#i hope one day while scrolling through pinterest I find these as a cover for someone’s wattpad meme book

[raddestrose]

Made MDZS memes,

please enjoy

[blog-o-meter]

Room 5 - Nicholas Alexander Chavez x fem!reader

summary: (Y/N) escapes to a quaint little hotel by the beach for a few days. On the first night, she realizes that the hot guy in the neighboring room is a... loud guy, and she finds that she can't seem to escape him no matter where she goes.

warnings: 18+, voyeurism (auditory), self-masturbation, fingering, unprotected p in v, cursing

required listening: 24 Hours by Sky Ferreira

word count: 17,415

a/n: sorry this one is so long (compared to my other fics), but I just had too much fun writing this one. I honestly could've gone writing more. If anything, I can just add on, but I think I wrapped a nice, little bow on this one. I hope you guys like it, and I would appreciate any and all feedback!! pls enjoy :) edit: I continued the story in a sequel of sorts, which you can check out below!

Making Room (Part 2) | Room On Fire (Part 3) | Room To Breathe (Part 4)

reblogs and likes are appreciated and lets me know if you'd like to see more!

The boutique hotel looked absolutely adorable, white brick on the outside and only two stories — a tiny café and gift shop downstairs and the rooms up top, just steps away from the ocean. It sat between two tall condo buildings, which mostly housed an older crowd of out-of-state tourists.

I was in search of the perfect place for a weekend getaway, and this place seemed to check all the boxes. It wasn’t near any of the busy beach accesses where all of the rowdy high schoolers seemed to hang out at, and the pictures of the café seemed like it was straight out of an interior designer’s Pinterest board. This place, The Pearl, seemed perfect.

Actually, I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long while, having booked this trip about a month ago. Funnily enough, I lived just 30 minutes away from the beach but never had the time to just get away for a couple of days — until now.

After I checked in, I carried my weekend bag and backpack up the narrow staircase to the second floor, the wood creaking underneath my sandals. When I turned on the mid-level landing, that’s when I heard a second set of footsteps coming down from above. I turned my head up, my eyes falling on the drop-dead gorgeous man carefully shuffling down the steps.

Our shoulders brushed as I squeezed by with my luggage, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver that branched out from where our arms grazed.

“Sorry,” I whispered without missing a beat.

The guy smiled politely as he turned his head back, his big, brown eyes inviting, “You’re good.”

My heart skipped a beat hearing his warm, low voice. The stranger was ridiculously attractive, his muscles bulging out of the wife beater covering his torso, his tousled brown hair elegantly falling over his eyebrows. His smile, though, was what made my skin prickle — a wide, genuine grin that showed off his perfectly white teeth behind his pink lips.

I returned a polite smile, continuing my journey up the stairs before he could notice my blushing cheeks. When I arrived to the top of the landing, I saw that the second floor was T-shaped, the rooms in ascending order the further I walked down the hallway.

I turned the corner, immediately sensing the change in atmosphere compared to the row of rooms I had just passed. This section of the hallway seemed much more secluded, quiet, possibly because, indeed, it was in its own corner of the floor away from all the other rooms.

I passed by the one other door in the hall, reaching my room — 6 — at the end where a singular window accented the softly-lit hallway. Setting my bags down, I fumbled for my phone, scrolling through my text messages with the hotel manager for the code to my door. I appreciated the fact that the rooms had a code to enter instead of a plastic key card that I could lose in the sand.

As I input the code into the lock, the wooden staircases creaked as a set of footsteps became louder and louder making their way toward me. It was the same handsome man I had brushed shoulders with earlier, a backpack slung over his shoulder as he approached the only other door, room 5.

Our eyes met briefly, a flicker of recognition in his. “Good night, neighbor,” he said with a slight nod, that same smile that made my chest warm flashing across his face as he made his way inside his room, the heavy door falling closed behind him.

I let go of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. What are the odds the hot guy and I were staying next to each other? 1 in 5 it seems.

Shaking off the butterflies fluttering around my stomach, I finished inputting the code and dragging my bags inside the freezing room, stopping to admire the details of what my hard-earned paycheck had managed to spoil me with. The room was quaint, a neutral island color palette — the large bathroom and queen-sized bed to my right and the 70” flatscreen tv and closet on the shared wall to my left, a built-in marble counter all along the bottom.

The bathroom was my favorite: an art-deco flair with hints of coastal influence. The full shower was astounding in the best way possible — a beautiful mosaic pattern along the whole wall, double shower heads on opposite ends, and with enough space to possibly fit maybe 5 people. I could literally walk about ten steps between the two shower heads.

I walked back out to the room, setting my bags on the counter and starting to unpack, not in any particular rush to venture outside. As I organized my stuff — bikinis, pajamas, toiletries — I turned on the tv, flipping through channels and settling on HBO, Black Swan playing a few minutes in.

Enthralled by the movie and remembering I had a few snacks in my backpack, I changed into my pajamas and dug out a box of Lady Godiva chocolates from my backpack, climbing into bed and stretching out my arms and legs, excited to start my weekend getaway.

At some point, I had drifted off with a chocolate in my hand only to be awoken by a sound. I didn’t know what it was at first, choosing to ignore it and keeping my eyes closed, hoping I’d drift back to sleep. But it persisted, and it wasn’t a sound I had expected to hear — a woman’s moans.

My eyes fluttered open, thinking it might’ve been coming from the tv. After all, Black Swan did have a sex scene. However, I found the tv to be off. Maybe I had forgotten I turned it off myself before drifting off to sleep. Then, a low, drawn-out groan rumbled through, clear as day.

Oh.

Oh.

My cheeks flushed, burning at the realization of what I was hearing. I mean, I know a boutique hotel might not have the same amenities as a more established hotel chain, but you’d think thicker walls would have been a forethought. How could somebody planning to open a hotel not have thicker walls?

Again, I heard the moaning, and there was only one other room in the hallway that they could be coming from — room 5, the hot guy. I sat up in bed, heart pounding as I processed what was happening in the room behind the tv. The sounds were so clear you’d think they were having sex in the hallway.

In fact, I thought just that. There was no way that was happening right? I walked up to my room door and carefully peeked my head out, finding the hallway empty.

I retreated back into my room, my heart racing. Any other person would’ve probably turned the tv back on, or put on some headphones, something to block out the sounds, but what I did, I couldn’t tell anyone else about. I stood frozen, listening. I listened past the rhythmic porn-like moaning of the faceless woman, instead focusing on the low rumble of the hot neighbor guy’s voice.

The closet that shared a wall with his room beckoned my name, tempting me to inch closer. Before I knew it, my bare feet were shuffling toward the closet door, quietly swinging it open. The space was small, just big enough to fit a luggage rack and a few hangers up top, but the rhythmic thumping and guttural groans just behind the plaster called out to me.

Carefully, I leaned over the luggage rack, pressing my cheek against the cold, white wall. Every sound was clearer now — the creak of the bed slowing to a stop, the huffing coming from my neighbor, and the yelps coming from the mysterious lady. I could even make out some words.

“Bend over,” my neighbor spoke, his voice deep and seductive.

My stomach twisted hearing him speak in such a commanding yet intimate manner. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that a stranger so polite in passing could be so primal behind closed doors; though, wasn’t everyone?

“You’re so huge, Nicholas,” the mystery lady spoke back.

I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but I was just so enthralled. Did they know just how thin the walls are, assuming they’d block out most sound like I did? I couldn’t imagine someone knowing the walls were thin and still choosing to have sex, especially knowing there was an occupied room next door.

The plaster was cool under my cheek, refreshingly so as I could feel myself becoming warmer and warmer. The sounds of their erotic encounter seemed to vibrate through the wall, through me. Without noticing, I had squeezed my thighs together, my hand finding its way at the band of my pajama pants. As soon as I felt my fingertip slip under my underwear, I was jolted out of my trance. What was I doing?

Before I could feel any more guilty for lingering longer than I should’ve, I pulled myself away from the wall and scampered back toward the bed, choosing to ignore what was going beyond next door, my heart racing. Grabbing my headphones from my nightstand and slipping them on, I threw myself into the sheets and turned on my white noise playlist. But as much as I forced myself to focus on the therapeutic noise, my imagination wandered, picturing the faces my neighbor — Nicholas — might be making right now as he pleasured the woman accompanying him. Before I knew it, though, I had managed to fall asleep.

In the morning, I made my way down the staircase to the hotel’s tiny café, eager to start my day with a light, sweet breakfast. As I descended down the last few steps, I looked over to the sea of tables, hesitation in my heels as my eyes landed on Nicholas sitting by his lonesome as he enjoyed a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and a beat-up book in the other.

Swallowing the thought of what I did, and listened to, last night, I walked past him and approached the café counter, the smell of warm croissants and muffins enveloping my nostrils, a temporary distraction that I was grateful to experience.

“Hi,” I politely smiled to the employee, “Can I just get an Italian crème croissant with a hot green tea, please?” I quietly asked, not wanting to interrupt the quiet, calm atmosphere for the patrons of the café. 

The barista nodded her head, inputting my order into the tablet register, “We’ll send it over to your table,” she smiled.

I slipped her the money for my breakfast, smiling, “Thank you so much,” and making my way through the slew of empty tables.

I settled in at the corner table on the opposite end of the room, wanting to be as far away from Nicholas as possible to avoid any awkward conversations. Though, I may have chosen the worst table for my plan, accidentally giving myself a clear, unobstructed view of Nicholas from across the room.

His hair was damp, not purposefully styled in any particular way but still somehow falling over his eyebrows in such a perfect manner. He wore a loose flannel with a few buttons loose, the shirt billowing open to tease just enough of the gold cross chain draping over the sculpted valley between his chest.

He hadn’t noticed me yet, completely enthralled by what he was reading — Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I was stunned by his choice of literature. There was an old fellow a few tables down reading the newspaper to get his local news, meanwhile this guy, Nicholas, was probably on some page where the author is describing, in excruciating honesty, a night he had with a prostitute just as easily as one could describe their morning routine. In a way, I was impressed, curious.

As I waited for my breakfast, fiddling with my fingers, occasionally looking at my phone, my eyes would glance over toward Nicholas, my gaze lingering just a beat too long. The way he achingly turned the page, the tip of his finger playing at the corner of the paper, or the way he’d carefully bring the mug of coffee up to his lips — it was all so titillating.

Thankfully, though, the barista came over with a small pot of piping hot tea and my croissant, interrupting my trance and carefully setting down the items in front of me. Just as she left, my eyes flickered up to Nicholas to find that he had glanced up from his book, a polite smirk at the corner of his lips when his eyes met mine, lifting his mug in a silent, “Cheers.”

Not sure if I should wave or say hi or flash a toothy smile, I settled for a polite closed-mouth smile, lifting my mug back at him before quickly focusing my attention to the food in front of me as my cheeks grew warm. The greeting wasn’t graceful at all, but how could I focus on being graceful knowing I eavesdropped on his privacy just last night? If I was awkward at all, I figured it was my subconscious trying to punish me.

I served myself some tea and picked at my croissant as I looked out the window to the occasional family or couple walking down the street, all carrying their beach items and taking their time to get to the sand. I’d even glance around to the other patrons at the café. Though, I think part of me wanted to see if any of the girls would join Nicholas at his table and reveal herself to be the high-pitched moaner from last night. However, nobody ever did join him. Was he here alone? Or maybe she had taken the morning to be by herself.

Every impulse in me was begging me to take just one more look at Nicholas, to savor his image one last time, but I fought it. Everything except anything in Nicholas’s direction became intriguing to me. The checkered tile on the ground, the promotional poster on the window that I could barely read because of the sunshine striking through it, the older fellow enjoying his newspaper — I didn’t think I’d find myself focusing on the details of such things trying to avoid the gaze of some guy I had talked to for no more than 10 seconds, maybe less.

When I finished up, I quietly tidied the table, collecting all of the dishes and brushing off any crumbs, making my way out of the café and toward my car.

The breeze was refreshing, a nice whisper against my cheeks. I opened the trunk, staring at all of the beach gear I had to carry by myself. It was a struggle, but I managed to carry everything in both my arms — umbrella, picnic, basket, beach chair, headphones, blanket — using every crevice of my upper body to anchor something to me so it wouldn’t fall on the way over.

Thankfully, the beach access was right next to the hotel, and the path to the open sand wasn’t too long. When I got to the end of the path, I was grateful for having woken up early for the opportunity to pick a spot in an otherwise empty beach, a few umbrellas and chairs here and there from the condo occupants. I chose a spot that didn’t have any people too close by for maximum relaxation, carefully setting everything down on the sand.

I stabbed my pink, frilly cabana umbrella into the ground, laying out my beach blanket and beach chair in the shade, sliding everything else onto the corners of the blanket so the breeze wouldn’t pick the fabric up and blow sand toward me.

The water was calling my name, the light green water perfectly sparkling against the morning sun. But before I could strip my clothes off and jump in, I looked around to see if anybody would be looking as I pulled off my clothes. I didn’t see anybody particularly interested in my arrival, so I quickly pulled off my jean shorts and tee to reveal my glittery brown bikini set underneath. Before I became too hyper aware of my body, I walked toward the water, instead letting the feeling wash over me just as the waves of deliciously cold seawater did.

The occasional squawk of seagulls, the sun warming up my skin as it rose higher and higher in the sky and the sound of the waves crashing was all perfect. This moment was all I wanted out of this weekend. No distractions, no work — just me and the ocean. Needless to say, I was very excited to be able to repeat this routine for the next couple of days. 

I continued walking into the water until I was chest-deep to let the ocean devour me whole. The feeling that a wave could crash over me entirely was exhilarating. The water slowly picked me up by my feet as I hopped around.

I lingered for a few more minutes in the water, splashing water around or searching for little fish before stepping back out once my fingers started to wrinkle. As I strutted out of the water, though, I saw the familiar shape of somebody relaxing in a chair just a few feet next to my umbrella — Nicholas.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, he was a guest in the hotel, too, after all. Why else would someone book a room in a hotel by the beach if they wouldn’t find themselves relaxing in the sand? But did he have to set up next to me when there was an entire football field of available space?

Meekly and careful not to trip or stumble on the way over, I walked toward my umbrella, fighting the urge to steal a glance at Nicholas, but from the corner of my eye I could see he sat there with his chest exposed. I had to let myself give in; what was the harm in a little peek?

He sat reclined in his chair, his skin deliciously glistening under the killer sun as he took it in. His hair was lightly brushing across his face from the sea breeze, like Mother Nature herself was playing with his hair. Nicholas’s long legs stretched out in front of him, his feet digging slightly into the sand. Both hands rested lazily on the arm of the chair, open. It was like he wanted to take up as much space as he could. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes; I couldn’t tell where he was looking or if he was looking anywhere at all. He radiated a kind of tranquility, as if the ocean had washed away any burdens he carried, something I hoped to experience myself this weekend.

I realized I was staring, my breath caught somewhere between awe and curiosity. I darted my eyes away, afraid I might be caught, which is absolutely the last thing I want.

Growing cold from the breeze brushing my wet skin, I grabbed my towel, drying myself off and squeezing the water out of my hair, mindful of turning myself from Nicholas so as to not flick any water droplets his way or have him think I was trying to grab his attention deliberately. Maybe he just sat there without knowing he had set up next to me. After all, I was in the water this entire time.

As I settled in, I brushed my wet hair over the back of my chair and reached for my picnic basket, pulling out my headphones, sunglasses, and my current read, White Oleander. I didn’t want to distract myself with any energetic music, instead opting to listen to the White Oleander movie soundtrack for the perfect accompaniment to the book.

I read through the chapter I had left off in, but I found myself having to reread some paragraphs, even entire pages, every time I saw Nicholas shift in his seat from the corner of my eye every few seconds. Even the way he jittered his knee up and down was distracting, almost like he wanted to grab my attention. After some minutes, he stood up from his chair, letting out a groan as he slowly stretched his arms and walked toward the water, and I silently thanked the universe for finally letting me have a few minutes to myself.

Though, I couldn’t help but occasionally glance up from my book to observe Nicholas in the water. The sun accentuated his muscles in an almost picturesque way, the stark shadow falling under each crevice of his body perfectly. He cut through the water like a knife as he walked deeper and deeper in the water, splashing water over his chest and shoulders, eventually dipping himself under the water to wet his hair. When he reemerged, the surface broke with a powerful splash, Nicholas throwing his head back and brushing his hair back with his hands.

Shaking myself out of Nicholas’s trance, I buried myself back in my book, trying not to look back up to him and letting myself get lost in the story, and for a while, I did. However, the universe seemed to like playing cruel jokes. About two chapters later, a shadow crossed my face. Curious to know if it was a bird or somebody’s umbrella flying away, I looked up to find Nicholas standing in front of me with a small grin.

“Good book?” He asked, drying his hair with a towel.

Shocked, I almost couldn’t form any words, but I managed to spit out a normal-sounding sentence, “Uh, so far, yeah, but I’m more familiar with the movie.”

“I’ve never seen it,” he confessed, dragging the towel up and down his dripping torso, almost deliberately. “Do you recommend it?”

I was quiet first, trying to clear my head of any thoughts of the night before that kept replaying in my mind. My eyes drifted up from his torso to the smile on his face, his straight white teeth in full show. Thank god I had my sunglasses on

“Totally. The dialogue in that movie is…” I trilled my lips, searching for the right word, “poignant.”

“Sounds raw,” he threw the towel over his shoulder, resting his hands on his hips, his lat muscles flexing outward like wings. “Is it your favorite movie?” He asked as he sat down in his chair, shifting until he found a comfortable position.

“One of,” I replied, turning my head to face him.

“I’ll check it out then,” he smiled, grabbing Tropic of Cancer out from under his chair and spreading it open.

“There’s a movie on that one, too,” I pointed to the book in his hands.

“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking at the cover of the paperback, like he had forgotten what book he was reading. But then, a cheeky grin grew on his lips, “Did you like it?”

I couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, knowing what Nicholas had meant. “I wouldn’t know; I’ve never seen it,” I smiled, turning my head back to the book in my hands, having almost forgotten about it.

All I heard back from him was a quiet chuckle before he settled back into his chair, the both of us reading their respective books.

After a half hour, I tossed the book and my sunglasses back into the basket and walked out over to the water. I paused at the dry edge of the sand, letting the water nip at my toes, trying not to picture Nicholas behind me. He could have been glancing at me as I made my way over, but he could also be looking at the sky, or the book in his hands, or maybe even his phone. As much as I wanted to peek over my shoulder, I continued forward, letting the sea swallow me.

I lingered, brushing my fingertips over the surface as I planted myself in knee-deep water, clutching the sand underneath my toes as it dissolved under me. As the water hugged my calves, I searched the water for anything I could find — maybe a lost pair of sunglasses, some little fishes, or maybe a conch laying at the bottom of the ocean floor. To no avail, I slowly started to retreat from the water, picking my head up to find Nicholas was looking forward, hiding behind his sunglasses again.

I didn’t let the fact he was looking over to my direction affect my ability to walk properly. After all, he could be looking past me. Maybe under those sunglasses he had his eyes closed. I wouldn’t know. However plausible any of those situations were, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Upon approaching my chair, I wrapped myself in the damp towel, deciding that my time at the beach for today would be over for now. Slowly, I started to pack up my things, but I honestly didn’t know how I was gonna carry everything back now that I was damp and shivering. I tried juggling some of the things in my arms, but occasionally something would slip from my grasp. I really tried not to seem so helpless, but when the umbrella slipped out from under my arms with a loud thump, I knew keeping up that ruse wouldn’t work.

“Need help?” I heard Nicholas’s voice behind me.

I turned around, catching him push his sunglasses to the top of his head to show off his crinkled eyes, smiling. It seemed to be more from amusement at watching me struggle, not smiling from politeness.

I struggled to hold onto everything in my arms, “No,” I shook my head, laughing nervously. “I mean, I managed to bring everything over in the morning.”

An exhale escaped his lips before he tossed the book to the sand and stood up from his chair, making his way over with a satisfied look, “Let me help.”

I bit my lip, debating if I should let him help or to just push him away so I wouldn’t have that constant reminder of hearing him have sex in my head. Before I could answer, though, Nicholas grabbed the beach chair out from under my arm and picked the umbrella up off the floor.

“Thank you,” I mumbled as I adjusted the remaining items in my arms, now much more manageable without having to carry the bigger things.

“No problem,” he spoke in a low tone, that same tone I overheard when he said ‘Bend over’ to the woman in his bed last night.

My breath caught in my throat. Suddenly, I felt inexplicably warm, like the back of my neck was on fire. His expression was soft, casual, like the same man I had run into in the hallway yesterday, not at all like the man I heard in his room in a false sense of privacy.

We walked back toward the hotel, the sand kicking up behind us with every step. I was too afraid to say anything to him at all after remembering the way he spoke to his late night companion.

“So, are you from around here?” He spoke up, his voice cutting the tension that only I seemed to be aware of.

“Kind of,” I replied, hiding my face behind my damp hair, “I live 30 minutes out. I just came here on a solo-trip for a few days to escape. You?” I didn’t expect the question to slip from my lips, but in a way, I guess, I wanted to coax information out of him. Maybe if I knew more about him, that pang of guilt in my stomach would leave on its own.

He stifled a chuckle, “Not at all. I’m from Colorado, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised at the answer, “Wouldn’t California beaches be closer to you, maybe even look better than this old shore?” I looked back out into the beach, admiring its charm, but even then, I know it wouldn’t compare to a California beach.

“Actually, I live in LA, so I go out there all the time. I guess, I just wanted to visit a different place,” he answered.

I was surprised at his honesty, but I scoffed, not believing that any person from out of town would want to come here willingly, “Well, you picked a different place, indeed. Not much goes on around here, except when it’s spring break.”

Nicholas stifled a warm chuckle, “Yeah, I think I read that online.”

A part of me wanted to prod. Was he single? Who was that girl from last night? Another guest? The only appropriate question that I could think of that didn’t sound too suspicious was, “Are you here on a solo-trip, too?”

He nodded his head, “Yeah, I do a lot of solo travel. There’s a certain freedom in not having to worry about anyone else except yourself.”

I glanced over to him and saw a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he looked over to me. Something fluttered in my chest, or maybe it was just the droplets of water trailing down from my head.

“Sounds liberating,” I managed to spurt out before the long pause became too awkward.

“It is, but sometimes it’s nice to share it with someone else, even for a little bit,” he said, his words hanging in the air.

I didn’t dare reply. I wasn’t sure if he was alluding to our current moment or maybe to the similar encounters of last night he has with women during his trips. Of course, there’s no way he’d know that I knew what he did behind closed doors, but what if he did?

“Yeah,” I absentmindedly agreed to his statement, eager to cut the conversation short.

We arrived at my car. I opened the trunk with my keys that were in my picnic basket, watching as Nicholas bent over to place the umbrella and chair inside, then grabbing everything from my arms and setting them beside each other, closing the trunk.

“My name’s Nicholas,” he held his hand out for me to shake.

That’s when I realized that he had never introduced himself. The only reason I knew his name was because I had my ear pressed against the wall just as his lady friend from last night had moaned it out of her lips.

I hesitated for just a fraction of a second before breaking through that one-sided tension and reaching out to shake his hand, his warm palm sending a shiver up my arm, “(Y/N),” I introduced myself, meeting his gaze for a second or two before looking down at my feet.

“Pretty name,” he smiled.

Blushing, I shyly said, “Thanks,” retreating my hand from his grasp and whipping back a strand of wet hair behind me.

Nicholas lingered a moment longer, the soft curve of his smile inviting me to hold his gaze. “Any chance you’d wanna get a drink later?”

I blinked, my mind scrambling for a response as the question hung between us. This stranger, Nicholas, was never meant to be more than just some nameless blur that happened to also be a guest at the same hotel I was staying. We were only supposed to bump into each other a few times in the hallway, never going into conversation and being fine with that. Now, here he was, asking me if I wanted to have a drink with him.

I kicked my feet nervously, looking down, afraid to look him in the eye as I turned down his offer, “Actually, I have plans.”

His brow lifted slightly, an amused look on his face. “Solo plans?” he asked, clearly poking fun at my earlier words.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, despite my nerves. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone casual but with a glimmer of understanding. “But if you change your mind…” he leaned in the tiniest bit, some tiny droplets from his hair dripping onto my skin, “you know where I’m staying,” a mischievous smirk at the end of his lips.

I felt my stomach jump at his words, catching the double meaning. He lingered a bit too long, like he was testing me, before he pulled back, still smirking.

I nodded, “Yeah, I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

I watched as he walked past, sauntering back toward the beach. The way his shoulders shifted as he walked, relaxed yet deliberate, made it impossible to look away. The nerve of him, the audacity to be this calm, this magnetic. Maybe it’s because I’m never forward with people I just met, especially if I think they’re attractive, but I couldn’t wrap my head around the swagger Nicholas oozed. It was like he was aware of the effect he had on me.

Desperate to wash away the sand in my crevices, I trotted toward the hotel entrance, going up the stairway and to my room. I felt relief when the cold air of the room hit my face, pulling my hair away from the back of my neck so the air could creep its way and bring some relief to my flustered self. My head buzzed, replaying anything having to do with Nicholas — the way he dried his towel in front of me, his soft chuckles, even the way he walked.

Get it together, (Y/N). He’s just a guy. Just a guy you won’t see ever again after this weekend. Ever.

I sighed, dragging myself to the shower and stripping the wet bikini off my body and letting it fall to the floor without a second thought.

I was grateful the shower was huge, that way I didn’t feel as suffocated with the warm water steaming up the glass. However, each time I closed my eyes to let the water fall on my face, all I could picture was Nicholas’s charming smile, all I could hear in my head was the way he said ‘Bend over’ to the girl in his bed last night, and suddenly, I could feel a tension pool low in my belly.

Fed up, I turned the faucet knob to cold, shuddering and gasping loudly the moment it fell down my spine. It might’ve been drastic, but it did help. All I could focus on was trying not to tremble under the cold stream of water enveloping me instead of focusing on a certain man.

Once I was done with my shower, I wrapped my hair and body in a towel each, padding out into the cold room, my ankles shuddering at the cold floor beneath me. I changed into a casual set of clothes, thinking I’d probably go out for a walk later. As I dried my hair with the towel, I made my way over to the window, looking out toward the beach to see Nicholas still lounging out in the sand. He was splayed out on the chair, legs wide open as he leaned back and looked out into the water.

Tired of my mind drifting to him, I jumped into bed and put on my headphones, opening up Hulu to catch up on shows. Before I knew it, hours had gone by and it had become nightfall.

I walked to my luggage resting on the built-in counter, zipping it open to pull out a bag of chips I had bought before arriving. That’s when I heard a light knock on my door. I froze at the sound, too scared to shuffle over and check who it was.

“(Y/N), you there?” I heard Nicholas’s voice call out. I didn’t answer, standing still, my heart almost pounding out of my chest. “If you are, I’m heading over to the bar across the street, if you wanna join me,” he calmly spoke through the door, his voice cool and collected.

After a bit, I heard his feet shuffle away, becoming fainter and fainter. I still didn’t dare move an inch, paranoid he might’ve pulled a fake-out and is actually still standing outside my door. I sat on the counter, debating his invitation, but I decided against it. I’m not exactly sure why; any other girl would already have been out the door by now. I just had to trust my gut on this.

Later that night, at about 1:30AM, I found myself still awake, quietly scrolling Instagram on my phone. That’s when I heard the loud giggles of a woman outside in the hall, followed by a deep shush, the giggles falling to a quiet mumble as I heard a door open and quickly fall closed. I ignored the sounds, continuing to scroll and catch up on posts I missed during the day.

Some minutes pass by, about 10. That’s when I heard the bed on the other side begin to thump against the wall, a lady slowly starting to moan. The moans sounded different, belonging to another woman. Then, the all-too-familiar grunts coming from Nicholas started to join in.

I couldn’t reach for my headphones to drown out the sounds of sex coming from the other side; my headphones had died just 30 minutes earlier, now charging on the outlet above the counter. Tossing and turning in bed, I burrowed myself under the covers, hoping it would make some barrier, but to no avail.

Irritated, I walked over to the counter, checking to see if my headphones had any juice that I could use even for just a few minutes until I fell asleep. Just as I reached to disconnect them from their charger, that’s when I heard Nicholas’s voice rumble through the wall.

“You’re so hot,” he said, his tone thick with pleasure.

I stood there frozen, my hand still hovering over my headphones. The more I heard Nicholas speak, the more I found myself inching closer toward the closet. My heart was racing, beating faster the moment I opened the closet doors, carefully stepping inside and resting my cheek against the shared wall.

I knew I shouldn’t have been listening in, again, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was this urge that I had to follow through with. I closed my eyes for a moment, listening past the girly moans and searching for Nicholas’s voice. My chest grew tighter, my thoughts beginning to spiral.

“Just like that,” he growled.

Had I said yes to drinks, would that have been me in there? Would I be the one moaning under him instead of the mystery girl inside? My stomach tightened at the thought, frustrated. I’m not sure why I was letting it get to me like that. Maybe because hindsight is always twenty-twenty. But just knowing that it might’ve been me Nicholas said all those things to had I just agreed to drinks… It drove me crazy.

“Say my name.”

My body tensed at his words. Somewhere between spiraling and intrigued by the events happening on the other side, I had closed my eyes, achingly moving my hand to my shorts, slipping it under the waistband. What if I just pretended it was me he was saying all those things to?

I clenched my teeth, feeling a heat bubbling low in my belly as it slowly rose up to my chest. The sound of Nicholas’s voice; he sounded so close yet we were separated by this thin wall. It was maddening. I slipped my fingers under my underwear, grazing them over my damp self. I covered my mouth with my other hand, proactive about not wanting to be heard from the other side just as I heard them.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Nicholas groaned on the other side.

My breathing became deep, my nostrils pushing out all the air that couldn’t leave my mouth. As my fingers found my throbbing bud, I quietly whimpered out, pretending Nicholas was saying those words to me. I rubbed myself in small circles, bucking my hips into my fingers.

On the opposite side of the wall, Nicholas’s groaning had become guttural, primal. The more the headboard thumped against the shared wall, the more powerful his movements had become. At one point, I thought something might fall off the wall from my side of the room.

As I slipped a finger, then another, inside myself, my breathing became erratic. I imagined Nicholas taking me, right now as I am, hard at the thought that I had been listening in on his sexual escapades. Maybe he’d push me up against the wall, cornering me so that I might not escape him. He seems like the type to want to be in control, and I’d be happy to give it to him.

I pumped my fingers slowly, at first, but then picked up the speed to match the thumping on the wall. The tension in me began to build tighter and tighter. I was so close to collapsing in pleasure, but the moment I heard a loud moan escape the woman’s lips from the other side, I was taken out of my imagination completely, remembering that it wasn’t me he was having sex with.

My eyes ripped open, realizing what I had been doing. I pulled my fingers out and collected myself, shamefully walking out of the closet and reaching for the headphones on the counter. I couldn’t believe that I had been pleasuring myself to the sounds of somebody else having sex. Even more embarrassingly so, I didn’t even arrive to a climax, so I couldn’t even say it was worth it.

