#I was in a constant state of excited buzz and joy

[tea-with--honey]

Schmigadoon enthusiasts, please reblog this post with whether you preferred s1 or s2 and why 🙏 I've seen really mixed reactions and would love to know why the opinions seem to differ so greatly

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Eleven-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Sexual Aggression, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Slytherin!Boys, Weaponizing!EnzoBerkshire.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Friday morning arrived, but you found yourself ensnared by an unwelcome visitor: illness. Your usual vibrant energy was replaced by a lethargic heaviness, your throat scratchy, and your head pounding with each heartbeat. Emily's concerned eyes followed your every move at the breakfast table, her worried whispers barely audible above the hum of the Great Hall.

Thursday had been a disaster. Despite the guild meeting's anticipation, you couldn't summon an ounce of excitement. The prospect of seeing Tom, once a source of thrill and exciting opportunities, now felt like a daunting challenge. As you walked past him, you avoided his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed on the floor and not daring to converse with him outside of a few small shared words during the meeting. Ignoring him was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threatened to consume you.

Every fiber of your being wanted to be excited, but the illness, accompanied by the haunting words from Mattheo, had drained you of joy and left only a hollow emptiness. The guild meeting, once a highlight of your week, felt like a distant obligation. Your world had shifted, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty and discomfort, the very essence of your existence shaken by the turmoil within.

"Are you okay?" Emily's voice sliced through the quiet, laced with concern. "You look like you're about to faint."

"I'm just not feeling well," you replied, your voice barely audible above the buzz of the Great Hall.

The words that left your lips were somewhat true, but they were a mask over your real problems. A torrent of conflicting emotions churned within you, the chaos of Mattheo's unpredictable behavior warring with the complexities of your situation with Tom. Each thought pulled you in a different direction, leaving you in a state of internal turmoil that threatened to consume you whole. Despite your efforts to hide it, the storm inside your mind was evident in your eyes, a silent plea for understanding that you were desperate to keep hidden.

Emily's concerned expression softened into one of understanding, her eyes reflecting the depth of her friendship with you. She didn't press further, sensing the boundaries you had set. Instead, she offered you a gentle, reassuring smile.

"You've been working so hard," she said, softly. "You should cancel your tutoring tonight. You need a bloody night off--you're working yourself sick."

Internally, your turmoil grew. If only Emily knew the real reason behind your illness, the tangled web of secrets and emotions that threatened to suffocate you. The rule-breaking involvement with Mattheo weighed heavily on your conscience, a constant reminder of the dangerous path you were treading, one that was bound to explode at some point, one that was certain to bring your entire world crashing down with it when it did.

Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to confide in Emily, to burden her with the knowledge of your own reckless choices. The fear of judgment and the complexities of your feelings kept you silent, trapped in a cycle of self-imposed secrecy.

"I appreciate your concern, Emily," you replied, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I honestly think I might just do that...I'm going to tell him now."

Emily's face fell, her eyes widening with a mix of worry and disbelief. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words died on her lips. Before she could voice her concerns or attempt to hold you back, you were already rising from your seat, your determination etched on your face like a battle flag. With every step toward the Slytherin table, your gaze bored into Mattheo's disheveled appearance like a laser, an unspoken challenge burning in your eyes.

Your feet carried you forward with purpose, each step echoing your heartbeat which relentlessly thundered in your ears, drowning out the ambient sounds of the bustling Great Hall. The world around you blurred, the faces of your fellow students becoming mere smudges of colour as you zeroed in on Mattheo. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, urging you forward even as doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

As you drew closer, you realized the gravity of your decision, the precariousness of the situation you were about to confront, but in that moment, you knew you were already in too deep, you knew that there was no turning back.

"Riddle."

You uttered, your voice slicing through the air like a dagger. However, it was as if your words were swallowed by an invisible void; no one at the table even remotely acknowledging your presence.

"Riddle."

You repeated, your tone sharper this time. This caught Draco Malfoy's attention, his sharp, silver eyes locking onto yours with predatory amusement. His smirk, a cruel curve etched on his lips, seemed to mock your efforts. You shot him an eye roll, dismissing his silent taunts, but it only fueled his amusement, his head tilting slightly in enjoyment. Frustration simmered beneath your skin, a restless energy seeking an outlet. Exasperation surged through you, a tempest of emotions threatening to burst from within.

"Mattheo!"

You finally exclaimed, the name carrying the weight of your frustration and determination. The word hung in the air like a thunderclap, freezing everyone at the Slytherin table in their tracks. The effect was immediate and profound. It was as if you had tossed a live wire onto the table, sending shockwaves through the once-buzzing atmosphere.

A sudden, eerie silence descended upon the Slytherin table. The lively chatter ceased abruptly, and every single pair of eyes turned toward you with an intensity that bordered on disbelief. Berkshire, Zabini, Nott, Black, Malfoy, and Riddle, as well as a few unfamiliar faces, locked their gazes onto yours, each expression mirroring a different shade of astonishment--ranging in various raised eyebrows to widened, shocked eyes.

Before you had a chance to compose yourself, Berkshire, seated directly in front of you, sported a wide, contemptuous grin, his eyes gleaming with disdain.

"Well, well, look who's decided to grace us with her presence," Enzo sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. "Did you finally tire of your precious textbooks, sweetheart? Or are you just here to make a fool of yourself?"

Mattheo's eyes widened in mild astonishment, his usual mask of indifference momentarily slipping as he watched the scene unfold. His lips twitched, almost forming a smirk, but he remained silent, keenly observing the confrontation.

You straightened your back, your gaze unwavering as you met Enzo's sneer head-on. "I'm not here to entertain you, Enzo," you replied, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "But if you have nothing else to do besides insult people, maybe you should consider finding a hobby that doesn't involve being an insufferable prat."

The table fell into a stunned silence, the previous atmosphere of mockery dissipating like smoke in the wind. Enzo's sneer faltered, his expression contorting into a mixture of surprise and indignation.

Zabini raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. "Looks like this raven has some fuckin' claws...watch out boys..."

Nott stifled a laugh behind his hand, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. Black shot you an approving nod, wordlessly acknowledging your verbal victory, and even Malfoy, though still aloof, seemed intrigued by your bold response.

Mattheo's eyes, however, bore into yours with an unreadable intensity, a hint of something flickering beneath the surface--mixture of surprise, pride, and a touch of something more complicated. Enzo's face flushed with anger, his eyes narrowing into slits as he prepared a retort. However, before he could unleash his reply, Mattheo's voice sliced through the tension like a dagger.

"What do you want, Raven?" His tone was calm, collected, almost entirely unfazed.

Inhaling deeply, you mustered your courage and looked directly into Mattheo's eyes. "I won't be able to make it for potions tonight," you stated firmly, your voice unwavering despite the charged atmosphere. "Feeling a bit under the weather."

Mattheo's lips curled into a subtle smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Under the weather, huh?" he said, his tone laced with feigned concern. "Such a shame. I suppose I'll have to find another way to occupy my evening."

There was a playful challenge in his words, hinting at an unspoken understanding between the two of you. Around the table, the boys exchanged raised eyebrow glances, their expressions laced with sadistic curiosity. Their eyes flicked between you and Mattheo, absorbing the interaction with keen interest, as if trying to unravel the depth of the connection between the two of you. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, each of them leaning in slightly, eager to catch any nuances in your conversation, their curiosity piqued by the intriguing dynamic at play.

"I suppose you will," you said, your voice laced with venom. "Enjoy your evening, Riddle."

Just as you attempted to leave, a cold, harsh grip closed around your wrist, making you gasp in surprise. Glancing down, you found Berkshire's twisted face leering up at you, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips.

"If you ever need help getting that stick out of your uptight ass, I'd consider lending a hand," his eyes glinted with malicious intent as he taunted, "of course, for the right price...I'm not as generous as Mattheo."

Your eyes narrowed, fury burning in your veins like wildfire. "Mattheo, generous?" you scoffed, disbelief lacing your words. "That's the last word I'd associate him with."

Berkshire's lips twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes glinting with sadistic satisfaction. "Oh, trust me, little bird," he sneered, leaning in closer, "generosity might not be his best feature--but sometimes, when you're dealing with snakes, it's better to know which one bites less."

His grip tightened briefly before he released you, leaving you seething with anger and frustration. Mattheo's jaw clenched visibly, his fingers curling into fists at Berkshire's audacious words. His eyes narrowed, a storm of anger brewing beneath the surface, but he maintained his composure.

"Watch your tongue, Berkshire." With a chilling calmness, he spoke, his voice laced with a warning tone. "And what did I tell you about fucking touching her?"

His words hung heavy in the air, a subtle threat underlying the calm facade. The atmosphere grew tenser, and even Berkshire seemed to falter slightly under the weight of Mattheo's gaze. The unspoken tension between the two boys crackled, leaving an electric charge in the room.

But then, Berkshire's lips curled into a sinister smile, as if he'd just come to some sudden realization, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement.

"My apologies, Riddle," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, glancing around at all of the other boys at the table. "I didn't realize she was off-limits...but, I have to say, it's quite intriguing, isn't it? The way you guard her so fiercely. Makes one wonder just how close you two really are."

Your irritation swelled, the annoyance becoming almost tangible. How had you thought Mattheo's snark was bad? This guy was in an entire fucking league of his own.

"What truly intrigues me is how someone as insufferable as you manages to function on a daily basis," you hissed, each word dripping with venom, spat out through gritted teeth. "I didn't think it was possible to be more arrogant than Mattheo, but I suppose congratulations are in order. At least you win at something, unlike Quiddit-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Berkshire erupted from his seat, his face contorted with rage, poised to confront you, stalling your lungs in your chest. The rest of the boys swiftly intervened, seizing him and forcefully yanking him back down into his seat, averting a potential escalation of yet another confrontation, each of them exchanging uneasy glances.

Mattheo's demeanor was a storm of barely restrained fury, his eyes dark and blazing with intensity. Despite his efforts to remain composed, the anger seeping from him was palpable, casting a shadow over the entire table.

You shot a scathing look at Berkshire, his gaze avoiding yours as he muttered bitter words under his breath, unwilling to engage in anymore direct confrontation.

Despite the tension, your voice dripped with disdain as you whispered, "bloody pathetic."

The words hung in the air, heavy with disgust, lingering like a ghostly mist--and before anyone had a chance to say anything else, you turned on your heel and left the hall. Each step echoed the frustration and anger that churned within you, the atmosphere thick with the lingering tension of the encounter. As you stormed down the corridor, your footsteps reverberating off the stone walls, you couldn't shake off the seething anger that clung to you like a second skin.

The distant echoes of the Great Hall's chaos faded into the background as you retreated into the quiet corridor, seeking solace from the storm you had unleashed. Just as you began to regain a semblance of composure, Mattheo's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, his frustration palpable in the way he growled your name. You turned to face him, meeting his intense gaze, where anger and concern danced in his eyes like a tempest.

"The hell was that, Raven? What were you fucking thinking?" he demanded, his footsteps closing in with purposeful strides. His voice, though edged with annoyance, held an undercurrent of worry. "Starting a fight with Berkshire in the middle of the Great Hall? Are you trying to draw unnecessary attention to us?"

"You think I fucking started that?" Your eyes flashed with defiance, refusing to back down despite the intensity of Mattheo's gaze.

"I won't stand there and let him disrespect me, Mattheo," you retorted, your voice cutting through the silence with sharp precision. The weight of his annoyance only fueled your determination. "I'm already your doormat, I won't be his too."

There was a challenging edge to your words, a fire that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of Mattheo's frustration. It was a declaration of your unwillingness to be treated as less than you were worth, a resolve that echoed in the defiant set of your shoulders and the unwavering determination in your eyes. Mattheo's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a menacing intensity. He closed the distance between you in a few more swift strides, his presence overwhelming.

"You're not my doormat, Raven," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "But if you keep pushing...if you keep running your mouth like that, you might just find out what it feels like to be truly under someone's heel...I can't keep defending you without drawing suspicion."

"Oh, look at you...big tough guy, huh?" Your defiance blazed in your eyes, undeterred by Mattheo's threats. You stepped forward, kinking your neck back to catch his eyes. "What are you going to do about it, hm? Get out the belt again? We both know I can handle more than that, Riddle..."

"You're playing with fire, princess..." Mattheo warned, his tone dripping with dark amusement as it dropped to a low whisper. "And we both know how that usually ends, don't we?"

His smirk, etched with wicked allure, deepened into a predatory grin. His eyes, like shards of obsidian, glittered with a potent mixture of dominance and danger. Leaning in, he invaded your personal space, his head tilting slightly as his gaze flickered to your lips, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. Your pulse quickened, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment. Despite the adrenaline surging through your veins, you met his eyes with unwavering courage, a silent declaration that you would not be easily swayed by his aura of power and intrigue.

"Seems like that's all I do these days," you whispered back, allowing your defiance to blow away with the wind as you remembered why you even ventured to his table in the first place. "I can't do this anymore, Mattheo...I can't keep doing this...whatever the fuck this even is in the first place..."

Mattheo's eyes softened, his usual facade cracking for a moment as he reached out, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw.

"Raven," he murmured, his voice filled with a complexity of emotions, "we're in too deep now...you and I both know there's no turning back..."

The dim light of the corridor cast deep shadows across Mattheo's features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His eyes, normally ablaze with confidence, were now clouded with uncertainty, a storm of conflicting emotions. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, adding to the enigmatic aura that surrounded him. As he leaned in, the scent of his cologne wrapped around you, intoxicating and alluring.

"No, Mattheo..." you breathed, turning your head to avoid his lips. "You said no strings but there seems to be a lot of fucking strings...it’s all too much…”

Your inner turmoil churned like a tempest within, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions tearing at the very core of your existence. There was an ache nestled deep in your chest, a painful acknowledgment that you were bound to Mattheo in ways that defied logic and reason. The desire for something genuine, something profound and real, clashed violently with the brutal truth that it could never be.

It was a cruel paradox: Mattheo's possessiveness, his insistence on claiming you, even in the shadowy realms of secrecy, left you feeling both wanted and yet painfully isolated. The longing for an authentic connection battled relentlessly with the reality that this clandestine affair could never transform into something meaningful. You found yourself ensnared in a complex web, a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame, unable to resist its allure despite the inevitable burn.

His games and possessive gestures were merely agonizing reminders of the insurmountable boundaries. Yet, the magnetic pull of his presence, the way he ignited a fire within you, kept you entangled in this perilous dance. Your feelings for him were perplexing, a tumultuous mix of intense desire and seething resentment. He made you experience emotions you had never felt before, confusing you with the sheer intensity of your reactions.

You hated him, despised the way he treated you, yet he had an inexplicable power over you, making you feel both alive and trapped simultaneously. The dichotomy between the pleasure he brought and the pain he inflicted left you utterly confounded, adrift in a sea of emotions, desperately searching for an anchor that seemed forever out of reach.

Mattheo's eyes softened even further as he blinked, catching the flicker of turmoil in your gaze. He stepped back, the intensity of the moment breaking as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, a gesture of frustration and resignation.

"You're just not feeling well..." he said, his voice void of emotion, as though your turmoil was inconsequential, as though your current health state somehow made any fucking difference. "Get some rest, Raven. See you Wednesday."

His words hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste, a reminder of the futility of your situation. With a final, detached glance, he turned away and spun down the dimly lit hall, his figure gradually fading into the shadows. The weight of his indifference settled on your shoulders, a heavy burden that mirrored the ache in your heart. As he disappeared from view, you stood there, alone in the corridor, feeling both abandoned and entangled, like a moth caught in a web of its own making.

—————-

Chapter twelve->

[ducki3qua3k]

Chapter 1: Welcome to Banban's Kindergarten

A/N: So by now I'm sure you must've heard of Garten of Banban, but if you haven't already Garten of Banban is an indie mascot horror game. It's become pretty popular recently with big streamers and YouTubers such as Markiplier, CaseOh, and other people playing it.

I first caught wind of it when the first game was released and I thought it was pretty good, so I continued to watch as the other games were released.

It's safe to say I have grown obsessed with it and it has almost become a comfort game for me. It's just too campy to hate, y'know. Anyways let me get back on topic, I decided to join the hype train and write a fanfic of it. I basically wanted to expand the world and give it a little more context.

I originally wrote it from a fem pov, but I'll try to write more gender-inclusive stuff in the future. I also decided to name your son Andy, but if you don't like it you can always change it. I mainly wanted to name him Andy after Andy from Child's Play and Andy from Toy Story (I also left a small Toy Story reference somewhere in the text lol).

Let me stop rambling and just cut to the story. I hope you enjoy this and if you do I might consider continuing this and dropping some other stuff if you're interested.

I don't even know where to begin... I made a lot of mistakes in life. Like a lot of mistakes.

For example, falling in love with my high school sweetheart, got pregnant, decided to keep the baby, and then had my parents kick me out. To top it all off, my high school sweetheart broke up with me, leaving me to navigate being a single mother alone.

But one mistake I never regretted was my son, Andy.

For a long while, I debated just giving the baby up for adoption and begging for my parents to take me back in. That was until I saw and held him in my arms for the first time. I instantly fell in love and knew I had to take care of him, no matter what happened.

I had managed to secure two jobs that helped pay the bills and found a small apartment for us to live in. The walls may have been thin, and the furniture may have been secondhand, but it was ours, a place where Andy could grow and thrive.

My scholarship was a saving grace, easing the financial burden of pursuing my education. Even though the days were long and exhausting, I pushed through, fueled by the determination to give Andy a better future. Juggling assignments, late shifts, and early mornings with a baby in tow was no easy feat, but every moment spent with Andy made it all worthwhile.

The sideways glances and hushed whispers that followed me as I navigated through the day were like a constant buzz in the background. People judged, people talked, but I had learned to tune them out. Their opinions didn't matter; what mattered was Andy's well-being and happiness.

As Andy grew older, he became a ray of sunshine in my life, his laughter filling our small apartment with warmth. Despite the challenges we faced, his presence brought joy and purpose to my days.

After finally settling into a routine of balancing work, school, and caring for Andy, life seemed to be slowly falling into place.

That was until recently...

Andy turned five, a milestone that brought both excitement and apprehension to my heart. As his birthday approached, the reality of enrolling him into kindergarten loomed over me like a dark cloud, casting shadows of uncertainty and worry.

I knew the time had come to take the next step, to send Andy off to his first school experience. It was a moment I had been dreading, knowing that once he stepped into that classroom, he would be taking a leap into the world beyond our little cocoon of safety and familiarity.

It was during one of our routine walks around the neighborhood that I first caught wind of the new kindergarten opening up near us. The news spread like wildfire among the parents, whispers of a state-of-the-art facility with promises of innovative teaching methods and a vibrant learning environment.

The air was heavy with tension, filled with the murmurs of worried parents and the occasional sound of a ringing phone. Every passing minute felt like an eternity, each second dragging on in agonizing silence. I couldn't bear the uncertainty, the gnawing fear that gripped my heart like a vice.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a stern-faced officer called my name. My heart leaped into my throat as I stood up, my legs trembling beneath me. I trailed behind him as we walked down a lengthy corridor, the bright fluorescent lights flickering above us, offering a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

We entered a small, dimly lit room, and I took a seat across from the officer, my hands trembling in my lap. He fixed me with a serious gaze, his eyes searching mine for any hint of emotion.

"We've been investigating the school," he began, his voice steady but grave. "And I'm afraid to say that we haven't found any trace of your son, Andy, or any of the other children who were in the kindergarten that day."

My heart plummeted into the depths of despair, an icy chill spreading through my veins. Andy, my sweet, innocent boy, was missing without a trace. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I had to stay strong for Andy.

"Please, is there anything else you can tell me? Any leads, any clues?" I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper.

The officer shook his head solemnly, his expression pained. "I'm sorry, ma'am. We're doing everything we can to find out what happened, but it's like they've all vanished into thin air."

I felt a surge of frustration and helplessness wash over me. How could this be happening? Where was my precious Andy? The officer promised to keep me updated with any recent developments, but as I left the station, a heavy weight settled in the pit of my stomach.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into a torturous eternity of not knowing. The constant ache of uncertainty gnawed at my mind, driving me to the brink of madness. I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing Andy again, of never hearing his laughter or feeling his small arms wrapped around me in a tight hug.

And so, fueled by a mother's love and desperation, I made a decision. As the darkness of night descended upon the city, I gathered my resolve and set out to uncover the truth behind Banban's Kindergarten and find my missing son, no matter the cost.

I got past the gate and endless police tape before reaching the door. I took out a lock pick, and after a couple of attempts, finally opened the door.

I took a deep breath in and prepared myself to discover whatever was going on with this school and find my son.

As I entered the building, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The once colorful and warm interior filled with excited kids racing through the halls now felt lonely and unnerving.

I glanced at the mural on the wall of the school's mascots. From what you remember Andy telling you, there's Banban, Banbanleena, Jumbo Josh, Stinger Flynn, Opila Bird, and Captain Fiddles.

It was a strange batch of characters that would make most children excited, but you just found them unsettling. Especially Banban, the supposed leader and main character. You've always found something off about him, especially with his weird obsession with pancreases and the fact you weren't exactly sure what he was. Some kind of devil or red monster?

I brushed it off and carefully began to explore the area. I noticed most of the doors required a key card to get past, and one door seemed to be a maintenance room.

I looked around for the key to the door, before finding a blue key card sitting on the reception desk. I unlocked the door and found a remote and drone waiting inside.

