#currently missing my friends if that hasn't been clear

[captain-huggy-bear]

girl omg i am EATING your celly pieces up, you truly never miss. you’re gonna be at 2k SOON i know it

could i request “Bet you they don’t make you sound like that, do they?” with Clayton Keller? since my brain has been locked in on that man since i found your blog smh

This wrecked me in the best sort of way to write. 18+ NSFW Smut: Clay realising that friends with benefits/casual maybe isn't for him anymore, Clay being a little bit of a possessive twat but in a hot way. I hope this is okay and not rubbish! I think it's okay??

1000 Followers Celly Finished Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

He's being stupid and he knows he is. You're not flirting with Jack. He knows you're not deep down, but fuck...it feels like you are. The way you smile at the guy, how you laugh at some stupid fucking joke and touch his bicep for a touch to long (in Clay's opinion anyway), the way you have to tilt your head to look up at him, how Jack seems to brighten at that touch, eyes twinkling...it's fucking stupid. It makes him want to tear you away from Jack, makes he want to tell Jack to fuck off...as if Bainer isn't one of his friends, his team mates, his found family.

You're not flirting with Jack...and even if you are he hasn't got a right to say shit, not when Clay's been refusing to put a label on what the two of you are for months, not when he's been keeping things casual, 'easy' while you beg him for more, for a crumb of exclusivity. While he's been acting like it's all physical...like he doesn't really care that much. You have every right to flirt with who you want, every right to fuck who you want, but the idea of you with anyone else has him feeling sick to the stomach, seeing red as his nostrils flare and his jaw locks.

When you look over at him, mid-laugh at something Jack has said, you freeze. Eyes locking as you notice the way his jaw tenses, how his lips purse, that dimple in his right cheek clear. Clay's fists are clenched at his side for a moment before he crooks a finger at you in a 'come hither' motion. You should ignore him, should keep talking to Jack but he has you wrapped around his finger, always has done...so you excuse yourself politely from Jack who just looks between you and Clay knowingly, before shuffling your way towards Clayton.

You feel unsure, a little nervous, it's obvious Clay's not happy about something and yet you know he'd never be anything but good to you. Clay, for all his protests that things were just casual, that you were just friends who sometimes fucked, had always, always been gentle with you, good to you. He never raised his voice. He never touched you in away that didn't bring pleasure. The only way he'd ever hurt you was his refusal to become something more, his inability to commit. Something you couldn't truly be upset about when you'd agreed to casual in the first place, even knowing you couldn't do casual, even knowing you were going to fall irrevocably in love.

The moment you're within arms reach of him Clay's arm is sliding around your waist, hand resting there as he pulls you to his side and walks. You go along with it, feeling the way his fingers flex, tips digging into the fat on your waist with each movement.

"Clay?"

"Just give me a minute." His voice is short, tense, jaw only moving enough to get the words out and it's obvious he's processing something, trying to keep composure.

You let him lead you out of his living area where the entire team and then some had gathered for the evening, down a corridor until you're gently ushered into his bedroom. The door clicks shut behind you, the lock turns.

"Clay, what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer you, not a word is shared, instead the look that lands on you is heated, so heated your own skin begins to burn as his eyes trail you slowly. He starts at your own, baby blues meeting yours, until they scan you, trailing down your neck, lingering on the way your dress clings to your breasts, to your waist, the curve of your hips and down the expanse of your thighs.

It's the sort of gaze that feels like a touch, that feels like Clay's hands are sliding over your skin as goosebumps rise up and hairs stand on end, breath hitching and catching in your throat.

You watch, feeling rather helpless in the sort of way that only comes from wanting someone so badly who has made it clear he doesn't want you the same, as he loosens his tie, throws it off to the side. Each button on his shirt is loosened in the sort of intense silence as he watches you that has your thighs clenching, hips shifting in place.

It's like he's bewitched you, the way you can barely breathe, chest tight, lip bitten between your teeth, eyes unable to look away as Clay strips himself of his shirt. Broad shoulders, tan skin, that goddamn cross, coming into view. He looks like a daydream, like something unattainable, untouchable and yet he's the one who dragged you into his room. He's the one slowly unbuckling his belt, long fingers threading the leather through the loops of his trousers with a slow deftness that feels like he's stalking towards you.

There's no fighting it really, the way your panties dampen between your thighs, the flush to your skin, the impossible need to have him even if a fuck is all he'll give you...even if you'll never get anything more substantial. Any crumbs are enough for you right now as he strips down to just his boxers, cock pressing against the fabric like he's already thinking of what he's going to do to you. Heavy, thick, all for you.

"You think it's funny? Flirting with Jack like that, sweet girl?" The distance between you takes barely a couple of strides before he's on you, you stumbling a step backwards at how intensely he comes upon you. Your knees hitting the edge of his bed while he crowds you, so close your chests are touching.

"Cla-" You want to explain because you weren't flirting with Jack...because you hadn't even thought of another man like that since this whole thing started with Clay...because it was impossible to think of another man touching you, kissing you, loving you when you were so in love with Clayton.

"No, I get it...he's taller, he probably gives you the attention someone as needy as you needs, right?" He's being a little mean, mean in a way he never usually is, is a huff to his words like he's frustrated with you. Like he has a right to be.

"Clay, it-" The way he grips your cheeks between his fingers isn't painful, but it is firm, squishing until your mouth is a perfect pout, eyes widening, thighs rubbing together as your clit aches at the sudden show of dominance, of possession...because God, all you've ever wanted was for Clay to want you just as much as you want him.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay, i'm going fuck every single thought of Jack out of your head and remind you why I'm the only one you should be flirting with." The smirk he sends your way, teeth peeking out just a touch, brows lowered, it's evil, it's downright sinful and only deepens at the way you shudder against him. You're so utterly weak for him that he could ask anything of you in that moment and you'd do it, you'd say yes 1000 times over.

Clay's mouth captures yours, teeth tugging and nipping at your bottom lip almost meanly as his fingers release your cheeks, hand grazing down your neck until it wraps around your throat gently. There's a tenderness to the way he holds your neck, a gentleness that belies the heat in his kiss, the roughness as he tries to devour you and your taste.

You gasp against his mouth, lips opening up for his tongue when his hands leave you to grip your thighs pulling until you fall backwards against the bed in a mockery of a trust fall. Clay's on you immediately, weight pressed heavy into you, cock grinding against your cunt through his boxers, through your dress, your panties.

Your soaking through them, slick gathering between your thighs as his fingers trail down to hem of your dress, tugging it up past your hips. His kiss doesn't stop, a relentless pressure of his lips against yours, his tongue dancing with your own until you can barely breathe, nostrils flaring and working overtime to get any oxygen.

"You think he could make you feel like this, baby? Huh?"

"No, no, only you, Clay..." You're a babbling mess as his fingers push the gusset of your panties aside, rough tips gathering your wetness, trailing from slit to clit in a lazy sort of rhythm that has your hips stuttering, unsure if you want to move closer or pull away.

"You sure about that, sweet girl? Cause you were awfully fucking close to him out there." It's torturous, the way he just glides his fingers through your slick, not pushing into you, not circling your clit, not doing anything of substance as he leans over you, lips finding the hollow beneath your jaw, sucking harshly, tongue laving the skin until it comes up bruised, purpling. It looks fucking good on you, makes his cock throb in his boxers because shit, he's fucking yours and everyone, Jack included, should know about it. He's been yours from the first time he kissed you like that was just something friends were supposed to do, like he wasn't an idiot trying to resist falling in love, not realising he was already on his knees.

"Meant nothing, 'm sorry, fuck, 'm sorry, Clay..." You're babbling, voice breathy and light like you can barely breathe.

"That's right, baby, it meant nothing, cause you're mine, right?"

"Yours, all yours, Clay, please..." Clay likes to think he has restraint, control, willpower...but there's nothing like restraint, nothing like discipline as he tugs your panties down and out of the way. There's nothing like control as he pulls himself from his boxers, rock hard, throbbing, purple at the tip. There's no willpower, nothing that can stop him as he presses the head against your cunt and pushes in, head dropping to your shoulder at the way your warm walls grip him, at the scrabble of your nails digging into his back as he punctures a gasp from your chest.

"Clay, Clay, Clay..." His name is a mantra, a fucking prayer as he slides each inch in until he bottoms out, hips meeting flush with yours, lip dripping spit onto your skin as he breathes open mouthed and heavy against your skin.

Even like this, even as Clay's hips pull back and slam back against yours, thrusts hard, forceful, even then there's a gentleness to it, a tenderness to the way his hips cradle yours, how his tongue laves over your skin, pressing purple marks across every inch of available flesh. There's a sort of reverence to each touch of his fingers on your thighs that bracket his hips, a worship in the way he mumbles against your skin as sweat drips from his skin to yours, as strands of that brunet hair cling to his skin like he's just gotten off the ice.

He's so beautiful that you can't close your eyes, forcing them to stay open, even if heavy lidded as he thrusts into you over and over again. Each press of his cock into you getting deeper, until the head of his dick presses against the spongy spot inside you. A spot that has the most debauched moan falling from your lips before you can stop it, before you can hide the noise.

“Bet you Jack doesn't make you sound like that, does he?” It's spat out, frustrated and gives it all away, gives the jealousy a voice that's possessive and frustrated.

Your hand coming to your mouth to cover it, to hide each moan, each groan, each whimper as he presses into you at a hard pace that has skin smacking against skin. Your wrist is taken in Clay's hand and pressed into the mattress, tender even as it's firm.

"Wanna hear you, baby, want Jack to hear how good I make you feel, yeah? Show him that you're mine, not his, never fucking his, fuck..." You're clamping down around him, so fucking tight that it has his stomach tightening as you get closer to your end. Clay's fingers trail down your stomach, brushing over your clit in slow, practiced circles. In the way that makes you clench down on him, in the way that has your head dropping back, eyes finally closing, a guttural sort of moan falling from your throat as it stretches taut. The perfect canvas for his lips as he continues to turn you purple and red, until your chest and neck are a Jackson Pollock of hickeys and love bites.

"Fuck, 'm so close, baby, c'mon, sweet girl, cum for me, yeah? Wanna hear you let go, baby..." It's the tenderness in his voice, the devastation like you've utterly ruined him combined with his fingers on your clit that finally does it, that has you clenching around him as you cum.

He's not long after, whine falling from his throat, neck arching back, chain swinging as he spills inside you, hips continuing to rock on instinct through it until he's spent, sweat gliding down his neck and splattering on your collarbone like tear drops.

There's an extra level of gentleness when Clay pulls out of you, shushing you gently, soothingly when you wince before he walks off for a wash cloth.

It's cool and soft against your skin as Clay trails it over your face, wiping away the sweat there before trailing down your neck, over the constellation of his marks.

He's gentle as he does it, tender, eyes locking with yours as his voice comes out soft, almost shy, "I love you... you know that? I...I know I've been putting it off, labelling us..." The cloth stops at the junction of your thighs, a slower, softer touch as Clay becomes hyper aware of how sensitive you are, every twitch as he tries to clean you up.

"You told me you didn't want anything serious..." Your voice is just as small, scared that one wrong word, one loud exclamation might change his mind, might change what you think he's about to say.

Clay sighs out heavy, throwing the cloth towards the laundry basket as he leans over you, fingers reaching out for your hips but hesitating to touch, like he's not sure you'll let him.

"I know...but seeing you laughing with Bainer...I felt fucking sick...the idea of you with someone else...of not loving you openly...it makes me wanna die, so...maybe I'm an idiot but...but I want to be your idiot?" His smile is bashful, honest, sincere and God, it's all you've been waiting for for months. How many times had Clay said it was just casual? That he wasn't prepared for commitment? How many times had you let him into your bed anyway? How many times had you kissed him hoping that would be the moment he came to his senses? The moment he stopped running? God, you'd been so patient, but that smile? That look directed at you? It was worth it. Worth the tears. The nights wondering if he'd ever change his mind. Worth the patience. Worth every single moment.

"Is there a question in that?" You laugh at him giddy and joyous, a sort of lightness taking over you at the realisation that Clay's finally stopped running, finally stopped hiding from you.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" Not be my girlfriend, not be mine...but can he be yours?

Your silence feels like an eternity to him, unnecessarily cruel as your eyes glimmer, as your fingers grasp at his chain and tug him closer until your noses are brushing and his eyelashes are fluttering. There's a desperate urge to kiss you again even without your answer.

And then it comes, so soft, so quiet, a hairsbreadth away from his lips, so close it's like he can feel every single syllable, "I'd like that..."

"Thank fuck." Clay groans out in relief, forehead pressing against yours, grin so wide it's blinding. You're both laughing, giddy, overjoyed even as your dress, still half rolled up your body, clings to your skin. Even as sweat dries sticky on his own.

"You two done fucking like rabbits or should we go and leave you to it?" Jack's voice laughs from the other side of the door, booming, too loud, embarrassingly so. Your cheeks heating, warmth filling your face, roiling under your skin

"Fuck you, Bainer!"

"Think someone already did that, Kells!"

But, nothing...absolutely nothing can wipe that smile from Clay's face because you're his and he's yours and God, why the fuck did he wait this long to make that a reality?

[minimallycreative]

ive been saying "i dont want to be alive anymore" a lot lately, and that's untrue. I know it's untrue. i want to live a different life than the one im currently living. so here is a list of things that i think would signify living a life that i would enjoy living.

my own apartment. a place where all my favorite things are and are in the place where i want them. somewhere i can decorate and organize the way i think it should be. lots of colors and funny little furniture. i like the idea of thrifting as much of my furniture as i can because it's already has love in it. if the couch my sister bought and now my other sister has is still functional, i really like that couch, it's great for naps.

seeing my therapist once a week. not in the morning or the evening because ive tried to do morning therapy and i find it too hectic, and therapy after the sun goes down is a loosing battle; thats when im the most emotionally stunted.

seeing my friends regularly, in person if possible. i want my friends to live their best lives, i am hoping that i end up near enough that i can see them regularly in person. I like to be able to hold the people i love. i think my love language is physical affection.

seeing a massage therapist every so often. ive got chronic pain, and could probably benefit from someone helping me work out the knots. also, i am a crafter and often find myself hunched over in strange positions and then go to bed in also strange positions.

exercising in a way that feels good. I have chronic pain and disabilities, it would be a good thing all around to find a way to keep myself healthy that doesn't feel like a mistake later. im going to try swimming when i get back to campus, and im hoping the water helps with joint pain.

my cat. logically i know onyx can't live forever, but i dont like thinking about it, so im going to tell myself that he is going to keep living, and ill get to come home everyday to his chirps and complaints, and get to snuggle him when i go to bed. i live an hour away at school and i hate it. i want to live with my cat again.

having fun doing whatever i do for work. i hope i can find some level of enjoyment in whatever i do.

eating the food i like and not feeling guilty for eating food.

reminder that i dont actually want to kill myself, i just don't like the life i live right now.

[distantdarlings]

RETURN THE FAVOR // e. berkshire

RATING: R / 3.2K WORDS

Enzo Berkshire x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* When an altercation between Enzo and you gets you both thrown in detention, Enzo decides to take a bit of anger out on you.

+ WARNINGS - (Y'all, this is filthy) SMUT! PIV (no protection), mean dom!Enzo, Top!Enzo, Bottom!Reader, very brief Sub!Enzo, fingering (f!receiving), spanking, bondage, use of tie as gag, mentions of a slap in the face (x2), Reader is struggling (but still consensual), kinda bratty!Reader, public sex, generally rough sex, desk sex, degradation, name-calling, female reader, fem anatomy, language (lmk if I missed anything)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Slow Down - Chase Atlantic

- - -

The events of the morning had flown by so quickly, you’d barely even grasped what had happened. You knew there had been some kind of fight that you had been involved in where you were yelling at Theodore Nott for picking on a Hufflepuff. You knew that his little friend group had tried to shout back at you and that your current lover, Enzo Berkshire, had also pushed back against you.

That had pushed you over the edge, and you’d laid a slap across his cheek, lighting it up with red blush. By the time the professors had flown through the door, handing out detention slips, you’d hardly processed a thing that had happened.

There was a fight. You’d slapped Enzo Berkshire across the face. You were currently in detention for the rest of the day. Enzo Berkshire was sitting directly across from you. Those facts were clear.

The desks in the extra classroom you sat in were arranged in a debate circle, where the two of you were angled in front of each other. A pink handprint glowed brightly on his cheek, accentuating his chiseled cheekbone even more than before. His eyes were cut so angrily he might’ve evaporated you on the spot.

“If you have something to say, Enzo…,” you started, crossing your arms and staring right back at him. “Then you’d better spit it out now because I’m getting really tired of you staring at me like that. Hasn't anyone ever taught you that that was rude?”

He scoffed, an evil smirk cracking across his lips. “You’d better watch it. There’s no professor here.”

“Oh, no!” you exclaimed sarcastically. “Whatever will I do? Seriously, Enzo, what the hell do you think you’re going to do to me? I could best you in a duel any day.”

“McGonagall took our wands. What do you think you’re going to do?” he challenged, leaning forward onto the wooden desk.

“Maybe if you’d pay better attention in class, you’d be a bit better at wandless magic by now.” You cocked your head and shot him a teasing smile. 

