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charmedreincarnation · 4 months

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Hey guysss! A lot of people have been asking for me to make a challenge for a while now. I honestly didn’t want to, not because I’m against them or anything but because the law will be different for everyone. Sometimes, it feels like tumblr needs a reminder - you are the only person who knows what you need to do to succeed. I wish I could imprint this realization on everyone's minds. I’ve also gotten so manyyyy asks about things that genuinely just feel like your doubts repeating in your mind constantly so I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs bc y’all are spiraling really hard. I get it you want your desires for Christmas and new years. It’s okay take a breath, you're alive and will be okay.

Firstly: at the beginning I used to spend countless time spiraling into depression, constantly changing my methods every time I saw a new success story, and every time I found a new foolproof' tumblr method. Methods that were supposed to guarantee results in a day so when they didn’t I felt rlly useless. It was annoying, to say the least, and I don’t want to help others do the same thing, but really all I can do is reiterate what I always say and hope you apply it to everything!!

A lot of you guys wanted something that didn’t involve the void state, so that’s what this will revolve around! But feel free to make this void orientated if you desire, and I’ll also add a void section so all my babies can eat!

Ok so you’ve over consumed, you have dropped the void, and now have switched to just assuming and knowing that you would wake up with your dream life - embracing states. Great! At first, it will seem like you're doing nothing but you aren’t! For example, I knew I was dwelling in the state of wish fulfilled when I went to work without shedding tears, when I looked in the mirror and didn't think I was ugly because, well, I'm beautiful! I didn't care abt not performing well on a test because I could revise my past etc. this isn’t to say ignore the 3D: don’t do that, please try and make sure you’re safe and okay. But know life is malleable. Slowly, things that used to bother me—my parents, grades, anxiety, self-deprivation—started to fade away. Even though my dream life hadn't reflected in my 3D yet, I felt the switch. That's when I decided, I know what to do.

I also remember finding this cute website a long time ago that I want to share that summarizes it in such a great and simple way.

So Before I knew or understood what LOA was, I found this gem of an article on I am Love'- "How To Shift Into A State & Stay There". I think I have a post abt it somewhere on my blog but I’m too lazy to find it so here it is again.

Basically it explains that the essence of shifting into a desired state and staying there. What resonated with me was her choice to dwell in the state of knowing that her desires are hers, no matter what.

The way she used colloquial language made the content relatable and easy to understand. It's like having a conversation with a friend who's guiding you through hard concepts with “dumbed down” language because at the beginning states made 0 sense to me.

Posts like this really helped me particularly because when I discovered Neville, it required three attempts on my part to not only intellectually grasp his teachings, but also to truly comprehend him as a whole, given his non-contemporary speaking tbh.

I recommend it if you find yourself stuck or not really grasping the law yet (which is more than okay) but, if you're looking to understand the loa better or just learn more give this article a read.

There’s also a particular quote from Neville that really got me to dive into his work after finding this article and it was- “The being that you really are, descended to the weakness of the flesh, causing you to experience the state you are now in. Contemplate another state, and the same being who brought your present form into being will restore and make alive the other state, the state desired. This he will continue to do until his purpose is fulfilled. That purpose is to follow a certain pattern back into the unity of being. You see, in the beginning we were drafted. We did not volunteer to fall into these states. We were made subject into futility, not willingly but by the will of him who sent us. But when we return we will discover that we are the very being who subjected us. We are now the sons, destined to return as God the Father!”

Now that you understand and are ready to apply state, Here’s a routine I’ve created to hopefully help you guys! It is very simple and not time consuming at all.

Scripting and writing: I love writing and feeling like the author of my own story, literally bringing my creation to life. I would write when I felt like it. Whenever I wanted to dwell in my state, I would simply write, "I have my dream life." It's so simple, yet it embodies everything I need. If you’re more of a picture girl, use Pinterest instead. Or both if you prefer it doesn’t matter.

Edward arts' "I am creator meditation": Again, do this whenever you like it. It's one of the few meditations that didn't bore me to death and seemed to work with my ADHD. I also love reading, so I would read his pdf whenever I felt like it and take mental notes. Reading his work was a reminder I was doing everything right, it resonated with me very well.

During doubt and overstimulation: When things get overwhelming, close your eyes and let the emotions pass. They’re just thoughts! repeat the words "I am" until your heart returns to its normal rhythm. It's a simple yet powerful way to ground yourself amidst the whirlwind of emotions. And guess what? You can use this technique for doubt too! So the next time you're feeling overwhelmed, remember the power of "I am". It's a gentle reminder of your existence, your resilience, and your capability to be whatever you want despairs any emotional turmoil.

Thank god: (yourself!!) When reminded of your desires. Thank you god. When you see your desires, (eg:Pinterest, online or you’re just reminded) thank you god! When you see an image of your desires, thank you god! When you dream or think about your desires. Thank god! Always thank the person fulfilling it aka you ;)! If you’re religious just thank the god you actually follow.

Nightly reflections: At night, ask yourself , "What would I do if I woke up in my dream life right now?" repeat this question throughout the night. Then, imagine whatever scene you want. What would you do if you could not fail? What would you do if you had all the money in the world right now. What if you looked in the mirror and saw the most ethereal being and it’s just you? What about if you woke up in your dream house with your dream family and pets? This is inspired by one of the first shifting methods I created that helped me fulfill my imagination before I knew what that meant. When you’re ready to sleep just remind yourself it is done, and drift off into your desires.

As I've always said, I've been a great daydreamer. I knew exactly what I wanted my life to look and feel like. I envisioned my walk-in closet filled with luxurious outfits, waking up in my dream room on a soft mattress with my pets purring nearby. I saw the decor reflecting my personality in every corner of my large, and pretty room. I imagined walking into my bathroom, seeing all my cool Sephora products lined up for my skincare and shower routine. I love taking care of myself because I know I deserve it. I saw myself looking in the mirror, knowing I'm "that girl" who turns heads wherever she goes.I visualized going downstairs in my boujee dream house,and seeing my family stress-free, smiling, and eating well. I saw plans being made on my phone, my friends were excited to see and talk to me. I went to my kitchen, filled with expensive ingredients ready for me to cook meals for my loved ones - because I love cooking. I saw myself checking my bank account and seeing multiple seven figures in my savings, checking, and investment accounts and opportunities easily presenting myself to make more if I wanted. I saw myself running errands in my car, shopping, getting Starbucks, having expensive lunch with friends, and making a trip to Target. Despite the simplicity of the day, I would come home and be like, "Ugh, what a long day!"like that one khloe kardashian meme. What if all this happened today? Visualize and feel the scenes so clearly that it felt like it's already happening.. not just in your imagination.

Most importantly: Define the law for you! Stop parroting bloggers and intertwine your own beliefs with the law. The only principle of the law is that through persistence assumption will harden into a fact. Other than that anything goes except for facts that are wrong.

Here’s old notes I found in my phone lol just so you know what I mean by define the law for you: ignore the writing I was kinda dumb and new to the law 😭😭

Now this is for my void babies if you made it this far.

Read this post.

This is it copied bc the links are wonky sometimes

“My previous method is based on the persistent assumption, which a lot of people don’t know how to do right and it might take some time even for those who have the right self-concept and the mindset, so today I was in the process of manifesting this method.

And I was successful!

This method is for everyone. It’s the easiest Void method.

Do you know that you get into the Void state at night automatically? At that time the whole perceived world disappears for you. Every single perception and assumption you have disappears while your consciousness in the calm and natural Void state.

Use it to your advantage. Now that you know about the Void that you enter when you sleep, the perfect state to manifest anything that you wish to perceive, with no “resistance”, no illusions of annoying solid things around, you only need to remember your scripted starting point in your DR and practice watching it all coming out of the Void.

Practice that scene with your eyes closed, say to yourself:”That is what I perceive. Next time I’m in the Void, I’ll experience this”. You won’t even need to be fully aware of yourself that way when you get into the Void while you are asleep. Your subconscious would do all the work as it now would have the instruction and a clear image of you expecting it.

Personal experience: as I was receiving information on this method, I almost stepped into my DR! I wasn’t even in the absolute void state, I was only creating the scene for this method and I felt it materialise with my senses!

I have great feeling that it’s going to give fast results for others! Try it, teach your subconscious what it needs to bring forth while in the Void, let it do your work for you!”

Lastly, I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs real quick bc the fear of shifting vs manifesting makes me sad for y’all. I understand you don’t wanna leave behind the people you love and that’s not fear to feel ashamed of having! I personally hate the npc mindset a lot of have people have adopted. The only thing we know for sure is that assumptions create realities, and consciousness is the real reality. Everything else boils down to assumptions, except for principles. For example, shifting is not lucid dreaming, even if you assume it to be. That is the principle. I’m just going to copy what I told my mutal bc I’m lazy and need to finish Christmas stuff 😭😭 but Our imagination and the 4D realm are products of our consciousness, which is indeed real. Our view of reality is shaped by our consciousness, since we can't experience everything all at once.

Unless, of course, you shift into a super omnipotent god. Even then, you’d probably still struggle with the concept of infinity because, well, infinity is infinite. And it’s constantly a never exnding expansion. As humans, we're finite beings, and our understanding of the infinite is naturally limited. Because you can’t and won’t ever experience everything at once, infinity is always expanding. Our awareness can be thought of as fragments of consciousness; it's like being a drop of water in a massive ocean. Even though our perception is limited, the infinite is always there, always existing. We simply adjust our awareness to perceive this infinite reality.

And through our consciousness, we are able to tap into other realities or 'multiverses', which give us a broader understanding of existence. This exploration of consciousness and the multiverse is a significant part of my journey into the world of manifestation.

The law of consciousness explains why, when you "shift" or change your perspective, you don't physically move. It's all about altering your state of awareness. This is also why time doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. You can become aware of any time or day you want, as long as you choose to be aware of it. It's like having a mental time machine. This law is why infinite universes exist. As long as you can be aware of it, you can assume and embody the state of that person. Whether that's someone with a billion dollars on Earth, or a person who lives in the Attack on Titan world, it's all about your awareness.Our awareness is just a fragment of the larger consciousness – hence the idea of the multiverse. Each universe is a different fragment, a different state of awareness. And we have the power to “shift” into any of these states, therefore shifting into any of these universes.

I’m telling you this bc there’s no need to be afraid of manifesting or being in a reality with robotic versions of the people you love. Ariana grande and Marilyn Monroe for example talk about loa without acknowledging it and we see their success. Neville Goddard and his followers saw each other’s manifestions and I manifest for my friends and they mnaifest for me.

Take a deep breath and let go of the tik tok clone mindsets y’all have they don’t exist. You can manifest and assume anything you want in your imagination. Y’all literally want to manifest things like millions of dollars, revising deaths, living in new countries, having immorality in your waiting rooms, and never aging which is all possible of course. So be for real, why assume and know that you can achieve all that, but it won't manifest exactly how you want? I've also wondered about what happens to the "old version" of people when they manifest their dream life. As far as I'm concerned, they dont exist because you choose not to be aware of them.

I really want to talk about this too, as I've received similar questions and, oh my god, I thought I was alone. I've always been a bit delusional and lived in my head, but when I became conscious of the law, did anyone else feel a sense of self-embarrassment? I don't know what that was, but I'd genuinely feel my soul wanting to throw up envisioning my desires that aren't mine, even though I've always been a daydreamer. It's kind of like when you feel you can't have them or it's strange to envision yourself with something you can't have, so you just purge yourself. 😭

I was thinking back to why that happened and laughing at myself because we need to be serious right now. Why are you getting sick by your own mind? Imagine if Van Gogh, anytime he pulled out a canvas and held a brush, was jump-scared by the brush. Picture him holding out the brush and just staring at the canvas crying because "well, the painting is going to suck 😐," "I don't know what to paint☹️☹️," "I already know it won't be like what I envision in my head 😡😡." Like, bro, the canvas is blank, just fucking paint. That’s why I really like his quote that's like...

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” So If you’re scared of failing, if you’re scared of your desires, or scared of how it will come to fruition, for that reason alone is more so to and manifest it anyways.

But happy holidays guys! make some tea, scroll through Pinterest, read a good book and watch some Christmas films and remember if you can imagine/think your desires you can embody them bc where are you getting it from??

Here are some helpful documents I have read plus a cute vid I saw on insta reels : (let me know if the links are being weird)

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#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #my asks

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tlbodine · 6 months

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Stuck? Try junebugging.

I don't know who needs to hear this, but we're 5 days into nanowrimo so maybe this will be helpful.

Do you want the safety and surety of knowing what happens next in your story but can't stick to an outline? Does knowing in advance what will happen suck the joy out of discovery writing? Do you try to wing it through plots but get tangled in plot holes or have a story that runs out of steam because you can't figure out what went wrong? Are you at your most creative when you have a little bit of guidance? Do you tend to under-write? Do you get ideas in your head for random scenes and snippets that drop from the sky without context?

If any of these apply to you, junebugging a draft might be for you!

What Is Junebugging?

Since you're on Tumblr, you might already be familiar with the concept of junebugging as it relates to cleaning. If not -- I think the idea was first introduced to me by @jumpingjacktrash.

The basic idea is that you tackle cleaning by way of controlled chaos. You pick a specific area you want to focus on, like your kitchen sink, and then wander off to deal with other things as they occur to you, but always returning back to that area. You end up cleaning a little bit at a time in an order that may not make sense to an outsider but which keeps you from getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

How Does Junebugging Work in Writing?

OK, so that's great, but how does this work with writing? Well. In my case, the general idea is to jump between writing linearly, outlining, and writing out of order. It usually looks something like:

Start free-writing a scene, feeling my way through it and enjoying the discovery process.

Thinking, ok, now I have this scene, did anything need to happen to lead up to it? Do I need to go back and add some foreshadowing? Does this scene set anything up that needs to be paid off? And then jump forward/back to make those adjustments.

