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

[swytdoll]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆Based off the song ‘do i wanna know’ by hozier.

Grieving someone who is still alive is an excruciating form of heartbreak. It's the torment of knowing that the person you once cherished so deeply continues to exist, yet they are no longer a tangible part of your life. Each day, you bear the immense burden of their absence, even though they persist in the world.

You find yourself yearning for the sound of their voice, the melody of their laughter, and the solace of their presence. Memories of shared moments inundate your mind, and you are overwhelmed by a profound sense of loss. It's like an open wound that never fully heals, perpetually reopening with every reminder of what once was.

The most agonizing part is the awareness that they are living their life, perhaps moving forward, while you remain ensnared in a state of mourning. There is no closure, no definitive farewell. Instead, you are left with an enduring ache, a constant reminder of what might have been. Grieving someone who is still alive means learning to coexist with a ghost, a specter of the person you once loved, and finding a way to navigate life despite the relentless pain.

The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows on the walls. The man sat slumped on the worn-out sofa, the silence of his home almost deafening. In his right hand, he gripped a half-empty bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid swishing gently as he raised it to his lips. His other hand clutched his phone, the screen dark and lifeless.

His mind wandered back to better days, days when laughter filled the house and the scent of your sweet perfume lingered in the air. He could almost see you, with that radiant smile and sparkling eyes. You used to sit beside him on this very sofa, head resting on his shoulder, hand intertwined with his. The memories were vivid, each one a sharp pang of longing and regret.

He remembered your first date, the nervous excitement, and the way you looked in that red dress. He could still hear your laughter, a sound that once brought him so much joy. But now, it was just a haunting echo in his mind. The fights, the misunderstandings, the slow drift apart – it all played out like a tragic movie he couldn't turn off.

He took another swig of whiskey, hoping to drown the sorrow that clung to him like a second skin. The phone in his hand buzzed, a message from his friend Gojo asking how he was doing. He stared at it for a moment, then put it down. How could he explain the emptiness, the aching void left behind? All he had now were memories and the bitter taste of whiskey.

With a deep breath, he scrolled through his contacts until he found your name. His thumb hovered over the call button, his heart pounding in his chest. He was scared you wouldn’t pick up, scared of the silence that might follow. But he needed to hear your voice, even if it was just for a moment.

He pressed the button, bringing the phone to his ear. Each ring felt like an eternity, and he could feel his anxiety rising with each passing second. Just as he was about to hang up, he heard a groggy voice on the other end.

"Nanami?" your voice was soft, laced with sleep and confusion.

His heart sank at the familiar sound, a wave of emotions crashing over him. "It's me," he said, his voice trembling. "I... I didn't mean to wake you."

There was a pause, and he could almost see you rubbing your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of slumber. "Is everything okay?" you asked, concern evident in your tone.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just... I needed to hear your voice," he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I miss you. I miss us."

The silence on the other end was deafening, and he feared he had said too much. But then, you sighed softly, a sound that was both comforting and heartbreaking. “Don’t you miss me anymore?” he adds, his words are desperate, hand gripping the bottle so tightly he thinks it might splinter under the pressure. “Nanami. . . it’s late and—“

“I can’t let you go. Please don’t do this. . .please don’t do this to me.” the burn in his throat is undeniable now, amber eyes glossing over, lips trembling.

“It’s over Nanami—“ then he hears it. A male voice in the background, “come back to bed love.”

He whimpers.

“I have to go. . . take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice barely audible. "You too."

As the call ended, he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down his face, each one a testament to the love he felt but could never fully express. The room felt emptier, colder, as he cried, feeling the weight of your impossible love pressing down on him.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Natal Astrology: Difficulty and Struggles During Pregnancy Placements & Aspects “ I Don’t Want To Go Through Pregnancy Again”

Pregnancy is a time when life begins to feel electric. There’s a buzz in the air—the thrill of new life forming, the warmth that comes as people begin to recognize you are ushering a soul into the world. It all feels surreal. The moment is enchanting, beautiful, sacred.

You can’t wait to see your belly grow and expand, to feel the tiny kicks of your baby within the womb. You look forward to doctor’s appointments that deepen your connection, to telling stories and singing lullabies through your skin, to massaging your belly with oils while whispering affirmations over your child, to praying over them, loving them in ways only you can. You envision baby showers, gender reveals—milestones that feel magical, unforgettable.

But not every woman experiences pregnancy this way. Not every pregnancy feels exciting. Not every woman feels comforted, at peace, or held in warmth. Not every woman connects with the life growing within her. Not every woman feels those first flutters or reassuring kicks. This is the reality: pregnancy comes in many forms. It is not one-size-fits-all.