I climbed back into bed, trying hard to ignore the sounds coming from the other side and slipping on my headphones, putting on anything that would distract my mind.

The next day, I didn’t wake up as early as I had liked. I ended up falling asleep pretty late, almost 2:30 in the morning, which was not my usual bedtime, clearly. But it was 12PM, still enough time to enjoy a light brunch before officially starting the day.

I changed into some loose clothes, making my way down to the café. Even though I felt guilty about last night, I felt ok enough to confidently walk into the café knowing Nicholas wouldn’t be there. Either he’d be too tired from his late night drinking and stayed in, or he would’ve started his day earlier and already had his coffee for the day. And when I entered the area, I found myself to be correct. He wasn’t there.

Comfortably, I ordered the same meal from yesterday, a croissant and a pot of tea, taking my seat at the same table. What can I say, I’m a creature of habit. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Almost as soon as I sat down, the barista came over with my things, setting them down with a polite smile. Tired and hungry, I pulled a chunk out of the croissant and placed it into my mouth, savoring its sweet taste. I enjoyed my first meal of the day calmly and slowly, relaxed to know I wouldn’t bump into Nicholas right now. Maybe I’d have a few hours to myself before I did. But of course, my peace was short-lived.

As I picked at my food, the front door to the hotel chimed. I was too focused on pouring myself the last few ounces of tea into my mug to look up, but I didn’t have to. A familiar presence approached my table, “Mind if I join you?” Nicholas asked.

I looked up, my eyes locking onto his. He had that oh-so charming smile plastered on his face — innocent, as if he wasn’t the one partially responsible for keeping me up late.

“Sure,” I said, pulling the pot away from my mug.

He pulled up a chair from the neighboring table, sitting down across from me while his gaze flickered down at my half-eaten croissant. “You like taking your time, don’t you?”

I felt a rush of heat creeping up the back of my neck at his casual teasing. He was wearing a faded tee, not from age but one that looked like it had been drying out in the sun too long, his gold cross chain hidden under the collar. I’m sure he looked good in anything he wore.

“Don’t you?” I asked without missing a beat.

Nicholas stifled a smirk, tapping his finger against the table, “So what’d you do last night?”

I almost choked on my own spit at the question, clearing my throat. Dear god, please let me not stumble over my words. “Not much, why?”

He sharply inhaled, like he was unsure if he should answer, “I had knocked on your door to invite you out to the bar again, but you didn’t answer.”

I stifled a chuckle, shrugging my shoulders, “Why? Were you afraid I was doing something better?”

Nicholas’s fingers played at the edge of my plate, smirking. “I figured you were out walking or something,” he smiled.

“Well, I planned to,” I picked at my croissant, ripping off a tiny piece and placing it in my mouth, “but I ended up staying in.”

“Oh? You stayed in?” He shifted in his seat, thinking about his next words. “Sleeping?”

I calculated my answer. I didn’t want him to be embarrassed about the fact that I could hear him having sex the past two nights. “Yeah, early night,” I kept it short, hoping he’d drop the subject or, at least, change the topic.

I wasn’t sure if he believed me, but I didn’t care to elaborate. His presence was disarming enough without dredging up last night’s… intrusive thoughts. Instead, I took another sip of tea and focused on not meeting his gaze.

“So, then why’d you come down here so late in the morning?” He asked, a grin playing at his lips.

I stumbled on my words, trying to find an answer, Nicholas becoming more amused and entertained the more I stumbled. Was he waiting around for me? Did he know his proclivities had kept me up? Did he know I could hear through the walls?

“Lazy morning,” I shrugged my shoulders. He stifled a chuckle, accepting my answer without too much kickback. “What about you?” I asked, turning the tables on him. “What did you get up to last night?”

His grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, and he leaned forward just slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Me? Nothing much,” his finger twiddled near my croissant, pushing around the tea spoon next to it, “I had a drink or two. A little company.” His eyes flickered up to meet mine.

I swallowed hard, the tension between us thickening. His choice of words hung in the air, deliberate and calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing dangling that tidbit of information in front of me, seeing if I’d bite, but I wasn’t going to.

Taking a sip of my tea, I pretended to brush off his words, “Sounds like you had fun,” I spoke casually, keeping my expression neutral.

Nicholas tilted his head, watching me closely. “I would’ve had even more fun, but I had some plans fall through,” he paused, “I had to improvise.”

Oh, the calculation in his words were driving me mad, especially because I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of baiting a specific reaction out of me. Was I right? Could that have been me in his room last night if I decided to go out with him?

I set the cup down as calmly as I could manage, but inside, I was shaking, “Doesn’t seem like you had any trouble improvising, then.”

For a moment, Nicholas’s fingers stopped tapping against the plate, that infuriating smirk returning. He leaned back into his chair, amused, “You heard, didn’t you?“

My eyes nearly fell out of my head, but I tried to keep it cool, "Heard what?"

His laugh was soft but full of certainty. "Come on, (Y/N). I heard you watching a movie the other night. These walls,” he gestured lazily toward the ceiling, “are paper thin; it was like I was in your room watching it with you.” He leaned toward me, resting his arms on the table again, “That’s why you woke up late, isn’t it?"

God, I wanted to shrivel up and die right then and there. It was absolutely infuriating how he could figure me out so easily. But my suspicions were confirmed — he did know, this entire time, and he still decided to have loud sex knowing anybody in the neighboring room could hear. And he had no shame about it!

My face burned with embarrassment, and l avoided his gaze like my life depended on it. "I didn't hear anything," I stammered, lying so poorly I might as well have just admitted the truth. “I’m a deep sleeper.”

Nicholas tilted his head, that insufferable smirk deepening. “A deep sleeper, huh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He rested his chin in his palm as he studied me like I was some kind of puzzle. “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”

My grip tightened on the edge of the table, desperate to regain some semblance of control.

“For what it's worth...” Nicholas pushed back his chair and stood, smiling down at me. He leaned down toward me, his tone softening just enough to send a shiver down my spine. "If I'd known you were listening, I might've put on a better show." He took a small bite of my croissant, dusting the crumbs off his hands and making his way toward the door, winking at me before he exited.

Unable to fathom what had just happened, I stayed planted in my seat. Did he seriously just say that? My thoughts spiraled. Was this a game to him? Could he tell just how truly flustered I was by his teasing? Was I really that easy to rile up?

I pushed my plate and mug away from me, hoping to regain some space to avoid feeling suffocated by the remnants of his presence that Nicholas had left behind in his wake. And yet, I couldn’t deny the pull he had on me. No matter how hard I tried to push it down, to deny the heat in my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach, it was there. Nicholas was under my skin.

I tried to avoid running into him the rest of the day, to suffocate him out of me like one would a parasite, but to know you’re avoiding someone, you’d have to be on the lookout, on your toes. Every corner I turned, I checked to see if he was there. Every room I entered, I scanned around looking for his distinct tousled hair. On the beach, I hid behind my sunglasses, scanning the shore for the familiar build of him. Finding him nowhere, I relaxed a bit, choosing to free myself and going for a short walk along the water.

I let the water lap around my ankles, rhythmically enveloping them as I slowly walked along the borderline empty beach. I picked up a few shells that caught my eye — only the colorful, unique ones. In fact, I kept walking, walking, and walking until it became evening, the sun setting over the beach, slowly but surely.

I returned to my spot, sitting back and admiring the colors of the sky. In fact, I was so relaxed, huddled under my towel, that I may have yawned once or twice. As I continued to look out into the horizon, I felt a cold tap on my shoulder, turning my head up to see who was interrupting my moment of relaxation. Of course, by now, I already knew who.

Nicholas stood there, towering over me with a pair of beers in his hand, holding one out for me. “Pretty, right?” He asked with a smile, looking out into the purple water.

I glanced at the beer in his outstretched hand before shifting my gaze to his face, the fading sunlight casting an orange glow over his sharp features. I kept my expression neutral, taking the beer from him without a word. He took that as an invitation to plop down in the space next to me, stretching his legs out and taking a sip from his can.

We sat there in silence for a while, the only sounds being the gentle crash of waves and the occasional chatter of distant beachgoers. It was… oddly peaceful, almost enough to make me forget about the tension that seemed to follow us — or should I say, me — like a shadow. Maybe, also, because I was a little sleepy.

“So, did you find what you were looking for today?” Nicholas asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You were walking up and down the beach for hours,” he said, motioning toward the small pile of shells I’d collected.

My mouth grew to a smile, cocky, “You were watching me for hours?”

For the first time, Nicholas stammered on his words, and it was a sight I was incredibly amused by. His head fell as he chuckled, maybe flustered that I had finally caught him in a moment instead of the other way around, “Yeah,” he nodded his head, his cheeks pink, “I was.”

I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. Watching him falter, even slightly, was a rare treat, one I planned to savor. “I can see why you like pushing people’s buttons now.”

“I don’t like pushing people’s buttons,” he said as he brought the beer to his lips, “just yours.”

It was insane just how quickly Nicholas could turn something back onto you. The admission was so casual, yet it hit me like a rogue wave. I stared at him, half-expecting him to laugh or brush it off as a joke, but he simply leaned back on his hands, eyes on the horizon like he hadn’t just set my pulse racing.

“I’m sure you say that to all your company,” I turned to face the water, sipping on my beer and trying to hide my flushed cheeks. I chose my words carefully, wanting to see how’d he react.

Nicholas let out a low chuckle beside me. “I don’t,” he said simply, his voice drawing me in despite myself. “Only you.”

I stole a quick glance at him, but he was already looking ahead, the way his profile caught the last rays of the setting sun, casting long shadows across his features. There was something magnetic about him, and the more time I spent around him, the more I couldn’t ignore it. He was confident, teasing, but there was something underneath, something deeper that made it hard to read him completely.

A part of me wanted to challenge him, maybe even keep him on his toes. But there was another part of me, the part I kept hidden, that wanted to give in to the tension, to see where it could lead. My mind raced with the possibilities, each thought contradicting the last, until I was sure I was overthinking every moment, every word we exchanged.

I cleared my throat and shifted my position in the chair, facing toward him completely. “Indulge me. What makes me so different that you just can’t help but push my buttons?”

He smiled, like he had an answer prepared since the moment we met, “You don’t give in easily, but you seem like the type to give yourself completely once you do.”

Nicholas’s words lingered in the air, making my pulse quicken. It was strange how effortlessly he could unravel me with just a few words. I tried to maintain my composure, but the quiet between us seemed to stretch longer than I was comfortable with. His words felt like a challenge,  but also like a promise. My mind kept drifting back to the night before, to the sounds of him on the other side of the wall.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I replied, keeping my voice steady, though it didn’t quite mask the undercurrent of uncertainty I was feeling.

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he shifted closer. “Really? Because there’s only so much pressure somebody can take before they start to crack.”

I wanted to say something sharp, something that would put distance between us, but his confidence was suffocating, almost intoxicating. I couldn’t seem to gather the words to shut him down. So, instead, I took another long sip from my beer, pretending to focus on the view ahead of me, though my mind was anything but at ease.

His smile widened, “Aren’t you cracking?”

For a moment, it felt like time stopped. The world seemed to fade into the background, and it was just the two of us, sitting there in the fading sunlight, with nothing but the sound of the waves and the sudden weight of his words hanging between us.

I cleared my throat, finishing my beer, “I don’t think so,” I said lightly, trying to mask the effect his words had on me.

“We’ll see about that then,” he finally said, his voice low and casual, though I could tell there was a hint of challenge in it.

I was almost afraid to look at him, afraid of what I might see in his eyes. But I couldn’t help it. Slowly, I turned my head, and our eyes met, the connection between us palpable. My head slowly started to move forward by itself, millimeter by millimeter, toward Nicholas. My heart raced faster and faster, it was practically thumping out of my chest when I realized that he was leaning in, too. Right as I was about to close my eyes to welcome whatever was about to happen, I heard a group of people loudly laugh as they passed by behind us. I quietly chuckled to myself, thinking that may be my cue to leave.

Satiating my dose of Nicholas for the day, I dusted myself off and stood up from the beach chair, handing him my empty beer bottle, “I guess we will,” I said, not too much of a challenge behind my words. I grabbed my chair and looked back at Nicholas with a friendly grin before walking off.

I couldn’t shake the feeling of Nicholas’s eyes on me, but I powered through, making my way to my room. The second I entered, I went to the bathroom and stripped off my sandy clothes, turning on the shower to warm myself up from sitting in the cool, evening breeze. The hot water streamed over my skin, washing away the lingering chill from the beach. I let out a deep breath, closing my eyes as the steam began to fill the space.

My mind wandered back to the conversation with Nicholas. His words replayed in my head, their weight sinking in a little deeper with each memory: We’ll see about that.

After my shower, I slipped into a cozy tee and shorts, feeling a bit more grounded. I sat by the window, towel drying my hair, watching the moonlight dance on the water. The calm of the night settled around me, but my mind was still restless.

To distract myself, I turned on the tv, not caring what was on but making sure to keep the sound at a reasonable volume to not disturb Nicholas but just loud enough that I might not hear tonight’s mystery woman moan through the wall.

As the night stretched on, I tried my best to focus on the random show playing on the screen, but my thoughts kept drifting. Every sound outside my window, every muffled thump from the hallway, made my heart race just a little faster thinking it might be Nicholas arriving to his room.

The hours ticked by. I hadn’t heard anything from his side of the wall yet — not a voice, not the creak of a bedframe, nothing. It was almost worse than the alternative. The anticipation was maddening. I half-wondered if he knew I was waiting, if he was deliberately drawing this out just to mess with me.

Finally, around midnight, I heard the faintest sound of a door opening and closing. My stomach twisted, though I wasn’t sure why. I told myself I didn’t care, that whatever he did wasn’t any of my business. There were a few thumps followed by a silence on the other side. I tried to focus on the tv but my ears seemed to be tuned in on what was going on the opposite side of the wall.

Minutes passed, and the silence persisted. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Nicholas had turned over a new leaf tonight, or maybe he just couldn’t hook himself a lady tonight. But just as my focus started to drift back to the tv, the silence was broken by a clear, unmistakable groan — Nicholas. I half-expected it to be followed by the high-pitched moan of a woman, like it was both nights prior, but it never came. 

I should’ve turned the volume up, drowned it out, or grabbed my headphones. Instead, I sat there, frozen, as the groaning grew louder — his voice, unmistakable and far too close for comfort. I hated how my body reacted. The heat in my cheeks, the way my chest tightened with every noise, the throbbing sensation between my thighs. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought, but I let my curiosity get the best of me.

I slid off the bed and crept toward the closet, my heart pounding in my chest. My rational side screamed at me to stop, to mind my own business, but something about the sound of his voice pulled me in. But the little devil on my shoulder told me that I had already eavesdropped twice before, what’s one more time?

Opening the closet doors quietly, I leaned over the luggage rack and pressed my ear lightly against the cool surface of the wall, listening. The groans continued, low and guttural, accompanied by the light sound of a rhythmic wet slapping, sending an uninvited warmth through my body. It took a moment for me to realize there was no second voice, no telltale feminine giggle or breathy gasp. It was just Nicholas.

My breath caught in my throat. He's alone. The realization sent a shockwave through me, equal parts relief and something else I didn't want to name. He wasn't with anyone tonight. He was... taking care of himself.

I pressed my forehead against the wall, closing my eyes as his voice — raw, unguarded, and achingly intimate — filled my ears. My hand instinctively moved to my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt as I fought the conflicting feelings that raced through me. However guilty I felt for listening in, I couldn’t pull myself away. I was entranced.

His groans deepened, interspersed with uneven breaths, and I felt my knees weaken. It was maddening how his voice seemed to reach right into me. My lips parted slightly, my breath shaky as my body betrayed me, responding to the sounds with a heat I tried desperately to ignore.

The wet slapping quickened, a whimper escaping his lips followed by erratic heavy breathing. I lost all inhibitions, slipping my hand under my underwear. I exhaled shakily, my head resting against the wall, feeling the vibrations of his voice travel through me. My fingers moved instinctively, slow and hesitant at first, matching the rhythm of the sounds spilling from him. Each groan, each sigh seemed to draw me deeper into a haze I couldn't escape.

My mind was a mess of contradictions: shame, desire, and something more dangerous — an unspoken connection, even if he didn't know I was there. I bit my lip, trying to stay as silent as possible, but the tension within me built with each passing moment, threatening to undo me entirely.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Nicholas quickly whined out, followed by a loud moan.

I slipped my other hand under my shirt, kneading my breast, as my fingers worked my throbbing clit. I felt the rapid beat of my heart as it matched the rhythm of his breath. The heat between my legs intensified, and the sound of his voice grew louder in my ears, pulling me further into the spiral. His groans were rough, almost frantic now, and I could feel every pulse, every heavy breath reverberating through the wall like it was echoing through my very bones.

I tried to focus, tried to pull myself out of this situation before it became something I couldn't undo, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't pull away, couldn't shake the pull of him. I closed my eyes tightly, my fingers rubbing harder against my clit in frantic circles, then moving them lower and slipping my middle and ring finger inside of me. Desperate, I pulled my shorts off me, letting them land at my feet.

My own breathing became erratic, escaping through my nostrils as I tried to keep myself from making any sound, biting the inside of my cheek and shutting my eyes closed as I pleasured myself.

His voice broke through the haze of my thoughts again. "God... need you..."

The words, the desperation in them, sent me into a frenzy. I couldn’t hold in my voice any longer — a quiet, whimper escaping my lips as I pumped my fingers inside me, pretending they were Nicholas’s. I could feel the tension in me coiling tighter and tighter the more I heard him talk through his pleasure.

A high-pitched groan slipped out of him, the wet slapping quickening even more. I could almost picture him on the other side — laying down in the middle of his bed, shirtless. his legs dangling off as he tugged at himself, his eyes shut as he grabbed at his hair, giving in.

My breath hitched at the vivid image in my mind. It was a dangerous thought, but one that I desperately wished I was there to see.

I could almost hear the strained breath in his throat, as if he was on the edge, about to break. The thought alone sent an electric charge through me, spurring me to move faster, my fingers pressing deeper, matching the intensity of his own rhythm.

"Please," he moaned, his voice broken, raw with need. "Fuck..."

The vulnerability in his voice, so exposed, so real, made me lose all control. I found myself unable to think or reason anymore. I was lost in him, in the sound of his pleasure, and in the dangerous path I was walking.

His voice faltered, his groans growing more frantic, and that's when I felt it — the sudden wave of warmth, the rush of sensation sweeping over me. But just as I was reaching my peak, so was he. Nicholas let out a sound so intimate and raw that it sent a shiver down my spine. Then came a low, guttural groan followed by the unmistakable — my name.

“(Y/N)- fuck!”

It happened just as I was about to reach orgasm, but I was so startled to hear my name that my eyes shot open and I stumbled back from the wall, knocking over the luggage rack below with a solid thud as it tipped over. I tried to catch it before it hit the floor, stumbling to reach for it, but my effort was for naught. A deafening silence filled the room after the loud noise quickly settled. The only thing I could hear was the loud thumping coming from my chest, becoming faster as I realized my predicament.

My breath came in shallow gasps, my body stiff with tension, caught somewhere between shock and embarrassment. On the other side of the wall, there was a beat of complete silence. I held my breath, waiting to hear something — anything — but nothing came. Not a footstep, not a sound. My mind raced, praying that Nicholas might’ve not heard the ruckus through his climax. Don’t orgasms dull one’s senses?

And then, as if the silence was suffocating me, I heard it. A faint creak — Nicholas’s door, opening then closing with a heavy thud. My chest tightened, anxiety coursing through my veins. I stood there frozen, my legs completely unable to move as if I had stuck them in buckets of cement. I felt every inch of my skin burn with humiliation. That’s when I heard a knock at my door, not light like the day before. It sounded desperate. I couldn’t run; I couldn’t hide. Nicholas knew I was in here.

Slowly, I inched closer to the door, my hand trembling as I reached for the doorknob. I tried to swallow my nerves, but I couldn’t fight the fact that I felt like I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. I breathed heavily as I opened the door, clutching at the edge as my eyes fell on Nicholas’s heaving bare chest.

He stood there, his chest rising and falling, glistening from the thin layer of sweat that he had worked up. A slight satisfied grin played on his lips as his eyes trailed down my body, lingering on my bottom half as I stood there in nothing but my shirt and lacy underwear.

He didn't wait for an invitation, stepping inside as soon as the door cracked open, closing it behind him with a deafening click. We stood there, facing each other, the silence hanging thick in the air. I could barely meet his gaze, my cheeks still burning with humiliation. I stammered, hoping to explain myself with a pathetic excuse of a reason, but he interrupted me with a quiet shush, still smirking.

He placed a finger gently over his lips, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "No need to explain," he whispered, stepping closer, his presence dominating the space between us. My breath hitched as he closed the distance, cornering me against the wall, his body heat enveloping me, making my pulse race.

The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the room was closing in on me with every breath. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn't quite figure out what to do with my hands, so I held them behind my back, pressing them against the wall.

“Were you listening in?” He asked, brushing his hand up my sides before it settled on my hip, my body trembling under his touch. It was everything I wanted him to do to me, and yet, I still felt nervous under him.

Too ashamed of myself to open my mouth to answer, I nodded my head hesitantly. Nicholas's smirk widened, but there was no mockery in it. No teasing. His hand slid to my chin, tilting my head up so that our gazes locked. There was no escape now — no way to hide.

“I hoped you were,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, sending shivers down my spine. His thumb traced the line of my jaw slowly, deliberately.

He was so close now that I could feel his breath against my skin, and I was painfully aware of how badly my body was reacting to him. His thumb brushed over my lips, and I instinctively parted them, my breath hitching as his gaze softened, darkened. I could feel the tension between us, so thick that I could almost taste it.

His other hand slid around to the small of my back, pressing me into him, the heat of his body sending waves of electricity through me. His eyes never left mine, and I could hear the rapid beat of my own heart in my ears, drowning out everything else.

Nicholas murmured, his voice dark and full of intention, "Did you enjoy what you heard?" His fingers tightened ever so slightly on my waist, as if testing my response, and I couldn't help the small, almost imperceptible nod that escaped my lips.

Nicholas's smirk deepened, and he closed the gap between us, his lips barely grazing mine. His breath was hot and intoxicating, and the world seemed to disappear around us.

“Were you touching yourself?” He questioned, his hand moving down to my hips, my body squirming the moment his finger hooked itself under the band of my underwear.

I closed my eyes, my lips parting at his touch, nodding my head again. My hands clenched behind my back, the urge to touch him overwhelming. But I couldn't seem to move, too caught up in the magnetic pull between us.

Nicholas's thumb traced the outline of my lips again, the action slow and deliberate. His gaze never left mine, and I could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he studied me like I was something he wanted, something he couldn't resist.

His voice was a whisper, low and intoxicating. "You can touch me if you want to." It was a quiet command, but there was an invitation in it.

I hesitated for a moment, but then, as if drawn by an invisible force, my hand slid up his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft skin. My fingers traced the lines of his collarbone, skimming down to the waistband of his pants before I pulled away, suddenly embarrassed by the boldness of the move. Nicholas didn't give me time to retreat too much, though. With a gentle but firm grasp, he pulled my hand back to his chest, guiding it lower, urging me to feel the hard planes of his body.

His lips parted slightly as he lowered his head, his breath hot against my ear. “Don't be shy,” he whispered again, his voice thick with desire.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I let my hand roam over his body, feeling the heat radiating from him. The muscles of his chest were solid under my touch, his skin warm and soft in contrast. My fingertips trailed down to the waistband of his pants again, this time without hesitation. He didn't stop me, didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a low, approving sound, his body shifting closer to mine.

The closeness was dizzying. His scent filled my senses, sharp and intoxicating, and I couldn't help but pull him toward me by his belt loops and lean in, my lips just inches from his.

He took charge, his lips brushing mine softly at first, teasing, testing, until the pressure grew, and I found myself kissing him back without hesitation. The kiss was electric, hungry, full of that same tension that had been building between us for days. His hand slid around my back, pulling me closer, as I tangled my fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss.

My body responded to him, betraying all the resistance l'd tried to put up. I felt his hands everywhere — on my back, on my hips, his hands softly squeezing my ass, pulling me closer as if he couldn't get enough. A groan rumbled low in his throat as his lips moved to my neck, trailing kisses down the curve of my collarbone. I tilted my head back, surrendering to the sensation, every nerve alive, every thought clouded by the pull of him.

His hands slipped under my shirt, sliding along my bare skin, and I gasped at the coolness of his touch against the heat of my body. The intimacy of it all, the way he seemed to know exactly where to touch, how to make me shiver, was overwhelming. But I wasn't the only one lost in this; it was clear from his ragged breathing, from the way his hands shook slightly as they explored my body, that he was just as desperate as I was.

"Everything I did this weekend was to get your attention," Nicholas murmured against my skin. His lips pressed against the curve of my jaw, trailing to my ear, where he nipped at the lobe gently. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you in the stairwell. I can't get enough of you, (Y/N),” his voice rough, almost pleading, “I want you.”

His confession hit me like a tidal wave, and for a second, I couldn't breathe. His words, his desire, everything he was feeling was laid bare before me, and I couldn't deny that I wanted him just as much.

"I want you, too, Nicholas," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but the raw honesty behind it made his body freeze. His hands paused where they rested on my back, and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, as if he was trying to read my soul.

I, however, didn't hesitate. My hands found the sides of his face, pulling him back toward me as I kissed him fiercely. The kiss became frantic as our bodies collided, desperate, as though we were both starved for this connection. His hands moved quickly, pulling my shirt over my head and discarding it on the floor. I felt the cool air hit my skin, but it did nothing to dampen the fire building inside me.

I couldn't pull away. My body, my mind, all of it was consumed by him. His lips trailed down my neck, his teeth grazing lightly over the sensitive skin of my collarbone as his hands roamed lower, finding the waistband of my underwear again. I gasped as he gently tugged them down, his fingers brushing against my skin with an intimacy that made me tremble.

Nicholas was steady in his movements, never rushing, always making sure I was with him, always checking, always asking if I was okay with everything. But there was a fire in his eyes, a need that mirrored mine, a hunger that couldn't be ignored.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered against my skin, his voice thick with desire. All I could do was nod my head at his statement, ready to give myself to him.

He wasted no time, lifting me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around him, hooking them behind his lower back. The feeling of his jeans grazing my bare center was enough to trigger a quiet mewl out of me. Nicholas groaned at the sound, his lips crashing back onto mine as he carried me toward the bed. When my back hit the soft mattress, I felt the weight of him settle over me, his hands bracing either side of my head.

His gaze bore into mine, his chest rising and falling heavily as he paused, his face hovering just inches above mine. For a moment, everything stilled, the only sound was the rhythmic beat of our breaths mingling in the air between us. As he settled down in the space next to me, propping himself up by the elbow, his free hand reached up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my flushed skin with a tenderness that sent shivers down my spine. The both of us laid there, face to face.

His lips parted as if to say something but no words escaped his lips, the hand on my cheek slowly making its way down, down. It lingered, at first, over my sensitive breast, tracing slow circles around my nipple. I bit my lip at the sensation, digging my head into his chest as I quietly moaned.

Nicholas quietly giggled, amused to see me squirming under him, as he slithered his supporting arm behind my head and pulled me closer to him. His lips rested on my forehead as he slid his hand further down, enveloping my center. “God, you’re soaking,” he whispered; I could feel his smirk against my skin.

His fingers massaged my throbbing bud, then slipped his fingers into me, his touch deft and confident. I loudly gasped and clutched at his arm, arching into him. “Oh, fuck,” I quietly breathed, nibbling on my bottom lip to bite back my moans.

He smiled, “Don’t hold yourself back. Be as loud as you want,” he whispered as his fingers continued to coax me, his thumb massaging my clit.

Digging my nails into his shoulder, my chest violently rising and falling as he pumped his fingers, I shook my head. “Somebody’s gonna hear,” I stammered out through my labored breathing.

“So?” He questioned, slipping a third finger in. Nicholas's confidence was maddening, his tone both teasing and commanding, making it impossible to resist him. “Let them hear how good I make you feel," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.

My body arched involuntarily, my head falling back into the pillow as a moan escaped me despite my best efforts to stifle it. Nicholas was not having it. He quickened his pace, quickly slipping in and out with ease, as his thumb continued to circle around my clit. His lips kissed at my neck, his tongue licking my skin before gently sucking. I turned my head, my hand clutching at the back of his hair as I passionately made out with him, softly moaning between kisses.

I was unraveling beneath him, my body trembling as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in my core. My moans slowly became louder and louder, filling the room, and I knew there was no hiding how he was making me feel. The pleasure that I was feeling was so great that I couldn’t focus on kissing Nicholas anymore. I had to pull my head away, glancing down at his hand pumping in and out of me before shutting my eyes and burying my head into his chest again. I could barely find the strength to call out to him, my voice faltering as I moaned out, “Nic…” 

"That's it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. "Say my name, baby,” his fingers reshaping themselves inside me to reach further

My breathing became erratic hearing him call me baby, my nails raking across his shoulder as I clung to him, "Nicholas," I cried, louder this time, no longer caring who might hear.

The sound of my voice seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more precise, more relentless. His words, his touch, the heat of his body — it was all too much. "It’s ok; I’ve got you," he murmured against my neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along my skin. His gaze locking with mine, his fingers never faltering.

His words were my undoing. I shattered around him, my body arching as a wave of pleasure crashed over me, pulling me under. My cries of ecstasy filled the room, and I clung to Nicholas like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality. He held me through it, his embrace steady and reassuring as I rode out the high while his fingers continued to coax every pleasure out of me, slowing to a stop.

When I finally came down, my body limped against his, Nicholas pressed a soft kiss to my lips, his hand leaving my core and coming up to his lips. I watched in awe as he licked at his fingers, wrapping his lips around them as he savored every trace of me with a deliberate slowness that made my breath hitch. His eyes never left mine, their intensity sending a shiver down my spine. I buried my face against his shoulder, my breathing still uneven.

He brushed away the damp hair from my face with the back of his pinky, “You taste even better than I imagined,” he spoke softly, his voice velvety.

The weight of his gaze was almost too much, but when I looked into his brown eyes, all I saw was warmth, tenderness, and something deeper that made my stomach ache. My stomach wasn’t the only thing aching, either. The entirety of me did — my hands, my core, my soul. I ached for him.

Desperate to have him at the end of my fingertips, I trailed my hands across his chest, settling on the nape of his neck as I captured his lips in a kiss. Nicholas replied with a soft groan, his hand finding my waist and his fingers delicately digging into my skin. The kiss deepened, our breaths mingling as I pulled him closer, needing to feel every inch of him against me. My hands wandered, exploring the contours of his back, his muscles taut under my fingertips.

I pulled my lips away, pressing my forehead against his, “I hope you’re not done with me yet,” I whispered.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, “Far from it.”

He cradled my head in his hand, angling it slightly as his lips moved with mine, urgent yet tender. Nicholas shifted his weight, moving slightly up on the bed, grabbing me by my hips and rolling himself over on the bed as he pulled me on top of him.