He could talk a big game, but you’d shut him up perfectly well when you’d slapped him earlier. If he wanted to continue to insult you, you had no qualms with hitting him again. Just as he said, there was no professor in the room with you. You could easily get away with a second assault. 

Suddenly, he stood and crossed to the front of his desk. He leaned his body against it, crossing one ankle in front of the other, and setting back comfortably. His eyes watched your every move. A single strand of hair slipped loose from his expertly styled hair, tracing the line of his perfectly crooked nose. 

“What’s with the attitude today, huh? Have I not fucked you enough this week?” he asked, faking a pout with his reddened lips. He tilted his head to the side mockingly. You scoffed.

“Enzo, don’t be stupid. This has nothing to do with that. I told you in the middle of the argument that I was going to slap you if you didn’t get out of my face. And what did you do?”

“I didn’t back down from you, little girl.”

“And you got hit for it, dumbass.” You crossed your arms and leaned against the desk. While Enzo was the best body you’d had in a long, long while, you weren’t going to let his immaculate dick get in the way of your self-esteem. The Slytherin boys had a bit of a reputation for using girls, getting tired of them, then ditching them and leaving them with half of the confidence they had to begin with.

Enzo had an incredibly sculpted body, almost specifically designed for the rough sport of Quidditch he seemed to excel at. From the first time you saw him zipping through the sky—taut body stretching to catch the Quaffle and send it flying into the goalpost with the force of someone twice his size—you knew you had to have him. And that night, after the Slytherins had won and the after party had concluded, you had laid him down and rode him so ferociously, you’d locked him in from that moment on. As much as he loved to deny it, he needed you badly. 

You smirked.

He slowly waltzed across the classroom. His shoes clicked against the polished floors, echoing slightly off of the empty stone walls. Your eyes trained slowly upwards as he drew closer and closer before he stopped just before your desk. His intention was to hover over you and to make you feel small, but the seething stare you kept imprinted on his bright eyes ensured that you were in charge, not him. 

“Maybe it’s about time you had a bit of punishment,” he suggested. He placed the tips of his fingers on the edge of the desk, gently gliding them along the dented wood. A single fingernail absentmindedly traced some name carved messily into the desk. 

“Punishment?” you laughed. “If anything, it’s you who needs it. Maybe one hit wasn’t enough for you. I seem to recall the first night we fucked, you seemed to like it quite a bit when I’d hit you across the face, just like this morning. Tell me, baby, did you get hard when I did it earlier in front of all of your friends?” 

His fist came down hard on the table. You stood abruptly, backing away from his heaving body. The smirk refused to leave your lips. You pulled away slightly, leaning against one of the desks farther behind the one you previously occupied. You’d never seen him this mad before.

“Oh,” you pouted. “Did I hit a soft spot? God, imagine what your friends think. They know I’ve been fucking with you for the last few months, so what do they think, knowing I have complete control of you?”

“Yeah, right,” he snorted, inching closer to you, weaving in and out of desks and chairs.

“Enzo, baby, let’s be honest,” you smiled. “You’re like a dog on a leash. When I whistle, you come. In both the physical and transporting sense.” You continued to walk backwards, fingers caressing along desks as you passed by them. 

“Oh, you think this is a game? You think you’re in control?” he asked. You nodded sweetly. Anyone could see that you were, even those on the outside looking in.

“Aren’t I?” you asked. “You’re the one chasing after me here.” At your words, he stopped in his tracks and laughed meanly. He watched you closely as he slowly sat himself down in a wooden chair. The light creaking beneath his weight interrupted the echoing of his breathing. 

“Come here, baby,” he said gently, patting his lap with one heavy hand.

“Hmm, no. Try again.” You crossed your arms obstinately. He glanced around absentmindedly for a few moments as if thinking about something before he seemed to land on his solution. A small smile briefly flashed across his lips before disappearing again. Then, his eyebrows knitted together pitifully, as if he was on the verge of crying.

He slid down out of the chair, letting his knees hit the raw ground with a soft thud. His hands came forward, finding their position on the dusty floorboards, fingers streaking in the dirt. On all fours, he slowly began to crawl towards you. A few inches every second, a few breaths between his swollen lips, a few wobbles of his jaw, then he was paused before you with his lips hovering against your bare legs. 

You watched closely as he dragged his bottom lip from your knee up to the hem of your skirt before pulling away. A smile found its way on to your face at his behavior. At this point, all he needed to do was beg for forgiveness and offer his body up for the single use of your personal pleasure. Merlin, that would be the fucking day. 

“What do you say, baby?” you whispered, hand coming down to grab a hold of his jaw. You tilted his face up higher to look at you more directly. 

“I’m sorry…”

“Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for shouting at you earlier,” he whispered. Your thumb scraped across his mouth. At the sensation, a pink tongue darted between them and caressed gently over your skin. You smiled once more. You could get very used to seeing him on his knees like this. 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t think I can fully forgive you until you seek a bit more penance. In a physical form.” 

At that, you pushed yourself fully onto the desk behind you, legs falling slowly open. You revealed yourself to him. Between your decision to not wear tights today and the fact that your panties were hardly solid fabric as is, you figured it wouldn’t be much of a struggle to get him against you. His eyes glanced down beneath your skirt before flicking back up to you. He swallowed thickly, his throat tracking the shaky movement the whole way down. 

“What can I do for you?” he whispered. 

“Anything you want—just pleasure me and make me believe that you’re sorry.” 

Not a moment passed before he was jumping up from his position on the floor and crossing the remaining space between you two. You yelped as his hands trapped themselves behind your knees and tugged you toward the edge of the desk you sat atop. Before you had a chance to react to his annoying insubordination, he flipped your hips and pressed your chest roughly into the old wood. You shrieked at the assault, feeling a breeze inching its way up your back. His hands had yours tightly trapped behind your back. 

“Enzo! Let me go right fucking now!” you screamed. 

“Nuh uh, shush now,” he tutted. “You told me to pleasure you in any way that I wanted. I’ve decided what I want.” His words were menacing. A chill spread down your spine. 

With both of your wrists collected in his left hand, he freed his right to slip a finger behind his tie and loosen it. He pulled it from around his neck and rapidly fastened it around your wrists, binding them tightly against your back. You yelped at the tension burning against your shoulders.

“Fuck, Enzo! That’s too tight. Loosen it now or I swear—!” you started. His hands were then around your neck, interrupting your empty threats and loosening your tie, as well. You thrashed against his body but his hips pressed against your ass kept you locked against the desk.

“I swear to Merlin, you'd better let me up or I’ll scream.”

“Well, we can’t have any of that.” Suddenly, your tie appeared in front of your eyes in a flash. It slipped between your teeth and pulled tight against the edges of your mouth. He fastened the uniform fabric around the back of your head, careful to avoid tying your hair into it. You grunted rebelliously against the gag, trying to kick at him with your legs. 

“Besides, if I’m going to make you feel as good as I plan to, this’ll come in handy for how loud you’re about to scream.” His voice was a gravelly whisper against your ear, lips brushing against the shell. 

Eventually, you stopped struggling, and, at that point, he chuckled in your ear and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

He leaned up from where he’d been sprawled against your back and slowly pushed your skirt over your hips, revealing your ass to the cold air. You moaned against the gag as his thumb slid slowly through your slit, tracing the wetness that had already started to pool from the edge of your core to your entrance. He hissed at the warmth you gave off.

“I don’t know why you fight me so much—if you’d just lie still and let me fuck you, I think you’d be in a much better mood.” 

Then he was pulling your lace panties to the side and sliding a hot finger into you. You gasped, body tensing against the desk, as he spread you apart. It never mattered how many times he did this—you never got used to the stretch every part of his body provided to you. Before you’d even adjusted to the first one, he pushed a second finger in, and then a third. 

By the time he pulled his fingers from you, you were already dripping down the length of your thighs and the sides of his wrist. Behind you, you heard him place his fingers across his tongue and suck your essence from his skin. 

You rolled your jaw against the desk, propping your chin up to catch a glimpse of the door. The thought of a student or—worse—a professor walking in and catching the two of you made your stomach grumble with nausea. But, on the flip side, it also seemed to ramp up the heat in your abdomen. For some reason, the thought made you all the more ready for him to push himself into you.

Which, luckily, you didn’t have to wait long for. Without another breath, he worked his pants down his waist and legs and placed both hands on your ass. His fingers dug into your skin, massaging the muscle soothingly before laying a heavy slap to your right side. You stifled a scream against the desk. Your skin stung as if it’d been placed against fire. His fingers returned to the skin to move the heat around. 

Once he felt as though the pain had been appeased enough, he laid an even harder slap to your left side. This time, a bit of a shriek did break through the silence. You groaned at the pain, kicking your leg up and making sharp contact with his shin.

“Ah! You little shit.” He slammed his hand down on your ass again. Tears pricked at your eyes at the feeling. You couldn’t deny it—the thought only accelerated the wetness between your legs more. Fuck, you hated what he did to you. 

He reached around and pulled your gag from between your lips suddenly. The saliva-soaked fabric hung limply around your neck. “Now,” he growled in your ear. “Say you’re sorry for slapping me.”

“But you—” He shut you up by slamming himself into you down to the hilt. He slapped a hand around your mouth as you screamed out. 

“Say you’re sorry.” He began to pump rapidly into you. Every single thrust hammered into every spot you needed him to. He was relentless with his pace.

“I’m sorry,” you cried out against his hand. Your hands clenched tightly where they were wound against your back, fingernails biting into your palms. 

Finally, he pulled himself off of you and gathered your hips into his hands once more. He fucked you hard and rough, demanding that you feel every inch of him. His hip bones slammed against your ass with cracks that echoed like magic. Your eyes rolled upwards at the pleasure he forced into your body. 

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Hitting me then pretending like you run this show. I fuck you, not the other way around. At the end of the night, you’re the one screaming into my shoulder; you’re the one pulling me closer with your legs; you’re the one clenching me with this dripping cunt. And who gets you like this every time—fucking soaked and begging for more? Fucking me, you stupid slut. You think you can treat me like that, huh?” He punctuated his question with an especially hard thrust. You whimpered, teeth clenching briefly around the edge of the desk. “You ever act like that in front of my friends again and I’ll fuck this tight cunt right in front of them and the entire fucking school. I’ll tie you up like I have you right now and let every single student and professor watch as I end you.”

You whined aloud at his words. The images he painted in your mind ramped the sensations he was giving you to a million. Every movement he pushed into you urged you closer and closer to that sweet release you were desperate before. 

As you started to tighten around him, he chuckled meanly. His fingers dug into your hips. “Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Just like you do every time?”

You said nothing. He grabbed your tied hands and pulled you upwards, forcing your back into his chest. The new angle hit an especially deep spot inside of you. You gasped at the feeling. You were right on the edge of your release.

“Answer me!” he growled.

“Yes! Enzo, please, baby. I’m so fucking close,” you whined aloud. 

“That’s what I fucking thought.” He pushed you back onto the desk and forced himself against you faster and faster until the bubble in your stomach was bursting and raining down across his and your thighs. He groaned as the wet slick painted his skin. 

Once your high began to diminish, he pumped himself into you relentlessly until he was coming hard. He forced every ounce of his spend deep into you until he was finished and caught his breath. Once he was done, he pulled himself out of you.

“I think that ought to teach you, baby.” He pulled his pants back onto his hips and fastened his belt. You could feel his release pulsing out of your core and seeping down your legs. Sweat dripped down your forehead. Your ass was still exposed. 

“Whatever, Enzo. Just untie me,” you said. He paused and walked around to the front of the desk you laid across. You watched his body make every step until he stopped before you. A single hand came down to tilt your chin up towards him, just as you had done to him earlier.

“What was that?” he whispered. His voice was like steel.

“I asked you to untie me.”

“I don’t recall you asking anything. You demanded. Haven’t you learned anything?” he asked, clicking his tongue disappointingly. You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious.

“Okay, I get the point, En. Now, untie me. A professor or student could walk in at any time.”

“What’s the magic word, sweetheart?” he smirked down at you. You rolled your eyes.

“Merlin. Please!” you sighed. 

“Mm, I think it’s too late for that. Your attitude fucking sucks. I shouldn’t have to ask you to say please. It seems this little session didn’t teach you much of a lesson.” 

He paused for a moment, then smiled decidedly. “Maybe this will, sweetheart.”

“Enzo, what—?” He interrupted you by pulling the gag back over your mouth, retightening it against your mouth and walking back behind you. He smoothed your skirt over the length of your back, ensuring that your ass was exposed, pumped full of his cum. He double-checked that your arms were fastened tightly against your back. You struggled against the desk, cussing his every fucking movement as best you could through the gag. 

He leaned down beside your ear and placed a small kiss to the shell of it. “Let’s learn from our mistakes, baby.”  

Then, with a whoosh, he Disapparated and rendered the room into complete silence. You scoffed in surprise, eyes widening and breath heaving in and out. There was no fucking way he just left you like this. 

The next time you saw Enzo Berkshire, you were going to make sure you returned the fucking favor. Exactly how he had. 

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil , @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn , @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch , @ilovehotmenandwoman , @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74

[lila-lou]

✨Beyond his true fate - Part 1/14✨

Summary: Sequel to "His true fate".

(Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, tough topics

Word Count: 5779

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

Day 1 Jensen stared at his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his call log. Five missed calls. Five times he let it ring until it went to voicemail. Five times he hoped, prayed, begged that you would answer.

You didn’t. Your last message had been clear: “Jensen, please. I need space”.

He hadn’t replied. What could he say? That he didn’t want to give you space? That he wanted to get in his car and drive straight to wherever you were, pull you into his arms, bury his face in your neck and apologize until his voice gave out?

Instead, he shoved his phone into his pocket and turned toward the living room, where Zeppelin was currently attempting to stack pillows taller than himself. Arrow was chasing JJ around the couch with a stuffed animal.

Jensen forced himself to smile. Forced himself to laugh when Zeppelin collapsed into the pillows. Forced himself to focus on them and not the aching hole in his chest where you used to be.

But that night, after he tucked them in and the house was quiet, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the spot where you should be. Where you belonged. And for the first time in a long time, he felt truly, completely alone.

Day 3 He found one of your sweaters in the laundry. He hadn’t noticed it before, tangled up in the mix of clothes from before you left. It still smelled like you.

He sat on the couch with it in his lap for hours, rubbing the soft fabric between his fingers, his chest aching so damn bad he could hardly breathe.

Jensen had never been the kind of man to hold onto things like that. He wasn’t sentimental about clothes or perfume or little trinkets. But right now? Right now, he would have given anything to hear your voice. To hear you hum under your breath while cooking, to feel your fingers thread through his hair when he sat on the couch beside you, to have your body pressed against his at night—warm, soft, real.

But all he had was this damn sweater. And a silence that was suffocating.

Day 5 Jensen took the kids out for ice cream, trying to distract himself with their laughter. It worked for a little while. Zeppelin got chocolate all over his shirt, Arrow declared she was officially “too old for baby flavors” and got something she hated, and JJ? She barely said anything.

She was watching him.

And later, when the other two had gone to bed, she sat beside him on the couch, arms crossed, her sharp eyes way too knowing. “You look like shit, Dad”, she finally said, her tone blunt.

Jensen scoffed, running a hand over his face. “Thanks, kid”.

“Are you gonna fix it?”.

Jensen looked at her then, feeling the weight of everything press down on his chest. “I don’t know”, he admitted.

Day 7 The kids went back to Danneel’s today. The house was too quiet after they left.

Jensen paced the kitchen, his phone in his hand, your number pulled up for what felt like the hundredth time.

Just one message. Just one call.

But every time, he stopped himself. Because if you wanted to hear from him, you would have called by now.

Instead, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a drink.

Then another. Then another.

By the time he stopped, his head was heavy, his limbs sluggish, and the only thing he could think about was the way your lips felt against his. The way your voice sounded when you whispered his name in the dark. The way you had looked at him the last time you spoke—broken, distant, done.

He didn’t deserve to call you. Didn’t deserve to beg.

Day 9 The whiskey burned going down, but he barely felt it anymore.

Jensen sat on the couch, staring at the dark TV screen, the bottle sitting half-empty on the table beside him.

He had ignored his emails. Ignored his agent’s calls. Ignored everyone except the bartender from the local place he had gone to earlier that night just to get out of the house.

But none of it mattered. Because no matter how much he tried to distract himself, the only thing he could think about was you. And the fact that he had no idea if you were coming back.

Day 12 Jensen hadn’t shaved. Had barely slept. He was a mess, and he knew it.

The couch had become his bed, the bottle of whiskey his closest companion. Every time his phone buzzed, he snapped his head toward it, hoping—praying—it was you.

But it never was.

Day 14 Jensen barely registered the sound of knocking at first. His head was pounding, a dull ache from too many sleepless nights and too much whiskey. He had half a mind to ignore it—until the knocking turned into full-blown pounding.

Groaning, he rubbed his hands over his face and pushed himself off the couch, stumbling slightly as he made his way toward the door. He swung it open without checking, expecting maybe the mailman, maybe a delivery—hell, maybe even you.

Instead, it was Jared.