I'll usually have a bunch of disconnected ideas of ideas that have popped into my head, so I'll write those down in a list somewhere and then try to figure out what goes in between them and what order it goes in.

I'll write what I call "micro-scenes" which is where I'll just sketch out a few essential elements of what's going on without worrying too much about details, description, etc. -- just he did this, she said that, the setting was this, real bare-bones script. Then I can come back through and flesh out each of those microscenes into an actual scene later.

Got a story that has a complex structure? No problem. Write through each storyline one at a time and then chop them up and weave them together afterward. Write all the B plot scenes first then come back through to do A plot and C plot. Move the pieces around like legos. No one ever has to know.

This method works for me because I can't "decide" story elements in advance. I have never been able to just sit down and "figure out" what happens in a story beyond a couple steps ahead -- I have to discovery-write my way forward. But at the same time, that gets really daunting. So I zoom forward with micro-scenes, roughing out the beats in the most bare-bones way possible, then when I run out of clear vision for what happens next I backtrack, flesh out those scenes, build in connective tissue, etc. and by then I will probably find more inspiration to jump forward.

It's basically folding drafting, outlining, and revising all together into a single phase of writing, which is chaotic and goes against everything people teach you, but if it works? then it fuckin works.

Anyway, sorry for the jumbled-up post, I'm dashing this off quickly while I heat up a pizza and I'm about to dive back into my WIP -- but I hope this was a little helpful. If nothing else, take this as my blanket permission that it's 100% OK to jump around, write out of order, write messy, outline sometimes, pants sometimes, and do whatever else it takes just to get through the story. You've got this. Good luck.

#writing tips #nanowrimo #writing advice #nano 2023 #writeblr #writing community #plotting vs pantsing #junebugging

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aloesarchives · 5 months

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JJK Headcanon: Megumi cockblocks Toji/Megumi "Menace" Fushiguro/ Toji having beef with his 15 yr old son

Warning: Swearing, Female reader, Mentions of sexual activities but not explicit, ooc on Megumi’s part, Toji being Toji

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader(romantic), Megumi x Mom!reader(parental/platonic)

Pronouns: She/Her(Reader is referred to as mom, mama, and mother by Toji and Megumi)

Word Count: 2.2K

(A/N: This is based on my one-shot I did and I wanted to expand on it because I just felt the need to. This headcanon went off the rails and is in different directions. Let me know if I missed any warnings!)

[Edited and Proofread! on 12/9/23 8:05pm. Forgive the strange format, Tumblr wouldn’t let me edit the post so I had to do it on the original doc and paste the edited version.]

Please enjoy!

So Megumi cock blocking Toji started out unintentionally and by accident. But as he got older, he did it more to annoy his dad and get on his nerves.

I will die on this hill but Megumi is a Mama's boy. Though it goes unsaid(by him at least), everyone knows it. Toji knows it, Gojo knows it, his classmates and friends know it, and everyone at Jujutsu High knows it. Hell, his own shadows know it.

Obviously you know it but you don’t want to embarrass your son. But it does fill you with love and contentment to know your son loves you dearly.

But that’s the problem, he LOVES you. Loves you more than Toji. Well, Megumi loves Toji as a dad and father. It’s just as he gets older, especially as a teenager, he often butts heads with Toji and gets fairly annoyed by his presence. All Toji has to do is breathe in Megumi’s direction and your son groans, rolls his eyes, and leaves.

When Megumi was younger, he was attached to you. You were always carrying him inside the house, when you were cooking, and even when folding the laundry. He didn’t like being far from you. All you had to do was be within 6 feet of your son or where he can see you and he will be fine.

So when Toji holds Megumi because you need to get or do something where you can’t bring your son, Megumi is all fussy and cranky. He doesn’t cry often but he is just all over Toji. Pulling at his hair, shirt, and cheek. Toji has been mostly successful with Megumi when putting him down for a nap, feeding or bathing him but sometimes it’s a struggle.

When you do it for Megumi, he is all cooperative and easy to handle. Toji clicks his tongue when he sees it happen and looks at Megumi as your son nuzzles into your shoulder. “I see how it is Megumi. All nice and easy for Mama but not for me.”

After successfully putting Megumi to bed, Toji gets frisky as wants some alone time with you. Since Megumi was born, your son has taken up most of your time. Leaving your poor husband with a lack of attention and affection. You want to make it up to him for lost time so you let him have his way with you.

However, just before Toji could go down on you and make you see stars, you hear Megumi’s crying. So out of instinct, you grab one of Toji’s shirts and make your way to comfort your son. Half the time, the mood gets instantly lost and Toji gets sexually frustrated. He was so close to boning you and your son just has to stop him from doing so.

Toji gets blue balls so many times during Megumi’s youth, it’s a straight-up crime to him.

There are times when Toji doesn’t care if Megumi starts to cry in his bed. He read somewhere that babies just cry for no reason so at times let them cry it out. When he reads that, he’s not letting you out of his grasp when his son is crying in his crib. You feel the urge to comfort him but when Toji makes you wait a couple minutes and start to hear Megumi’s cries grow quieter, then they stop. That gives you two the green light to each other to yourselves.

75% Toji would have success with you but there was the other 25% he didn’t.

When Megumi was a toddler, he mostly would knock on your door in the dead of night either because he had a nightmare or wanted to sleep with you two. Luckily, this happens after your “nightly session” with Toji.

But Megumi would ask Toji to help him with stuff or pop up out of nowhere when wanted to have a piece of you. Toji hugging your front and cups your body while you cook? Megumi is by the kitchen table asking what are you making for dinner. Toji cages you against the wall as you put away the laundry? Megumi pops his head out of his room and asks Toji if he saw his dog plushie that was on his bed.

But Megumi’s clinginess to you is genetic because Toji is the exact same to you. Way before Megumi was on the drawing board, Toji was either all over you or near you. No in between, it was one or the other.

You felt bad because it feels like your son and your husband are fighting for your attention. You know Megumi’s a child, who needs more guidance and help, but you know your husband has needs too.

But as Megumi goes to school, it was easier for you two to have some alone time. Mostly easier for Toji to be inside of you.

But as Megumi gets the hang of summoning his shadows, it’s all over for Toji. This happens when he’s older as Megumi sometimes lets his dogs out and roam around the house. Like their user, the dogs and shadows love you too. One time, they saw Toji being too close to you and thought he was harassing you. So the dogs ran and pounced on Toji. One of them caught Toji’s wrists in their mouth and started pulling him away from you. Obviously, you called Megumi over to stop his dogs or to call them back. He does so but not without giving Toji a smirk, he definitely may or may not put his dogs up to it just to fuck around with his dad.

For the timely and observant boy he is, Megumi really is just popping in at the wrong times. He didn’t mean to do that to you, he’s well aware of how much you love Toji, both body and soul. He just doesn’t like how Toji isn’t quick and sleek with his intentions with you. Sure, it was Toji’s house and he can do whatever he wants in it. But Megumi also lives here too, so Toji should be more cautious and considerate of his son. Because everyone knows that they would rather bury themselves than see their parents try to give them another sibling.

Though Megumi now dorms at Jujutsu High because of missions, he does come home on weekends and breaks. But it varies from time to time, he would mostly tell you in advance when he would come home or visit. But he sometimes forgets and just drops by unannounced.

Thus, that’s how scenarios like this occur.

He will come home, sometimes knocking/ringing the doorbell but mostly lets himself in, then he walks inside, takes off his shoes, and goes to the living room. His heart slightly beats faster as he awaits the inevitable. It’s like a coin toss, 50/50 chance he’ll be safe or not. He relaxes when he doesn't stumble upon another eye bleaching but when he encounters the other 50%. He cringes inside so hard, he just blames Toji. Nah, he never blames you.

Yes, he’s well aware of men and women having… carnal desires… But you were never shameless about it in public or out in the open. He doesn’t know when it’s just Toji and you. But frankly, he DOES NOT WANT to know or find out. So he believes his father is just a dog in heat almost every time there is an OUNCE of spare time with you.

He either coughs, grunts or speaks to make his presence known. 99% of the time when this happens you are the one to push yourself away from Toji and try to make the situation less awkward for your son. It always ends up embarrassing you in the end.

Toji, in his head, lowkey wants to smack his son to another dimension. Way too salty in his mind.

‘Brat, let me have a moment with your mother, it’s not that hard.’ ‘IDGAF if you're my son, I’ll smack and give hands to my own son if you keep doing this.’

Like father like son, Megumi is doing the same thing in his head.

‘That’s a skill issue’ ‘This is an issue, not an iss-me’ ‘You fell off, what happened? Cause you’re too old?’ ‘Fucking cope, Old Man’.

Because of this, Toji literally has beef with his 15-year-old son.

Should he be pressed about someone younger than him? No! Does he care? Also No. If this man can beef and fight Gojo Satoru and LIVE to see another day, he can have beef with anyone.

Even if it’s his own son.

You should be a good parent and spouse and try to dissipate the fact your husband and son have an unspoken feud with each other. But you can’t help but watch everything unfold when they interact sometimes because it’s just funny and you get a kick out of it.

Just to clarify, it’s never a shouting match or an actual argument. It’s more of petty insults, backhanded compliments, or brutal honesty minus the honesty. It’s like being a spectator at an event. You were watching for entertainment and you were getting your money’s worth. When you would come by Jujutsu High, you would talk about Megumi and Toji’s “interactions”. Saying something along the lines of “They don’t see eye to eye.”

One day, Toji and you decided to pay a visit to the campus because Principal Yagi needed to ask you about something in person. Since it was only you, Toji just wandered the halls and the school’s grounds, waiting for you to be done. As the odds were in his favor as he stumbled upon Megumi and his group doing some training. Toji just pops in and starts talking to Megumi. He acknowledged Yuuji and Nobara but he didn’t spare a glance at Gojo. In fact, he straight up looked at Gojo, gave a look of disgust, and continued talking to Megumi whilst ignoring him.

It didn’t take for some banter to rise between father and son, while no loud voices or malice was felt or seen. This was probably the few times Yuuji and Nobara had seen Megumi get heated, but this was the first time they saw Megumi beefing with his dad.

After a few minutes, Megumi summoned his shadows and Toji decided to change into his fighting stances. Yuuji thinks this is a bad idea but Gojo just smiles, saying that seeing them spar was a “learning experience”. Plus it would be good for Yuuji to watch Toji because Toji was a physical fighter considering his Heavenly Restriction. Though Yuuji has some curse energy, he must box it out with his opponents so he considered and the three watched the two fight it out.

Megumi forgot his old man was an actual threat to the Jujutsu Society because Toji was straight up dodging Megumi’s shadows, their attacks, and even Megumi's own physical attacks. Though Toji wanted to have a little fun, he had to hold back so he wouldn't destroy/kill any of Megumi’s shadows. If he did, you would definitely find out and he would be a dead man for sure.

Anyway, it was so fast-paced that only Gojo was keeping up with the action. He was smiling but he had a shiver up his spine as he remembered that Megumi’s dad was the very reason for his enlightenment and Hollow Purple ability. It was obvious that Megumi wasn’t going to win but he wasn’t one to admit defeat. Then like a blur, Toji charged at Megumi from above and when he landed he created a decently large cater with Megumi at the center. Megumi’s shadows disappear since he is low on curse energy and is completely exhausted.

Both men were heaving and sweating like crazy. Yet out of nowhere, they suddenly hear your voice, LOUD and DESTRESS. You ran over to the two, eyes widening as the carter became bigger the closer you got. You see your son lying on the floor and help him up. You tried dusting off some of the dirt on him while looking concerned. You snapped your head towards Toji, whose smirk disappeared and then returned back again. You began to reprimand him for what he had done. Fighting his own son and damaging the training grounds, like wtf man.

You weren’t really raising your voice or yelling at him. But the firmness and seriousness in your tone about the small sparring session was enough to make someone straighten their posture and use very respective language towards you. There were moments where you tugged at Toji’s ear, pulled at his shirt so he was looking straight at you, or held his forearm tightly while you expressed your disappointment and concerns to him.

Ngl, Toji was a bit bricked up when you were all serious and angry at him. He didn’t mind sleeping on the couch if it meant he got to see this side of yours more often.

Megumi reassures you that he is not physically hurt but his pride is wounded. You told him that if his dad pulled this again, to not engage with it and back off for his own safety. Megumi, because of his agitated mood, felt a bit offended that you didn’t believe your own son could hold his own. Let alone, go toe to toe with his own father.

“Mom, I don’t understand. Why don’t you trust me in fights even though I can handle myself.”

“Megumi, sweetheart, it’s not like that at all. I know you are a strong, smart, and capable person. You are my son, after all.”

“Then why don’t you want me to fight with dad?”

“Oh Megumi, honey. You have no idea the strength and capabilities of your father. You do realize, my dear, your dad was holding back a lot when he was sparring with you.”

Megumi looks shocked at his Pops, who winks at him, before turning his attention back to you.

“Wait, what? Just how strong is he, Mom?”

You didn’t give him a full answer.

All you said was, “Ask your teacher, Megumi.”

Megumi and his two classmates look at their teacher to see what you were talking about all the while Gojo was sweating bullets. That’s a story for another day, now you are dragging your husband home and telling your son to call you if anything changes.

So Toji and Megumi have eternal beef with each other. Though it’s more of annoyance and for shits and giggles really. Toji really does love his son and Megumi loves and respects his dad a lot.

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Thank you for reading and hope you have an amazing day with your favorite drink!