My legs straddled his hips, my bare skin brushing against the rough denim of his jeans. The friction sent a jolt through me, and I bit my lip, my eyes locking with his. His hands slid up my thighs, gripping them firmly as if grounding himself in the moment. His gaze roamed over me with unrestrained hunger, making my skin flush under his scrutiny.

His hands continued their slow exploration, sliding up to rest on my waist. "I could look at you like this forever."

His words sent a thrill through me, and I couldn't help but smile, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He met me halfway, his hands tightening their grip as he deepened the kiss. I let my hands roam, tracing the lines of his chest and shoulders, marveling at the strength beneath my fingertips. His muscles flexed as he moved beneath me, his hands sliding up to cradle my back, holding me close.

My hips began to move instinctively, grinding against him, and Nicholas groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as his eyes fluttered shut. His reaction ignited something in me, a newfound confidence that made me bold. I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, "Tell me what you want, Nicholas."

His hands gripped my waist tighter, guiding my movements as he let out a low growl. "I want you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

The intensity of his words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't hold back the smile that spread across my face. Leaning down, I kissed him again, pouring every ounce of my own desire into it. My hands tangled in his hair as our lips moved together, our breaths mingling as the space between us disappeared entirely.

Nicholas's hands slid down to my ass, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided me to move against him. The friction between us was electric, each movement sending waves of pleasure through me. His lips left mine to trail down my neck, his teeth grazing over my skin in a way that made me gasp.

"You drive me crazy, (Y/N)," he murmured against my collarbone, his voice raw, “you know that?"

I smiled, my hands bracing against his chest as I moved against him, my confidence growing with every reaction I drew from him. "I do now," I replied, my voice breathless.

Nicholas groaned, his hand digging into my skin as he bucked his hips upward, meeting my movements. His control was slipping, and I could feel it in the way his grip tightened, the way his breathing grew ragged. I continued to grind against him, trying to coax out the whimpers I had heard escape his lips when I was listening through the wall.

Nicholas's hands slid up my back, his fingers tracing along my spine as he tried to steady himself. His head fell back, his eyebrows tied together as his lips parted in a quiet moan that sent a rush of heat through me. But it wasn’t enough. I brushed my thumb against his bottom lip, slowing to a stop so he could feel the loss, teasing him with the occasional grind, “I want to hear you, Nic.”

He nodded his head, pressing me down against him as he bucked his hips upward repeatedly, desperate for me to continue. “Please, (Y/N),” he shut his eyes closed as he ground himself against me, quietly whining.

Smirkingly, I obliged, slowly continuing to grind against him. I rested my palms on his tense chest, bringing them down to the waistband of his jeans. His fingers curled into my thighs the faster I worked, moaning louder and louder.

“Fuck, I can’t—“ he threw his head back, raggedly moaning.

Looking at him in such a vulnerable state underneath me after days of having to deal with his cocky confidence, it made my blood rush. I played with the button of his jeans, undoing them and shimmying his pants and boxers off just enough for his hard length to free itself under me. I spit my hand, gently stroking him as I positioned his member at my entrance.

Nicholas let out a guttural groan, his hands gripping me firmly as I hovered over him, teasing him with my slow movements. I lowered myself onto him, taking him in inch by inch, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure coursing through my body. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, and Nicholas’s eyes rolled back, his head falling back onto the pillow again. The connection between us was electric, every movement, every sound amplifying the intensity of the moment. Nicholas's hands roamed over my body, his touch both tender and possessive.

As I rode him, I grabbed Nicholas’s hands, leading them to my chest. Even though he could barely keep his eyes open, he understood what I wanted, beginning to knead and pinch at my breasts. I moaned at his touch, bringing one hand of his up to my lips to kiss his fingertips before placing it back on my breast.

Suddenly, I felt him tense under me, arching his back toward me, "Don't stop," he pleaded, his voice becoming an octave higher, his grip on me tightening. "Please, baby, don't stop.”

I didn't. I couldn't. The rhythm between us was intoxicating, building to something that felt almost otherworldly. My name fell from his lips like a prayer, and the sound sent a surge of pleasure through me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

Nicholas's hands fell to my hips, guiding my movements as his breathing grew erratic. "I'm close," he groaned, his voice a mix of desperation and pleasure.

I leaned down, my lips brushing against his ear as I whispered, “Come for me, Nic." My words seemed to break the last of his restraint, and his hips bucked up into me with an urgency that sent shockwaves through my entire body.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I —“ His words cut off as a guttural groan escaped him, his body arching beneath me as he came. The intensity of his release sent me spiraling over the edge with him, my body trembling as the product of his pleasure filled me completely, some of the creamy liquid slowly dripping out me.

The aftershocks of our climax left us both trembling, our breaths mingling as we tried to regain control of ourselves. I collapsed onto Nicholas's chest, his arms immediately wrapping around me, holding me close as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting go.

For a while, we just lay there, our bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in unison. His fingers traced lazy patterns along my spine, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips. I could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath me, the steady rhythm lulling me into a serene haze.

He caught his breath, “That was….” a hint of a chuckle at the end of his words, “That was fucking incredible,” he said as he kissed the top of my head.

I pulled myself off of Nicholas, lying down next to him and covering myself with the bed sheets. I thought about what he had said earlier at the beach — I may not give in easily, but when I do, I give in completely. It felt nice to finally be seen by someone who could understand me even after only knowing me for a few days compared to other people who have known me for years and still manage to get things wrong about me.

I rolled over to face Nicholas, my hand finding his. He smiled softly, intertwining his fingers with mine and kissing the back of my hand. A smile curled at the end of my lips seeing him so affectionate, “When do you check out of the hotel?” I asked, playing with his hand.

“In the morning. You?” He asked, caressing my cheek with his other hand.

“In the morning,” I replied, my eyes flickering up at him to see his reaction.

He was quiet, not saying anything at first, however, he rolled me over and pulled me closer to him, spooning me and pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “We’ll have tonight, then,” he whispered, wrapping his heavy arm around my waist and nuzzling his head into the pillow.

My chest tightened at his words, and I couldn't help but smile softly. I rested my hand above his, intertwining our fingers. Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep to the sound of Nicholas’s soft, rhythmic breathing.

A few hours later, which felt like minutes, I stirred awake to the soft light filtering through the curtains. The remnants of the previous night were scattered around — my shirt and underwear and his jeans and boxers strewn carelessly across the floor, the faint scent of Nicholas's cologne mingling with the crisp hotel room air.

The weight of his big, beefy arm draped over my waist anchored me in place. For a moment, I stayed still, savoring the warmth of his body against mine and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek before I rotated in place so I could admire Nicholas as he rested. 

We were so close that I could count the beauty marks on his face. There was one on his cheek and another on his chin. His lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, his lips slightly parted as he breathed deeply. I softly grazed my fingers over the scar on his forehead, wondering how he might’ve gotten it, though I’m not sure if I’d ever find out. He looked peaceful, vulnerable even, and the sight tugged at something deep within me.

I let my fingers trail lightly over his chest, tracing the faint outlines of the muscles that had pressed against me so urgently just hours ago. He stirred slightly, a low hum escaping his throat as his arm tightened around me instinctively.

His eyes fluttered open, landing on me before he closed them again for a few seconds, “Morning,” he murmured, smiling, his voice thick and husky from sleep. He opened his eyes again, gazing at me longingly.

"Morning," I whispered back, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze despite everything we had shared. His hand slid up my back, his fingers tangling in my hair as he leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss.

“Are we staying in?” he asked, shifting his body to face me.

I smiled, running a hand through his messy bedhead. "Oh, I wish," I admitted, my cheeks flushing as the memories of the night before flooded back, "but we have to check out.”

Nicholas groaned, his forehead pressing gently against mine. “Don’t remind me,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “We should get some breakfast together before we leave.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, pushing myself up and sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching my arms. I let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of the moment settle on me. The night had been incredible, but the thought of leaving was already filling me with an unexpected ache. “Breakfast sounds perfect,” I said softly, faking a small yawn.

Nicholas and I didn’t waste any time. I changed into a clean set of clothes and packed up my things, my body slowly waking up the more I walked back and forth in the room. Nicholas put on his boxers and jeans and retreated to his room for a bit, quickly throwing all his stuff into a backpack before coming back to my room and helping me carry my bags to the car.

I think I was too somber to say anything, knowing if I did, that a “goodbye” might be attached to the end of whatever I say.

The silence between us felt heavy but not uncomfortable as we made our way to the café, our movements synchronized without the need for words.

As we entered, the delicious smell of freshly-baked pastries beckoned to us. The morning sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting soft rays across the inside. The sound of light chatter and the occasional clinking of cups and forks against the ceramic plates filled the air, but it all felt distant compared to the warmth between Nicholas and me.

He slithered his hand into mine as he led us to the register, politely smiling to the worker. He ordered his meal, a coffee and a Belgian waffle. I was about to order for myself when he interrupted. “She’ll have the Italian crème croissant and a pot of green tea, please.”

I couldn’t help but smile. That first morning in the café, I could’ve sworn Nicholas was so focused on his book that he didn’t realize what was going on around him; I had no idea he was paying attention to me the entire time.

He paid the worker for our food, letting her keep the change, and waked us over to the same table I had sat in both days prior. We sat close, our knees brushing under the table as we picked at our food, the conversation flowing easily despite the unspoken weight of the situation hanging in the air. After some minutes, the worker came over with our food, and we continued to converse while enjoying our breakfast.

Nicholas looked at me, his expression soft but with a hint of something more playful. “So, at what point are you gonna give me your number?” he asked, taking a bite of his waffle.

I paused, chuckling softly as I chewed on my croissant for a moment before meeting his gaze. “What?” I asked confusedly, trying to keep my tone casual, though my heart rate had sped up slightly.

“What, you thought you’d get rid of me so easily?” He took a sip of his coffee, shaking his head and smirking.

I laughed, the sound a little nervous but genuine. “I just didn’t want to assume anything or get my hopes up,” I admitted, giving him a sideways glance. There was a warmth spreading through me that I couldn’t quite place, something between affection and the lingering thrill of uncertainty.

Nicholas’s eyes softened, and he leaned back slightly, his hands wrapped around his cup. “Well, get your hopes up,” he said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of something deeper. “because I don’t plan on letting go of you anytime soon.”

I swallowed, feeling my heart rate quicken at his words. There was something about the way he said it — so casually but with an intensity beneath the surface — that made me realize just how serious he was. And maybe how serious I was about him too.

“Alright, alright,” I said, smiling, trying to shake off the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside me. “Let’s trade phones.”

Nicholas’s smile widened, and he handed me his phone without hesitation, his fingers brushing against mine as we traded devices. I typed my number into the phone app, adding myself as a contact.

“Just remember we’re in different time zones before you decide to call me in the middle of the night,” I joked as I handed his phone back to him.

Nicholas laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made my heart flutter. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, slipping the phone back into his pocket then handing me mine, the screen off. “Though I won’t make any promises I can’t keep.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, but the blush creeping up my neck betrayed me.

We finished our breakfast. Nicholas quietly walked me over to my car. He walked close to me, his hand occasionally brushing against mine before finally capturing it. He leaned casually against the car with his arms crossed. He looked so effortless, so at ease, but there was something in his eyes — a softness, maybe even a hint of reluctance — that made it clear he felt the weight of the moment, too.

We both stood there silently, knowing this was our goodbye. Nicholas uncrossed his arms, stepping closer until he was right in front of me. His fingers tilted my chin up, and he searched my eyes, his brows knitting together slightly as if to say something. However, instead of resorting to words, he inched his face closer and closer until our lips grazed. 

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if we were both trying to hold on to the fleeting moment. But then, as if we both couldn’t help it, the kiss deepened, more urgent now, the electricity between us undeniable. My hands found their way to his shirt, pulling him closer, while his arms wrapped around me, his fingers pressing into my back as if he wanted to keep me there forever. Though, we pulled away slowly, our foreheads resting against each other as we caught our breath. Neither of us spoke immediately, both of us reluctant to break the spell.

Nicholas stepped back, “How about next time you have a free weekend you treat yourself to a trip to LA and come visit me?”

My heart skipped a beat at his words, the weight of his offer sinking in. I couldn’t tell if it was the sudden openness of his invitation or the quiet sincerity in his voice that made it feel so real. It wasn’t just a passing comment; it was an open door between us.

“I’d like that,” I said softly, surprised by how easily the words came out.

He smiled, his expression softening. “Good.” He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering as his eyes locked onto mine.

I wanted to say more — something that could make this moment last longer, something to ease the ache already starting to form in my chest. But the words didn’t come, and instead, we stood there, wrapped in silence, our connection hanging between us like an unspoken promise.

He gave me one lingering kiss, brief but filled with everything we couldn’t put into words. When we finally pulled away, he looked at me, as if taking one final mental picture of me standing there, before speaking. “I’ll call you.”

I nodded, feeling the flutter of anticipation start to rise inside me. “You better.”

He squeezed my hand gently before opening my car door and slyly rolling down the window, watching me climb inside and closing the door for me. He leaned on the door, softly smiling, “To be continued.”

I couldn’t help but smile and give him one final kiss through the open window so I could savor his taste before starting up the car. He stepped back, hands in his pockets, to give me enough room to back out of the parking space. I slowly reversed out, waving my hand at him and driving out into the street.

The quiet hum of the engine filled the space, but the silence didn’t feel empty. There was something between us, something that went beyond just a weekend. It was more than I’d expected, more than I’d thought I was ready for, but as I drove away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end.

I don’t think I even left the neighborhood before a phone call interrupted my thoughts. My car’s entertainment screen lit up with the contact name in big, bold letters — Room 5.

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head as I tapped the answer button on the steering wheel. “Hey,” I teased, my voice light and playful, though my chest felt warm at the sight of his contact name lighting up my screen.

“Hey,” Nicholas’s voice came through, smooth and familiar.

It was just the beginning.

Continue the story with 'Making Room' here

[siddyyyyyyyy]

It's All an Act

Actor!AU Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader

wc: 7.6 K summary: Actor!Bruce plays as your love interest in your up-coming movie warnings: afab!reader, both being about the same age, acting sex scenes on set (not real secs for now), reference to the Writer's Strike (2023) please don't arrest me, sassy and smug Bruce, making out a/n: got this idea while scrolling through pinterest, lost my mind somewhere during this, originally wanted to make a single part on it, but I think it's better if I make it a few parts instead. enjoy!

next part

Everyone knew you. Well, it was hard to find someone who didn‘t at least know how you looked like. The same goes to Bruce Wayne, but there is probably a chance that he is even more successful than you.

And that‘s exactly what you are trying to change with your new movie. Casting him as the main character and yourself as his love interest will get the media spiraling. Being a director and actor really does have its charms sometimes. And surprisingly enough, he accepted the role since he auditioned to it in the first place. Now you can finally get to prepare all the stuff for the filming days once you got all the other actors for each role filled, and the script finished.

There‘s no more satisfying feeling you get when everything seems to work out and it‘s time to actually film the movie. The hardest part is to keep it a secret for a few months until the production gets into working. But for now you are pretty satisfied with your work, getting some progress and even getting to test out new cameras for the movie, form a company that supports the production. Only thing that‘s making you a little weary is the actual success of the movie. What if he ends up getting even more popular than you? What if the movie flops completely and you need to somehow cover that up? What if you won‘t have good chemistry on set, even with two talented actors like you two? What if…

»Have you finally got the copy of the storyboard?«

Malva asks, looking to you with her usual strict look, one of your close friends waiting for your answer. She is working with the camera crew, has gone to filming school with you. Has sticked to your side through thick and thin, and she still gets ideas that blow your mind at times. Her ideas are mostly for camera directing, but that's the most exciting part in filming for most, so it really pays out.

At her question, you hand her the copy of the storyboard, getting to discuss some questions and how you actually imagined the scenes to look like, getting invested on talking with her that you don‘t notice your co-star arrive on set and search for the director.

»I‘m guessing you are the director? Sorry for interrupting.«

There is that bright smile in front of you that never fails to make you swoon for at least a split moment. No, actually, you can‘t stand the way he looks so perfect and has more prominent in media than you. Although it is a little weird when he mostly takes on smalled roles as side characters and rarely gets a main role like this.

»No, don‘t be sorry, I‘m glad you made it! We‘re still setting up some stuff, so you can get ready in trailer seven.«

He nods and gets to the trailer that is going to be his while filming, letting you have some more time with Malva and your crew to set everything up and start to film the first scenes.

You settle on filming the scenes in the middle of the movie, only able to use the setting for today and tomorrow, really hoping you won‘t film too long so the landlord of the property won‘t get angry at you.

Once settled, the filming starts and it goes by fairly nice and as planned. Sure, it was a little funny acting out a scene with him, playing a couple who‘s having an argument about their current state of relationship, even when they just met on set.

Either way, the crew and co-director are satisfied with the result after taking some more takes. Maybe this will be better than you‘ve expected. Until you realised what the next scenes were going to be. You hate yourself for writing this script. A sex-scene, seriously? Trying to overshadow your small worries, you get ready in your trailer with some help of your staff before you discuss the ‚choreography‘ of the scene together with Bruce and the intimacy coordinator. This loosens you both up, having a plan and also know what to expect from this scene, since you literally just wrote „They undress and have sex.“ What a creative script writer you are.

You don‘t know what you expected, but you didn‘t necessarily think that Bruce would be so open and chill about such a scene. During your discussion of boundaries and acceptable touching areas, he seemed like he didn‘t have any problem being touched anywhere, really. It was a little strange at first, but you quickly realised he probably just wants to get over with it. And that made you a little sad. He should be comfortable during the scene, not be annoyed and hoping for it to end quickly, considering filming usually takes a few hours. The co-director and you want some close-ups, wide- hots and midshots in order to edit it together as the best verion of the scene in post. Of course it‘s going to take hours and it‘s important to feel comfortable during the long filming hours together.

But he reassured you after asking him again with that charming smile of his, hating how perfect it looks like. You‘ve seen him on interviews and on the red carpet before, but seeing him smile like that never fails to make you wonder if he is actually real.

Finally, with everything settled and with the modesty garments on, you can finally film the ‚Reuniting Scene‘ with your co-star.

Your movie is about two past lovers who find each other gain after a few years, then getting together again. What a classic. The plot is however more than that. The main character, Bruce, or rather Andy in the movie, is a playboy and billionare with a secret identity. His love interest doesn‘t know this though and just wants to get together with him again, and he is way too naive to get in bed with you almost immediately after one cafe date. Playboy activities.

This means that the scene you are about to play is essential for the movie.

First, you start with wide shots. Easy done, getting a camera set up that follows your movements onto the bed. After getting some shots of Andy passsionately and messily kissing you while guiding you urgently to the bed, you already feel a little worn down. So, time for a break!

During the break, he approaches you to discuss the other stuff in the script.

»Just… how did you get the idea of this plot? I mean, a playboy having a secret identity as a hero? How did you come up with that?«

You didn‘t know he was a secret interviewer as well. But putting your slight surprise aside, you start explaining to him briefly what got you into this idea while trying to keep it as brief as possible. Also without telling him about your initial plan of getting more popular than him... In a way.

All the while he listens to the while you explain, listening intently while nodding along from time to time. Unfortunately, you got a little carried away while explaining him your reasons for the movie, having ended up info dumping on him a little about your researches you did for writing the script, which however made him listen to you even more intently.

»So, I also just watched a lot of videos and documentations about gun handling and missions from former private agents, so I can make this as believeable as possible, but I also feel like I still haven‘t mastered it quite well for now, even though I made sure the props are as realistic as possible and we have a good choregrapher for the fight scenes later on – « You ramble on as you get on set again, settling onto position on the bed while talking his ears off in the meantime. It doesn‘t seem like he minds though, listening to your words, while throwing in some small questions and check-ups as he is hovering above you on the bed.

»Yeah, you can put your hand on my thigh – and I also made sure to actually make the small mission Andy is in will be as realistic and logical as possible, but I‘m also a little unsure if the scenario is actually so realistic as it is…«

»You‘re really determined to get the most realistic movie of the year, huh?« He muses back once you trail off, looking to you once you are both finally in position on bed.

»What? How could you ever think of that?«

You retort sarcastically, not having noticed how much you‘ve been talking until the co-director just calls »Action!« for the cameras to roll and you have to act.

Your breath hitches subtly once you feel his hand ride up your thigh before landing at your collar of your shirt and starts to unbutton it in careful but rushed movements. Again, you have to follow the small choreography you both came up with earlier, your brain working quick to actually follow through and act as if this already feels like heaven. Finally, you get your head together and reach for the back of his neck to connect your lips, getting a small moan from both of you. His hands finally pry your shirt off and he disconnects his lips from you to trail them down your throat towards your chest, a small shiver running down your spine against your will.

You both agreed for him to have the upper hand in this, since he is acting as a playboy, and you‘d be lying if you said he isn‘t quite confident in his role. Your thoughts are quickly thrown away as you feel him press kisses against your temple and down to your jaw while his hands roam over your sides. Mimicing his actions, your hands feel across his lean back and press him further down towards you. A low growl escapes him before he takes your thigh in his hand to push it up against his side.

The scene ends for now, needing to repeat it for a close-up shot. You are actually grateful he has expirience in intimate scenes, not needing to give him any more instructions or tips since he has quite a good knowledge in it already. Repeating the same scene for the next shot was easier, actually having had a little time to prepare instead of being pulled away from your rant about your script. Afterwards, you get another break and take your time to actually collect yourself before continuing with the scenes. Your co-director pulls you to her side for a moment to look over the filmed scenes, not having expected for them to actually look… hot? Well, this is good, actually. It‘s a little strange seeing you on screen like this, but you knew you would need to look over the scenes either way.

Once satisfied, you get back to your spot to sit down and scroll through your phone, distract yourself from the scene you just filmed over and over again, feeling how mush your brain feels right now.

This time, Bruce doesn‘t come around to ask you about the plot and other stuff, probably having had enough of your rant earlier. You really tried to explain it to him briefly, but it ended up in a full ramble session.

Filming the last few scenes were a little difficult to master from the last hours of filming, but time came by faster than you‘d expected and it is time to pack up and leave the set for today.

◐

The filming days actually went by rather fast, and your work relationship grew stronger with Bruce. You had some fun actually acting the scenes out with him, even when the first day was just slightly awkward between you two. Currently, you are neck deep in a book, annotating the pages at the side with a red fineliner during your break. The colour matches the book cover. Bruce walks by and the book in your hand catches his attention. Reading the title, he immediately recognises it and steps up to you.

»My son loves this book.« You finally look up from the words on the page and lock eyes with him, being slightly surprised by it.

»Which son?« You ask slowly, being unsure if this question was offensive or not, even though he showed his rather dark humour early on and doesn‘t seem to be hardly offended by something ever. He huffs out lightly amused and answers your question without missing a beat.

»Jason. My second son. He is a big bookworm, I think he read more classics than school textbooks.«

»Well, he isn‘t the only one.« He smiles lightly at that and takes a seat besidde you, his cup of coffee still in hand.

»So, you‘re a bookworm? Or just to pass time?«

Honestly, you haven‘t exactly expected for him to strike up a conversation with you that seems to be genuine at that as well. The first talk he started with you was just about the script anyway and it was more to clear up his curiousness and slight confusion. This actually feels like he wants to talk to you and get to know you.

»I read quite often. At least when I have time, like now.«

You answer him and close your book, setting it on your lap before clasping your hands over it. Bruce takes your answer in, asking another question.

»And you annotate? What exactly do you write down?« That question throws you a bit off guard, trying to answer him without sounding like a total loser.

»Uhm… usually just my thoughts. And sometimes I analyse sentences, if I feel like it.«

Finally, Bruce seems to be a little impressed. Or maybe he is just good at acting surprised, which you wouldn‘t doubt he is doing right now.

»Really? So, you usually just leave simple comments or thoughts? That‘s actually pretty nice, but I wouldn‘t have the energy to do so.«

You manage a small chuckle at his words, not sure if you should be flustered or not. Was that even a compliment?

»Oh, I get it. Can‘t have much time to yourself with this job.«

He lets out a small laugh as well and nods in agreement, fidgeting with his coffee cup in his hands a little.

The conversation pauses briefly, Bruce speaking up again and looking towards you.

»Would you like to go out and get some coffee some time? Get a break from all this, wouldn‘t hurt right?«

Without much thinking you agree on it and set up a date for it, only later realising it sounded a little suspicius. Even if it was just a little suspicious, you won‘t let that go in your mind. He basically just asked you out. And typically enough, you didn‘t even notice it or gave it a second thought until later when he left again.

Was this genuine or was it just method acting? This would be a little too much for method acting, no? Maybe. Does this concern you even more? Yes.

Getting off the break, you continue to film the second act of the movie, already feeling like this will actually pay out in the end.

It doesn‘t really seem like he is method acting, more like acting out the scenes like a normal actor after practicing his lines thoroughly, and being confident in his performance. Besides, method acting has nothing to do with him asking you out. Method acting, also known as ‚The Method‘ is a form of rehearsal where the actors tries to understand his character and analyses their emotions in order to act it out as accurate as possible and to show the audience the depth of the character. While it is mostly common used for theater, it‘s also common to use it for film.

You are really trying to figure Bruce out. In past interviews he was nothing but charming and polite, strictly polite even, but on set he is no different. It‘s strange, most actors you‘ve worked with were at least a little chaotic and different on set, but not him. You hate to say it, but he is not like others. He has something more to him. A certain charm and touch you can‘t quite put a finger on yet. And being with him almost every day because of work is giving you the opportunity to check on it and find it out, but he is hard to reach as well. It‘s not like he is hard to talk to, it‘s quite the opposite. But your conversations have never been more than mere small talk and discussions about the script, that usually ends up with you rambling off about it. So, you are frustrated.

Eventually, you help the crew and technicians with putting the stuff away for today, knowing you shouldn‘t do it, but you can‘t just leave the studio without helping them with the rest.

Bruce catches you however and snatches the heavy camera from you so he can put it in its case without your back breaking halfway.

»Oh, you don‘t need to, I can- «

»None of that. You already work so much, it‘s only fair when someone helps you out. Besides, I like helping people.«

He ignores your words and just smiles softly, as he puts the camera gently into its case, it seeming as if it doesn‘t weight anything in his arms. The he handled it with such ease really hurts your ego a bit, but also makes you wonder what his workout routine is. Because there is no way he just didn‘t break out a sweat while doing that. Unlike you.

»We don‘t want to miss out on our small date, right? Or did you forget already?«

You don‘t see it but Bruce is ready to be rejected and made fun of with how surprised you look at him. But truth is, you really just forgot about the arranged meeting you both settled on earlier in lunch break, because of all the things you had to do today.

»No, sure we‘re still going out. I just… kind of, forgot about it, but I didn‘t! I mean, I just, uh… let‘s just go, okay?«

You tag him along to the exit and he leads you to the café he mentioned earlier, it seeming already cosy enough from the outside. He opens the door for you before choosing a place to sit at and goes to the counter to order you both a warm drink. He sits down across from you at the table again and just looks at you with a small but noticeable smile. It is quiet for a moment before he speaks up.

»What kind of books do you read again? Or any other hobbies you have?«

Is he really trying to just befriend you or are you just another hopeless case of delusional? Quickly putting those thought aside, you answer him and make it short this time. No rambling now. Once he finds out about your passion for thriller, he perks up and shares his own few favourites about thriller and detective stories. Although he tends to love real biographies and real incidents, there is a mutual interest for those gernes in books.

»It‘s a good thing we have something in common. But I‘ve never tried annotating books before like you do. Is it fun?«

You shrug lightly in response, answering him after a brief moment.

»Depends on the person, but I really enjoy doing that. I like reading through stuff and write down my own thoughts. I also underline sentences and just… use the book. I didn‘t buy it for nothing, right?«

He nods lightly to your words, probably not used to someone using a book to actually write in it just for fun. Most people see it as a crime to doodle into the pages fo your book, but you take pride in it.

»Could I borrow one of your books? Especially one that you wrote in already.«

The suggestion takes you by surprise, but who are you to say no to that? Of course you nod without thinking too much about it, already thinking about which book you will lend him.

»Sure, I‘ll lend you one! I‘ve waited so long for someone to ask me this, what book do you want? I can also just take the book I read today. I have read it over three times anyway.«

Now Bruce is slightly surprised but also glad you agreed to this so easily. He nods slightly, not wasting time on responding to you.

»Animal Farm? Sure, that sounds good.«

Even when the novella isn‘t a thriller or detective, he is still willing to read it just to get to know you even more and read through those silly comments on the sides. Reaching over, you hand him the book which he puts safely into his own bag before the conversation continues between you both and you end up chatting about other stuff as well and enjoy your coffee while talking. You don‘t even realise how much time goes by before the staff in the shop are slowly getting ready to close it, cleaning around and making sure you both don‘t want to order anything anymore. That‘s also when you see how dark it is outside, getting out of the shop with him and walk down the dimly lit streets side-by-side.

Once you are both back at the parking lot, he walks you to your car, making sure you won‘t get kidnapped.

»You know, we could read together in my library some time. If that would be okay.«

That thought put a smile onto your facce but you quickly mask it, not wanting to come off as too excited.

»We could, at least I won‘t mind. I don‘t want to be a bother in your home or anything.«

You respond, still trying to be polite but he seems to destroy it with shaking his head.

»You won‘t be, promise. I‘m sure Damian won‘t mind, and all my other kids only visit occasionally now.« Bruce reassures you, smiling a little at you as he stands before you, waiting for your response. Sighing out you give in, agreeing to the invitation.

»Fine. We can meet up some day to read. I‘m sure I‘ll have time in about a week.« Bruce nods and feels glad you will make some time for him to hang out again. Reading together in comfortable silence? There is nothing better in Bruce‘s mind.

◐

The silence is filled with tension while Andy is standing tall, still with his suit and pistol in hand. His lover is standing right in front of him, a look of horror on their face that makes his chest shred into pieces.

»I can explain...« Andy carefully starts and puts the safety on in his gun before placing it onto the table beside him.

»First you are some kind of playboy, now you are… a murderer?! Who are you really, Andy?«

His lover demands, voice trembling lightly as the tension only rises and rises more between them. With a small step, he tries to get closer and make sure his partner isn‘t freaking out totally.

»I am not a murderer, Bell… I‘m...« There‘s a dramatic pause before he continues, taking a deep breath.

»I am Strong Guy.«

Bruce is doing his best not to laugh at his superhero name from the script, clenching his jaw and keeping up his tense glare, waiting for you to say your next line. Even his damn children tease and make of him for accepting such role, but that‘s not really a surprise.It‘s only a matter of time when he will finally crack up, having warned you prior already.

»No way. You… can‘t be. How is that possible? But Strong Guy is basically from space, right? What… have I been dating an alien the whole time?«

You are in complete shock and disbelief. At least trying to seem like it. When you wrote the script, you really had to hold yourself back from writing a better scene than this. But Hollywood is demanding and only wants to please the poor viewers who are seeing the same movie over and over again, but in a different fond every year. At least the Writer‘s Strike is almost over and other, more legendary directors can direct more original and creative movies… well, depends if the WGA and other people responsible for that will actually care about anything other than money.