Jensen blinked, his vision hazy. “What the hell are you doing here?”.

Jared gave him a once-over, his expression unimpressed. “Checking to see if you’re dead”.

Jensen scoffed, stepping back so Jared could walk in. “I’m fine”.

Jared shut the door behind him and immediately let out a low whistle, taking in the disaster that was Jensen’s living room. The coffee table was cluttered with empty glasses, the bottle of whiskey still sitting there, and a blanket was thrown haphazardly over the couch—the only place Jensen had been sleeping.

“Yeah”, Jared muttered. “You look great”.

Jensen rolled his eyes and dropped back onto the couch. “Why are you really here?”.

Jared exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “Because you’re a miserable fuck when you’re heartbroken, and I figured you’d be too stubborn to reach out for help”.

Jensen scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m not heartbroken”.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Really? So, this”,—he gestured around the room—"this is just your new aesthetic?”.

Jensen shot him a glare, but Jared wasn’t fazed. Instead, he dropped onto the armchair across from him, leaning forward slightly. “Look, man”, Jared said, his voice softer now, more serious. “I know you. And I know you’re hurting. But you can’t just sit here drowning yourself in whiskey and self-pity, waiting for her to come back”.

Jensen’s jaw clenched. “She won’t even talk to me”.

“Yeah, because she’s hurting too”, Jared shot back. “And from what I can tell, she’s not the one who fucked this up”.

Jensen exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. He knew Jared was right. He didn’t need to hear it.

Jared leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Jensen, do you even want this kid?”.

Jensen’s stomach twisted, and for a moment, he couldn’t even answer.

Jared shook his head. “That’s the problem, man. You’re waiting for some grand epiphany, but that’s not how it works. You either step the fuck up, or you lose her. It’s that simple”.

Jensen let his head drop back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. His chest felt tight, his mind racing, his heart a mess. “I don’t know how”, he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jared exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Then figure it out. Before it’s too late”.

Jensen closed his eyes, his fingers gripping the blanket on the couch. Because deep down, he knew—he was already running out of time.

Jared leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “Alright, enough”.

Jensen barely cracked an eye open. “Enough of what?”.

“This”, Jared gestured around the disaster of a living room. “This whole pathetic, self-loathing, whiskey-drenched thing you’ve got going on. It’s over”.

Jensen scoffed, running a hand through his messy hair. “What, you gonna fix my life, Jare?”.

Jared didn’t flinch. “No, you are. Because I’m not letting you sit here wallowing while (Y/N) is out there figuring out if she can live without you”.

Jensen’s stomach twisted. He already knew the answer to that. You could.

Jared stood up, towering over him with that stubborn-as-hell look Jensen had seen too many times. “Get up”.

Jensen groaned. “Dude—”.

“No. Get the fuck up”.

Jensen blinked up at him, momentarily caught off guard by the edge in Jared’s tone.

Jared gestured at him. “You look like hell, man. When’s the last time you shaved?”.

Jensen rubbed a hand over his scruff, glaring. “I don’t know. Who gives a shit?”.

Jared let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, see, that’s the problem. You don’t give a shit. And that’s why you’re losing her”.

That one landed deep.

Jared didn’t let up. “You say you don’t know how to do this? Fine. But sitting here doing nothing sure as hell isn’t helping”. He pointed toward the stairs. “So go shower. Shave. Clean this place up. And when you’re done, we’re gonna figure out how to make this right”.

Jensen exhaled heavily, rubbing his hands over his face.

Jared stepped closer. “You don’t get to be the victim here, Jensen. You did this. But you can still fix it”.

Jensen looked up at him, his jaw clenching. He wanted to snap back, to tell Jared to fuck off, to say he was too exhausted, too broken. But deep down, he knew his friend was right. So, without another word, he pushed himself off the couch and trudged toward the stairs.

“Atta boy”, Jared muttered, shaking his head as Jensen disappeared toward the bathroom.

As the water hit his face, Jensen let out a slow breath. He had to fix this. Before it really was too late.

Jensen ran a towel over his face, exhaling as he walked back into the living room. He felt a little more human—showered, shaved, wearing clean clothes—but inside, he was still wrecked.

Jared was sitting at the kitchen table now, arms crossed, watching him expectantly. He had cracked open a beer but hadn’t touched it yet.

Jensen sighed, dragging out a chair before dropping into it. “Alright”, he muttered. “Let’s hear it”.

Jared lifted a brow. “Hear what?”.

Jensen gestured vaguely. “Whatever lecture you’ve been dying to give me”.

Jared shook his head. “Nah, man. I’m past the lecture phase. Now, I just want the truth”.

Jensen looked down at his hands, jaw clenched. He wasn’t ready for this. But at the same time? He was fucking exhausted from running from it.

Jared leaned forward. “What are you so scared of?”.

Jensen swallowed hard, his throat tight. He ran a hand over his face before finally forcing the words out. “I swore I’d never do this again”.

Jared didn’t say anything, just let him talk.

“After the twins, after everything with Danneel…”, Jensen exhaled heavily, gripping the edge of the table. “I told myself I was done. No more kids. No more sleepless nights, no more stress, no more feeling like I’m failing at being a dad when my career is pulling me in a hundred different directions”.

Jared nodded slowly. “So when (Y/N) told you she was pregnant—”.

Jensen let out a humorless laugh. “I panicked. I shut down. Because I knew what was coming”. He shook his head, staring at the wood grain of the table. “The late nights. The exhaustion. The pressure to be everything all at once”.

Jared’s voice was quiet but firm. “And the difference this time?”.

Jensen hesitated, his chest tightening. “This time… I can’t fuck it up”.

Jared frowned. “What do you mean?”.

Jensen looked up at him, his green eyes stormy with emotions he hadn’t let himself feel until now. “I already screwed up one marriage, Jared. My kids already have to split their time between two homes. And now I’ve got this—this perfect, amazing woman who actually loves me for who I am, and I’m fucking ruining it”.

Jared exhaled. “Jensen—”.

Jensen shook his head. “I don’t get a redo if I mess this up. (Y/N) deserves more than that. This baby deserves more than that”. His voice cracked slightly. “And I’m so goddamn scared that I don’t know how to be enough for them”.

Silence settled between them.

Then, Jared leaned back, crossing his arms. “Okay”, he said simply.

Jensen blinked. “Okay?”.

Jared nodded. “Yeah. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, it’s time to do something about it”.

Jensen let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “You make it sound so fucking easy”.

Jared smirked. “It’s not. But neither is sitting here feeling sorry for yourself”. He tilted his head. “You love her?”.

Jensen’s chest ached. “More than anything”.

Jared nodded. “Then prove it”.

Jensen exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He knew Jared was right—he had to do something. He had to prove to you that he wasn’t just going to keep running, keep shutting down when things got hard.

But how the hell was he supposed to fix something that felt this broken?

Jared studied him carefully, taking a slow sip of his beer before setting it down. His tone was different this time—slower, more deliberate. “Have you ever thought about proposing?”.

Jensen’s entire body tensed. His green eyes snapped to Jared’s, his breath hitching for just a second before he forced himself to scoff. “Jesus, Jared”, he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m trying to fix things, not push her away even more”.

Jared didn’t flinch. “I’m not saying you gotta do it tomorrow. I’m just asking… have you thought about it?”.

Jensen looked away, jaw tight. His hands clenched into fists on the table. “No”, he said automatically. Then, softer, almost to himself, “Not really”.

Jared hummed like he didn’t quite believe him. “Okay. And why not?”.

Jensen let out a humorless laugh. “Because marriage is right next to ‘another baby’ on my list of things I swore I’d never do again”. His voice was rough, bitter. “I barely survived it the first time. You really think I’d be dumb enough to sign up for that shit again?”.

Jared’s expression didn’t change. He just nodded like he had expected that answer. “And yet”, he said slowly, tilting his head, “you´re kinda willing to do the whole baby thing again for (Y/N)”.

Jensen opened his mouth, then shut it.

Jared leaned forward, his voice even. “So maybe this isn’t about marriage itself. Maybe this is about the fact that Danneel took that idea, chewed it up, and spit it out until all you see when you hear ‘marriage’ is something ugly”.

Jensen clenched his jaw, his chest tightening. Jared wasn’t wrong.

When he thought about marriage, he thought about fights behind closed doors. About feeling like a failure no matter what he did. About a relationship that had turned into nothing but resentment and obligations.

But when he thought about you?

He thought about quiet mornings with your legs tangled in his under the covers. The way you absentmindedly played with his fingers while you watched TV. The way you whispered his name in the dark, soft and certain, like you never doubted he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Jensen swallowed hard, rubbing his hand over his face.

Jared was watching him carefully. “I’m not saying you gotta run out and buy a ring right now”, he said. “But if you want to show her that you’re all in? It’s gotta be something big, man. Because right now, she thinks you don’t want this—don’t want her. And if you don’t do something to prove otherwise, she’s gonna walk”.

Jensen’s chest ached. Because that was his biggest fear. Losing you. Losing everything.

He exhaled slowly, his hands still gripping the edge of the table. “I don’t know if I can do marriage again”, he admitted, his voice raw. “But I know I can’t lose her”.

Jared nodded, like that was enough for now. “Then figure out what the hell you’re gonna do about it”.

Another week had passed. Another week full of Jared pushing, prodding, and dragging Jensen through what he sarcastically called “therapy sessions”. Another week without a single word from you.

It was fucking killing him. But at least now, he was trying.

Two days ago, in the middle of another long conversation about what the hell are you doing, man? Jensen had suggested painting the nursery.

It had come out of nowhere. One second, Jared was rattling on about emotional vulnerability or some shit, and the next, Jensen had blurted it out. “I should probably paint the nursery, huh?”.

Jared had frozen mid-sip of his beer, staring at him like he’d just spoken a foreign language. “You what?”.

Jensen had shrugged, playing it off. “She’s not gonna get rid of the baby”. Saying it out loud made something heavy settle in his chest. He cleared his throat. “And even if I still don’t—I mean, I don’t—”. He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck, I don’t want this, man, but I know I have to get there somehow. And I sure as hell won’t let her leave me over it”.

Jared had watched him carefully for a long moment, then simply nodded. “Then we better get some paint”.

Which led them here. To a damn hardware store.

Jensen walked down the aisles with his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning rows of paint samples while Jared followed behind, arms crossed like some judgmental therapist. “So… you’re painting the nursery”, Jared mused, eyeing Jensen with an annoyingly smug look. “Big step”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, grabbing a handful of swatches. “It’s just paint”.

Jared scoffed. “Right. And I suppose you just accidentally wandered into the baby furniture section earlier, too?”.

Jensen shot him a glare.

Jared grinned. “That’s what I thought”.

Jensen sighed, glancing at the blues, greens, and neutral tones in his hand. “I have no fucking clue what I’m doing”.

Jared clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You got this".

Jensen huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah”. His eyes flickered over the soft pastel colors, and before he could second-guess himself, he grabbed a few cans of paint. “Let’s get this over with”.

Jared didn’t say anything, just smirked knowingly as he followed Jensen to the checkout.

Jensen dipped the roller into the tray, watching the soft, muted green coat the surface before pressing it against the nursery wall. The rhythmic motion—up, down, up, down—was the only thing grounding him, keeping him from spiraling into the thoughts he had been trying to avoid all day.

But the silence made it impossible to outrun them.

It was just him, the paint, and his own fucked-up mind.

He hadn’t told anyone, not even Jared, why he chose green. But he knew. Deep down, he knew.

It was the color of your sweater—the one you always wore around the house, the one he found in the laundry after you left, the one that still smelled like you.

And maybe, on some subconscious level, he thought if he filled this room with something that reminded him of you, maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t feel so terrifying.

Jensen sighed, pressing the roller harder against the wall. The sound of it gliding over the drywall filled the empty house, the scent of fresh paint mixing with the whiskey lingering on his breath.

He still didn’t know how to want this. That was the worst part.

He had spent years swearing he’d never do this again. The sleepless nights, the crying, the constant feeling of never doing enough. He had already lived through it, and he had barely survived it then.

And now? Now, he was older. His patience was thinner. His life was different.

So why the hell was he here, rolling paint onto these damn walls like a man preparing for a future he still didn’t know if he wanted?

Because she’s leaving you. The thought came so fast it knocked the wind out of him.

Jensen froze mid-roll, his grip tightening around the handle. That’s what this was, wasn’t it?

That’s why he had spent the past two weeks drowning himself in whiskey and self-pity. Why Jared had to drag his ass off the couch just to function like a normal human being. Why he was standing in a half-empty nursery at one in the morning, painting walls for a baby he had spent months trying not to think about.

Because for the first time, he felt it.

The empty space beside him. The missing presence of the woman he loved. The gaping hole you had left behind when you walked out of that house.

And if he didn’t fix this—really fix this—he was going to lose you.

Jensen swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he stared at the half-painted wall. He needed to stop being a coward.

The next morning, Jensen woke up stiff as hell, his back aching from falling asleep on the floor of the half-painted nursery. His hands were speckled with dried paint, his shirt a mess, and his head still a little foggy from everything running through his mind the night before.

He had never planned on getting this far.

Never planned on standing in a room he was preparing for a baby. Never planned on thinking about cribs or carpets or curtains.

But here he was.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his face before reaching for his phone. He knew what he had to do, but fuck if he was going to do it alone.

Jensen: I need your fucking moral support today.

It didn’t take Jared long to respond.

Jared: Moral support for what?

Jensen exhaled through his nose, running a hand over his jaw before typing back.

Jensen: Baby store.

Jared: …holy shit.

Jensen: Shut up and get your ass over here.

Jensen locked his phone, rolling his shoulders before standing up and taking a good look around the room. The green walls were dry now, the color softer in the daylight. The room still felt empty as hell, but it was a start. And he was going to make damn sure it didn’t stay empty for long.

Jared was already waiting when Jensen pulled into the parking lot, leaning against his truck with his arms crossed and an absolutely shit-eating grin on his face.

Jensen groaned before even stepping out. “Don’t”, he warned the second his sneaker hit the pavement.

Jared just chuckled. “Oh, I am gonna”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he walked past him, straight toward the entrance. Jared followed, his grin only widening. “I just need a crib”, Jensen muttered. “Maybe a carpet. Some curtains”.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot coming from the guy who, just a couple weeks ago, was acting like this baby was an alien invasion”.

Jensen shot him a glare. “Moral support, Jared. Not moral commentary”.

Jared held up his hands in surrender, still grinning as they stepped inside.

The second they entered, Jensen felt like he had been hit with baby shit everywhere. Cribs. Strollers. Little clothes that were way too tiny. Shelves filled with things—things that made his head spin, things he had completely forgotten about from when his own kids were babies.

This wasn’t just picking out a crib. This was preparing for something he had been trying to run from for months.

Jensen swallowed hard, but before he could backtrack, Jared clapped a hand on his shoulder, grinning like the bastard he was. “Alright, man. Show me where the cribs are”.

Jensen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get this over with”.

Jensen had faced a lot of difficult things in his life. Grueling film schedules. Long flights. Even longer nights. Divorce. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared him for standing in the middle of a baby store, staring at rows of cribs while Jared fucking Padalecki grinned at him like he had just won the lottery.

Jensen let out a long breath, crossing his arms as his eyes scanned the options. Too many choices. Too many colors. Too many damn cribs that all looked exactly the same.

Jared, on the other hand, was having way too much fun. He leaned against a display, arms crossed, watching Jensen with pure amusement. “Never thought I’d see the day”, he mused, shaking his head. “Jensen Ackles, shopping for a crib. It’s like watching Bigfoot pick out furniture”.

Jensen shot him a glare. “Shut the hell up”.

Jared smirked. “Nah, man, this is too good. Should I call Gen? Maybe get Danneel on FaceTime? This is history right here”.

Jensen groaned, running a hand down his face. “I swear, if you don’t shut up—”.

Jared just laughed, clapping him on the back. “Relax. I’m proud of you, dude”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, pretending to be irritated, but the words did hit somewhere deeper. He didn’t respond to that, though. Instead, he turned back to the cribs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Which one of these things is… I don’t know. The best?”.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “Best at what?”.

Jensen exhaled sharply. “Best at keeping a baby alive, Jared. Isn’t that the whole point?”.

Jared snorted. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not that deep, man. Just pick one”.

Jensen frowned. “It’s not that simple”.

And apparently, it wasn’t—because before he knew it, he was running his hand along the wooden railing of one crib, testing the bars, then moving to another one, checking its sturdiness like he actually knew what the hell he was doing.

Jared watched in amusement as Jensen muttered to himself, comparing features, shaking cribs slightly to test their stability. “Wow”, Jared drawled. “You’re really putting your dad instincts into this, huh?”.

Jensen scoffed but didn’t stop inspecting. “It’s a crib. It’s gotta be solid. What if the kid starts climbing? What if the bars are too wide?”. He frowned at one and moved on to another. “What if it’s got some cheap-ass paint that chips?”.

Jared blinked. “Dude. Babies don’t just come out the womb climbing like monkeys”.

Jensen ignored him, still scanning the options. His eyes landed on white crib—solid wood, no flimsy parts, simple but sturdy. He ran his hand over the rail, nodding to himself.

