'm far away, I hold you in my heart

That was twelve years ago that little girl is now sixteen and a counselor at camp half blood one would think she despised her father but she could never blame him he was a god after all he wasn't going to stick around forever. Plus she had a pretty cool brother thanks to him

"(Y/n) get in your own bed!!"

"BUT I GOT A NIGHTMARE NICO!"

I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart

As (Y/n) laid on the floor quietly singing the song her father sang to her when she was small she sighed and looked out the window watching as everyone walked around happily conversing with one another a few passed waving to her and she gladly waved back.

Remember me

One would think the girl was happy with her life she had everything she could ever need but it seemed the lack of a father seemed to eat her alive she looked back into her cabin and sighed sadly

"Do you ever think of me dad?..probably not"

She got up and walked out with the biggest smile on her face and went to sword training.

Each time you hear a sad guitar

Now we see our protagonist alongside Percy Jackson and Nico di angelo fighting off a monster. The protagonist giving it her all to make sure her companions get out alive even if it cost her life. As she looked to check on her brother's state she felt a sharp pain in her gut and she looked down she saw the red seeping out her shirt. Just then her brother and Percy seemed to be celebrating their success.

"Guys.."

They looked over in time to see her fall to her knees the pain becoming unbearable

Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be

They run to her side pleading her to hold on a bit longer that they'd find a way to help her. They couldn't lose her not now when they've done their hardest when they were almost home. Tears were shed and she laughed and cupped her brothers cheek

"it's alright..I'll be with dad now I'll be okay.."

Just then a figure appeared over them towering and as they looked up he slowly took the girl out of the boys arms and held her close humming her a oh so familiar tune holding her head to his chest he nodded to the two boys and walked away

Until you're in my arms again

"It's time to go home now little flame"

The girl smiled and closed her eyes

"Okay daddy.."

And with that she took her final breaths

Remember me

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

A/N

heyyyyyyyy do you all still love me?

I love you guys <3

[moonlightspencie]

tricks up your sleeve

Part 2 of ‘the sweetest con’

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k

<- PART ONE

I twisted the ring on my finger, unsure why I still had it on, but not taking it off. It was something that used to mean so much: a lifetime commitment, love, a family. Now it was a flash of gold that served to feed my nervous habit.

Jack was due to go home at any moment. He was fast asleep, and it was everything in me not to wake him in order to soak in every moment. Instead, I watched his little eyelids flutter as he dreamed in my bed. He looked so tiny on such a large mattress. He was tiny. Too small to deal with visits to dad’s house once a week and parents who couldn’t be around one another. I rested my hand against the soft hair on top of his head and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Haley came to take him away five minutes later, giving me the cold shoulder entirely as she carried his sleeping form away. I wished more than anything that I could have given him a real goodbye, scared he would think that the time we spent together was just a long dream when he woke up in a different bed than the one he fell asleep in. Maybe one day he’d be able to forgive me for everything. I hoped he would.

The next phone call I got whisked me away to Florida. We were tracking down a killer who was going after college-aged women, doing things to them I didn’t think I’d ever be comfortable hearing. It made me sick every time, without fail.

It’s a lie to believe that it ever gets easier. It doesn’t. You just have to learn how to deal with a constant barrage of bad news.

I held the door for her as we walked into the house of the latest victim’s parents. She gave me a soft smile and a curt ‘thank you’ before slipping back into the persona she puts on to speak with others on the job. I let her take the lead, admiring the way she could break down walls so easily. Her voice was soft and sounded like silk as she spoke. She occasionally looked at me to give a word or two, though I much preferred to let her continue without my interruption. The family responded so well to her.

“That went surprisingly well,” she muttered under her breath as we walked back to the car.

“Of course it did. You always know what to say,” I noted, a tiny small pulling at my lips.

We got in the car, and she looked at me, unimpressed.

“You’re being such a suck-up. Remind me, who’s the head of the unit, again?” she asked, a cheeky smile on her face.

My own smile came through now, and I shook my head, pulling out onto the road.

“I’m trying to compliment you. Just take it.”

“You know I don’t take compliments well.”

“I know.”

“Then why do you insist on giving them?”

I sighed. She was so delightfully stubborn sometimes.

“Because you should hear it.”

“I disagree.”

“Disagree all you want. I know you secretly like it,” I said, glancing at her briefly out of the corner of my eye.

“You don’t know anything, Hotchner.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

She laughed, rolling down the window to see the trees and buildings pass us by as we drove along. It suddenly felt so silly and domestic. Her smile still stuck in place as she watched the city, and the radio playing low, a breeze seeping into the usually-stuffy vehicle.

“When was the last time you had a vacation?” she asked.

I hummed, thinking on my answer. It had been a long time, that’s for sure.

“A couple years since I had a real one. Little trips here and there, but I’m not sure those really count.”

“You deserve one. Like, a real vacation. Sitting by the pool and frying like a piece of bacon in the sun. I think that would suit you.”

“A sunburn?”

She laughed again. “No. Relaxation. You don’t get enough of that.”

“It would be nice.”

“Why don’t you take one? You deserve time off more than anyone.”

I shrugged. “Not sure being all alone right now would do me any good.”

“Oh,” she said, going quiet.

“That sounded really—“

“No! No,” she cut me off, almost panicked. “I get it. Maybe we can convince Strauss to let us stay an extra day next time we’re in a warm climate. Then you can hang out with the whole team and get some rest.”

“Does that count as a vacation?” I asked with a chuckle.

“Baby steps, Hotchner. We’ll work you up to a full-fledged one.”

“Right.”

Our time in Florida was short. We were lucky to catch our unsub quickly. Though it meant that, at least for the time being, the woman I was paired with for much of the case would be away from me again. She deserved time to herself, much like she tried to convince me I should have, but I couldn’t help but wish I could stick around her a little longer. It was probably selfish, maybe me slipping down a slope I couldn’t return from, but she made the slide down so comfortable.

I found myself in my bedroom, all alone, but feeling a little less lonely. As if on cue when I started feeling that familiar weight on my chest, she sent me a message.

- ‘I have the sneaking suspicion you’re still awake. If I’m right, please get some sleep. At least for my sake if you won’t do it for your own. I’m bringing you breakfast tomorrow morning and I don’t want to deal with a grumpy Hotch.

- Sweet dreams, boss man.’

I bit back a smile, setting my phone and the wedding band on my finger on the nightstand.

NEXT PART ->