Unfortunately, it needed batteries, but fortunately enough, I found a note with familiar handwriting. It was Andy's.

I quickly skimmed it to see what he could've possibly written. It read: 'Dear Mommy, I am hiding in a room, but I have to fight the monster. It's the only way to make Claire like me' with two stick figures which seemed to be him and another girl Claire, trying to fight some strange bird.

I quickly put a hand over my mouth to choke back a sob. I felt so relieved to know he was alright, but now I had to worry about finding him.

With renewed determination, I set out to locate the batteries for the drone. I scoured the cafeteria area, my eyes scanning every corner until I spotted two batteries tucked away in a forgotten corner.

Returning to the maintenance room, I swiftly inserted the batteries into the drone, a soft hum filling the air as it came to life. Since I couldn't reach the button, I decided to use the drone to push it instead and somehow it worked.

As the doors of the mysterious kindergarten creaked open, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at my quick thinking. The drone had come through for me, pushing the unreachable button and granting me access to the unknown corridor beyond.

However, that fleeting sense of pride quickly dissipated as the doors swung wide open, revealing a dark, empty corridor that seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Before me lay a large indoor playground, designed to mimic a forest setting, complete with artificial trees and foliage. In the center of the room, I saw the bird once more, perched in front of a boarded-up ball pit. This time, however, it appeared to be a lifeless, animatronic figure rather than a living creature.

That's when I noticed a message scrawled on the wall behind the bird, written in bold letters: 'Opila Bird mission! Opila Bird is unbelievably hungry! Find all 6 eggs to get your prize.'

I figured that finding these eggs would somehow open the blocked-off room, so I searched around for any of the eggs.

I managed to find all of them and fed them to the Opila bird. With a mechanical whirr, the bird's eyes glowed a bright red, and a high pitched, shrieking noise emanated from its beak. It opened its maw and, to my surprise, spat out a yellow key card onto the ground.

I pocketed the key card and made my way towards the classroom across from the playground.

The door creaked open with a soft groan, revealing a small, brightly colored classroom.

My eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar sight of colorful plastic chairs and tables arranged haphazardly around the space. A whiteboard stood at the front of the room, the words 'the end is near' scrawled across it in messy handwriting.

In the corner of the room, a solitary chair sat surrounded by a low barrier of yellow glass, a sign above it declaring it as the 'naughty corner. The idea of a child actually being forced to sit there rubbed you the wrong way, but you supposed it was a much more humane type of punishment than the ones you've heard of.

My attention was drawn to a yellow card reader mounted on the wall near the time-out corner. Remembering the key card I had obtained from the Opila bird, I inserted it into the reader. A button lit up, prompting me to direct the drone to press it once more.

As the button was pushed, a blue locker in the corner of the room clicked open, revealing its contents.

Inside, a crumpled note with the words 'distraction 1' caught my eye, accompanied by a sturdy hammer resting beside it. The significance of the note eluded me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it held a clue to the mysteries surrounding this strange kindergarten.

Recalling the boarded-up ball pit in the playground, I knew the hammer could be the key to unlocking the next phase of my search for Andy. I pocketed the note and the hammer before making my way back to the playground.

I stepped forward, raised the hammer, and began to methodically pry away the wooden boards with each thud of the hammer against the wood reverberating through the room.

As the last board clattered to the ground, I cautiously stepped into the ball pit room, my eyes widened in shock at the sight that greeted me.

The room was dominated by a gaping, dark hole that seemed to stretch endlessly into an ominous abyss. The darkness within was so deep and consuming, it felt as though it could swallow me whole.

Questions raced through my mind in a frantic whirl. How could such a perilous void exist within an elementary school? What if a child accidentally stumbled and fell into this treacherous pit of darkness? The mere thought sent a shiver down my spine, a chill that gripped me with a sense of foreboding.

After a momentary pause, I noticed another yellow key card reader and inserted the card.

Suddenly, a faint whirring sound filled the air, and to my surprise, a ski lift descended from the ceiling, its metallic frame gleaming in the dim light. The unexpected sight left me momentarily stunned, but I quickly composed myself and took a seat, the soft hum of the lift's machinery resonating around me.

Pressing the button on the wall, the ski lift ascended slowly, carrying me above the dark expanse below. The lack of railings made me squirm a bit in my seat, the precariousness of the situation not lost on me. Every creak of the lift, every sway, felt like walking across a tightrope.

As the ski lift came to a halt, I disembarked, my heart racing with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Before me loomed a puzzling challenge. The mascots of the kindergarten lined up with the enigmatic question, 'What's my color?' scrawled on the wall. Banban, Banbanleena, Opila, each with their distinct hues, their animated eyes seeming to follow my every move.

Furrowing my brow in concentration, I racked my brain, recalling the colors of each mascot as if my son's fate depended on it.

From what you recalled, Banban was red, Banbanleena was white, Jumbo Josh was green, Captain Fiddles was light purple, Opila was pink, and Stinger Flynn was orange.

My answer must've been right, because the lights all lit up green and unlocked the locker. With cautious optimism, I reached out to grab the orange key card that emerged from the newly opened locker.

However, my fleeting moment of triumph was abruptly shattered by the low hum of machinery coming to life. A chill ran down my spine as I turned to see the familiar, ominous figure of the bird from earlier, now looming closer as it was carried towards me by the mechanism of the ski lift.

Its red eyes gleamed malevolently in the dim light, and I could feel the weight of its gaze bore into me. The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension, and a sense of urgency gripped my heart. This was no time for celebration; danger lurked just around the corner, ready to pounce.

Instinct kicked in, adrenaline fueling my actions as I swiftly pocketed the orange key card and scanned the room for a means of escape. The ski lift groaned ominously as it drew nearer, the bird's presence casting a shadow over my every thought. I needed to act fast and think faster.

Without a moment's hesitation, I grabbed my trusty drone, its familiar hum a comforting buzz in the midst of chaos. With a steady hand, I maneuvered it towards the looming bird, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple.

"Come on...Come on!" I whispered urgently, willing the drone to hit the button with precision. Time seemed to slow as the drone closed the distance, the birds advance relentless. The weight of the moment pressed down on me, a symphony of fear and determination playing in my veins.

And then, with a sharp click, the button was pressed. A surge of relief flooded through me as a pathway materialized out of the wall. Without hesitation, I leaped onto the newly formed path, my heart pounding in rhythm with my frantic steps.

The bird, now in hot pursuit, its presence a looming threat at my heels, drove me forward. The urgency of the moment was palpable, each heartbeat a thunderous drumbeat in my ears. The other side beckoned, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

With a final, desperate leap, I cleared the gap and landed on the opposite platform, my breath ragged in my chest. The emergency stop button caught my eye, a last resort in the face of danger. With a swift motion, I inserted the orange key card; the mechanism whirring to life at my touch.

A cacophony of screeches filled the air as the bird, now thwarted in its pursuit, plummeted into the dark abyss below. The resounding thud reverberated through the room, a grim reminder of the peril that lurked within this twisted place.

As the sound of the bird’s demise disappeared, I paused to compose myself, calm my racing heart, and gather my resolve. I finally got up and decided to continue on my journey.

The adrenaline from narrowly escaping the relentless Opila bird still pulsed through my veins as I approached the door at the end of the hallway.

With a deep breath, I inserted the orange key card into the slot, the metallic click echoing in the empty hallway. The door slid open with a faint hiss, revealing a dimly lit room beyond.

Steeling myself, I stepped inside; the door shutting with a soft thud behind me. The room was smaller than I expected, barren except for a few mismatched chairs and a desk with a computer perched on top.

My eyes landed on a card reader hidden under the desk, its red light beckoning me forward. Without hesitation, I activated it with the orange key card, not knowing what to expect next. Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath my feet, and before I could react, half of the floor slid down, revealing a hidden elevator shaft.

I watched in awe as an elevator ascended from the depths below, its metal doors opening with a soft ding. Hope surged within me as I realized this might be the way to find my missing son, Andy. Without a second thought, I stepped into the elevator; the doors closing behind me with a mechanical hum.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly until the lights abruptly started flickering a sinister shade of red, bathing the small space in a crimson glow.

A low, guttural growl reverberated through the metal walls, sending shivers down my spine. Panic welled up within me as I frantically searched for the source of the ominous sound. Suddenly, a massive clay hand clamped onto the railing of the elevator, causing it to lurch and shake violently.

I staggered, trying to maintain my balance as a colossal figure loomed into view. It was Jumbo Josh, but this version was grotesque, almost monstrous, in its clay-like form. Before the situation could escalate further, the elevator plummeted, sending us both into a free fall, the world spinning around us in a dizzying blur.

The sudden drop stole my breath, and as darkness closed in around me, I could only brace myself for what awaited at the bottom of this unexpected descent.

[hantengus-clones]

Do you guys ever feel anything else other than your main emotion? Just curious. 👀

Tch, all I feel as a manifestation of anger is constant state of pure rage, although I can feel other emotions to some degree. Frustration, impatience, and even brief moments of satisfaction or determination can strike me. However, anything too far removed from my anger tends to be weaker and more temporary…

Just as Sekido is consumed by his anger, my sorrow engulfs me, yet there are short glimpses of times when I can sense something different... They are, however, eclipsed by the tremendous weight of my despair. It's like a thin veil that I can barely grasp before it dissipates and because my default state of mind is always tied to sorrow, breaking away from it is hard.

Sheesh… There are sparse moments when I am not so laid-back but they don't last very long, ya know?~ Anything too far from my relaxed temperament seems strange and unnatural. Kinda like plunging my toes into unknown territory, not something I am used to personally. I would say, when it comes to the range of emotions we can feel, it seems as if anything on the “spectrum” is more likely to show.~

Woo boy, joy is my main jam, but I can also experience excitement and enthusiasm and happiness and glee and delight! They're like variations of the same vibrant energy, bringing that happy buzz to the fore! I find it difficult to tap into emotions that are not on the happy side of the spectrum, though.

[charmingpplincardigans]

I keep thinking I need to write some words to round off the year and then immediately becoming exhausted. Not so much by the idea of taking stock, which I do all of the time in little ways, but by facing the person I want to be. The person I've failed to be.

Because, to be bluntly and perfectly honest, there have been several moments this past year when I have not been my best, when I've hurt people I love in ways that go beyond my aptitude for general carelessness. None of them premeditated or due to lack of caring of course, all of them because I was trying to handle things internally that I was not equipped to handle and didn't speak up about it to anyone who could help, so that even the help that was offered felt wrong, unhelpful, did not solve the internal turmoil that the other person could not know was there and therefore could not navigate any better than I was.

And I did a pretty bad job! As previously stated! I know I am not my mistakes. I know I have talked and will talk about these things and will work to continue to get through them if not fix them entirely, but it does feel slightly damning to write up a whole thing about how I'm constantly trying to be a better person without acknowledging that even so, sometimes I'm not a great person! It's probably the same for everyone, but I'd prefer not to have other people caught in my shrapnel, you know?

That said, this year has been a lot. We're closing out the third year of a pandemic and I continue to be surprised daily by the ways my own brain comes up with to compartmentalize and bargain with risk and reward. The way the fear has gone from a constant, droning, undeniable buzzing to a weak background whine that I sometimes don't think about or hear at all, even though it's there.

I think a lot about The Body Keeps the Score in general, but especially about how anxiety and stress take their toll on our physical selves, whether we want to acknowledge them as they're happening or not. Humans are resilient, but we are made of sand, not stone. Nothing leaves us unchanged. We have all been so changed these last several years in sweeping ways that we share and small ways that we might not even be able to understand within ourselves for years.

Who might we have been, if only we had had other unpredictable and overwhelming stressors instead. Quiet ones that no one else knew about. Fears without a community shorthand. Hopes without a common deficit, if there even are such things. I think a lot about a piece of paper art I made in 2020, of the echoes I knew even then would reverberate through everyone who survived. We are all still echoing, for better or worse.

But if anything about me is for the better, it's because of the people who love me. Who make art with me. Who let me yell at them about things I love. Who let me browbeat them into watching tv shows and reading books and share their excitement back. Who helped me move 1,200 miles to get back to this place that still feels like home, even as the place that was my first home will maybe never feel as far away as it is. Who will just be beside me when things are new and exciting and fun and when things are quiet and common and monotonous. Who adventure with me and laugh with me and make plans with me for the future, even though nothing is set in stone. Even though sand shifts. Even though people change. We can change together and it can and will be okay. Who foster hope with me and between us. Who know that hope is a living thing and it's us who keep it green.

I remain, as always, lucky to love the people I have and even luckier that some of them love me back. There are so many things I want to do. So many people I want to be. So many joys left to share. I started a new bullet journal. I think it's time to stop losing years. To stop merely existing in my various states of stress and letting it all pass me by without dipping my hands in. This time is precious, it's time to get back to treating it as such.

I don't know who I'll be by the time I make this post again in a year. I hope that things surprise me along the way. I hope I meet the intervening time with courage, curiosity, and joy. I hope to be more careful with my friends and myself.  Above all I hope there is still love overflowing. It's the most important echo I can think of to leave behind.

[influencermagazineuk]

As the highly anticipated Beatles '64 documentary drops on Disney+, acclaimed director Adam McKay kicked up a storm with a pointed critique of "white liberals" and their enduring fascination with The Beatles. McKay, known for directing Don’t Look Up, took to X (formerly Twitter) to share his candid thoughts just hours before the release of David Tedeschi’s Beatles ’64. His posts sparked widespread discussion and debate among fans and critics alike. “Nothing is lamer/funnier than white liberals’ never-ending fascination for The Beatles. It’s so Neo-liberal. ‘They’re the best, right? So let’s never stop micro-focusing on them,’” McKay wrote. He didn't stop there. "Liberals always operate from a 'must get the right answer on the test' list of approved culture. It's so lifeless and flat. Like yeah, 'Happiness is a Warm Gun' and 'Day in the Life' are great tunes, but let's move past age 13," he added, sharing his opinion that infatuation with the group feels staid and overly groupthink. Red Carpet Report on Mingle Media TV from Culver City, USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons A Polarizing Perspective Predictably, it led to a flurry of online comments. A user shot back and claimed: "I cannot imagine being sad to live where I let some sort of politics give me a crappy attitude regarding The Beatles of all." McKay countered, saying his comments were not political. "Got nothing to do with politics. It's just that we all get into The Beatles when we're 12 and then we move on. Being over the age of 30 and regularly talking about The Beatles just means you're a bore." He went on, explaining from a personal perspective about his dynamic relationship with music: "And my love of music is a constant source of joy. It changes and grows in ways I can't predict. But good lord, to watch a Beatles doc every year? Shoot me dead now." McKay's comments fall during increased buzz for Beatles '64, a Martin Scorsese-produced documentary that reexamines the meteoric ascension of the band through their first U.S. tour. The film is directed by David Tedeschi and comprises rare, newly restored 4K footage taken by Albert and David Maysles for the original 1964 documentary, What's Happening! The Beatles in the U.S.A. The project gives fans an intimate look at The Beatles during their groundbreaking era in the United States, blending archival footage with behind-the-scenes moments. This nostalgic trip to Beatlemania has been met with excitement, particularly among long-time fans of the Fab Four. McKay's review is also part of a larger conversation about the role of The Beatles in contemporary culture. For decades, the band has been celebrated across generations, with their music often being used as a cultural reference point. However, McKay’s comments suggest a frustration with the fixation on certain icons at the expense of broader musical exploration. While acknowledging The Beatles’ talent and enduring appeal, he calls for more diversity in cultural discourse, urging people to move beyond what he perceives as a repetitive focus on past icons. Many fans find it timeless, while others seem to agree with McKay on the fact that such affection can be stagnant or too restrictive. The argument really brings to question the very nature of how society makes room for the celebration of cultural heritage without allowing any newness in perspective. Beatles '64: More of the Same or Something Different? Whether or not McKay's words ring true, the release of Beatles '64 is sure to reignite widespread appreciation for the band. Scorsese's involvement and the promise of rare, high-quality footage have already generated considerable excitement. While some, like McKay, may question the need for yet another documentary about the Fab Four, others are thrilled to revisit the energy and cultural significance of their 1964 U.S. tour. For fans, the film is not just about nostalgia—it's about reliving the magic of a moment that defined an era. The conversation sparked by McKay illustrates the tension between reverence to the past and the insistence on new cultural narratives. Through Beatles '64, audiences will come with personal perspectives, whether they are veterans of the Beatles or one of those curious about why everyone is making such a big deal. One thing is sure: The Beatles are a lightning rod for discussing music, culture, and the enduring power of art. Whether celebrated or criticized, their legacy continues to provoke reactions, ensuring their place in the cultural conversation for years to come. Read the full article

[shawnhills]

the singer watched the toronto's skyline fade into the distance as the plane soared through the clouds. he leaned back in his seat, the rhythmic thrum of the engines lulling him into a state of calm anticipation. the past few months had been a whirlwind of creativity and collaboration, but amidst the chaos of the music industry, he found himself craving a moment of respite. as the plane touched down on the runway, shawn's excitement grew with each passing moment. the festival beckoned like a beacon of light in the distance, promising a week of freedom and connection. stepping off the plane, he was greeted by the vibrant energy of the festival grounds, the air buzzing with excitement and possibility. navigating his way through the crowds, shawn couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that surrounded him. everywhere he looked, there were smiling faces and outstretched hands, welcoming him into their world with open arms. and then, amidst the throng of revelers, he saw her. dua, radiant beneath the azure expanse of the sky, her laughter mingling with the music that filled the air. in that moment, shawn knew that this was exactly where he was meant to be.

shawn leaned back against the plush cushions of the sun lounger, his phone buzzing with notifications from the festival's bustling atmosphere. amidst the flurry of messages and invitations, one stood out among the rest: dua's response to his invitation to lounge by the pool. a smile crept onto his face as he read her enthusiastic reply. despite the chaos of the festival, knowing that dua had accepted his invitation brought a sense of calm to his soul. there was something about her presence that always made everything feel just a little bit brighter. as he made his way to the pool area, shawn couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through his veins. it had been too long since they had a chance to catch up properly, and the prospect of spending time with dua filled him with a sense of anticipation. spotting her amidst the crowd, shawn felt a wave of warmth wash over him. there was something about the way she carried herself, the easy grace with which she moved, that never failed to captivate him. settling into the sun lounger beside her, shawn couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him. in a world filled with fleeting connections and superficial conversations, dua was a constant source of comfort and companionship.

shawn chuckled at dua's remark, the sound carrying a sense of shared amusement. "i hear you," he replied, nodding in agreement. "there's definitely a special kind of magic in those frozen margaritas. it's like a taste of paradise in a glass." he watched as dua took a sip of her drink, the sunlight catching the rim of her glass and casting a golden glow on her features. there was a warmth in her gaze, a playful sparkle that never failed to lift his spirits. "as much as i love a good classic margarita," shawn began, reaching for his own glass, "there's just something about that icy texture that makes it perfect for days like this." he took a sip of his drink, savoring the tangy sweetness on his tongue. leaning back in his sun lounger, shawn let out a contented sigh. "but you know what they say," he continued, his gaze drifting lazily across the pool area. "sometimes it's the simple pleasures that bring the most joy. like lounging by the pool with good company and a cold drink in hand." he met dua's gaze, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "although i must admit, the image of you pouring a margarita over your head is quite entertaining. but let's save that for a last resort, shall we?" he laughed. shawn was always captivated by her, whenever he was with her, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her. he couldn't help but admire the effortless way she carried herself. despite the whirlwind of fame and success that surrounded her, she remained grounded and genuine, a rare quality in their industry. "you know," he said, his voice soft with sincerity, "it's moments like these that make all the chaos worth it. just being able to kick back and enjoy the simple pleasures in life." he glanced around the pool area, taking in the laughter and chatter of their fellow festival-goers. "and having you here," he added, meeting dua's gaze with a smile, "makes it even better. it's like a mini vacation from the madness of the outside world."

beneath the azure expanse of the sky, the radiant sun kissed her exposed skin, offering a stark departure from the typically dusky and grey london she had become accustomed to lately. it wasn't that dua harbored any ill feelings towards her beloved hometown; in fact, her affection for it ran deep. yet, the relentless absence of sunlight had begun to wear on her, leaving her yearning for the warmth of vitamin d. describing the start of her year as merely "intense" would be a gross understatement. it felt as though each passing week brought with it a whirlwind of events - a perpetual rotation of red carpets and award shows, all amidst the backdrop of releasing her new music. dua found herself navigating this bustling circus with grace, but amidst the chaos, a longing for respite began to take root within her. thus, when whispers of a week-long festival surfaced, dua seized the opportunity without hesitation. despite the looming specter of her forthcoming gig, one of her most significant performances in since last years festivals, the prospect of this getaway felt less like a work obligation and more akin to a well-deserved retreat.

the trip was also an opportunity to catch up with friends she hadn’t been able to spend much time with in the past few months. everywhere she turned, familiar faces greeted her, each encounter laden with promises of overdue lunches and catch ups over drinks. realistically, she understood the impossibility of accommodating everyone and everything within the limited time they were all in the same place together. however, amid the bustling schedule, one individual remained a non-negotiable priority: shawn. when his message flashed across her screen, extending an invitation to lounge by the pool, dua knew instinctively that it was an offer she couldn’t decline.

adjusting her sunglasses atop her head, dua shifted her position on the sun lounger, propping herself up on her elbows. "i can't believe their blender decided to give up the ghost," she exclaimed. "i mean, a classic margarita is all well and good… but there's just something about those frozen ones, you know?" with a deft motion, she raised her glass to her lips, the salted rim glistening in the sunlight, before setting it down on the nearby table. “with a frozen one i could’ve almost resorted to pouring it over my head in this heat..” her gaze wandered momentarily around the pool area, taking in the scene, before retrieving back to him. | @shawnhills

[dorimena]

𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; todoroki shouto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.8k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; sex toy (egg vibrator), public sex, slight exhibitionism, dry humping, implied edging, cursing, cumming in pants, dom!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; I tried keeping the reader as gender-neutral as possible, Todoroki just wants you to know how much he loves you, so if wearing a vibrator makes you happy so be it, if this were the first time Todoroki were doing this he wouldn’t have shamelessly allowed himself to cum, aka I’m thinking about doing something with this AU I guess

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱��; This is for 🍦 anon’s ask about either Todoroki or Aizawa wearing a vibrator in a meeting. I decided to make him the son of CEO Endeavor, so this is a modern AU. There could be some errors around here, but I’ll check it out later. Sorry for the horrible title

Todoroki loves you; he truly does.