“This one”.

Jared smirked. “Oh, so now you care about the details?”.

Jensen shot him a look but didn’t argue. Because, yeah, maybe he did care. Maybe picking this crib meant something. Maybe it meant he was trying.

Jared must have sensed the shift, because his smirk softened into something more genuine. “Alright”, he said, nodding. “Let’s get it”.

After the crib was loaded onto a cart, Jensen turned toward the next item on his list. “Curtains”, he muttered.

Jared raised an eyebrow. “You actually giving her a choice on those?”.

Jensen huffed. “She’ll pick everything else. I just wanna get something neutral”.

Jared smirked but didn’t argue, following as Jensen made his way toward the fabric section. And somehow, some-fucking-how, Jensen found himself holding up two different sets of curtains, actually considering shades like it was the most important decision of his damn life. “These?”. He held up a soft gray set. “Or these?”. A muted sage green.

Jared blinked. “Dude. They’re curtains”.

Jensen glared at him. “Yeah, but they gotta match the room”.

Jared snorted. “Alright, Martha Stewart. Go with the green. It matches the walls”.

Jensen grumbled but tossed them in the cart.

Next up: a rug.

Jensen wandered toward the aisle, scanning the options before stopping at one with a soft, plush texture. Simple, neutral, nothing fancy—but it looked comfortable.

While Jensen was focused on loading the cart with the essentials—crib, curtains, rug—Jared had somehow wandered off to another aisle. And that was never a good sign.

Jensen found him standing in front of a display of tiny baby clothes, holding up an impossibly small onesie with a goofy grin. “Man”, Jared muttered, half to himself, half to Jensen. “Maybe I should have another one”.

Jensen groaned. “Oh, hell no. Gen would kill you”.

Jared smirked but didn’t put the onesie back. “I mean… look at these”, he said, holding up a tiny pair of socks between his fingers. “They’re like… this big”. He pinched his fingers together dramatically.

Jensen exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “Jesus, Jared”.

Jared laughed, tossing the socks back into the bin before glancing at Jensen. “You know the gender yet?”.

Jensen shook his head, his fingers tightening on the cart handle. “No. Won’t know for another four weeks or something”.

Jared nodded, his expression turning more thoughtful. “You gonna find out?”.

Jensen hesitated, glancing down at the items in the cart. The crib. The rug. The curtains. The first things he’d actually bought for this baby.

For his baby.

“Yeah”, he admitted, voice quieter now. “I think I wanna know”.

Jared grinned, nudging him with his elbow. “Good. That way, I can get you something really obnoxious”.

Jensen rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Because, for the first time, he realized—he actually wanted to know. And maybe that meant something.

Eventually, Jensen stood in front of the rack, staring at the onesie like it had personally offended him. The design was so familiar, but just… off enough to avoid a lawsuit.

Jared stepped up beside him, taking one look before bursting into laughter. “No way this is legal”.

Jensen scoffed, shaking his head. “Someone at Warner Bros. is definitely gonna lose their shit if they see this”.

Jared picked up the tiny black onesie, reading the white lettering aloud. “‘Saving People, Hunting Things… My Family Business’”. He whistled. “Damn. They really just went for it, huh?”.

Jensen crossed his arms, smirking. “I mean, they changed like, one word. That’s gotta count for something, right?”.

Jared grinned. “Yeah, let’s see how well that argument holds up in court”.

Jensen let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he reached for the onesie. He turned it over in his hands, fingers brushing over the fabric. It was small. So damn small. His throat tightened a little. Before he could overthink it, he tossed it into the cart.

Jared’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait—seriously?”.

Jensen shot him a look, raising a warning brow. “Don’t”.

Jared bit back a grin, holding up his hands. “Just saying—you’re actually picking out baby clothes. On purpose. This is a big moment”.

Jensen rolled his eyes. “It’s just a onesie, Padalecki”.

“Yeah, yeah”, Jared said, clearly unconvinced. “And the crib was just a crib”. He nudged Jensen’s shoulder. “Admit it, man. You’re getting into this”.

Jensen sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing”, he muttered. “But if I let you pick shit, my kid’s gonna end up in a ‘Uncle Jared is my favorite’ onesie, and I refuse to let that happen”.

Jared grinned. “I mean… that can still be arranged”.

Jensen groaned. “We’re leaving”.

Jared laughed as he followed him toward checkout, watching as Jensen—Jensen Ackles—paid for a crib, a rug, and a damn Supernatural-adjacent onesie.

Maybe he wasn’t all the way there yet. But damn if he wasn’t trying.

That night, Jensen sat on the floor of the nursery, surrounded by unassembled crib parts, screws, and an instruction manual that looked like it had been translated into English by someone who had never seen a crib in their life.

He let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders before picking up the first piece of wood, aligning it with another.

Alright. Let’s do this.

The rhythmic process of assembling the crib—slotting parts together, tightening screws, rechecking everything—gave him something to focus on. Something to do. It kept his mind from spiraling into places he didn’t want to go.

But as the frame started to take shape, something inside him shifted.

Jensen sat back on his heels, looking at the half-assembled crib in front of him. It was real now. Tangible. A thing that was going to hold a baby—his baby—in just a few months.

His hands rested on his thighs, his fingers curling slightly as he exhaled.

For weeks, he had pushed this away, refused to let himself think about it too much. But now, sitting here, surrounded by baby furniture and walls he had painted himself, the truth settled in his chest like a weight.

This was happening. No matter how scared he was. No matter how much he hadn’t wanted this. It was real.

And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to want it, too.

He let out a slow breath, brushing his fingers over the wooden frame, imagining tiny fingers gripping the edge one day, little kicks against the mattress, quiet breaths in the middle of the night.

Jensen swallowed hard, his throat thick with emotion he wasn’t ready to name. He reached for another screw, tightening the last side panel into place.

And for the first time since you had left, he let himself think about the moment you’d see it. Would you be proud of him? Would you even care? Would this be enough?

He didn’t know. But for the first time in weeks, he knew one thing for sure. He wanted you to come home.

———————————

A/N: Hello and welcome back, lol. I didn't want to keep you waiting for the first chapter any longer, even though I still don't know when I'll post the following chapters. I might post one or two chapters per week, but maybe just one. I don't have a fixed day for that. Just a heads-up in advance.

And of course, please let me know what you think.🥰

-

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[seventeenpins]

Can we perhaps have something where stepdad Joel makes reader squirt-😗

alskdfjal yes of course this is so perfect :))) thank u for the prompt 💕

practice makes perfect

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: follow-up to bad girl. your mom decides to go out one night, leaving you and your stepdad at home alone together. feeling hurt and petty in response to his wife's cheating, he has no qualms with fucking you in your mom's bedroom. you make a mess.

warnings: okay lets go, a lot of fucking (so much fucking), stepcest, infidelity, oral sex (mentioned), unsafe piv, SQUIRTING, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, multiple orgasms, creampie -- let me know if i missed anything?

a/n: i am so completely blown away by the response to my first stepdad!joel fic -- thank you all so much for the comments and reblogs and messages, i fuckin cherish them all. as always, pls feel free to reach out. i hope you enjoy this instalment!

for the first week after joel walked in on you, you were half convinced your entire experience with him had been a fever dream. you hadn't seen all that much of him on account of a big project he's been grumbling about, something about a delayed material delivery that pushed him closer to a deadline than he'd prefer. you were busy yourself, too, going out with friends and spending long hours on some of your freelance work.

there were moments, though, that you'd catch one another and there'd be a glint of something in his eye.

one night, you, your mom, and joel are all sat at the table for a family dinner. your mom has drained her wine glass twice already, and is reaching for the bottle again as she tells you both, "i'm afraid i can't stay for long tonight, i just got a text from vera. sounds like she's having a bad night and needs a friend."

joel makes a sound like a snort that he follows up with a cough. "poor vera," he says, "she's been havin' an awful rough time lately, hasn't she? it's like she's inconsolable every other day."

"yes," your mom says, "she has been going through so much."

joel stares at her for a moment and you almost expect him to challenge her on it, but then he lets out a breath and smiles.

"you're such a good friend, baby," he tells her and she grins before turning back to her glass of wine and taking a big gulp. joel fixes you with a knowing stare and smirks. you both know she's not going to vera's.

after she finishes picking at her plate, she announces that she needs to get ready and dips out of the room.

"so, vera, huh?" you ask and joel snorts.

"can't believe your momma forgot she made me follow that woman on instagram months ago. according to her recent posts, she's currently travelling through iceland."

you roll your eyes and laugh, "seriously?" you ask, and joel nods.

"you'd think she'd be a better liar by this point," you say, and joel smiles but winces a little too.

it's not a game. you know it's not a game. just because you're used to your mother's antics doesn't mean it isn't new to joel, and he's only known for certain for a week that she's been unfaithful to him and that's gotta hurt. despite whatever's going on between you two, you know joel's heart is aching.

you're pretty sure you've just poured salt in the wound.

"i'm sorry, joel," you say, suddenly embarrassed, "i didn't mean to- i don't know. i didn't mean to make fun of it. i know you're dealing with... a lot."

joel shrugs and relaxes, "ah, it's alright sweetheart. just something i need to deal with. but you've done nothing wrong."

"okay," you say, and it's only then that you realise how close you've been leaning towards one another. at the sound of your mother's heels on the stairs, joel clears his throat and the two of you put more distance between yourselves.

your mother's voice carries down the hallway. "will you two be alright without me? i know you haven't had a chance to spend much time together."

"i'm sure we'll manage." you say, and joel smirks.

"she's a real good girl," he says, "'m lovin these opportunities to get to know her better."

"i'm glad to hear it," your mom says, and smiles between the two of you as you do your best not to choke.

"ya look great, baby," joel says, eyebrows raised as he looks your mom up and down. "cute dress. that makeup's gonna get ruined with your face masks, though, huh?"

she blushes and waves him off, "you know i like to get all get dolled up for my girls night," she says, "i can wipe the makeup off later."

"i'm sure you will," he says, and though you can hear the edge to it, you don't think your mom can. he presses a kiss to her cheek.

"i might be home late," she tells you both, "don't wait up!"

"no worries, baby," joel says, "in fact, if vera's having such a hard time, maybe you should make it a sleepover"

your mom grins and it's dazzling and heartbreaking. it's moments like this that you can see exactly why so many men have fallen in love with her. "that's a great idea, honey," she says, "i think i'll do just that! i'll see you both in the morning."

with a swish of her hair, your mom has left through the front door. joel groans, folding forward and resting his head in his hands, letting out a low "fucking jesus" before he sits back and composes himself. he lets out a deep sigh and then turns to look at you and shakes his head, closing his eyes, resigned.

you're not sure what's appropriate. you nearly reach out to deliver a comforting pat to his hand, but change your mind at the last moment, instead batting your hand out like a cat's paw and then recoiling.

joel's eyes weren't, apparently, closed. he sees your indecisive gesture, frowns, and gives you a look, before laughing. "you're okay, sweetheart," he says, his voice still tinged with the rumble of laughter, "it's all a lot to deal with. but i'm managing. and guess what?"

"what?" you ask.

"we've got a whole night to ourselves. just the two of us."

"oh yeah?" you ask, and you suddenly feel hot all over. joel's staring at you with such a darkness in his eyes that you're certain you're already wet.

"'f that's something you'd like, that is." joel smiles and it's almost unexpected the way he checks in with you, that he still has the capacity to focus on your needs. in his position, you might just be out to take what you could get, wholly and selfishly.

he's so... considerate. fuck he turns you on.

"i've got an idea," you say, and you take him by the hand and lead him upstairs.

you can feel his body stiffen when you stand in the doorway to your mother's bedroom. "you want me to fuck you in here?" he asks, and you can't parse his tone.

you're worried that you've gone too far, that despite the filthy way he fucked you only a few days ago, you've hit a barrier you should never have crossed, but you nod. before you can ask is it too much? he's growling "yes" and dragging you into the room.

he pulls you into a kiss, frenzied and feral, his teeth biting at you, nipping at your lips and cheeks, laving kisses down your throat. before you know it, you're both fully naked, clothes littered all over the floor of the room and joel's teeth are gently biting down on one of your nipples as he rocks his hips against yours.

"are you gonna let me take care of you? gonna let daddy take care of you?" he asks, "use your words."

"yes, daddy," you tell him.

"ya know," he tells you, running a hand down your sternum and resting between your breasts, feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, "there have been a few times i've gotten home late these past few days, and when i walked past your bedroom door i could swear i heard the sweetest little moans."

you blush and look away from him.

"uh-uh," he says, tipping your chin up, making you look at him, "were you thinkin' bout me?"

you nod. "yes daddy" it's the truth, after all.

"good girl," he smiles, "thank you for being honest with me. now i already know you're a dirty girl, what with all your naughty videos. and i know you're a fuckin' slut the way you spread your legs so easily for me."

"yes daddy," you echo.

"but what i don't know," he says, and his voice is velvet and dangerous, his pupils blown with hunger, "is just how many surfaces in this room i can bend you over and fuck you till you're so cock drunk you can't speak."

your eyebrows shoot up and your jaw drops.

"i ain't even started with you, honey," he smiles, and he drops to his knees.

it's a fucking marathon.

he eats you out at the foot of your mothers bed till you're panting, his lips glistening with your slick and he makes you feel so good you're certain you're gonna die.

then, your positions are reversed, joel trying his best to plant his feet into the carpet so he doesn't melt off the bed altogether, while you kneel before him. he fucks up into your throat, delighting in every vibration your moans and swallows provide.

soon, you're pressed up against the dresser, your fingers gripping onto the drawer handles as he fucks into your pussy from behind.

then against the bookshelf. the closet doors. there's a moment where joel gets closer than he'd like to coming and he has you grab onto the floor lamp as he eats your pussy again on bended knee, only this time you're standing up and trying your best not to crumple onto him when he makes you come a fourth and a fifth time.

you're starting to get overstimulated. no, you are overstimulated, but it's in the most oddly delicious way. joel has you folded over the foot of your mom's bed, your knees on an ottoman, the rest of you pressed against the mattress, fists groping at sheets, holding on for dear life.

it's a good angle, hell, it's the perfect angle. not only does it feel incredible, it helps prop your ass up to a height that allows joel's huge cock to fuck you deeper without too much more effort, gripping your hips as he pounds into you. the best part, though, is that you're both at the perfect angle to see yourselves in the full length mirror.

"jesus christ, baby," joel is saying, "you see how deep i am? feel how deep i am? pussy's so tight around this cock. can almost feel myself in here," he says, and presses two fingers against your tummy.

you moan, using every ounce of strength you have left to keep your ass in the air and take joel's cock so nicely.

"it feels so good, daddy," you sob, "it's so big, making me come so many times. fuck, i can feel it building- it feels so good, you make me feel so good-"

"yes, baby," he growls, "let go for me, let me feel you come stretched so pretty 'round daddy's dick."

"fuck, daddy," you whine, because you realise it's a different sensation that's been building and even though you know what it is, you've never quite reached an orgasm like this before. "i'm gonna come, daddy! i'm gonna fuckin come-"

"shit, baby," he says as he starts to feel hot wet spurts of liquid splashing out of you, "oh fuck, you gonna wet my cock with your cum?"

you're screaming now, so fucked out and overstimulated

"oh, shit honey, yes-" joel shouts, a man possessed, as he pulls his cock out from you and rubs furiously at your clit, moaning loudly as you gush all over his hand. "oh, i'm gonna need more of that," he groans, and you can't find words to argue. he fucks back into you, hitting that same spot, finding that same pressure.

"could fuckin drink this, baby," he says, "comin' all over my cock like the fuckin whore you are. look at us, baby, look in the mirror and don't you dare close your fucking eyes."

you obey. it's a struggle to get your eyes to even focus, but when you do, you're sent over the edge again and again and again.

the two of you look so fucking good, the jiggle of your ass, the angles of your bodies and the way you slot together, the tan of joel's arms, his muscles, his control, the silver of his hair.

his breathless mantra "good girl, good girl, fuckin' take it, such a good girl-," as you take everything he gives you and more.

he finds a rhythm for fucking every last drop out of you. he'll give you a few harsh, deep thrusts and then pull out and rub your pussy till you aren't gushing around him anymore. then he'll slap your pussy with the head of his cock, making you shudder before he stuffs it back in and builds you up again.

your thighs are drenched and the wetness down your legs is cooling. you've lost count of the number of times he's made you come like this, but finally, you're shaking so hard you can't bear it and his thrusts are getting staggered.

he's breathless when he manages to ask, "you want me to fill up this lil pussy? fill it full of daddy's cum?"

"yes, yes, yeesss-" you beg, and you watch your reflection as joel's hips stutter a final time and he lets out a strangled groan as he loses control and fucks his release into you.

the second after he comes, he collapses onto you but you're so weak and fuck-drunk you collapse, too. joel rolls off of you so you can breathe, but then both of you are laughing. you're disgusting, covered in sweat and spit and squirt and cum, but joel dips a finger into your pussy and then licks up the combination of juices.

seeing your awed expression, joel shrugs and then smiles, a little embarrassed. "just needed to taste ya like this," he says, and it's incredibly endearing.

after a few more minutes of laying around in messy, sticky comfort, joel gets up. and then- "shit".