There are women who, from the very beginning, feel an ache deep within. Their hearts drop the moment they see the positive test. A wave of stress, pain, fear, frustration overwhelms them. Something primal and uncontrollable stirs within. Old memories rise to the surface—traumas that had been buried. There’s discomfort in their bodies. A longing for peace. Some struggle to eat. Some face health issues they never imagined.

The dream of a beautiful pregnancy slips away, replaced by a battle with a body that no longer feels like home. Their backs ache. Legs swell. Feet throb. Their faces change. Test after test. Doctors searching for answers they cannot always find. Things spiral beyond their control. And panic sets in. They begin to question: Will I make it through these nine months?

Fear settles into their bones. They withdraw. They become still—not by choice, but because they must. They can’t work. They can’t do. All they can do is exist—trapped in a body that feels foreign, in a state that feels unbearable. Not every pregnancy is beautiful. Yes, each is unique. But uniqueness doesn’t always mean joy. Uniqueness doesn’t always mean ease. Uniqueness doesn’t always deliver the pregnancy she once imagined.

Today, we’re going to explore the astrological placements and aspects that can indicate a difficult pregnancy.

Moon-Saturn

This aspect may suggest a pregnancy that feels prolonged or burdensome. You might experience a pregnancy that feels longer than others might, leading to a desire for it to end. There could be physical or emotional difficulties, such as struggling with work, feeling unhappy, dealing with depressive episodes, or feeling unsupported. The pregnancy may feel like a constant struggle to create a stable environment to bring your child into the world. It can also indicate a sense of isolation, where you may not be surrounded by family during the pregnancy. In some cases, this aspect might signify the possibility of miscarriage followed by pregnancy, or difficulties both in getting pregnant and maintaining the pregnancy.

Moon-Mars

This aspect can be associated with challenging, even violent, situations during pregnancy. It may indicate a partner who is angry or aggressive, which could make the pregnancy feel less comforting. There’s a potential for premature birth or early labor, possibly requiring a C-section. The individual may experience a lot of stress, emotional intensity, or opposition during their pregnancy. They may struggle with health issues, such as high blood pressure, or face challenges in taking care of their well-being. Additionally, they might experience negativity from family or others, leading to constant conflict during the pregnancy.

Venus-Saturn

This aspect can indicate a lack of support and nurturing during pregnancy. The person may feel very alone, without family or close friends to provide emotional support. In some cases, this aspect might manifest in an unhealthy relationship, where the partner is emotionally cold or distant during the pregnancy, leading to a transactional or burdensome relationship dynamic. There could be a sense of disconnection from the child, and the individual may feel the weight of responsibility as overwhelming, possibly seeing the pregnancy as a burden on both their relationship and their life.

Pluto in the 5th house

This placement may indicate a challenging pregnancy, potentially involving deep emotional struggles, such as depression or being in a volatile, possibly abusive environment. There may be a sense that the pregnancy is restricting personal freedom or putting life on hold. The pregnancy could be traumatic, either due to the conception itself or the experience of carrying the child. This aspect could also bring up old wounds and feelings of discomfort, making the pregnancy feel like an uncomfortable experience. There may be a need to hide the pregnancy, as it could be kept secret or not openly displayed.

Chiron in the 5th house

This placement can point to fears around pregnancy and motherhood. The individual may feel inadequate or unprepared, and pregnancy could be a source of anxiety or discomfort. There may be a struggle to accept the pregnancy, possibly even considering abortion. As the pregnancy progresses, there may be a sense of unease with the physical changes, and motherhood may feel more like a challenge than a blessing.

Uranus in the 5th house

This placement suggests an unstable or unpredictable pregnancy, with unexpected events that disrupt plans. It can indicate health complications, premature birth, or instability throughout the pregnancy. There could be a sense of chaos or a lack of control, possibly including an accidental pregnancy or one that goes against the individual’s plans. It could also represent a pregnancy with a partner who wasn’t intended or wanted, such as a casual hookup or a stranger. Financial instability or a lack of proper support for the child may also be present during the pregnancy.

Moon in the 12th House

This placement can indicate a pregnancy marked by emotional isolation. The mother may not have much support around her and could spend most of her pregnancy alone. Mental health struggles, particularly depression, may intensify—especially if she’s unable to take the medication she normally relies on. Unconscious and subconscious wounds often surface during this time, stirring what has long been buried. Triggers may become constant, and she might feel emotionally overwhelmed. She may experience a deep sense that no one truly understands her or that the love she longs for is absent. Feelings of being unprepared for motherhood may arise, accompanied by a belief that she lacks the emotional tools to become the mother she wants to be.