Even at the beginning of your relationship, while he still had difficulties in trusting you entirely and accidentally brushed you aside in fear of being too attached or clingy, he’s always known he loves you.

He loves you in the mornings when you wake him up with such a tired yet peaceful expression.

He loves you in the afternoons when you’re cooking dinner in the weird apron Mina gave you as a housewarming gift. (Why cheetah prints?)

He loves you in the night when you massage his shoulders after a treacherous meeting gone south too fast, easing words of adoration and affirmation into his mind while you’re sporting a funky looking face mask.

He loves you anywhere, anytime, however you look, however you talk… He’ll do anything to keep you happy and know about his unlimited love and respect for you.

Even if it means he has to wear an egg vibrator inside of him during his dad’s meeting. The very meeting where it’ll be decided if his dad’s company merges with some young entrepreneur’s named Keigo or something. He can’t seem to remember.

Not like he really cares, anyways. He doesn’t want to inherit his dad’s company. But Touya decided to spite their father by starting up his own, Fuyumi seems pretty happy being an elementary school teacher and Natsuo is busy being a doctor.

God, the only great thing to come out of inheriting this lame company is that he’ll get to see you every day, any day, all the time.

You’re one of his dad’s best logistician coordinators, and while no one in this meeting room know you two have been dating for much longer than your professional career, he’s certain that your horrible rendition of a relaxed façade will raise eyebrows at why him, the youngest Todoroki offspring, is trembling under your stare.

It’s kind of weird bringing something usually done in the bedroom and displaying it secretly in public. Even more weird considering the room is full of older people, except for him, you, that Keigo guy, some secretaries from both companies…

Where was he getting at again?

Oh, right.

The egg vibrator in his ass being controlled by your evil hands (and cellphone) buzzing so teasingly in him, he can’t remember the young entrepreneur’s name. Or the reason why he’s even willingly here in the first place.

He’s trying so hard to keep himself quiet, knowing how god awfully vocal he can get when teased or played with just right. He’s pretty sure his bottom lip is really close to bleeding, or already is. And his palms situated on the dark oak and, in your opinion, ridiculously high-priced table surely have deep dents of his fingernails, maybe some accidental scratches.

O-oh no!

“Shouto? Are… you alright?”

Shit, did he say that out loud?

“Yes, and refrain from vulgar language.”

Todoroki let go of his lip, blinking at his father as he raised an eyebrow. Or so he hopes he did.

“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me, old man.” And he’s never felt so happy hearing his father’s resigned sigh before the meeting continues. It’s unusual for the man to drop a conversation.

His joy doesn’t last for long: the vibrator in his ass is suddenly more intense than a few seconds ago, reminding him why he even spoke out loud.

Pressing his thighs together in hopes it’ll help lessen the buzzing he can finally hear, he looks across the table to give you what is meant as a curious look, but ends up just making him look completely lost.

Was it a slip of your thumb? Was it a punishment? But why punish him if he’s doing this for you? Had he been bad?

Did he miss something when you two spoke about it during breakfast? Wait, was your toast too burnt-

“Ah-” He gasped in surprise, with a frantic and scared look in his eyes. The rhythm of the vibrations changed into one that wasn’t as constant, but it’s still very, very pleasurable. Reminds him of his heartbeat when you milk another fast handjob out of him before he has to meet up with his father.

“Shouto, are you sure you’re alri-”

“Y-yes, father. I’m f-fine. L-leg cra-amp.” Well, it could’ve come out less coherent, but it’s the best he can speak with gritted teeth and tense shoulders, all while holding back his embarrassing whimpers. It’s enough, again, to make the elder Todoroki look away from his ‘agonizing’ son, soon wondering if these meetings are beginning to bore and wear out the young future CEO and soon make him feel a familiar fear he had when Touya-

But who cares about Enji’s worries and concerns when you have a trembling Shouto Todoroki, whose face is beginning to turn as red as half his hair and eyes as wet as his bottom lip after being bitten mercilessly. You’re sure you can see some red, probably dug his teeth too much and tore the skin a little, but it’s pretty swollen regardless. Maybe his dick is too?

Oh! What if you suck his dick under the table?

No, then everyone will know how he’s so smitten with you, just some random logistician coordinator instead of some offspring of another CEO. Funny how the supervisors care more about Shouto’s relationship status than his own father.

So, maybe just switching back to the rhythm being a continuous hum and finish dragging your thumb up the screen so that the toy can reach its greatest ability?

Too easy, let’s drag it out a little.

But Todoroki won’t let you, not with how he’s caressing your exposed ankle with his shoe, eyes staring pathetically into yours, mouthing “need to, need to, need to”.

So soon? You’ve barely had your fun. You can’t blame him entirely, either.

That morning, the moment you showed him the vibrator you bought for him to wear, he was already whimpering softly, moaning pleas into your neck between every kiss, all while he pressed his hard on against your thigh.

But you didn’t let him do anything to get rid of it, sending him off to get ready, even if he left whining. (He knows better than to throw a tantrum.)

Maybe he’s still sensitive after making him hump your thigh before the meeting?

Yeah, definitely.

It’s pleasant to remember his whimpers of embarrassment that soon turned into soft moans of gratitude, letting you take control of how fast he goes and how hard, all while listening to you explain the toy as he tries not to cum so soon.

You didn’t let him cum (again) because of his father’s secretary calling him to ask where he even was as the meeting began some minutes ago. Oops.

Even if it ‘ruined’ the mood, he was still so excited, and you’re starting to think you can finally see it begin to also appear on his face.

You didn’t change the rhythm or intensity, so it should’ve been enough for Shouto to get used to it, but he couldn’t. Not while he realized, tensing his thighs helped him feel so much more, and his constant shuffling and accommodation on the chair should’ve alerted you or someone, but who would’ve even thought he was trying to fuck the toy possibly deeper inside of him?

He’s pulling himself closer to the table, bringing a tight fist towards his mouth to feign a cough.

He usually does this so that he is dismissed for a break that he’d take as an open invitation to leave. Not on your watch.

Just as he was going to cough, you finished dragging your thumb to the top part of your cell phone screen and watched as his whole body jolted, and even his knee and elbow hit the table.

The room falls to a complete halt, all conversations interrupted by the young Todoroki… moan? Did the young Todoroki just moan?

He doesn’t even realize what is going on with the way he’s trying so hard to stand up and leave. But his legs are too uncoordinated with how violently the toy is vibrating, mercilessly going crazy against his sensitive prostate that just sends more arousal to his dick. If he looks close enough, he’s pretty sure he’s already beginning to leak through his expensive suit trousers.

His mouth opens in complete shock, but with a familiar hand covering it from behind, he forgets about his surroundings temporarily as he pathetically yet cutely whimpers, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

Not like it hurts, just that he’s pretty close to making a bigger mess in his clothes. He’s not sure how he’ll feel about that, not with the way he just realized he’s still very much in public, very much in a meeting, very much in the same room as his father and soon-to-be subordinates.

That has him closing his eyes quickly, feeling himself becoming cross-eyed at how ridiculing this situation is more for his father than for him, and how you oh-so-accidentally brushed against his nipple to hook your arms under his to get him on his feet.

He’s not even sure what you’re saying at this point, everything being muffled by his heartbeat in his ears and loud buzzing taking over his senses and modesty. Something about him complaining about a stomach ache and how you’ll take him to his office.

The men with gray hairs are talking among themselves about how irresponsible Shouto is with himself, others praising how, even in an ill state, he still attended, Keigo watching the ordeal with an odd look on his face, akin to familiarity of the situation probably, and Enji Todoroki being completely lost but slowly feeling his anger rising by the commotion slowly becoming too loud for his liking and comprehension.

But it’s thanks to this distraction that manages to mute out, miraculously, his mewls of your name as his hips twitch wildly, knees buckling as his orgasm takes over his body in violent, clashing waves. His few hot tears are dripping from his chin as he shamelessly moans softly with every shock of pleasure, still trying his best to stand properly.

He doesn’t even get to finish riding out his high before being dragged out of the meeting room, pretty sure he hears his father’s yells flooding the hallway as you snicker in amusement and rub your thumb on the back of his hand you’re holding. Your other hand occupied itself with turning the toy off, eyes set on the elevator closing in.

“You did great, Shou. I’m so proud of you.”

Your praises always make him keen, but this one makes him moan the loudest today, his shaky hands finding purchase on your hips to press them flush against his. Doesn’t matter the curious wet spot on his crotch, all that matters is that you know how horny he still is.

“P-please? Please, y-y/n. I-I think I ne-need more. St-still hot!”

Now, who are you to deny the man who came in front of his father shamelessly?

[poguesrforlife]

Young and Beautiful | Rudy Pankow - Part 3

Okay first of all I’m sorry it took me so long but here is part three finally. Honestly I don’t know how to feel about this because at first I wanted it to be a filler chapter and then I thought I couldn't let you hang like this so I just poured it all out. I still have some more ideas about where this might go but you guys tell me if this feels already finished to you. AND AS ALWAYS THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! for all the love and support you give, I see you all and couldn't be more thankful xxx

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Trigger warning: alcohol, swearing, nothing too smutty, a little angst and a lot of jealousy

Word count: 3,741 word (god this is so long I’m sorry)

Y/N just got the role of her lifetime, starring beside the cast of Outer Banks in the second season as JJ’s love interest. It’s a dream come true and gets even dreamier when she meets Rudy Pankow her alleged love interest. Lines start to blur between reality and film and Y/N is left wondering if taking a leap of faith is worth risking her career.

[GIF not mine credits to owner]

Days passed and filming never stopped, neither did the thought of Rudy in your mind. It was constant, the sun rose and so did your thoughts of him, the night came and so did he in your dreams. By now you were convinced that this feeling would not go away anytime soon.

Maybe some distraction would do you good. 

“How about we go out tonight?” You proposed to the girls as you were lounging in your living room, painting toe-nails, scrolling through instagram and what-not. 

“Like out out?” Madelyne’s face lit up as she looked up from her bright yellow nail polish and passed the same expression to Madison. You nodded with a smile.

“I’d be down,” Madison agreed and sprang up from the couch in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, this is exciting! Let me call the boys,” Madelyne exclaimed and got up, waddling weirdly with her still wet toe nails to her phone on the kitchen bar.

Your face fell for a second. That was not exactly what you had in mind. You wanted a distraction from Rudy and him dancing in a sweaty club with beautiful women wouldn’t really help your current state of emotions. But you couldn’t let the girls know that. After shooting the other day they wouldn’t shut up about how one could feel the sexual tension between the two of you and you were just happy they hadn’t seen the sex scene.

“You good?” Bailey inquired as she noticed your sour face. You were quick to plaster a fake smile on your lips.

“Yeah, I’m just tired of sitting around all the time. This will do us some good!” You headed towards the bathroom to get a shower before going out and also to have a moment to yourself to prepare for tonight.

“The boys are down as well!” You heard Maddie scream from the kitchen and then she passed by you as fast as she could to look through her wardrobe. 

“Somebody is excited,” Bailey muttered beside you but joined her friend with a grin and helped her pick out something to wear. 

A couple hours later you were dressed to kill and ready to go. Even though you loved the Outer Banks clothing style, it reminded you of your hometown, it was nice to doll-up every now and then. Madison was taking pictures of you three in the big mirror besides the entry when you heard a knock on the door.

Madelyn was quick to open it and you were met with five handsome men staring back at you.

Chase escaped a whistle when he took all three of you in but you noticed how his eyes stayed on Madelyn just a bit too long. You made sure to remember asking him about it later. 

“Well, hot damn,” Rudy exclaimed as he entered the apartment and his eyes landed on the short dresses you were wearing.

“Eyes up here,” Madison warned him with a smile and pointed to her own brown ones.

“Not fair,” Austin gasped, clearly thinking you were playing with their feelings. Maybe you were. When Bailey had proposed to impress some folks tonight you at least had a special someone in mind. Who was to say the others didn’t have too?

Your eyes wandered over the boys outfits, all dressed up and looking incredibly handsome. Rudy sported a cream sweater and a cute little beige hat. You didn’t know why he would wear a hat to go clubbing but you knew he loved them. 

“Are you ready to head out then?” Drew smiled at you in his bright yellow shirt and motioned towards the door.

You piled out the door and headed downstairs to get an uber to your favourite club.

“I’m not sure if I like you in heels, Y/N. You’re almost as tall as me,” Chase pointed out as he walked behind you and took in your much taller figure.

“You’ll just have to deal with it, I guess,” You laughed and did an immaculate pirouette on your heels, something you had practiced a thousand times in your room back home.

“Would you look at her,” Madison squealed with joy as she watched your boost of confidence and joined you by linking your hands together and strutting down the sidewalk like it was a runway. 

It felt good to really feel yourself again after your uncertain emotions. Even though you noticed how a certain male’s eyes kept looking at your and your friend’s long legs, you didn’t care at the moment. You were having fun and you deserved it. 

All of you split up into several cars and then you were on your way to La Push, a vibrating ambient establishment the cast had dug out last year while filming in Charleston. The girls swore that you would have the best night out ever at that particular club.

You were not disappointed as you took in the colourful lights shining on the rustic open brick walls and the retro bar in the corner. The ages of the people were mixed all through but you could clearly see that everybody was enjoying themselves.

“Drinks?” Deion asked and nodded towards an empty table next to the bar and you all headed in the direction through the crowded area of dancing bodies.

“Milady.” Rudy offered you his hand with a posh English accent as you were about to try mastering a step in your heels. 

“Thank you, kind sir,” You smiled at him and put your hand in his and let him help you down. You couldn’t keep yourself from curtsying as he laughed at you playing along. His hand held yours tight in his as he led you to some barstools. 

“Gin Tonic with a lemon slice for the lady?” He ordered with a questioning look in your direction once the bartender got your attention. You couldn’t believe he memorised your go-to drink, as you nodded thankfully. “And a Corona for me please,” He finished and watched the bartender tend to your order.

After he payed for both of your drinks you thanked him, almost having to scream as the music was too loud, and he grabbed your hand back in his to help you down from the stool.

“Sure thing, sugar.” He gave you that unmistakable Rudy smile and once again the butterflies in your stomach began soaring. 

You had to pull yourself together. You were here to distract yourself from him not fall deeper for his charm. Although you had to admit he was not making it easy for you. 

Your other friends had ordered at the table and were ready to clink glasses once you joined them. 

“To a great night,” JD proposed and raised his glass.

“And to great friends,” You joined in and held up your own Gin Tonic.

“Hear, hear,” Austin agreed and the whole group cheered in joyous laughter as you brought your drinks to the middle. You greeted the familiar taste of the alcohol with open arms and enjoyed the light burning you were quite used to by now. 

Once you set your glass back on the table, Bailey raised a brow at your already half empty glass and you simply shrugged your shoulders. You needed to let loose tonight. 

“Dance with me,” You screamed over the music and grabbed her hand and your drink and made your way towards the dance floor.

Madison was the best dancer you knew and she proved it to you once again after some R&B music started playing. Your hips were shaking, your arms wildly flailing around and your feet shuffling over the floor as you downed your glass quickly. You already felt slightly buzzed, maybe you should have eaten more before going out. 

Jonathan joined the two of you quickly, just as good a dancer as your dear curly friend, and together they stole the show. You watched in awe as they moved to the music so carelessly and were a bit jealous at their easy-going nature. 

“C’mon Y/N, show me what you got!” Drew encouraged you suddenly from beside you with an outstretched hand. You slipped closer to him and swayed your hips as he twirled you around in his arms and laughed as he dipped you back. Maybe the distraction would work after all. You didn’t know for how long the both of you danced but you felt absolutely weightless. 

“I’m impressed Starkey,” You admitted as he flew with you over the dance floor, not once missing the beat. 

“Could say the same about you Y/L/N but I had a feeling you would be a good dancer,” He smirked and turned you around so your back was pressed against his chest and let his hands wander to your hips. 

At this point you were on your third drink, a bit too intoxicated, and not quite sure if this scenario would play out well. Drew was the perfect gentleman and absolutely sweet and handsome. You liked him a lot but… But he wasn’t Rudy. His hands on your body didn’t feel like a wildfire and his scent didn’t drive you crazy and his smile did not make your head spin. You cursed yourself for these thoughts. 

You looked up, your eyes roaming the club for a certain blond head of hair. You noticed Chase and Maddy dancing intimately with each other in one corner but chose to ignore it, you had a different mission. 

“I’ll be right back,” You told Drew with an apologetic smile as you turned to look at him and he looked confused for a second. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

“Be careful in here, it’s better if you don’t go by yourself,” He reminded you, always the protective type, and looked out over the club probably searching for Bailey.

“I’ll be fine,” You reassured him with a pad on the chest and slipped out of his embrace towards the restrooms.

On your way there you finally found your man of the hour. To your amusement Rudy was dancing with an elderly woman to some pop song and looked like he was having the time of his life. You felt the corners of your mouth lifting as you took in the scene. 

You slipped into the restroom to freshen up as your eyes met the mirror. The carefully applied makeup from Madison was smeared under your eyes, your lipstick long gone and your hair was basically a mess. But despite all you looked happy, you looked alive. You quickly touched up your appearance and rejoined the others. 

As soon as you stepped out however you were met with quite the unpleasant sight. There was a beautiful woman next to Rudy, one arm on his biceps as she leaned forwards to say something to him. It shouldn’t bother you, you knew that he was an attractive man with many qualities. But as his hand rested on her waist your throat tightened and you felt embarrassment deep in your bones. Of course he didn’t want you the same way you did. It was just acting and you were friends, it didn’t mean anything. But it had meant something, to you anyways. And that’s what you got for giving into your feelings. You watched them laughing together, inching closer to each other each second and your heart burned in pain. 

You turned around stumbling to your table as you tried to suppress the tears welling in your eyes. How could you have been so stupid? It was a stupid crush nothing more. 

Drew’s eyes lit up as you made your way towards his sitting figure at the table next to some of your friends. You had two choices here: Going home now and giving in to your stupid irrational feelings and ruining your night. Or doing what you were here for and distract yourself with a fucking good time. The answer came to you immediately.

“I don’t know about you guys but I was thinking about some tequila!” You proposed with a big fake smile as you looked at your friends and the others cheered in chorus.

“A round of tequila shots for the table please,” Chase told the waiter and soon enough salt, limes and shot glasses filled to the brim with the transparent liquid were brought to you.

“Cheers bitches!” You clinked glasses, licked up the salt on your hand, downed the shot of the devil’s brew and bit in the sour lime and laughed at the faces the others made after finishing their own shots.

You were having a good time tonight, even if it took killing your mind to do so. Which seemed to be the only option after another round of shots and some more Gin Tonics and you still felt like shit every time your eyes met Rudy’s figure. The girl from before was long gone but you couldn’t help but feel betrayed. How did he not see that you were obviously hooked on him? 

He came back to your table were everybody was laughing and having a good time, everyone except you it seemed.

“Are you alright?” He asked and plopped down beside you, throwing his arm over the couch behind you.

“Just peachy,” You heard the slurring in your voice yourself not as clear as you wanted it to be and cringed a bit. But just because you were drunk that didn’t mean you had a problem. You were fine.

“How much did you have to drink?” He inquired concerned and you saw his forehead wrinkle. Your hand automatically reached out to brush his worry away.

“What’s it to you, sugar?” You deliberately used the nickname he had given you before and you actually saw a smirk on his face as you drew your hand away from his forehead, the sour expression gone.

“I think it’s better if I take you home,” He laughed when you fell back against the couch trying to look mad at him.

“I can take myself home, thank you very much,” You argued, your words still a bit slurred. He could take the fucking girl from before home for all you cared. He hadn’t spoken to you all night and suddenly he wanted to take care of you. That’s not how that shit worked.

“Besides,” You interrupted him as he was about to say something else, “You didn’t dance with me all night. I really wanted to dance with you,” You pouted and cursed yourself a second after you registered what slipped out your mouth. Your eyes widened and you sat back up. Maybe you had an alcohol problem after all.

“Then dance with me, sugar.” Your head whipped around as soon as you heard him. He leaned back against the couch, an easy smirk playing on his lips as he eyed your figure. He never looked sexier to you.

“Let’s go then!” You jumped from the table, a bit too fast and swaying a bit, but you had to prove something to yourself. You could easily be friends with Rudy without any sexual tension. You just had to separate him from your roles in your head.