»Babe, believe me, I am still me. The Andy you know from high school and the same one you fell for all those years back.« Strong Guy, Andy, uses a softer tone with you now and looks genuinely desperate not to lose his partner because of his secret identity.

Your character isn‘t strong for that matter and gives in after a few more weak attempts of arguing, before the tension eases up and you both hug each other tightly, whispering sweet nothings against the other.

Once the scene ends, you have to repeat for another four times to get it in every angle and make sure you get the best takes. By the time that‘s finished, Bruce can already feel how drained he is after the dramatic and less than poorly written scene. Don‘t get him wrong, he likes the way you tell the story, but the dialoge couldn‘t be any more cheesy and… over-cliché in his opinion. Not that he would that say to your face.

Malva approaches you with a glass of water in hand, offering it to you to cool your mind after the rather intense scene.

»I‘m counting the days, you know? When you and him become… a thing?«

She elbows your side playfully, making you almost spill your water and choke on the sip you just took.

»Mal, what the fuck!«

»Fuck! Yes, when is that going to happen?« She inquires and awaits your answer curiously, seeming dead-serious. But you know her better than that. She is most likely just teasing and tries to force another crush on you yet again.

»I‘m not going to answer the question. We barely know each other.« You mumble back finally and sip on you glass of water in attempt to hide your tiny smile, glancing towards Bruce to make sure he isn‘t secretly eavesdropping on you two.

»Look, I‘m just trying to be honest. The way he looks at you? You can‘t tell me you haven‘t noticed. He is, like… so expressive with his eyes and so dreamy...« Malva trails off and sighs out softly, making you cringe lightly beside her.

You hush her quickly once the man you are both fussing over walks by, exhaling wearily and speak to your best friend again.

»Okay, I may have lend him one of my annotated books and he probably invited me to his library to read together. Next week, or something.«

Her jaw falls almost literally to the floor as she listens to you, in disbelief and is actually speecheless for a second.

»Oh, you have to tell me about how it went! You two already look so good together on set, I can‘t imagine — « You cut her off quickly by pressing your palm against her lips, embarrassed and also noticing Bruce being dangerously near your area.

This is going to be a hell of filming and hang outs in the next few months…

◐

You knew his house was big, but… you nearly want to throw up at how big and pretty it is. If there‘s thing you can compliment him, is that he has good taste in almost everything besides coffee. What sane person likes their coffee completely black and plain?

Walking up to the big double door, you ring the bell and wait patiently. Your wait doesn‘t last long as one of the doors swings open and a rather small boy greets you with a judgemental look. That‘s surely one of his sons. Jason, probably? No, he is too old to look this young…

»Hey there. I‘m here to meet Bruce, is he here?« You greet as polite and friendly as possible, always having managed to scare off children without meaning to. Or at least babies.

»Father should be inside.«

Politely enough, the boy steps aside and lets you enter, watching you intently as you take the interior in.

Feeling a little awkward, you decide to ask. »What‘s your name, by the way?«

He narrows his eyes at you and crosses his arms, answering your questioin that was meant to be polite.

»You are not worth it to know my na —«

»Damian! I‘m sure you showed her around a little and were polite, weren‘t you?«

Bruce hurries down the stairs and approaches you both, seeming only slightly tense as he awaits his son‘s answer, running his hand through his hair.

»Of course, father...«

Damian scoffs lightly and averts his eyes away from you to the floor, seeing some similarities between him and Bruce.

The older man smiles and steps beside you, eventually paying his attention back to you.

»Sorry, this is Damian. My youngest.« He finally introduces and gestures to his son in front of you, taking him in again and nod slightly. Damian is doing a poor job in hiding his displeasure on meeting you, grumbling something under his breath as he gives you a sharp side-glance.

»Alfred said he needs some help in the garden, why don‘t you join him?« Bruce uses the code word they settled on in case Damian should be somewhere that he isn‘t welcome to and gets the message, making his way outside to the backyard.

You watch him wander off in a rather moody demeanor, feeling Bruce‘s warm hand settle between your shoulderblades.

»I hope he wasn‘t a bother while I was gone. He can get… pretty angsty at times.«

He apologises but you quickly wave it off, actually being quite amused and not bothered at all.

»No, I get it. I was just as grumpy and annoyed when I was younger, I don‘t blame him.« At your words, he raises an eyebrow while leading up ustairs with him, walking to his library.

»That‘s interesting. I could never imagine you as a grumpy teenager though, what were you like? Also throwing a tantrum for not receiving the latest comic book?«

He teases lightly but also refers to one of his kids when they were a little younger and spoiled, all to his fault.

»No, I was more of a… rebellious kind? I hated it when people wouldn‘t take me seriously and protested a lot. Over the right stuff, though! Maybe you could call it a punk phase, but I really just wanted to be taken seriously and be understood, you know?«

Bruce listened to you explain while entering the library after passing the hallway, looking to you once again with a fond expression.

»You and I may have more common in that sense, then. I also tried to prove myself to others and threw myself into… some situations. But all for the right reasons, right?«

Maybe Malva was right. You should hurry up and claim this man for yourself.

Snapping your gaze away from him, you take in the big library you are both in, it being a spacious room with tall shelfs, full with books that go up the ceiling, and some couches around in the middle to lounge on. You genuinenly haven‘t expected for him to have this whole area as a library that‘s actually filled with so many books, being literally surrounded by them.

»So? Have you got a book to read? If not, you can always lend one from here.«

He claps his hands once and walks to one of the larger couches before sitting down on it, the book you gave him from your earlier hang out in his hands.

»Oh, I came prepared, I have my own book with me.«

You answer back and take a seat beside him on the couch, taking out the book from your bag as you lean back and start to read where you left off.

He shares his last glance at you before he foccuses on his book for now, feeling joy at the small comments you left on the sides of almost every page, being content just reading in silence for now while sitting beside you.

Some time passes and you both have read quite a lot over the time-being, itching for a small break. Alfred, his butler apparently, had got you both some warm tea and cookies onto the coffee table in front of you and left after saying his usual polite words.

Tasting the cookies, you have never eaten such delicious and not overly sweet cookies before. You need to steal his recipe later and make them yourself at home. The tea is just as good, still warm and having a comforting effect on you. Bruce speaks up, his body turned more towards you on the couch as he has his arm around the back of the couch, sipping on his cup of tea.

»What do you think of your book so far?« It seems like he always asks these questions on purpose, just to hear you talk his ear off about a random topic. But you answer truthfully anyway, looking to him now as you take a break from munching on those cookies.

»I really love the way Pushkin wrote about his wife in his novels, every female character he inserts seems to be his wife and he won‘t waste any time on sweet talking everything. But his works actually represent a path from Neoclassicism through Romanticism to Realism, or whatever they say, so… I just love how easy his rhymes are in some passages and how obvious that is that he was such a hopeless romantic...«

You glance around the library as you talk, eventually trailing off and checking in to see his reaction. He leaned his head against his fist from his arm that rests on the back of the couch, eyes ever so tender and nonjudgemental. Almost loving.

»You okay?« You ask finally, unsure because of his quiet demeanor and how he just stares at you. How long has he been staring for?

»Yeah. Just wondering if you could use that mouth for more than just talking nonsense.«

Now you feel offended, no matter how much he‘s flirting with you right now.

»Nonsense? I think you just lost your mind, I never talk nonsense, especially not about my favourite writer.«

Bruce can‘t help but smile at that, glad you didn‘t react badly to what he just blurted out without actually meaning to.

»I‘m sure everything you say is logical and accurate, but I —«

»Oh, so you weren‘t listening the whole time? Why do you even bother asking me about those —«

This time, you are the one getting interrupted and he puts a gentle hand onto your knee to try and soothe you.

»Because I love the sound of your voice.«

Oh, you froze. Bruce is panicking, he never thought he would be so straightforward with his feelings towards you, but something about you just lets him let loose and be himself. It‘s almost scaring him.

But you didn‘t freeze because you were startled or shocked, but because you never expected for him to compliment you in such a genuine and nice way. And his hand on your knee is only making your case worse. As he is about to get his hand back to himself, you move closer to him and hug him as tightly as you can. Bruce stumbles slightly back into the couch because of the force of your hug, but doesn‘t waste any time on hugging you back. He is instantly relieved at your reaction, letting himself melt into the hug and rub your back lightly in return.

»Not good at taking compliments?«

You scoff at his teasing comment, leaning a little off of him to look into his eyes again.

»At least I don‘t tell people they talk ‚nonsense‘ just to compliment them later.« He rolls his eyes at your light jab, loosening his grip around you as he is unsure if you want to stay in the hug for longer or not. When you don‘t let go, he decides to follow your lead and just let you stay half on top of him with your arms wrapped around his neck. It could come off as friendly cuddling, almost, but there seems to be still some light tension between the two of you.

The fact that Bruce has invited you to his Manor to simply read together says a lot. It is well known to the media that he hasn‘t really been in a relationship, and that he doesn‘t go around dating or hooking up usually. Bruce Wayne is mostly a mysterious person to the media, talking and responding politely and patiently to the interviewers or reporters, letting his guard down only rarely among other people he doesn‘t really know.

Working together with him has shown you that he can warm up to people, especially when they share interests or just seem good-hearted. Like you.

You have shown him how coorperative and kind you are to all your staff and co-actors, he has seen some of your interviews as well. Being kind and bringing a positive message is important for you, and you‘ve made sure to show it. Either through films or other actions, you managed to let Bruce believe there is still good in this world and genuine people. You aren‘t full of money, your beliefs are similar to his in that sense.

He hasn‘t realised it yet, but his hand traces mindless circles around your back as you two stay in the hug, your own hand lightly fidgeting with the back of his shirt collar.

As time passes and you two talk about whatever, the evening rolls by quickly and it becomes dark outside, making the atmosphere more relaxing. By the time you two have talked, you both adjusted your position more, his arms still around in a way while your body is laying mostly across his lap with your head resting against his chest. You didn‘t realize how comfortable it would be to lay almost completely on him, and you‘re trying to make it last.

He uses the opportunity to talk more about himself since you didn‘t really get the chance to get to know each other that much with work. Bruce mostly talks about his sons and daughter, describing their personalities as best as he can, telling a few funny stories here and there from their younger years, knowing they would kill him if they would find out he told you about it.

It‘s endearing hearing him talk about his children, listening to him with heart eyes as you stay in his arms, melting against his chest.

His voice smooth and low, a subtle rasp to it while he eyes dart around the room from one spot to the other until they land on you from time to time. He started to play with your hair at some point, twirling some strands around his finger before letting go and starting again, his hands always busy with something.

»Did anyone ever tell you how soothing you are? Like, I never expected for you to be so calm and kind until now. What‘s with the persona for the press?«

He looks down to you and continues to play around with your hair a little, adjusting his hold on you to let you stay comfortable against his chest.

»Everyone has an online persona. Like to stay more private about my stuff.«

He shrugs lightly, letting his arms stay loosely around you. That response makes you smile, leaning up a little.

»Does that mean I‘m special?«

Bruce can‘t help but smirk at that, shifting to make you face him more.

»I guess you are, yes.«

His warm expression makes you contemplate wether or not this has something more to it, if you both just really good friends already or more. The tension in the room seems thicken, especially with how close you both are right now on the couch. The library falls into a comfortable silence again, this time with both of you staring at the other. You study his features, realising how much prettier he is from up close. From this proximity, you can barely make out the faint freckles across his cheeks, making you want to study him more and find out about all the other faint or small features he has, taking pride in seeing such details.

He also focuses on your face, the way your eyes flit around his face and are soft in the warm light of the room. His hand carefully cups your cheek, feeling the soft and warm skin under his palm. Without thinking, you lean into his hand, looking back into his eyes.

It almost feels magical and surreal how close you are to him, realising you are both about to get even closer. Your heart starts to pick up its pace, but you don‘t pull away. Bruce‘s thumb brushes against your cheekbone, his adam‘s apple bobs briefly before he leans in, seeing how willing you are to stay close and closer.

Eventually, your lips meet and it feels better than any cinematic movie could ever potray a romantic scene. The kiss lingers before you break it, but stay close, your noses barely brushing together.

He trails his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, threading his fingers into your hair.

»Please tell me you wanted this just as much as me.« His voice is quite, careful. Warm.

»Genuinely? From the moment you invited me to your library.«

He smiles at your response, freely with his perfect teeth showing. Without further discussion, he presses his lips against yours again, making sure to be gentle, as if he could break you by being too harsh.

You tremble lightly in his arms, too enrupted by the sensation of the soft kisses to care about anything else. Getting the courage, you wrap your arms more around his neck and lean more into him, making him melt from the inside and become weak for you. You could do anything to him and he would happily let you. Is it a little too early to be so trusting? Maybe. Does he care or want to waste this time with you? Fuck no.

He sighs into the kiss and leans back further into the soft couch, making you follow and press yourself further against him. It becomes overwhelming, getting to sit properly on his lap, your hands on either side of his face, his hands resting contently at your thighs. And it happens.

You can‘t help it, you want – need friction from him, and buck your hips against him, earning a low groan from him.

His grip on your thighs tightens, breath starting to get shallow the longer you kiss. At his subtle reactions, you do that again, starting to grind lightly against him, your own breath growing heavier.

Bruce feels his head spin because of you, the way you are so eager to continue, to feel him more and to get more is making him fall even more for you. The fact alone that you are willing to trust him with your body is enough to get him going more, but he hates that you are both in his library at the moment and you are both nothing official yet.

He does what he thinks is logical and wants to be the responsible from the two of you.

His hands grab onto your hips, stopping you from picking up the pace or apply more pressure against him.

»Hey, easy… easy, we have all the time in the world, just...« He sighs out, loosening his grip on your hips once you simply sit on him.

»Did I do something wrong?«

You panic and look him over to see if you hurt him or made him uncomfortable.

»No! No, no, no, you never did anything wrong, I just… I don‘t want this to be our first time.«

As soon as he drops those words, you slump your full weight on him, slightly confused and disappointed.

»I just want you to have something better than having it in my damn library. You deserve more than that. It needs to be special.«

His hands settle on your waist, his hair slightly tousled and face flushed, chest heaving lightly as he catches his breath, but still feels breathless because of you.

You stay quiet for another moment, processing his words. It‘s difficult to do so, that sight in front of you is making you feral but he doesn‘t want to do anything more because… he wants to treat you better?

Now you are really starting to wonder if he is real. There is no way someone would be nice enough to actually stop making out before it escalates, just because he wants to make it special in another time.

»Oh… okay, then. I won‘t force you anyway.«

You shrug lightly, feeling disappointed. But you would hate to force him to something more. Bruce seems glad you agree on it so easily and lets his hands trail up and down your sides more until he sets you down beside him, a shit-eating grin on his face.

»Sorry for cock-blocking you, dear.«

He murmurs into your ear, making you flush and groan, elbowing his side annoyed; all the while he laughs amused.

←MASTERLIST

a/n: let me know what you think about it, hope you enjoyed it!

[nescaveckwriter]

Stethoscopes & Triangles - Chapter Five 💕

A/N: OMW😱😱😱... My nerves are shot, this is an intense chapter, get some popcorn and maybe anxiety meds😂(just joking).. so sit back and enjoy. 💕

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language, angst, heartbreak, mention of death, hard scenes, terror , bombs , anything else I missed let me know💕

Characters: Sam Winchester, Amy Summers, Cas Paul Summers, Dean Winchester.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:3310😅

Chapter Five 🤩

The clock on the wall, strikes seven, the large man sits at his desk, the office is quiet as all the other people has gone home too their loved ones, his usual put together look, is now signs of a stressed man, his eyes darker and tired as he darts across the stack of papers in front of him, his tie loosened, the first few buttons of his light blue shirt is undone, he's eyebrows furrowed, as he tried to see if his taken care of all the evidence, all the witnesses, since Paul Summers left he had this dreadful feeling, something is going to happen, but he just can't put his finger on it, no matter how long it takes he will figure it out tonight, nothing is going to distract him, with that thought he puts his phone on silent.

Her first day back was exhausting to say the least, she was literally dead on her feet, pretty sure, she had to deal with more patients today on her first day back, than in her entire career. Okay, maybe that's not entirely true, but still, it's how she felt… Well luckily, it's the end of her shift, so she can go home. As she wàlked through the doors, she remembered what happened between her and Sam. Her heart sank, he hadn't even called or texted her. Then it must be true, he found another one to love. Feeling her phone vibrating, smiling slightly now, thinking it's Sam… 

“Hello” sounds hopeful 

“Hello sweetie” hearing her father's voice has always made her feel somewhere between happy and stressed.

“Oh hello dad”

"Expecting someone else honey?”

“It's okay, can I help with something?”

“Just want to know if you are finished at work?”

“Yes I am dad, why do you ask?”

“Oh! Just wanted to find out if I could come over for dinner?”

“Uhm… dad, I … well tonight's not a good night, I’m a little tired”

“Oh it’s okay, we can make it another night then, are you taking the subway again?” she could’ve sworn she heard her father chuckle.

“Thanks for understanding dad, and yes I am”

He stayed quiet, then his voice got softer. “Sweetie do you still remember how I’d take you on the subway, while you were still a small little girl, - I miss those”

Smiling, remembering, those were the days, where her father was still so kind, sweet and loving.. “Yes dad, I miss those days as well, we should do it again some time.”

His voice returned to the normal cold tone “Yes! I have to go now, good bye”

Before she could even respond he ended the call. Shaking her head while holding the phone in her hand, her fingers instinctively scrolls through her phone, pressing on the dial icon, Sam,  a picture of him, comes on the screen, but it just keeps ringing, and ringing, till eventually, she hears his professional voice “You’ve reached Sam Winchester, call the office, or leave a message” feeling the burning pressure behind her eyes, as she puts the phone in and walk into the subway.

Taking in her usual spot, popping in her earbuds, listening to Patsy Cline, something she always did, whenever she felt sad, it’s like that woman knows exactly what broken-hearted people go through, she softly hums, with the music.

Taking a sip of the bottle of bourbon covered with the brown paper bag, he’s eyes moves around the people, well that is until he spots her, she’s out of her scrubs, and now she’s wearing a tracksuit, her hair tied up in a messy bun, he moves closer without her noticing, he listens to her humming, he couldn't hold in his frustration. “Oh hell no, Patsy Cline, are you for real” 

She looks up into his emerald green eyes, “What is your problem?” 

He smirks “My problem is Patsy Cline Doctor, it’s so damn sad”

Irritation in her voice “Well I can’t help that you don’t have taste in music, so move along, if my music bothers you so much”

A mischievous grin on his perfect face “Bite me! I’m just saying at least Led Zeppelin gives you a little beat, don’t you think?” he lets out a little chuckle “you probably don’t even know who he is”

She glares at him, “I know exactly who he is, I love Classic Rock ‘n Roll, but unlike you, I have interest in various genres.”

“Oh, I got to say I’m shocked, that someone like you can have such good taste?”

Her blue eyes piercing his “Dean is it?”

He just simply nods, with a mischievous smirk, 

“Well Dean, what exactly does ‘someone like you’ mean?” she said, air quoteting.

He laughs a little bit, and for a second she could feel her heart flutter.

His green eyes scan’s her whole body, but falls on her heart shaped lips, unconsciously he wets his lips, leaning a little forward, he whispers in her ear, “Someone as uptight as you”

She could smell the bourbon on his breath, She pushed him back, folding her arms in front of her “Me uptight? I’m not uptight! I’m professional, there’s a difference!”

A flirty grin spreads across his lips “So you wanna tell me that you can have fun?”

All of a sudden a loud bang can be heard, the earth is shaking underneath their feet, people are screaming, crying, they plunged into total darkness, there were spine chilling screams coming from every corner, after another big exploding sound it was dead silent, not a single sound could be heard.

The voice on the end of the phone call sounds bitter and cold, so cold, “Is it done?”

“Yes Mr. Summers it’s done, that little subway bombs ought to keep that damn lawyer busy, and the other first responders, I’ll start finding the witnesses”

“Good, now do your damn work!’ He shouted. As he ends the call, he watches out of his office window, in the distance you can see smoke, knowing it came from the subway’s direction, a smile crept on his hard and cold face, knowing he will get out of the charges once again, pity his only daughter had to die, but at least he will carry on like usual, like the well known, kind businessman, everybody loves, and his campaign to run for mayor, will carry on and even become more popular. After a moment of silence, he laughs, the people of this town will feel so sorry for him, after losing his loving daughter in a subway explosion. 

There’s a dim light flickering in the distance, as she opens her eyes more, feeling disorientated and a little hazy, feeling an intense weight on her, trying to access whatever it could be she realises it’s Dean, he must’ve tried to cover her from getting hurt, his wrapped in a protective, sheltering way over her, her voice hoarse “D…Dean, hey wake up please” she can feel his swallow breathing on her face.

His eyes slowly opened, the first thing he laid his eyes on was Dr. Summers “Damn you okay?”

A smile crept on her lips, “I mean I will be if you get off of me!”

“Oh sorry, I.. I just tried, nevermind!” he pushes onto the floor lifting his body off of her, when he is standing he gently helps her up too. She gets up, her body hurts, her blue eyes frightened when she glances at the sight in front of her, there’s people laying all over, hurt, the distraught looks on their faces, the little children clinging to their parents, her voice almost breaking “We need to help them get out of here” turning to face Dean.

Dean stares directly into her ocean blue eyes, for a second he sees past her strong demeanour, there’s so much compassion, he just nods his head, “I agree” 

The both of them, try to access the situation, helping those who isn’t as injured to a place with little to no debris, her heart breaks when she comes too a mother and her little boy, the woman doesn’t have a pulse, but the little boy with tears in his eyes, just clings to his deceased mother, not wanting to let her go. “Hey Sweetie” , his big eyes just stare at her. She kneels down to pick him up, but he just screams and cries, “I know, sweetie, I know, but mommy is going to stay there for a little while okay” she tries to calm him down, knowing this must be so overwhelming for him. She hands him to another older woman, too look after as she checks on the other people. 

Dean walks towards her, “I think I see a way out of here, we can get the people through that entrance” pointing his finger towards a small opening, that was once the entrance to the subway.

“Okay, let’s get these people out of here” both of them get to work, she helps the wounded to the best she can, and Dean tries to get something to force the door open, so he can get closer to the entrance, find a way to secure it.

Sam’s hand reaches for the coffee mug, bringing it closer to his lips, then staring down at the empty mug, cussing underneath his breath. For the first time that evening he gets us from the table, walking into the kitchen, wanting some coffee, something in the distance out the window, catches his eyes, there’s smoke everywhere, he opens the window, the sounds of the sirens came crashing down like waves, realising the smoke is coming from the direction of the subway.He’s feet didn’t move fast enough, he reached for his phone, he needs to know if Amy is home already or if she.. Shaking his head, he can’t think about that now, he takes his phone in his hand, seeing a missed call from Amy about three hours ago, holding in his breath. He calls her back, it just keeps ringing… until he hears her voice, ‘Hey this is Amy, you know what to do’, he throws the phone down, Pressing his palms against the table. “Dammit, Dammit” running his hands over his face, whispering underneath his breath ”please let her be home, please”, he grabs his keys, leaving the files just spayed open on the table, he runs towards his car, he needs to drive home, he needs to find Amy there, she just needs to be okay. His stuck in a whirlwind of emotions, it feels like he can’t breath, but at the same time, like his heart is racing, The traffic is a mess, as he tries his best too get to their apartment, “please let her be there” he says, as his hands clenched the steering wheel, his knuckle’s white. 

She heard Dean laughing, and to be honest it sounded like a melody, looking over at him, she could tell that he got the door open, after a lot of force, Dean called her over, as she starts to walk towards him, she started to feel a little light headed, but just shakes it off, their currently running on adrenaline, so for now, she can’t feel the pain. “Yeah?”

There was excitement in his eyes “We did it, we can get out of the subway car, then lead the people to the entrance, we’ll figure something out when we get there, what do you say, can we start helping the people out?”

Smiling “Hell yeah, let’s get these people to safety” they didn’t waste any more time, as a matter of fact they started with the older people, then the middle aged adults, finally the children. She took one last glance at the wreckage, taking in a deep breath then giving her hand to Dean as he helped her out, he got out as well. All of them, about thirty people, laugh as they just got out of that, but it’s short lived as they feel the trembling of the floor, she tries to grab onto something, but nothing, that’s when she felt, strong, muscular arms snaking around her waist, glancing up, her eyes caught his emerald green eyes once again, just mouthing a “thank you”, the trembling stops.

A large man, started to shout “All of us are going to die down here” Dean removes his arms from Amy’s waist, walks up to him, his face is angered, his voice low, almost like a growl “You listen to me, stop saying shit like that, your scaring the people, we will get out of here” the man grabs Dean by his shirt, shouting “who put you in charge?”

Dean gives him a sort of devilish smirk “Stop touching me, or the medics will have to carry your beaten up ass out of here” the man puts his hands in the air “alright buddy, no need to be so uptight” Dean turns around, walks towards the entrance of the tunnel, he inspects it, then his voice got a little louder, “Alright I need all of us too work together, we can remove some off these broken off concrete blocks and then we will get a way out of here, who is willing to help me move some of these?” A lot of passengers went up too help and Amy rushed over too the pregnant woman they helped out, as she was whining, “What’s wrong Miss?” sounding concerned. 

The woman looked at her, her voice shaky. “I….I think my contractions started” Amy smiled at her, “I take it’s not your first?” the woman answered “No, it’s my fifth”, Amy places her down, removing her tracksuit jacket, placing it underneath her head as she laid down the woman, taking her pulse, then speaking in a very calming voice “Alright your pulse is a little elevated, but under the circumstance, I’d that’s pretty normal” she lets out a little laugh “we will have to check and see how far the contractions are but, I’ll say we will get you out of here, before the little one, gets born, okay?” The woman smiles faintly, “thank you”.

His hand shakes as he places the key in the lock, something tells him Amy isn’t home, but he needs it to not be true, he just wants to hold her close to him. The door screeches open, the whole apartment is dark, except for the microwave’s that is still left on the 30 seconds timer, of the milk Amy warmed for her coffee that morning. Not even bothering to switch on the lights, he knew, deep down he knew she’s not there, he pulled the chair out, placing his phone on the kitchen table, he stared at the timer, he felt numb, his mind blank and racing at the same time, is the love of his life really gone? Did she die thinking that he cheated on her, that he didn’t love her, that can’t be further from the truth. The saltwater behind his eyes started to burn, he tried to gulp down his feelings and emotions, but the more his mind raced, the worse it got, threatening to burst. The ringing of the phone scared the shit out of him, grabbing it, “Hello” he sounded distant, defeated.

“Sam? I’m at the explosion site, we are getting passengers out, Amy is alive, some of the passengers told us that she helped them” Cas sounded hopeful, excited even, he knew Sam would be worried sick!

He couldn’t believe what he heard, his Amy, is still alive, helping passengers, of course she is, “thank you, I’m coming” he said, grabbing his keys, his feet barely touching the ground, running towards his car, he needed to get there, see for himself, when Amy gets out, to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loves her.

Dean and Amy helped the passengers one for one out, they felt so overjoyed, they’re getting out of here, they're going to make it, all of them are. With only ten more people and the two of them that needed to go through, they were hopeful, the ending was near.

The man, walked right into Sam’s office, flashlight in hand, baklava covering his face, he needed to find the safe, break in, and find the documents, he was looking for the hidden safe, but low and behold, everything he needed was displayed on the table,, “this was so easy” he laughed to himself.

Gathering all the evidence and then taking the lighter fluid from his backpack, throwing it everywhere, as he walked out, he took the match and threw it into the office, watching the flame grow bigger and bigger, laughing, his boss Mr. Summers will most probably give him a little bonus. He walked out of the office, the papers in hand, and a determination to get these witnesses and hand them over to the fixer John.

The sight of the ambulances, fire trucks, cop cars, standing around, was just one too much to bear, as he got out he could see the hurt people, getting treated. He ran towards Cas, needed to find out some more information, of where Amy is.

Dean picked up the pregnant women gently, carried her to the opening, placed her on the backboard that was hoisted down, he and Amy made sure to strap her in tightly, Amy smiled “told you we would get you out of here” the woman stated to cry, “Thank you, Amy, Dean… I’m going to call my little girl ‘Amy-Deana’ to always remember what you two did for us” both of them smiled and chuckled a bit, “We’d be honoured” his gruff voice sounded joyful. “See you at the hospital,” Amy smiled. Dean tucked on the rope, letting them know they can pull her back up.

For a couple of seconds, there was this emotional, heartfelt stare between the two of them. It might’ve been the adrenaline, maybe the fear, but they were drawn to each other like a magnet, like two souls who were lost at sea, like two stars shining brightly, despite the darkness around them. The stare spoke deeper than any words ever could, it was a silent conversation between two strangers who grew closer in such a short while, their eyes filled with a million questions, and her heart this intense amount of guilt. She quickly looked away, the quilt eating her up, she had Sam, how can she feel like this towards a stranger. Dean’s voice snapping her back to reality.

Holding out his hand “Come on Amy, let's go home” his green eyes were filled with hope, as she took his hand, smiling her voice was soft “Thank you”.

He pulled her closer to him, glancing in her eyes, he was tempted to kiss her right then and there, but he didn’t, instead he said “you are one hell of a doctor Amy” she tried to still her racing heart, being this close to him, she smiled “and you… has gotten us out of this” 

The earth underneath their feet shook, he instantly wrapped his arms around her, there were this loud rushing piercing sound coming from the other tunnels, the feeling of pressure of the sound waves were getting louder and louder as the thousand gallons water came flooding towards them, their face was fear stricken, their breaths was short and rapid, their hearts pounding. They had nowhere to go, they clung to each other, knowing this could be the end, Then the gallons of water came, hitting their bodies like, tremendous hammer blows, with every drop it tried tearing them apart, the water came crashing down on them from all directions, knocking them off their feet, they were tossed around like ragdolls, with no sense of direction or control or a way out.

@jackles010378 @k-slla @angelbabyyy99 @winchesterwild78 @cutedisneygrl

[princessofprocrastination]

Not The Same (GeorgeNotFound)

summary : you put out a song, but it attracted the wrong type of crowd and caused too many misunderstandings.

trigger warnings : threats (including death and doxing), panic attacks, taking of meds. 

"you're THOSE type of fans, huh?" you read the comments on your newest song release.

and that was the start of your downfall.