#x reader #reader insert #x female reader #fem reader #jjk x reader #jjk toji #jjk megumi #jjk headcanons #jjk #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x y/n #toji x you #dad!toji #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #toji fushigro x reader

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maehemthemisfit · 9 months

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because tumblr hates me i'm posting it again. if you want to see the original ask/post it's here!

he's so sly sometimes, and even when you catch on to his act, he blinks his pretty eyes and plays coy, feighning innocence with a hand to his chest at your accusatory tone.

no, no, no! that wasn't his intentions! he was solely focused on the trick and nothing else. if anything, he makes it seem like you're at fault for your mind wandering to such things. Is he really to blame if you're the one being distracted by his "unintentional" charm?

he chuckles at the way you get choked up over his words. he's just so good at twisting them in his favour that it's hard to think of a rebuttle.

in the mist of your flustered state, he takes the opportunity to shower you with affection, planting feverent kisses that bloom warmth across your face, his hands pulling you closer to meet his lips.

the harmonious tune of your laughter mixes together, cards long forgotten somewhere on the table as Lyney embraces you.

after his lips finally depart yours, those purple eyes of his gaze fondly into yours, halflidded and joined by a smile adorning his face. you swear you could see the stars in his midnight eyes if you looked long enough.

"so, what other tricks can you show me?" you mused, flipping his hat onto your head in one fluid motion.

Lyney chuckled, adjusting his hat to sit perfectly on your head while his other hand still laid comfortably on your waist. "well, if you want to learn more magic, you'll have to start adressing me as teacher," he teased, and you sputtered at his words.

with a smirk, his brows raised again, this time a mischivious glint in his eyes as he held his chin. "or maybe... master's more your thing?"

before he could marvel in your reaction, he found himself already outside your door, his body turning against the hand on his back that quickly guided him out.

"I t-think that's enough magic for today!" you hastily said, pushing his hat back into his arms before adruptly closing your door.

"h-hey wait! what about my cards?" he asked, despite having a plethora of them at his disposal. unfortunately, he was met with no response.

"oh well..." he sighed, shaking his head with a smile. with a snap of his wrist, he went to place his hat back on, only to be showered with cards atop his head. he couldn't help but chuckle as they tumbled down, realizing your little scheme. seems like you had a few tricks up your sleeve as well.

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f-t-e · 6 months

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I started watching SUPERNATURAL in November 2020. I know, I know. My partner and I had been isolating alone since March. The timing felt right. I went though a wild amount of upheaval and trauma over the next year and SPN was there for me through it all. It was THE show at THE time and it kept me afloat when I needed it the most. Since November 2021 I've written just about 110,000 words of SPN fanfic, a number that seems unbelievable to me, and that too has been a real blessing to my creative life, no matter what haters say. (why didn't I write my own novels in that time? Because I have a hobby, Karen, and I love it.) And I've read about 500000x that much fanfic, which has been the biggest blessing of all. (ETA: oh right, if you want to read my fic, you can find my stuff here, I wrote a fic where Dean reads books. Lots of books.)

I know I'm a nobody in this fandom but I thought on this, our #DestielDay, I would submit my own humble rec list. I've curated this very deliberately: every fic here has just about 4000 hits or less (most under 3000) and all were published in 2020 or after. So, sort of a rec list for some lesser known and newer fics, something you maybe haven't stumbled on yet. Especially thank you to @jewishcharliebradbury, her rec lists gave me a place to start back in the day and I have tried to model the depth and quality they brought to their lists. I tried to link to everyone's tumblr, but if I missed one, let me know.

Most of all, thank you to everyone who has EVER created something for this fandom, from 2005 to 2023. I am so thankful and, honestly, honored to be among your number. You're not supposed to be cringe and say a show saved your life...but SUPERNATURAL saved me, it really did. See y'all when the movie/reboot drops, to quote Ryan Gosling in The Notebook: IT WASN'T OVER, IT STILL ISN'T OVER. And I'm glad.

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Finale Fix-It & S15 and Beyond

What The Moon Was Saying by Amiril (@runawaymarbles)

This is hands-down one of the coolest “Dean Rescues Cas from the Empty” fics I have ever read and the concept is brilliantly structured to mirror the literal and metaphorical things Dean needs to give up and let go to get free. Every scenario is very satisfying and they make sense, is there any better feeling? Dean is very open in this, but in a believable way that still has edges. And, oh, the reunion is so good. Plus all the family stuff. Just excellent, exactly what you want in a fic like this: lovely, well-written, smart, fulfilling, all the pieces clicking, the show but better.

Awake and Annoying by skycruise

I love the use and passage of time in this one, it has some real impact, and I love the way Dean gets into the Empty (so smart, fits just right) and what I REALLY love in this one is the way it lets Dean be really clear-eyed and honest about his relationship with Sam, both the strengths and the weaknesses. And the last line, very clever and moving inverse of one of fandom’s favorite things.

Living the life you chose by allthismusic

THEEEEE post finale Sam Winchester-Outsider-POV this fandom needs. Sam is absolutely awesome in this, the most believable, loving, realistic mix of “I knew all along” and “I had no idea” versions of Sam, landing somewhere I think that’s really true and in character. It fills in and develops so many gaps and silences in what the show let Sam know in the absolute best way. Best Brother Sam is a weakness of mine and he really shines here, there for Dean in the best ways but also coming into his own, I love it so very much. (this author also has a very great 2022 Big Bang fic, hugely recommend that one too.)

your ear to the wound that whispers by EmandFandems (@lazarusemma)

Who doesn’t love a HANDPRINT FIC?!? And boy this is such a good one. It follows Dean and his thoughts on the handprint from the first touch all the way to fixing the finale and it simply buzzes with longing and desire, tenderness and rawness. It’s great insight in lot of ways into Dean’s journey. It’s short but fulfilling and oh that very perfect last line. (this author also has a lot of great Jupernatural content.)

Somewhere Off in the Dark by magickastiel

Another awesome fic that traces Dean’s shifting/growing feelings for Cas from when he shows up in his hotel rooms to a HEA fix it after canon. Dean, again, is handled so deftly in this one, his confusion and sorrow at all the times Cas is slipping away from him all the way through the things he won’t let himself know. He feels really true in this one, sharp and tender in the best Dean ways. Also it has an agonizingly romantic end, you love to end up there.

Pins and Feathers by theskywasblue (@buttherewasnogod)

This author has so many freaking good SPN fics, omg it was almost impossible to pick just one to include on this list. Go treat yourself with their entire list because there’s so much good stuff there! But this one, oh I am a sucker for a finale fix-it that lets Dean be this tender. While I LOVE fics where he just jumps right into Cas’s arms (and write them lol) I also feel like this is so true to Dean too: that “maybe I misunderstood, maybe I shouldn’t say anything, maybe he doesn’t still –” And on top of all that, it’s a “they go the beach” fic and it gets the details of it so right, sand in your toes and all. Tender, amazing slow-burn, real, hot, full of heart and longing and everything unspoken and just waiting. Very satisfying!

i loved you first by kalmialatifolia

A set of four short fics that create an entire world of feeling and emotion. These feel like little whispered stories told under the covers, very atmospheric. There’s one very sexy one, a haircutting one (so good) and they’re just intimate. All together a great set and did I mention they’re in the “Cas saves himself” genre which is mmmm an underrated treasure.

no other faith is light enough for this place by anonymous

A fix-it fic that has a particularly unique and beautiful visual of both how and why Cas comes back. The mechanics behind it are fairly standard but the way this author creates the visual of it, the sheer emotion and force behind it and how it happens, it really stood out to me and stuck with me. It’s Dean being brave enough to really feel and the way that just blossoms – lovely, aching, full-tilt wonderful.

no proof, one touch by TakeThisWaltz (@watchinghimrakeleaves)

One thing I absolutely cannot get enough of is fic where Cas is hiding out from Dean in heaven. It just hits. And the only thing better is Dean chasing him down and the WAY he does it in this fic, methodically and – well the method (sobs) it is so endearing and OBVIOUS and gives Dean a chance to shout in all the best ways. This one is just real sweet and kind of goofy and if they have to be in heaven, I want them to still be these same two dorks.

Stay by redbrickrose

This is a post S15x18 from Cas’s POV and I think it’s very true to where he would be in the moment of getting yanked out of the Empty: resigned, hesitant about what he has in front of him, still a little in shock. And then. And then. Sweet and simple and Dean gets a chance to say, say, say it. This author has a good post series AU and a lovely little spate of S15 codas, all good. And then wrote this in real-time in the week after 15x18 Despair and right before 15x19 Inherit the Earth aired (could you just sob over the possibilities?!) and then hasn’t wrote anything since and that’s a shame but, like, yeah I get it.

like a one-two punch by Muir_Wolf (@muirmarie)

Don’t you love a short fic that feels like it’s a whole novel? This goes AU after 14x20 Moriah but it is a truly delightful twist on how Chuck could’ve reacted there and it makes Dean sharp as a knife, which is one really resonant image woven through this fic. Great imagery here and so many clever solutions for the lazy plotting of S15, including simply one of my all-time favorites in any fic ever solutions to Cas’s deal (genius) and getting rid of Chuck. Brilliant like a puzzle box yet still full of so much fucking joy.

maybe i like pleasure pain by tothewillofthepeople (@kvothes)

The fact that this was written in October 2023 and is so agonizingly good fills my heart with joy and tells me Destiel will never die lol. Cas, in particular, is great in this – he’s having a hard time adjusting to being in a body and with all the fuzz of the world. I love fics where Cas struggles with coming back from the Empty and this uses a really unique approach to it: Cas facing sensory overload and not knowing how to feel but wanting it all. Lovely, hot, Dean is just right in this too.

Earlier Canon (pre S15)

Proverbs 13:12 by starlingcas (@angelcasendgame)

Many might say I am biased because Renu has beta’ed everything I have written in the SPN fandom and they can read my brain and make everything I write better. But it’s not just that. Renu has done something beautiful and delicate in this fic, which is about Dean and Cas getting trapped in a net together (forced proximity trope, yes please) and weaves a web of its own; pulling you in just as they are pulled together. This is set mostly in early S14 (before fixing the finale in the most heart-healing way) and captures that feeling so well. There’s so much that’s unsaid between them yet still conveyed and Renu absolutely nails that, along with the tender longing that was always there. This is a fic to relish.

you may tire of me (as our december sun is setting) by deludedfantasy

You know how the show just sometimes is like “uh so anyway uh then Cas…uh…left.” and it just doesn’t make one lick of sense? FINALLY FINALLY a fic where Dean says “I’ll go with you,” and then goes because he actually would do that. This is a post Tombstone fic so it is exactly where/when he WOULD go and it is tender and hesitant and aching in just all the ways it would be between the two of them at this time. It’s about needing to keep someone in sight, it’s about having another chance to say something so important, it’s slow and soft and just right for the characters in this place. I could read this one about 100 times.

the anatomy of flightless birds by cowlovely (@dollhousemary)

This fic is basically the way you feel when you get all cozy and snug underneath your favorite blanket. This is a domestic-life-in-the Bunker S9 fic where everyone behaves like they are in character and not just like they have to get Cas off screen because the writers panicked. You’ll just want to curl up in this fic and savor it the way you wrap your fingers around a hot beverage on a very cold day, there’s no better way to describe it.

virtue by JenTheSweetie

I think I’ve read this about 100 times and it still gets me everytime? It’s a five things fic about Dean and Cas hooking up and it’s all you’ve ever wished for. This is set in an amorphous S8 and it is not just agonizingly hot but also romantic and very funny. It feels really in character! Sam is hilarious, Dean is clueless but bowled over and letting himself be swept up, Cas is delighting in every second and smarter than he lets on and it ALL feels fated and lovely and sexy and just splendid. (this author only has 3 SPN fics but they are all so good and if you try sometimes, well you just might find is an absolutely brilliant deconstruction of Dean learning the differences between “needing” and “wanting.”)

Romance at the Motel 6 by shelia_amour

This fic makes me feel like Stefon from SNL. This fic has everything: Cas and Sam pretending to be married, just the right amount of jealous Dean, Dean randomly pretending to be married to Cas, Dean realizing maybe this isn’t so fake after all, motel vibes, Cas in Dean’s clothes, Cas getting bee slippers. If you are not sold on this already, we are very different people. So good, aches just right. (set in a kind of “whenever” of canon, but I like to put it somewhere in S8.)

que sera sera by Purple_Starflower (@hauntedpearl)

The epitome of how fanfic unfolds for us all the things that COULD happen. You can’t PROVE to me Dean and Cas never snuck off to snuggle and feed Dean’s touch-starvation early in S13. I had to check when I finished because I just couldn’t believe this fic was under 4000 words because it feels so full of touch, longing, the things unspoken, and all the ways Dean was reaching, reaching, reaching. The best kind of ache, and everything by this author is lovely.

the hard edge that you’re settling for by lesspopped (@trekkiedean)

This is some S10 Demon!Dean that made my stomach hurt and my heart ache and I absolutely loved it and I absolutely hated it and it all felt so REAL with who Demon!Dean was and could have been. There’s a TW for mildly dubious consent in this, but to me, Cas was so agonizingly true to who he was/where he was at this point in canon too. This fic is gloriously, claustrophobically intimate. I say unbearable because as a reader you know that this closeness, this intimacy, is what Dean wants/craves/deserves but can only give himself as a demon and the author does an exquisite job at getting all that across. Hurts so good!

four of swords by sundryvillians (eurythmix) (@perenial)

Can the world ever have enough post 12x12 fic? The answer is, of course, no. Dean and Cas bake bread and in the soft space of creating something with their own hands, get so close to the words Cas said. It’s about healing and anger and making something just because you are so tired of everything breaking. If that alone isn’t enough to convince you, let me also throw in this is another one of those “possible off-screen moments in canon” that gives them something honest and tender and raw and it feels so very possible.

Fifteen Prayers From the Faithless by koyas_cat

Short, achy, that sweet sting. A set of prayers for Cas from the beginning to the end, full of all the things Dean doesn’t let himself say outloud and just reflecting the changes in their connection over alllll the years. So good.

#spn #spn fanfic #destiel fic #fic recs #destiel day #deancas fic recs #supernatural #destiel #happy anniversary #don't forget you're here forever

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thefallennightmare · 5 months

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Just Pretend-nine

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: PLEASE, we are begging you guys. Take your time with this one, so many different emotions throughout. Its a big fucking deal and read it slow, immerse yourself in this world while listening to the playlist. Enjoy my lovelies. 😉

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond

NOAH

"I'm so fucking glad we're staying in a hotel the next few days," Folio groaned as we walked down the long hallway of the hotel.