His arm sneaked around your waist seconds after and he pulled you down towards the dance floor, making sure you didn’t miss any steps like before. The feeling of his hand around you drove you insane so you grabbed it and shove it away with a grin. You were perfectly capable of walking by yourself. He just laughed and shook his head at your swaying figure. You were not sure what exactly was so funny to him in this moment. 

His hands however found yours again quickly as he held them and twirled you around carefully, pushing and pulling you every which way. You absolutely adored him but you needed distance. God, why had you willingly agreed to dance with him? Well, it had been your idea but anyways. 

You were glad when a faster song by Lizzo started and you entangled yourself from him to sway your hips on your own. Not many knew it but you danced a lot better when you were drunk for some reason. You were a lot less uptight and celebrated every body part of yours with free flowing moves. Rudy obviously enjoyed your newfound confidence as he mirrored your carelessness to the beat and cheered for you. The both of you were singing along to the music, jumping up and down and shimmying back and forth, having the time of your life. At one point you stole his head and put it on yourself, convinced that you looked irresistible with it but Rudy just laughed and got it back before throwing to your table where Austin caught it with a grin.

“Have I told you how good you look tonight?” He screamed over the music as he pushed himself closer to your body. His scent invaded your space and you immediately forgot why you had wanted distance from him in the first place.

“Tell me again,” You giggled and got closer to him as well. The songs changed again, something more sultry and slower, maybe the Weeknd or Miguel you weren’t sure as your attention was directed at yet another man.

“You look absolutely radiant,” He breathed and his alcoholic breath mingled with yours that’s how close you were.

Rudy’s hands found your waist again and this time you didn’t push him away. The opposite, you rested your hands on his broad chest, feeling his fast beating heart under your right hand. He pulled you closer as you were obviously giving in to him and swayed his hips against yours, the movement making your head spin.

“Are you drunk?” You asked him. You needed him to be sober so at least one of you would remember this moment tomorrow after everything else faded away. You needed him to remember how your bodies felt pressed together in this moment. How your hearts were beating in synch to the bass rocking through you. 

“Absolutely intoxicated,” He answered with a straight, sexy voice. He didn’t sound drunk to you but his words proved you different. 

“Maybe we should-“ You stopped mid sentence as you pulled back and saw his hungry eyes directed at your lips. Whatever you wanted to say left your senses in that very second.

“…stop?” Rudy finished your sentence questioning but not making any moves to stop any of this, whatever this was. “I don’t ever want to stop. I just wanna spend forever getting high off what it feels like to be around you.”

Your breath caught at his words and your eyes slipped from his lips to his blue eyes, illuminated by the club lights occasionally. You saw the hunger in them, the unmistakable lust that was a hundred percent mirrored in your own y/e/c eyes.

He described perfectly what if felt like to be around him, like you were high, intoxicated by him. And that feeling, you never wanted it to end. 

“I’m drunk…” You told him but let out the ‘on you’ part that definitely was a part of this sentence.

“I know, me too. And I know we shouldn’t do anything that we might regret tomorrow,” He took a deep breath and one of his hands cupped your face. “But I can’t stay away from you any longer.”

“I feel the same,” You admitted and bit your lip to keep a smile from showing on your face. But it didn’t matter as Rudy’s lips moved into a grin.

“If two people can’t stay away from each other, maybe they aren’t supposed to.” You nearly groaned at his annoying habit of always being able to say the perfect thing at the right time. 

You moved closer to him, your arms slung around his neck and your hips still slowly moving to the music. Your eyelids dropped as your mouth longed for his, feeling his breath on your lips.

Unexpectedly soft his mouth landed on yours, so different from the kisses you shared on set. His lips slowly moved with yours, taking his time to get used to the feeling. And even though the heat from the other times lacked it was no less passionate. You poured every fibre of your being into kissing him and really feeling him. He tasted like tequila and forbidden dreams and if you weren’t drunk before, you definitely were now.

Rudy became more needy as the kiss went on, his lips moving faster and his hands pulling you closer against him. When his teeth caught your lower lip you were done for. Without any regard for reason you gave into him. His tongue slipped into your mouth battling with yours for dominance. Your mouths bumped clumsily against each other as you were smiling into the kiss, teeth biting here and there occasionally but you couldn’t care less. You had waited for this for too long to show any signs of hesitation. After what felt like an eternity you pulled apart, breathing heavily. Your eyes locked and it felt like ecstasy was coursing through your veins.

“There you are! We’ve been looking for you for at least an hour.” You were thrown into ice-cold water as JD’s voice pulled you back into reality. You looked at him, the rest of your friends heading towards the door. Rudy and you shuffled apart awkwardly and fixed yourself a little. Your short dress had ridden up and his hair was all over the place.

“C’mon guys, we’re leaving!” Chase shouted from afar.

Your eyes wandered to Rudy, a content smile lying on his swollen lips as he stared at the floor. His hand slipped around yours and he pulled you after him, walking backwards so he could look at you.

“Our little secret,” He said with a wink and cupped your cheek in his other hand, before pecking your lips once again secretly and then following the others outside and to the Ubers taking you back to your flats.

You were still not fully understanding what had just happened, if it was all a feverish dream caused by the alcohol. But every time you thought that this could only be in your imagination Rudy’s hand on your thigh or around your waist pulled you back into reality. This was no longer part of a role, this was real life. And you would enjoy every second of it.

Tags: @lovelymaybankk @sspidermanss @1d5sosddl @arthiriticcricket @teamnick @lieswithoutfairytales @styles-xoxo @normatural @k-k0129 @mileven-reddie @perfektionsmakel @1-800-imagines @http-cherries @golden-eroda @outofstyles13 @jj-maybank-stan @fandom-phaser @hopelesswritingxd @teenwaywardasgardian @poguecollins @jjswhore @xpastel-kawaiix @styles-edward-harry @rollinsstuff @obx-baby @masintahin @floretsoleil @ivebeenthinkingboutu @fandomxreaders @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @pookie-cleary @kiarascarreras @runway-to-my-aid @saturnspack @sunshinemadds @hucklebaefinn @baileythepenguin @spider6oy @whoreforouterbanks​ @diego-klaus-hargreeves​

(I hope I didn’t miss anyone! If you’re not on here but would like to be send me a quick message xx)

[ambertea]

chocolate

(read on AO3)

The air was thick with excitement, the city alive under the heavy beat of the sun. Market traders lined the streets, their carts heavy with summer fruits, shouting out prices and batting away flies. Women clustered in groups, trading gossip in hushed, excited whispers. They clutched each other by the elbows as they doubled over with laughter, beautiful, vibrant dresses rippling in the wind. Men were joking in loud shouts, their faces wrinkled and animated. Children ducked and dived under the cover of the adults, unaware or uncaring of the world around them, screaming at each other.

The Doctor clutched at her hand, and his mouth broke into a large and jubilant grin. “Venice! 1960s.” He announced. Rose frowned, eying two teenage girls snapping a selfie on an iPhone.

“You sure?” She laughed. His eyebrows knit together, and he tugged her forwards.

“Nope. Not even slightly.”

“Of course.” She grinned, leaning into his coat.

He pulled her out of the flurry of the crowd and gestured at a small, dark cafe. Wicker chairs lined the entrance, circling wobbling glass tables. Rose looked up at the sign and gasped.

“A chocolate café?”

“Oh yes!” He cried, his eyes sparkling. “Marvellous invention, those. Humans, honestly. Takes you thousands of years to cure deadly diseases but when it comes to food? You’re the most innovative species in the universe.”

She giggled at his exasperated eye roll and then beamed when he pulled out a chair. Sitting down, she watched him frown as he searched through his pocket.

"Aha!" He cried, pulling out a red tartan blanket. He draped it across her shoulders, letting his arms circle and then embrace her from behind. He tucked his head next to hers, his stubble tickling her cheek, and she felt his smile.

"Don't want you to get cold."

“Thanks,” she breathed. He pressed his lips against her jaw and then straightened, cheeks burning.

“Right! Hot chocolate!”

He disappeared into the store, and Rose let her fingers dance over her face. He had been touching her more recently, embracing her at even the slightest excuse. The kisses were especially new. They scattered across her face, her hands, and on one notable occasion, her neck.

He never kissed her on the lips, but she had noticed him eying them several times. A little dubious, but still hopeful, she'd taken to wearing lip gloss and pouting as much as she could.

She wasn't sure when the new physical familiarity had started, but she was grateful for it. Life with the Doctor had always been good, but recently she had been in a constant state of euphoria. The universe had been uncharacteristically kind. Every planet they visited had been stable, every person was happy and kind. It felt like a holiday from their usual lives, which was ridiculous. Even her worst days with him were extraordinary.

The Doctor nudged the door open with his knee, brandishing two steaming cups of hot chocolate. She reached out, eying the pile of marshmallows peaking from the top, but he batted her away.

"Very, very hot." He explained, carefully settling the cup in front of her. "Don't want you burning yourself."

"Wouldn't be able to hold hands for ages."

"A travesty." He grinned.

She took a cautious sip of the chocolate, and immediately groaned. The flavour exploded on her tongue, rich velvet flavours seeping through her mouth.

"You sure we're on Earth? This is amazing."

“Nope!” He said, slurping up a marshmallow. “No idea, not really. Smells like Earth though.”

Rose took a deep sniff and frowned. "All I can smell is those bins."

“That’s Earth!” He cheered. She rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a thick, leather-bound book, and Rose groaned.

“No. Not again.”

“Please?” He said, jutting his lip forward. Rose pursed her lips, trying to keep the giddy joy off her face.

“Fine then. But only one.”

He nodded seriously, but his lips quirked into a smile. “You’ve got a deal, Rose Tyler.”

She sat back and closed her eyes, trying to memorise this feeling, this moment. When she was a kid, her wildest dream had been getting off the estate. It was difficult to believe, sometimes, that she'd been so lucky.  Her younger self never had the words to wish for something like this. She hadn't even felt the full spectrum of her emotion available to her, didn't know it was possible to be this happy.

Her eyes cracked open, and she watched his pencils whizz across the paper. It had been shocking at first, watching him draw with two hands. He had scoffed at her surprise–"some of us use more than 3% of our brains, you know"–but it was still peculiar to witness.

His eyes settled on her mouth, and she smiled awkwardly under his attention.

“There it is,” he grinned, turning his attention back to the paper.

He drew for a little longer and threw his pencils on the table. He held up the book to the side of her face, the pages tickling her face, and hummed.

“Come on, let me see it.”

He shook his head, flinging the book shut and leaning on it with his elbows. “I’m too shy.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, reaching out and trying to grab it. “You are not.”

“I haven’t got the details right yet.” He joked, slapping away her hands. She kept trying until they were waving their arms at each other, trying to slip in quick slaps. He grabbed her hand and then swung it between them.

“Please?” She asked, making her eyes widen and her lips pout. He groaned and dropped her hand, frowning over a pointed finger.

“You are not allowed to use that face anymore.”

“You don’t like my face?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine then. No critiques please, I’m still hurt after last time.”

“You told me you were drawing my mum, and you drew a slitheen.”

“Yes, well.” He sniffed, flicking through the book until he found the right page. “Artistic licence.”

He pushed the book towards her, and she stared, her mouth dropping open. He had drawn her before, but she could never quite get past the gentle, smooth lines, the way he was so open on the page. She had seen her own face in countless mirrors, hundreds of photographs, but never had she seen herself looking quite like this.

“Beautiful.” She murmured, running her finger over the paper.

“Yes.” He whispered, his hand reaching out to cover her own.

His eyes burnt into her own with a strange, intense look that stole the air from her lungs. He wasn’t blinking—or perhaps time had slowed down, she wasn’t sure. He tightened his grip on her hand and leaned in, and she let her eyes fall shut as his mouth grew closer to hers.

They shot open when she felt his tongue on her nose.

“What. Are you doing.”

He pulled away, tongue darting across his lips. “You had chocolate on your nose!”

“Right.” She choked, trying to suck in some air. “Of course.”

She fixed her eyes on her mug, praying she hadn't made him uncomfortable. There was silence for a moment, and then his chair scraped across the ground. Confused, she looked up at him, trying to discern his expression.

He leaned down, eyeing her cautiously, and gently pressed his lips to hers. For a moment, she stayed motionless, but then yanked him closer by the lapels, smiling against his lips.

Her hands slid through his hair–God, wonderful hair–and then settled on the back of his neck. He was grasping at her back, pressing himself closely against her.

He pulled back and studied her, his eyes dark and fiery. She flushed and tried to avoid his gaze. Raw emotion was buzzing under her skin, trying to explode outwards, and her heart was dancing in her ears. His hand cupped the bottom of her chin and tilted her face towards his.

His lips stayed shut, but she could see the I love you in his eyes, feel it in the gentle touch of his hand. She nodded, and he sighed, the air tickling her nose. He kissed her again, softer now, and lingering until they were just touching lips.

“You taste like chocolate.” He whispered. She smiled.

“Is that why you kissed me?”

“Wellll…” he replied, kissing her once more, quickly, and then settling back in his chair. “Was an idea. My two favourite things.”

“Chocolate and kissing?” She asked and he laughed.

“No, chocolate and Rose Tyler.”

She picked up her cup and drank deeply. He watched her, his eyes greedily flickering across her face. His lips were shiny under her lipstick, and his hair was sticking up in every direction.

“Maybe,” she pondered. “We should get some to take away.”

He thrust the book in his pocket and nodded wildly.

“Excellent.”

The cafe door banged behind him as he shot in, and she giggled as she watched him talking wildly to the poor barista.

Somehow, her perfect life had gotten even better.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[alicemitch09writes]

lame

01.

it was supposed to be us against the world

It was just a normal Tuesday for you, the scorching sun was out, seeping whatever energy you had for today, class had just ended, and you were treading the thought of having to work later that day. But hey, girl’s gotta fend for herself, right?

Just as you arrived at the station, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Lazily taking it out, your (e/c) eyes scanned the text before shooting wide open, you instantly took off, never minding work, thoughts flying to one thing - Izuku.

For such a prestigious school, it sure had a lousy way of being indiscreet if it were located on top of a hill. Winded from the trip, barely feeling your legs, drenched completely in sweat from the trek, a hero awaited for you at the gate, giving you instructions on how to get to your location (he figured to give it straight to you, judging from your harried breathing and frazzled state alone).

Finding the clinic, you all but burst into the room, eyes easily finding curly green locks. "Izuku!"

Green eyes widened at the sight of you, taking the sight of you. "(Nickname)-!? H-How did you-"

"Are you alright?!"

Flinching at the pitch, tone, and of the overall worry painting your features, he all but gave you a sheepish look whilst rubbing the back of his head. That didn't help, but at least seeing him now in the bed was making your worries lessen.

“He’ll be fine, I’ve treated the worst of his injuries.” The small lady- hero, Recovery Girl, tells you from where she sat. “He just woke up and has made a full recovery now!”

Allowing yourself to sigh in relief, you collapsed by his bed, legs pressed against the cool tiled-floor, eyeing the green-haired boy with narrowed eyes.

"Really, Izuku, you better take better care of yourself."

A scarred hand reached out to pat your shoulder, seeping away the tiredness of practically storming all the way here. "I know, (Nickname). I'm sorry for worrying you..."

Once Recovery Girl assured you that she was to see your best friend fit, you allowed yourself to rest a while before making sure that his recovery was done. You would have loved to wait until he got better, so you can leave, but you had to report to work, even for just a bit then head home to change. Giving your best friend an apologetic look, Izuku nodded in understanding and you reluctantly complied to leave. But not without giving him a parting hug.

“Really, you have to stop giving me a heart attack,” you warned him, teasingly, earning a laugh from the green-haired boy. “I’ll be over for dinner later, okay?”

At that, his eyes brightened. “I’ll be sure to tell mom! She’ll surely be happy to have you over.”

“And I look forward to Auntie’s cooking!”

With one last wave at your best friend, a polite-grateful bow to the school nurse, you turned to the door.

Once out, however, you were face to face with the last person you wanted to see. You ignored him, bent on getting out of here. There was nothing to be said. Absolutely nothing. And it was better off that way.

“Ta-dah!”

“Uwah!!!” big green eyes – matching the shade of his wild curly locks, widened.

“What is it, what is it?” a small blond boy ran towards them excitedly, especially at the excitement at the tone of his two precious friends. “So, what is it?” he asked, head tilted in question at the object in hand.

Grinning toothily, the young girl placed it atop curly locks, flowers intertwined with each other, the green camouflaging with the boy’s locks, as though the flowers sprouted from his hair. “It’s a flower crown, silly!”

“Che, and I was excited for nothing,” the blond boy’s cheeks puffed. Carmine eyes glared at the object on his friend’s hair. “So girly…”

Miffed, the (h/c) girl’s tiny fists balled, stomping her foot. “W-Well duh, because I am a girl!”

“Yeah right!” teased the blond, scratching the underside of his nose, angering the girl as she began to growl.

“Hey, no fighting now…” the small green-haired boy called out to his friends. “…please?”

The two looked at him, then at each other before parting away, the girl’s arms crossed.

“W-Well, if Izuku says so! I’ll forgive you this time, Katsuki!”

Carmine eyes narrowed; cheeks puffed as they reddened to slowly match his eyes. “W-Whatever!”

At that, Izuku smiled, getting to his feet to grab the hands of his best friends. Smiles appearing on his other friend’s faces.

“Ah, by the way!” the (h/c) girl suddenly cried out, alarming the two boys. Heading towards the pile of flowers she was fiddling with earlier, she took something from the ground, keeping her hands behind her as she walked up to the blond boy. “N-Ne, Katsuki, g-give me your hand…”

“…what? No way!”

“Come on, just give me your hand!”

“No way, you might give me a bug!”

“No, I won’t!”

“Then you might just prank me!”

“Didn’t I say that I wouldn’t?”

“How would I know if you’re telling the truth!”

“If you just give me your hand!”

Stuck in between another argument, the green-haired boy could only laugh at their antics.

“K-Katsuki, please?”

She widened her eyes on purpose, pouting purposely to jut out her lower lip, it was all it took for the young blond to cave in. Also, she did say ‘please’.

Reluctantly, stretched out his hand watching as she happily reached for it, her hand now in his. His cheeks reddened, not that he’d say it out loud and chose to frown. “Alright, now close your eyes!” Not wanting to argue, he did as was asked, without putting up a fight. At first, he heard Izuku gasp and she quickly shushed him, almost excitedly, before he felt something slip into his ring finger. “Okay, now open!”

The first thing he saw were (eye color) orbs so big and bright – filled with excitement and joy before his eyes fell unto the object in his hand. The flowers were just as wild and vibrant as Izuku’s, except his was more but fit to wrap around his stubby fingers.

“Wow, (Nickname), it’s so pretty! You’re amazing!”

Chubby cheeks flushed at that, turning to him expectantly. “D-Do you like it?” came her quiet voice.

Silence.

Green and (hair color) heads turned to each other, sharing a look. The taller girl was about to ask again but stopped head tilting. Beside her, the green-haired boy’s mouth formed into an ‘o’, hands slapping against his freckled cheeks.

“K-Katsuki, are you turning-“

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” screamed the boy, messing his hair with his free hand before turning to the girl, a look of determination in his eyes as he pointed, using the hand with the ring flower. “W-W-When we get older, I-I’ll get you the biggest, shiniest, prettiest wedding ring, you hear me!?”

“Kacchan…”

“And Deku!” he turned to the green-haired boy, no longer irked by the flower crown. “You’re going to be my best man, got it?”

Realizing his outburst, the two friends burst into laughter, the blond’s face heating even more.

“Stop laughing at me! Deku! (Name)!”

“Auntie, you didn’t have to prepare so much!” you call out to Auntie Inko, eyes wide like saucers when you saw the meal served at the table.

Meal wasn’t even the word to put it, it was more like a feast! The Midoriya matriarch had prepared spaghetti, karaage, tempura shrimp, grilled eel, salad, and some side dishes. Basically, it was a lot of protein and carbs.

“Nonsense, (Name)-chan! It’s been a while since I last saw you,” she says kindly as you take a seat. “also, this is to celebrate Izuku’s good performance at school, so he can now rest easy for summer break.”

“Thank you so much, mom!” Izuku flusters, especially when she says it so easily in front of their guest as if you’re not used to it.

“Oh, Izuku, still that flustered momma’s boy, huh?”

“(N-Nickame)!”

Laughing, the three of you begin to dig in, exchanging stories about school, your part-time job, some funny customer Auntie Inko had to deal with earlier at the office (she was a government employee), your grandfather, and his dojo. It was always so comforting having dinners with the Midoriyas, always so warm.

Volunteering to help with the dishes, the two youngsters continued to catch up, talking about just about anything. It was always easy to talk with Izuku, always refreshing to be in his presence and hear his thoughts about things.

“Eh? So, you’re classmates with the son of Endeavour?”

“Yes! And his quirk is amazing! He’s half-cold and half-hot.”

“How does that even work?”

“Well, he’s in a constant state of homeostasis to balance out both quirks.”

“Must be hard to manage 24/7 then.”

“That’s true. But with enough practice, he may be able to stabilize both quirks to be able to do more, especially because it can be a double-whammy to villains who might not expect from someone capable of managing two quirks at the same time, there’s also the fact that he can be able to maneuver better should he master his other side…”

The kitchen slowly filled with his ramblings as the last of the dishes were taken care of, which you didn’t seem to mind. It always fun to hear him ramble, knowing that there was a big brain beneath his curly green locks. He was like a walking encyclopedia.