"what's wrong?" you ask as you look up at him and he's- laughing?

you look down at what he's looking at -- the ottoman. you've drenched it entirely. it's at least three shades darker than it was to begin with, and reeks of sex.

"well," you say, "that's not ideal."

"guess i'll have to buy your momma a new one," he says, rubbing against his temples and barking out a short laugh. then he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and one to your forehead.

"you go have a shower," he tells you, "i'll take care of this mess, and then let's get some snacks," he winks, and you smile.

he starts to back out of the room when you call to him, "so, mom's gonna be gone all night-" you start to say, tentative.

"you already askin' for round two?" he asks, incredulous.

"if we're calling all of that-" you gesture around the room, "round one? then yeah. i'm asking for round two."

"dirty girl," he laughs, "you're fuckin insatiable!"

"that's not a no-" you point out.

"no, it's not a no," he says. "let's refuel. rehydrate. and get right back to it."

[starrayblogs]

chai? i love chai!

a/n: i love pavitr, he's so silly and i wanna be best friends with him ..... so here i am- writing a short story because my brain is literally being occupied by him, and i'd like to share it with you. enjoy!

another a/n: i haven't actually watched the movie yet! it hasn't released where i am D:, but i have been so hyped for the movie i just can't wait to watch it! sooo, sorry if there are any plot mistakes!

pavitr prabhakar + gn!reader

you're a spiderperson! hoorah! feel free to imagine yourself as your spidersona ü

"i love chai tea!"

"what did you just say? chai means tea, bro! you're saying tea tea, would i ask you for a coffee coffee with room for cream cream?"

"no. no, i'm sorry."

giggles bubble up from your throat as you fail to keep yourself from bursting into full-blown laughter at miles. "this is not funny." miles points a finger at you, who is currently bent at the knees with arms wrapped around the torso while laughing.

after a few more seconds, you rise up straight and fan your face as you try to stop from laughing. "aw, man, that shouldn't have made me laugh so hard." you say in between breaths of composure.

"chai tea isn't funny!" pavitr exclaims, crossing his arms.

"oh no, of course it isn't. miles's reaction was." you snicker a bit as you glance to miles, who gave you a glare. "but, on the topic of chai, i love karak chai." the lenses on your mask curve at the bottom to show some sort of smile, with your masked eyes.

"what did you just say?" pavitr's lenses widen as his arms unfold. "did you just say karak chai? you know your chai!?" he gasps, coming up to you with a hand over where his mouth would be.

"yeah! i love chai!" your eyes grin as your shoulders rise a little.

"gwen, i can't believe you've brought such a nice, new guy!" he turns to give gwen a surprised look before he turns back to you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "tell me, new guy," you cut him off to say your name, which he says and resumes. "how did you come across karak chai? are you indian too?" he asks curiously.

"no, actually, but i did grow up with some indian cuisine around me!" you reply with as much excitement as him. he lets out an 'oooohh' as his lenses grin at you. "i like you, new guy!"

"oh come on, what about me?" miles interjects and gwen lets out a laugh that she quickly covers up by clearing her throat.

"you said chai tea." pavitr pulls away from your shoulders to point at miles.

"i said sorry!"

you laugh again, this time recovering faster when pavitr turns to face to you. "tell me," he says your name with a cheerful look in his masked eyes. "do you also like naan?"

"oh, obviously, but..." you hesitate by squinting your lenses a bit, which makes the spiderman in front of you tilt his head. "i'm more of a paratha person." you admit sheepishly.

pavitr gasps as his lenses widen again. he stares at you for a few seconds, which makes you nervous because you think you've said something to upset him. "i have never met another spiderman that knows about indian food..." he mumbles, but there was a bit of a surprised tone in his voice. "i just know we are going to be great friends!" he exclaims, moving over to give you a side hug.

your eyes widen a bit, but you grin. you happily hang your hand over his shoulder, just like he did with yours.

"you should totally try some indian food here when you get the chance. i know all the great places!" he offers, tilting his head to you. your lenses curve underneath at his offer.

"i'd love that, oh my gosh. now that i think of it, i kind of do miss the food." you chuckle, a hand coming up to pat your stomach absentmindedly.

"we should totally eat out together whenever you're here!" he says, his eyes and tone filled with joy which brings a smile to your eyes and lips underneath the mask.

"that sounds like a fun time." miles adds himself in, which makes pavitr's head turn away from you to reply.

"hmm... maybe it will do you so good too, teach you how to not make mistakes like chai tea again." he says, and miles lenses widen as his demeanor immediately brightens.

"awesome! can we get naan bread?" miles asks, which receives a not-so-happy reaction from the indian spiderman.

"what did you just say!?"

pavitr pulls himself off your shoulder to point and scold at miles again. you and gwen glance at each other before bursting into laughter together, watching as miles does his best to apologize.

[unabashegirl]

Bella Hadid || Instagram Blurb

Author's note: Hello everyone! Here is a new instagram blurb. I hope all of you enjoy it. Also let me be clear my inbox is open so leave your request!

masterlist

liked by harrysfan98, yourbestfriend and 70,496 others

yourinstagram I really wish we could have been everything I dreamed we would be

view all 5039 comments

harryfan304 did they break up?

harrysfa928 why does she look like she has been crying?

yourfan20 he doesn't deserve you! You are too good for you.

yourbestfriend I'm coming over.

liked by harryfan398, harryfan294 and 50,083 others

tmz_tv Harry Styles seen with a mystery woman only days after alleged breakup with super model Y/N Y/L/N. Multiple sources close to the couple say that the breakup ended in good terms and that it was Y/N who ended things with Harry. What do you think?

view all 10,487 comments

harrysfan20 I doubt it. She is nothing without him

yourfan12 she was a model before him.

yourfan376 good for her. we all know that he would enventually cheat. Look how quickly he moved on. and he was in love with her?

harryfan194 he is allowed to move on

liked by jacobelordi, neymar and 15,285 others

yourinstagram back at Vogue's headquarters ��

view all 2958 comments

jacobelordi 👀

yourfan48 stop cause they would be the hottest couple ever

yourbestfriend how the hell can you manage to look like that? 🙄

sabrinacarpenter hott 🔥

liked by harrystyles, harrysfan56 and 8948 others

yourbestfriend wish I could take your place and give you a second without pain. I love you. 💕

view all 2406 comments

yourinstagram having you here gives me enough strength💜

yourfan48 so worried abt her

yourfan295 pls tell her that we are here for her

harryfan395 what's going on with her? is she sick?

yourfan184 she suffers from a cronic disease

liked by yourbestfriend, harrys948 and 40,294 others

enews Harry Styles has been seen flying back from England to New York. Close sources have reported that he is in New York to see Y/N Y/L/N due to the delicate state that she is currently on. The model has been fighting with a rare chronic disease that hasn't been disclosed to the public. Last week, her best friend posted a picture of her state which concerned the majority of her fans. We hope the model recovers soon and send our best wishes.

view all 20,857 comments

harryfan398 pls leave them alone.

y/nismyfavorite stop following him. only you people would take advantage of the situation.

liked by harrystyles, ariannagrande and 70,396 others

yourinstagram There has been of speculation about my health online lately. I just wanted to come on here and let everyone know that I am doing well and slowly recovering. I also wanted to clarify that I won't be disclosing any details about my disease and I would appreciate some privacy in the matter. Please stop calling my family and interrogating them. Thank you for all your messages. I will hopefully be back soon. 💖

view all 30,582 comments

ariannagrande love you! I can't wait to see you 💜

niallhoran stay strong 🥹

kendalljenner we miss you terribly ✨

harrystyles ❤️

yourfan he is definitely checking up on her and with her.

liked by jeffzoffs, pillowpersonpp and 2,583, 958 others

harrystyles Your blue-green eyes are driving me insane.

view all 30,583 comments

yourinstagram ♥️

harryfan937 finally 🙏🏼

harrys092 so she isn't sick anymore?

pillowpersonpp cute 🥰

liked by niallhoran, yourbestfriend and 108,485 others

yourinstagram educating this man. spicing up that dresscode 💁🏻‍♀️

view all 6980 comments

harrystyles i'll admit they are comfortable…

birkenstock ITS HAPPENING!! CALM DOWN PEOPLE!

yourbestfriend spicing up? ugly. 👎🏼

yourinstagram shut up. i've seen you wear them.

yourbestfriend aren’t they the same ones that make the Jesus chanclas?

niallhoran you are late to the trend mate 🤦🏻‍♂️

liked by yourinstagram, mitchrowland and 4,693,385 others

harrystyles educating her. zero sense of fashion. I am the model.

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yourinstagram get off the internet dofus! 🛑

harrystyles no. make me.

yourinstagram i dressed you last night

harryfan20 isn't she the model?

yourfan38 cute shoesss

adidas we love you both 🥹

mitchrowland harry doesn't know how to dress himself. he always calls y/n for her opinion.

harrystyles shut up mitch! 😡

yourinstagram I told you!

[cosmic-crybaby]

Break My Heart Again- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part 3

Summary: After being childhood friends, you and Thomas made a promise one day to get married, but when he returned from France, he came back a completely different man.

Warnings: Angst, mutual pining, betrayal, emotional manipulation, emotional whiplash.

It was 1919. Over a year since she left Thomas and the betting shop behind. [Name] was stuck in solitude for days, and each day her mother comforted her, easing her daughters cries until she slept. The first person to reach out to her since she had left, was Ada.

"Please talk to me [Name]," She had asked her friend, sitting across from her at the small dining table.

"There is nothing to say, Ada...I can't go back, not now," She picked at her nails anxiously, the deep burgundy lacquer slowly chipping away.

"Believe it or not, it hasn't gone completely to shit, but Aunt Pol is having a hard time finding reliable people to do your job-"

"That's not my job anymore," [Name] reminded her. "Listen I'm sorry...I really am,"

"Where will you go now?" Ada asked. The girl opposite to her thought for a moment, she could be a barmaid but the chances of running into the Peaky boys were high. Jobs for women were scarce now that the men are back. So she just opted to respond with a shrug.

"No idea, Ada..."

Over a year later and she managed to get a job at the local library. It was quiet, of course, but at the very least she was able to put some of her knowledge to good use. It paid well enough for her to live comfortably and it kept her hidden away from running into the Shelby Family. She was just glad she didn't have to resort to becoming a prostitute. Her mother would have a heart attack is that was the case. With the exception of Ada and Polly, who would often drop in to have tea with her and her mother or bring treats and gifts. Sometimes [Name] felt they only offered these gifts as peace offerings, of behalf of what Thomas had done. It was as if they still couldn't forgive him, and they would understand if she couldn't either.

Because in the last year, she had changed.

Physically and mentally. She had grown into a beautiful young woman, the stress of illegal betting and horseracing, the stress of Thomas Shelby had left her life, which in turn rewarded her to grow even more. In only a year, she begun to finally get noticed by the other young bachelors of Birmingham. Little did she know, she had them turning their heads all this time, she was busy with her eyes on someone else.

It was one afternoon when she met her current suitor. His name was Daniel and he was the sweetest man she had ever met. Considering she had only surrounded herself with the three Shelby men and the Peaky boys, that was a big change. While she was working at the front desk of the Library, he requested some aid in retrieving a couple of maps of the world. She didn't pay any mind to Daniel at first until the third and fourth week he had come in, still asking for her help.

"I remember you, I would assume you knew where the maps were by now," She quietly cut him off. This caught him off guard, making him flustered as he tried to search for his words. [Name] only smiled as she watched the dark auburn haired man blush more and more.

"I-I am sorry miss...I just," He cleared his throat. She arched her brow at him for a moment. He was at a loss for words as he admired her beauty. That day he had asked if she'd like to accompany him to some dinner in London, to get to know each other more.

It had been a very peaceful and cherishing month with Daniel, she found that he was a traveling business man and was looking to expand his company in America. But, like all good things it came to an end when Thomas Shelby came into the picture once again. While in London with Daniel, he took her to the shops to buy a new dress to meet his family one night. She had broken away from him as he spoke to the salesman about the dress he was about to purchase. Stepping outside to look at the lightly clouded sky, examining the different shops on the street.

"[Name]?" The voice sent shivers down her spine. She quickly turns at the mention of her name towards the deep voice.

"Thomas?" She asked, surprised to see him.

Seeing the man that broke her heart and betrayed her trust right in front of her eyes was like a whirlwind of emotions. She didn't know if she should stay, run, or beat him until he was blue and on his knees begging for her forgiveness.

But, she was better than that. She was with a man who actually loved her.

"It's nice to see you again," Thomas told her, stepping closer. She subtly takes a step back, clearing her throat as her eyes dart to the shop entrance, praying to God that Daniel will emerge soon so the two can leave the awkward interaction and never turn back.

"Yeah, sure, Thomas..." She nods slightly. Thomas Shelby didn't forget what happened between them over a year ago, but he was perplexed that she would still treat him like a stranger, even after all these years of being as close as they once were. Within that year of missing her by his side, he refrained from showing up at her home to see her, refraining from asking Ada and Polly to tell him what they had discussed when they visited her. Part of him hoped that her and her mother still took those evening walks in Uncle Charlies' yard after dinner. Thomas often found himself at Charlies' yard nearly every night, hoping he would run into her.

But that's exactly what she had avoided. [Name] did everything in her power to avoid every little place and thing Tommy knew about her. IT seemed to work, until this very moment.

"What brings you here?" She asked curiously. Hoping she didn't have to put her favorite dress shop in London on a list of places to avoid Thomas Shelby.

"Just...doing some business in London as it seems...until I saw you leaving the dress shop...thought I would come and say hello," He shrugged. [Name] looked down at her gloved hands, pondering her next words.

"I see...well, goodbye Thomas," She nods once, still avoided his eyes, afraid that once she sees his eyes again, it will start all over again. The warmth he gave her, the butterflies in her stomach, the cure to all of her hardships. She makes hasty steps past him, but his hand reaches out to grab her arm...it was gentle but firm as to not hurt her. He always knew how to be gentle with her.

"[Name], please..." He said quietly. She felt the tears brim her eyes as she slowly turned to him again. Slowly lifting her gaze to his eyes. Once he saw her tears, it was like everything around them had stopped. It was just them two together and no one else.

"What Thomas? What could you possibly want from me now?...After all this time, when I am finally happy you come into my life again, why?" She asked, sniffling as the small tears rolled down her high cheekbones and onto her chin. Her skin blushed, and her eyes were red with salty tears. He was at a loss for words at first.

He gently spoke her name again, reaching down to pick up her hand in his, testing the waters to see just how much she will accept from him. Her hand twitched and nearly jerked away as he slipped her glove off. Feeling the warmth of his skin made her comply. His hands were rough now, from the years of digging tunnels and fighting. She had no doubt that his hands and mind were both distressed.

"I...I'm sorry for how things ended between us...frankly I can't stop thinking about you," He told her regretfully. Her eyes were shining in the dim light of the London sun, the tears glistening as they roll. Each one looking like diamonds.

"You're sorry...After a year you're finally sorry," She almost laughed. Thomas only sighed.

"Yes of course! and...and I regret everything I said, I can't live my life without you, [name],"

"You should have thought about that before you asked me to marry you!" Her voice raised just a bit, before realizing that she was still in public, as to not bring attention to herself. For once, Tommy didn't know what to say next. His eyes darted across her face. Her cheeks were red, her brows were furrowed in frustration, and her lips... Oh those lips he had always wanted to kiss deeper each night upon his return, they were downcast in a frown. He released a sigh when he realized her eyes had not left his this entire time. He knew she still loved him deep down. She just couldn't bear it. His thumb ran over the top of her hand gently.

"I hurt you, I know that now and...There is nothing else I can say other than I am immensely sorry, give me another chance [name], I can prove it to you that I am a new man, as friends or more I need you in my life,"

His words made her lips tremble as she closed her eyes to think and steady her breath. She opened her eyes first before she opened her mouth to speak.

"[Name]?" A voice called, and suddenly the bubble bursts. It was like the busy street surrounding them suddenly became clear again. It wasn't just the two of them in the world anymore. She turned her head from Thomas to Daniel. The man she adored more than anything, as he searched for her. Thomas also managed to sneak a glance at the stranger, and his cold heart sunk a little deeper into the pit, leaving a sour taste in his mouth and a clenched jaw. She looked back at Thomas.

"Think about it," He whispered before walking off.

[Name] stood in her place in stillness as she tried to process what just happened to her. Daniel approached her, smiling widely as he informed her that he purchased the dress and reassuring her that it will look lovely on her for the dinner party with his family. She gave him a small smile before it quickly faded when he looked away from her.

The days leading up to the dinner party, she had thought of Thomas. It was like he himself had infected her mind as she had no more room to think clearly of anything else besides him and the words he spoke to her. But could she really trust him again?

Should she trust him again?

Every day and every night she had spent with Daniel, she tried her best to reciprocate the love he had for her, but somehow something was wrong. She didn't love him the way she loved Thomas. The night of the dinner party, she waited for Daniel to pick her up. Wearing the dress he had bought her, the jewelry she borrowed from her mother, and the hair and makeup she spent hours perfecting just to impress his family.