I nodded in agreement. "I can't believe the tour is almost over; our last show is tomorrow night."

With our last show tomorrow night, we were spending the next few nights in a hotel and we all planned to take flights back home so we could get there faster. Hollow Souls were also staying in this hotel but they were a floor beneath us but it seemed the farther I went from Y/N, those imaginary pull strings inside of my heart tightened. If it hurt this bad when she was a floor underneath, how bad would it hurt when she was a state away?

As far as I knew, she still had plans to go back to Vegas because that's where her home was, granted it was with Trey. There wasn't a part of me that was worried she would go back to him; I knew she wouldn't. Ever since they fired him, Hollow Souls has been thriving. They posted on their social media pages that Trey was kicked out of the band due to personal reasons and while most of their fans complained about them kicking out their main vocalist, there was a select few that were excited to see what the future of Hollow Souls looked like.

Y/N was upset at first that so many of their fans were boycotting them now because they decided to kick Trey out.

"Seems like they only care about Trey's vocals when I'm the one that actually wrote our songs."

It took a while of Malcolm and Chase talking to her to realize that their future together as a band was looking bright. They could reinvent themselves.

I filled in for the last two shows but after playing my set for thirty minutes before their hour-and-a-half set, my voice was getting raw and sore so Matt thought it be best if I didn't fill in for the last show. I was going to argue, not wanting to let them down, but Chase reassured me they'd figure out what to do for the last show.

Y/N has been glowing since Trey left, slowly becoming a better woman in front of all of us; to me, she'd always been perfect. But we could all see her confidence growing. With her face in the dirt far too many times with Trey, she finally said enough; it doesn't hurt anymore. As all of his lies crumbled down, Y/N found a new life.

To say all of us were proud of her was a fucking understatement.

"Hey," Jolly bumped shoulders with mine, pulling me from my thoughts as we stopped in front of the door to his room. "Bryan wants us ready to go in twenty minutes."

Oh, right.

We were currently in Oregon and Bryan planned some time today on our off day to visit one of the national parks here to take some promo photos of us.

"Yeah, I'll be ready to go. I need to change quickly and I'll meet you guys down in the lobby," I said as I walked down a few more doors until I stopped in front of my room; the one I was sharing with Nick.

He patted my shoulder as he walked past me into the room. "You should ask if Y/N wants to come with."

I shrugged off his words, trying not to make it seem that I'd been tossing around the idea for the last hour when Bryan first told us about his plan.

"She might have plans with Chase and Malcolm," I said while tossing my suitcase onto the bed, quickly rifling through the clothes to find something to change into.

"She doesn't. Last I heard, Chase and Malcolm are going out tonight so Y/N will be alone," Nick raised a suggestive brow.

With a long sigh, I turned to face him. "You already planned this, didn't you?"

"It was Chase's idea," he answered.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled out my phone to send a text to Y/N.

Get dressed, I'll be by your room in fifteen minutes.

She responded quickly before I had the chance to set my phone down.

Care to tell me where we're going?

All you need to know is to dress warm, angel.

You're full of surprises. See you soon, mochi. Room 245.

"Mochi?" I chuckled to myself while pocking my phone.

With a smile playing at my lips and my heart pounding loudly in my heart at the nickname, I tossed on a fresh hoodie and my tan jacket, opting to leave my hair down. Nick finished getting dressed when I did and once we stepped out in the hallway, Jolly and Folio were already waiting for us right outside our door.

"Fuck," I cursed while clutching my chest. "You scared the shit out of me, Folio."

"Too busy thinking about Y/N, huh?" He gave a playful smile.

Shoving him on the shoulder, I mentioned we needed to stop by her room before heading down to the lobby.

Jolly adjusted the guitar bag on his back. "She's coming with?"

I hesitantly nodded. "Is that alright? Nick said she was alone, and I felt bad if we left her while we did something."

They all smirked at my rambling as we took the stairs down one floor, our footsteps echoing in the small confined space.

"Of course it is, we don't mind when she tags along," Jolly said.

Coming to a stop in front of door 245, I gently rapped my knuckles against it and waited for her petite voice to carry through the wood. It was silent for a few moments, nerves ate away at my stomach as I wondered why she wasn't answering yet.

I knocked once again, this time with a bit more force, and breathed a little when a loud curse sounded from the other side.

"Hang on, someone's at the door."

I looked over to Nick with a raised brow, and he merely shrugged. "Chase and Malcolm are gone so I don't know who she's talking to."

The door opened with a quick brush of air, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight in front of me. Y/N was dressed in a pair of black tights, and a deep orange sweater that rested to the middle of her thighs, and her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail. I had to resist the urge to wrap my fingers through it to pull her back to me as she turned back into the room.

"Give me two minutes, I have to get my shoes," She said while clutching her phone to her ear. "No, Dad. Not you. I've got plenty of time to talk."

While the rest of the guys hung out in the hallway, I leaned against the wall right next to her bed and watched her as she slipped on her typical Doc Martin, nodding every so often to something her dad was saying on the other end of the phone.

"Dad, you seem to forget that you're seventeen hours ahead of me right now," she laughed causing my heart to flutter. "It's only noon here. Wait, why are you calling me so early? Isn't it your day off?"

She paced around the room looking for something and realizing what it was; I grabbed her bag and slung it over my shoulder. "I got it."

Y/N smiled her thanks before the conversation with her dad took her attention again. "No, I haven't talked to Mom in a while…. well, the last time she tried to guilt trip me into staying with her when the tour was over…I'm not staying at Trey's place anymore. We broke up.…..yea, long time coming, tell me about it….I'm sure I'll figure it out but I'm not staying in Vegas anymore…..hell yes I'm keeping Salem; asshole doesn't do shit for my cat."

I couldn't ignore the way my stomach flipped hearing that she didn't plan on staying in the same state as Trey.

"I can't move in with Malcolm or Chase because they're actually finding their own place together…Dad, they're dating; have been for the last six months…Yeah, that will explain exactly why Chase and I never got together."

I chuckled as I thought of her dad trying to set up her and Chase.

"You saw videos from the show last night?" There was a clear shock in her voice as she continued to talk with her dad as she rushed around the room getting ready.

"I'm surprised because you don't even know how to work face time," she giggled. "Oh, he's a friend of ours. We've been touring with his band for the last few weeks. Yeah, he filled in the last couple of shows….you think so? That's what everyone is saying online."

Her gaze flicked up to mine as her lips parted slightly, whatever her dad said made her give a long pause.

"Just a friend, dad." Then she turned swiftly on her heels away from me to whisper something low into the phone.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed to me with a pulled expression as she looked over her shoulder..

I waved her off. "Take your time."

"Dad, you know I miss you but I can't move to Japan; not now. But yes, I promise to visit you as soon as I can."

Eventually, after another minute, she said goodbye before hanging up with an audible groan. "Don't get me wrong, I love my dad but sometimes he forgets we talk almost every other day. He wants a play-by-play of my life every time."

"He wants you to visit?" I questioned.

She nodded while slipping into a jacket. "Yeah but its hard to find time. You need more than a weekend to visit Japan; there's so much to do."

"Yeah," I pushed her hand away when she went to reach for her bag. "I've got it."

"Noah, you don't have to carry my bag," she chuckled.

I shrugged. "I don't mind. Ready?"

"Yep," she smiled that heart-stopping smile.

When she walked past me towards the open door, my fingers grazed the inside of her wrist to stop her.

"Mochi?" I asked.

"Yes," she responded immediately. "Because you're the sweetest and your tummy is soft."

She poked her finger into my stomach before letting out a loud shriek of laughter as I wrapped an arm around her shoulders to bring her into my embrace, the both of us walking to the doorway where the guys were waiting.

"Malcolm and Chase are going to meet us once they're finished with their date," Y/N said.

"I'll text them the address," Nick said while pulling out his phone.

"Where are we headed?"

"The mountains," Folio answered with a smile.

"Ooh," she slipped out of my embrace, much to my dismay, to rummage around her suitcase for a book before she came back to me, lifting my arm and throwing it over her shoulder once again. "Now I'm ready."

Resisting the urge to press a kiss to her forehead, I set my sunglasses over my eyes and pulled her along with me as she let the door close behind us and ignored the smug look Nick threw my way as we walked past him; Y/N wrapping an arm around my back.

NOAH

"Can you believe how many people are calling for us to collaborate? It's all over Twitter," Nick said while browsing on his phone.

"Shit, really?" Y/N peered over from the back seat so she could gaze down at Nick's phone, who sat in front of her.

I was driving the van to the location that Bryan chose for our photo shoot but Folio called shotgun before she could which earned a cute little pout on her lips; lips that I wanted so bad to taste once again. So she sat in the far back with Jolly while Nick and Bryan sat in the middle. It was weird not having Chase or Malcolm with us since we did everything together on our off days.

"What are they saying?" I wondered while keeping my eyes on the road.

"Fans want you to feature on Hollow Souls next album," Y/N grinned as our eyes locked in the rearview mirror for a few seconds.

I hummed while pulling the van to a stop at the park's entrance. "I'm around whenever you need me, angel."

Once we all piled out, I met Jolly and Bryan at the back of the van to help them unload the equipment while Y/N chatted quietly with both of the Nicks, and out of the corner of my eye; I marveled at how goddess-like she looked with the afternoon sun casting her with her own aura glow. Jolly caught me staring because he smacked my chest before handing me the guitar he brought.

"You could ask her out, ya know," Bryan smirked.

I snapped my gaze over to him. "I can't."

"Why not? It's clear she feels the same since she's here right now," he said.

A long sigh fell from my lips as I ran a hand over my face. "It's not that easy, guys."

Bryan rolled his eyes and then hung his camera from his neck. "I mean you've already kissed, how much easier could things be between you two?"

"You told him?" I seethed at Jolly, who held up his hands.

"I didn't say anything. You two give it away with all the romantic googly-eye shit," he chuckled while he and Bryan began walking up the long trail toward the top of the mountain where we planned on taking the pictures.

"Hey," Y/N smiled as she bounded up next to me. "Little photo shoot?"

Immediately the scowl that followed Byran and Jolly turned into a warm smile, matching Y/N's, and I nodded. We began walking step in step, hands brushing against each other every so often, and I nearly linked fingers with her more than once. However, when we reached some rocky terrain while walking up a hill, Y/N cursed herself for not wearing smarter shoes.

"Here," I bent low in front of her and patted to my back.

"No, you're not carrying me," she tried to laugh it off, but I knew she was nervous about me carrying her weight on my back.

"Angel."

I peered over my shoulder in time to see her place her hands low on her hips.

"Mochi," she teased back with a small smirk.

My heart skipped a long beat at hearing the nickname again. It sounded so fucking sweet falling from her lips; almost as much as my actual name sounded.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," I said, still bent low at my knees.

Y/N pulled at the bottom of her sweater dress. "I don't want to give these bozos a show."

She threw a thumb over her shoulder towards both Nick's who walked a few paces behind her. I rose to my knees and gave her a suggestive smirk while closing the distance between us.

"What color are they?"

"Uh," Y/N stammered but quickly recovered. "A cute olive green. Looks great against my skin tone."

A low noise vibrated in the back of my throat and I stood straighter as Folio walked passed just in time to feel the growing sexual tension.

"Either you hop on his back or I will," he joked as he and Nick walked passed us.

She stared up at me and slowly licked her lips, an action I watched carefully through my sunglasses. "Noah?"

"Yes, angel?"

"You have a cute nose," her voice was quiet, and I thought I misheard her.

I titled my head to the side. "My nose?"

"Yeah. It's just the perfect size for your facial structure," she finished with a boop to my nose.

I scrunched up my face. "Did-did you just boop my nose?"

"See!" She pointed to my face. "You look so fucking cute; it's insane."

"Angel, literally," I breathed a low chuckle.

"Mochi, literally," she mocked while sticking her tongue out.

My fingers itched to grab it but Bryan's loud voice echoed through the trees from far ahead. "Let's go you losers! You're holding us up."

I swear to-.

"What will it be, angel?" I asked.

Y/N dramatically sighed before motioning for me to spin around, which I did with a quick wink.

"If you drop me, I swear to Hades," She grumbled while adjusting her dress.

The warmth radiated from her in giant waves as her legs wrapped around my sides and I hooked my arms underneath her thighs to hoist her up.

"I swear to Hades that I will not drop you," I promised while walking up the steep hill towards the rest of the guys. "Do you actually pray to the Greek Gods?"

She flicked my ear. "No, silly. I just like to joke around with them. They're my favorite mythology."

"Will you teach me about them?

"I'm honored you asked; I'd love to," she ran her fingers through my long hair and I briefly let my eyes flutter shut at the calming feeling.

"Only if you let me braid your hair."

My eyes snapped open. "Uh, we'll see about that."

She flicked my ear again. "You're no fun."

Hooking her tighter against me, I closed the distance between us and the guys in a few long strides. Nick gave the two of us a look as I set Y/N down gently on her feet, she quickly pulling down her dress.

"You didn't see shit," she pointed a firm finger to all of us.

"Nope."

"Nothing."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bryan held up his camera and snapped a few pictures of Y/N; who in return, flipped him the finger.

I watched with a racing heart as she messed around with the guys, almost as if she'd been part of our little group for years.

"Alright," Y/N pulled the book out of her bag. "I'll let you guys do your thing. If you need me, I'll be reading over there."

She pointed to the edge of the mountain that looked over the small lake we drove past to get here.

"Be careful, angel," I warned.

"I'll be fine," Y/N rolled her eyes but as she turned, she tripped over a rock and stumbled a bit before standing straight.

I raised a teasing brow at her while crossing my arms over my chest. "What was that?"

"Fuck you," she taunted with her middle finger.

Don't tempt me, angel.