Lilith in the 5th House

With Lilith here, the shadow self may awaken during pregnancy. The mother might resist traditional norms and rebel against conventional ideas of what pregnancy or motherhood “should” look like. This rebellion can manifest in reckless behaviors—such as smoking, drinking, using drugs, or refusing medical guidance—not always with malicious intent, but as a form of unconscious protest or inner chaos. She may not want the child or feel ambivalent about motherhood, possibly considering adoption or relying heavily on others to care for the baby. Pregnancy could trigger her own inner child wounds, leading to unresolved anger and rage, sometimes directed toward herself, others, or even the pregnancy. She might feel ostracized from the world of other mothers, out of place in the maternal experience. Fearing the loss of her former life, she may contemplate abortion or find it unbearable to be in her changing body. Her actions, driven by defiance, may be risky or self-sabotaging, as a way to assert control over a life phase she never asked for.

Venus–Neptune

This woman may have romanticized pregnancy—believing it would bring radiance, softness, and a deeper connection to her feminine essence. However, the reality can feel disillusioning. Instead of blooming, she may feel let down by her body, her emotions, or her environment. Feelings of abandonment and emotional invisibility may surface. Her relationship with her partner could suffer: arguments may arise, intimacy might fade, and the dream of building a family could begin to unravel. The idealistic vision of partnership and motherhood may dissolve into confusion, sadness, or longing, leaving her feeling emotionally adrift during a time she had imagined would be filled with love and support.

Moon in the 8th House

This placement can lead to financial losses during pregnancy, making it difficult to establish stability. Emotional shifts and unresolved trauma may surface, leading to mental instability. The pregnancy may bring a strong urge to heal, but if you’re not in a place where healing feels accessible or welcome, the experience can become overwhelming. This can result in a deeply triggering emotional journey through pregnancy.

Moon in the 6th House (Afflicted Moon)

This can indicate health issues—both for yourself and the baby. You may find yourself bedridden or unable to work. High blood pressure, difficulty with mobility, and disruption to your daily routine are possible. There may be a sense of physical and emotional weakness, and pregnancy could trigger hereditary or genetic conditions. The experience might feel as if it’s breaking you down.

Moon in the 10th House (Afflicted Moon)

Career struggles may arise during pregnancy. You could lose your job or find it difficult to maintain your previous professional presence. There may be unwanted exposure—your pregnancy could be announced before you’re ready, or private matters might become public. You might be in a difficult or abusive relationship that is publicly visible, which can feel humiliating or intrusive. People may try to impose their beliefs or control your decisions during this time, leaving you feeling isolated, judged, or placed in an uncomfortable spotlight.

Moon in Scorpio (Afflicted Moon)

This placement can indicate a highly private or even secret pregnancy, often linked to deep emotional trauma. The conception may follow a traumatic event or occur within a controlling or abusive relationship. You may feel stripped of bodily autonomy or support, forced to navigate everything alone. Betrayal, dishonesty, or emotional manipulation from a partner could be involved. There may be a sense of having to work harder than ever to secure what you need, both emotionally and practically.

Moon-Pluto

A Moon-Pluto connection can bring ancestral, genetic, and deeply rooted emotional trauma to the surface during pregnancy. It may push you into emotional territory you’re not prepared for, increasing your need for therapeutic support. Mental and emotional instability can become pronounced. Your mother may become violent, distant, or unsupportive, and you might feel cornered or trapped—both at work and at home. The home environment may feel toxic, and friends or family may not support your pregnancy. Intense emotions, depression, and even suicidal thoughts may emerge during this time.

Saturn-Dominant Charts

Saturn’s influence can result in long, difficult pregnancies marked by isolation and hard work. You may find yourself ignoring your body’s signals and struggling mentally, physically, and emotionally. Pregnancy might feel slow, burdensome, or joyless. Feelings of depression and melancholy are common, along with a sense of needing to work extra hard to create stability. Life may feel like it’s regressing during this time, rather than progressing.

[iniquitousyearning]

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->

[livingdeadblondequeen]

Tangled Hearts Pt 1

Pairing: Jenneel x Reader

Summary: Jensen and Danneel meets one of their favorite actresses who is also a fan. What happens when sparks fly?

Rated Mature/Explicit: there be smut ahead!

Tags: Threesome, explicit sexual content,

AN: This is a work of fiction. I mean no disrespect to the actors or their families. Best to think that I am writing an alternate reality version of them and events (Some of this is to myself so that I can alter timelines a little.) It starts in 2014.