When the clock struck 9, you had announced that you were off, lest you worry your dear grandfather. Izuku volunteered to walk you home.

“Ah, please wait a minute, (Name)-chan!” Aunt Inko shouted when the two of you were at the front entrance, rushing towards you both with a few Tupperware in hand – leftovers from dinner.

“Oh my! Auntie Inko, thank you so much!”

She smiled at you, reaching up to caress your cheek. “Please drop by for dinner more often, (Name)-chan, okay?”

The hand was soft and warm against your cheek, calming your heart with love washing over you. Nodding, silently promising the older woman, you turned to Izuku, who opened the door for you.

“Good night, Auntie Inko!”

Once the two of you reached the neighborhood, you couldn’t help but stare off at the playground – still the same as before, but the paint’s probably new. You could almost picture out three kids running around, chasing each other merrily.

“Man, your mom really didn’t have to put up a feast.”

Laughing, Izuku scratched his cheek as he replied. “Well, she does like to go out whenever she can. Plus, it’s not always (Nickname) comes over for dinner. Also, I’ve been increasing my diet lately because of my quirk.”

Ah, his newly acquired quirk. “Come to think of it, you have been getting bulkier since the last I saw you.”

“Well, I have to compensate mass for all the power I’ve acquired.”

The matter of his quirk piqued your interest, especially because of how much it’s taking a toll on your friend. Instead of backing down, he readily worked his way to accommodate such power.

“True,” you nod, turning to him, realizing he’s grown several inches taller as well, you couldn’t help but giggle. “that and because you’re probably finally hitting puberty.”

“E-Eh!?”

“Dude, you used to be my height!” you tell him, gesturing with your hand your height. “Now, you’re…well, not really that huge, but the growth rate is a bit alarming, to say the least.”

Suddenly, he was sweating bullets, looking between relief and mild panic. “A-Ah…puberty…yes, m-must be th-that a-an-and i-i-it’s side-effects on t-th-the quirk- my quirk!” And there’s his stuttering. Still adorable.

Nudging him with your shoulder, you were quick to assure him. “There, there,” deciding to just sling your arm around his, you leaned on him comfortingly “you’ll always be cry baby Izuku to me!”

“(Nickname)!”

“Or was it wimpy Izuku?”

“(Nickname), please…”

Despite the name-calling, they were all in good fun. A comfortable silence filled in, nothing needed to be said as you two walked around the quiet streets of Musutafu.

For the first time since you were kids, you were apart because you went to different high schools, it hurt because you two were always together and you were each other’s shoulder to lean on. Technology had a great way of bridging you two together, keeping each other up to date on the other’s lives. But nothing beat direct communication with the ones you loved and you relished nothing more than these small moments with your best friend.

“By the way, (Nickname),” Izuku’s voice suddenly cut through the silence. “how is your grandfather? Couldn’t he have dropped by for dinner as well?”

At the mention of your grandfather, you couldn’t help your expression from souring. “Eh, let him be, he’s probably off watching reruns of those tournament matches to prepare. He wants to rough up the team to tough shape.” Despite his age, your grandfather had quite the build and was the martial arts coach at your high school (don’t ask which martial arts specifically, he knows them all).

“That’s true, he might want to challenge me at the front entrance door before dinner started.”

“And your mom would cry a planet at the devastation left between you two.”

It would be quiet the image, knowing how strong both your grandfather and Izuku was, and then Auntie Inko would be comically crying about in the background.

“Oh, and I’ll just watch because no way am I coming between you monsters, while comforting Auntie Inko.”

As the image progressed, the two of you giggled amongst yourselves, the two of you were nearing a lamppost, resting comfortably against his arm, when a presence before you made the two of you stop.

A blond teen came into view, halting at the sight of both of you. Dressed lazily in his home clothes, with a plastic bag filled with items he got from the convenience store.

Instantly, the laughter died out from you, lips set into a thin line.

“K-Kacchan…” stuttered the teen beside you, gulping at the tense air. “…g-good evening.”

Said teen could only blink, carmine eyes taking in the sight of both of you. Something glinted soon after.

Eyes narrowing, you gently tugged at Izuku’s sleeve, continuing your journey, dismissing the blond completely. The two of you walked past the blond, who slowly began to move when you did, starting a new conversation about Izuku’s homeroom teacher, anything to block off that one person who was forever dead to you.

(Blocks away, the blond stopped in his path, hands still balled into fists, glare fixed to the ground, while a gentle laugh coming from a gentle smile relayed in his head. They weren’t for him.

“Fuck.”)

Midoriya Izuku and Bakugo Katsuki were both your childhood friends.

They were both the first friends you made ever since moving into their town.

To be fair though, Bakugo was your first friend. He then introduced you to the green-haired boy a few days later.

Since then, the three of you grew close, were inseparable, and always played together. There was never a day when the three of you were not with the other, always ensuring to include the other whenever there was a new game to play, a new kid to befriend, or an adventure to go off to.

Bakugo had always been the leader of the three since he had such a strong personality and presence even at the age of 5. He was quick to protect the two of you and command whatever new stuff you were to do.

Izuku was his opposite, submissive, soft, and shy. Nonetheless, he had a very strong sense of justice, even when he seemed to cry a lot, and was recklessly impulsive.

And then there was you, the new girl – quiet, unassuming, tomboy. Sometimes, you liked to pretend to be the mom of the two boys, the big sister, the glue that kept you three together – but you and Katsuki knew that it was Izuku, really.

Regardless, you could always count on the two. Bakugo, especially.

He was the front liner to push you to do things you want to do, uncaring of the fact that you were a girl, because it was a minor detail to all the amazing things you could do – like catch a bug, run like the wind, play under the rain, climb trees, give bullies a beating when they were picking on Izuku, play video games, to name a few. (In addition, you were into martial arts, because it was in the family)

It was because you were so close to Bakugo that you picked up on cursing, much to the shock of dear Izuku’s innocent baby ears. You couldn’t help being a tomboy because of the fact that your best friends were guys and games the blond would instigate, you loved to challenge him in just about anything – especially at claiming to be Izuku’s bestest friend.

Still, whenever you fell or scraped your knee, it was Bakugo who’d lend a hand, angrily berate you on being reckless, before picking you from the ground or giving you a piggyback – Izuku would cry all the way, worried about your state and the possible scolding from your parents and grandfather.

You three were supposed to stick together, stay inseparable, always with each other.

That is until Bakugo discovered his quirk, followed by Izuku discovering that he was quirkless.

And ever since then, everything changed.

masterlist • two

[doctorthreephds]

Synapses: Part 5

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 2.7k

TW: Hospitals

Summary: You finally find the courage to confess your love. And then some. 

A/N: Just a note! This is the last part! Thanks so much everyone that’s been along for the ride. Enjoy <3!

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @green-intervention @eevee0722​ @jessicarabbit09​ @nazifa94​ 

The darkness surrounds you in a comforting blanket as a ray of light shines brightly, compelling you to walk toward it. At this point, you aren’t controlling your body as you’re sucked into the light, finding yourself at the small apartment in Paris that you lived in growing up. Cars beep outside the open windows as the warm summer air blows into the room.

“Mom?” you call out and walk into the living room, seeing your mom sip on a glass of wine by the window.

“Ah, my love. Come sit with me,” she says and you frown, taking a seat across from her.

“Am I dead?” you ask, looking out the window to see the Eiffel Tower shining bright above the city.

“No, you’re just healing. You came close though, it was stupid of you to stray away from that handsome boy of yours,” she winks at you as you turn to take her all in. She is as beautiful as the day she died and you take a sip of water from the other glass on the table.

“Spencer’s not my boy. He’s just a friend,” you state and shake your head.

“Ah, that’s not what I heard when you were on the phone with that tech friend of yours,” she puts down her glass and turns to look at you full on. For a moment, you’re able to imagine that you’re back in college, home for the summer after your Freshman year and enjoying the lovely Parisian summer. 

“If I’m not dead, then why am I here? Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you,” you smile and take her hand the feeling of her touch grounding you in the moment. 

“I’m here because I need to tell you that it’s time to live your life, my dear. Don’t let fear and grief hold you back from loving Spencer to the fullest. He’s just as scared as you are, but the two of you can have a beautiful life together,” she says and you feel tears begin to form in your eyes. You missed this, you missed her. The motherly wisdom that she could always impart on you, you missed everything about her.

“I’m scared,” you mutter, your voice cracking as the tears begin to fall down your cheeks.

“I know. But you’re not alone, you’re never alone. Don’t isolate yourself, you deserve more than that,” she takes your hand and places a kiss on the back of it as something begins to beep in the background.

“I love you!” you tell her before everything disappears. But it doesn’t matter. You know she loves you. 

A constant beeping wakes you from your sleep. As you take a deep breath, there is a soreness in your chest but no pain. Opening your eyes, the bright halogen lights blind you for a moment before your pupils adjust. You make out a figure sitting beside you, the familiar view of your father as he writes in his little black notebook. 

“Hi, Dad,” you croak out, your throat dry from the day before.

“Piccolo mio,” he stands up and walks over to your bedside, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Welcome back,” Dr. Kimura says as she walks over to stand in front of your bed. 

“Did you get the guy?” you ask and slowly try to sit up in the bed, your father nodding. “How’s Abby?”

“She’s on the mend. So are the three others. The strain and its cure are getting locked up in containment at Fort Deitrick. With all the other bio-agents people don’t know about,” Dr. Kimura states as you nod, feeling the warmth of your father’s hand in yours.

“I don’t want to know what else they might have locked up in there,” your father states and you shake your head at the thought. After studying toxicology for years, you knew that there were countless harmful substances that the government had to know about. It was inevitable. 

“I’ll leave you to rest. You should be able to be discharged soon once we monitor your progress and ensure you’ll be okay with the antibiotics,” Dr. Kimura smiles and leaves to tend to other patients while you look back at your dad.

“Where’s Spencer?” you ask.

“Send him to go take a shower and eat some decent food, he’d stayed all night,” your dad tells you and your heart warms in your chest as the aforementioned person walks through the ICU door. 

“You’re awake!” Spencer’s eyes light up as he sees you and walks over to the other side of your bed, a tray of coffee in hand.

“I’ll let you two talk,” your dad says as he grabs a cup from the tray and walks out, taking a sip.

Spencer gently hands you a cup, the tepid drink helping to warm your hands. Taking a sip, you deeply inhale all the smells and spices in the drink, lighting up when you realize it’s your favorite coffee from the cafe by the bookstore.

“It’s my favorite,” you remark and shyly smile up at Spencer who looks away bashfully.

“I wanted you to have something comforting when you woke up,” he mumbles and takes his own cup, sipping on it. There is a blanket of silence and comfort as your memory surfaces. You were ready to confess your love to Spencer as you were dying, but you were alive and well and he didn’t know. 

You think back to the countless days of eating together at his desk during lunch or traveling around to bookstores all over D.C. to try and find first editions. It wasn’t only these things that made you love him, it was his passion for learning. He was always learning and adapting, his mind working overtime like a computer that never turned off. 

Spencer also had a heart big enough to fill stadiums full of love, he cared so deeply for people even if he didn’t know how to show it. But, even if people don’t understand him, he shows his love in many ways. With this coffee, with the way that he brings treats to his friends when they are under the weather or sharing jokes and facts that make you laugh in a tense moment. There was so much to love about him, his mismatched socks and the fact that he could read several books in a day. The fact that he loves watching all sorts of movies and dresses like an old man but takes his coffee with the sweetness of a child’s palate. He is afraid of germs but doesn’t mind holding your hand when it’s cold or hugging you after you spend a Saturday together. Perhaps it was finally time you cemented your love for him.

“I love you,” you state and look up at his face, taking another sip of your coffee. Spencer freezes in place and your palms begin to sweat. Did you judge him wrong? Maybe he only loved you as a friend.

“Say it again,” he says and puts his coffee down, only to take your hand in his.

“I love you,” a smile grows on your face as he cups your face and places a big kiss on your forehead. A laugh bubbles out of your chest as your heart soars.

“I love you too,” it feels as if a weight lifts from your chest as you wrap your free arm around his waist and hug him tight. It’s a little bit awkward with all the wires attached to you and the nasal cannula, but no ounce of discomfort can match the joy that fills your entire body. 

“Ah, bravo. The two of you finally got past all your pining,” your father enters the room and you blush, hiding your face in Spencer’s chest. “Don’t break her heart because I could kill you and get away with it.”

“Dad!” your eyes widen and you stare at your father in shock as he shakes his head.

“I’m kidding. There is no better match made in heaven than the two of you nerds. Took you long enough, though. I married your mother and divorced her in the timespan that the two of you were dancing around each other,” he says and checks his watch. “I have to get to my reports, but I assume you can take her home when she’s discharged?”

Spencer nods and your father bids the two of you farewell, kissing you on the forehead before leaving. Humming softly, your eyes begin to droop as the medicine continues to course through your veins. 

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Spencer plants another kiss on your forehead as you lie back and succumb to the alluring pull of sleep.

A couple of months later.

Waking up on the morning of your birthday, you try to bite back the disappointment of no messages and no calls. You expected something from your dad at least, an exciting text talking about how he had a bottle of wine with your name on it, but nothing. Shaking your head, you look out to the beautiful D.C. skyline and bottle it all up. You would be mad later. For now, you could enjoy being a year older. 

After grabbing a cup of your favorite drink from the local cafe and getting onto the metro, the day appears to be going alright, if not a bit disheartening. The air was beautifully crisp and your outfit was empowering so it was enough to get a jumpstart on your day. 

When you finally arrive at the Bureau and take the elevator up to your floor, your phone still not buzzing or ringing. It was fine, you had work to do anyway. You work swiftly and quietly to yourself, getting in the zone as you look at some evidence and analyze a couple of things in the lab. Working through reports, you find yourself forgetting about the fact that your genius boyfriend had forgotten your birthday. You guess that even people with eidetic memories can forget sometimes. Even with the distraction of paperwork, there was a small sting in the back of your chest. 

Snacking throughout the day, your stomach growls once you pack up and feel your emotions begin to boil over when your phone is void of any notifications. Birthdays tend to be disappointing mostly because of the expectation associated with them, but you didn’t expect to so disregarded. Just as the tears begin to form in your eyes, you get into the elevator and feel your phone vibrate in your hand.

From Spencer (6:36PM):

I’m waiting in front to pick you up. <3 

As you wipe a few rogue tears from your cheek, you frown and exit the elevator, walking out to the front entrance. Just where he said he would be, Spencer is sitting in his car looking out to you with a goofy grin on his face. You smile slightly and open the car to see a small package waiting on the passenger seat.

“What’s this?” you ask and climb into the car, placing the present on your lap.

“You didn’t think we forgot, did you?” he asks and reaches over to place a sweet kiss on your lips. You take his hand in yours and kiss back, pulling away slightly to look at him for the first time today.

“I mean, I didn’t get any messages,” you mumble and smile a bit sadly.

“Penelope would never forgive me,” he says before turning back forward and beginning to drive. “Now let’s go before we’re late.”

“Where are we going?” you ask and look over at him.

“It’s a surprise,” he states and you shake your head, looking out at the window as you get onto the freeway.

“Can I guess?” 

“Of course you can, but I’m not going to tell you,” he glances over and squeezes your hand before turning back to the road.

“Is it my dad’s house?” you ask and watch as Spencer licks his lips. “It’s totally my dad’s house, you just licked your lips.”

“What?” Spencer lets go of your hand to place both hands on the wheel. “That doesn’t mean yes or no.”

“No, but you’re nervous and that’s what you do when you’re in deep thought, so it’s totally my dad’s house,” you state smugly and readjust yourself in the seat, a huge grin on your face. The rest of the ride is filled with your bickering as the dulcet tones of Beethoven playing in the background. It’s oddly picturesque, but your chest is warm with the idea of this being the rest of your life. Spencer was it for you.

As you drive through your father’s neighborhood and make it to his mansion, you feel nervously excited seeing all the cars in the driveway. You could make out almost everyone’s car, sans JJ. She probably had to go see Will and Henry or was on her way with the two of them.

Stepping out of the car, Spencer’s present in hand, he moves to walk behind you with his hands in front of your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he carefully guides you to the front door. 

“What do you think the radio silence was for? It’s a surprise!” he remarks as the door swings open in front of you.

“Surprise!” several voices ring out as Spencer’s hands wrap around your waist. In front of you is your father, Derek, Penelope, Emily, and Hotch. Your father walks forward and wraps you in a huge hug, squeezing you tight.

“Happy birthday, piccolo!” your chest hurts a little from how tightly he squeezes you but he is quickly replaced with the loving arms of Penelope. Her hugs are the warmest and the tightest so you feel like your lungs might collapse.

“Happy birthday!” she says and you shake your head, looking around.

“Why all the cloak and dagger? I kind of assumed we’d all be spending it together,” you look around at everyone as you and Spencer step into the foyer.

“You’ll see,” Penelope’s eyebrows wiggle as she loops her arm around yours and drags you to the kitchen. There, a whole meal is laid out as well as a beautiful cake and presents on a small table off to the side. Streamers and banners are hanging all over the house, probably courtesy of Penelope, and everyone fills in around the island.

“Bon appetit!” your father announces and everyone begins to dig in and find their way to the table outside in your dad’s backyard. The night was clear and everyone makes small talk as you enjoy your food. 

In the moonlight, Spencer is stunning and you feel your heart skip a beat. He had to have helped orchestrate this entire thing, but you can’t help but wonder why it was all kept a secret. After eating, Derek and Emily bring out the many presents on the table.

Penelope gifts you a beautiful picture frame with a photo of everyone on the night you celebrated your new job and Derek gives you a photo of a bookshelf he built for all the new books you had bought. 

“What’s this for?” you ask.

“You’ll see,” he responds as you open up Hotch’s gift. It’s a larger rug, one that you didn’t need because you had decorated your apartment well. Emily gives you a record player and your father gifts you a wine bottle holder.

“What’s all this for? I don’t have anywhere to put it,” you let out a nervous laugh as your dad points at the small box that is Spencer’s gift.

Glancing over at your boyfriend he smiles nervously back at you as you pick up his present and peel back the brown paper it’s wrapped in. You pull out a beautiful gold key and a little note that says ‘Move in with me?’ As the words process, you are quickly overwhelmed with joy as you wrap Spencer up in your arms.

“Of course I will, you doofus,” you mumble and hug him tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck. Pulling back, you press your lips to his sweetly and laugh as everyone claps around you. If fireworks could go off, they would be sparkling behind the two of you as you bask in his embrace. He is your home, the person you looked forward to seeing all the time. 

This would be the first birthday spent with all of your favorite people and the first of many. You wouldn’t isolate yourself any longer. It was time you relished in the love that you deserved. 

[tinyyoungblood]

midnight in prague | tom holland

summary: you play MJ in far from home and when filming gets too stressful, you and tom sneak off from set to explore the city of prague at night while also talking about the idea of running away together

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader

word count: 1.9 k

warnings: a bit angsty but mainly fluff, one (1) violent metaphor, language 

a/n: i highly recommend listening to the song, it’s absolutely beautiful, sets the mood and inspired this story. used some of the lyrics as dialogue. enjoy! 

song/inspo: Canada (ft. Alessia Cara) by Lauv

↳ masterlist

* * *

“That’s a wrap, guys!” The crew cheered weakly, lacking the usual enthusiasm. Not moving from your spot, you meekly pumped your fist in the air in mute joy. To say you were exhausted wasn’t just an understatement, it was a big truck that rammed and then dragged you through the empty streets of Prague. You’ve been up since 9 am and the enormous clock, that had surely become the focal point for everybody, almost signaled three hours after midnight.

Your scene partner was even more drained than you. Tom was barely twitching a limb—only a hollow shell, containing the last remains of his wiped-out energy.

With his head rested on yours, you believed he was dead asleep and lightly poked his side to wake him up. But he only reached out and held your hand in a loose grip, arms dangling between your bodies. “I’m awake,” he murmured, and you were sure he was talking in his sleep.

“Tommy, wake up,” you said gently and wrapped your arms around his torso, letting him engulf you in a warm hug but he didn't budge, “You’re compressing my brain, Tom.”

Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes fluttering open to scan your face but only a second later did he realize that insomnia had caused him to believe your teasing for once. You couldn’t help but pout at the prominent exhaustion on his face. Footsteps on cobblestone and the movement of heavy filming gadgets made up your surroundings but you focused solely on Tom and the guilty look on his face. No words were needed for you to know that he was still sorry for something that he had no control over.

It wasn’t his fault that the weather conditions pushed the night shootings back and it certainly wasn’t his fault that cars were constantly driving over the bridge that you were filming at, forcing you to quickly jump to the side, only to shuffle right back to restart the scene.

But this was Prague and he was Tom. Much like his character, he had thoroughly planned a romantic trip for both of you and after weeks of gushing about it, he was sure he could make it work but something would always come up and push his plans into hopelessness.

At this point, he had accepted his fate but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t sad every time he looked at you and mad every time somebody said “action”. He loved his job and was forever grateful but for fuck’s sake, was it too much to ask for to spend some alone time with his girlfriend?