The next hour passed in a blur as we took countless pictures, just having a fun, relaxing time. Every so often, my gaze would fall onto Y/N as she leaned up against a large willow tree, book perched in her lap. The wind blew through her ponytail every so often and I marveled at how fucking breathtaking she looked when her face would scrunch in surprise with whatever she was reading.

I knew from the moment I stepped off our bus the first day of the tour when I saw her standing amongst the group; when we first met. It wasn't the typical love at first sight bullshit Folio talks about that happens in the movies. It was more like a familiarity, almost like 'oh, hello. It's you. It's always going to be you.'

"Noah, could you take a little step forward," Bryan directed.

Snapping my gaze away from Y/N reluctantly, I followed Bryan's orders for another long few minutes until he decided we got enough pictures. I motioned towards Y/N, who still had her nose perched in her book, and Bryan knew what I silently was saying because he snapped a few pictures of her.

Malcolm and Chase walked up just as we finished our photoshoot so a quick idea came to my mind.

"Angel," I called.

She looked up. "Hm?"

Not saying anything, I waved her, Malcolm, and Chase over to our position which they did hesitantly.

"If Bryan is cool with it," I pointed to him. "What do you guys say for a Hollow Souls photoshoot? New and reimagined?"

Bryan immediately agreed. "Let me change out some things and we can get started.

Chase and Malcolm also agreed with a nod. "I think it'll be good for us."

"You guys don't have to do this for us," Y/N stated. "You've already done so much for us, Noah by filling in."

I shrugged while stuffing my hands deep into the pockets of my jeans. "I take care of the people I care about."

She pondered my words for a long moment and eventually let out a long breath. "Alright fine."

Once Bryan returned, the rest of stepped back to give them space to work. Nick was the only one who watched me as Jolly, Folio, and I kept our eyes on Hollow Souls. We grabbed a few beers from the cooler Jolly packed and was nursing them slowly.

"You know, this would be a perfect opportunity to maybe slip away just the two of you," Nick whispered.

I peered over to him and rolled my eyes, shoving him in the shoulder. "Whatever."

"I'm just saying," he held up his hands in defense. "A night under the stars in the mountains. Anybody would kill for a date like that."

Nick's words weighed heavily on my brain and when she began walking towards me, I made the haste decision by grabbing the guitar that was leaning against the tree.

"Hi," Y/N smiled as I met her halfway.

My heart warmed at the sight.

"Do you want to go somewhere more secluded, just the two of us?" I suggested with a hopeful smile.

I didn't want to think how I would feel if she rejected me and walked away from me.

"Sure," she answered quickly with a glimmer shining in her eyes.

Ultimately, after walking for a few minutes, we decided on an area far from the rest of the group down the water's edge. We sat down in the sand, our knees brushing against each other, and held the guitar in my lap as I watched her stare out into the vast distance of the water. There was a faraway look in the depths of her eyes as she messed with something on her wrist, fiddling it between her fingers.

A hair tie; the one I gave her the last time we were on the beach together. I wondered where it went but decided that I never wanted it back. It's hers to keep; along with everything else I gave her.

"How are you doing, angel?" I asked, breaking the growing silence.

She didn't look at me, kept her eyes straight ahead.

"I'm-." A hesitant breath. "I'm not sure. I want to believe I'm doing okay with the breakup of not only my relationship but also the band. For the longest time, Hollow Souls was the four of us and we released three records together. The future scares the shit out of me. Can the three of us reinvent a new Hollow Souls or do we need to find someone to replace Trey completely?"

I strummed a few random notes on the guitar; the melody echoing into the sounds of the waves.

"I think a fresh start in all aspects is good for you," I answered slowly, trying to get my thoughts and words right. "I've said it from the start, you're the heart and soul of this band, Y/N. The screams were a bonus. It didn't make or break you guys."

She finally looked towards me and her eyes darted over every inch of my face, wondering if my words were the truth. With her, they always were.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, mochi. Truly."

I scrunched up my face to show that the nickname wasn't my favorite but deep down, my insides were floating in pure bliss having her call me something so disgustingly cute. If any of the guys heard it, though, they would give me shit until the end of my days.

"Ditto, angel, ditto."

I tried to play it cool, sauvé, and chill. My typical demeanor was chipping like ice though, the fear of what would happen if it broke completely had its vise grip on me. No one has ever considered a fuckin a nickname for me, not one without a punchline. Not one without a groan or a cursed tantrum that followed. I wasn’t sure if the pure bliss I was feeling was normal, but who the hell wants normal? Hearing it come from her lips meant everything to me.

"Let's play something," I motioned to the guitar.

"Ooh, what do you have in mind?" She asked while turning her body to face me completely head-on and letting her hair flow as she took it out of the ponytail.

The view of her sitting in front of me with the waves crashing behind her, the setting sun's rays breaking over the horizon stole the breath from my chest.

"Only Love," I answered without an ounce of hesitation.

Y/N's nose scrunched up with confusion and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't the cutest fucking thing ever.

"Noah, that was a demo song from three years ago."

I shrugged and played the first few notes of the song. "Might be silly to some but to me, it means a lot."

It was true. I listened to that song on repeat when it first came out. It was the first song I heard by Hollow Souls and Y/N's voice captivated my heart with its claws. I remember laying on the pullout couch next to Nick in his bedroom as I stayed there yet again. My mind was racing with only one thought.

I have to fucking make it. I needed to buy my own couch that brought a sense of comfort and security I yearned for.

That's when her soft voice came through my headphones and it shocked me to hear a feminine voice after Of Mice and Men. I brushed the hair away from my eyes as I settled deeper into the couch and let Y/N's angelic voice lull me to sleep that night and far too long after.

Cut to three years later and the girl who wrote that song is here in front of me. Some may call it a ‘rockstar crush. Would she be considered that? Who the hell knows? All I know is that I had pent-up memories, and needed to hear that sweet voice sing it, just for me all these years later.

Y/N's real, right there in front of me.

"I'm shocked you remember that song."

"Why wouldn't I? You talked about it being on the cloud during that one livestream," I answered.

Her eyes doubled. "You watched the livestream?"

"Twice."

A red hue brushed across the soft skin of her face as she tilted her head down towards the sand, long hair covering her face.

"No," I brushed away the hair behind her ear. "Don't hide your beautiful face, angel. I want to see all of you if you'd let me."

"Sorry," she muttered under her breath. "I don't even realize I do it."

"Don't apologize. Never apologize to me. Just understand that this is how I see you. Now, enough sadness. Sing for me, angel."

She looked up at me through lashes with a small smile. "Do you know how to play it?"

I snorted, a little hurt that she would doubt me, but proved her wrong as I played the opening part of the song.

"I told you I watched the stream twice."

"Okay," she nodded. "Where did you want me to start?"

"Sing the whole song for me. Please?" I begged.

"You want me to sing the whole song?"

"I do," I rushed out.

Y/N gave a curt nod. “Okay, I’ll play the whole thing- but only because you asked me too, no one else gets the privilege.”

I playfully narrowed my eyes at her. “They better not.”

She took a deep breath while shutting her eyes as I played the tune on the guitar.

"I’m hoping you weren’t heaven sent cause only hell knows where you’ve been. Your built composure’s wearing thin and all your walls are caving in. Before you shut this down, I just wanna lift you up. I’ll take all this love I found and I hope that it’s enough."

We both could hear the ache in our hearts as it bled out, the lyrics mean so fucking much right now.

"Now don’t you shut this down. Ooh no don’t you give this up. I took all this love I found and I hope that it’s enough. Is it enough? If we don’t bend, then this might break. Please don’t give into this pain. Just keep on counting down the days and dream of me to keep you safe."

Y/n opened her eyes to meet mine, a blaze of passion that cut deep into my bones.

"Before you came around I was lost and out of place. You’re the only love I found and I’m hoping that you’ll stay. Please stay."

As we played on together in perfect harmony, there was one thing bright in clear in my mind: I'd stay for as long as she let me.

"Fuck," she breathed. "I forgot how much I loved singing this song."

I nodded in agreement while setting the guitar down next to me. "It's one of my favorites. It's actually what got me into Hollow Souls. I'd been hooked on your voice since that first night on Nick's couch all those years ago when I first heard it."

Y/N beamed when an idea struck her with such force, she stumbled to her feet. "I have to talk with Chase and Malcolm about something."

She took off a few steps in front of me, clearly excited about this idea she had. As we reached the rest of the guys, Y/N made a beeline toward Chase to tell him about her idea while I walked up to Nick and Folio, the former giving me a look.

"So my date idea was good, huh?" He playfully jabbed my side.

I pushed him away with a groan of embarrassment. "Fuck off, Nicholas."

"Oh, he pulled out the full name," Folio teased.

Jolly and Bryan joined us as we finished packing up the van and when I glanced over to Y/N, I noticed Malcolm pinching her cheeks playfully and she smacked his hands away, her cheeks flushed with her own embarrassment and large smile.

NOAH

"Oh wow, look at all of these beautiful people tonight!" Y/N's voice carried through the sold-out arena.

It was the last show of tour and Hollow Souls just took the stage for their set. We could feel the nerves radiate off of all three of them all the way where we stood on the stage to watch them. This was new what they planned on doing tonight but the three of them spent the rest of last night after we parted ways at the hotel and all morning and afternoon today practicing nonstop a new setlist. They wanted to show everyone tonight the first step towards the new Hollow Souls.

"Where's Noah?!" a voice yelled from the crowd.

Jolly chuckled from beside me. "Think they'll be upset you don't show up tonight?"

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "I hope not. This is something that they need to prove they can do. The fans need to have faith in Hollow Souls."

"Well, about that," Malcolm spoke into his microphone while adjusting his bass strap.

"Now before you all start booing us off the stage," Chase spoke next from his spot above on his makeshift drum stage. "Noah has been fucking killing it not only with Bad Omens this tour but also helping us out a lot. But tonight, we wanted to do something a little different. We still have our guitar tech filling in for us!"

The crowd cheered for their guitar tech, which made him give an awkward wave.

"I know this may take getting used to, but we appreciate your support in doing what’s right for us and our band," Y/N said. "It means so fucking much to all of us you still showed up tonight even knowing Trey is no longer with us. For that, we're going to give you a kick ass show you deserved. Don't give up on Hollow Souls. We cut out the disease and are ready to fucking blossom."

Y/N peered over to me and with a small wave and wink, she sang the first few lyrics of Only Love.

NOAH

Darkness cascaded over my sleeping form, a brush of moonlight breaking through the curtains pulled tight in our hotel room, and I buried myself deeper into the cocoon of blankets. Sleep was within my grasp and after the last few weeks, the thought of finally being able to sleep in my own bed back at home made it that much easier to grasp it.

Until my phone buzzed from its place on the nightstand and my hand smacked around until it grabbed it. Through hazy vision, I blinked a few times for the words to clear.

Hey, are you awake?-Angel.

I sat up in bed and rubbed away the rest of the sleep from my eyes. It only meant one thing when someone texted you the typical you up text.

Yeah, couldn't sleep.

Bullshit, you were seconds away from waking up Nick with your snoring.

I stared at the bubbles that appeared on my screen and then disappeared, only to reappear right before her next text came through.

Would it be alright if I came by to hang out? Or is it too late?

The clock at the top of my screen showed it was just before midnight.

Not at all. I've got snacks, and we can finally finish watching Spirited Away. Room 392

Be there in five minutes. I'll bring some goodies too! :)

I chucked a pillow at Nick, who was fast asleep in his bed, but when he remained sleeping, I threw another. Eventually, he groaned, slowly waking up.

"You need to leave." I scrambled out of bed and pulled away the blankets from Nick. "Y/N's coming by to hang out."

Nick smoothed down his bedhead, a sly smirk on his lips. "You're kicking me out right now?"

"Fuck yes I am. Go bunk with Bryan or Matt," I said while changing out of my old gray sweats for a pair of black joggers, opting to put on a shirt.

He yawned before grabbing the things he would need and dragged his feet to the door, sending a text to whoever he bunked with.

"Be safe!" Nick called out before the door shut behind him.

With seconds to spare, I quickly tidied up the room then set up a variety of snacks and pulled up the movie on my laptop, setting it on the bed just in time for a soft knock to sound on the door. I let out a few deep calming breaths and did a quick once over of myself in the mirror.

"Hi," I smiled once I opened the door.

Y/N's eyes grazed over every inch of me as she shifted on her feet in the doorway, clutching a bag close to her chest. She was dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized shirt.

"Do you always sleep shirtless?" she asked with a raised brow.

I stepped to the side, allowing her to step inside the room. "Every hotel room I sleep in can't get any colder than seventy degrees. I need it to be at least sixty-eight. I run hot when I sleep and the guys know not to mess with the thermostat back home."

"Wow, good to know. I'll keep my hands to myself when I come over," she wiggled her fingers after setting her bag down on the couch.

Please don't.

I peeked a brow. "When you come over?"

"Oh, if you thought you saw the last of me because the tour is over, you're wrong," she fell onto the couch with a huff of breath. "I'm moving to Los Angeles."

My heart thumped loudly in my chest but I did my best to hide my excitement when I sat next to her.

"You are?" I questioned.

She nodded with that room-brightening smile. "I had a long talk with Chase and Malcolm tonight and we thought it is best. With us trying to reinvent Hollow Souls it'd be good if we were together for the writing process. Malcolm already found a place big enough for us and while he's going there to get things ready, Chase is flying back with me to Vegas to help me pack my things."

I shifted in my seat, resting my arm against the back of the couch, behind Y/N. "Do you think Trey will be there?"

"Probably but that's why Chase is coming with me; in case things go south."

"I could come too if you'd like," I stumbled over my words only slightly.

Y/N rested a hand on my knee and squeezed it. "You need to stop worrying so much about me, Noah. I can't ask you to change your plans for something I should do on my own."

"You're worth it, angel," I vowed while running a finger through the soft waves of her hair.