I try to keep the Y/N’s appearance as neutral as possible. However, I will have mentions of the Y/N looking up at Danneel, so I do have her as shorter. I just don’t state how much of a difference.  

~~~~~~

A wave of cool air hit Y/N right in the face as she and her fellow The Walking Dead co-stars returned to their hotel after a late dinner. San Diego Comic-Con remained a whirlwind of excitement, and Y/N was still buzzing from the event's electrifying energy. The fans' unwavering enthusiasm for the show, and especially for her character, was a constant source of amazement. A few devoted fans had approached them outside, their voices filled with praise and excited questions, causing her and Norman to be the last ones of their group to make it inside. The continued love for the show, a testament to its enduring quality, was a comforting warmth against the cool night air.

The two of them caught up with the others and headed to the hotel bar for some drinks. Y/N noticed Lauren had broken off from them and was now off to the side with a man and a woman. She thought they were fans for a second, but once Y/N got a better look, her breath caught. Lauren was talking to Jensen and Danneel Ackles. 

Jensen’s classically handsome features and intense gaze created a compelling aura. His confidence was readily apparent, yet he projected an easygoing charm that invited interaction. A playful spark in his eyes and a slow, knowing smile suggested a man capable of captivating a room without speaking. His casual attire, a button-down shirt worn over a t-shirt, did not obscure the breadth of his shoulders or the strength of his arms.

Danneel, who was beside him, was even more strikingly beautiful than Y/N had thought. Her green sundress flattered her beautiful body but did not outshine the remarkable beauty of her face. Her auburn hair, framing her warm, mischievous brown eyes, seemed to hold countless stories, stories that deeply intrigued Y/N. Y/N had long admired, and perhaps even been infatuated with, the couple. 

Despite the distance, the warmth of their mutual smiles was evident, a silent acknowledgment of shared acquaintance and industry camaraderie. Y/N considered interrupting the trio to introduce herself. She would meet Jensen tomorrow before a panel they were both a part of, but she liked the idea of something more personal. She had just made up her mind when Lauren looked over, and their eyes met. Her friend’s smile brightened before she motioned for her to join them. Once she was close, Lauren spoke. "Y/N, I’d love for you to meet some friends of mine. Jensen and Danneel."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," Jensen said, extending his hand to her. "Dee and I are big fans of yours."

Y/N had been a core part of "The Walking Dead" since its inception, portraying Rick Grimes' sister. Her character's journey was one of immense change and growth, from the naive woman at the start of the apocalypse to the hardened survivor she became. Her ability to depict this transformation added significant depth and emotional resonance to the show, solidifying her as a beloved figure.

"Thank you. I'm a fan of yours, too," she replied, feeling the thrill of mutual respect. A warmth spread through her palm, a subtle heat that lingered even after Jensen released her hand. Conversations like these were the quiet joys in an actress's life, especially when they came from fellow actors she admired.

"Your performance and what you bring to your character has just been great to watch. Not to mention she is a badass," Danneel chimed in, her voice carrying genuine sincerity. Her lips quirked, and her eyes held a playful glint. “A beautiful badass at that.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected praise before preening a little. She couldn’t help it when hearing the compliment from such a gorgeous woman, especially given the complex dynamic of her character's relationship to Rick.

“It’s true,” Jensen added. “Dee never comes with me to Comic Con, but when she saw that we were both going to be on the Fan Favorites Panel, and that she'd have the chance to meet the woman who brought one of her favorite characters to life, she jumped at the chance to come with me.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at the blush blossoming across Danneel’s cheeks. “That is sweet of you.”

“And thanks to us running into each other on our way in for a drink, you didn’t even have to wait until tomorrow,” Lauren commented with a laugh. 

”Speaking of which, I am sure your friends are waiting on you, so we won’t keep you.” Jensen stated as he nodded to where the rest of their castmates had disappeared. 

Y/N felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of ending the conversation with the couple and was about to suggest they meet up the next day if their busy schedules allowed when Lauren spoke up. “Why don’t you join us? Some of us weren’t ready to wrap up the night and figured some drinks after a day of traveling would help.”

“Oh, are you sure?” Danneel asked. “We don’t want to impose.”

“Yes!” Y/N answered, cringing at how quickly she responded. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I mean, yes, you should join us. The others won’t mind a bit.” 

Jensen and Danneel nodded before Jensen motioned for the two women in front of them to lead the way. “Ladies.”

Y/N and Lauren headed into the bar and back to the set of tables that the cast had taken over. They looked up in greeting, and Lauren quickly introduced their guests. The waitress took their drink orders as they took their seats. Y/N was surprised when Danneel took the seat next to her instead of Lauren, but she guessed she shouldn’t be since Jensen was the one who worked with Lauren