Just when he was about to open his mouth to apologize to you, you locked his lips with yours and he melted into the kiss, tense shoulders dropping. Releasing his lips with a soft plop, he sighed with a small smile, but his eyes still held sadness. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the others were already walking toward the van to drive back to the hotel to fall into a restless sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let Tom go to bed like this.

Your mind flicked to back home where you had naively envisioned your trip to Europe to be completely different—free and without a care in the world. You knew you were here for work, but you didn’t expect to have this many obligations that added to the constant pressure of having to deliver the perfect scenes. The world was counting on you to not fuck this up.

You sighed and looked down at the river. The water reflected the vibrant yellow streetlights and brought you a sense of much-needed peace and tranquillity. Tom watched you curiously as your eyes marveled at the scenery.

Your head whipped back to him and now you were beaming at him, a glimpse of mischief dancing in your eyes. “Let’s get out of here.” Tom blankly stared at you and blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “What?”

“I’m saying,” you dragged out and let go of his torso to swing his arms excitedly from side to side, he squeezed your hand, “this is our last night in Prague! We’ve been looking forward to this for the longest time, do you really want to miss it? Come on, we can sleep on the plane tomorrow. Let’s be carefree for once.” Your soul was fueled with sparkling joy and you forgot about your exhaustion. “Let’s be free.”

Tom took a second to contemplate your words before a wide grin broke out on his face and he nodded eagerly, surrendering to bliss. “God, I’m obsessed with your brain sometimes.”

With your hand still in his, you pulled him with you, excitement shimmering. Crossing the Charles Bridge, the two of you slipped away and entered the night you had dreamed of.

Golden lanterns on the side of the houses marked hidden but absolutely breathtaking alleys and for the first time on this trip, it was quiet and serene. Your eyes couldn’t stop darting everywhere, taking it all in with the deepest admiration. It was like you were falling in love with the whole world.

You had a bounce to your step and Tom couldn’t contain his bubbly feelings at the sight of you. He didn’t really understand what switch of yours was suddenly flicked for your spirits to fly this high, but he didn’t need to. He missed spending time with you. Back in the States, both of your schedules were packed and barely allowed a fleeting glimpse but now, the girl of his dreams was buzzing with happiness while the streetlights highlighted her glowing face and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t treasure every moment.

The darkness made the town appear like a secret fairytale village with its colorful houses and narrow passages. Your soft chatter lingered in the warm summer air and every time a giggle left your lips Tom’s heart filled with more love for you, warming him from within. With his adoring gaze, he spun you around. Your dress flying up and you stretched your arms upward, enjoying the carefreeness with a broad smile. You felt like you were floating, feet barely touching the ground as the both of you were dancing to no music.

Drunk with happiness, both of you laughed as Tom pressed your back against a wall. With his hands caressing your hips and your foreheads pressed against each other, your heart throbbed with profound joy, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Adrenaline and happiness consumed you, so much of it that you nearly forgot to breathe but you didn’t need to as Tom’s lips were already on yours. You pushed off the wall, sealing the tiny space between you and he deepened the kiss. Your heart almost broke with joy. Pulling apart, it left you breathless again and you were certain nothing could ever wipe off the stupid grin on your faces.

Arms swinging, the two of you continued your fairytale walk and ended up at the Charles bridge again where you had started off the night. Still high on emotions, Tom pulled you with him as he swung his legs over the rim of the bridge and gestured for you to follow. You didn’t hesitate and sat next to him, legs dangling over the river. You rested your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around your small frame as you overlooked the sight in front of you.

Your voice was delicate as you spoke, cautioning into the silence, “I really needed this. It's almost like I've been stuck at home forever.” Tom was playing with strands of your hair and you knew he was deep in thoughts.

Again, you watched the dancing streetlights reflection on the water surface but this time it didn’t bring you peace. You had your night and that was all you wanted. So why did you feel a pinch of sadness at the simple thought of heading to the hotel, settling into your bed and calling it a night. You didn’t want this night to end and you knew Tom also dreaded having to end this feeling.

So the question he asked next wasn’t a surprise to you in the slightest—it resonated with you.

“What if we move to Canada?”

He sounded hopeful. Musing about taking on the world in a different way than you both already did but he knew you two were in no position to be bold and just not give a damn. It was neither in his nor your power to be selfish. A sudden breeze left goosebumps on your exposed skin, but he dreamingly gazed at you with vulnerable eyes and you let yourself dream with him.

“We could bring Tessa,” you voiced, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “And your paintbrush and some candy,” Tom added, and awe transformed your face, eyes lighting up.

“I guess we’re lucky that we don’t need much outside of us, do we?” You chuckled softly and he shook his head with a sad smile on his face. He took your hand in his and started to play with your fingers, eyes looking heavenward. For the first time tonight, you noticed the endless stars sparkling from above.

“You know, when we film those movies...” He licked his lips and your gaze darted to his hesitant face. You weren’t sure if tears were brimming his eyes or if they reflected the deep water but they were glistening and you squeezed his hand to remind him that you were there. “...When they talk about those people in the movies who up and leave, I always think about how that could be us.”

He looked down at you, hands tightening around yours and now you were sure those were tears shimmering in his eyes. “That could be you and me.”

You didn’t answer and he didn’t need you to.

Both of you knew this wasn’t the heat of the moment talking. ‘Let’s get away from here and do our own thing’ wasn’t an option for any of you. Your thing was acting, you loved it from the bottom of your heart, and you wouldn’t be completed without that passion in your life and Tom—Tom was Spider-Man. Arguably one of the most recognizable cinematic characters in the world. Besides the fact that he couldn’t just quit, he didn’t want to either.

This was the life that you both chose. Unforgettable memories, unconditional support and overwhelming opportunities. There were also hours of press tours, draining interviews and nerve-wracking red carpets.

Your heart rate picked up at the single thought of it all but if tonight had taught you anything, it had taught you something deeply beautiful. Amid the chaos and pressure, amid the glamour and blessings, all you needed in the end was Tom by your side. He was the reason why you soared your highest heights and he was your support system when you plunged to the deepest depths. Gratitude flowed through you.

Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting it linger for a moment before you nuzzled your head back into the crook of his neck—brown eyes never leaving you. He returned the gesture by leaving a gentle kiss on top of your head, before resting his own on yours, pressing you closer into his body with a content sigh.

We are lucky that we don't need much outside of us.

* * *

wrote this at 5 am so it might be extra cheesy but i’m still too sleep-deprived to tell lol. i appreciate the hell out of feedback so feel free to leave me some and if you don’t, that’s okay too. thank u for reading, buh-bye! x

masterlist

[bubblyani]

Back for Good

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot

Movie: Harsh Times (2005) by David Ayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol use, Swearing,  Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: 9k+

Summary: Your spirits are lifted when your older boyfriend Jim Davis returns from the Army for good. As the lovers passionately reunite, you begin to reminisce the first encounter, and the unforgettable event that sealed your fate with Jim, possibly forever.

Author’s Note: One of the fantastic Balehead Accounts on Instagram once posted a photo of Jim Davis with a caption more so along the lines of “…Older boyfriend Jim visiting you at College…”. It was too irresistible to ignore. So this story was born. @tammykelly You are an angel to even show some enthusiasm towards this, even before I started, Thank you for the encouragement ! Hope y’all enjoy!

P.S: If anyone want to be tagged in specific Bale! Character fics please do let me know. And if you wanna be removed from anything NOT BATMAN, please feel free to let me know. I understand completely. 

Three.

It costed three people. Merely three for this nightmare scenario to enter reality.

A tall young man panted fast, his right hand assuming full responsibility for the broken bottle, not to mention the intense bleeding that resulted from it. All the while he stared down at his finished product: a much younger man. He watched the figure groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; as a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head as well, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement. Only in that moment, realization and bitter reality coupled up to surprise the standing man, with a sucker punch.

Which was transparent enough for the young woman beside them, the witness. Violence, Danger, her trembling heart sensed it all. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, never did she flinch. Never did her heart consider retracting from him. On the contrary, she was compelled to trust him even further.

Especially when she sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go”

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

 (Present)      

The dusky skies appeared just as serene over South Central Los Angeles as anywhere else in the country, filtering over the streets and the neighborhoods. Cruising through in favorable speed, Mike Alonzo finally took his eyes off the road, permitting them to land on the tall, young man sitting beside him on the passenger seat: his best friend, Jim Davis.

His downcast expression was evident, with his tall frame sunken into the seat. He stared right ahead, while he sipped his bottle of beer in his suit. This posture was nothing short of a surprise for Mike to glance upon. If he had squinted his eyes, he swore he could imagine Jim as the rebellious teenager he once was. Only with a new buzz cut. Otherwise, it seemed that nothing had really changed.

Except it had. Older and forced to be responsible, they were facing times considered very harsh. And Jim just had a taste of it.

“Sorry, dude”

Mike began, looking back at the road. Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim sat up in slow motion as his teeth began to grind.

“Man! Fuck…this...shit!!”

Jim drawled with disappointment, enunciating every word whilst holding up a piece of paper, “I’m so done with this cop hate bullshit!” He added, taking another sip of alcohol. Mike nodded:

“Yeah, dawg. Forget about that! ” He smiled, smacking his friend on his shoulder in a playful demeanor, “Hey, Syl is cooking tonight…You wanna join us, bro?”

The possibility of his girlfriend Sylvia agreeing to this, was at an all time low. Mike was well aware. Yet, he was certain it was a question worth posing to his friend in need.

“Nah, man! I got plans”

Hitting the brakes in front of the stop lights, Mike looked at his friend again with surprise, “Yeah?” He inquired, looking quite pleased. Finally flashing a proud smile, Jim nodded:

“Yep! Gonna go see my woman soon…” he answered. Eyes widening seemed appropriate for Mike at that very moment.

“Yo, No shit!” Mike cried out with excitement, finally stepping on the gas, “The chick from UCLA*? You…you still with her?” He inquired.

“Yeah, Homie! ”

“Dawg!…” laughing with sheer amazement, Mike looked at Jim, “I’m impressed…really” he added, proceeding to chuckle, “Look ‘atchu…my boi Jim....going steady with the fine ass college chick…”

“Whoo!” With his soul finally returning to his body,  Jim howled, “Finer than fine, dawg!”

“Hell yeah!”

Given the state of hyped energy that erupted in the car between the two young men, it would be nearly impossible to guess how sombre it was just before. “So…so…” Mike continued, holding on to the wheel as they kept driving, “… where you gon’meet?”

“Well…actually…” Jim looked at him, licking his lips, “….it’s a surprise” he added with a playful smirk. To which Mike could not help but laugh, “What?” Mike paused, “You didn’t tell her you’re back for good?”

Seeing his friend shake his head like a naughty schoolboy forced him to laugh harder, “Ohohoho!! this is gon be one hell of a reunion, dawg” He added with sheer enthusiasm, “But seriously though, she’s a real good one too, bro…” Mike opinionated, as soon as his laughter died down, “ I mean, even Syl liked her”

“Shit! For real?”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Mike answered immediately,  “And you know Syl, she ain’t easy to please”

Gulping down the remnants of the bottle, Jim exhaled and stared out through the window, “Shit man!” He exclaimed, “I’m really gonna see her again, huh?”

With his tone growing deeper, his eyes began to burn with a flame that could only be categorized as lustful. Sensing the vibe that did not seem so new, Mike chuckled:

“Oh yeah! My homie’s gonna get it tonight! Salud*”

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

The buzz, the chatter of young adults was consistent in the hallway outside. It served as background noise when the door of the toilet cubicle burst wide open, spitting a rather young woman out of it with haste. Only then did the mirror managed to identify her: You.

With your hand clutching on to a bra, you let out a relieved sigh. For within a few seconds, your body experienced a new form of liberation. And you managed to savor it on your own in a public ladies washroom. Wearing a soft smile that was easily reflected in the mirror, you stuffed the piece of lingerie into your shoulder handbag.

“Seriously?”

You jumped with a yelp. Being so wrapped around in your own thoughts, you did not even notice Yara, your friend standing there. With her arms folded and eyebrows raised, it was clear that her face was rife with judgement.

“What?” You inquired breathlessly, “Auntie Flo* is about to visit…and the twins were just swelling to …get some parole time” you added with a playful smirk, pointing at your chest with no shame. The curves of your now-freed bosom seemed more visible through your cardigan top, “And fuck! it feels so good” you exclaimed, as you washed your hands. Yara however, scoffed with amusement:

“So you’re saying you were squirming in your seat the whole time to let the puppies out?”

“What? I had to pee too!”

“Well, You could have just left right then!” She insisted with a seeming annoyance, as you grabbed a tissue.

“…and miss Mr. Linney’s Final Notes? Uh uh! No way, bitch!” You waved your index finger with disapproval as you both exited. Students had flooded the hallway by then. Evening lectures at UCLA finally had drawn to a close, and Friday night was about to make its entrance. Youth in all shapes and colors, gathered in bunches all over the campus area, even beside the beautifully lit Royce Hall. Suffice to say, all were relieved to have some time off in the weekend.

“So…you coming, right?”

You looked at Yara upon her casual inquiry with confusion, “For what?”. Scoffing again, this time in disbelief, Yara's eyes widened looking at you: “Dinner?…tonight?”

She stressed, taking a step out of the campus building, “Last week you promised you’ll join me and Chase” with her arms folded and foot tapping on the ground in pure restlessness, she was a clear visual of a loanshark. However, that impatience left her system the moment her eyes fell behind you,“…and speaking of Chase…Baby!”

With her face lit up, her tone grew affectionate as Chase, her boyfriend rushed over to her.

“ ‘sup babe!” The tall, young blonde greeted, pulling his ebony goddess of a girlfriend for a passionate kiss.

Folding your arms, you could not help but avert your eyes. All the while you drew circles with your foot on the ground. Chase and Yara’s relationship certainly was a refreshing one to glimpse upon in the campus premises. You approved of it with sincerity, even when you looked away in awkwardness. It was not on spite. Truthfully, PDA was nothing you disapproved of. You were certainly not envious of the joy they possessed as their lips played with one another, quite similarly to a steamy MTV music video. You merely looked away, for any display of affection was a sheer reminder of him.

It had been months since you last saw him, possibly 6. And constant communication was not exactly convenient for him. Not in his situation. Was he alive and happy? The sheer reminder of gunshots and helicopter whirring forced your heart to race, which was nothing short of new. Granted, you had learnt to ‘compartmentalize’, a term you recently came to knowledge in your psych minor class. Yet, you were young and only human to have those concerns return to haunt you even for a few seconds. The sound of Yara and Chase’s lips smacking urged you to look up. Finally, you thought.

“So?” Yara inquired, casually wiping the smudged lipstick off her face, “You coming?”

Carefree, yet extremely inconsiderate, that was what she exuded. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. For oddly enough, the sight of the happy couple managed to drain your energy out tonight. You longed to run away.

“Honestly…” you began with a sigh, “I don’t really feel so good tonigh-”

“¿Qué pasa, guapa?”

   What’s up, gorgeous?  

That voice. That deep, spine tingling tone was a reminder of your mere existence. The tone that tempted every hair in your body to stand at attention. Turning around in a flash, you covered your mouth, shocked to find the person you prayed to see all this time.

“JIM??” You cried out in a muffled tone, “Oh my GOD!!-”

Squealing in pure joy, you sprinted towards Jim Davis before jumping into his arms. Seemingly extremely pleased, Jim let out a hearty laughter. Suddenly the energy you were drained had returned in the form of a shot of adrenaline when he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you without hesitation. And you swore the feel of his lips on yours added a couple of years into your life.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon” Breathless, you pointed out when he finally put you down.

“Well, I’m back for good, baby” Jim replied, extending his arms outward with pride. Your eyes widened: “What? You serious?”

“Yep…” he grinned nodding, “Honorably discharged…and all yours”

You sensed his tone morph into a low purr the moment he pulled you close to him. And you would be lying if that did not fill your stomach with butterflies. After ages.

“Umm….”

Yara’s voice emerged. You and Jim turned back, to find her and Chase appearing the most confused, “…you mind telling us who this is…?” She inquired with raised eyebrows.

Finally in realization, you chuckled. For introductions were in order.

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

The aromatic scent crept into your nostrils, only to soon disappear out of the lack of attention provided. All the while an uptempo Latin Pop track playing in the background mingled with Yara and Chase’ voices, but unfortunately faded away into mere mumbles. For none of that seemed to be the key focus for you tonight. Not when Jim Davis was around.

Even seated at a crowded Mexican Restaurant, he mattered the most to you. Even when platefuls of delectable Taquitos* were served to the table, your eyes did not leave his irresistible side profile. And when his sense of expertise noticed and his eyes caught your gaze, you were breathless. You wondered if it was the romantic in you surfacing, for all seemed to appear in slow motion. His eyes remained seductive, washing all over you that it was certain your panties might melt and diminish into thin air. Those eyes were truly sorcerous, that your eyes suddenly had lives of their own to the point you could sense their figurative cheeks heat up with heavy blushes. For his eyes, they were proficient in the dirty talk as much as his mouth was. Breathing in his cheap cologne with depth, you suddenly grew aware of his touch, and the fact he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder all this time. Being lost in his eyes was definitely an out-of-body experience.

“Hey!”

Your soul reunited with your frame upon Yara’s call.

“Mmm?” Looking over at the couple sitting across the table, you and Jim were unfazed.

“Aren’t you two gonna eat?” Yara inquired with raised eyebrows while Chase had began to gobble. Her gaze questioned both your sanity. To which you and Jim could not help but chuckle in response. Shaking her head, Yara scoffed:

“It’s so weird…” she began, “��seeing you like this”. Wiping the crumbs off his mouth, Chase joined in with confidence, “Yeah! How did you guys even meet anyways? I mean, no offense but…we never thought she’d be the one…” he stressed, pointing at you, “… to have an older boyfriend who’s a Marine-”

“-Army Ranger” Jim corrected. His gaze and tone was dominant, enough for Chase to wither with intimidation.

“Yeah…” Chase nodded with a gulp, “…what you said…”. You would be lying if you admit you did not enjoy that sight.

“Actually…” you finally began, “We met a year ago” turning to face your boyfriend, “ He was back in LA during his break. We met at a bar”

“Hold up! ” Raising her hand, Yara was wide eyed, “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Cause this happened a year ago, hun. Calm down” you chuckled, “Actually, this was even before Cin transferred. Hah! you didn’t miss much…Don’t worry” you assured upon seeing Yara’s pout, “It was a small bar, but I loved the Pistos*-I mean…” you paused with a smile, “….the beer there…” Your pause caused Jim to chuckle alongside once again. Safe to say it was a chuckle that encompassed a shared memory. A sweet reminder of your first ever meeting.

“And?…that’s it?” Chase inquired with amusement, with both hands resting on the wooden table, “You both meet at a bar one night and…” he whistled, “…then sparks flew?”

Looking at them both, you could sense the suspicion in their eyes. You longed to answer, however it was not so easy to do so. Pausing, you struggled with a response.

“Absolutely!”

Jim answered for you with nonchalance, while his grip on you tightened. For a split second you both exchanged a gaze of reassurance. And you had never been more relieved. The secret was safe.

“So…”, Turning towards the couple, Jim began, “How did you lovebirds meet then?”

Hesitation was certainly not in Yara’s vocabulary when she offered to speak. Leaving her sight, your eyes darted towards the the chilled beer that Jim placed on the table. You smiled to yourself. They were certainly filled with memories.

Reminiscing your first meeting with Jim Davis, never failed to be exciting every single time. Before Yara ended up in your life, there was Cindy. Noticing your evident sadness due to her surprise transfer to USC*, Cindy was hell bent in comforting you, thus suggesting you join her and her boyfriend Ray for a night out in South Central. You agreed, being desperate enough to spend the final few days with your roommate. Situated at the suburbs, this bar was small, intimate and seemingly inhabited by those who knew Ray, which resulted in a welcoming atmosphere upon arrival. Though the place was mostly filled with gangsters, you did not care for the slightest, when especially you found yourself falling for the unexpected; The beer.

Chilled to perfection, the beer there was unlike any that you had tasted before. And it was certainly a surprise, given they were the usual brands. You could not fathom the refreshing sensation that trickled down your throat with the first sip. That sensation tempted your hips to sway, urged your feet to move in rhythm. All in syncopation with the music that played in the jukebox under the dim lights. Until finally bumping into a man woke you from your intoxication. A man you were fascinated with in an instant:

Jim Luther Davis.

Such a pity that Yara’s gusto-filled story barely reached your ears. For reliving a memory simply seemed sweeter for you. Thus, you continued to do so.

Fortunately, Jim Davis did not end up being a handsome stranger that you simply bumped into, for coincidence had other plans. Especially, when he and Mike Alonzo turned out to be Ray’s mutual older drinking buddies. You were ecstatic. Internally, of course.

With the entire group packed together in the booth table, it was one loud but engaging hangout. Except for you. Somehow you preferred to sit right next to Cindy in silence, being distracted by two things: Beer, and Jim.

Blame the chemicals embedded in your system, for you simply found yourself drawn to him. Truthfully, it did not seem so difficult to begin with. Not when he turned out to be your type in appearance. You found yourself watching him. The manner in which he listened to others with swagger and confidence, the manner in which he held himself ; They all brought a certain air to him. Your attention had pierced through all manner of secrecy that he would occasionally end up catching your gaze. And then you would look away, quick and embarrassed. Though you must admit, it was a game you thoroughly enjoyed playing. But at the same time, you felt idiotic and childish.

“Cat got yo tongue, baby?”