"What's wring, dear? Your hands are shaking," Her mother pointed out as she helped her daughter prepare.

"I...I don't think I can do this," She swallowed thickly. But before her mother could even ask, there was a ring at the door. [Name's] stomach was in knots and her blood ran cold. Her mothers words of encouragement were drowned out by her own raging heartbeat. When she opened the door, her mouth was agape. Expecting to see Daniel, instead Thomas stood at the front door.

Out of breath and panting. No words were exchanged as they stared at each other. She nearly leaps into his arms as she engulfs him in a tight embrace. It felt right, being in his arms again. Like they were kids again.

The following days, she kept her distance from Daniel, much to her mothers dismay. She had written him a letter.

To my Darling Daniel, I am sorry things had to happen this way. You had shown me the love no man has ever shown me before. But I am afraid I do not deserve it. Our time together was more than I could ask for, but I simply cannot keep loving you the way you want me to. I will forever cherish our memories together in my heart, as you were the only man to treat me a way a woman should be treated. I hope you find love again, and the next woman you find love in will be a very lucky to have you. I will always have you in my heart. [Name].

With the letter, she returned the dress he had bought her, she thought it would be ill-mannered to keep it. She hadn't heard from him after that. Not even a letter back, but she knew why. She would never hold that against him.

The following week, [Name] had began showing her face around the betting shop again. Here and there popping in to talk to Ada and Polly, slipping away into Tommy's office to speak with him when he wasn't busy. It was a but of a shock to the Shelby women when they saw her. They thought she was crazy for showing up again, but she had reassured them that everything was fine.

For months on end, [Name] and Thomas would spend their time together. Hand in hand as they drunkenly walked along the streets after visiting a pub on the weekends. Dancing to records in her home, holding each other close as they slow danced in the fire-place lit room. One night they went to the old hill, the same hill they used to go to when they were kids. Laying beside each other, drinking a bottle of cheap wine as they star-gazed. It was the only place where the sky wasn't absolutely covered by the smoke and smog of the city.

"I forgot how beautiful the sky was at night," She spoke softly as she sat up, eyes scanning the sky.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He asked, leaning his shoulder against hers. She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly with a nod, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Thomas?" She asked. He hums.

"I missed you,"

"I missed you too, [Name]," He spoke truthfully. That night, they shared a kiss.

A week later, she approached him in his office.

"Pol said you were going to the derby..."

"We are...It's an important matter of business, [Name],"

The girl sighs. "I know that...I also told you I would go with you if you needed me to,"

"No..."

"Uh- no?" She asked, perplexed.

"Absolutely not, Kimber is a dangerous man, you're not coming with us," He argued. She aggressively rolls her eyes and throws her hands up in the air before putting them on her hips.

"I was hoping to come talk to you without being interrupted-" She mumbled.

"And I was hoping you would know better than to ask to join on this mission-"

"Then who are you taking?" She interrupted him, crossing her arms. Thomas sighs, shaking his head in disbelief at her childish attitude.

"The barmaid,"

"The barmaid? Why the fuck would you take the barmaid?" She asked. He widened his eyes at her for a moment. She bit the inside of her cheek as she waited for his response.

"It's all a part of the plan, please trust me," He stood as he slowly walked to her, placing his hands on her shoulders to calm her mind. She pursed her lips, a solemn look on her face.

"I don't care who goes with you to the derby, I just can't sit here and hope you'll come out alive one of these days...I-" She pauses. "I adore you too much, Thomas,"

He pulls her into a tight hug, his hand caressing her hair as he kissed her forehead. "Everything will be okay," He reminded her. Lifting her chin to slowly look at him. Her eyes, as alluring as they were. His lips attack hers in a rough kiss. Pushing [Name] against the wall as her fingers pull at the fabric of his white shirt, his body pressing against hers. She could practically feel his heart beating against her chest. His hands slipping down her body, her waist to her hips to the roundness of her ass. His strong hands gripping every curve of her as he started pulling at her dress with his hands. Pulling away to catch their breath, but before she would dive in for another kiss Finn had burst through the door, inquiring that their Aunt Polly needed to speak to Thomas at once.

Begrudgingly letting him handle his business, she was left alone in his office, blushing and fanning herself with her hands as the heat began to rise, biting her lip in bafflement.

She wanted to see him again and ask about the kisses they had started. What they meant, what would have happened if they weren't interrupted. But Thomas too involved with conspiring against Billy Kimber. Fucking Billy Kimber. Hearing his name made her clench her jaw. He had been the talk of every family meeting since he found his way into Birmingham just weeks ago. But Thomas was just too busy. Too busy to talk to her. Eventually, too busy to even see her as frequently.

She recognized the pattern. It was what happened to her before he left for France. If only she could just read his mind, find out exactly what was going on in that head of his. From seeing him and his eyes, his smile every day, to seeing him at least once a week. This time he would still act the same with her. Kind, gentle, caring, but somehow she knew it was different. He wouldn't touch her, or kiss her like he used to. [Name] thought that maybe, just maybe, if she told him how she felt everything will go back to normal. Perfect even.

She just had to wait for the right moment.

When Thomas had come to her home for an evening tea with her and her mother, she decided that she would tell him then. The tea was nice, the conversations went well. [Name] was eager to finish, to get it all over with, waiting for their moment alone. Later that night, after her mother excused herself to bed, the two sat on the couch, sharing a whiskey as they talked. She sat her glass down when he called her name to get her attention.

"I need to tell you something,"

Her ears and cheeks grew warm as she looked at him, eyes brighter than ever.

"I actually need to tell you something too...but please go first," She smiled. Thomas turned his body slightly towards her, seemingly less enthusiastic as her. Thomas clears his throat before he spoke.

"I want to start off by apologizing for not seeing you as much these past few months, but I promise everything is going to work out for the better in the end, not just for my family, but for yours as well..." He paused, holding one of her hands in his.

"Thomas," She glances at their interlocked hands before looking up at him again. His blue eyes didn't look as bright in the dim lighting of the room.

"You have been with my family since the beginning, and you helped us out when we needed you the most, when everything takes off, I want you by my side through it all, promise me that you will do that for me [Name]," He requested. The young woman stares into his eyes once more and nods silently.

"I can't imagine leaving your side...ever," She stated quietly. Thomas looked down again, smiling slightly. As far as she knew he rarely smiled now...the only time she saw him smile was when he was with her.

"There was another thing I wanted to talk about," He started. She nods, urging him to continue. "There's a woman,"

His voice dropped low, the way he said 'woman' rumbled as her cheeks flushed. At the drop of a pin, her lively face slowly dropped at his words.

"A woman?"

She sank into the sofa as he spoke, but his words fell upon deaf ears. Her mind went numb, buzzing as she blankly stared off into the shadows of the room. He loved her, convinced her to leave Daniel, kissed her, treated her like she was the only woman for him...almost married her. All those years together, meant nothing to him. Once again. She should have known better than to get attached to a man like him.

A man only out for his own good.

"[Name]...You're crying," He pointed out, stopping mid-explanation to wipe the tear. She wanted to tell him. Tell him she loved him, that she wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of their lives. She looks at him and smiles.

[Name] shook her head and sniffled, chuckling and looking away to wipe the tear.

"I'm just...really happy for you Thomas...She seems like a nice woman," She didn't hear a word he said about her. The mystery woman that had stolen his heart.

'If only you knew what I felt'

After Thomas had left that night, she went to her room, sobbing in her bed. The heaviness in her chest weighted her down as she was held into place by rocks. The agony she felt, not only for herself but for hurting the only man that loved her. All for nothing. It was too late to go back now.

---

[Tag List]

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @milljane @cyphah @diosa-ahre-blog @badlandsbrunette @adaydreamaway08 @namelessghoul0 @deltamoon666 @cherryslyce @calmingmelody96

[dseval]

ArchiveVerse Cross

(sorry if the quality is butchered everyone Ibis paint is uncooperative today)

Finally, i'm able to work on ArchV content, with my favourite character, Cross. More under the cut.

Cross is the first one to get a 'reference sheet' or a character intro, since he's the first one to kickstart this AU too. Expect more ArchiveVerse charcaters to receive the treatment in the future.

(though for now Delta is next, because i absolutely hate his current archv design, and i'm redoing it. If you had anyone you're interested in seeing next, please tell me.)

I actually don't know how to format this post, though, so sorry if the information is all over the place (or if it's too much information). To understand most of the things I write here, please refer to my ArchiveVerse post.

★Info★

Cross, a student from the Omega Public School (OPS), used to be a normal student. That is, until he got caught in trouble along with Ink and a student from Juvie, Error. Ink was let off scot free, but Cross wasn't so lucky. Due to the troubles he caused, he was quickly arrested and thrown to the Juvenile Containment. Much to his own displeasure.

There, as much as he distances himself, he made friends with the other students contained there (Dust, Killer, Horror, and Nightmare). Though, it doesn't deter him from grinding hard for credits and speedrunning his community service to be released fast and quick from Juvie. He succeeded.

After graduating from the Juvenile Containment, Cross returned to OPS, and swore to just become a normal student, avoiding having himself thrown into Juvie again. He tries his best to steer clear from trouble, though the other Juvie students seem to bring that trouble to him, often dragging him along to their mischief.

Quick facts:

His height is 180 cm (probably he's the third tallest character in archv)

Cross's powers are Lightning, and on the side, he has small matter manipulation powers, able to break down molecules, though he hasn't explored his capabilities with this yet.

His powers are volatile, and he still had difficulties controlling it. Occasionally he'd accidentally zap someone when he touched them. Purple sparks of lightning also fizzle out of his fingertips when he's flustered or nervous.

He wears at least three layers of clothing.

Cross has been described as handsome, with long legs.

He rides his bicycle everywhere, often going for rides in the weekend too.

Cross always brings his school bag whereever he goes, in it are chocolate energy bars, and other utilities.

His eyelights are starry whenever he's overjoyed (this is his swap sans trait guys)

Every student in OPS has their own house, Cross makes sure to keep his living space tidy and neat.

Character relationships:

(These are only the ones i can mention off the top of my head)

Cross and Dream hangs out sometimes. To drink latter or get breakfast. Cross really admires him.

He often hangs out at the arcade with Delta, Epic, and Color. Delta seems somewhat hellbent on beating him at anything, Cross felt like he can't lose. Epic and Color plays a cooking game.

Dust, who was banned from entering most merch stores and malls, often sent Cross for fetch quests to get him any new Ice-e merch. Cross finds this annoying but obliges.

Killer and him often zap each other back in juvie, he still have black spots and bruises in several parts of his body. Nowadays, they still zap each other sometimes, Killer mostly for teasing— and Cross, on accident.

Horror and him often went to all-you-can-eat events together, they also exercise together occasionally.

Even out of Juvie, Cross still calls Nightmare by 'boss'. Nightmare finds it embarrassing of him.

Cross rarely met Ink, still somewhat wary that Ink will drag him into some sort of trouble. Though, he doesn't hate him.

Credits (please tell me if I missed anyone!):

Cross Sans by Jakei

Artstyle inspired/taken directly from Mx2j, one of the artists for Blue Archive. The character intro format itself follows Blue Archive.

Mentioned characters: Dream & Nightmare Sans (Joku), Dust Sans (Ask-Dusttale blog), Killer Sans (Rahafwabas), Horror Sans (SourAppleStudios), Ink Sans (Comyet/Mye bi), Error Sans (CrayonQueen/LoverofPiggies), Epic (yugogeer012), Delta (AnimatedZorox), Color (superyomna)

[fizzyapplecandy]

The one with the female vampire, and her spark

Ateez Yunho X Fem Vampire Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Comfort

1.7k words

An addition to the previous imagine

Hey guys!

I wanted to get a bit into the whole 'spark' thing with our main characters. I hope you were curious about that whole ordeal as well.

Enjoy! X

Have you ever wondered about soulmates? Your one, big, true love? What a load of crap, am I right?

Well, let me tell you something about soul ties then.

It's similar to the soulmate thing, only amplified. Once you bond yourself to your mate, there is no going back.

You feel happiness, they feel happiness. You feel joy, they feel joy.

You die, they die.

You get the gist.

I didn't think much about soul bonds until I met Yunho, my current human boyfriend. He's been adapting to my vampire side almost naturally. His friend Wooyoung has gone on a trip with my ex fling in order to learn more about the life of a newborn vampire. (And so as to not harm his friends and family here)

I've been thinking about the 'spark' as me and Yunho call it almost non-stop. We know it's not an ordinary bolt of electricity.

The library hasn't been extremely helpful. Every ancient text I have doesn't mention a single thing about a bond between a human and a vampire.

I was sitting on the couch in my living room, sipping on a chilled glass of freshly squeezed B positive when Yunho came through the door.

"Hey baby."

He leaned down to give me a peck in the lips and sat beside me.

"Hey buddy boy. How was the last exam? Although I'm certain your big, smart brain aced it"

He got a bit red in the face, not yet used to my praises.

"I have high hopes for this last one. I have even higher hopes for that promise of yours."

Ah, yes.

Ever since Yunho found out about my cold blooded side, he's been adamant on becoming one himself. We've been together for about six months now, and I've honestly thought about it too much. The only problem making me question my decision is simple - fear.

Fear that he will change his mind about me, run away, and I'll never see him again.

"I know baby boy, but we've talked about this. Once you get all of your results and graduate, the honor to turn you will be mine. I just want to make sure you understand how serious this is. I love you, Yunho, but I don't want you to miss out on life."

I looked at my almost empty cup, unaware of his intense gaze.

"Listen, baby. There isn't a thing in the world that's going to stop me from changing my decision. I want to be with you. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you."

He took my face into his palms.

"When I look at you, all I can see is my happiness."

If I could still cry, I'd tear up right about now.

I sighed and nodded.

"Okay, I'll fulfill my promise."

.

.

.

Two weeks later we were celebrating Yunho and Wooyoung's graduation with an intimate dinner between the two of them, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong. He's become a key part of the group after his famous college bash.

"A toast! To finally putting an end to this shit show! I hope to never suffer through college again!"

Poor Woo. He doesn't know that college will become his favorite pastime in the lifelong journey of a young vampire.

We clinked our glasses together and the room was soon filled with laughs and jokes.

"Seriously Y/N! When will you turn my best friend? I have stronger willpower now, but it's still tempting!"

I kept quiet through his inquiry.

"Knock it off Woo." Mumbled Yunho beside him.

"No, like, I get it. You don't want this life for him. The cold skin, aversion to the Sun, drinking blood... Have you thought about how selfish you are though?"

My head shot up and my eyes bled black. Before I could rip his jugular our, my sweet boyfriend cleared his throat.

"Listen guys this has been truly great, but I think it's time for you to go. And you -" he pointed at Wooyoung "- stay out of our business. What we do, and the agreements we make don't concern you."

That ought to shut him up for some time.

After they left I got ready for bed while Yunho washed the dishes. He knows I'm capable of doing it myself, but he insists that I've "washed too many dishes in my lifetime" and that I should relish in his helping hands.

"Baby? Are you all set up for bed?"

"Yeah, just waiting on you."

He came into the room freshly showered, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Now, that is a sight for sore eyes.

Unfortunately, we knew tonight wasn't about that kind of intimacy.

"I hope you didn't let Woo get to you. We all know how bras he is about things."

I nodded and looked into his eyes.

"Yeah, it's just... I don't want you to think I'm changing my mind. I want you, Yunho. I'm just... Scared."

He put in his pyjamas and slid beside me, circling his arms around my waist. He gently placed a kiss on my forehead, before moving my head up to give me a light peck.

"I get it. I'm scared, too. But the thought of not being with you scares me even more, you know that?"

I placed my hand on his cheek.

This was going to be tough.

"Do you want me to do it now?"

His eyes widened and he sat up.

"Like right now, now? I mean..."

"We don't have to if you aren't ready. I kind of said this out of the blue. Forget it."

He pulled me up beside him. He gulped and took a deep breath.

"Do it, Y/N. Make me yours forever."

We looked into each others eyes as I nodded slowly. Without breaking our gaze, I bit my wrist to let my midnight blood flow.

"It's not going to be tasty, just so you know."

Without hesitation, he grabbed my wrist and put it to his mouth. I forgot how it felt to be sucked dry of your blood. With the intensity he was doing it, you'd think he was the vampire.

"Okay buddy boy, that's about enough."

He pulled away from me, all smeared around the mouth with the liquid. That was the easy part of it all.

"You get that now I have to... Snap your neck, or... I don't know? You'll have to die now."

"I... Yes, I get it. Just... Be as gentle as you can. I think a quick snap of the neck will do."

"I love you, Yunho."

"I love..."

He was out like a light before he finished the sentence.

.

.

.

I stayed up all night watching over him. I could see his skins getting paler, along with his muscles contorting. It wasn't a pretty sight, but I knew the transformation would soon be over. I had a couple of blood bags ready because his hunger would take over the shock.

Just as I was about to flip another page in my book, I felt him stirring beside me.

"What in the world? Why is everything so pixelated? Y/N?"

"Hey there baby boy, how are you feeling?"