The chatter in the group quickly started up again, including Jensen and Danneel, with little effort, talking about common people they worked with in the past that they had in common, though it wasn’t long before Y/N found herself mostly talking to the couple.

Y/N noticed a text coming in from Norman, which should have been odd since he was only a few seats down, but knowing Norman, it wasn’t. She glanced down at him, not surprised to see him looking at her. She excused herself from talking to Jensen and Danneel about a band that the three were all fans of and opened the Lock Screen on her phone.

N: Looks like you have some new admirers

Y/N: lol, yeah, I wish

N: Like they want to either worship the ground you walk on or just worship you. 

Y/N: Oh fuck off. 

N: 😍<-J & D looking at you

Y/N scoffed a little as she put her phone back down and returned to her conversation with a smile. 

Time passed quickly as they talked, and her castmates disappeared from their seats as they called it a night until only Y/N, Danneel, and Jensen remained. While Lauren and others sitting near them had been active participants in their discussion, that had dwindled to just the three of them over the last hour. The Ackles told Y/N about their little girl Justice, who was a few months past her first birthday, whereas Y/N talked about her life in Georgia and LA. It had been some time since Y/N felt as connected as she did to Jensen and Danneel. Especially so quickly.

As the conversation deepened, so did the unspoken current between them. Subtle touches, a lingering hand on her arm, Danneel's thigh brushing against hers, sent shivers down Y/N's spine. She was acutely aware of Danneel's proximity, the warmth of her body radiating against Y/N's side. Jensen, across from them, watched her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

Suddenly, Norman's earlier words echoed in her mind – were Jensen and Danneel… interested in her? The thought ignited a fire within her, a dangerous, exhilarating possibility. The longer they talked, the stronger the pull became, an undeniable attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface, finally breaking through.

Jensen glanced around the nearly deserted bar. Only he, Danneel, and Y/N remained; even the staff had retreated to the back room, the soft clinking of glasses now a distant murmur. "Ladies," he drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I think it's time we moved this party elsewhere."

Y/N, captivated by the way the dim light played across Jensen's features, the subtle shadow of stubble on his jaw, felt a thrill course through her. "I can't believe how long we've been talking," she confessed, her voice husky. "I'm not ready for the night to end."

Danneel, ever the observant one, smiled knowingly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation elsewhere? Perhaps you'd like to join us for another drink?" she suggested, her gaze lingering on Y/N, a silent invitation in the way her lips curved. "Up in our room."

Y/N's heart pounded, a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Was this a good idea? The thought of spending more time with Jensen and Danneel alone was both exhilarating and terrifying. But something in Danneel's gaze, a silent invitation laced with unspoken desires, made her say, "I wouldn't want to miss out."

"What do you have to offer?" Y/N asked, her voice barely a whisper, a playful challenge in her eyes. She leaned slightly, the soft fabric of her dress brushing against Danneel’s arm.

Jensen leaned forward, his eyes intense, the warmth of his gaze like a physical touch. "What do you want?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air.

Y/N toyed with a strand of her hair, a playful smile gracing her lips. “Hmmm, whatever you have to offer," she teased, her eyes flickering between Jensen and Danneel.

Jensen and Danneel exchanged a knowing glance, a silent conversation passing between them, a shared understanding that sent a jolt of anticipation through Y/N. "Then," Jensen drawled, his voice husky with a promise that sent shivers down Y/N's spine, "you can have anything you want."

“How could I turn down an offer like that?” Y/N replied, a soft laugh escaping her lips as they stood.

Danneel smiled knowingly at Y/N, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she gestured toward the elevator. "Shall we?"

The elevator ride was electric, with a palpable hum of anticipation that crackled in the confined space. Y/N felt a thrill, a delicious anticipation, a sense of daring that made her pulse quicken and her core clench in need. She met their gazes with a knowing smirk playing on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken desires that hung heavily in the air. This was going to be an unforgettable night, a memory etched in the histories of her most intimate experiences.

The doors slid open with a soft sigh, revealing the dimly lit hallway of their floor. Jensen placed a casual, yet possessive, hand on her back, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her spine, sending a shiver down her spine. He guided her toward their room, his touch a silent promise of the pleasures to come, with Danneel in front of them to unlock the door.

"Make yourself at home," Jensen said, his voice smooth and low, a silken caress that sent a wave of warmth through her. He gestured towards a sitting area with a sofa, its deep cushions promising comfort and relaxation. "Drinks?"

"Definitely," Y/N replied, her eyes sparkling with a playful challenge, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. "I think some of Danneel’s wine sounds perfect."