-

you and your dad really enjoyed singing. at any opportunity you two got, you would be doing a duet.

whether that would be at at a close relative's wedding or your at home karaoke set up, you two knew how to entertain people.

though singing was your passion, you ended up being too busy with school and trying to graduate with a diploma to even think about singing again.

but you swore to make a career of your singing after high school. you just loved it too much.

but then, you didn't go to college for music, which pretty much shocked your parents and your friends since they knew your only passion in life was singing.

but you took a different direction. you still wanted to sing and you were trying your hardest to find a way to make that your career.

someday, anyway. but you needed to have a plan to fall back into in case anything goes wrong.

you were a realist, after all.

so off to college you went.

you spent long hours studying for tests after tests, sat through hours of lectures, did endless amounts of projects.

in the end, it was all worth the wait and fatigue. you graduated top of your class.

you went off to be an intern, clocked in more hours before you could fully go into the next phase of your life.

and after those long hours, you finally made the decision (with the support of your parents) to take a gap year.

but before anyone panics. your gap year was not all fun in games where you took to rest and lay in bed all day.

you took the gap year to see if the music industry fits you. to see if you even had the chance to succeed.

and if it did, you could finally have your dream job. but even if it didn't you were not going to be upset if you needed to fall back onto your backup plan.

in the duration of the gap year, you took voice lessons, and poetry classes for song writing.

and with whatever you have learnt, you took that into writing songs that you felt really relate to your life experiences.

so you spend at least a couple months writing multiple songs.

after almost 2 years, you finally came out with your first song. and it definitely got recognition. more than you thought you'd get, if you were being completely honest.

and that was what pushed you to sit your ass back on your desk to write more, and go into your makeshift studio and make the words into songs.

your parents were ecstatic to hear that you were finally doing the things you loved. and you knew you'd never get this far if it weren't for your family's support.

and so your music journey began.

it was going well for years. you were finally happy doing the one thing you enjoyed doing.

and you definitely think you were good at it. seeing and hearing the positive feedbacks from your family, friends and listeners. 

you felt good. 

but you lost that feeling when you came out with a new single, called ‘fan of you’. 

you spent a while working hard on that song and you felt relieved when it was finally released. it was like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. 

and you weren’t sure how one thing led to another, if you were being honest. at first, you received good feedback for your new songs. you even gained new listeners and your spotify rank rised. 

but then it didn’t anymore. 

your twitter flooded with mentions and your instagram full of tagged pictures and dms by accounts you’ve never heard of. 

but you noticed a similarity with all of the spam. a guy name george. georgenotfound for short.

you being you, you looked into it. and that was when all of the information hit you. and all you had to look up was your name on twitter, and there it was, the longest thread of tweets you have ever seen in your life. 

you took time to read it all, trying to make sure you didn’t miss anything crucial. 

there must be an understanding. you didn’t know this guy name george. you’ve seen his face on pinterest once a while when you scrolled, yes. but you never looked into him. 

this amazing person took their time to gather every bit of information there was about the scandal, which you were grateful for, or else you’d be scouring the internet for hours. 

to summarise what you read, there was this artist by the name of tia jade who came out with a song a few months prior to yours called ‘just a fan.’ 

it was a good song, some say, and you could agree. it was professionally written and produced. but many fans of george found out that the song was about him. 

not just about him, but about her falling in love with him, when she has never met him. and when his fans started to really listen and analyse the song, it got creepier. 

basically, the song was about a fan falling in love with a celebrity/content creator and that they want to know them beyond their persona online. 

but tia had apologised a little after the song came out, saying that she made that song based on a fan liking a content creator, and not about her falling for george. 

but when you read enough of the issue, it definitely did seem like she was making that song to tell her story about falling for george. but she obviously needed an excuse to cover it up. 

hence the apology. 

and then you read about how they analysed your song, too.

they compared your song to tia’s and found it to have similar stories. stories about how a normal girl is falling in love with the man by the name of george, who had millions of followers on all social medias. 

and if you admitted it to yourself, your song did seem to come out that way. especially if your mentality had been there. clearly your song could have been interpreted in many different ways. 

you scrolled to the very bottom of the thread where there was a video of the man himself, george. he was addressing the issue. 

“i don’t know how this happened twice. i thought once was weird enough, but.” he paused, focusing on building something on his screen. 

“having heard of a song being about me again now makes my skin crawl.” he finished. it was short but enough to make his fans understand where he was coming from. 

you scrolled further to see the replies of the thread. you wanted to know what were people saying about it. 

and you definitely regretted your decision to do that. 

threats everywhere. death threats, threats of beating you up, threats of doxing you. god the negative comments were drowned by the one’s that genuinely thought nothing wrong of your song. 

you called you mom. this was the time you needed her advice. you needed to be told what to do. you didn’t want to accidentally trigger people. 

you and her were on the phone for hours. she listened to you cried to her. she heard the painful sobs that came out of your mouth whenever you reminded yourself of what people were calling you on the internet. 

she heard you cry silently on call when you saw your address and phone number being leaked on twitter. 

but even through all of that, you joked around with your mom. “well, this was a hell of a way to be trending.” 

you did what she told you to do. get a new phone number, stay in a hotel for a couple days while you try to settle the raging crowd of georgenotfound fans down. 

in the span of a couple weeks, you got yourself a new number, a new house and a new car. you weren’t taking any chances. 

you told no one besides your mom of the new changes, just to be safe. 

and no, the threats did not cease. at all. these people did not have a life, constantly up in your dms, telling you to jump off a cliff or them hoping that a robber stabs you and leaves you dying. 

you took your time trying to figure out a way to talk to george. or a way to speak out about this. 

you didn’t want to write a half-assed notes app paragraph apologising when- first of all, you had nothing to apologise for and second, you had too much to say to fit it all in a notes app. 

lucky for you, you didn’t need to start your own channel or make a sit down video on your own. 

your recording label had brought up the idea of a documented series about you and how you became a singer about a year ago, and only started filming and posting the episodes a couple months prior on youtube. 

so you took the series to your advantage. you pitched in the idea to your manager, to which she agreed to immediately, knowing that it was best you talked about it now. 

this was how it played out on the perspective of viewers who watched that episode. 

“bless you.” your producer says after you paused your singing in the mic as you stopped to sneeze. 

you gave him a smile and a thumbs up from inside the booth. 

the camera cuts to another clip. 

the cameraman pans as they captured movers coming in and out of your old house, picking up your heavy furniture and boxes into large trucks to move into the new place.

 it cuts again. this time it shows you scrolling on your phone with a focused face while your manager types something vigorously on her computer. 

the camera tries to focus on your phone, and sees that you were on twitter, reading a lot of tweets under your name. 

you exited the app and slide it away, going into youtube next, reading the comments on your song ‘fan of you’. 

you scrolled far, clicking on some of the comments, trying to read the replies to certain comments you saw. 

the camera cuts into a black screen. which then cuts again into a new scene, where you sat on your new kitchen counter talking to your mother, who sat on the chair in front of you. 

your hair was up in a ponytail. a messy one. you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie that seemed far too big on you, and your feet covered with fluffy socks.

you were nodding to whatever she was saying to you. it was clear your mind was elsewhere as your eyes were unfocused. 

the scene cuts again. 

you were seen on the couch, your legs were tucked into your arms and your head down, body shaking. it was obvious you were crying. 

you were alone, your mother no where to be seen. 

that was the first time the camera caught you crying. 

the scene cuts as you were going to get up from the couch. 

now, you were in the kitchen again, opening the refrigerator to take a water bottle, then walking to your room upstairs. 

the camera follows behind you slowly into your room. 

it hadn’t been the cleanest. there were a couple shirts on the floor, your bed undone, cups on your side table, your laptop open on your desk. 

you were seen opening a drawer, taking out a small white bottle. you unscrewed the bottle and took out 2 pills, popping them in your mouth, drinking water straight away after that to swallow. 

the scene cuts again. 

this time, you were seated on the couch in the studio, the atmosphere dark and quiet. 

your hair was more kept this time, being help up in a clip. 

you were wearing straight jeans and a slightly oversized sweatshirt. you looked more refreshed this time. but it was obvious you hadn’t slept in a while because of your eyes.

your eyes that usually held a lot of happiness and joy turned dull. 

“it’s been a while since i’ve spoken to a camera.” you offered a small smile. your song ‘just a fan’ was playing in the background of the clip. 

the scene cuts again. 

“when i released that song, i was genuinely proud of the work i had done.” you paused for a while. besides the song playing in the background, it was silent. 

“but i guess the joy didn’t last very long.” the scene cuts there. 

it transitioned to a collage of what people were saying about you. it showed clips of people talking about it on youtube. they even showed george talking about it. 

and it cuts again. 

it showed a different clip this time. a clip of your ex boyfriend and you at the beach on a picnic, that was taken by a close friend of yours. 

this was when you were still in college. 

it showed all the fun memories you two made while you were still together. 

it showed a video of him studying in the library, flipping through his papers and scrolling through his laptop. it was clear he was hard at work, not noticing you filming him. 

but then the scene cuts again. and the music turned somber. 

your ex boyfriend’s grave. 

it was the day you were visiting him. you sat down next to his stone, a blanket under you. 

you were just staring at his stone, not moving. 

and it cuts again. 

“he was one of the most driven person i have ever met.” you told the camera. 

“he knew when to be serious and when to have fun.” you looked down in your hands and played with your rings. 

“all he ever talked about was becoming a surgeon. he worked hard in his intern years and continued being passionate through his residency.” you spoke up. 

“people had only nice things to say about him. the only bad thing they would say about him is that he can be pretty uptight sometimes, especially when he was stressed about something.” you laughed a little. 

“i was a huge fan of him, even when we just saw each other in the hallways. he’s just amazing. i’ve always wanted to be just like him.”

“i wanted to write a song about him but i didn’t the song to be sad.” you said. 

“and that was when the song ‘fan of you’ was created. 

the scene cuts there and goes into another. 

you were in the recording booth again, this time, you were singing into the mic. 

the camera pans to your producer and manager dancing and bobbing their heads to the beat. 

the scene cuts, officially ending it with a black screen with ‘the end’ in a fancy white font. 

you busied yourself with writing new songs as your name got trended again on twitter. 

and george has never felt worse about himself ever in his entire life. 

-

he watched the episode as soon as dream sent it to him. 

“you’re an asshole, george.” dream sends to him, along with the link of the video on youtube. 

as the video ends, he decides to read the comments, wondering what it was like down there. 

it was the worse mistake he had ever made in a while. 

but he knew he deserved it. he did assumed it was about him, just like the last song made with a drawing of his glasses as their cover photo on spotify. 

this time, there was genuinely no reason to think that this song was about him, or anyone with a following whatsoever. he just believed what his chat told him. 

sure, there were some familiarity of the character in your song and him, but the world did have 7.6 billion people living on it. 

“so, here i am apologising.” george says to his camera, live. his tone was very sincere and apologetic. 

“this shouldn’t have gotten this far. they shouldn’t have gotten threats at all, let alone death threats. they shouldn’t have woken up to the world knowing where they live and what their phone number is.” 

“and if you’re watching. i sincerely apologise. i clearly was full of myself.” george finishes. ending the live with a small wave. 

and were you watching? hell yes. 

and that was the day the two of you followed each other on instagram. 

he used your songs as his intros of his live, (with your permission, of course.) you showed in your documentary that you were watching whenever he was live or watching his youtube videos. 

and that was the start to a beautiful relationship. 

you sat on the chair, going live. you waved as people started joining. it went from hundreds, to thousands in seconds. 

as you were talking and clicking on your keyboard and mouse, playing a game, you felt arms around your shoulders. 

you smiled, yet continued playing. 

“why are you live on my account?” he laughs. 

you disconnected the headphones so that he could hear what you were hearing. 

“george, you’re being replaced.” dream said on discord. 

george smiles, giving you a kiss on the top of your head. “that was well deserved.” 

[twinklelilstarkey]

Could you do fluffy 2 with Frederik Andersen?? If you don’t write for him could you do it with Matthew Tkachuk

“Breakfast in bed?” - Frederik Andersen 

A/N: OF COURSE I CAN!!! I LOVE MY BABY FREDDIE.

Yesterday's game was just amazing. It might be slightly biased for you to say such things but Freddie, your boyfriend, never fails to amaze you.

It might be because you know how much and how hard he works, as well as how much pressure he puts himself under, but every time he does good or even just slightly good, you feel like you will blow up with proudness.

Frederik knows that too. It might be the big smile on your face or the big hug you pull him in when he steps out of the locker room before press, but he knows it.

But even though the night was spectacular, both the celebrations with the team and all questions he had to answer for the press, stretched out to hours that made you two, who woke up early, feel like you were constantly passing out on the way home. 

As soon as Freddie hit the bed, he was out like a light. He didn't even bother to pull the covers over himself. He literally stripped down his suit on the way down the hallway and dived onto the mattress. While you, on the other hand, had a little bit more energy than him, so you were able to put the laundry in the basket and do your night routine with no problem.

When sitting on the bed, you helped Freddie actually lay correctly on the bed and not as diagonally, threw the covers over him, and reclaimed your pillow.

Soon after turning off the lights and snuggling into the man that is sleeping like a total rock, you also fell asleep.

Now, you're living the bliss of waking up without an alarm on a Saturday - or, in other words, a day without work for you - and a day off for Freddie.

For some unknown reason, he is sleeping closer to your side of the bed again. When you first woke up his head was over your chest, using you as his pillow, and now, while you scroll through your phone and wait for him to wake up, his face is snuggled close to your neck.

His breath is somewhat ticklish against your skin, as well as his beard, but you, to be quite honest, could do this all day any day.

With a hand playing on the hair of the back of his head, and another gripping your phone, you stare at every picture in your Pinterest feed.

You've been thinking about all the things you could do to celebrate, in some cute way, how amazing your boyfriend did, but you seem to not have any ideas. 

That is until you see a certain picture in your feed.

A picture of a tray with all sorts of cut fruit, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a lot more stuff. Also with some mugs with coffee and fancy glasses with juice.

That’s when it hit you. You could make Freddie breakfast in bed! Sure, it wouldn't look as good as the picture, but you can always try. 

You lock your phone and put it down on your nightstand. 

Here goes nothing.

Carefully, you unwrap Freddie off you. His arms first and then his leg. And slowly you're able to move away, sit, and get up from bed.

A quick trip to the bathroom later, you run down to the kitchen and start pulling everything out of the cabinets.

You have a big mission, you have to work fast and silently. So, no music to motivate you to move faster, and no quick movements so your clumsy self doesn't let something as loud as a pan fall.

As soon as the pancakes were in the pan, you started taking care of the fruit, taking it out of the fridge, and putting it down on the counter. You multitasked your way through the kitchen, cutting fruit and running off to the side to flip the pancakes.

Strangely, or funny, enough, what took you longer to do was choose the right plate, bowls, and glasses. All because you wanted everything to be as visibly pleasing as delicious.

When everything is ready, you decide to run up to the bedroom to go wake up Freddie, so he can eat and, you know, so you can create some suspense for the big surprise.

You walk in the room and surprisingly, he’s awake, sitting up while leaning against the headboard of the bed while scrolling through his phone. And as you stand upright by the doorway, his eyes lift and his smile appears.

“Morning.” He says, voice sounding slightly deeper than normal, probably from sleeping.

“Good morning.”

You walk over to the bed, mimicking his smile and you take a seat beside him, facing him.

“Are you hungry, by any chance?” You ask and he locks his phone, throwing it to the side so he can give you his own attention.

“Yeah...?” He answers with a slightly confused tone, “Why?”

“Stay here.” You tell him before rising back on your feet.

Frederik watches you walk back out of the room with a slight scowl over his features and in a matter of a minute, you come back, but this time, with a tray over your hands.

“Breakfast in bed?”

You smile at his exciting tone and give him a short nod while putting the tray over the bed’s duvet, close to him. You look back up at Freddie, who is now sitting upright, and his eyes widen at the delicious-looking food.

“Does it look good?” You ask, a little timidly.

“Fuck yeah it does.”

A smile comes back to you as you hear his words and you walk around the bed, taking a seat where you were previously sleeping.

You continue to look at your boyfriend as he takes it all in and slowly reaches for the fork. Freddie feels shocked as his heart tightens with the beautiful and amazing-looking food.

Before he can take his first bite, he stops bringing his fork up to his mouth to look at you.

"Have you eaten?" He asks you and you frown slightly.

"No... Well, kinda. Ate some bits and pieces while I was making it for you." You say, letting your frown smooth, "Since, you know, the first pancake is always horrendous."

He smiles and even chuckles a little at your words and brings his fork up to you.

"This breakfast is for you, Freddie. You're the one that deserves it." You say and he still doesn't take his fork away.

"Why?"

"Because of your game yesterday. You did amazing and I didn't have time to congratulate you enough."

He smiles widely at your words.

"Well, we can share the breakfast." He stops for a second, "You also were amazing at doing it. See this as my way to congratulate you."

"For making breakfast?" You ask with a playful tone.

"More for not burning down the house or cutting yourself while doing it."

You gasp dramatically at his words and his smile reappears, finding amusement in your shock. And exactly when you try to talk again, Freddie shoves the fork into your mouth.

He pulls the now clean and 'foodless' fork away and cuts a bit for himself.

"Good?" He asks you as you start chewing on the syrupy bit of pancake.

You give him a nod and he takes his first bite. As he starts chewing, his eyes almost pop out of his face and he drifts his gaze back to you in shock.

"What?" You ask, a little bit alarmed.

"I'm in heaven."

Hope you liked this!

[sweetsbfreex]

you’re amazing, don’t worry

A few days before you were laying in bed. Harry laid on his back, while you were on your side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder and your head on his chest. Watching the television displayed on the wall. 

“Can we talk about something before we both doze off?” he asked quietly, his arm going lazily up and down your arm. 

“Sure” you replied sitting up, crossing your legs. While Harry also sat up, pausing the tv too. 

“I know we’ve talked about it a few times, but I think we should go public” he said quickly, which is something when you’re speaking about Harry.

“You- you wanna go public, like let everyone know we’re dating?”

“Yeah I mean, you know the movie premiere is this weekend and I really want to walk the red carpet with you by me” he stated, reaching for your hand in the midst of it. 

“H-”

“I know, I know baby, but I think this could be the perfect time. We can get it over with” he said shuffling closer “I could finally show my girl off to everyone hm?” placing his palm on your cheek, thumb grazing the apex of your cheek. 

You loved Harry; you really did. He is your person, but you just weren’t sure about this. Having to put up with your social anxiety, big events, crowded places, and new people just weren’t your thing. You remember the first time you had met the band, a fidgeting mess, was all you were. 

The door opened to his studio, a smiling, giddy Harry on the other side. You however, were the complete opposite. Your stomach was a mess and your fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting with the rings on your fingers or the necklace around your neck.

Harry could see from the doorway, pulling you into a bone crushing hug (letting the door close behind him) filled with love, whispering into your ears words to affirm you. “Hi, you’re amazing, don't worry,” he said kissing, your lips.

You smiled up at him showing your thanks, clasping your hands together “Thank you...Oh also can you let the lady in the front office know I said good morning back, my voice just wouldn’t project,” you whispered the last part, earning a chuckle from Harry. 

“Yes I'll do it, you about ready to meet everyone” he asked, looking down at you, concern displayed on his face from the way his eyebrows furrowed together. 

“Can we just stand out here for a bit” you asked. 

“Of course, just let me know when you’re ready. I promise they're not as bad as I make them seem” he says grinning, as he brings his hands put to clasp your face, setting kisses to your forehead. 

When you were finally ready, Harry opened the door, your hand holding onto his tightly, as you trailed behind him. 

‘Am I walking funnily? No you’re fine just don't trip or anything’ you tell yourself, breathing a deep breath in holding it and letting it go. 

“Lads this is y/n!” he pronounced elatedly, stepping to the side so you would be in view, looking down at you tranquil. You could see, looking back a thin briefly the crinkles around his eyes were striking and his dimples deep. 

“baby, this is Mitch, Sarah, you already know Jeff, Ny Oh, Adam, and Charlotte”. You knew Mitch was a man of not many words, so you weren’t too worried about conversing with him.

‘don't sound stupid, don't sound stupid, don't sound...’

A variety of heys were thrown at you from everybody in, you squeaked out a hi hoping everyone had heard and a wave. 

Harry had then pulled you both to sit down in one of the free spaces of the couches resting against the walls of the studio. 

“So y/n, H says your interning at Pinterest, that’s really cool” Sarah says

“Oh yea..Uh, I just look at a bunch of numbers and statistics, nothing too fun” you say, your voice wavering. But inside you could swear your heart was doing cartwheels when you had realized Harry talks about you to his friends. 

“I don't think it’s boring, she’s brilliant, she looks at all these gigantic numbers and comes up with these summaries, it’s amazing” Harry parades, wrapping his arm around your torso.

“Thank you H” you murmur, your cheeks heating up. 

As the time continued before you had to go. There was a lot of Harry intervening because you weren’t really sure what to ask or say, too on the fence of not embarrassing yourself in front of his friends, but luckily as time went on things had gotten better, to the point you didn’t break down before hanging out with any of them. 

“But all those people bub and the cameras, I don’t know, my anxie-”

“I know I can’t control it, but I’ll be there with you the whole time. You don’t even have to tell me your answer right now, whenever you’re ready okay?”

“Yea, thank you” you say. Getting up to stand on your knees, pulling Harry into a hug. A breath of relief coursing all over you. 

“You don’t have to thank me, petal, just want you comfortable”

                                                          -

Now here you were getting ready for the event, sporting a beautiful black dress that had an ascending slit running up the side of the dress. 

“You look beautiful, angel” harry gushed walking over to you, taking your hand as he guided you to do a quick twirl “very easy on the eyes” using that same hand to stop your twirl and instead pull you into him, stationing his second on the curve of your ass. 

“Are you sure if you’re having any doubts it’s ok” he repeated for the umpteenth time. You don’t mean to sound the way you do, you were grateful of course for how caring and understanding he is.

But ever since you had told him yes, he’d check every day till now, just to see if you were sure, reassuring you that he wouldn't be mad if you change your mind, etc. 

“Harry-”

“I know I know, but I also know that you don’t like thinking that you're disappointing me”

“I hate you,” you mumble, bringing your forehead to rest against his shoulder, hating and loving the fact that he knew you so well, you could barely hide anything if you wanted to, but he couldn’t either. 

“Mhm” he hummed, grinning down at your distraught stance.

You brought your head from his shoulder, smiling up at him for reassurance “I promise I'm fine, it’s okay”

                                                           -

This was not okay, you should’ve listened to Harry.

Now in the limo, on the way to the event, it was you, Harry, the band, Jeff, and his girlfriend–Glenne. 

Your foot tapped arrhythmic, both hands tightly clasped around one of Harry’s. It felt like you were going down a really really really high rollercoaster, with how your stomach was twisted a never-ending knot of wires. 

fuck, did it really hurt. 

“Love are you sure you’re okay?” 

“mhm” you responded, nodding quickly letting go of the tense hold you had on Harry’s hand. 

Conversation was flying around you, but you couldn't find yourself to join in with how into your head you were. Thought after thought flying high and low, some doubtful, some embarrassing, and some down right annoying. But you couldn’t help it. What if you had something in your teeth, or you stood awkward, or you trip just walking down the carpet (over nothing which would be even worse). 

God, you were a mess. And the intense analyzing look Harry was giving you was not helping. 

“Okay we’re here guys!” Jeff let out, clapping his hands together a singular time, while everyone else let out their excitement. 

‘When did the car stop?!’

Jeff was the first to get out, everyone else following suit until you were the only one. Looking up from your seat near the door, Harry stood outside, hand reaching out towards you. 

“You ready love?”

You could feel your throat clogging up from those words, the wires in your stomach only getting tighter by the second and in seconds your trembling hands were reaching up to wipe the tears running down your cheeks. Staring at all the interviewers with mics standing to the side of the carpet, the barricade holding back fans, and all the other people strutting their way down the carpet you weren’t sure you could handle all the eyes that would possibly be on you. 

“I- I don't think I can do it, I'm sorry H, 

I thought I could. I can't. I'm so sorry” you rambled, sniffling time to time. Finally looking up into Harry’s sad eyes, you also caught the glance of everyone else who looked at you with solace. 

“shh shh,” he started, passing through the door again to sit adjacent to you, quickly clasping your face in his, using his thumbs to brush away the never-ending tears. 

Your makeup was ruined, nose a debacle, as you tried bringing yourself together, but that didn't seem to work as you only began to hyperventilate. 

“Oh y/n” he said, bringing your head to lay on his chest, grabbing the handkerchief to wipe away at your runny nose. “Mate we’re gonna head out, Jeff let whoever needs to know it was an emergency or something, please,” he asked Jeff, awaiting his response until he could finally close the door which he did quickly.

“No no Harry you can't miss this, please I’ll just go home, it’s fine”

“it’s not fine, I'd have to be out of my mind to leave you like this, petal, it’s okay I'm not mad I promise” he reassured. 

On the way to his place the tears never stopped, thinking of how you had not only embarrassed yourself, but Harry too. 

“I'm sorry I'm really sorry H,” you cried into his chest, even his expensive suit you were messing up, this night could only get better. Only getting a hush and words of reassurance from Harry. 

                                                           -

You were laying on his bed, phone in hand as you scrolled through twitter. You knew this would happen, but you were just hoping by some miracle it wouldn't have, that maybe you’d finally reign control. Harry was in the closet putting on his sweats, and also fetching your makeup remover and clothes for the night. 

Harry Styles Ditched his OWN Premiere?!

What Happened to Harry Styles Tonight?

And last, but not least 

Harry Styles and Mystery Girl!, A picture of you and Harry in the limo, thankfully your face covered as it was pulled into Harry’s chest protectively. And another exactly like it, only difference is Harry’s distraught face was shown looking up at Jeff’s. 

“You shouldn’t be reading that rubbish,” his deep voice takes you by surprise, looking up as he stood in front of you. Your clothes in one hand and cotton pads and your make up remover in another. 

“I know” you mumble. “I couldn’t help myself”

“Do you want to get dressed, and we talk afterwards”

“Yeah” you say grasping the pile of clothes from his palm. Setting them on the bed as you stripped and changed there. Once you were done, you climbed on the bed sitting across from Harry who had just finished dabbing some of the liquid into two cotton pads, handing you the other one. 

You started removing the mascara and eye shadow, since they were sensitive, while Harry began wiping down your cheek.

“I'm sorry I embarrassed you, H”

He stopped his actions, dropping his hand away from your face. His eyebrows brought together and his mouth a line of what you could describe as disgust, but not likely, and one lip tucked up. 

“Why would you say something like that?” he asks, he grabs both your hands guiding you to sit on his lap. Your legs straddling his waist, wrapping both your arms over his neck. He sighed into your neck, bringing one hand to stroke the back of your head. “You didn’t embarrass me, baby, you reacted. You can’t help it, and I would never hold that against you, Yea?”

You nodded meekly in response. 

“I’m proud that you even tried to begin with, I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have forced you to go.” he says.

“Thank you... And it isn’t your fault, you didn’t force me to go. Just...I don’t know. All those people H, what if someone figures out it’s me. Now everyone will see me crying like a baby, it’s even worse that your friends saw me like that.” you sniffle. 

“I know I can’t magically fix this, but I promise you don’t even have to worry about them. They understand and won’t bring it up” he says trying to reassure you. 

“And if the public figures out it’s me, that’s a terrible first expression” you chuckle lowly.

Harry let’s a small laugh come out in return, grasping your face to pull you closer. “We’ll get to it, if it happens...how about after we get ready for bed, we go drive around a bit. Would that help a little?” he asks, eyes overflowing in empathy. 

“Yes please. Thank you again. I love you” you answer sniffling a small smile upon your face.

“I love you so much more”, he says bringing you in for a cuddle.

“We’re not starting this again” you grumble into his chest, receiving a giggle from him.

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[erinsuselessopinions]

How the Celtic/Welsh Myth of Blodeuwedd will act as an online for Elain's romantic plot in ACOTAR 5(or 6 if that's how you roll)

Hi,

I don't really know how to use Tumblr so we'll see how this goes...

So I was scrolling through the ACOTAR Pinterest board recently (like I always do once a month😂) and noticed a lot of pins that are of females surrounded by flowers with animals around them. However, one in particular caught my eye.

This pin is of the Welsh Goddess Blodeuwedd and the note for it says Elain.

So naturally, with me being being the mythology nerd that I am, I did some more research into the myth as I only knew the basics. Doing so, I found many similarities between Blodeuwedd and Elain as well as what could act as a potential outline for her love story.

The Story of Blodeuwedd

Lleu was the abandoned son of the god Arianrhod. His story with Blodeuwedd also talks about his struggle to kingship. Arianrhod tried to stop Lleu from gaining his kingship in order to prevent shame being brought upon her due to his companions. He would not receive a name unless it was from her. He would not receive his arms, unless from her. As well as that, he could never marry a mortal woman. Ultimately, unless it be through her own auspices (meaning: approval, support, control), he would never become king.

Lleu was giver some magik in order to ensure that he would live long enough to gain his kingship. The magik made it so that Lleu could only die from the most outrages and out there situations. Arianrhod was tricked into giving Lleu his name and arms, however he still did not have a wife. His cousins, Math and Gwydion, used their magick to create him a wife from the flowers of the Oak, Broom and Meadowsweet. She was the Goddess Blodeuwedd.

Blodeuwedd was made to be his mate, and she did so flawlessly. She was the perfect wife. The perfect mate. His people loved her and her beauty was unmatched.

One day, Lleu went hunting and left Blodeuweds and her ladies alone in the castle. A young huntsmen was seeking shelter from a storm, his name was Gronw. From first sight, him and Blodeuwedd fell in love. In order to ensure that they can be together, they devise a plan to kill Lleu.

Gronw leaves and Blodeuwedd starts expressing her concern to Lleu about how she is scared he may die. Her concern causes Lleu to show her the very circumstances where he could die. A bath is prepared on the riverbank and it is covered with a thatched roof, making it neither indoors nor outdoors. Lleu stood with one foot on the bath and one foot upon the back of a goat. Gronw throws a specially made spear which hits Lleu in the side. He turns into an Eagle and leaves. Once nursed back to health, Lleu along with his cousins find the two lovers. Gronw is killed while Blodeuwedd was turned into an owl.

Modern day take vs. My view

In modern day society, some people have used Blodeuwedd's story as an example of infidelity as well as how lust can overtake someone.

I however, disagree to a certain extent. While Blodeuwedd was unfaithful in her marriage, I feel that there is a reason behind it, not that that makes it okay.

Blodeuwedd was made by men, for a man, based off of those mens own personal desires. She was made and told that she was to marry Lleu and that that was her purpose in life. She was never given a choice. She played the role of the perfect wife and mate. The people loved her. She loved Lleu and he loved her, but they weren't in love with each other. They cared for one another. They did their marital duties, but they weren't in love. Then Blodeuwedd met Gronw and he sets her world alight.

For the first time in her life, Blodeuwedd wants something so strongly and she wants that to be her choice. She was prepared to give up everything for that love.

Blodeuwedd's story is the story of a girl who lived her entire life playing by the rules and roles that someone else made for her. She wasn't living her life, simply existing in someone else's.

How I think this will act as an outline

Although I do not think that Sarah will kill anyone like the myth, I do think she may use it as a base outline.

Elain and Blodeuwedd have a lot of similarities. Both spent a large amount of their lives playing a role. Both were given mates and told that this is the person they are destined to be with. Both are willing to fight for the love they choose.

Naturally this would make Lucien Lleu and Azriel Gronw.

Rather than plot to kill Lucien, I think that Elain will decide that she wants to step away from the role that her mother gave her and be herself. Fight for the love that she wants, not the one that she was told she will have.