You blinked, looking up. Fabio, one of Ray’s friends threw the query over to your direction, all of the sudden. And with that, the table grew quiet. All the eyes landed on you, except for Jim’s. A surge of embarrassment rushed towards you when awkward silence filled the booth. For you were definitely distracted to the point you did not follow the conversation. With you struggling to form an answer, Fabio snickered:

“Yo Cindy, What’s up with yo friend? She deaf or somethin’?”

“Easy, homie”

Before Cindy could respond, Jim’s quick reply arose. And you swore your eyes caught the sight of his hand ball into a fist as his eyes had grown dark. Oddly enough, that was the comfort you needed right then.

“Don’t mind me, Fabio…” you shrugged with confidence, “I’m just a girl hooked on her Pistos” you said, enunciating the Spanish word before taking another sip. You may have smiled at him, but you knew how much you feigned it. Awkward silence remained intact. But Ray managed to save the night, by changing the topic of conversation. Slightly embarrassed, Fabio shot you a look. All before he leaned towards his friends, muttering some words in Spanish.

“You speak Spanish?”

Jim’s low query made you turn to him.

“N-No…” you answered with nervousness.

“Well…” he began, “…you should” Though his tone was of seriousness, he did not fail to flash you a soft smile that comforted you even further.

Thus, the evening progressed. And you began to notice Jim in much detail. The more you did, you discovered a warmth that seemed to trickle down your heart. For you realized, you would not be able to stop yourself from falling for him. Hard.

You smiled to yourself, relieved Yara still did not know you were drifting away in your head, stuck in a memory.

Unable to stop obsessing over him since that first night, you remembered how you found yourself returning to the same bar the following night, alone.

Stepping into the venue, you suddenly were aware how unprepared you were. Even while placing an order at the bar counter, you remembered covering your mouth with embarrassment. Was this a mistake?

“Hey Baby! ”

Jumping in your barstool, you sighed with annoyance when you realized it was Fabio sneaking up on you.

“Just…” you feigned a chuckle, “Don’t call me baby, okay?”. Evidently ignorant, Fabio seemed to have chosen to stay. To your dismay. Sporting gold chains on his neck and wrists, Fabio was on a dire attempt to emulate a thriving gangster, when he actually was just another college kid like Ray.

“So, whatcha doing all by yourself, baby? Don’t tell me…you’re here to see yo boi Fabio?”

Keep telling yourself that, you thought. Exhaling in frustration, you maintained a tight smile, “I uh…just waiting for someone” you struggled. Flashing a mischievous smile, Fabio leaned in closer. You prayed he would not notice how your nose scrunched up by his heavy cologne with disgust. And how your body tightened when his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, licking his lips by the sight of your choker and your red, floral short dress.

“Who are we kidding?” He sniggered, “You wanna piece of this, huh? Come o-” “No!” You cut him off, “I’m really…” feigning a chuckle once again, “…waiting for someone…Thanks” you said, extending your hands in defense. Given the reaction of those around you, it may have been a louder response than expected. For Fabio turned red, making it his queue to slither away. You sighed deep. Luck did not seem to get on with you from the moment you stepped in here. Was this a mistake? When you felt a finger tap you on your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and turned around. For you were ready to give Fabio a piece of your mind.

Except, it was not Fabio.

“Hey…”

Jim greeted you, his deep tone announcing his arrival. Standing at an appropriate distance, he stood tall with a hint of swagger. Your body began to finally relax by the sight, especially when your eyes were refreshed by the open plaid shirt worn along with his white vest and baggy pants.

“Hey…” breathless, you began, “Hey!” Confidence finally became you as you repeated with a smile. The bartender caught your attention the moment he placed a chilled bottle of beer on the counter before you.

“Make it two, Hermano* ” Jim said, handing the man some cash. All the sudden, guilt washed over you as you gasped: “Oh I-”

“I got this…” Jim assured, seeing you reach into your bag. Grateful, you nodded, “So…” he began, “Can seem to get enough of them Pistos, hmm?” An inquiry left his lips the moment he received his own bottle. Smiling shyly, you bit the side of your lower lip. The manner in which that word rolled out his tongue caused excitement. Besides, his mouth suddenly seemed more delectable. Oh, his mouth.

“Yeah…” you admitted, “Can’t get enough…and I hope I never will”

You added, gazing directly into his hazel orbs. It simply was a mistake to do so, given how those eyes burnt with curiousity, urging you to blush in return, “And er…” pausing, you looked down, “ I was kinda hoping I’d catch you around” you said, looking up again.

“Yeah?” Jim inquired, genuinely surprised, “Why?”

That was when you froze. He was right, what exactly was your intention of seeing him tonight? Unfathomable on how you gathered courage to blurt that silly line in the first place. What if you dragged yourself all the way here to be rejected? What if there never was a form of enthusiasm from his corner as you hoped? What if this ends up being the story of a silly sophomore college girl, having delusions over an older man?

You chuckled with a nervous tone, “Well I-…” you paused, as your pulse began to grow loud within you, “Sorry…” you muttered, sliding off the stool, “This was just a stupid idea. I should go-”

“Wait!”

You turned upon Jim’s call. Showing his bottle, he shrugged:

“These Pistos aren’t gonna get finished themselves, hmm?” He dared to pose that inquiry with a playful grin. Smiling back involuntarily, you knew you had no comeback for that.

You remembered the chill outside the bar that night. The breeze that caressed your exposed skin of your legs were still fresh in your memory. Gazing at whatever stars your eyes could make out amidst the city lights, you and Jim sipped on the chilled alcohol from the porch. Given the fact there were little to none outside, the evening was unexpectedly intimate.

“Your uh…” clearing your throat, you finally broke the surprisingly comfortable silence, “Your friend not with you tonight?”

“Mike?” Jim inquired, to which you nodded, “Nah! he’s got his hands full” he answered with a smile.

“You guys close?”

“Hell yeah…He’s my homeboy, ya know? Since we were kids”

“Sweet. Must be nice.” You smiled in return, looking back at the sky, “I uh…remember that you serve. Iraq, huh?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Fallujah* ” Jim answered with a nod, looking at you.

“Whoa…” you breathed in wonder. Silence took over once again while your tongue  savored the beverage.

“And you?…UCLA?” Jim spoke before wiping his mouth, “Man! That’s some fancy ass shit right there”

“Yeah well… it ain’t a walk in the park…” you contradicted in a shy tone, forcing him to shoot you a look of concern. To which you chuckled, “I’m on scholarship, I mean…” you added, helping him come to realization, “Hehe yeah…I had to nerd my way into that gig” moving side to side, you could not help but take another sip,“But, I know…what a good thing I got going on. And I know… if I screw it up, then I’m FUCKED” you enunciated the end, which drove him to laughter. You adored how it soothed you somehow.

“Well…” he began, “…whatever fucking takes, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah…Here’s to…uh…positive shit! Hah!” You laughed as you both clinked the bottles together. The more alcohol that chose to settle in your system, the bolder you became:

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

You fully turned to him, “Being out there…in Iraq…” you continued, “I mean…I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit…” you inhaled, “you know…shit you can’t forget, right? I mean, shit like that…” you scoffed, “….that shit can fuck…you…up…” at that moment you could not help but find yourself lost in thought.

But Jim’s surprised expression made you pause. You chuckled in embarrassment.

“I’m just…guessing…” you muttered, sipping once again. Perhaps you went a tad bit too far with the blabbering. For your cheeks began to heat up with worry. Until Jim spoke:

“Well…Shit or no shit…Follow orders, that’s what we do” Instead of a frown, Jim replied, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

“Yeah…I get it” you nodded in a fast pace. Robust, and straightforward, his attitude was to be admired. Funny you found yourself staring at his side profile long enough, his face could easily be compared to that of a statue. Perfect in proportion, your mouth began to dry out. You were attracted to him, shamelessly so.

“I-”, You paused, suppressing a grin, “…never mind”

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking at you. To which you shook your head frantically.

“Nah, it’s really silly…”

“Come on!…tell me” Fully turning, Jim insisted with a smile. His voice had its way of being persuasive. And his voice had its way of tearing your defenses down, or so it seemed. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“I kept thinking about this but…” you paused, “Last night, you said I should learn some Spanish… Why?”

Desperate for more interaction, that was your excuse. Jim responded with a shy chuckle. Certainly was worth it.

“I mean, we just met and you barely knew me…” you continued with a smile, “So…why?” As your question grew more confident, your inner desperation grew strong. Taking his last sip from the bottle, Jim surprised you by taking a step towards you:

“You really wanna know the truth?”

“Try me” , You replied, quickly finishing your own bottle, all without breaking away from his gaze.

And thank goodness you finished it. For you would have surely dropped it. Especially when Jim stood dangerously close to you, causing you to be immediately aware of the muscles between your thighs contracting. Even more so, when his irresistible eyes traveled from your very own all the way to your alcohol stained lips.

“Cause…” he purred, “…you have no fucking clue how sexy you sound”

You both may have chuckled to his line, but that did not mean your pulse did not quicken. Which increased in speed the moment his eyes took hold on yours once again. Seduction, he certainly was proficient in it. And you, were a witness. A witness who suffered from internal combustion of frustration.

You inhaled deep, “Really?” “Yeah…” he breathed in a sultry manner.

Just when you thought no force on earth could break this eye contact, the door burst open. Some men exited. Breaking away, you looked at your watch watch in an instant. You sighed. Real Life was calling you.

“I…I gotta go…” downcast, you muttered with guilt, “Class tomorrow…” adding extra guilt, you knew that excuse certainly did not put you in a good light.

“Lemme drop you then…”

Jim’s nonchalant and nonjudgmental reply urged you to look up with relief. Smiling in agreement, you watched him enter the bar with the empty bottles. And in that very moment, a tingling sensation filled with thrill washed over you, leaving no inch unattended. Butterflies returned to your stomach, fluttering harder than ever before in your life. Were you being hopeful? Could Jim Davis be desiring the same? Goosebumps traveled through you when that tingling sensation returned with much detail. Too much detail to be specific.

Until you realized it was real. And Jim’s hand was directly at fault here.

Blinking back to the present reality, your eyes caught the sight of Jim’s chilled fingers on your leg. They ran over over your inner exposed thigh in circular motion, thus, inciting the tingling sensation. Of course, no wonder the detail was accurate.

Yara and Chase were oblivious to all this, for they were caught up in their own love story as she kept yapping. But that was only the fact Jim kept on such a convincing focused face. He may be ‘listening’ to your friend, but his hand was evidently not. The longer his fingers lingered on your skin, the more you were reminded of him. And the more you began to tingle and sweat in the most unexpected places.

You were young, and unapologetically shameless. 6 months. It was exactly 6 whole months since you were last physically intimate with your boyfriend. And with studies piling up along with the expectation of a scholarship holding sophomore, ‘getting yourself off’ was never an option. Not with a roommate around.

The tingling sensation grew even stronger. And you began to hear your own quickening breath. Jim Davis’ elongated fingers, they spoke of pride. You longed for them to travel to locations far more adventurous and private than your thighs. Especially when they were rife with experience. Truthfully, it was a fact that his hands and his delicious lips and tongue were fluent in your body than your own self. Being pleasure deprived for too long, the mere thought of him ravishing you, aroused you even more. Aroused, and certainly very starved. The kind that food simply could not satisfy.

“...and under the stars…” Yara continued, holding on to Chase with lovestruck eyes, “…he told me he loved m-”

“Excuse me!”

Cutting her off, you cried out as you stood up in an instant.

“What’s up with you?” Chase inquired, whilst Yara looked offended.

“Just I gotta…pee…” you lied, eyes landing on Jim, “…now”

“Okay…” you heard Chase mutter in kind as you left the table, “…TMI, but whatever”

In all fairness, being judged was the least of your concerns. With every speedy step you took, the faster your heart began to beat. Storming into the empty ladies room, you found yourself staring at a mirror once again, with a heaving chest and noticeably flushed cheeks. It was plain to see, you were engulfed in the flames of pure arousal, and the fire needed to be put out.

And when the bathroom door opened up once again, you turned to find the fireman enter. Wearing a serious expression, it was slightly difficult to decipher his thoughts.

“I…” you struggled as Jim strode towards you, “I didn’t know what else to do-” Except he knew. When he attacked you with a passionate kiss.

Jumping into him was reflexive. Wrapping your legs around his waist seemed almost choreographed. Finally resting on the washroom sink, it was quite safe to admit how both of you were very much relieved to be the only occupants in the room. For there was no intention of holding back. Your denim skirt hiked high up, revealing your thighs in completion under the white fluorescent lights as Jim stood between your legs. And they were much cared for, as his hands gingerly rubbed them back and forth while his lips indulged yours with hunger.

“You think they know I lied?”

Breathless, you inquired with innocence. Except you did not receive an instant reply. Not when you found yourself gasping when he pulled your head back by your hair with a growl. With liberated access to your bare neck, Jim celebrated by placing equally starving kisses all over, resulting in your surprising moans.

“You think I fuckin’ care?” He chuckled into your skin, to which you could not help but chuckle back:

“Oh no, you bad boy” you purred in tease.

“Oh yeah, baby girl …” purring back, his reply incited a giggle out of you before he kissed you once again.

“Ay Papi*!” You breathed into his lips before he snatched up yours for good. Surroundings were simply irrelevant the moment the kiss turned intense, as his tongue crashed in like the rude boy he was, and grabbed onto your own tongue in a passionate embrace. They clashed against one another in frenzy, him claiming you as his. As the kiss grew deeper, your moans grew louder. When he pulled away all the sudden, whimpers left your lips with desperation. Teasing you so, Jim took a good look at you:

“¿Como esta tu Español?” He breathed low. And you were pleased that you actually understood.

   How’s your Spanish?  

Pressing himself against you, he began to slowly grind. You grew excited. Listening to Jim Davis speak Spanish was simply erotic in the first place. And since you have been studying it on your own for past few months, you were certainly impatient to show him.

“Yo…” you began, finding the words “…estudio pala-sorry…” with a nervous chuckle, you looked down, “..I know I suck-”

“No no…keep going” Jim insisted with a smile, bringing your chin up for a reassuring kiss, “Now say it again…” he added, maintaining eye contact with ferocity. Taking a deep breath, all the words clearly appeared in your head. Thus, you flashed a mischievous grin:

“…estudiando palabras…muy importantes”

   I am studying…very important words.  

Gasping was all you could do when Jim picked you up, carrying you into the nearest toilet booth. Thankfully with this restaurant being surprisingly hygienic, you did not mind. Life barely was embedded in your legs the moment he put you down, locking the door behind you to push you against it.

“Oh yeah?” He inquired, panting, “¿Cómo cuál?”

   Like what?  

Panting alongside him, you stood up straight, “Por ejemplo…”

   For example…  

Amidst his pants and his impressed expression, you grabbed his hands, placing them over your buttocks. All the while you looked at him with eyes, heavy with lust:

“¡Haz lo que quieras!”

You could not believe how confident you sounded. Smiling with equal lust in his eyes, Jim kissed you in approval, definitely pleased with what he just heard:

   (Do) whatever you want!  

Growling with effect, his animalistic nature was exuded as his hands gripped onto your buttocks with passion. His big, generous hands felt through every cheek with familiarity, as if they just reunited with a long lost friend. But that did not mean he forgot about all the other friends, the rest of your frame that had missed him as well. Moaning with pleasure, you began to unbutton his white shirt during in haste.

You simply adored his hands, for they were as passionate as his Spanish was. As he proceeded to hold on to your hips, your own hands roamed over his torso over his white vest. Except you froze the second his hands landed on your chest. Shaky breaths exited your lips as you shivered by his touch, for your breasts were at its most sensitivity even through your thin cardigan top. Palming them generously, Jim groaned into your lips:

“Fuck! I missed you, Guapa”

“I missed you more, Papi”

Confessing in return, you kissed him once more. Moans of desperation mixed into your kisses the moment his hands dipped inside your cardigan crop top, only to make direct contact with your untethered bosom. You winced involuntarily, even from his touch so gentle. Jim chuckled with seeming victory. And you were not afraid to admit, how you were simply in the palm of his hand.

Usually, during the peak pre-menstruation, you dared not let anyone come close to you, let alone touch you. But when it was Jim Davis, those rules halt by the door. He was a man who could maneuver his touch. However, he certainly was no good boy. Proceeding with his sweet torture during kisses, you were relieved to have a door to keep you balanced. For his long fingers, they flicked, encircled and pulled your now-sensitive nipples, keeping them fully erect and thoroughly visible even through the clothes.

Gripping his vest even tighter, you pressed your thighs together, for intense levels of pleasure and sensitivity crashed within you, akin to an avalanche. In truth, it simply was an overdose, and you could not handle. You were a mere animal trapped in this cage of frustration. But like an animal, you managed to set yourself free. You pushed Jim back with such force, that he ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat behind him. A surprised expression adorned his face when you straddled him in the process. Peeling your cardigan off your torso, you hinted your need for him. Which immediately was motivation for him to unbuckle his pants. However, his eyes did not fail to leave your sight while he did. For his eyes revealed nothing but pure amazement and hunger. He inhaled deep:

“Fuck!” He uttered, while his hand dipped into his hardened manhood.

“Yeah, that’s right Papi…” you breathed, maintaining the ironclad gaze. All the while you permitted his hand to feel the intense dampness of your opening, “Fuck me!”

And thus, public decency went flying out the window the moment the lovers fully united. The manner in which his hands rested on your bare back; whilst you moved upwards and downwards in syncopation to his thrusts, it drove you wild. The manner in which his generous and erect shaft felt so familiar inside of your tight walls, was too intoxicating as always. His mutual desperation and hunger translated well, as his lips savored on your swollen and sensitive bosom as if they were treasured food rations. Tingles were divided into million branches, impacting every form of stimuli in your system. But even in the midst of these endless waves of pleasure, that certain question from Chase yet lingered in your mind:

  “And?…that’s it? You both meet at a bar one night and…then sparks flew?” “Absolutely!”  

For in truth, it was not just a night of drinking and playful flirting that caused this relationship to blossom. And just like that, You could not help but recall further.

And peek into the moment that remained stored in the deepest corner of your mind. In the form of a secret.

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

With arms folded, you kept on waiting. Long enough for the chill outside to grow stronger. Long enough for you to begin pacing nervously. Even long enough for several men to exit the bar during. Given its cabin exterior, it became more and more evident that this was more of an old fashioned bar. You sighed. Jim was certainly taking a little bit too long inside.

Paranoia knocked on your heart’s door, forcing you to welcome it inside with reluctance. Thus, several questions began to occupy your thinking space. Was there trouble inside? A possible Bar Fight? You shook your head, for you were surely being delusional. Or worse, was this a part of his plan all along? The player type to ditch you for someone else? Perhaps with someone better looking that he just met. Envy formed in your heart towards a woman that possibly may not even exist. Your stomach turned in a merciless fashion. When the door opened again, a surge of hope grew in you. Could it finally be Jim?

Except it was not.

“Baby! You still around huh?”

Fabio said, in a pleased tone, exiting the bar. Clicking your tongue in an involuntary fashion, you turned away with frustration. For he was the last person you hoped to lay eyes upon.

“Hey-Wha-What’s the matter?” Fabio cried, “Can’t look at a friend?” Whilst he tapped you on the shoulder repeatedly. Alcohol was strong in his presence. And the fact he stood uncomfortably close certainly turned your stomach even more.

“Well, technically you’re not my friend” With a forced smile, you turned to him, “You’re Ray’s friend, OKAY? ” a snappy tone exited your lips. And for a split second, there was genuine offense painted in Fabio’s face.

“Just tryna be nice, jeez!” He muttered low, with arms lifted. Coming one’s senses, you finally drew in deep breath while letting your arms loose.

“I…I’m sorry, dude”  you said, in a soft tone, staring the droopy eyed young man. Being Cindy’s friend, your last intention was to cause friction Ray and his friends. Your tone seemed to have been convincing enough, for Fabio flashed a soft smile in return:

“It’s okay…” he replied, to which you were relieved.

But that relief was short lived. Especially when Fabio leaned forward with puckered up lips in an instant, forcing you to gasp.

“What the hell, man?” You inquired, pushing him back with aggression.

“Ah come on, baby…” he drawled, chuckling in a playful manner, “Just one kiss…I mean, look at you! You still waiting out here. For who? I know… you really came here for me” with open arms, he went in for an embrace. Scoffing, you pushed him back again. That was when your pulse quickened again. To the point you hoped to flee.

“That’s it! I’m leaving! ”

You snapped, darting away from the entrance. The concern of leaving Jim behind or finding a cab did not seem problematic anymore, for all you needed was to get away. However, a painful cry left your lips when you felt your hair being pulled back. Your eyes widened. It was an angry Fabio.

“Ugh! Why you being such a Puta* right now, huh?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you closer “Oh wait I forgot…” he snickered, “….you don’t understand Spanish, right bitch?” turning you to him. The alcohol had certainly rendered him more maniacal than ever.

“Don’t’ be a jerk, Fabio…” You cried, as you began to swing desperate punches towards his direction. But your defenses were lowered and moot, the moment he grabbed you tight by the wrists. You gasped, “..let… me… go! HELP! ”.

However, despite your cries, no one came to your aid.