Danneel moved with a fluid grace toward the minibar, her movements slow and deliberate, drawing Y/N's attention like a siren's call. Her slim, curvy figure moved with a quiet confidence. She poured three glasses of wine, the glass clinking softly in the quiet room, a delicate counterpoint to the unspoken tension. She handed one to her husband before she handed Y/N her glass, their fingers brushing as she did before taking the seat next to Y/N.

Y/N lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip, her eyes meeting Danneel's gaze over the rim, a spark of shared understanding passing between them. "Delicious.”

Jensen chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, and leaned in, his warm breath ghosting across her ear. "We aim to please," he murmured, a hint of playful dominance in his voice. He paused, his expression shifting to serious, his eyes searching hers. "Y/N, just so you know, at any point, if you want to stop or change your mind, just say so. No questions asked. Okay?"

"Yes," Y/N replied, a confident smile touching her lips, reassured by his sincerity. The warmth of his words dissolved any lingering hesitation. She felt in control, knowing this was a shared experience, a journey they were embarking on together. "What about birth control?"

Jensen and Danneel froze, a flicker of surprise crossing their faces. "I'm clean, and I'm on birth control," Y/N continued, "but I always use condoms as well."

"We're both clean, and I'm also on birth control," Danneel answered. "We... we don't typically use condoms. Not since before we were married."

"What Dee means," Jensen interjected, "is that we don't have any. This might be hard to believe, but we've never done anything like this before."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really?"

"We've talked about it, of course," Jensen explained. "But we've never found anyone we felt this kind of connection with before now. Dee has been with other women, but never in this way, never with us both. We've never found anyone we felt this kind of connection with before now." "Oh," Y/N breathed, her gaze shifting between Danneel and Jensen.

“Have you?” Danneel asked curiously.

“Yes,” Y/N replied. “Never like this, where my partners were married to each other or seriously involved.”

“Then Dee and I are yours,” Jensen said, his voice low. He held out his hand. “We’ll do what you want. We haven’t felt this way before. We want to try this with you. We trust you to show us.” He stepped closer.

The air thrummed with unspoken desires, a palpable tension. Y/N gently cupped Jensen's jaw, tilting his head with a soft touch. Her lips met his, a tender kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, a gentle exploration. Jensen responded with an eager enthusiasm, his hand moving to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. A soft sigh escaped Y/N's lips as the kiss deepened, a sweet expression of her growing affection. When they parted, Danneel's eyes held a warm, inviting glint.

"Now," Y/N commanded, her voice a low purr, "for something more." She rose from the couch, her movements fluid and deliberate, and extended a hand to Danneel. "Come." Danneel, a playful smirk dancing on her lips, accepted the offered hand and stood, her eyes never leaving Y/N's. Y/N shifted her attention to Danneel, her fingertips tracing the sharp line of her cheekbone, a deliberate provocation. Her lips brushed against Danneel's, a fleeting, tantalizing touch. It was a slow, deliberate exploration of sensation, like they were trying to figure out all the best parts. Danneel's tongue traced the edge of Y/N's lips, eliciting a sharp, involuntary gasp.

Danneel moved with a smooth, easy grace, her movements fluid and purposeful. Y/N followed, their movements in sync, a silent dance of desire unfolding in the softly lit room. Danneel stepped in front of Y/N, her presence radiating a warm heat, a magnetic pull that drew Y/N closer. She reached out, her fingers tracing the delicate curve of Y/N's jaw, her touch sending shivers down Y/N's spine. Their lips met in a demanding kiss, a clash of tongues and teeth, a silent declaration of ownership, a merging of desires. Danneel unzipped her dress, the silky fabric whispering as it parted, revealing the dark green lace that hugged her curves. Y/N's breath hitched, her eyes widening at the sight of Danneel's beauty. Her hands moved to explore Danneel's body, tracing the lines of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist. Their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them.

Y/N’s top was undone with a few quick moves from Danneel. Then Y/N shrugged her top off, her gaze never leaving Danneel's. With a flick of her wrist, Danneel unbuttoned Y/N's jeans, pushing them down until they pooled at her feet, revealing dark black lace boyshorts underneath.

"Gorgeous," Danneel breathed, her gaze devouring Y/N's body. She took Y/N's hand, leading her to the bed.

As the women settled onto the mattress, their embrace deepened, their hands exploring each other's bodies while their kiss grew fierce. Danneel pushed Y/N back against the pillows before lying on top of her, their bodies molding together. A low moan escaped Y/N as Danneel's lips trailed down her neck. 

Y/N glanced at Jensen, who had risen and was undressing with a deliberate slowness. The soft light in the room illuminated the sculpted lines of his chest, the defined muscles of his arms and legs, and the smooth expanse of his stomach. Y/N's gaze lingered on the powerful lines of his thighs, the impressive size of his arousal, and the sheer, unadorned perfection of his body. A wave of heat washed over her, a primal appreciation for the sheer physicality of him and Y/N could not tear her eyes away.

“Come here,” she began, but a sharp gasp interrupted her as Danneel’s teeth gently nipped at her right nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through her, a delicious reminder of the power the other woman held over her at that moment.