We stayed in that position for a minute longer, simply staring into each other's eyes, and when I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, Y/N let out a soft whine. The thick tension that always seemed to be around us intensified now, and it was almost hard to breathe, let alone keep my thoughts off the way her hand grazed a few inches higher on my thigh.

I cleared my throat while nodding to the bag next to her. "What did you bring?"

"Oh," she snapped out of her trance and set it on her lap. "Last tour, I started this tradition on the final night I celebrate by doing self-care."

She pulled out an array of masks and different colors of nail polish and then set them on the small coffee table in front of us.

"Sweet, hand me one," I nodded towards the masks.

"You do masks?" Y/N giggled.

"What, you think I get this perfect skin with just water?" I jeered with a smile.

For the next while, we sat with our face masks on and watched the movie on the small screen of my laptop. It took almost no convincing from her to paint my nails black; her choosing a burgundy color for her nails. But now, what she was trying to convince of me gave me a slight pause.

"I don't know, angel. I don't let just anyone touch my hair," I said while putting away my laptop, us finishing the movie.

Y/N moved to the chair that sat in the room's corner and had her legs spread wide. "It's a good thing I'm not anyone. Now, get your ass over here and let me braid your hair."

For added effect, she pouted her bottom lip out and gave me those big doe eyes.

"Fine," I sighed before sitting on the floor between her legs, my back to her.

I shivered under her touch as she raked her fingers through my hair to break apart the small knots that gathered while I slept earlier.

"So, which Greek God is your favorite?" I asked.

She hummed. "Without a doubt, Medusa. Her story is tragic and sometimes often told wrong but that's the thing with mythology; there are so many different versions, you just have to choose which one you believe more."

"Medusa is the one with the snake hair, right?"

"Yeah," she turned my head to the left as she began braiding that side. "Some stories said she was an original gorgon sister but recent tellings from Ovid say she was a beautiful maiden who worked in Athena's temple. Poseidon saw her from afar and just like Zeus always did, Poseidon decided he wanted Medusa. He had sex with her on the temple steps and Athena punished her by turning her into the gorgon with snake hair and cursed any man to turn to stone when they looked at her."

I whistled low. "Shit, Greek gods were assholes."

Y/N snorted. "You don't even know the half of it."

Once she finished the left side, she turned my head to the right so she could start on that side.

"How'd her story end?"

"In tragedy, like every other myth. Perseus was sent to behead her by King Polydectes of Seriphus because Polydectes wanted to marry Perseus's mother. The gods were well aware of this, and Perseus got help. He received a mirrored shield from Athena, sandals with gold wings from Hermes, a sword from Hephaestus, and Hades's helm of invisibility."

"Wait," I turned to look up at her, which made her chastise me because I messed up the braid. "Athena, who turned her into this monster, helped the guy who was sent to kill her?"

"Fucked up, I know."

With stern hands, she turned my head to the right again. "Since Medusa was the only one of the three Gorgons who was mortal, Perseus could slay her; he did so while looking at the reflection from the mirrored shield he received from Athena. During that time, Medusa was pregnant by Poseidon so when Perseus beheaded her, Pegasus, the winged horse, and Chrysaor, a giant wielding a golden sword, sprang from her body."

"Oh Pegasus, from the Disney Hercules," I noted.

"That movie is so wrong but what do you expect for a kids' movie," Y/N chuckled then slapped her thighs. "All finished."

She showed me my reflection through her camera on her phone and I couldn't stop the smirk that pulled at my lips.

"I'll have to admit, angel. I look good with braids," I admitted while snatching her phone from her.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" She asked while reaching for it.

I leaned far back from her and posed for a few selfies. "I thought you'd like an updated selfie of me. I know you have the other two I sent you a few weeks ago."

With a red face, she snatched her phone back and held it close to her chest. "I do not."

Bullshit.

"Right, then let me see your pictures," I teased while kneeling in front of her, hands resting on her thighs, her skin ablaze with heat.

She swallowed thickly. "Fuck you, Sebastian."

READER

I swallowed thickly while clutching my phone to my chest, knowing that he was correct about saving those two selfies he sent me before.

"Are you going to look at the selfie I took?" Noah taunted.

With a breath, I peered down at the phone only to suck in a large breath, body shivering underneath his warm touch on my thighs.

"That's your new contact picture, mochi," I smirked while setting it and leaned deeper in the couch, not realizing that I pressed my core closer to Noah's face.

His eyes burned as his gaze darted from between my legs up to my face and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost imagining the taste.

"Angel," his voice was deep, it rumbling in his chest.

All the heat shot straight to my pussy as it clenched with desire, something that always happened when around Noah. Before, I took care of myself with this exact image in my mind but now that it was about to happen made me buzz with excitement.

"Can I?" He asked while breathing over my lap.

I raised my hips towards his face, all morals or thoughts if this was the best idea flew out of the window. We waited long enough for this moment ever since we shared that kiss so long ago. I wasn't a religious person at all but fuck, did I pray to Aphrodite about this moment countless times.

"Please," the word choked out on my lips.

With a low growl, Noah pulled me off of the chair and tossed me onto the bed before he crawled between my spread legs. His long fingers hooked the waistband of shorts and panties pulling them off in almost a quick snap and when blazed eyes stared down at my bare pussy, I tried to close my legs.

"Don't," Noah demanded while gripping my thighs tight to spread my legs again. "Don't hide a fucking thing from me, angel."

Shit.

"I've never actually-," The words died on my lips when I felt embarrassed about what I was about to say.

Noah leaned over me. "Wait, are you going to say what I think you're going to say?"

I turned my head away from him. "He never wanted to go down on me."

Noah cursed while cupping my chin so I could meet his gaze. "Don't think about him, angel. Just lay back and enjoy this."

I did my best to nod in his grasp. "Okay."

He suddenly crashed his lips to mine in a fiery, passionate kiss, as he forced his tongue past my lips to taste every inch of my mouth and I moaned into it, nails scratching against the bare skin of his chest. Noah's teeth dragged over my bottom lip as his hand dragged down my side to slide up underneath my shirt, fingers pinching at my nipples.

"Noah," I breathed while breaking apart from the kiss.

He buried his face into the crook of my neck to breathe me in. "Say it again."

I did, over and over like a mantra, as he left a mark on the skin of my neck while his hand switched to the other breast, mimicking his actions from before. The wetness that pooled between my legs was almost a new feeling, never being this turned one, and for a moment I wondered if it would be alright; no pain.

Noah helped me sit up so he could pull my shirt over my head and soon was laying bare in front of him, hair sprawled around my head.

"Fuck, angel. You're fucking beautiful."

For the longest time, I was told something different from how I looked. So hearing the truth and sincerity from Noah made me almost close my legs in front of him. But with his tight grip on my hips to keep me locked against the bed, I knew he could read my thoughts.

"Don't go there. Stay here with me," he said before his lips pressed over every inch of skin from my lips to my chest, down my stomach, and stopped right about my pussy.

I whined the smallest of sobs when Noah took his time, lips ghosting over me. By now I was almost begging and when I finally felt the wet flick of his tongue against my clit, I breathed out a shaky curse. Noah pressed the fullness of his tongue against my lips, licking me up from the bottom to the top, spreading my legs wider apart. I bit my hand to keep the noises at bay.

"I want to hear you," he left a gentle bit on the inside of my thigh.

"Fuck," I moaned when his tongue speared inside of me for a few strokes.

My hands now grasped at the blanket beneath me as I raised my hips farther into his mouth, his lips wrapping around my clit to bite and suck at the bundle of nerves. I always thought my Gspot was in my clit because it was hard to have an orgasm any other way than rubbing myself. Without even telling Noah this, it was as if he knew exactly what my body needed.

It happened so fast, before I knew it he was devouring me like a dying man. I’ve never felt euphoria until now; this must be how it feels to see the moon, the moon that changes its orbit. He had me spinning.

"I love the way you taste, angel." Noah broke away from my clit for a second before diving back it.

The familiar feeling of an orgasm built in my stomach, the tension pulling so fucking tight it was seconds away from snapping. My spine tingled with anticipation as my body tensed, knees shaking underneath Noah as he rubbed his tongue in faster but shorter circles, moaning with the taste that lingered on his lips.

"N-noah. 'M so close," I let my head fall back deeper into the mattress.

"Let go, I've got you."

With a strangled breath, I let the orgasm crash through me like a tsunami, a bright white light edging at the corners of my eyes while Noah licked me through the last few aftershocks. As my breathing calmed, I lifted my head in time to see him stand to his feet, stepping out of his joggers only to stand in front of me in his black briefs.

I licked my lips when I saw his cock straining against the confines of the material until he palmed himself in a few strokes.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked.

I shook my head with desperation clear in my voice. "No, please. I need this-I need you, Noah."

He cursed before sliding off his briefs with desperation and urgency, his hard cock springing against his thigh, and I nearly died at that sight alone. All of my imagination did nothing compared to the real thing, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared for a few different reasons. Sex with Trey was uncomfortable but with Noah's size, I feared it would only hurt. The only saving grace was that he worked me open and the added wetness would make up for the slight pain.

"Are you on anything?" Noah asked while kneeling between my legs.

A lot of different shit.

"No," I said.

He leaned over to a bag that lay at the foot of the bed and rummaged around for a few seconds before retrieving a condom. I watched with anticipation as pre-cum seeped out of the slit when he ripped it open and slid it over his length then perched himself between my legs again, the head of his cock pressing gently against me. He wrapped one of my legs around his hip then slowly, sunk deep inside of me, and I bit my tongue hard to keep my strangled cry quiet. I knew there was going to be some pain; it was inevitable, but I didn't expect it to feel so good either.

"Fuck," Noah rested his forehead against my collarbone. "So tight."

He didn't move at first, relishing in the way I felt gripping his cock, and I couldn't take it anymore; I needed him to move.

"Noah," I begged while grinding against him.

One hand gripping my thigh, the other was placed next to my head to keep himself supported as he finally moved his hips in slow, deep strokes.

"Faster," I panted, almost pleading.

Slow was good but right now I needed fast.

Noah accepted my pleas and began slamming into me with such force, I cried out in name with a mixture of pleasure and pain. My hand slipped between our bodies to rub at my clit, hoping that the sensation would ease the pain a bit, but it could only do so much.

He noticed something was wrong with the way my face contorted in pain. "Angel, do you want to get on top?"

"Fuck yes, please."

Still buried deep inside of me, Noah rolled our bodies so now I was straddling him and almost immediately, the pain subsided; it was still there but not as strong. My hands sprawled over the tattoos that covered his chest as I leaned down to lick my way across the snake and apple on his neck. The noise he made, and his moans were so soft as my hot tongue went up and down his neck, I grazed over his Adam's apple with my teeth and bit down. Noah shook underneath me as he wrapped an arm around my back to hold me closer, burying his thick, aching cock, deeper inside of me.

We felt the rush, the aching, burning blush. We surrendered to the touch. I gave him a show. This is heaven in hiding.

"Angel," he begged as my teeth worked on leaving a mark against the hand on his neck. "I need-."

"What do you need?" I ground my hips against his pelvis and the sensation sent sparks to my clit and I clenched around him.

"Fuck," he cursed. "Don't stop what you're doing. It feels so good."

"Oh," I bit down on a new patch of skin on his throat. "This?"

"Yes," he dragged out the S for a few seconds.

My hands went to run through his hair but I almost forgot in our haste that I braided it a few minutes before this.

"Angel," Noah's voice was raw. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you."

I sat up slowly to stare down at him in awe as his words made me feel unspeakable things.

In one quick action, his hand snaked behind my head to pull my lips back down to him to kiss me feverishly.

"Noah," I tugged on his braids.

"Shit, give me a minute. I can take them out."

I didn't stop moving my hips against him. "Noah. I-."

"Just second, angel."

His hands left their vice grip on my hips to take out his hair but I quickly slapped his hands while sinking deeper on his cock. "Leave them."

The same sensation of a cresting orgasm filled every inch of me, ecstasy shooting through my veins like a drug, and when Noah's thumb pressed fast circles against my clit, I leaned my head up towards the ceiling, lips parting as my hands wrapped around his braids, pulling with such force he choked on my name. I rode Noah faster, needing that last little bit of friction to tip me over the edge and when I finally let the bliss plow through me in droves, I held my breath.

"Angel," Noah cupped my cheek so I could look down at him. "Breathe through it with me."

I did as he said, both of us breathing out my orgasm as our eyes locked intently with each other. I writhed against him, my arousal soaking the condom and parts of his hips. It was such a simple action but the way it set my body on fire intensified the aftershocks to something I'd never experienced. Noah stared down to the place where we met and with a noisy moan, he wrapped an arm tighter around me to pull me flush against his chest as his hips stilled for a second before he emptied himself inside the condom.

NOAH

I pressed light kisses all along Y/N's shoulder blades, in shock and almost slight jealousy as I took in every inch of the large tattoo that covered her back. It was of a large snake that wrapped along every groove of her spine with an array of different Japanese flowers.

Afterward, I let her fall onto the mattress with a happy sigh, immediately grasping the pillow closer to her chest and that's when I noticed the tattoo.

"I can't believe I've never noticed this before," I mused while running a finger over the ink.

"It's taken like two years to complete. It's my second favorite after the one on my leg of the Gods," she rested her chin on her palm. "You know what I just realized? We have similar tattoo themes; copy cat."

Her finger grazed over the snake and apple along my neck.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "All you need is an apple right here."

I smacked right above her ass and she shrieked while falling into the pillow once again, a long but content sigh falling from her lips. I kissed from between her shoulder blades down her back, my nails grazing beyond the wake of my lips.

"Are you okay?" I wondered while gently squeezing her hips.

“Yeah, I think so. I feel content, just basking in it. You?”

I nodded and kissed the side of her head as I lay next to her. "I feel great."

"Do you know what you want in 10 years?" Y/N blurted out.

“That’s a random question” I chuckled while kissing her lips.

She sighed and looked up at me through her lashes. “I know but think about it, like really think about it?”