Although not absolutely necessary, I feel that to an extent, the romance will help push the plot forward. I see that after she steps out of that role, Elain, like Blodeuwedd, will decide for herself who she will love and be with. She will fight for Azriel and reject the bond with Lucien.

However, I do think that the fight for love needs to be on both sides. Elain's only relationship ended with her finding out that she loved harder and fell faster than Grayson and the only thing that she got from it was that stupid iron ring. That ring is a symbol of what pain love has caused her. We see it again in ACoSF when we.find that Elain tried to reach out to Nesta multiple times, but was pushed away each of them. She is tired of fighting for love and receiving none back. Love has caused her so much pain. Azriel will need to show Elain that he is willing to fight for her.

Going along with the myth, this rejection could be a cause for Lucien to request a blood duel. Not because he is in love with Elain, simply due to his fae instincts. In the end however, i do not think that it will be Azriel and Lucien fighting the duel but I do believe that it will have the same outcome as Gronw and Lleu's. With one dying (not that they really dueled).

Ultimately, I believe that like Blodeuwedd, Sarah will use the base of her story to show Elain's growth and show Elain finally stepping away from that role(which I've been saying she's been playing since I read chapter 40 of ACOMAF with one of my favourite Elain quotes).

I feel like reading into this myth gave me a better insight on Elain due to her similarities with Blodeuwess.

Fun niche things I noticed during my research

Blodeuwedd is apart of triad alongside Arianrhod and Cerridwen

Cerridwen's symbol in mythology is a cauldron and she is the Welsh grain and sow-Goddess, keeper of the cauldron of inspiration and Goddess of transformation.

Blodeuwedd is the white goddess of death and life

Nuala's name is derived from Irish mythology. It is a diminutive form of Fionnuala (fair shoilder) or it is an alternate name for Una who was the wife of Finvarra, the king of fairies.

Sorry for the long post, I just felt like this was something interesting that I wanted to share but haven't gotten around to making a TikTok on it so... Tumblr seemed easier. There are quite a few other crack theories and things that i want to expand on so I'll get to those one day. If you've made it this far, I hope you have a lovely rest of your day.

Bye 👋😍😍

[chronic-claire-universe]

Hi! I love this matchup event you are doing and wanted to participate! Congrats on 500 followers!!

My mbti type is INFJ and my ennegram is 4w5. I love music and fashion. When I am bored, I'll listen to music and scroll through pinterest for outfit inspiration and different clothing trends. I am mainly introverted, but am the type to be social around people I am close with. I am a very sentimental person and enjoy finding meanings in the most basic of things. My love language is quality time and my preferred love language to recieve is words of affirmation! I have ADHD, so I tend to talk alot about useless things and daze off into space when people are talking, but I swear im listening! People say im empathetic, altruistic, and caring. Sometimes I may come off as rude or blunt, but I genuinley don't mean to. I just don't understand sometimes that the truth can be considered rude 😅 I don't like going outdoors because butterflies scare me. My goal in life is to be a mom one day, as I love kids and I want to give my kids the love and childhood experience I never got to! I am forgetful and get confused pretty easy 😅 I need to be told things upfront or I won't understand. So if someone is lowkey flirting with me, I won't pick up on it 😅

Fandoms: Haikyuu & My Hero Academia

Sfw headcanons

Hey Atlas welcome to this anime ice cream parlour! Hope you will consider this place as a virtual home where you can be blunt as much as you want, I have the same problem and also I have an hard time understanding sarcasm, hope this help you! Time to match you up, and here we are with the ice cream cone:

Haikyuu: Yuuji Terushima

aLet me start my rambling on why I can see you with him: Teru is an energetic, extroverted and really intelligent person, someone like him has the right skills to put you at ease.

I figured that the first time he saw you he tried to flirt just like he did with Kiyoko but your answer left him quite surprised "Ehi , what's your problem with showing your tongue?" you say with wide eyes, perking your head, and really trying to understand him.

The smirk disappeared on Yuuji who genuinely smiles and says "Nevermind, I'm an idiot! I just find you pretty and I'd like to ask you for a date!", same expression on your face, sweat eaves from his forehead, but suddenly you say "Ok!" making the bleached guy jumps.

Yuuji is someone that hasn't really the concept of private space, he's constantly bringing you to social event and loves to show you off to his team and classmates.

Talking about class do you know he attends the advanced course? He's a biology nerd and you cover him with questio that he enjoys answering.

He loves studying with you and most of the time he admires your furrowed expression while you try to resolve algebraic calculation, with a crayon between his fingers he points a finger to a sequence and this helps you resolving everything.

During chilling time he loves to go out to pet cafè, the first times you were really scared going out but he helped you shielding your body with his one and suddenly you feel protected and without anxiety.

You made a pact, if you want to stay at home you have at least to go to his match, it doesn't matter if you in the last bleacher far from everyone, but it's important that you're there.

Post-time skip Teru is an hairstylist, he loves his job and talking to customers, you love going to bring him his bento for lunch and him in exchange loves to treat yours and daughter hairs, yes you have a daughter and little son that he's some months old.

My Hero Academia: Hizashi Yamada

Blonde guys are your destiny, nah joking, it's just that I see you with extrovert people not to full of themselves.

Present Mic is an extrovert person but understand your struggles dealing with crowd, so if he likes to bring you out on a date he rather prefer an intimate restaurant and walk by the night, to enjoy your company.

You spend some dates with Aizawa and you have fun cuddling his cats and playing with Eri, seeing you with her snapped something with him.

You had your son not long after, being a pro hero and teacher he prefers his private life to stay that, but once it happened a thing. He lost his photo of you and the baby, searching for something in the wallet, Midoriya and Todoroki ran to him to give back the photo and froze seeing that there was a woman and baby really similar to him.

"P-present Mic sensei, are you married and you have a baby?" Mic just turn his head with cross mirk and says "Yes why? Is it so strange?" the guys just blushed and stuttered that they never thought that he could be a family man and here he was smiling with shiny eyes thinking about you, they understood that he was deeply in love.

Mic loves the simply life you have together, it helps him to get away to popular UA and interviews.

When he comes home, he loves kissing you on the lips and taking your son while you finish the dinner for the 3 of you, he's overall a present dad and he knows how to take care of your baby.

Act of service is what he loves the most, he often takes care of you simply doing housechores when he's at home and taking your son to let you sleep more.

A deep relationship full of daily tranquillity and some holidays from time to time

Atlas I finished hope you like this!

[obxsummer]

Who You Are // JJ Maybank

word count: 2.2k

pairing: jj maybank x reader

warnings: insecurities about body image, mentions of anxiety and depression (*if anyone ever needs to talk about anything, please don’t hesitate to send me a message or anon. i promise i’m not here to judge. i’ll help as best as i can*)

summary: JJ finds you deep in your head on a particularly bad day but he has zero hesitation to let you know how much he loves you.

a/n: sorry, i had to bust this out because i’m really stuck in my head tonight and needed some comfort from jj. this is written based off my opinions on my weight and how i function with it, so i’m sorry if it’s not super relatable. it’s based off the song Who You Are covered by Anna Clendening. i hope you guys still enjoy :)

masterlist

ask me anything 

--

JJ understood every little thing about you. He knew your pet peeves and your favorite things, anything that was subtle and almost invisible to anyone, JJ knew it. That was the outcome of years of friendship into a relationship, and he was just so in love with you that he needed to know these things about you.

The day started off okay. You had been woken up by the sound of birds outside, which wasn’t awful, but you couldn’t fall back asleep afterwards which meant you were a little tired. You ate a good breakfast, had a little bit of alone time until your friends called to head to the beach, but overall, it was reasonable.

The first issue came with getting ready. Since the whole group had crashed at John B’s house as usual, you didn’t pack a swimsuit to bring. Kiara had packed an extra one that you managed to wiggle into. The mirror was your enemy though.

You didn’t consider yourself skinny. Even as a younger kid, you were on the heavier side and as you grew up, your height helped, but you still weren’t in a single digit size. Honestly, depending on the day, you could pull off looking smaller depending on what you wore. You were curvy, but you certainly didn’t have Kiara’s small waist to narrow yourself out as you stared in the glass reflection. You still had stomach rolls when you sat down and you constantly tugged your clothes to make sure no skin was visible.

“She’s not stronger than me, she’s just fatter than me.”

Today just wasn’t the day to be wearing a bikini to the beach, especially with your boyfriend and close friends. You just weren’t feeling it. You tried adjusting the fabric to cover more skin since you usually hid in high-waisted bottoms, but Kiara’s low-cut cheeky style wasn’t giving you any help. With a sigh, you tugged an oversized shirt on to cover up for the time being and blinked away the tears that had formed before walking out with a smile.

“Hi, baby,” JJ greeted as you walked towards him, bag in hand with a towel in your other arm. You gave him a smile in greeting as you slid your sunglasses on, not wanting him to see the redness in your eyes from your small breakdown. “You okay?” He asked as you sat next to him.

You nodded. “I’m fine,” You tried to muster emotion into your voice so he wouldn’t notice a difference, but JJ always did. He always noticed. Leaving it alone, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side while you waited for the rest of your friends to join.

After a few brief minutes, you were walking down to the sandy beach with a cooler in tow while John B played music through Kiara’s speaker. You moved your towel so it was flat on the sand, knowing you would possibly look smaller if you laid completely down instead of sitting.

“Babe, do you want a chair?” JJ asked as he set the two he was carrying on the ground.

You shook your head. “No, I’m going to try and tan my back first.” Of course, it was a lie, but he accepted it as an answer, still watching you closely. As much as you wished you could keep your shirt on, you didn’t want the goofy tan lines or plethora of questions that would come with it. You waited until the rest of your friends piled into the ocean before pulling your shirt over your head, practically running towards your towel to lay down.

“She’s stronger and fatter than you.”

JJ watched you with curious eyes as you adjusted your suit again after laying down. He knew you were always insecure about the way your body looked and he always tried to remind you of how perfect you were, no matter what the number on the scale said or the size of the clothing you wore, but it was so much harder said than done.

“You’re beautiful,” He mumbled as he crouched down to kiss your forehead gently. “Please don’t forget that. I’ll be in the water if you need me.”

Tears burned your eyes as you watched him run away, part of you wishing he didn’t know you so well. Some days were just like this. Everything could be going perfect but one thing went wrong and you couldn’t get your head out of it.

Eventually, the sun was going down and the air was cool as Pope started up a fire for you guys. You had pulled your t-shirt back on and sat on your towel with your hands behind you to hold you up. Kiara was strumming on her ukelele while John B told some outrageous story about his surf adventures he had the other day.

JJ walked away from the cooler with two drinks in his hands. He didn’t hesitate to sit behind you on the towel, grabbing your arms so you leaned back against him as you sat in his lap. The second his arms went around your waist, however, you panicked and sucked your stomach in as far as you could.

“Your jeans look too small.”

The action didn’t go unnoticed by JJ, who instantly looked down at you in concern. He hugged you tightly, his lips pressing a kiss against your hair. He hated the fact that you were reacting this way to his touch, but he knew he couldn’t say anything until you were alone.

“I grabbed you a drink,” The blond boy mumbled as he moved to hand the alcoholic beverage to you.

You shook your head slightly, not taking it from him. Your mind had instantly switched to counting numbers: calories, sugar, carbs, any of it, all of it added up. “I’m good. Need to drink more water anyways. Thanks, bub.”

You continued to lay in JJ’s arms as you scrolled through your phone. You flew past the collection of pictures on Instagram from Sarah Cameron, only pausing to look at what Kiara had posted. JJ watched silently from your shoulder as you zoomed in on your body in the photo, analyzing every detail before looking at Kiara’s, no doubt comparing yourself silently. It only progressed when you switched to Pinterest, adding countless exercise routines and dieting ideas to a secret board once you grew bored.

“Alright, I’m going to call it a night.” You clicked your phone off and sat up. Whatever previous conversation had been going on quickly ended as your friend looked at you. You gave them a smile and grabbed the extra chairs, leaving JJ to man the towel by himself. “I’ll see you guys up there.”

“Are those new stretch marks?”

Goodbyes followed your statement as you disappeared up the sand. John B was turning to JJ in a split second once you were out of ear. “Is she okay?” He asked in concern.

JJ shook his head, wanting to go after you but knowing you would just tell him you needed some time alone. “No. No, I don’t think so, but I know whatever I say won’t make a difference. She’s so broken, you guys. It hurts me to watch her pick herself apart like this and compare herself to everyone else.”

“Is this about the swimsuit?” Kiara asked, to which JJ nodded. “I felt bad. I could tell when I handed it to her that she wasn’t down with the idea.” Kiara knew that you could pick out every single thing you thought was wrong once you were in the headspace for it. She hated the fact that you compare yourself to her, especially when she herself wished she was different. Nobody was perfect.

“I’m going to go check on her. Don’t wait up.”

Inside John B’s house, you had showered quickly before changing into your comfiest sweatpants and a giant t-shirt, wanting nothing more than to hide in your baggy clothes and try to sleep. It didn’t seem to work as the moment you climbed in bed, your mind got too loud and you couldn’t stop the tears from pouring from your eyes.

“You need a bigger size.”

“You have to stop eating.”

“It only gets worse from here.”

“What went wrong?”

“Guys don’t like girls that are fat.”

“It barely fits.”

“You’re never going to get married if you look like that.”

Not good enough.

Not good enough.

Not good enough.

Your fingers dug into your skin, your mind getting too far ahead of you as your hearing disappeared minus the sound of your ragged breathing. Your chest was tight but you could barely feel anything around you as you kicked at the sheets, digging your head into your pillow.

“Hey, hey, hey. Come on. Come here. You’re okay.” You knew it was JJ. His hands were gently as he shifted you into his lap, holding you tightly. He pressed your hand to his chest, cradling you softly. “Breathe with me. I’m right here. It’s just us. I’ve got you.”

JJ continued to count with you, waiting until you were breathing normally despite the heart-wrenching sobs escaping your throat. You shook your head as you calmed down. You loved him. You loved him more than anything, but he deserved someone so much better. Someone like Kiara who would look beautiful even when she was sick or hungover or just got out of bed. Someone like Sarah who could fit into anything you threw at her, who still looked skinny despite being in a giant sweatshirt. It wasn’t fair.

“Talk to me,” JJ whispered once you had regained enough control to slow your breathing down. “What’s going on in your head, baby?”

You clenched your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him as you explained. “It’s just really hard, you know? It’s hard to get up every day and hate my body and hate the way I look. It’s awful. I don’t have the motivation to fix it because I know I’ll never win. I look at people like Kiara and Sarah and just wonder where I went wrong? Why don’t I look like them?

“And I wonder why you’re still with me, even when I can’t fit in your clothes or-or you can’t pick me up and carry me? A-And there’s so many other girls out there that can look ways and do things that I can’t, and it-it’s not-”

JJ shushed you as you cried harder, clutching onto him like he would disappear if you let go. His own eyes burned with salty tears at your words. He hated that you felt this way. “Y/N, look at me.” You ignored his request until he moved your face to look at him. “You are absolutely beautiful. You’re perfect in your own way. You don’t have to have a tiny waist or small thighs to be pretty. You’re not Kiara, you’re not Sarah. You’re Y/N. That’s who you are, that’s the girl I fell in love with. You shouldn’t look like them. You should look like you. If you want to change any part of you, it should be on your own terms, not because you want to please the world around you.”

He kissed your forehead, holding you impossibly tighter as the two of you rocked back and forth. “Babygirl, I don’t want them. I want you. I want the girl who laughs at my stupid jokes and craves my attention. I want the girl who hugs me nonstop just to remind me that she loves me, or the girl who sends me morning text messages even if she’s laying right next to me. That’s you. That will always be you. No matter what. Although, if you stopped sharing your ice cream with me, we might have a problem.”

You laughed slightly as you leaned against his chest. Even when dealing with the darkest parts of your mind, he still knew how to make you laugh.

JJ pulled on the waistband of your sweatpants slightly before you lifted your hips, letting him pull the item from your body, leaving you in your underwear. His hands wandered to your t-shirt, sliding the fabric from your waist slightly. You froze instantly, sucking in your stomach like you did before. “Don’t do that,” JJ mumbled as he kissed you softly. “Don’t hide from me.” He didn’t push your limits though and left your shirt alone, simply tracing circles in the bare skin that was visible.

“And you’re wrong,” He said after a moment of silence. “You’re so wrong.”

You were confused as he moved to stand up and went over to the dresser in the spare room. He shuffled around for a bit before pulling out an orange hoodie. You let him pull it over your head and down your torso, the fabric warming you up. It wasn’t your clothing, it was his. His favorite sweatshirt to be exact and it smelled just like him.

Climbing into bed, JJ tugged you under the covers and pulled you to lay your head on his chest, legs intertwined as he rubbed your back. He wanted you to feel safe, and loved, and appreciated. “You’re my girl. Every inch, curve, scar, freckle of you, I love. Don’t forget that.”

“And if you ever need a reminder on how beautiful you are, I’ll make sure to tell you every single morning and every single night but even then, it wouldn’t be enough to show you how perfect you are to me.”

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 13)

(gif by me! I use the iphone app momento)

tw: language, angst, mentions of drug use (relapse), mentions of miscarriage

word count: 7.3k (im sorry)

masterlist

series masterlist

Spencer got up from the cold tile floor, fuzzy unicorn in hand, and faced the window above the kitchen sink. He stared out of it, admiring the snow that was still falling lightly, wondering if it was raining in Seattle. His memory flashed to the last time he stood in the rain with you, but he tried to shake the images away. Instead he watched the snowflakes hit his windowpanes and melt. He hoped that maybe you were somewhere staring out of a window, admiring the dreary weather, and thinking of him too. 

He found his place against the dishwasher again, sliding down as his mismatched socks gave way so he could stretch his long legs out fully. He pulled the nearly empty box onto his lap and appreciated the light weight of it, as he continued with his twelfth letter and thirteenth item. Thirteen, a number whose history of unluckiness stems all the way back to the thirteen attendees of the Last Supper, and tracks through the number of steps leading up to the gallows, all the way to the number of letters in the names of some of the most infamous criminals. 

Thirteen was a haunted number, which rightly accompanied a haunting letter. 

“This one’s long. It’s a month of tarnished memories packed into a few pieces of paper. So far I’ve gone through half of a college-ruled one subject notebook and I’ve had to change pens twice. It’s nearing 2:30, and the wine is finally hitting my empty stomach. Sorry in advance for the way my handwriting will be. I’ll try to make this make as much sense as I can. 

If you look at your thirteenth item it is the notepad I stole from that resort in Florida. There isn’t much around to signify this letter. You don’t keep mementos from one of the saddest days of your life, but for some reason I took this useless paper and shoved it in my purse on my way out. Good thing I did, or you’d have no item to attach to these memories. Though I suppose that might be better. 

The resort was where we were going to be at for our ‘babymoon,’ whatever that is. What a dumb idea, I’m still mad at myself for letting Garcia talk us into one. She just made it sound so appealing. 

Once everyone knew I was pregnant, Hotch pretty much sat me in Quantico with Penelope. There were a few local cases where I was lucky enough to go visit the ME’s office, but usually I kicked my feet up in her lair while you were out in the field. 

“A what?” I said one day as she ran DNA through CODIS. The two of us were drinking herbal tea, and I was barely 16 weeks. I just looked like I had a big lunch in my stomach, not a baby the size of an avocado. 

“A babymoon. It’s like a honeymoon, but you go when you’re pregnant. It’s one last trip for mommy and daddy to go on and spend quality time together. How many trips have you and Dad-Wonder even been on?”

I shrugged. We didn’t travel much for pleasure. We traveled for work, so on our rare days off we liked to be at home. 

“I mean we’ve gone to Vegas and Connecticut a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, “Visiting family, my dear, is not a vacation! I was thinking you two would go to the beach. You guys relax and wade in the ocean and Spencer can build sandcastles that defy every law of physics!”

I laughed at that. You and the beach? It just didn’t feel natural to me. Probably because you aren’t capable of actually relaxing.  

“That does sound fun,” I said and I spoke to my barely there stomach, “And it would make daddy take a few days off.”

Penelope squealed and started clicking at her computer, “I’ll find a resort online right now! Okay so how about Marco Island? It’s gorgeous and in Florida, so it’ll be like eighty and sunny, even in the beginning of December.”

“I’ll have to talk to Spence about it. I mean I know it would be fun and all but we really should be saving money for a crib, and car seat, and bassinet, and high chair, and a rocking chair, and a baby swing, and a—“

Garcia stopped me from spiraling out of control, “That is why you throw a huge baby shower! People buy those things for you.”

I rubbed my tummy again, “Oh no, Daddy is very particular about what things are bought.”

“That’s why you have a registry, Momma Bear. Now, no more excuses.”

Before I could even call you, she had put in both of our requests for days off and we had a week long reservation at this fancy resort that you see listed at the top of this notepad, the “Crystal Cove”.  

I was only slightly mortified that she did all this without me asking you. Mostly, I was happy. I was afraid you wouldn’t say yes, but if PG already booked it, you kind of had to agree. And to my surprise, you did. 

When you got back from that case we were at home, you eating something I had poorly made from a random cookbook on a shelf. I had decided to start cooking more, so I could make homemade meals. I wanted to be that mom who cuts sandwiches into flower shapes and always has fresh baked bread and cookies laying around. I wanted us to be those parents; the ones who are so sickeningly in love that their kids roll their eyes every time they kiss. We were those parents, kind of, if we could even be considered ‘parents.’ At that point, I don’t think we were. But we were definitely in tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet love. 

“So, I have a surprise for you,” I said, coming up behind you and rustling your hair. 

“Hm?” You said, stuffing your face like you hadn’t eaten in days. You probably hadn’t. You’re the king of forgetting to eat. Maybe that’s how you stay so skinny. 

“I booked a trip, well I guess technically Garcia did.”

“A trip?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, a trip, to the beach. Penelope called it a ‘babymoon.’”

You laughed, “A babymoon? I’m not familiar."

I smiled and sat across from you, “It’s like a honeymoon, except it's just me and you relaxing and spending quality time together before this lil dude makes his appearance.”

You smiled, “I’m telling you, it’s a girl.”

I rolled my eyes, “It’s definitely a boy, but stop ignoring my offer.”

“Well, it’s not really an offer so much as it is you telling me that we’re doing this.”

“Okay, yes Garcia helped me book it already, and yes she put in our requests for days off, but you can say no.”

You did your little nose twitch scrunch thing, “I’d never say no to quality time with you, Love.”

You leaned over and kissed me, and I squealed, “I’m so excited! I have to buy maternity bathing suits now! Oh and a sunhat!””

Spencer smiled fondly, recounting that day. He was thrilled to go, minus the part where he’d have to wear shorts, and flip flops. Something about the piece that goes between your toes makes him squeamish. He was looking for the right opportunity to use something special he had bought for you, and you had just given him it. A week on a beautiful beach with the love of his life? That would be the perfect time to ask you what he had been waiting to ask you since JJ’s wedding. He was going to take Hotch’s advice; stop waiting, start doing, and get down on one knee with a blue velvet box. 

He never got the chance to. The trip was supposed to be in the beginning of December, around your week twenty-four. You never got that far. 

He got up from the ground, immediately digging around in a drawer full of pencils and compasses and rulers, finding the blue box in a corner. It was covered in pencil shavings and dust. He hadn’t looked at it in months. He held it delicately in his hands before opening it. 

It was plain, but he remembered you said that was what you wanted. 

“Oval, of course and silver,” You had explained to Penelope and JJ at a night out years ago. Derek and Spencer sat on the opposite side of the table, but his ears perked up at the mention of rings. 

“I like just the band,” JJ said, admiring her own ring, “And I have Henry’s birthstone, the citrine, so I didn’t need another one.”

“What kind of stone Y/N? I’d love a pink diamond! Or a ruby! Imagine!” Penelope gushed. 

You shook your head, “I’d take cubic zirconia, if it was coming from the right guy.”

Both Penelope and JJ stuck their tongues out, “Nuh-uh!” Garcia said, grabbing her phone to scroll through more pinterest photos. 

“Spence will be getting you a diamond.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered, “Don’t jinx it JJ! And I don’t want a diamond.”

Her mouth dropped, “No diamond? Really.”

“Diamonds aren’t ethically sourced.”

“Lab grown! Get lab grown!” PG piped it, showing you a picture of a ring, just an oval in a plain silver setting. 

“That! That’s the one!” You said and Garcia giggled, going on a rant about her dream wedding. 

Spencer had gotten that exact ring. Lab grown, oval, classic, beautiful. It was what you wanted, and you deserved everything you ever wanted. 

Spencer looked at the notepad. He could tell you had a hard time picking an item for this letter. He knows this letter is the end, the other two are the epilogue of  a story he wishes you kept writing. Crystal Cove is the place where he had planned on asking you to marry him, but it ended up being the place where your love story ended. He tossed the notebook to the side and decided that the souvenir for this letter was now going to be this ring. This ring that sparkled and shined, even in the dull incandescent lights of his kitchen. This ring that belonged on your finger, and not in the back of a drawer. This ring that you didn’t even know existed, but if you had, maybe you’d still be together. 

“I did buy three maternity bathing suits, and you bought shorts. Spencer Reid in shorts. It was going to be the best trip ever. We were going to snorkel and look at sea turtles and sunbathe and drink virgin piña coladas by the ocean. We were going to get couples massages and spend every moment loving and appreciating each other.

The actual trip? Much different than the one we had planned on paper, but let’s first discuss that time between the hospital and the trip. 

It was four weeks. Four weeks of me sitting at home while you were off at work. Four weeks of the door opening and Derek walking through, not you. And on the odd chance that it was you opening the door, you’d be appearing at odd hours of the night to grab a new suit or a file or a snack and then getting back in your shitty car and going to your apartment. Each time I heard that comforting sound of your satchel hitting the floor, I’d crawl out of the cave of blankets I was in to find you, and you’d act like I wasn’t even there. 

For the first few days, you asked me how I was and if I was feeling better, then you’d check your phone and wave goodbye. After that, I was lucky if you’d say hello, then I was lucky if I even got a glimpse of you. You never held me. You never kissed me. You never told me you loved me.

I got all my information about you from Derek. Every day I texted you, “Have a good day at work! Talk soon?” And everyday you didn’t answer, so I’d ask Derek if you were okay. He’d always tell me what you were doing. Usually you would take a stack of files of cases to a dark room and make preliminary profiles to send back to the departments, alone. I’d tell him thank you, and the next day would be the same nonsense. 

Those four weeks dragged. It was like every minute was an hour and everyday was a year. I was healing, even without you, everyday I felt better and better. But that’s relative to the day before. I haven’t felt ‘good’ yet. I haven’t felt ‘happiness’ yet. But I will. And I’m counting on that. 

My mandatory leave was four weeks, and at the end of that Hotch called me in for a ‘mandatory psychological evaluation.’ I didn’t tell you about it because you weren’t speaking to me, and even when you did you were angry and snappy and rude.  

I didn’t pass the evaluation. Even though the BAU wrote those damn questions, I still didn’t pass. When my four weeks were up, you were expecting me at work, and I never showed. You didn’t notice how not okay I was because you were too busy handling your own feelings, which I understand. You have to take care of yourself first, deal with your own trauma before touching anyone else’s. So, your trauma was none of my business, a concept you should've applied to my healing process. 

I was supposed to come back on a Monday and when I didn’t show you came to the house. You opened the door and yelled my name. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks, and it felt good. I thought you had finally come home. I thought you were finally ready to heal with me, but you weren’t. You were there to judge me.

I think I ran to where you were, a smile on my face that I didn’t think I was capable of making, “Hey!”

You looked so put together in a neatly pressed suit, but your eyes exposed you. They were bloodshot and the bags were so large they almost reached the end of your nose. I had on one of your shirts; it was comforting at the time. Not so much anymore.  

You looked me up and down, a small scowl forming on your face, “Where were you today?”

I took a deep breath, and I lied, because lying to you felt easier than telling you the truth. The truth that I was not deemed stable enough to come back, even though I wanted to. I needed to be distracted. I was ashamed, scared, confused. 

“I-I didn’t go.”

“Didn’t go? You’ll get fired Y/N.”

I sighed, “No, my leave got extended.”

I could feel the way your eyes bore into my skull as I dodged eye contact. 

“Extended?! It’s been four weeks.”

“I’m not ready!” I desperately wanted you to see through it. I thought I was ready, but the papers disagreed.

“Hotch let you do that?” Your voice was increasing and I found myself inching away from you.

“He encouraged it!” Another lie. He didn’t ‘encourage’ it. He forced me.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and opening the door again.

“You’re leaving? Spencer c’mon I-”

You cut me off by slamming that door in my face. 

That’s when I started closing myself off. I started dreading the sound of your feet against the floor at three am. I started to put my own walls up, but they would dull in comparison to the Great Wall of Spencer you built around yourself to keep me out.”

Spencer was always good at putting walls up. In fact, you were the only person to ever get him to take (almost) all of them down. There’s a side of him he doesn’t show anyone, a side of him that he reserves for himself, and when something happens, that’s where he goes. He goes to the corner of his brain where he feels safe, and the walls come up to protect him.

And in those last four weeks, he did just that. He put the walls up, shut you out, and decided that was better. Except it wasn’t better, it just was easier. It was easier for him to bypass you and find a new outfit for work tomorrow. It was easier for him to disappear in the office until the odd hours of the morning. It was easier for him to hide away from you, because when he’s exposed he always gets hurt. It was easier to act like everything was fine, even though everything was the opposite of fine. 

He never needed to go to the house, part of him was drawn there like a moth to a lantern. He was drawn to you. As much as he didn’t want to see those four walls, he still needed to check on you. He just did it in his own damaged way. He’d get a glimpse of you in old sweats and a shirt with a hole in it, hair a mess and mascara from two weeks ago adding to your eye bags and he’d be reminded that he couldn’t be there for you. He would never be enough, and he’d retreat into the comfort of solitude. 

He was so preoccupied with being hurt, that he didn’t realize just how much he hurt you too. 

“I had forgotten about the stupid trip, and so had you. You were too preoccupied with work and not speaking to me and I was preoccupied with crying and trying to speak to you. I only remembered the trip when I got an email from the airline about the flight, they had to move our seats or something stupid. I decided that was a reason for you to actually need to speak to me like I was a person, so I took advantage of it. 

I intercepted you at home one day. I had been sitting in the kitchen waiting for you. You came home at two am. 

“Hey,” I said, immediately as you walked through the door. You looked surprised that I was up. 

“Hi, I’m just gonna—“

“Spencer, stop. We have to talk.”

You crossed your arms, not leaving the threshold of the door, “No. I told you a million times Y/N, I don’t want to talk.”

“Not about...” I couldn’t find the words and you started up the stairs. 

“Are we going on this damn trip or not?” I said, my voice cracking from lack of use. 

You stopped, looking over the banister at me, “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I didn’t think of it until now. We’re supposed to leave in two days.”

You groaned, “Why didn’t you cancel it?”

I threw my hands up. As if all of this was my responsibility? 

 “I was preoccupied! Did you cancel your days off?”

You shook your head, rubbing your face, “No, God. Can we still get a refund?”