I touched his cheek and froze. If our touches were sparks before he turned, now they were fireworks.

The sensation made him sit up straight, and his crimson eyes bore into mine.

"You can feel that, right? Y/N? I think I'm in love with you."

"Roger that. I thought you were already?"

He shook his head. "No, like... I was before, but now it's..."

"More intense?"

"Exactly."

I put my palm onto his now still heart. My fingertips were vibrating.

"I don't know what this is baby, but I think we were meant to be."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Like soulmates?"

I froze for a second. How could I forget?

I jumped out of bed and ran into my study. The answer was right under my nose this whole time.

"Y/N? Hey, why are you in such a hurry? I mean can't the books wait, we have a more important issue here." He gestured to himself, but I couldn't stop until I found it.

"Ha! I knew it was here! Let me just..."

I opened up the old journal and flicked through the pages.

There it was, smack dab in the middle. I pointed at the words underlined and called Yunho over.

"Soul ties?" I nodded.

"Soul ties baby."

He picked me up and spun me around, laughing in glee.

"I knew we were something special! Where did you get this from?" He gestured towards the journal, and I smiled sadly.

"I met a young woman once, while traveling around Istanbul. She was a witch, known for her abilities to see soulmates, or in our case, soul ties. She claimed every person on this planet had another half, separated by the stars. Our spark wasn't as intense with me being supernatural, and you being human. Now that we are the same, we can feel everything, all at once."

He nodded in understanding. "I get it. It fits us, you know. Soul ties. It has a nice ring to it."

He flipped through the pages again. "What happened to the woman?"

If vampires could cry, this is where a tear would drop.

"She couldn't live with the fact that her soul tie died. So she went to the lake he drowned in, submerging herself two months after his funeral. She left the journal on her desk with a note attached."

I went to the last page of the journal where a piece of paper was stuck.

"To Y/N. I hope you find your special someone, someday. After all, you have a whole eternity to search. I wish you all the best. Use my notes if you ever have any questions or concerns. Thank you for being a part of my short life. You made it memorable.

Love, Sevdah."

Yunho hugged me from behind, and put his head on my shoulder.

"You do make everything memorable Y/N."

.

.

.

"Remember the talk about soul ties we had?"

"Yes, Wooyoung, I remember the one hundred questions you've asked."

"Okay, well, do you guys like read each others thoughts? Or like, can you feel each other up from a distance?"

He was pulled up by his collar by my overly strong and protective (now immortal) boyfriend.

"Okay, off you go now pervert."

"Hey, that was a valid question!"

[usedpidemo]

Update - 3rd year anniversary! (and some future plans, a reflection, etc.)

Hi everyone! π here.

By the time this post is up, it'll be the 13th of May. Three years since I began my writing journey and this Tumblr blog. Three years. Time flies by so fast. I was close to graduating senior high after it was delayed because pandemic, had my graduation in an empty room basically, now I'm hitting my third year of college. Crazy stuff.

With that said, here are the stats + timetable of the blog so far:

First work: Sandwich (Wendy) (published 05/13/21, 4:03 a.m)

Highest note count: Tell your friends (Yujin x Wonyoung) (published 01/14/23, 1274 notes)

Number of works published: 91 fics (1 fic every 12.03 days)

500 followers: June 18, 2021 (36 days)

1000 followers: October 12, 2021 (152 days)

2000 followers: June 18, 2022 (401 days)

3000 followers: November 12, 2022 (548 days)

4000 followers: May 22, 2023 (740 days)

5000 followers: December 18, 2023 (950 days)

Current follower count: 5615 (1 new follower every 5.12 days)

It's been a hectic final month of college, so I apologize for the lack of activity in recent times :< But summer is coming up very soon, so hopefully I'll have all the time in the world to write more till then! I will say, a new fic is on the near horizon, so please be on the lookout!

I would like to take the opportunity to thank every single of you, whether reader, lurker, or a fellow writer for your support! Especially during these lull times, your unwavering support has kept me afloat and has been a motivation in continuing to write. Love you guys as always. Here's to another fruitful year <3

From this point, this part will be an overall reflection and life summary of the previous year, my thoughts on some personal matters, and some ideas I've been contemplating. If you don't wanna read this, you can stop here.

I miss 2023 quite a bit, not gonna lie. I know nostalgia can quickly grow warm and fuzzy, seeing the past through rose tinted lens, but I'll admit that 2024 hasn't been off to the start I envisioned it to be. That year was mostly peak for me, and I could even argue it's my favorite year to live out based on all my experiences. Traveling to new places, finally attending live events, interacting with my K-pop biases, and so on—it really felt like the best was yet to come with how 2023 flowed and transitioned into the new year.

Five months in, and I am struggling. Horribly. Most plans, dreams, and ideas have gone up in smoke, and it's just one devastating gut punch after another. I have a shitty professor in one major that basically made me check out of that class, and I don't know my family will react when I tell them I have to repeat said class because that professor was a dick. My family's been infighting on a daily basis, and I'm mostly collateral damage to them. Not one week can go by without some serious confrontation between them. There was a brief health scare with my mother, but that seems to be a nothing matter; thank God she'll be okay.

All this just makes life so deflating, in all honesty. I get that no life is without struggle, but I genuinely don't know when we'll be in the clear. Not anytime soon, I reckon. In these tough times, there's very little comfort except the past, when everything was pretty all right for the most part. It's been demotivating to write when mom comes forward with another grievance with my sister. It's hard to write when you have a professor who likes to power trip their students into submission. It's hard when you don't know how to admit to your mother that he failed his one class because of said power tripping professor.

But that doesn't mean I will let it eat me alive. I know we've been through some utter lows in the past. And we always get back up. If no one has us, then God does.

Summer break is fast approaching and I want to fix things. Even in my own little way. I know none of what I'm saying has anything to do with writing degenerate stories about hot K-pop idols, but real life circumstances have definitely affected me more than I can brush off. I should be calm, unfazed, undeterred.

After all, some stories are meant to be finished. They just take a more unconventional route. Ask Cody.

With all that being said, I will finish these commissions over the next two months. I'm really sorry to everyone who requested and paid for their stories months and months ago; I genuinely feel bad for not getting these out on time, but I am very mindful of quality control, and I have no one to blame but myself for being a slacker and lazy worker. Despite my feelings, I should remain professional—that's what being a worker means.

A lifestyle overhaul is definitely in my list of things to improve over the summer too. Figuring out how to get writing done, finding ways to alleviate my PokeRogue addiction (GOTY), whilst having a healthy work/life balance and not losing my sanity over it. Or worse, burning out.

And I want to take this opportunity to thank all my friends—peach, caps, majorblinks, chunk, frisky, raf, c.o, levi, sins, iz, ken, v1n, ddeun, notions, kevin, eros, brandon, kaede, svn, frisky, cray, rpg, prael—for putting up with my shit for another year. This life is tough, but you guys make it tolerable. Thank you for letting me air out my grievances even when it wasn't the best time to. I pray that when everything passes, I'm able to repay you all in some shape or form generously.

And to you, dear reader, for making it this far, thank you. Whether you've been with me since day one, or day 1094, as a commenter, reposter, liking, or just passing by/lurking, thank you for giving me a chance. Without you, all of this would have been for nothing. I don't know where I would be now if I didn't take that chance, that leap of faith back in 2021, and it's because of you I am able to keep doing this for the love of the game.

With grace,

Peter / π

[perpetuallyconfuzzled]

TFONE - Next time

"No, I did it for us" Orion is so glad that speaking before thinking is working in his favor for once because the sting of guilt that just shot through his spark at how surprised and touched Dee sounded was going to eat him up alive especially as he meets the other mech's hopeful optics. 

I am still kinda new at writing and I honestly had this one gathering dust for months but JUST got the time to clean it up to post (I was also chickening out constantly so JAAAAA;;;;;;;;;;) so here have my horrid little fluff(?) of Optimus making the biggest fumble in Cybertron's known history

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

The city was loud, louder than it had been in Primus knows how long, and then some, and Pax was going to take advantage of it to the fullest.

The day before had been hell on wheels, nothing really going according to plan and just going from bad to worse; He hadn't been able to check on Jazz again or face the rest of the team after what happened with Elita, especially knowing that, if he were given the choice, he would have done it again. 

But frag it! He wasn't here to remember that, he needed to clear his helm. After this was done, he would be able to face them all again with a head held up high, knowing their sparks would be soaring in hope. This was the day to show all of Cybertron who they were and that no matter if you were born with or without cogs, anyone can make a difference and change the faith of their people!

Orion navigated the crowd with relative ease, optic sharp as he looked around for the promised opening he KNEW would lead them to the arena "Come on, come ON" he looked over at Dee every once in a while, vaguely paying attention to his friend's rambling, probably something about the race and who he was hoping would win Dee hasn't stopped talking about it since they woke up.

"-and with Behemoth on the race you KNOW it will be AMAZING, they have been one of the toughest speeders in the last few cycles! With the redoubling of the mine shift I haven't been able to see much of him anymore but I am sure he'll easily make it to the top 10 or maybe even win-" Orion chuckled as they kept walking to the stadium, his friend was practically glowing with delight and sang Sentinel's praises between each step they took, thankful for the Prime rewarding them all for all their cycles of devotion and sacrifice. Orion walks and listens, and for a second he gets swept with the current, just happy to follow along with Dee until his eyes finally catch the opening he has been looking for.

BINGO

"I have a surprise for you"

"Wha- Where are you going? The stadium is that way!"

"Yeah, yeah I know... Follow me" Pax moves to the side, not needing to look back to make sure if Dee is following or not. No matter how much he grumbled or bemoaned his shenanigans Orion knew Dee was always a few steps behind him; besides, he was already occupied watching out for the turbines "Pull up!" The current throws him off for a second as he held on to the handles at the left of the tunnel, making sure his friend was able to hold on and stand back up once the coast was clear to continue "Get caught in one of those and it'd launch you halfway across the city"

"Okay? But where are you taking me?"

Orion can't hold back the mischievous smile that breaks out, Dee is going to FLIP when he sees it, he can't wait to see his face! "Don't be a glitch, this will be totally worth it! Trust me" and once he wins him over with this there is no way he can say no!

"Hey, you don't be a glitch!" Orion opened the grate at the top of the stairs, looking around and making sure the place was as unprotected and deserted as it always had been 'Perfect, no one is here!'

"I know this is fun for you like, joking around-" Pax holds in a chuckle as he steps aside for his friend, ooooh this was going to be great "but if you make me miss ANY part of the IACON 5000 I swear I will smelt your-" 

Primus, he finally noticed

"-face right off..." and he lost him, he wasn't sure if he should laugh at how dumbfounded Dee looked or pay any attention to the warm swelling of pride inside his chestplate knowing he made D-16 lose all his words. 

The more he stared outside the brighter his optics burned, like that of a sparkling exploring Iacon for the first time, he was mesmerized and the larger Dee's smile grew the harder it was to ignore the burning joy dancing around his spark, he was going to love his plan! "Look- LOOK! There's Thunderglide and BEHEMOTH"

Hearing the other's, usually more calm and otherwise sarcastic, tone morph into one so full of genuine happiness was amazing. He really liked it!

"This. Is. UNBELIEVABLE!"

He can't help but smile just as broadly as Dee, his joy was just so contagious! And how can he not when the mech sounds way too cute when excited... Would Dee kill him if he said that out loud-

"It feels like I'm in the race"

And he is IN femmes and gentlemechs, The bot is on our side!! Okay, it's now or never Pax, Dee has always been pretty emotionally driven so if he is in a great mood, there are close to no plans he won't participate in! He just has to give him the jetpack now and explain what to- 

"You did this... for me?"

I-

Oh

"No, I did it for us" Orion is so glad that speaking before thinking is working in his favor for once because the sting of guilt that just shot through his spark at how surprised and touched Dee sounded was going to eat him up alive especially as he meets the other mech's hopeful optics. 

Orion lifts his fist with (what he begs all primes ever created it to be) a relaxed reassuring smile as he hides away the light panic rattling inside his helm and Dee, ever trusting and ever loyal, meets his fist with his own, smiling with such a goofy, genuine, happy smile it was impossible to look away while his spark stabbed at him once more. That was the smile of someone who trusted him to not lie about this not being another scheme or another misadventure, of someone who just wanted to spend a well-deserved break with his best friend and watch something fun before heading back to work the next day, of someone who fully believes that even after everything there could never be any deception behind such a sincere (bordering on intimate!) act.

... but there was no lie, right? It really was for them, all of them, he wasn't exactly lying to him! This was for Dee to finally see himself as someone who should be able to be whatever they wanted to be and for all the miners to be free of their oppressive and brutal routines.

He'd see, they would all finally see that they are more than meets the eyes (and if a small voice that sounded eerily similar to Dee's whispered with a twinge of hurt 'You are a liar Orion Pax' he pays it no mind)

His mind quickly picks up on Sentinel's speech and he mumbles a soft curse (Frag, since when has he been there?) as he starts paying attention to the prime above them, he can worry about how Dee will or will not hate him later this was important! This was their only chance to show Iacon and Sentinel Prime that they could help out, that there had to be a way to let bots be more proactive with their own lives instead of having the miners waste away between the rubble and scraps of Energon.

Orion examines Dee one more time as the other stares at the Primes of old with reverence, his goofy bright smile replaced with a more solemn frown as if he were in the presence of the actual Thirteen. There is a fire on his optic Orion only sees whenever the other speaks about Megatronus Prime before going back to the spark of joy he had before, the mech really couldn't wait for the race to start and-  and for a moment Pax falters once more.... is he really going to do this? He knows Dee is always cleaning after him and saving his aft from every disaster he drags him to-

"Racers"

This is not the first time he has done something like this and it won't be the last-

"On your marks!"

Besides, Dee is going to love it! Once he is soaring into the skies and gets to meet that Behemoth or Thunderglider guy he would know it was a good plan!

"I can't believe we get to watch from the starting line-" 

This is for all of us, everyone is counting on them now, and there is no turning back.

"The best seats in the house-... why'd you bring jetpacks?"

He'll make it up to him next time. Definitely. Next race they'll sit back here and watch, no adventure, no trick, just the two of them like Dee wanted.

"Get set!"

Next race for sure, but not this one.

"It's time to show them, we are more than meets the eyes"

And those golden eyes grow dull again, the smile vanishes into a frown and for some reason, Pax feels his spark drop painfully when it does.

"Oh no"

It's not angry or sad, it's not even exasperated, he sounds... disappointed, almost defeated.

But it's alright, he'll make it up to him, 1000% 

Next time, promise.

But right now they have a race to win.

[iamjacksragingboner]

Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap - Alternate Endings

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: Some angst but like you'll live, you don't end up with Soap though you're rejecting him like that's the whole thing

Part One: You can find part one with the original, happy ending here. Please read that one first so you're up to speed with the context to these other endings.

A/N: As I was writing the end of the Gross Childhood Best Friend Soap fic, I briefly had the thought to make the reader reject Soap, like bitch oh my god have some self worth you don't need to immediately forgive him for being a dick to you.

Anyway, this alternate ending could go one of two ways.

The Immediate Rejection.

“Why don’tcha come back to mine with me, bonnie,” Johnny coos, and for a moment you almost accept his offer.

Almost.

Sure, the boy you’d spent way too many years pining over and never gave you the time of day finally paying attention to you was great, in theory, but it only took a second of reminiscing to think better of it.

This boy was the reason you spent so many nights walking home alone, cursing yourself for falling for his shallow promises spoken by sugar sweet lips again and again.

"Ah, no. Thanks Johnny, but I'm not interested." It comes out dry, but you hope it gets the point across. He had missed his window of opportunity years ago.

Johnny laughs and jostles your shoulder. "Come on, lass. Just a night! Doesn't have tae mean anythin'. I've missed ye."

You hold strong to your word, as attractive as Johnny is, and always has been, you know you're better than that. "Really Johnny, I'm not in the mood."

His hand skirts up your thigh and you groan internally at his inability to take the neon-coloured hint. "I bet I can change that for ye."

Swallowing your pride, you lean into Johnny and cup a hand to whisper into his ear "I have like three STD's at the moment, dude. I don't think you wanna bump uglies with me currently."

It was a silly lie, but you knew it would be more than enough to get the message through his relatively thick skull. You were right, of course, because as you pulled back to take a look at the expression on his face, you had to fight not to burst into laughter.

Johnny looked as though he'd sucked on a lemon but was trying not to let it show. He'd pulled back from you by at least a foot as well, and kept his hands firmly clasped in his lap. "Ah," he said, and cleared his throat. "Well. Good to know."

"Yup."

Silence. You wondered how long it would take Johnny to get up and scout out a different lady, as you were sure he would after this.

As it turns out, it took a grand total of a minute and a half for him to get up, bid his adieus and walk out of the bar, promising he'd call you soon, and wishing you all the best with your... things.

You downed the rest of your drink with a wicked grin stretching across your cheeks and walked merrily home.

2. The Gradual Realisation of Self Worth.

He only comes to you when he needs you.

Only gives you affection when he knows it'll benefit him.

Leaves you cold and alone in bed.

Tells you you're beautiful, says he loves you, but only when you're actively serving him. Patching his wounds. Sending him care packages. Buying him drinks. Always giving, but never receiving.