I thought deeply about her question, fingers still grazing her spine. “Alright I’ll bite, I don’t know, I’ve always been trying to make it with whatever bullshit has been going on in my fucking life- just wanting to mean something to somebody, make music- for anybody out there to listen. To be the fucking king you know?”

She laughs. "And?"

"Way down the road maybe one day in the future- to live in the middle of nowhere with a dog, cats, and a family of my own. In my wooden home that I built."

Y/N's body went rigid with my words.

"But right now, no dog, no family just…just Bad Omens," I finished with a hopeful breath.

She hummed in response but turned her head to face the wall opposite of us, something bothering her. Not wanting to push it, I left another kiss on her spine before I slipped out of bed to discard of the condom in the bathroom trash, a light red color catching my attention.

Once back in the room, I slipped back underneath the covers.

"Angel?"

Another hum vibrated from her throat, sleep weighing heavy on her shoulders.

"Did you get your period?"

I swore I saw all the breath leave her body with my question and my mind panicked, thinking she was embarrassed.

"It's fine," I rubbed her back soothingly. "I just saw some blood on the condom, that's all."

When she still said nothing, I nudged her face with my nose. "Are you alright?"

"Yep," she said quietly.

"Stay till morning?" I asked, hopefully.

Finally, she turned to face me and left a kiss on my nose. "I have to go."

My heart fell into the dark pits of my stomach as I watched her slip out from underneath the sheet to gather her clothes. "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Noah." She slipped back into her clothes rather quickly. "I just have an early flight to catch and I know you have one too."

I shook my head and stood to my feet while slipping my briefs and joggers back on. "I don't buy that. We were great, where did you go just now?"

She doesn't want to leave, I can see that in the way her movements slowed once she was dressed, almost as if she was buying time for me to say something that would change her mind. But she refused to meet my gaze.

"Angel, look at me. What's the matter?" I asked again.

"Nothing-," she began with a sigh.

"Then why won't you stay?"

The fear of her slipping between my fingers was debilitating.

"Noah, you know I can’t; we can’t," Y/N stumbled over her words.

I stretched my arms out wide at my sides. "Why? Why can’t you?"

With her gaze still cast down to her feet, she shook her head. "You don’t want me Noah, trust me, you don’t want any part of this."

"Bullshit," I spat as my anger got the best of me.

Y/N's head snapped up towards me, finally looking me in my eyes and all I saw in hers were the wetness of tears. "I have this condition that already makes my life harder every fucking month. I don't need to bring you into it and ruin our future, alright?"

My heart stopped for a few seconds. "Condition? What the fuck, are you dying or something? I don't know what the hell this means."

"No," she rushed out. "I'm not dying. I-I don't want to get into this right now. All I know is that I would need you a lot more than you'd need me. And you deserve better than me, anyway."

"Don't-" I started while pointing a finger at her.

She ran a distressed hand through her hair. "You know it’s true Noah, please. This is hard enough as it is. Walking out right now."

The bed stood between us and I hated feeling so far from her even though we were still in the same room so I walked around it, standing a few inches in front of her now.

"I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life too, Y/N. Don’t sit there and tell me what I can and can’t handle. Don’t sit there and tell me what I want or don’t want. You’re just so afraid of us," I pointed between us.

She grasped her elbows to hug herself and I could see the way her mind was running, gears turning hastily. Y/N was shutting down in front of me and I fucking hated it.

"Don’t fucking do that. I’m not him," I assured her with a gentler tone.

All of this was a trauma response, something so embedded deep into her brain that it was the only way she knew how to act. I know she felt the same way that I did; it was clear with what happened not even an hour ago. If she didn't feel the way I did, she wouldn't have shown up tonight. Y/N wants to stay, I can see it in the way her eyes keep darting to the bed but the pain and trauma were too deep.

"I’m sorry angel, I just- you’re wrong. I know how I feel about you, and I know what you feel about me."

I went to reach for her hands but she took a step back, a few tears falling to the ground below.

"I know what I feel. It’s not you, it’s me, Noah."

Not that fucking line.

"No. Fuck, angel! Stop! The future hasn't even happened yet. Please, don't-what do you need to happen?"

Her bottom lip trembled as a broken sob clawed its wait through her throat. "I-I think we need to remain friends right now. I can't-I can't get lost in you, Noah. It's so fucking easy to. I think we need space."

"I-I don't fucking want that, Y/N. I just want you."

"Noah, please understand where I'm coming from," she begged.

I paced the room, hands shaking in anger. Defeat? I wasn't sure.

"Angel-I. Please, just-," I eventually sighed in defeat.

"I'm going to head out."

Y/N nodded towards the door after gathering her things and stepped past me to leave.

The fear of losing her completely is what made me give in to her wishes. As much as I wanted to fight her choice, I needed her as a friend more than something more. I'll take what I can get for right now until she realizes she feels the same; I know she does.

As she opened the door, my feet closed the distance between us in two large steps and I grasped her chin, forcing her to look at me. The tears burned with the need to fall but she held fast and strong, refusing to show me how badly walking away was affecting her.

I brushed my lips across hers in a soft kiss. "I can wait for you."

She tried to disagree but my grip was too strong. "Noah- I can’t ask you to do that. That’s not fair. You deserve-"

“Don’t tell me what you think I deserve." I let out a shaky breath. "Look, heaven knows I’m not getting over you, I can wait”

“Besides. I’m known for having a lot of fuckin patience. I will wait." I finished with a shrug.

If I wasn't already staring intently at her, I almost would have missed the small nod she gave me; but I didn't. I saw it.

“Goodnight Noah.”

With one final kiss, not enough to remember the way she tastes, Y/N let the door shut behind her as I burned my hateful gaze through it. She left? How the fuck could she just leave after the night we had together?

No, fuck that.

I barreled through the door in time to notice she was only two doors down, frozen in her spot.

"Angel," I called after her.

Slowly, she turned, and I sucked in a breath when I saw the redness in her eyes, puffy with teh tears she let out as soon as the door closed. Mine mirrored hers.

"Please," I begged. "Just come back to me. I'll wait for you."

Y/N hesitated but within that hesitation, something stood out clear as day; she took a small step towards me until that doubt filled the back of her mind yet again. I stayed in the hallway watching as she turned the corner, disappearing from my vision and life; my words not being enough to make her stay.

Back inside the room, I let the door slam shut and made a beeline toward the minibar. I screwed off the cap of the Hennessy, downing half of it in one go.

"Bitter ends to the night. I'm along for the ride," I raised the bottle in the air before taking another long, slow gulp with my eyes screwed shut.

Suddenly, they snapped open, and I rummaged around the mess of my room for my phone, quickly typing out a text to Jolly.

I need to write a song, now.

Only a few minutes passed before he responded, just enough time for me to pop open another bottle.

Now? It's three in the morning and we have nothing here.

Doesn't fucking matter. I'll figure it out. Come to my room.

Letting the bottle slip from my fingers, I stalked over to the wall and slid down until my ass hit the floor with a thud; the image of Y/N crying and walking away burned into my brain. I was out of breath, out of time trying to stop her but, in the end, everything has a price. And I was paying for it.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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joels-shitty-puns · 4 days

Text

Kings & Queens

Pairing: Post-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: I saw a list of reverse writing tropes, one of which was "too many beds" which I thought was hilarious until my brain went crazy. So here's where my mind went when there are oddly... too many beds.

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: None! This could even be read as platonic.

Other stuff: No descriptors. It can be romantic or friendly. Choose your adventure.

To those of you who are reading this: Thank you! I know I haven't written in months. I have barely even been on here. I want that again, but mentally I just haven't been feeling like much of anything lately. That being said, I saw the trope and I had an idea and quickly scribbled this down. It is short, not my best work, and doesn't have much emotion, but I did it :) To those of you who might also be struggling, I see you! You'll get through this. I hope all my tumblr buddies are doing well. I miss you guys.

_________________________________

It had been nearly a year of patrols with Joel. A year of nasty buildings and hard rocky floors to take shelter for the night, a year of either taking turns on watch, or being stuck sharing the same sleeping bag. Or the same mattress. Your only reprieve was your nice bed in Jackson, which you knew was safe, and warm, and most importantly… yours.

Joel was… alright. You two were friendly at best. But for the most part, it was all business. He didn't like to talk much, and you became tired of receiving looks or grunts when asking about Ellie, or Tommy, or his former life. But you worked well together, you made a good team, and you trusted each other to stay safe. You had run into trouble before, and you always had each other's backs. Words were often left unsaid, but you both knew what you meant to the other.

So when you stumbled upon an abandoned shopping mall while scoping potential areas of left-behind goods, it was a breath of fresh air. Malls could be dangerous with so much ground to cover, and so many potential hiding places and dark corners for the cordyceps to fester.

But the mall could also be a light at the end of the tunnel. A plethora of abandoned items to loot and sell or keep for yourself.

After hours of digging through every nook and cranny, you managed to fill a couple of bags full of items, and planned to make it a regular stop on your raids. But as the time grew later, the long-broken clock didn't tick on, and the windows grew dim, you knew it would be an overnight stay. However, choosing a sleeping spot was becoming exhausting with Joel around.

“I saw a sporting goods store. They probably have some sleeping bags, or maybe even a tent,” you provided.

“Nah, we're indoors. I wanna sleep like I'm indoors,” gruffed Joel.

“Oookay. How about that old food place? I think I saw a conveyer belt in the kitchen, next to the oven! It looks like it was used to make pizza,” you chirped excitedly. “I bet we could set up some blankets and make it like a bed.”

“Look, I know that machinery and oven have been dead for years, but on the off chance there's some malfunction, that just seems like a Final Destination event waitin’ to happen,” Joel shook his head.

“Wow you're difficult..” you huffed. “What if we go into the old children's photography studio and make a fort! The walls are even painted to look like a sky,” you offered with doe-eyes.

Joel just looked at you before grumbling back a “no. My back would kill me. There's gotta be a bed in here somewhere.”

Upon finding an old, faded mall map, Joel studied it before picking up the pace with a clear destination in mind.

He came to a stop in front of “Royal Mattressty.”

You raised a brow before saying “royal… mattress-tea?? What?”

“It's a play on words. Royal majesty.”

“That's the stupidest thing I ever heard,” you rolled your eyes.

“No, no, it's because mattresses come in Kings, Queens, and-” he broke off at your grimace.

“You're such a dad!”

____

The two of you made your way inside, only to find nearly 100 beds. Memory foam, spring, water, reclining… the possibilities were endless.

“WOW!” You squealed, running from bed to bed. “There's too many beds. I can't choose!”

Joel stretched, moving to a bed near the back corner. “I'm gonna set up here for the night. Sleep where y’want,” he gestured.

Sitting on a few different beds, you finally settled on one. A perfect, firm yet soft bed at the far end of the store. It was against a wall, allowing you to still see the door and keep your back safe. Perfect.

____

But as the night ticked on, you tossed and turned. You weren't at your home in Jackson. This bed was nice… but it wasn't your safe, cozy cabin.

When you aren't home, you're with Joel. All this time you've been wanting space at night, but now you feel scared and alone. Even a bit cold. But Joel was over on his own bed, probably sound asleep. You wouldn't dare take that away from him.

___

Until what felt like an hour passed.

___

And then another hour…

___

Finally, it had been about an hour and a half when you gave in. You wouldn't be getting any sleep at this rate. Fatigue is a dangerous fate when you need to be alert in this world. So you swallowed your pride and walked over to Joel's bed in the far end of the store.

But he wasn't there…

You wandered back, a bit nervous, until you spotted him. Curled up on a mattress only a row away from yours, you saw him blink in the night.

“You moved beds?” you whispered.

“Yeah, there was a draft over there…”

“A draft? In a mall with no electricity and no windows in this store?” You asked skeptically.

“Mmhm…” he grunted, sleepily.

“Sure. Well… turns out there was a draft over in my corner too. Move over,” you nudged.

“Draft, huh?” He wiggled over, letting you in the bed.

“Mmhm…” you mimicked his earlier grunt, settling in next to him.

“Good night Joel,” you whispered.

“G’night,” he replied, pressing his body closer to yours in the king sized bed.

Maybe there is such a thing as too many beds after all.

__________

Thanks for reading!!! Let me know what you think, and be sure to check out my masterlist for more. Reblogs are appreciated! Xoxo

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n #the last of us hbo #joel tlou #tlou

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runby2 · 4 months

Text

hi it's the creator of horse plinko and other huge posts on this site.

i wanted to make a quick post on here, not to keep everyone updated on my life, because i'm going to keep staying far away from social media, but to let everyone know that if you feel like you are endlessly changing yourself to fit your following's perfect standards, you are not actually getting better as a person. why do i say this? growing up, i had a horrible childhood and it was hard to grasp a sense of self, so the internet was a good escape. i made posts about current topics, tried to get a lot of notes, and when i got those notes i felt like my life had a purpose. i didn't let myself ever find out who i truly was because early on i was so obsessed with being the perfect persona on the internet and avoiding home life, that i had literally linked my life cable to the internet. i was the living definition of chronically online. i was so young too, so i saw a bright future ahead of myself. "it can only go up from here." 3 years of complete isolation happened after my 18 years in a cult, and recovering from mental institutional abuse. and i went by juicedoesthings. and i fought with every part of myself, ignoring my DID and even having alters post inspirational paragraphs about why DID is 'something i know i don't have because ___'- some you can probably still find on this blog buried deep somewhere - i was lost in a cycle of amnesia and perfectionism to the point ALL of my identities were juicedoesthings, and we were all the same, and if one of us stepped out of line, we'd shun it. we couldn't risk being problematic. we couldn't risk everything we've worked up to be crumble. because that was all we were. don't make your identity a username. don't keep track of what is and is not acceptable at the current time in a fandom of any sort. don't curate your art just because a discourse blog reblogged it for clout. don't overthink some personal statement you made just because thirty people sent you personalized death threats. don't forget about nuance, and in the most sincere way i can communicate this, touch grass. and find out what comforts you. learn what makes you happy, not what can improve you. this post will probably be drowned under reblogs as my life goes on and i occasionally check back into this ghost town of what used to be my only identity. but tumblr fame has irreversibly damaged me, and how i perceive myself. it took so long for me to feel like it was okay to make mistakes. if the above sounds like you, i desperately urge you to find a way out of that cycle. don't chase fame online. anonymity can definitely get you where you want to be safely. over my years on here ive seen children adults and teens ask how to make a webcomic, how i got this many followers, how i became "me". i was conforming. i became perfect for the internet, but i didn't have any sense of self. don't be like me. don't become me. just create, and disconnect yourself from who you think you need to be in order to be enough.