I was hurt that you didn’t want to go, but not surprised. As I stared at the front door from my spot at the kitchen table I decided that I was going to go no matter what. It was going to be refreshing to look at the ocean instead of an empty nursery. That would be my distraction.

 “I-I’m going. I’ll pay for your half, but I’m going. I’m losing my mind here, Spence.”

You looked at me again, still contemplating your options. 

“I get it, okay? You can’t be in this house, but neither can I. Maybe we can talk and stuff on neutral ground. I-I just want you there with me, the way it was supposed to be.”

Then you took me by surprise, you nodded, “Yeah, yeah we’ll go.”

I’m sure I lit up like Rockefeller Center at Christmas, “Really?”

You rubbed your eyes, “Yeah, we can go Y/N.”

I was feeling lucky, so I pushed it, too hard, “Are you staying tonight?”

Your voice went from sleepy to sour, “No.”

And you vanished up the stairs, taking all my hope in us with you. 

I knew deep down it wouldn’t end well. I knew it was going to be fighting and yelling and arguing, but any time with you was good time with you at that point. And I favored the little bit of serotonin and dopamine you flood my brain with as opposed to staring at the gray walls of the kitchen alone.”

Spencer only agreed to go because he thought he was getting there. Everyday he felt a little better when he’d walk through the door, but he still wasn’t ready. He thought a week of no work and no one to talk to except you would bring the walls down. This would finally be the catalyst in a reaction that was taking far too long to complete. He also couldn’t stand the thought of you flying and spending a week alone. He felt better about you being alone here because you weren’t really alone. You had Derek visiting, Garcia dropping off baskets, phone calls from Emily, the odd visit from Rossi, and apparently phone calls to Hotch, but on that island you’d really be alone, and he was worried about how you’d handle it. 

“So two days later we got on a three hour flight to Miami, and I drove our rental car to this resort. We didn’t talk much the whole time, besides some small talk about the flight and other odd comments. It was painfully awkward, and I regretted even coming. 

We didn’t speak until I used the keycard to open the door, and we stared at the one king sized bed in the room.

“Oh,” was all you said when you realized you’d have to share with me.

“What?”

“There’s only one bed.”

I rolled my eyes, “Spencer, we’ve shared a bed for three years.”

You just stood at the door with your hands fidgeting on the handle of the suitcase, “I’ll call down and ask for a cot to be brought up.”

“A cot? Are you serious?” I couldn’t believe you, “Why come if you wouldn’t even share a bed with me? I said I’d be fine alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but changed your mind. 

“Great communication skills Spence. Really, I’m impressed.” You rolled your eyes and finally started to unpack your bag, “I came because I was worried about what you’d do here all alone.”

Part of me was happy you were worried, but a bigger part was annoyed, “I’ve been handling being alone fine, thanks.”

You scoffed, “Yeah. That’s why you need Derek to bring you food everyday, because you’re doing so well.”

I bit my tongue and tried to speak calmly, “Well at least someone checks on me everyday.”

That shut you right up.

The three days you were there went as follows: we slept as far apart from each other as we could, despite how badly I wanted to cuddle into your arms. We’d get up in silence, eat breakfast in silence, walk to the beach and read in silence, eat lunch and dinner in silence, and each night we’d yell at each other until we fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

Remember what I said to trigger the fight on December third, your last day there? How could you forget? It’s the fight that broke us up. 

“So, I was thinking of going to a counselor,” I said, staring at the waves lap the sand from the balcony of our room. The air felt cold for eighty degrees. But maybe that was just because the air between me and you had been cold for weeks. 

You were sitting next to me, but I could tell you were worlds away. 

“Spence,” I nudged, trying to snap you out of your daydream. 

“Hm? What?”

“I said I’m going to go to a counselor.”

You twisted your face, “A counselor? What for?”

I shrugged, “I-I think it’d be good for me. It’s a grief counselor.”

You turned to look at me, your brow covered in sweat and your eyes watery. You were incessantly bouncing your left leg, rubbing at your nose, and you seemed disinterested in every single thing I was saying or doing. In fact, you’d been acting that way since the first day you disappeared to your apartment. 

“Counselor? Yeah,” You were fidgeting, barely making eye contact. 

A feeling I can only describe as pure dread formed in my stomach. I thought I might puke, but I swallowed the feeling and kept talking, “I got a recommendation from Hotch. He said he went to Dr. Stevens after Haley died. He said it really helped.”

You were still not listening. 

“I think it’d be good if we went together.”

That finally got your undivided attention. “Together?” You snapped, “No.”

“Why not?” I said it with an air of exhaustion and despair. I was tired of this. So fucking tired of it. 

“I’m not going to a damn therapist, Y/N,” You seethed, your metal deck chair scraping against the concrete as you stood in front of me. 

The sky looked stormy, palm trees whipping in the wind as you came before me. The bags under your eyes looked like bruises, and you had on sleeves. It was eighty and you had on sleeves.

“Okay, I’ll go alone then. I think he could really help us though.”

I was giving up on fighting. I didn’t understand how when I was at my absolute low you could just keep kicking me while I was down. All I wanted was for you to go to someone and talk about it. That’s it. You were acting like I’d asked you to move a mountain for me, which, might I add, at one point you would have done. 

“He? You really think a male therapist is going to help? You lost a baby, Y/N—“

“WE,” I clarified, for what felt like the fiftieth time, “We lost a baby.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored me, “You lost a baby. How does a male therapist help you through that?”

I was angry now. It was bubbling up to the top and I thought I might explode. 

“He’s a grief counselor! He’ll help me through my GRIEF! And I think you should go because clearly you have a lot going on. You always have! You should’ve been seeing someone for years.”

“Oh, I have a lot going on?” You sneered, “Of course I have a lot going on! I go to work everyday to bring you home a paycheck so you can sit around all day and do nothing.”

I stood up, got close to your face, “I’m on leave.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that.”

You bypassed me and went inside, and my hot anger turned into wet anger and fat tears were rolling down my cheeks.

“Do you know how traumatic this was on my body? Do you? Everything hurts and you were supposed to be there! You were supposed to take four weeks off too! You were supposed to be there for me!”

“Yeah and who’s there for me!” You yelled, louder than I think you ever had; at me at least. You had thrown your suitcase on the bed, haphazardly grabbing your clothes from the drawers and shoving them in. 

“I would’ve been,” I said softly, coming up behind you to grab your arm lightly, “If you had let me.”

You pulled back, “Don’t touch me!”

I reached up to wipe my eyes and crossed my arms in front of myself defensively, “I want to be there for you, Spencer. I do. Why won’t you let me?”

You didn’t answer, because even you didn’t know why. You just stood over the suitcase, one arm on either side of it, hair matted to your sweaty face, panting and panting. 

The facts I had chosen to ignore were staring me in the face again. Or maybe I was just that oblivious. 

“I’ve never seen you like this. This isn’t you, Love,” I tried to say in my most soothing voice. The dread had clawed its way back up to the back of my throat. 

“Or maybe this is me,” you said softly, and I swear you were crying. Or maybe I hoped you were, that way we were both sobbing. That’s as close to togetherness as we could get. 

“Maybe this is who I am now, or who I’ve been all along.”

I reached out for you again, but stopped myself, “No, Spencer. The real you isn’t this angry, and bitter, and mean.”

You slammed your hands against the bed, “Yes it is!”

“Is that what you’ve been doing all this time?” I said sadly, shaky breaths between words, “Is that what you’ve been going to your apartment and doing?”

You turned around, skin sweaty and eyes red, “What? What are you talking about now? God, do you ever stop talking?”

I snapped, ignoring your last jab there, “Are you using?”

Your face contorted into a sour expression, “Am I using?”

“Yeah, Spencer! Are you? Because I can’t see any other reason for why you’re so irritable and sweaty and out of it! So I’ll ask you again, are you going through withdrawal?”

You looked like I had literally punched you in the gut, and I kind of had. It was a low blow, I’ll admit it, but I was seriously worried about you. If an event would trigger you, this would’ve been it. 

“What? No!”

I wasn’t sure whether or not I should believe you, but I knew I had to support you either way. I love you, even when you’re angry at me, I still love you. Even when you throw clothes and seethe at me through gritted teeth, I still love you. That’s my fatal flaw. No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, lower lip pinched between his teeth. Was he really that terrible? He didn’t remember being so spiteful. Reading it back, he understood why you thought he was high, and he had thought about it more than he cared to admit. But he hadn’t touched the stuff in seven years, and he wasn’t about to start again now.

‘No matter how many reasons you give me to stop loving you, I never will.’ 

That line made him want to cry, hands clenching the ring box as if it were a stress ball. That line simultaneously felt like a stab in the gut and a breath of fresh air. He had given you so many reasons to walk away, and the one reason to stay was there in his palm, unused.

““It��s okay if you are. I understand this is a... hard time. I’ll support you through this,” I put my hands out to touch your chest. 

“I’m not high and haven’t been in years!” You swatted my hands down. 

“Then what the hell is going on!?” 

“I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m heartbroken!” You yelled, going back out onto the balcony to stand in the rain that had started pouring down in sheets. 

“Spencer! Stop!” I followed you out, tears mixing with rain to the point that I didn’t know which was which. 

“I’m just confused! It’s hard to see the point in all this anymore. Maybe it’s just not worth it,” You said, yelling at the ocean not at me. Rain soaked our clothes instantly. Part of me was hoping this scene would end like the ‘notebook’ we’d kiss and you’d spin me around. I guess this is kind of like the notebook, it’s a story to help you remember us. Except you don’t have Alzheimer’s and I wrote 15 letters, not 365. 

“Maybe what’s not worth it?” I was yelling too, just so you could hear me over the sound of the wind and the rain. 

“This!” You gestured between us. I felt like you knocked the air out of me, my whole body stinging. 

“But I love you!”

“All of this has made me realize that love isn’t everything! I love you too but we need more than that!”

That was the first time I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ in a month, but it was a double edged sword. I bit my lip so hard I think I started bleeding, “Love isn’t enough? Are you kidding me, Spencer?”

You swallowed thickly, “No! I’m not kidding. I’ve never been more serious!”

“So what? That’s it?” I said it quietly, but I wanted to scream at you. I wanted to scream that you were being an idiot. You were being ridiculous. You were being unnecessarily cruel. But I didn’t. I was tired and water logged. I had finally given up.

You ran your hands through your hair, “No–it’s–we we aren’t over Y/N. I’m just saying that it’s gonna take more than love to fix us.”

“Well maybe if you were ever home, we could actually try. But you aren’t. You’re always gone! So explain to me how we’re going to fix this. What’s it gonna take Spencer? What do you want from me?”

You took a deep breath, uttering words I was so sick of hearing, “We need space and time.”

“Space? Time? It’s been a month Spencer! I let you go to work. I let you spend every day at your damn apartment. I stopped calling. I stopped checking in. How much more space and time do you want?”

“Thirty-four days,” you mumbled, just so I could barely hear. The thunder rolled, mostly drowning it out. 

“What was that?” 

“It’s been THIRTY-FOUR days, Y/N. Thirty-four. I don’t know how you expect me to be okay after only thirty-four days.”

“I don’t expect you to be fine! I expect you to speak to me! To look at me! I want to go to bed crying and have you there next to me. I want to be there for you when you’re crying. The only way we get better is if we do this TOGETHER!”

The anger looked like it melted off of you, and I took that as my opportunity to approach. I threw my arms around your soaked body as you shook with sobs into my shoulder. I held you like my life depended on it, because in a way it did. You wrapped your arms around me too, and everything felt okay. We were standing in the pouring rain, holding each other as we cried, and somehow I felt more okay than I had in the thirty-four days prior. It felt like maybe you were coming back to me. 

You weren’t. 

We stood like that for what felt like hours, and eventually I pulled you inside. I wish I didn’t. I wish we stayed there, holding each other in the rain until the sun came up and dried us off. I foolishly thought the rain washed our sins away. 

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, my head on your shoulder as we wrapped ourselves in towels, “I promise.”

You shrugged me off of you, going back to packing your bag. 

“Spencer, stop packing, please,” I begged, grabbing the items you were putting in and taking them back out. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you said plainly, taking a shirt and putting it back in. 

“I-I thought—“

“Thought what, Y/N? That because I cried to you and told you I loved you that we were magically okay?” 

I stammered, “No. No! But I thought it meant we were in this together now.” 

“You just accused me of relapsing an hour ago.”

“And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but that’s not a reason you should go,” I pleaded, reaching for you again. I thought if you walked away I’d never see you again.

“You don’t trust me,” your voice cracked. 

“No, Love, I—“

“Don’t call me that.”

The pain in my chest bloomed, sending a wave of heartache through my entire body. A heartache I still haven’t been able to shake. It’s still there. Some days it's a thunder crack and sometimes it's a low grumble, but it’s always there. The rain hasn't stopped.  

I hadn’t even realized that you were completely packed until you zipped the suitcase shut. 

“You’re really leaving?” 

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle, to turn and face me. I didn’t need to use my profiling skills to see how much pain you were in, and my pain doubled at the sight. I’ve always been an empath when it comes to you, feeling what you feel like it’s my own. 

“I am.”

I crossed the room and threw my arms around you, sobbing into your chest. To my surprise, you wrapped your arms around me lightly. 

“I understand,” I said, looking into your eyes, “We can’t be there for each other the way we need to.”

You nodded into my shoulder, “Stay. When you get home from this we’ll talk. I just need a few more days.”

I shook my head, finally coming to the realization that we didn’t work anymore. We weren’t healthy anymore. 

“Don’t bother. The writing’s on the wall, Spence,” my voice wavered, and I regretted every word as they left my mouth, “I’ve been waiting for that person from the hospital to come home to me. I’ve been waiting for the Spencer who lends me his shirts and fact dumps and eats IHOP and ice cream with me to come home.”

I felt your breath stop under my arms, “But that Spencer, the Spencer I love, isn’t here anymore. We need to be alone.”

I felt you shake with tears under me, and that triggered mine, “We have to break up.”

I wish I never said it. I wish I gave you those few days, but we both know those few days would’ve turned into weeks and months and we would’ve ended up here anyway. I wish you didn’t let me say them. I wish you kissed me to shut me up and told me I was being stupid. I wish I didn’t watch you go down that elevator, tears on your cheeks. I wish I didn’t spend the other four days in an empty king sized bed, crying for you. 

I realize now that you changed. I did too. Instead of wishing for the old you, I should’ve learned to love the new you. I think I would’ve, if I had given it a chance. Actually, I know I would’ve. I think I’d fall in love with every version of you that could ever exist or has ever existed. You and I, we’re meant to be together. 

I know you probably don’t believe in it, but I like to think that we’re twin flames; we’re two halves of one soul that somehow ended up in two bodies and constantly pull to find each other again. I’ve read a lot about them recently. Twin flames don’t necessarily end up together. They can even just be two people with an intense friendship. They’re people who help each other grow, even if that means they’re only in your life for a short time. I like to think that we are that case, and that in some parallel universe I’m with you and we have our daughter and we’re happy. I just wish that I was in that universe now. 

I know it’s for the best that we went to the damn Crystal Cove and broke up. I’m sure someday in the future I’ll be pleased with that decision, but for now, I still regret it.”

Spencer stared at the notepad, eyes flicking between that in his left hand and the ring box in his right. He took the ring out and admired it in the light. It glinted and glimmered, delicately refracting light onto the cabinets. He slid it halfway down his ring finger because that’s as far as it would go. He imagined it was on your slender, perfectly manicured hand instead of his, but an ache formed where his heart was when he realized it’d never end up here. 

Spencer grabbed the notebook. It was unlined and the paper felt flimsy and thin. He got up from the floor to find a pencil in the drawer the ring had been hidden in, and took it out to scrawl his own letter to go with his own memento. A sixteenth letter for a sixteenth item you had no idea even existed. 

“Y/N,

I’d like to consider this letter sixteen, to go with the engagement ring that’s in my palm. I bought this ring the day after we ate dinner at Rossi’s and showed everyone tiny FBI onesies. I have your perfect ring here in my hand, a plain silver band with a lab-grown diamond in a four-prong setting in the center, just like you told Garcia you wanted. I should’ve given it to you the day I bought it, but I waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself. 

What you didn’t know about the trip to the Crystal Cove was that I was going to propose to you there. I was going to get down on one knee in the sand at sunset after dinner. I even had a whole speech planned. I was going to tell you that I never thought I could love anyone as much as I love you, or that anyone would ever love me the way that you do. I was going to say that it amazes me how everyday, I wake up and love you more than I did the night before. And everyday I think it’s be impossible to love you and our daughter more than I do right now. I wanted to tell you that I want to wake up every morning and feel that for the rest of my life. I want the good, the bad, the ugly, I want it all. I want Korean film festivals and IHOP breakfasts and to talk to the moon. I want tubs of ice cream and overly sentimental flowers hanging from the wall. Most of all I wanted to say that I want to spend every day of my life making you happy. 

That speech still applies today. I still love you enough to ask you, but I don’t think you love me enough to say yes. 

It’s okay. It really is. I haven’t decided what to do yet, but if you do read this, just know that it’s okay. I promise you, it’s okay. I’m not the bitter, angry man I was at the Crystal Cove anymore. I changed again, and I hope you’re right. I hope we are twin flames and your soul will come looking for mine, and I hope it happens in this universe, not the infinite parallels that may or may not exist. I miss you and I want nothing more than for you to come back. Come home, Love, please come home.

-SR”

He stared at the notebook page, before tearing it off and folding it in half, placing it in his pocket for safekeeping. He went on his computer and bought the cheapest one-way ticket to Seattle that he could find. He needed to see you. He needed you to see this letter, see this ring. He needed to make this right.

The flight was a red eye, leaving at midnight, so he’d get to the Seattle field office by eight. He looked at the leather watch and saw that it was nearly nine. He decided had to finish, and he had to finish now, as he grabbed letter #14. 

PART 14

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Taglist!

@l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings @ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog @blameitonthenight21 @goldentournesol @rainsong01 @thelifeofadumbbitch @swimmingtrashwobblersludge @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @eldahae

[gaveherhearttotheliontattoo]

Title: Wrong Winchester Turned Right (Part IX)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 2474

Warnings: Very brief mention of self-harm

Prompt: So not really a prompt, I was on Pinterest and I looked up fanfiction prompts and this popped up from a user who I can’t find the account of… Anyways reader jumps on the back of who she thought was her best friend in public but ends up quickly realizing her mistake.

Note: Holy moly has this been a long time coming! I hope y’all enjoy it, a lot of work went into this with the assistance of a beta reader. I’m not caught up on Season 13 yet so that’s why it’s not keeping up with the show. Hope you enjoy.

(Read Part I Here, Part II Here, Part III Here, Part IV Here, Part V Here, Part VI Here, Part VII Here, Part VIII Here)

--

“She’s still in her room,” JoAnn had said the minute she opened the door.

“Sam, can you stay with JoAnn while I go check in with Allison?”

After Sam led JoAnn towards the living room you found your way up the stairs and to the only closed door. You knocked but heard nothing. You tried the door handle and it turned slowly in your grip. As you pushed the door open you took in the view. The sun crept through the closed blinds, offering the only form of light in the dark room. You saw a shape on the bed and realized JoAnn might have overreacted. Perhaps Allison hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep and was knocked out cold. You pulled your phone out, turning the flashlight on to get a better look around.

You walked around the room and everything seemed in place. No clothes on the floor, no crooked papers, not even a single strand of hair in the brush. You kept turning until you got near the bed but you straightened when you saw the shape was no longer laying there. You moved towards the door, intending to escape, but the lights flicked on and the shape from the bed was standing in front of you in the shape of Allison Waters. Her eyes looked hollow and dark, her skin pale. She reminded you of-

“Well, well, aren’t you pretty. She’d like you.”

“Who would?” Your skin was crawling. Allison just continued to stare at you. “Allison, can you tell me what happened?”

Allison turned and left her room. What had just happened? Where was Allison going? Shaking yourself of those thoughts you followed Allison. You watched her walk out the back door towards the woods. You stopped at the edge of the woods. Your dream came back to you, and so did your past.

“(Y/N)!” You turned and found Sam running towards you. “What happened? Why are you out here?”

“Allison’s gone, she walked out in the woods. She looked sick.” You glanced back at the woods and then started walking back to the house with Sam. “Sam, remember how I said something about this case feels familiar and you basically shot me down?” Sam opened his mouth to interrupt but you held up your hand. “This isn’t an ‘I told you so’ moment but the way Allison looked, there was something about her appearance that struck me as something I’ve seen before.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s go talk with JoAnn and then head back to the motel.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sam, just, not now.”

------

Twenty minutes later Dean found you curled up on the bed facing the wall. He sat across from Sam who was scrolling through his computer.

“What happened?”

“We might have a lead but she’s been off since she watched Allison walk into the woods.” Sam closed his laptop. “She told me about her dream and everything that happened this morning. Nice bruise by the way.”

“She’s tough.” Dean pushed himself up and sat down behind you on the bed. “(Y/N), will you talk to me? What’s wrong?”

“(Y/S/N).”

Sam jumped up and moved to the other side of the bed kneeling in front of you. “What did you say?”

You looked at Sam, recognition flashed through his eyes. “She looked just like (Y/S/N). Sam it was like reliving the past.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean looked between you and Sam.

“(Y/S/N)-”

“(Y/S/N) was my sister.” You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest. “She was sixteen when she disappeared. I was only twelve but I knew what was going on. She was gone for a week and when she came back she wasn’t (Y/S/N) anymore. She hid in her room, stayed quiet, would disappear for hours before coming home and hiding in her room again. She was my big sister so I tried to spend time with her but she ignored me.

“One day I came home from school and found the house open, dark, and quiet. I don’t know what made me do it but I walked through the house. There wasn’t anything out of place so I thought someone just forgot to shut the door all the way but then I heard muffled crying coming from my parents’ room. I pushed the door open and found my sister standing over my father and my mother cradling his head in her lap. As my sister turned to look at my intrusion her eyes were dark and her mouth was covered in blood.”

You took a deep breath as the images of your father laying on the floor covered in blood and your mother crying over his lifeless body resurfaced. As you fought the tears you hugged your knees tighter and dropped your chin. You looked between the brothers and your heart constricted. The look of pain in their eyes nearly made you stop but you knew this was important to resolving this case.

“She killed him and then she used this extra long finger nail to slice my mother’s throat. I should have run but as I watched her kill our mother I snapped. I grabbed the item closest to me, which happened to be the candlesticks my parents got when they got married. When I hit my sister with it she hissed.” You laughed and shook your head. “She actually hissed. When she wrapped her hand around it to take it away she screamed and pulled her hand away, it was burned. I had no idea what the candlestick was made of. I had guessed steel or iron so I hit her again with it and ran. I went to the kitchen and grabbed whatever knife I thought I could use.”

“It’s like you were born to be a hunter,” Dean said.

You turned your eyes on him. “I never wanted this. I had no choice.”

“Sweetheart, none of us choose this life.” Dean chalked this up to just another thing the two of you had in common.

“I killed her.” You paused. “I killed my sister and then my mother because my sister turned her into whatever she was. I took off, ended up with Jody Mills, until I was eighteen. I tried to avoid the hunting scene but I couldn’t do it. For years I tried to find the bitch who turned my sister but I never could. I have a fear we’ve just found another one of her victims.”

“You never said how you came across Sam?”

“Jody.” You ruffled Sam’s long hair, smiling when he frowned. “Jody called me after everything happened with her family and she found the two of you. Somewhere down the road, when the two of you took your break, she connected us.”

“Do you know what this creature is?”

“I had initially given up but after meeting Sam I decided to pick up the research again. We thought it was a vampire, that’s where I got stuck initially, but it’s not. It’s like this cousin to the vampire, a Baobhan Sith. It’s a Scottish Folklore. Supposedly they only come out once a year to feed and only at night but I haven’t heard about anything that resembles her antics since everything happened with my sister. Well, until now that is.”

“What else do we know about this thing.”

“Men find the woman to be very attractive and she keeps them interested by asking them to dance. After that she goes for the kill. She kills women too but when she does that they become one. She prefers hunters. I’m sure that means animal hunters not us but it’s true. I didn’t see the beauty, but maybe that’s because I’m a woman. Finally, we can kill them with iron.”

“Great,” Dean said, happy to finally be getting some sort of lead. “What’s next?”

“I use myself as bait to lure her out.” 

Dean jumped up and glared at you. “Are you crazy?” Recognizing those weren’t the best choice of words he crossed his arms and looked at Sam, then you. “There is no way we can let you do that. You could get yourself killed!”

“I already talked to Sam about it, and besides it is neither of your choice to make.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Sam stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You looked between the brothers. “This is my fight and I’ll do it with or without your support.”

You walked out of the motel. There was a park only a few minutes down the road and you figured you could find a comfortable place to think without the sulking Winchester Brothers around. Who were they to tell you what you could or couldn’t do with your life? This was your battle. You were the only one of the three with a real connection to this case.

When you got to the park you took a seat on a bench and pulled out your phone. It hadn’t stopped buzzing since you walked out of the motel room. You shut it down and surveyed your surroundings. You saw kids being pushed on the swings, the giggles filled the air around you. You watched parents running with their kids, holding their infants close. The world kept turning. None of them knew of the monsters lurking in the shadows, the monsters hiding in the forests, and you wish you didn’t know either.

------

Dean tossed his phone at the wall, turning as it shattered. What did he need it for, it’s not like you were actually going to answer his calls.

“That was stupid,” Sam mutters.

Dean turns to him, arms crossed over his chest. “No this plan is stupid!” Dean raked his fingers through his hair. If he pulled any harder he would be bald before he went to bed. “I’m going out there.”

Sam stepped in front of the door, using what little extra height he had to try and intimidate Dean. “And doing what?”

“I can’t just let her go out there alone. Jesus, Sammy, she’s… I… She means a lot to me. If anything happens to her I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, ever.”

“Go get her, tell her we support her, but that we want to work this out first before anyone does anything rash.” Sam stepped away from the door. “Then maybe when we kill this thing you two can stop dancing around each other.”

Dean shrugged his jacket on, pocketed his wallet, and snatched his keys off the end table. Shit. “I shattered my phone, she turned hers off, how am I supposed to find her?”

“Look for the nearest park first.”

Dean didn’t bother asking why, instead he left the motel, hoping he wasn’t too late. He’d told you he liked you but he was falling fast and deep. You’d only known each other for a couple of weeks but it didn’t seem to stop him from hoping for more, a lot more.

------

You kicked your legs out, back, out. The swing rose higher. But no matter how high you got  you always came back down, and right there was the forest. It was like it was calling to you every time you stared at it.

“If you swing any higher you’re going to fall on your head.”

You drag your feet through the gravel, stopping the swing. “How’d you find me?”

Dean dropped onto the swing next to you, twisting to look at you. “Sammy suggested the park.”

“Kid’s been around me too long.”

“If you’re going to do this-”

“There’s no if, Dean.”

“Would you just let me finish?” Dean stared at you, waiting for you to answer. After you gave a slight nod he continued. “If you’re going to do this, we’ll support you, but we’re going to do this as a team.”

You’d been prepared for a fight. They’d both been so upset when you left, but here Dean was, trusting you. Your heart fluttered and you resisted the urge to place a hand over it, instead reaching out for Dean’s hand. “This means a lot to me.”

Dean looked at your hand. The act had been so simple, yet intimate. His heart kicked up a notch and he wasn’t sure how to handle that response so he stood up, pulling you with him. “We should get back before Sammy starts to worry, but before we get back I need to make a pit stop for a burner.”

“What happened to your phone?”

“I may have gotten a little angry.”

“I was in a dark place, for a long time.” You hesitated. Glancing up you found Dean’s emerald eyes soft, welcoming. “When I couldn’t find the person responsible for all of this I started to blame myself so I turned to self-harm. One day Jody caught me struggling to bandage myself up, but rather than ask me questions and judge me she finished bandaging me up and gave me a hug. I started to see someone who knew the world and helped me start working through some stuff. I met Sam only after a few sessions and I thought I was okay, but researching again reopened the wound and I got in my head. Sam found me one night on the bathroom floor and took me to the hospital to get bandaged up. Sam made sure I went back to my therapist, but since all of this has started I haven’t been able to go see them. I could always call or text but it’s been busy.”

Dean stared at you. He’d always considered you tough, strong, but he found your resiliency even brighter now. His hands were reaching for you before he knew what he was doing. He pulled you into his arms and sighed as you wrapped your arms around him. Dean whispered, “You’re stronger than you know.”

You pulled back, putting your hands in his. “Thank you. Not something I like to bring attention to.”

Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Sighing, you held onto Dean’s hand as you walked to the closest store and picked up a new burner as well as a few snacks. You continued hand in hand to the motel room, Dean squeezing tight as you walked into the room and found Sammy scowling at his computer. 

“I’m going to lose my mind over this case. (Y/N), I need more information on this,” Sam paused and stared at the screen, “Baobhan Sith. Whatever else you can give me that you found in the past or remember because based off of what I’m finding, this creature shouldn’t be around for another 70 or so years.”

[bbyhaikyuu]

idk how to do these things so 👀

I haven't written anything in like 4 years, so.. Hi? Im taking it easy a bit by doing these hc's(is that what you call it? Or is it called a scenario???? Idk help im a babieee) first before doing oneshots/short fics hehe

: Daichi and Sugawara: Finding out that someone is drawing them.

I did not proofread oops i just wanted to get it over with and finish

Daichi

TYPICAL hallway bump shenanigans eheheheeeee

You were carrying quite a lot of stuff, well of course, being the class rep means that you have to pass the class's workbooks to the faculty room.

Your dumbass forgot that you put your sketchbook right on top of the pile??

Chaos suddenly came and the next thing you knew is that the books were on the floor.

Looked up and saw it was Daichi??

Bumping to this mf feels like walking right into a stone wall

lmAO felt like your shoulder dislocated a bit there eh?

Daichi is a gentleman ofcourse he would help you gather the books. Suga and Asahi was with him too, which made the cleanup much more faster.

Y'all exchanged apologies(and thanks) before you sprinted away like your life depended on it.

The trio was about to head to their respective classrooms, but suga noticed something on the corner of his eyes and picked up a black sketchbook.

They knew it wasn't a typical notebook because the cover was sort of like soft leather??? Damn it felt expensive.

Sugawara quickly found your name written at the bottom center and read it out loud.

"Isn't she from class 3-A?" Asahi asked them, they nodded in reply.

All of the 3rd years knew each other's names, despite never talking or interacting.

The bell rang, lunch break was over.

"Guess she's going to be late because of us. " Daichi chuckled, though guilt was evident.

"Aaand that is why you are the one who is gunna return that to her, personally." Suga smiled before shoving the notebook to Daichi's chest and darting towards his classroom.

Asahi is gone too???

Daichi sighed and went back to his own classroom.

The period turned out to be a study hall since the teacher didn't bother to show himself. There isn't really anything to study anymore tho?? They had exams just last week???

Bored Daichi decided to flip through your sketchbook and found himself at awe and intrigued each time he flipped a page.

He quickly learned that you were into action mangas. Each page was littered with dynamic poses. Though there were some full illustrations here and there.