This feeling, certainly was the ‘stuff of nightmares’. This feeling, had haunted you every now and again in imagination. To have it form into reality, was worse. No matter the force you exerted to free yourself, it seemed moot. For Fabio had the upper hand with his strength. And you were overpowered with intimidation. With the heartbeat increased in record speed, your heart was on the verge of exploding with fear. For the first time, you feared for your life. You despised the fact there was no one around, the fact this bar was on the outskirts. Almost close to tears, You heavily despised the fact you may be getting hurt in more ways than one tonight.

Until you heard a bottle shatter. Loud.

Glass fragments dripped from Fabio’s head as he cried out with immense pain. His grip on you loosened before he dropped down to the ground. Only for you to find Jim Davis standing behind him, with with a bottle broken in hand, and sheer rage in his eyes.

Rolling over, Fabio caught the sight of the man, “Jim??” He groaned, “What the hell, man? Why you helping this bitch-ARGH!”

A kick in the stomach was Jim’s choice in response, which incited more cries from the fool.

“THE FUCK YOU TOUCH HER FOR, HUH?” Jim yelled, his loud voice piercing through the tension like high pressured flames. However, the question seemed rhetoric, when he continued to kick Fabio, aggression growing more and more evident, “FUCKING…ASS…HOLE!” With tightened fists, he enunciated with each kick, “MOTHERFUCKE-”

“JIM!!!!”

You cried in an instant. And that very moment was when he finally froze. That fateful moment, you watched his face change, for his expression was clear as day. As if a wave of realization washed over him. As if bitter reality surprised him with a sucker punch.

All the while he stared down at his finished product: Fabio. He watched the the young man groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; all the while a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head and his mouth, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement.

Which was transparent enough for you, the witness.

You regretted being frozen with shock. If it only was for you to control. Thankfully a shred of it reached when you finally mustered the strength to call for him out from a potential murder. Violence, Danger, your trembling heart sensed it all. All from Jim. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, despite your shock, never did you flinch. Never did your heart consider retracting from him or running away.

On the contrary, you were compelled to trust him even further. Especially when you sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go…”

You found yourself uttering those words, as you took his hand in urgency. Pulling him with haste, you both fled from the scene. Adrenaline coursing through the veins whilst running away, leaving a wounded man laying in his own mess before anyone could find out.

You remembered how Jim drove. Quiet, but focused. He drove and drove, until the bar disappeared from your sight. He drove to the point you both found yourselves ending up at a remote beach. And finally, time had returned to its normal pace once again.

Calming sounds of the ocean waves filled your ears, while the sight of the foamy waters barely were visible in the darkness. You watched Jim slowly take his hands from the wheel, rubbing his face. Your eyes widened, when you noticed his hand bleeding slightly. Perhaps from the broken bottle. You longed to speak, however no voice was present. Pushing the seat back, Jim slowly crawled over to the back of the car. Silence overpowered for too long, which urged you to clear your throat and speak:

“A…Are you ok-”

“You’re right, you know…”

You paused, upon hearing Jim’s interruption. Looking back from the front passenger seat, you found light finally shining on his face. Much to your sadness, cracks formed in your heart by the sight of his expression. Especially when silent tears streamed down his chiseled face. As if his mask of bravery was stripped away. Or even melted.

“You’re right…shit’s been crazy over there…” he chuckled with sadness, “…worse, shit’s crazy over here too…” he said, pointing at his own head.

Joining him in the backseat, you took the bandana off your head without hesitation.

“The thing’s I’ve seen…” he continued in mid-whisper, “The shit I had to do. The shit I wanted to do. It’s fucked up…so fucked up”.

It was unfathomable. Witnessing emotions of Jim Davis on variant scale in one single night, including him unveiling his vulnerability, you did not know where to begin processing. Simultaneously, those cracks in your heart, they could not help but form deeper to the point you ached inside. For a second, you were filled with an overwhelming desire for this misery in his heart to disappear. You longed for him to smile again. You froze. Were you tasting a slice of pure affection? Perhaps even, love? For him?

“It’s too fucked up…I’M fucked up-”

“Hey…hey…”

Your voice cracked when you finally began, leaning towards him, “Shhhh…It’s okay…” you said in comfort, while rubbing his forearm, “…its okay…I’m here” you said, as you occupied yourself with tending to his bleeding hand as a coping mechanism. The bleeding that he did not even notice.

With his hand on yours, the heart did feel heavier in comparison. As if his hand was magnetically powerful enough to keep you nearby. Thus, forming an attraction. Not the type that stirred the loins, but merely the kind that longed for you to wail on behalf of him. The kind to carry the pain for him. As if you did not wish to carry on another minute of your life, without knowing he would be well. And you would be lying if you did not want to show him that.

Your trembling hand reached out for his surprised face, turning it towards you with patience. The deep breath you took, it occupied your lungs in completion. Butterflies exploded in your stomach , causing a riot before you moved close. Close enough to feel his breath on your face. And close enough to press your lips on both his cheeks.

You tasted his salty tears, that stained his face. Pressing your own lips together, you hoped you could share his pain this way. Your eyes were smart, urging your voice to take a breather, whilst they gazed at his lips. Those lips that turned you greedy the moment you saw first laid eyes on them. And his trembling breaths of despair were enough for you to finally dispose of any form of hesitation.

For you finally moved to kiss him ever so gently on the lips.

With your kiss, you were there for him, in spite of it all. In spite of the violence and the tears. And the moment you instantly felt Jim kiss you back, you knew you were hopelessly his.

All the sudden, a dose of sweetness was infused with the salty kisses, weakening the flavor of the beer that lingered in his mouth. Selfishly, the need for comfort vanished. For all you needed was him. In every possible manner. Safe to say, Jim wholeheartedly agreed.

A sudden injection of passion entered your systems, setting your bodies in its entirety, in flames. Which also included the loins. Powerful enough for you to straddle him, powerful enough for Jim to flip you down to hover over you. And certainly powerful enough for the both of you to make love.

You treasured it all. The manner in which his fingers were precise, hooking on to your panties to gingerly peel them out of your frame. The manner in which his eyes gazed upon your own, then traveling all the way south to take in the sight of your now exposed opening, that dripped with wetness, blushing in its own means and begging him to explore it. Thus, it was to be expected, when you welcomed him inside you effortlessly. As if it had waited for him all your life.

Even for the first time, Jim was fast, and was rough. Yet surprisingly, you did not care. You knew where it originated. And it seemed most apt.

While he moved in body, he fled in heart. Away from the horrors, away from the pain. This resulted from his need for a distraction. Amidst the syncopated moans that filled the car, you cupped his face. Looking right into his hazel orbs, you witnessed his need. His need for a distraction. And at the peak of climax, you witnessed his desperation. His desperation, that urged you to never him go.

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

         (Present)      

“I failed the test…”

Jim uttered low, capturing your attention. With your face buried in his neck, you heard it louder than ever. Tilting your head, you sat up straight to face him, confusion taking over. After reaching climax following a session of passionate and exciting love-making in a restaurant toilet booth, there you both were in recovery. Never did you expect him to break the silence with a statement such as this.

“What do you mean?” You inquired in a half whisper.

“The Psych test…” Jim elaborated, while you proceeded to put your cardigan top back on,  “…for the LAPD gig” sighing, he was downcast “I failed that shit…”

“No….” You breathed. The disappoint that was rife in his tone, somehow pierced through your heart. Thus, ushering in a wave of sadness that came crashing in, “Baby, I’m so sorry…” you said as you embraced him tight. To your surprise, Jim held you tightly in his arms in return. For when he buried his face on the crook of your neck and remained in silence for a mere few seconds, it was evident that was what he was required of. A rush of butteries attacked as you gently cupped his face.  You loved this man, and your heart was the witness.

“Fuck the cops if the they can’t relate” you said through gritted teeth, before kissing both his cheeks, “Fuck ‘em! Cause something better is comin’ ” you added with a soft smile, while your thumb ran over his upper lip, “We just gotta ...keep our heads straight”

To your relief, Jim seemed amused, “Speaking from experience?”

You smiled with pride, “You could say that…”

Both of you chuckled. “The point is…” you continued with a deep sigh, and huge smile, “I’m glad you’re back for good, baby”

Except for his own smile, it vanished right then. And in turn, his eyes watered and they shone, reflecting nothing but desperation and vulnerability. You took pride in being the one to witness it, just as you did that fateful night a few months back. Stroking your head with both hands, his forehead gently touched yours:

“¡Eres mia!” He breathed deep.

   You’re mine!  

How dare he? Expanding with immense warmth and impatience, it did not take long for your heart to gain rapid pace, as it was your very first time.

“¡Si, para siempre!”  You answered with confidence. For it was simply the truth.

   Yes, Forever! 

——————————————————

Index

UCLA : The University of California, Los Angeles Salud: Spanish term for “Cheers!” Guapa: Spanish term for Beautiful, Gorgeous Taquitos: A Mexican Food Dish Pisto: Mexican slang. A general term for an alcoholic beverage (usually beer) USC: University of Southern California Fallujah: A city in Iraq Papi: Spanish Term for Daddy Puta: Derogatory Spanish term for bitch, whore

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[thatbloodymuggle]

the one with the contaminated beer bottle

Tongue Tied 1/?

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word count: 2.6k

warnings: cursing ig? mentions of death

read it on wattpad

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-

"Miss Connolly, what makes you think you'd be a good fit for emancipation?"

The unbothered judge flipped through a stack of papers, glasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose. The seventeen-year-old shifted uncomfortably in her seat between her uncle and her lawyer. It was painfully evident that all four of them, the judge, the lawyer, the uncle, and the girl, would rather be anywhere else.

"Well," the girl coughed to clear her throat, "I believe that I have the facilities to thrive on my own. I have a paid off house and car in my name from my mom's will, a sizeable amount of savings from my dad's, and a steady income from my job. It's not huge, but I'm hoping to build it up over the summer. I'm also on track to go to UNC Chapel Hill with my test scores and my dad's legacy, so education won't be a problem."

The air in the room seemed to get thicker with each word. The girl's throat was drying, and she felt the sweat building up on her palms. The office was silent apart from the nail-tapping of the lawyer, the occasional cough from the judge, and her uncle's chair squeaking.

"Overall, I think I'm just as capable to provide for myself, if not more, than my uncle. I believe I am responsible enough to be recognized as an adult, and I really want this for myself," she finished.

The girl let out a huge sigh she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. The drab room grew silent again apart from the bored "hmm" from the judge. Her uncle squeaked in his chair again. The nail-tapping from the lawyer continued.

"Mr. Connolly, do you believe your neice is a good candidate for emancipation?"

The greying man didn't hesitate to grumble a rushed 'Yes' while stroking his untamed beard. The judge nodded in response.

"And Mrs. Watson, based on your assessment, do you too believe that Miss Connolly is a good candidate for emancipation?"

The lawyer stopped her nail tapping and shot a plastic smile towards the judge. "Yes Sir. From my meetings with Miss Connolly, I believe she is a perfect fit," molasses dripped from her deep voice, gravelly from years of smoking.

"Well," the judge shuffled a few more papers, "Then it seems you've made my job here easy. With great references and support from your uncle and reviewer, I don't see any reason to deny you what you want. By the power vested in me by the North Carolina Judicial System, I declare Rose-Ann Mae Connolly to be an emancipated minor."

The air in the room thinned and Rosie felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders.

The next few minutes of papers and signatures were a blur. Her body carried her through the motions, but her mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in the realm of 'Holy shit. I'm free'. She swiftly shook the judge's hand, and collected her paperwork. Her uncle was already out the door, and she didn't hesitate to follow.

The pair weaved in and out of hallways and staircases towards the exit in silence. Rosie's mind was reeling with too many emotions, and David Connolly just wanted to get home and continue his marathon of Duck Dynasty. Before she knew it, they'd reached her mom's Mini-Cooper and his 2004 Toyota Corolla parked side by side. David Connolly continued to move in silence as he transferred a large suitcase from his trunk to her backseat.

"Well, uh," he swung the door of her red car shut, "I guess this is it."

He shifted awkwardly, and scratched at his overgrown beard. The Connollys cleared their throats simultaneously in a pathetic attempt to fill the awkward silence.

"Yeah, looks like it," Rosie sighed with a tight-lipped smile. Her uncle nodded sharply and unlocked his dented car door.

"Drive safe, then. You have my number if something goes wrong," the greying man grunted while climbing into his beat-up car.

Rosie waved a breathy, "Bye," just as he slammed the car door shut. He didn't hesitate to pull, quite recklessly, out of the parking lot. The 17-year-old watched the Toyota drive away until she could no longer see it. She shook herself back to reality as the car blinked from existence. Slowly, a grin took over her face. Her heart beat out of her chest in excitement.

She could finally go home.

Rosie jumped into her infamous red Mini-Cooper and slammed the door shut behind her. She gripped the wheel, her grin growing so wide it hurt. She released the scream of excitement bubbling inside her. She must have looked crazy to anyone passing by, but Rosie didn't care.

She was finally going home.

The young girl forced herself to settle down, but a smile remained. Rosie inserted her mother's Beatles for Sale CD into the car player and prepared herself for the 2-hour drive to the OBX. The engine revved in sync with the silky, smooth voice of Paul McCartney. Rosie zoomed out of the parking lot in record time to begin her trek down the North Carolina state road. Signs, farms, and gas stations passed, but the only thing on Rosie's mind was home.

God, she'd missed her friends. She'd missed late nights at The Wreck with Kie, and study sessions on the docks with Pope. She'd missed impromptu races against John B, and the whole crew dog-piling on John B's hammocks. Hell, she'd even missed rolling blunts with JJ and their constant bickering.

Rosie's fingers drummed against the steering wheel to the beat of Eight Days A Week. The warmth in her stomach and the smile on her face felt unfamiliar. This was the first time she'd felt true joy since her mom had passed just 4 months earlier. Finally, everything seemed to be falling back into place.

By the time the teenager had reached the ferry, she'd cycled through two Beatles CD's and one Bob Dylan. Just a little further, she thought to herself as she boarded the large boat. Her phone buzzed beside her. She scrambled to grab it, nearly dropping it.

12:01 P.M   Kie: any news?

1:43 P.M   Pope: How'd it go?

1:44 P.M   Pope: Btw, if u can't come back we'll survive. U know like good riddance see u never  type vibe

1:45 P.M   Pope: Sorry that was JJ

1:45 P.M   Pope: He's an ass

3:59 P.M   JB: ur KILLING us here. what's the verdict!?

Rosie grinned at the texts she'd received from her friends over the past couple of hours. She began to type a reply, but deleted it midway. She was so close by now that it would be more fun to surprise them instead.

The teenager leaned against the railing next to her car. The salty smell and cool breeze tickling her nose was a bliss like no other. Rosie peered into the distance, catching sight of a blurry island in the distance. A soft grin tugged at her lips. She closed her eyes and threw her head back, enjoying the ocean air and peaceful waves she'd missed oh-so-much.

The warmth in her gut grew as the ferry approached the dock. Within minutes, Rosie was driving her Mini-Cooper off the massive boat.

The Outer Banks. Home. She couldn't believe she was finally back. Rosie turned onto the main road and drove towards the small home one of her dearest friends inhabited. She'd drop off her things at her own house later. She just couldn't wait a second longer before seeing her friends.

Rosie usually hated driving through the Figure Eight, but even the sight of the lavish houses and boys in polos put a smile on her face. It was the first sense of familiarity she'd felt in months. Minutes passed and her heart raced as she got closer and closer. Before she knew it, the Chateau was just in the distance. Another uncontrollable grin took over Rosie's face. She was bouncing in her seat in excitement.

She pulled her small car onto the gravel driveway and jumped out. Rosie stared at the shack in disbelief for a brief moment. She was afraid she'd never see the beat-up place ever again, but here she was. Kie's familiar shriek sounded from inside the house. This was enough to send Rosie racing towards the front door. The screen door nearly swung off its hinges from her force.

Four startled faces shot towards the door. There was a moment of silence: Rosie beaming in the doorway, John B dropping a half-full bottle of beer, Pope hanging sideways off the couch, Kie dropping her jaw, and JJ, well, JJ looking unbothered

The few seconds of silence were short-lived as the room burst out into indistinguishable screams.

"Oh my god!"

"You're alive!"

"She's a free woman!"

Rosie was tackled by Kie, quickly followed by John B and Pope. The four teenagers nearly tumbled to the ground.

"Guys... can't.. breathe..." Rosie struggled from underneath John B's armpit.

"It's what you get for leaving us hanging all day! We thought we'd never see you again," Kie laughed, squeezing her friend even tighter.

"Oh come on, Kie," Rosie wiggled out of the suffocating group hug. "I wanted it to be a surprise! I did good too, didn't I? Gotta keep you on your toes," she giggled.

"It was a pretty good surprise, Kie," Pope laughed, swinging an arm over Rosie's left shoulder while John B took her right.

"I've seen better. You know, could've added some flair: fireworks, balloons, a unicorn. 5 out of 10 at best," a certain blond piped up from the couch.

Rosie Connolly locked eyes with JJ Maybank. Usually, her mortal nemesis—a pest, if you will—but today, a friend. A mischievous grin took over her face, matching his playful smirk.

"Hey to you too, shithead," she quipped. "Aw, how sweet! You got me a 'welcome home' gift," Rosie swiftly shot forward and snagged his beer bottle mid-swig. JJ yanked her arm back in an attempt to salvage his beer, but she'd already stuck her tongue inside it.

"Oh, sorry, did you want this?" Rosie cocked her head at a pissed off JJ. "How rude of me! Here, you can have it," the girl feigned innocence, but couldn't wipe the devious smirk from her lips.

JJ snatched the beer back, "Oh nah," he spit inside the bottle, swirled it around a little, and handed it back to Rosie, "It's all yours. Welcome home, bitch."

She crinkled her nose in disgust at the contaminated drink. JJ leaned back in his seat, clearly pleased with himself. Rosie moved to dump the drink over his head, but John B intercepted before it could escalate.

"Hey hey, no need to get all loved up now. Let's keep the PDA to a minimum," John B snatched the bottle and set it on the counter. He tossed two new bottles to his bickering friends. Rosie caught it gracefully, and fell back onto the couch next to Kie.

"I swear, in some past life you two were an old married couple," Kie laughed, draping her legs over Rosie's. The Pogues chorused in laughter, apart from JJ and Rosie. He shot her his infamously infuriating smirk, to which she took a massive swig of beer.

"Damn, I've missed this," Rosie moaned at the bitter taste. "Haven't had a drink in four months."

Rosie brought the bottle back to her lips to take a second sip, but paused upon the realization that all four pairs of eyes were trained on her expectantly.

"What?" she cried, "Can I not have a drink without being stared down?"

"What do you mean what? We haven't seen you in four months and all you've gotta say is how much you love beer?" Pope deadpanned.

"Rose-Ann Mae Connolly, I knew you were always just mooching off of me!" John B jokingly accused. Rosie rolled her eyes at the two boys and set down the bottle.

"What've you been up to without us? How was the end of the school year? How was the trial?" Kie ignored John B and turned to face her friend with curious eyes.

"School? Boring. Living with David? Boring. Trial? Boring. And there you have it! 4 months in 5 seconds!" Rosie entangled her legs with Kiara's, letting her feet fall onto John B's lap.

Kiara began to protest at the severe lack of information, but was interrupted.

"A woman of many words," JJ grumbled from across the couch with his eyes closed as if he were mid-nap.

"Seriously, guys," Rosie huffed, "That's all it was—boring. But I'm here now, a legal adult, and I just wanna have fun, so let's do something fucking insane!" she diverted her friends away from asking anymore questions.

Truth be told, the last few months had been absolutely miserable. Grief is a heavy emotion. The great thing about having a family and friends is they can help carry some of the weight. But Rosie had been forced to spend those months grieving over the loss of her mother alone, and she was ready to move past it.

"Fair enough. Why don't we go late-night diving off the cliff up Old Miller Road later?" Kie suggested.

"Do you want to die?" Pope deadpanned at the same time that JJ spoke, "Sounds exhilarating".

"Oh, come on Pope. It's my first night back! Do it or you're lame," Rosie laughed at her nervous friend.

"Then I'm lame."

"Well, 4 to 5 majority rules," John B clapped his hands, "we'll leave from here at 10:00."

Four out of the five teenagers cheered. Pope crossed his arms and grumbled in disapproval.

Rosie pulled herself from the confines of Kie, "Sounds like a plan, but I should probably head back to my place for a little bit before. Need to unpack and, uh, clear some stuff out," she coughed awkwardly at the last part. Her friends nodded in understanding.

"I can come with if you want? You know, help you unpack and stuff," Kiara offered a warm smile.

Rosie smiled back, but shook her head, "Thanks, Kie, but I've got it covered."

"Are you sure?" John B added.

"Really," Rosie emphasized. "I'll be fine. I need to sort some papers out, anyways." The newly-emancipated teenager reluctantly lifted herself from the comfy couch and the warmth of her friends. "I'll be back soon. Don't you worry your pretty little head," she made a show of ruffling John B's untamed hair.

"Hurry back!" JJ's voice dripped with sarcasm underneath the hat that was now covering his face.

"Just for you," Rosie quipped. She did one last once-over at her friends before swinging the unstable door open. "See you soon!" she called as she strode back to her car.

The chatter of her friends died out as she moved further from the house and closer to the Mini-Cooper. A different sort of happiness flooded her body. Being isolated from the people she loved for so long was like losing a piece of her heart, and she'd finally found it. It was a warmth like no other, and as she drove home, she could only count down the minutes until she'd be with them again.

-

this is unedited oops

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