Reaching for the beautiful man who was with them, her fingers closing around his hardness as Danneel removed her panties. Danneel moved between Y/N’s thighs. Y/N wrapped her hand around Jensen’s length, moving it in a slow, rhythmic motion. Danneel's fingers traced the delicate curve of Y/N's inner thigh, sending a shiver of anticipation through her. She lowered her head, her lips parting, her tongue darting out to taste the slick heat of Y/N's arousal.

Y/N gasped, her body arching involuntarily. Danneel's tongue worked its magic, teasing and tantalizing, sending waves of pleasure through her.

Craving a deeper connection, Y/N took him fully into her mouth, the length of him pressing against the soft tissue at the back of her throat. A low moan escaped her as she moved, her tongue tracing the delicate ridge along his tip. His hand tightened in her hair, a guttural sound rumbling in his chest as he pulsed lightly against her eager mouth.

"God, your mouth feels amazing," he growled, as Y/N whimpered when Danneel pulled away. 

"She tastes delicious," Danneel murmured, a grin on her face. Jensen reached over and pulled his wife up, kissing her so he could have a taste before Danneel returned between Y/N’s legs. Looking at the blissed out look on Y/N, Jensen said. "Dee’s going to make you come hard, and then I’m going to fuck you."

Unable to say anything with her mouth so full, Y/N hummed enthusiastically. 

Danneel’s tongue moved faster. Y/N arched her back, her eyes squeezed shut, a shriek of pleasure ripping from her throat. Y/N's body trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Danneel's tongue swirled and flicked, sending her spiraling towards another orgasm. She pulled her mouth away from Jensen before she cried out while her body convulsed, her release a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Jensen's gaze, a raw hunger, locked onto Y/N as he moved closer to her. A trail of fervent kisses descended her torso, his hands mapping the contours of her body with reverent exploration, as if committing every curve and hollow to memory. He paused, his eyes questioning, offering a silent invitation, a shared understanding passing between them. Y/N responded with a confident smile, her fingers intertwining with his, guiding him between her thighs, a gesture that was both invitation and command. 

He positioned himself at her entrance, the heat of his arousal a tangible presence. A sharp inhale escaped Y/N as he breached her, stretching her with his impressive length, filling her with a sense of exquisite fullness. A low moan resonated, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, as he settled within her, a sensation of exquisite fullness, of being completely claimed. Her fingers dug into his hips, urging him onward, desperate for the friction, the delicious friction that only he could provide.

His movements were a potent blend of power and tenderness, each thrust a deliberate act of possession, propelling her closer to the precipice of ecstasy. Y/N’s breath hitched, her body arching to meet his every motion, her muscles clenching around him, desperate to hold him close. Danneel’s gaze, a warm, encouraging presence, intensified the experience, adding a layer of shared intimacy to the already charged atmosphere. Jensen’s lips captured hers, a searing kiss that mirrored the rhythm of his hips, his tongue mimicking the thrusts of his cock, driving her wild with each stroke.

“God, you feel incredible,” he rasped against her lips, his voice thick with lust, his breath hot against her skin. Y/N’s head thrashed against the pillows, her senses ablaze, her body consumed by the fire that raged within her. 

Remembering the redhead next to her, Y/N’s hand sought Danneel who was now stretched out next to her. She parted Danneel’s folds, finding the slick, swollen nub, and began to circle it gently, her thumb pressing lightly, eliciting a soft moan from Danneel’s lips. Danneel’s body trembled as Y/N entered her, her fingers mimicking Jensen’s rhythm, eager to share the pleasure that coursed through her veins. Their moans escalated as Y/N brought her quickly to her high, her hips bucking instinctively against Y/N’s touch while Y/N’s body clenched around Jensen.

Y/N’s climax ripped through her, a guttural cry echoing in the room, a raw, primal release. Danneel's own release followed close behind, a shuddering wave that washed over her. Even as Danneel's tremors subsided, Y/N’s body still pulsed with the aftershocks of Jensen’s deep thrusts, her muscles quivering. The air thrummed with the scent of their shared passion.

“You feel so good wrapped around me,” Jensen growled, his voice thick with lust, still deep within her.

Y/N’s hand, slick with Danneel’s essence, lingered between her legs for a moment, and then she slowly brought her fingers to her lips. She extended her tongue, licking the remnants of Danneel’s arousal from her fingertips, her eyes never leaving Danneel’s. Danneel watched, a flicker of desire dancing in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the intimate act. Y/N, her breath still ragged, turned her head slightly, her gaze locking with Danneel’s. “I want to taste you, Dani.”

"I want to feel you both," Y/N whispered, her voice husky. 

Jensen sensed the shift in their mood and paused, eyes filled with a tender intensity. "Where do you want us?" 

“You behind me, Dani in front.” She answered. “I want to be sandwiched between you.”

With a slow, deliberate withdrawal, Jensen pulled out of Y/N, the slick sound echoing in the quiet room. He shifted, his hands tracing the curve of her waist. "Turn for me, love." 