When he got to the last page with a drawing he CLOSED IT BY ACCIDENT BECAUSE HE WAS SURPRISED.

Homeboy got stared at lmao

Anyways he opened it up again and got an even closer look.

On the upper left, there was a messy headshot sketch of someone. Messy yet you can actually tell who it was yk what i mean????

Daichi smirked because he KNEW it was him 100%

the nowhere finished full body sketch of someone recieving a ball with the #1 below the headahot gave it away.

The facy that it has "?????" beside it is very amusing to him. He knew you had a hard time figuring out the pose.

So when y'all got dismissed, he quickly went to your room and searched for you, holding up the black sketchbook in his hand. You almost died that day because you thought you lost it.

"You look like you could use some help there, wanna come watch me and the boys practice? "

You almost blew a fuse but hey, atleast you finished that drawing of yours.

Sugawara

You're at a cafe, hoping that the change of environment will help you think and draw more.

Wrong. You needed a live reference. Pinterest pics just wont cut it.

How do u draw men???? When its women you can go like swoosh and its already decent and *chef's kiss. But men???? Boink.

So when you looked up and saw a pretty boi (cue sugawara) sat across you, you were like "hell yeah, jackpot".

You started doing sketches on your ipad(and apple pencil), your hands felt like they were moving naturally.

You know how weird it is to draw someone you completely didn't know, based from experience.

Soooo you tried to keep your stares to a minimum and only looked up when you really needed to.

Too bad, Sugawara already had his eyes on you and your ipad. he sounds like a thief wtaf

So he decided to stay still and scroll on his phone for a little bit more casually sipping his coffee.

He observed you for a while, whenever you weren't staring at him.

He would smile a lil bit every once in a while.

You thought he saw a meme. Nah hoe, he's entertained that you thought he didn't know 👀

You did 3 sketches of him???? You're so happy????

You finally stretched your arms and let out a smol sigh

Pretty boi started gathering his things already :(

You were sad that you didn't get to know him, but hey atleast you got these bomb ass sketches of him.

You decided to clean it up a bit and colour it in.

Damn his beauty mark beside is eye is perfection.

Your ass was so engrossed in finishing the drawing you didn't notice him coming to your table.

Him putting the coffee on your table startled tf outta you.

Pretty boi??? Smiled??? Im simping????

He hurried out tho, looks like he's busy.

B U T

pretty boi left a sticky note!!!

"Wanna hang out? I'll be your French girl ;)))"

xoxo Sugawara Koushi

Attached: His number with a heart

H E A R T A T T A C K

Took you a while to compose yourself.

You smiled and thought :

J a c k p o t

So that's all for now!! I accidentally made daichi's a bit longer

I kinda like this writing style???

Im thinking something mafia au related for the next one

Feel free to send me some suggestions! I could def use them hehe 👉👈

[thetiredbiwrites]

Fabulous, Darling

Requested by @megaduppi​ “Hiya lovely! I was wondering if I could request a Seb x reader where they are stuck together in Sebs apartment because of quarantine and they start doing random things like Seb giving in to the reader and letting her do his make up and him looking completely fabulous? It can be funny and fluffy I am honestly craving it”

A/N: Thank you for the request 💖💖 hope you don’t mind, but I’m not entirely comfortable writing for the actors, nothing against anyone who does. So I made this a Bucky x Reader instead and they’re stuck in their shared apartment. It’s more fluffy than funny.

A/N2: I don’t know a lot about make-up. I can do basic (what is contouring?😂). So it’s pretty vague about what make-up she does and more from Bucky pov

5 weeks. 5 weeks you had been stuck in your apartment.

You were proud of your home. How you’d decorated, the layout and colours- the way you made it your own. But seeing the same crap everyday, the same rooms and nothing else, God, you were sick of it.

The urge to redecorate grew every day. The online shopping and endless scrolling through pinterest in boredom didn’t help.

The first week had been productive, making you feel good and enjoy the time. Time to spend with Bucky and doing everything you put off or didn’t have time for because of work. The two of you had tided and cleaned every room, sorted through all your clothes and shoes and reorganised the kitchen cupboards.

Now there’s nothing left to do.

Meaning whenever you thought of something to do, or came across ideas on various social medias or online shopping, you did it.

Bucky rarely said no to you and he certainly didn’t start now. He was just as bored and desperate for something to do.

This meant that when you asked for his special pancakes at midnight, he made the damn pancakes. You both sat together in your pjs watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine and eating a stack of pancakes covered in syrup and toppings until 2 in the morning.

When you gave into the urge and decided to rearrange the living room, he just smiled and went along with it. Helping you move every piece of furniture and arranging all your photos and nick-nacks. A heated debate about how to order the DVDs broke out.

You won.

He had insisted the two of you stay fit, keep exercising, every day. Especially with all the snacking and pancakes you both ate. So when you declared a Just Dance competition, he danced like he never had before.

Ok, so making the prize sex-related definitely aided his decision and pushed him to beat you.

But even he had to admit, after 5 weeks, sex wasn’t that exciting and most of the time, neither of you were particularly in the mood.

Which is how you ended up feeling like grandparents one day, doing a 1500 piece jigsaw while soft music played in the background.

“Uugh, these pieces are all the same colour!”

“You just have to be patient. We’ll get there.”

“I have been patient, Bucky. I’ve been patient for 5 hours and we’re not even half done. Don’t laugh at me.”

Bucky finished the puzzle as you gave up and baked cookies instead.

More than once, Bucky somehow found himself sitting on the floor with you on the sofa behind him, doing his hair.

You practiced different kind of plaits and other basic styles to trying out more intricate styles. Although you did resist buying flowers and bows to put in his hair.

The day you curled his hair had left you in a fit of laughter until you couldn’t breathe. Plaiting his hair did leave it wavy, which, depending on the type, looked pretty good. But he could still tie it back into a low bun when that happened.

Bucky, however, wasn’t amused. Especially after you took a photo and sent it to the group chat. Bucky had immediately showered, letting his hair go back to normal after that one.

The last couple of days, you had a new idea. One Bucky didn’t agree with.

He drew the line at you doing full make up on him.

It’s not that he thought men shouldn’t wear make-up. You had painted his nails a few days ago and he approved of the sparkly red. He had kept them that way, even when he did the weekly shop.

No-one had commented but at a time like this, who was going to care about a man’s painted nails. But even when it’s normal he wouldn’t have taken it off.

Well, if Sam wasn’t around anyway. He wouldn’t be caught dead with painted nails, especially sparkly red ones, around Sam.

Sam wasn’t against men wearing make-up either. Hell, if Steve or Tony, or any of the guys really, showed up with nails painted, he’d compliment them. Probably in a jokey manner, but compliment none the less.

Bucky, though, would never hear the end of it. It’s just how their relationship went.

He’d do the same back. Bucky could pretend he wouldn’t. But he would.

By day three, Bucky felt his resolve crumbling. He tried thinking of reasons why he didn’t want to do it but couldn’t actually think of any. But the thought of wearing make-up didn’t agree with him.

But those big y/e/c eyes staring up at him and the pout on your lips, akin to that of Puss-in-Boots, was making it hard to say no. Especially when he didn’t have any reasons against it.

He made it through the morning but by 2pm he found himself yet again sat on the living room floor, legs crossed. His fingers tapping against his legs as he contemplates running until you give up on the idea. But where the hell is he going to go? There’s only so long he could stay locked in their only bathroom.

This time you were also sat on the floor, legs crossed and facing him. You were aware of Bucky’s nervousness but you knew, well, you were 95% sure that once it was done, Bucky would realise it’s fine. If he didn’t, he can take it off straight away. It was just the two of you so it shouldn’t be a problem.

You knew his limits. This meant you’d lightly push him into letting you do this, but if he really didn’t agree, if it ended badly, you wouldn’t sent a photo to the group. You wouldn’t even take one. The two of you knew each other well enough to know these limits in various situations and not cross them.

For now, you had collected everything you needed from the bedroom and started laying it out on the floor. You faced the mirror away from Bucky so he couldn’t look until you had finished.

Bucky’s eyes flicked across the products as you laid them out. Noting all the liquids and powders, brushes, some foam egg thing, and… is that a pencil?

“How much stuff do you need? That’s a lot of products. Why are there so many brushes? I know make-up is like art but I thought you were just doing something basic and simple, y/n? Y/N, please, don’t make me do this.”

Bucky’s complaining stayed in his head as he looked up at your bright eyes and kind smile, his mouth closing as the words died, forming a pout instead.

“While you do look so adorable,” you lightly grabbed his chin in one hand, smushing his lips together. “Quit you pouting. It’s gonna be fine.”

Bucky’s eyebrow raised, biting the inside of his lip, his eyes flicked between everything on the floor and your face.

“Bucky, baby. You got nothing to be nervous about. Besides, it’s not like anyone is going to see or know.”

Bucky slightly nodded his head to the side, grunting in agreement but clearly still unsure.

“Specifically Sam, he doesn’t have to know anything. You’re on your own with him. I mean, if anyone else dared to say anything, I would tell them to grow up. It’s 2020. If a guy wants to wear make-up, let him wear the damn make-up. Many of them are better than me, although let’s be honest that’s not too hard, and it’s makes me jealous. Who taught you?! Can you teach me? They look amazing.”

Once Bucky cracked a grin, huffing a laugh, you clapped your hands and picked up the first product. You had rooted through your stock to find foundations that were the closest to his skin tone and found some you had kept after your friend had stayed a few months back.

“Let’s get started” you wiggled your eyebrows and Bucky felt himself relax. Not entirely, but enough to sit still and let you work.

Bucky wished some of his girlfriend’s excitement and enthusiasm would pass to him. As you added more and more to his face, he felt his nerves increasing again.

The feeling of your hand softly resting against his skin, from his neck to his face, as your other gently moved brushes and product across his face was, admittedly, a great feeling. You relaxed him and the touches were light and soothing.

Yet his heart still beat a little too quickly and his head continued overthinking.

He felt guilty for being so worried. He’s watched you do your own and your friend’s make-up many times over the last few years. But he still couldn’t help the image of a clown or a kid who got into mummy’s make-up from being projected in his head.

As you asked him to close his eyes, he tried to think of something else and his mind ran with the image of a little kid covered in make-up. Except it was your kid who had gotten their little hands on all these products.

He could hear your laughter as you came upon the scene. The way your kid would smile, wide and toothy, like their mothers, as you took a photo. Bucky could see you cleaning the little one up before teaching them how to do it properly.

Bucky’s mind couldn’t stray from this path and as he heard you humming a song he didn’t know, another picture developed.

On your face was a beaming smile, love pouring from your eyes and a soft glow surrounding you from the sun through the window as you softly sang to the small bundle in your arms. A little hand reaching out from the material as Bucky approached and wrapping around his finger.

Bucky saw himself chasing after your young son, smiling at the loud and carefree laughter leaving the little boy as he caught him and subjected him to tickles.

Learning all those hairstyles you subjected him to this past month so he could do them for your daughter. Her hair like his but eyes like yours, shining bright and paired with a smile when he’d finish. Her little arms wrapping around his neck and hugging as tight as her little body could.

Bucky focused back on the present when he heard you sigh. Realisation flashing across your face as you shot up and ran towards the bedroom.

“Don’t look!” you yelled across rooms and his hand retreated, holding it close to his chest like he’d touched fire and abandoning the mirror sat inches from him.

The mischievous grin on your face paired with the glint in your eyes had Bucky worrying again. Noting your hands behind your back, hiding something from his view, had his heart rate picking up. Again.

His eyes reluctantly closed when you asked and he tried not to flinch as you touched his face, giggling as you did.

“Ok, all done. You can look now.” You announced, holding up the mirror.

This time it was your heart racing, becoming restless the longer the silence stretched. Bucky’s eyes glued to his reflection, wide eyed and jaw dropped, his entire body frozen.

You began to worry you had pushed him too far.

“You hate it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you-“ “No, no,” he cut you off, large hand resting over yours as he finally took his eyes off his reflection. “No, I don’t hate it, actually. You know, I really like this colour.”

A smile spread across your face, huffing a laugh as Bucky batted his eyes, referring to his eyeshadow.

He looked back at the mirror, moving his head to inspect different angles.

“Glitter’s a bit much though, don’t you think?”

“Nope. You look fabulous, darling!” Bucky laughing at your over-the-top British accent.

“Am I pretty?”

“Oh, baby, you are the prettiest.”

“Well then, I guess I better share.”

You only caught a glimpse of the devious smile before your boyfriend launched at you, knocking you on your back.

Laughter bounced off the walls as Bucky pinned you down and rubbed his beard all over you, covering you in red glitter (matching his nails, of course).

“No, wait stop! I wanted to take a photo first!”

---------

A/N: I have an instagram (@/elberex). I was thinking of posting sneak peaks on there? 🤔��

[thicahgase7]

{7:05 am}

For @wikihoeofgot7​​, the biggest Mark stan I know and love

Song: Lovestained by Hope Tala

[A/N: I would just like to note that the Y/N in this oneshot has A.D.D (Attention Deficit Disorder) which I also have so I hope I was able to show that a bit. But I hope you enjoy]

Slowly opening your tired eyes, you try to see if he’s still next to you but find him missing, his phone still resting on his nightstand. Groaning, you crawl over to his side and reach for the phone, checking to see who’s calling: someone from the group no doubt. Sure enough, one of the boy’s names pop up on the screen and you chuckle to yourself.  

Getting outta bed, you let out a groan while stretching to wake yourself up more, wondering where he was. The bathroom? Turning your head to the bathroom door, you could now hear the water running and music playing. Placing the phone back, you started to walk in the room but froze with a thought. Ooo you could surprise him with breakfast! Yea, that’s what you’ll do! But, checking your breath, you scrunch your face up. Maybe you should brush your teeth first..

You enter the bathroom, the music getting slightly louder now that you’re in the room. His back is facing you as he hums along to the song and you pause, stopping to admire his wet muscles. Instinctively, your hand reaches out to him but you stop yourself. You came in here to brush your teeth and go make breakfast, not attack him in the shower. At least, not for now. Focus! Careful not to make a sound, you keep looking between the shower and your hands, grabbing the toothbrush and slathering it in toothpaste.

“Wild wild wild, when I’m with you all I get is wild thoughts!” You cover your mouth, a laugh almost escaping you as he sings from the top of his lungs. Checking to see if you’ve been caught, he lathers his hair and still doesn’t turn around. He sways from side to side, body rolling while running his fingers through his soapy hair. Knowing you only had a minute or so at the most, you quickly brush your teeth, thankful that the music is so loud it covers the sounds of the sink.

“Wild wild wild thoughts!” Okay, any longer and you’re honestly gonna burst out in laughter but the way he’s dancing in there, you smile at him before turning around and closing the door quietly. You tell yourself you need to record him next time he does this so you could show him and his friends later if he’s being annoying. It would make things even since he shared with the boys a video of you snoring. Wait, what were you doing? Right, breakfast! You reach for your phone and head out of the room, unlocking your phone and looking up recipes. You notice a text from Yugyeom but ignore it for now. You figure you can answer him later.

What sounds good right now? Eggs benedict? You weren’t sure you had the tools to make that. Turning the corner of the hall, you continue to scroll for recipes. Pancakes? Hmm, last time you made them, they ended up a bit thicker than usual. What could you make? You suddenly feeling pain shooting from your hip and look down. While searching on your phone, you rammed yourself into the kitchen island, its corner hitting your hip bone. You hiss, crippling to the floor as you try to breathe slowly.

“Dammnit.” You start to rub your hip, hoping the pain will go away faster if you did that. You only had to wait for a few more seconds before the pain is gone entirely. Grabbing the edge of the countertop, you pull yourself up and sigh while glancing around. Just what the hell could you make? Your eyes rest on the fridge and you figure you should actually see what you have.

Let’s see: eggs, shallots, leftover takeout, milk, hmmmmm maybe? Checking your phone for more recipes, you notice you have notifications on snapchat. Opening the app, you notice it’s from most of the boys. You decide to send a quick picture of the kitchen, making a funny face before opening Pinterest. Your feed pops up to memes of the boys, other kpop memes, pictures of places, and regular memes.

“Ooo, a meme of GOT7?” Scrolling past the meme, you see a video of a kid slamming their face in the cake then seeing a cute duckling wadding through the water. Each swipe of your finger, a new meme pops up and you giggle to yourself. Maybe you should show some of these to him when you have a chance.

“Sooo, were you gonna grab something or did you just open the fridge to stand there looking like a dork?” You gasp and try to look behind you as hands wrap around your waist, the fluff of dark hair in your eyesight while his lips grazing your neck in a quick peck. You swat at his hands, your heart racing at the slight scare he gave you. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was grinning.

“Mark! You know you can’t just pop outta nowhere!” He chuckles, pulling you closer to him to feel the rumble of his chest on your back. You swear this man will be the death of you. Literally, he’s gonna give you a heart attack one day.

“Aww, I’m sorry my love. I just couldn’t resist~.” Rolling your eyes, you close the fridge doors as he still holds onto you. You start to squirm in his arms, hoping he’ll at least let you turn around to face him, but he only squeezes tighter. You try to look at him, placing your hands on his forearms.

“Umm, excuse me sir, but are you gonna let me go?” He snuggles his face in your hair, his nose rubbing against the nape of your neck.

“Hmm, and why would I do that?” You sigh, leaning on him while looking around for some excuse to make up. You finally rest your eyes on stove, looking at the knobs and handle of the oven. What were you even doing in the kitchen? You came in here for a reason and just what were you gonna do? Your attention snaps to the sound of the fridge opening again, one hand reaching for eggs while his other still resting around your waist. That’s right!

“I was gonna make you breakfast!” He lets you go to place the eggs down on the island, looking over at you with a lazy smile. Before he could go back to get more stuff, you squirm your way between him and fridge, feeling the cold air on your skin. He cocks an eyebrow up at you, the smile never leaving his face. “Oh, is that so?” You nod, turning around to quickly think of something to make. Eggs, butter, leftover rice and-! You got it! You run over to the cupboards to grab the one thing you need along with the spices, him moving out the way as you place your ingredients down.

“Yup, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast, but I guess I got distracted,” you chuckle nervously. When you glance back at him, he shakes his head while leaning against the counter opposite you. You watch as the muscles in his arms flex with the motion before paying attention back to him, his head tilted to the side in a curious expression.

“Well, I guess we had the same idea.” You can’t hide the surprise on your face as he waits for a response. He was gonna make you breakfast? You feel warm and fuzzy starting to bloom in your chest at the thought but then push it away, your competitive side getting an idea.  He sighs after a moment. “I know that look, what are you planning?” A grin starts to form on your lips as you try to feign innocence.

“Oh nothing…I was just thinking, maybe we could have a cook off? See whose breakfast is better..” You can see the glint in his eyes after saying that, his grin matching yours as he walks over to your side.

“Yea? And what’s the prize of winning?” You shrug coyly, stepping away from him to grab a small pan.

“Bragging rights? Loser has to do chores for a week?” You’d hope he would take the bait. Knowing how competitive you both are, you were simply waiting for him to raise the stakes. He tsks, shaking his head.

“Chores for a week and loser has to do something for the winner, whatever they pick.” There is was. If you win, there could be a bunch of possibilities for you: make him give you a massage, record him doing aeygo, dress him up in something ridiculous and send him out in public. The list was endless. But you had to be sure he wouldn’t back down from this, so you peered over at him with eyebrows raised.

“So the loser has to do whatever the winner wants them to do?” He doesn’t back down, his grin only getting wider as he shrugs.

“I’m a man of my word. I just can’t wait to do whatever I want to you.” There was no way in hell you were gonna lose. You nod, getting excited to see him eat his words.

“Deal. Let’s go!”

You both run around the kitchen, trying to get whatever you needed for your dish. The rest of the guys kept snapchatting you, making you pause and talk about whatever came to mind to your boyfriend: how your sister was doing, how Kelly from work was causing drama, etc. He would nod occasionally, commenting here and there before reminding you to focus on making the food.

You guys started playing music, letting whatever genre play out. Since your home more often than Mark, most of the music was more up your alley: reggaeton, rap, pop, just overall upbeat music. You were swinging your hips and just moving along the beat. Mark would join in with you and sing the songs he knew the words to. You almost brunt the rice and spam had it not been for him.  You were just about to make the eggs and toast when you heard your ringtone go off.

Checking your phone, you open a snap of Coco and whine. You throw your arm around his shoulder, peering over in his pan before showing him your phone.

“Look, Mark, it’s Coco! Aww, we should get a dog!” He laughs, his hands busy flipping something in the pan.

“Haha maybe, but then what kind of dog would we get?” Mulling it over, you chew on your lip. Hmm what kind of dog? You didn’t know. A boxer? Maybe a small dog? Ugh why was this hard?  “Hey, by the way, you want sweet or savory?”  At least you knew the answer to that question.

“Sweet, always.” Glancing over at you, he sneaks a quick kiss from your lips before putting the food on a plate. Damn, he’s making crepes.

“Okay, I’m almost done with your dish. What about you?” Shit, the eggs and toast! He laughs when he sees your bulging eyes. “I’m guessing not.” You shake your head, heading back to your side of the stove.

“Ahhh, how many eggs do you want?” He faces his back to you, blocking you from seeing what else he was doing to your food.

“Two.” Turning on the fire, you toss in the butter and eggs. While that sizzles, you rush over to the loaf of bread and turn back to Mark, him rinsing something before moving back to the cutting broad.

“How many pieces of toast?” He hums for a second, the sound of chopping coming from his hands.

“Just one.” You quickly turn the toaster on and place the bread inside before heading back to the pan, grabbing a spatula. You pray that the eggs don’t break as you flip it over, looking like the prefect over easy eggs. Just as you’re patting yourself on the back for this, you spot Mark eyeing you with a grin on his face as if he were a child at a candy store. You give him a look, trying to hide as much of the pan from his view as possible with your body.

“You better not be peaking at your breakfast!” He shakes his head and laughs, turning back to his hands.

“I don’t need to peak to know that I’m gonna win this battle.” You chuckle mockingly, checking on the eggs.

“Oo ho, is that so? Aight, bet!” After a few seconds, you slide the eggs onto the plate, next to the fried rice and spam. You see in the corner of your eye, Mark going back and forth before covering his creation and placing it on the island.

“Sooo, you done?” Covering your own meal, you spin around and cross your arms causally.

“As soon as the toaster is done, I will be.” He chuckles, leaning over the island with his hands clasped together.

“Sooo…” You lean over across from him, matching his goofy grin.

“Sooo…” He tilts his head to the side, dancing a lil to the beat of whatever song was playing.

“You come here often?” You burst out laughing, watching his eyes crinkle in joy as you hit his arm lightly.

“You dork!” He keeps dancing, walking around the island until he grabs your hands, bringing you close and spinning you both around. He begins to hum along to the lyrics, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You need to make me lovestained…” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull his face in to give him a kiss.  His arms tighten around your body as you continue, open-mouthed while you run your fingers though his hair. He brings his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks before breaking away and grinning, your noses touching as he just stares at you lovingly. “God, I can never get tired of looking at you.”

You begin to open your mouth to say something when the toaster rings, Mark stepping away from you and walking back to his side of the island. You feel your cheeks burn from his remark while you turn around and busy your hands to put some butter on the toast. He could be such a sap sometimes and him making your heart swell right not was not fair!

Facing him once more, you place the toast next to your dish and grin.

“Alright lover-boy, who’s going first?” Shaking his head at the nickname, he shrugs.

“Up to you.” You know you’re gonna win so you have an idea, smirking at him while sliding your dish closer to him.

“How about, we open each other’s dish at the same time? That way we can enjoy our food without the other getting cold?”

You honestly you thought you would win the battle but when you both revealed your dishes, your mouth began to water at the sight. Mark had made you strawberry crepes, the cream and strawberry looking like heaven on a plate. You had tossed a glance at his face, catching the hunger in his eyes looking at your food. You knew both of you didn’t wanna admit the other was the winner, so you just started eating. But as soon as the cream touched your tongue, you couldn’t stop the moan coming from your mouth. Mark snickered and leaned closer.

“So, I win?” You had two options: admit defeat or be stubborn. To be honest, you could try to deny it all you want but you already knew the answer. On the other hand though, admitting defeat means he’s gonna make you do anything he wants. So you just scoff, trying to act like you didn’t just moan at how good Mark’s cooking is.

“Please, I was just so hungry that I got excited to have the food in my mouth.” He leans close, the smirk on his face only getting wider while holding a fork up to his lips.

“Oh yeah? Well I thought I fed you enough last night, you kept begging me to-” You quickly scoop a forkful of fried rice and shove it in his mouth before he could finish the sentence, scoffing at him.

“Stop making it sound dirty. I kept begging for some chicken wings while you refused and we still ended up getting take out. ” After swallowing his food, he tilts his head to the side with a grin.

“You gotta admit that that Thai place was pretty good though.” You sigh, looking away from him.

“Yea, it was pretty good. Anyways, eat your food.” Chuckling, he begins scarfing down his food while you try not to swallow your food in one go. You both keep glancing at each other to see if the one of you will admit defeat.

You end up finishing first and watch him as he eats, a smile planted on his face the whole time. He flashes a wink and grabs your hand, drawing circles with his thumb onto your skin while eating the rest of his food with his other hand. When he places his fork on the now empty plate, you kiss his cheek and pick up the plate, letting go of him to put it in the sink.

“I hope you’re not planning on washing the dishes.” Turning around, you stick your tongue out at him.

“And why not?” Getting up, he walks over, his eyes never leaving yours while placing his hands on either side of you.

“You still haven’t told me who won.” You poke his chest.

“Neither have you.” Shaking his head, he leans close to bring his lips against yours, his hands now moving to your hips. When he pulls back, his eyes dance with mirth.

“How about we both say what we think?” You nod, your hands placed on his chest.

“Alright, count of three: one-” He grins.

“Two-” You laugh.

“Three.  I won.”

“I won.” Gasping, you smack his chest while he chuckles. “Oh come on, I made you your favorite!” You step away and pout, crossing your arms.

“And you seemed to really enjoy my breakfast.” He nods thoughtfully, his fingers snaking through your arms and bringing your hand up to his mouth, lightly kissing your fingertips. You refused to give in and just stare at him despite feeling a blush creeping onto your face.

“Of course I enjoyed it, love. You made it for me.” Ooooo what a smooth talker. “So who won?” You figure you should be just a lil petty, just to mess with him a bit. He lets you go while you go to grab your phone, seeing notifications from the boys before turning back to him and grinning. You have a good amount of space between you, perfect for what’s gonna happen.

“I won and you can’t change my mind.” He raises an eyebrow, his lips pulling into a teasing smirk. “Oh yea? And what if,” he pauses, looking down before meeting your gaze, a playful glint in his eyes. You take a slow step back, waiting for the right moment. “I tickle it out of you?!” Now!

You run away, laughing madly as he chases after you, through the hall and finally diving into your bed, trying to hide under the covers but Mark’s way too fast for you. He jumps on the bed, pinning you under him as he tickles your sides.

“How you like that?!” You try to wiggle and squirm out of his grip but its no use, you cackle like crazy before you reach out and get him back. You manage to tickle his sides as well, using your momentum to roll over and get on top of him, his laughter filling the room.

“And how about you?!” You both can’t stop laughing, a sea of flying limbs and booming voices going on. If anyone came in, they would think you guys were crazy but you honestly didn’t care. This went on for a bit longer with either you or him on top of the other, having no clear winner. You guys called a time-out, laying on the bed and panting.

“Whoof, that was fun.”

“Yea….” Tring to catch your breath, you stare at the ceiling and listen to his panting. Nothing is said for minute before you break the silence.

“Soooo, you wanna cuddle?” He sighs, sitting up to look down at you.

“Oh god yes. Come here.” He moves over to lay on his pillow, lifting his arm up as an invitation and you waste no time to crawl over and curl into his side. Wrapping his arm around you, he hands you your phone. “By the way, you might wanna answer Yugyeom. He texted you six times already.” Your eyes widen, you totally forgot to get back to him  about doing a campaign with him.

“Shit. Hey, wanna do a CoD campaign with me and Yugyeom later? He said he’s bringing Mortal Kombat too.” He chuckles.

“Is that why he’s texting you?’ You nod, starting to text him back.

“Yea, he wanted to hang with us and I forgot to respond to him last night.” He shakes his head, smiling.

“Sure why not? Have him come over later so we can do it together.” Answering Yugyeom, you send a text and then open up tumblr.

“Bet. Hey, babe look at the memes people made of you guys.” Scrolling to your likes, you show him your phone. He scrunches his face as he goes through them, sometimes laughing, grinning, or cringing at the stuff.

“The stuff they come up with is always surprising..” You nudge him slightly.

“it’s just their way of showing their support and love.” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “You think I should make an account?” Shaking your head, you laugh.

“Hahaha no, don’t. If they find out you made an account, all hell would break loose….Have Bambam make a fake account.”

“Okayyy?” Resting your hand on his stomach, you keep scrolling.

“Trust me. Bambam could pull off having a fake account, so could Jackson but he might slip up.”

“You really thought about this, didn’t you?”

“Yup.” You get sent a link of an interview of BM from Sunny, Mark closing his eyes and you lower phones volume.

As the video plays, you get a pop up of an order receipt from your email. You click it and see an order made for a ring. You certainly don’t remember ordering anything recently. The interview still plays on in the corner of your phone while you stare at the receipt, completely ignoring whatever the people in the video were saying.

“Mark?” He slowly opens his eyes, peering at you from his eyelids.

“Hmm?” You show him your phone.

“Did you order a ring online?” His eyes go cartoonishly wide and snatches the phone outta your hand. You watch in shock as he hovers over your phone and tries to hide from you. After a few seconds, he flashes a weak smile.  “Uhhh, what was that?”

“Just a big fan of BM.” Just then, the video screams “Big Tiddie Gang!”, and Mark laughs nervously. You just look at him, knowing damn well he was lying.

“Mark, did you place an order for the ring?” He looks around until he feels your stare and slumps.

“Ugh, fine. Yes, I placed the order for the ring. I was gonna ask you to marry me when it came in and all that.” You feel your heart catch in your throat as he doesn’t look you and fiddles with the blanket. You sit up and jump on him, kissing him as you fall on the bed.  He doesn’t fight you as he kisses you back, his arms wrapped around your back. You laugh as you look back and see his shocked expression. “What was-”

“It took you long enough!” His shock turns into laughter, squeezing you close and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Well excuse me for trying to plan something romantic.” You scoff and pull away, looking down at him.

“Screw romantic.  You could’ve just asked me with a ring pop and I’d be happy.” He laughs again.

“So it that a yes?” Rolling your eyes, you give him a pointed look. “Of course, it’s a yes!” You curl into his embrace, resting your head on his chest. You couldn’t help feeling like everything just felt right in the world in this moment. Knowing that this man wanted to spend his life with you and having all the time to show him what he meant to you made your eyes prick up. You refused to cry from happiness and instead grinned.

“Sooo, you’re a fan of BM and the big tiddie gang?” He laughs loudly, kissing the top of your head.

“Shut up.”

[toomicsguide]

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