The bed is so cold.

You curl in on yourself night after night, but you never cry. You are convinced that surely, one day he will return your affection. One day he'll prove you right and show that he has changed, has given up on his shallow promises. You ignore the voice in your head that tells you he hasn't.

You spent so long trying to fix him, put so much time into trying to make him a better person, telling him to eat better, to keep his room clean, teaching him to cook, teaching this man the bare minimum, only to get nothing in return.

He didn't love you, and at this point you weren’t even sure if you liked him. Did you like him, or did you like the comfort of having someone that could hold you, if he wanted to. There was never a guarantee.

You fixed him, but you didn't get to reap the benefits of your own hard work. You fixed him so he could go an fuck over the next person a little less.

You start rejecting his advances, ignoring his texts asking you to come over for a quick fuck. You stop sending him care packages with home made food and letters telling him about how you've been since he was home. You don't answer the door when he knocks. Quitting him cold turkey.

Eventually, he stops texting, stops calling, doesn't throw rocks at your window.

There is silence; a breath of fresh air.

You bump into him at a bar a few months later. You make polite small talk, and he flashes you that grin that pulled you in the first time, but it falls flat and slips from his face. You move away from the hand that caresses your waist.

"Let's get out of here," he bends down to whisper in your ear, "come back to mine, I've missed ye, bonnie." Johnny's hand creeps up your face, a wolf-like grin stretches and snarls across his cheeks.

Your face turns stony, ashen. "Leave me alone, John."

His grin falters at the omission of his nickname, the name you had always called him. In all your years of knowing each other, not once had you called him John.

"Bonnie," Johnny starts, concern flicking over his face. What a joke. He chooses to care now, when he's at risk of losing his quick fuck.

"Don't call me that," your voice is sharp, cutting through the pollution he's breathed on you for so long. "Do not speak to me as if you've ever given more than two shits about me, because I know for a fact the only thing you see me as is a hole to shove your dick in."

You had passed the point of mourning over what could have been, of what you wanted this 'relationship' to be. You were only capable of feeling anger and distain towards the man before you.

"Now, lass, there's no need for ye think that," Johnny rubs your arm in an attempt of comfort that came all too late. "yer more than that to me, I promise."

I promise.

I promise.

I promise.

"Fuck you and your promises, John," you spit, slapping his hand away from you, creating distance between you, because as far as you're concerned, he lost the privilege of touching you long ago. "You're always promising things, but you never mean any of it, do you?"

Johnny stays quiet, his mouth hanging ajar and his hand hovering in midair, as if he's shocked that his actions suddenly have consequences.

"I have tried for so long to continue to see the good in you, to believe that if I just tried a little harder, you'd actually want to pay attention to me, but I look back on that decision to try and I just feel so... stupid! So utterly stupid for not seeing you for what you are, John. Look I want to wish you the best in your future relationships but honestly I think I'd much prefer if you went and choked to death on a bag of dicks."

As much as you thought it would be cathartic to say even a quarter of what you felt Johnny needed to hear, it honestly wasn't. Johnny was silent as you picked up your things and left the bar. He at least had enough of a brain to not call you, but part of you wished he did. The part of you that still hoped the Johnny you grew up with was in there.

You hugged your arms to your chest and kicked the rocks on the pavement as you walked home alone. Again. You went to bed alone. Again. But it felt better.

Johnny wasn't coming back, and you were glad.

[always-together]

...Hi everyone 👋 It's been quite some time, hasn't it? Almost five months, I'm pretty sure. With things finally in a somewhat stable place, I can finally resurface here for a brief moment to let you all know what's been going on and where I've been.

Firstly and most importantly, no one has died, and nothing has happened to me. I'm alright physically and mentally! My absence has nothing to do with tragedy and everything to do with-you guessed it-college. This current semester is my last, and with that comes my senior project ("project" because I'm majoring in communications). I've chosen to do a three episode podcast, and ever since the start of the year my life has been a whirlwind of scheduling interviews, conducting interviews, editing interviews, and somehow trying to do assignments for my other classes on top of all of that. Oh, and working at a movie theater, too.

Needless to say, my schedule has been jammed in a way it hasn't been since before the pandemic. But that doesn't mean I should've gone completely radio silent with you all, and for that, I sincerely apologize. Even though I'm sure you've come to expect my sporadic activity, this still feels like a personal new low for me. If people have moved on or no longer wish to write with me, I completely understand, even though I selfishly wish we can still be friends somehow.

This actually leads me into my next topic: Where I go from here. In about a month I will be a graduated student with a goddamn Bachelor's degree, and no I have still not processed that lol-but the fact of the matter is, I will be a proper, mature adult. I have to begin my job search and start figuring out my priorities, and what hobbies I want to keep and which ones I will have to unfortunately shelve. And I will admit, a month ago in a haze of burnout and general chaos I genuinely considered giving up RPing.

But when the smoke cleared, I realized how much I would miss all of the friends I've made here. I'd miss writing my favorite characters too, sure, but mainly you all. I couldn't and would never just up and leave without a proper goodbye. There's still millions of places for our muses to go together, tons and tons of ideas to explore. This isn't a community I can just forget about. I'd never forgive myself.

It may not be until late May, but I will return, I promise. Consider everything and anything dropped, but when I come back we will start anew with new threads and memes! This isn't the end of me, not by a long shot!

Whether my activity ends up winding down in a year or several years, even I don't know. After college, anything could happen. But I do know this: Some of my best online memories have been here, writing with you all. I've been here for five years and I don't intend on going anywhere. Not just yet, anyway.

So TLDR: College has been kicking my ass but once I've graduated I'm going to make an effort to be back! All threads and asks have been dropped and deleted. I'm going to come back with an eager, fresh mind, and things are going to be fun again!

I hope you'll all join me as I venture off into the great unknown after college.

Talk to you all soon,

Mun Ruby ❤️

[svu-ncis-criminalminds]

Learning to Trust, Part 5

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 1757

Series Summary: Things with your boss were becoming complicated, but they became even more complicated when an Unsub sought you out and began targeting you. Can a relationship that hasn't even officially begun survive this?

Garcia set up a mobile system in the conference room so that she could verify and cross reference as you tried your best to piece together everything you could remember about the woman. Reid sat on one side of you, listening intently, and occasionally interrupting to ask a qualifying question. Emily was writing things on the board that stuck out more so than other details. 

Rossi was still trying to find more on Hiálmar - combing through some books that were so old their pages were yellow and crumbling. Reid would have read it faster but Rossi had a hunch. You couldn’t shake the familiarity of it still. 

“Ana was there before me,” You confirmed when Reid cut in, asking if you had gone to school together, “She was older then I was, maybe 21 or 22 when I first met her.” You could see her face like she was in the room with you now. Pale skin and bright blue eyes, long blonde hair she nearly always kept in a tight french braid. She had a strong brow and jaw. She never smiled, not with her lips, almost like such a display was beneath her. But she did smile with her eyes, and over the years you had missed that. 

“She was my friend,” Your voice was slightly strained as you spoke before you cleared it, looking away from Reid and Garcia. Your eyes landed on Aaron instead. He had been relatively quiet since you’d found Paul’s body and your last message from whoever was doing this - and it was beginning to eat at you.

Aaron met your eye and held your gaze for a moment, his eyes were slightly probing. He was checking on you. You offered him a tight smile and he nodded slightly. Much was said for two people who spoke no words. 

“Is Ana her real name?” Garcia asked, “Is there a last name?”

“Lundgren,” Your voice felt foreign on your tongue. Aaron moved around the outskirts of the room towards Rossi, glancing down at the man’s current work - attempting to give you the impression of privacy as you spilled your guts on the floor. “That’s her real name.” You knew that. 

The smell of bread filled the small studio of the cabin. You were currently assimilated into an organization that was holed up in a fishing village in the North. Ana’s gentle singing filled the room as you laid on the sofa, staring at the woodgrain of the ceiling. For a moment life was peaceful here with your friend. 

The singing quieted and Ana approached you, placing the bread on the table, already sliced and steaming, along with a small bowl of homemade butter. 

“You’re a gem,” You smiled, lazily reaching for a peace, “You love this shit don’t you?” Homesteading, as she called it. You grew up in a city, this was a new lifestyle for you. 

“I do,” Her eyes crinkled and you smiled, unable to help it. “My ma did a lot of this when I was a girl,” She told you, eyes glistening at the memory. You two had become close friends during the months you spent with the organization. Little contact was held with the rest of your team, some monitoring from afar, some elsewhere in the organization.

But that didn’t mean you talked about your families. “Sarah,” She spoke, garnering your attention again. Sarah. The name you’d given yourself when you joined the NIS - someone else entirely. “Do you ever worry?” She asked and you considered the question. Of course you worried. 

“Sure,” You agreed, biting into the bread to give yourself another moment to think, “Worry about plenty of things - are you worried?” 

“Sometimes I think,” She stopped. You knew what she was about to say. Not really - but you knew it was something you shouldn’t know - something you didn’t want to know. When joining this team you had all had to take an oath to leave your personal lives behind. You were no longer sons or daughters, friends, brothers, sisters. You were a team who was set to do a task and to do that task as efficiently as possible, there was no room for anything like that. In order to look humanity in the eye so closely - you were told to abandon your own. 

“I know,” You agreed, smiling tightly, “Me too,”

“My name is really Ana.” She looked at you, her eyes dull and watery. You didn’t like this Ana. “My last name, it’s Lundgren.” You palms felt sweaty, why was she telling you this, she shouldn’t be telling you this, “If I die you tell my ma, okay?” 

“Her mother’s name is Ulla. She’s passed but might help you track her down.” You pulled yourself from the memory, looking at Garcia who looked at you gently. “Ana is bottom of my list for suspect,” You told Garcia, like you were trying to reassure her, reassure yourself. 

“Then why are we starting with her?” Morgan asked. 

“Of those left, she probably knows me best,” You explained, “And,” you paused, “I’m worried she’s most likely to be the next target, if we can track her down, maybe…” you didn’t need to finish, he understood. Preventative. 

It was late when Garcia got a tentative contact number, half past one. She had an address as well, a family friend in Southern Pennsylvania. 

“I will call the local PD and request a wellness check,” Hotch stepped forward and you stood to meet him. 

“No, if we freak her and she goes into hiding no one will ever find her,” You assured him, “Let me try and call her first,” He looked at you seriously, and you could tell he didn’t think it was a good idea, “Please,” 

“Call. Once, if she doesn’t answer, leave a voicemail and I am calling the local PD. Then everyone,” He looked to you pointedly, “Is getting some rest.” He had his no business Hotch voice on, and a glare to match. In another world under different circumstances you’d be fawning over the handsome display, you may even argue to rile him up a bit more. But right now you were tired - emotionally - physically - and he was right. You hoped he was right. 

You dialed the number from a secure line and hit call before placing the phone to your ear and counting the rings. One. Two. Three - voicemail. 

“I’ve been sent to voicemail,” You told the room.

“Sent?” Garcia asked, typing furiously at her computer. 

“Please leave a message after the beep,” The robot told her before a ‘beep’ emitted from the phone, you were silent for a moment before you swallowed and spoke. 

“Hey,” You breathed, “It’s me, call me back at this number - please - we - Kod röd, fara sång i soldat.” Another beat of silence and you hung up before looking at Aaron, “You can call the local PD. If she listens to that message she’ll call me back - if she doesn’t.” You shrugged slightly before turning and walking from the room. Not bothering to say anything to your team as you went - though you could feel their eyes, those pitying looks - on your back as you walked towards the elevator. You hit the down button, and someone stopped beside you. You knew who it was. You waited for the elevator in silence before stepping in together - he hit the button for the floor of the parking garage and you rode the elevator together in silence. 

“I’m sorry,” Aaron finally spoke and you looked at him surprised for a moment.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You reminded him. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry it’s happening,” He reminded you, and your lips threatened to tug into a smile momentarily. 

“Thank you,” You sighed and he nodded his head, “I’m sorry,” It was his turn to look surprised.

“For what?”

“Bringing this to the team.” The elevator doors opened and you stepped out into the dark - nearly empty parking garage. 

“No,” His word was firm and final, he stopped to face you, a hand going to your elbow and squeezing. “You’re not going to blame yourself for this - not if I have anything to do about it.” You stood there for a moment before your eyes began to burn. 

“It is my fault,” You told him, almost feeling an anger bubbling within you, what did he know? He didn’t know what you saw, what you did, what your nightmares replayed over and over, “These people - for years Aaron they were my world for good or bad.” He looked sad, his hand tightening on your arm and tugging you slightly closer as a stray tear threatened to escape. 

“You were a child who was recruited into a government organization, you were used.” His words feld sharp and you flitched. Aaron saw and the fact that anyone - at any moment could come down that elevator and stumble upon the pair - didn’t matter anymore. The man pulled you forward fully, guiding you into a hug, wrapping firm arms around you and holding you tightly to his chest. You broke. The tears fell forward dampening his dress shirt as you sobbed into his chest. Sobbed hard. Sobbed for your childhood, sobbed for the girl you were, sobbed for the years you lost. Sobbed for you now - having to deal with this all again. And when you had no more tears left you hiccupped into the man’s chest - catching your breath. 

The whole time Aaron had stood firm and strong and held you in his arms allowing you to get it all out. He had one arm wrapped tightly around you, keeping you to him, and the other hand rubbed reassuring circles in your back the entire time, even as you calmed yourself down. 

But now you didn’t move to step back. You smelled his cologne, masking his sweat and the scent of coffee. Now you were embarrassed. For breaking down so dramatically and in front of Aaron Hotchner nonetheless. If you stepped back now, you’d have to face him. 

“Are you alright,” He whispered and his chest rumbled in front of you. 

“Yes,” You whispered, finally pulled back from him, but his arm remained around you, not letting you go far, “No, well, better.” You laughed, “Sorry, thank you I needed that.” He smiled gently and nodded.

“Never apologize to me for crying, alright? You’re allowed to.” You nodded. You believed him - for the first time someone had given you permission to feel vulnerable around them, and you believed him.

Tag List

@ivebeenthearchersstuff, @emalynvtgtgfhvgg , @flashyflash23-blog

[hischierlovebot]

11, 12 and 17 for the fic writer asks <3

Hello my friend <333

fic writer asks

11. a WIP you’d like to finish someday

Oh there are so many. Right now, that's fake hanahaki, although that one should be getting finished soonish, because I'm 30k deep already and we will come out victorious. other fics that have been on the backburner for a while now are the auswilly fake dating, and the werewolves with no werewolves fic, which has been haunting me for around 2 years? And I hope I can get to those this year!

12. a trope you’re really into right now

Well I recently finished my leverage rewatch so I'm very into heists and cons but tbf most of my free time (dead hours at work) is spent fighting fake hanahaki so there hasn't been that much reading from me! I am, however, itching for the kind of fic that you finish and leaves you feeling hollow because of how good it was so if you have any recs, I'll take them <33

17. talk about your writing and editing process

Man this will be very long and also maybe a bit confusing. I'll post under the cut.

The most important part to understand about my process is that there's no editing. There is a final revision, where I go over the text to polish it and catch stray typos, but I don't really write in drafts: what you get posted to ao3 is what the fic has looked like, most of the time.

So, my process goes a little like this: I get an idea, I write down the scene that comes to mind (most of the times with the longer fics, we're not talking about a fleshed out idea, just a scene that I build the rest of the story around. In soulmates, for example, my goal was to tackle my issues with the concept as a whole, and in fake hanahaki, there's a scene that encapsulates this very well, but that I still can't share for obvious reasons), and then the rest of the story is built around it.

If it's a long fic, or a more complex one, say soulmates or hanahaki, to name hrpf examples, then I need to figure out the plot before I write it. It's something that only really happens with these fics because I can't write if I'm not satisfied with what I've written before.

I think of it as building blocks. I need to have a solid foundation to build on, because if it's wobbly, then I keep worrying it's going to bring down the rest of the structure, and there's nothing I hate more than spending hours on a thing, only for it to be absolutely pointless. Sometimes I get stuck with the base and I can't continue until i figure it out, but I can focus on other stuff, that helps me see the whole picture a little clearer. It's why I tend to write out of order, and, afterwards, I take all the pieces and line them up until they make sense. Currently, fake hanahaki is 60 pages long, and there's only like 45% in order. The rest are disconnected scenes that would probably confuse the fuck out of a reader, and that I have to line up to figure out what's still missing.

Once that's done, then the fic is pretty much done. Because I can't write if I'm not satisfied with the build up of a scene, I've gone over them a bunch of times, so there's no need for further rewrites. They were done as the scene was written. What it needs is a final revision to catch any typos, and then it's ready to go out.

If you're wondering, yes, this means that I rarely if at all use beta readers, also because I worry about annoying them with how much I write and switch wips and fandoms lol there are no deleted scenes either because if they weren't going to make it then they never got written and if they were on the page then I just have to figure out where they go. Is this method of mine the most efficient? Probably not, but it's what works with me and I don't think my works turn out that bad so I'm going to stick with it.

And I think that was it lol sorry for how lengthy this was, and let me know if there's anything that wasn't clear!