Y/N, her body still humming with the aftershocks of their shared pleasure, moved from her prone position to kneel before him. His hands slid down her sides, cupped her hips, and guided her into a more comfortable kneeling posture. His thumbs traced the delicate curve of her spine, sending shivers down her back. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. 

"Like this?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble. When she nodded, he positioned himself, the tip of his arousal pressing against her opening. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he slid inside her, filling her with his length. A soft gasp escaped Y/N’s lips, a mixture of pleasure and the delicious stretch of his fullness.

Once she was used to the sensation of Jensen inside her again, Y/N guided Danneel closer, her fingers tugging at her leg, inviting her to join them. She positioned Danneel so that her thighs were on either side of Y/N's shoulders, then leaned down. Her tongue traced the delicate lines of Danneel’s core, savoring the salty-sweet taste of her arousal. Danneel’s breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips as Y/N lavished attention on her most sensitive flesh, her body arching involuntarily.

Y/N’s tongue swirled around Danneel’s clit, teasing the sensitive nub, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. Her fingers explored the slick folds, mimicking the rhythm of Jensen’s thrusts, building the pressure, pushing Danneel closer to the edge. She nipped gently at Danneel’s inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake, her teeth grazing the soft skin. Y/N’s body began to tremble, her muscles clenching around Jensen’s length as the pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo, her climax a wave of pure, unadulterated sensation.

Her climax erupted, a wave of pure pleasure that washed over her, leaving her breathless and trembling. Jensen’s thrusts intensified, his groans mingling with Y/N’s cries, as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. Danneel’s pleasure mounted, her hips bucking instinctively against Y/N’s ministrations, her fingers tangling in Y/N’s hair, her nails digging lightly into her scalp.

With a final, powerful thrust, Jensen cried out, his release filling Y/N, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. Danneel climaxed simultaneously, her juices flowing freely into Y/N’s mouth, a heady mix of salt and sweetness. After working Danneel through her orgasm, Y/N collapsed on top of her. 

Danneel, her breath coming in soft gasps, leaned in, her lips brushing against Y/N’s ear. “Are you alright?” she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

Y/N, still reeling from the intensity of her climax, could only nod, her body still thrumming with pleasure, her lips still wet with Danneel’s essence. She felt a sense of complete and utter satiation, a feeling of peace that settled over her like a warm blanket.

Jensen shifted slightly, moving behind Y/N. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made her heart flutter. Then, with a slow, contented sigh, he withdrew from her body, collapsing beside the women, his own breath still coming in ragged gasps.

“Damn, you were incredible,” he murmured, his voice still a little rough, turning his head to grin at Y/N.

Danneel leaned in, her fingers tracing the curve of Y/N’s cheek. “Seriously, wow,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with warmth. 

Y/N reached out, taking both of their hands in hers, a sense of deep connection flowing between them. “You guys too,” she replied, her voice filled with sincerity, her fingers intertwining with theirs. “That was…way better than I expected. And I had high expectations.”

They lay there for a long moment, the silence comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding. The shared intimacy had forged a bond, a connection that went beyond the physical. It was a moment of pure vulnerability, of shared desire, of complete acceptance.

The gentle rise and fall of their breaths filled the quiet room. Y/N, nestled between Jensen and Danneel, felt a wave of contentment wash over her. The warmth of their bodies, the lingering scent of their shared passion, and the quiet comfort of their presence lulled her into a state of blissful relaxation.

Jensen’s arm tightened around her in a silent embrace, and Danneel’s fingers gently stroked her hair, a soothing caress. The rhythmic sound of their breathing, a soft symphony of contentment, filled the room.

One by one, their eyelids grew heavy, and they drifted off to sleep, their bodies intertwined, their breaths mingling, their hearts at peace. The room was filled with a quiet serenity, a testament to the shared intimacy and the deep connection they had forged. They slept soundly, wrapped in the afterglow of their shared pleasure, their dreams filled with the echoes of their passionate encounter.

I hope you enjoyed this, here is Part 2. Please reblog and/or tag someone you think will enjoy this.

[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.

[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

[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

[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.

[dorimena]

𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞����𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; 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

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; 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)

[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

[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.

[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

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“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.

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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

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