#positivity #recovery #art #webcomics #juicedoesthings

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evvlevie · 2 years

Text

I SHIFTED FOR THE FIRST TIME !!!! (as detailed as a shifting blogger can be but scroll down for the juicy part)

Hi, Hello, my beautiful beautiful readers! It's your favorite blogger Evie again and I don't know where to begin 😭 You've read the title so you know damn well what this post is about, and I am freaking over the moon to say it finally happened!

"So how did you shift?" Is most likely your very first question, and I promise I will answer it, but not without giving you full context on what led up to this magical event (or just scroll down in case only the shifting part concerns you)

so as I mentioned in my last post I had been in this state of not putting any effort into my shifting attempts anymore and basically treating shifting like any other of my manifestations: that it will happen on its own, if I simply want to.

⇣the post in question in case you're interested⇣

"Did it work?", you may be wondering. It did not. It might work for other people, because some points I made in that post still apply to me, but the idea of just counting on it to happen on its own didn't really work in my case. This being said, just because it didn't work for me, doesn't mean it can't work for you, and if you are an advanced manifestor who has complete trust in the law, this mindset might even be yours to apply.

Ever since I posted this, some days went by and my typical shifting-cycle repeated. I didn't shift after being so confident I would, and then the realization hit hard and I became severely demotivated. I even told my shifting bestie I was about to give up and lucky for me she motivated me and gave me back my faith. Speaking of faith: I had been noticing that certain angel numbers kept reoccurring in my life. The numbers being 1237 and 119. These numbers seem random, but 12:37 is the time my niece was born and 11th of September is my birthday. (yes I was born on 9/11, no not in the year that it happened, but two years later which is basically irrelevant information but it's a little fun fact about me.) I always thought the universe was showing me my birthday, up until I googled both of these numbers and realized they both mean something among the lines of "keep faith and trust in the universe". And lucky for you I did.

⇣small fangirl and shout-out-moment ⇣

Then on Monday I had a doctors appointment, and being bored in the waiting room I opened Tumblr. My feed was full of law of assumption content and I actually took the time and read through them all, and I reposted the ones I felt like gave me a lot of insight. Now to the freaking craziest part of all of this. (okay not true but it sure meant the world to me). I wake up in Tuesday and see that THE @astra-nomy reposted my post about the newest shifting tip I had found, and not only that, my comfort-shifter @multiversebaddie not only liked one of my posts, BUT FOLLOWED ME BACK. All in the same night and even right after another. CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT THAT DID TO ME????? I was like no, nope you guys, I can't not shift if my favourite shifting and loa bloggers fucking found out I existed. (APHRODITE FOLLOWS ME I CANT COMPREHEND THAT). Plus @lavender--fairy commented on the post mentioned earlier, and her post that I reblogged, was the one who actually gave me the key to shifting. Hell yes. I mean I knew what I needed to know from other bloggers anyway, but her post actually brought me back to the correct mindset.

✧THE ACTUAL SHIFTING EXPERIENCE AKA THE REASON YOU ARE READING THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE✧

so now it is Wednesday. I never really talked about what DR I am shifting to, and I mentioned it somewhere on an old ass post but to put it as briefly as I can: my DR contains a certain group of YouTubers, and I am shifting so I can be friends with them. Now they post videos on Wednesdays and due to the time difference I get to watch them at 11:30 pm, so basically right before going to bed. I went and grabbed a quick shower and then I laid in bed and started doing what I was always doing: affirming. But due to me being me this quickly turned into overthinking and overcomplicating EVERYTHING which is why I stopped, went back on TikTok to clear my thoughts a little and then returned to my attempt.

✨ THE METHOD ✨

☞ I laid in a position most comfortable to me and I started imagining myself in my DR making myself ready for bed. In my head I reminded myself of the thing that I was able to remember due to @lavender--fairy 's post: The 4D is the real reality, and the 3D is only the translation of your inner thoughts. meaning: if I can visualize it, I am already IN it.

☞ Along with me imagining my DR-me doing what I did, I always reminded myself (affirming if you will) that if I can imagine it, I am in it. I purposely chose the Visualization of me doing things I was already doing in my CR day-to-day because you can feel the moment so much better and ground yourself in that reality way easier than imagining me climbing a mountain since I never did that.

☞ I was making myself aware over and over again, that the imagination is the real reality and that if I can imagine it, I am in it. For as long as I was trying to fall asleep. I even moved and rearranged my position constantly, imagining that I was my DR-me doing the same thing. I really just emerged myself in that visualization and started feeling what ever I did, because essentially that's how manifestation works. You don't need to worry about the 3D, and you don't have to feel like you're lacking something. You imagined it in the 4D, so you already did it silly!

☞ In combination to that I never forced myself to stay focused on my DR. Because as mentioned in this post below, you are supposed to let you mind do its own thing in a way, because you can't shift If you are too aware of what you are trying to do.

✨ THE MOMENT ✨

I found myself in this weird state between falling asleep and still being conscious enough to see and understand what you are envisioning. So I was technically awake while it happened. I didn't visualize my DR anymore, instead my mind went into a completely different direction and I saw myself buying milk with Harry Styles. No I did not even script him into my DR, this was just my brain doing brain things. Nonetheless I was still affirming that if I can see it, I am in it, and suddenly I felt myself getting pulled. I heard a little whooshing sound and I literally zoomed out of my body. I was standing in a dark corridor and I could see an open door in the distance with a little something happening in the room it was leading to but I was too far away to see what was happening. Suddenly the corridor started spinning and I felt myself getting pulled into a whole different door. I gained consciousness in this unknown room, but I couldn't tell where I was, or what I was seeing, because it was just dark in there and my eyes had no chance of adjusting quickly enough. I panicked and before I could even comprehend it, I knew I set the intention to shift back to my CR. I got pulled back into this mysterious corridor and shoved into another door by some weird energy and I opened my eyes back in the CR. I know it wasn't a dream because this whole zooming out, the mysterious energy sending me from door to door and the random dark room felt way too physical for it to be a dream. I could literally feel myself in this corridor as only a "being" of some sort, but definitely not as a human with a physical form. From the many success stories I have read regarding shifting realities, I have noticed that many shifters do not reach their desired reality on their first try. Almost every shifter that has talked about shifting mentioned that their first shift was weird and to a strange, undefined reality. (@multiversebaddie shifted to a random ass classroom for example)

✨ ADVICE TO TAKE AWAY FROM THIS EXPERIENCE ✨

I believe I shifted when I did, because my mind was in this gloomy state between conscious and unconscious, which ultimately made me believe myself on the spot when I told myself the affirmations I mentioned earlier. I did not doubt them and that's probably why the void state is such a powerful state to be in, because even if I wasn't, I imagine it to be very similar to this.

Another thing, that won't hurt you is educating yourself on the law of assumption. I know it helped me a lot and I believe that people who struggle with shifting, would benefit if they understood the way manifestation worked because ultimately manifestation and shifting is the same thing.

If you read everything from top to bottom: I love you. If you are doubting shifting, your ability to do it, or wether or not it is real: I can guarantee you as a first-person-witness: not only is it real, it's something every single dingus out there can achieve! And if I can help you in any way, shape, or form: don't be afraid to ask.

I send a lot of love and a lot of positive vibes to everyone reading this! I had been waiting to do this post ever since I created my blog and I still can't believe that I finally got to do it 😭

Yours in every reality

Evie <3

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 1 year

Text

Spring Fling

(gif by @pedropascalsx. I've given up using Tumblr gif search)

Pairing: Marcus Pike x virgin f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 19,228. Oops.

Warnings: Significant age gap (almost 20 years), college-age reader, sexual tension, mentions of: strained familial relationships, divorce, unhealthy breakups, stalker(ish) behavior (PAST), therapy. Virgin/inexperienced reader, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), unprotected PIV sex and a lot of it, comeplay if you squint, Marcus’s filthy filthy mouth, happy ending

Summary: When you and your friend, fellow pre-Law student Emma, plan to go to Washington DC for spring break instead of the typical beach destination, she makes plans for the two of you to stay with her estranged father for the week to save money on lodging. You never expected Emma’s father, a man she says she’s barely seen throughout the years, to be so sweet, so troubled, and so unfairly pretty. Neither did you expect for what you'd thought was a one-sided attraction to turn into a spring fling... or maybe something more.

A/N: I got an ask asking about 'Best Friend's Dad' Marcus Pike, so I now post a question to you, dear reader: What if Marcus Pike had a college-age kid from his first marriage, one that he'd entered into at a very young age because of an unplanned pregnancy? Anyway to find out the answer read this almost 20k fic LOL

Masterlist

"We should go somewhere for spring break."

Your friend and fellow pre-Law student at the University of Texas, Emma, laughs. "Go somewhere? Like what, the fucking beach? And with what money?"

"No, no beaches. Somewhere cool. Somewhere unusual."

"Like what?" Emma asks, shoving another handful of chips in her mouth.

"I've never been to Washington, DC," you comment thoughtfully.

"I thought every public school in the entire country went to DC at some point," Emma remarks.

"I had the chickenpox."

"Ew."

"Do you think that would be fun? Going to the Capitol for break?" you ask.

"I guess," Emma shrugs. "It's better than going to writhe on the beach with fifty thousand wasted twentysomethings."

"There's still the issue of how to pay for a trip. For any trip. I think I could cover airfare, but a DC hotel? Ugh," you say with a groan.

"I could put the hotel on my credit card and work a bunch of extra shifts at Pizza Express afterward to make up for it," Emma says. "But that would pretty much max out my card."

"I can look up the cheapest spots outside the city," you suggest. "And we can take the metro in."

"Outside the city isn't going to be much better," Emma remarks. "We could… nah."

You look up, curious. "We could… what?"

"Well, my uh, my dad actually lives in DC."

"Your dad?" you repeat incredulously. "You've literally never mentioned your dad. I thought he and your mom were estranged?"

"Sorta," Emma says. "The official story is that they married too young and eventually separated."

"...And the unofficial story?"

"My mom found out she was pregnant at nineteen, and my dad wanted to do the right thing, so he married her. But I guess they weren't right for each other, because they were already divorced by the time I was two."

"Do you see him much?" you ask.

"I used to," Emma says quietly. "But my mom was never really enthusiastic about spending much time together, so it wasn’t very often. And then he moved to DC when I was a junior in high school, and I haven't seen him since. He always sends me cards on my birthday and Christmas, though. And…" she suddenly blushes, looking down and away.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What, Em?"

"He pays for my tuition."

"What?!"

"Yeah, I've barely had to take out any loans. It's just for housing and stuff."

"You ass, you never told me that!"

"It's not common knowledge," Emma mumbles. "Besides, no one wants to admit they've got an absent, divorced father paying the bills."

"But you'd want to contact him for this? For a place to crash over spring break for a week?"

"He's nice," Emma says quietly. "I always got the feeling that he wanted to do his best by us."

"I mean, if you're cool with it, it kinda sounds fun," you admit. "Better than Galveston, anyway."

Emma laughs. "Yeah, way better than Galveston."

"Holy shit, Em, you can see the Capitol from here."

The two of you had emerged from the underground tunnel of the metro station, trailing suitcases behind you, into what feels like the middle of the city itself. The busy street is flanked with large condominiums on both sides, with--unbelievably--a view of the Capitol building in the distance.

"I think it's this one," Emma says, squinting at the address on her phone and back up at one of the buildings.

"How do we get in?" you ask.

"He just said to text him," Emma answers. "Hang on." She taps out a message on her phone before sliding it back into her pocket. "And now we wait."

You barely have time to check your email before the front door opens and a man emerges, striding quickly toward the two of you. You think he's about to envelop your friend into a crushing hug, but he stops short, eyes wavering with uncertainty as he looks his daughter up and down. His hand reaches toward her arm, but he hesitates just short of touching.

"Emma," the man breathes, the emotion evident in his voice making you want to duck your head and turn away from the scene.

"Hey, uh, Dad," Emma says, giving him a sheepish smile. "Been a while."

"It's been six years," the man says emphatically.

"Yeah."

You watch as Emma's father's fingers twitch toward her. "C-Can I–"

Emma shrugs. "'Course."

The man carefully steps forward and wraps his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. His eyes close, his eyebrows pull upward to reveal a deep crease in between them as he holds his daughter for apparently the first time in six years. This time, you do look away from what feels like surprisingly tender and private moment.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for your graduation," you hear him say softly. "I was undercover for a case, and… Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry. You don't know how badly I wanted to be there."

"S'okay," Emma says cooly. She steps back, and, for the first time, her father seems to notice you.

"Hi," he says brightly, and his pained, heartfelt expression melts into an easy smile as he extends his hand to you. "Marcus."

You don't know what you had been expecting. Maybe someone older. Maybe someone less… attractive. Not this frankly gorgeous man, with his boyish smile, pretty eyes that crinkle around the edges, slightly mussed brown hair that falls over his forehead, and the light smattering of facial hair that only seems to soften his features further. Not that he needed any help, in that respect. Slightly stunned, you step forward and take the man’s hand, trying not to trip over the syllables of your own name.

Marcus’s smile widens, and he repeats your name, which does nothing to quell the sudden burst of butterflies in your stomach–and are your palms sweating?

"Thank you for allowing us to stay for the week," you say politely, forcing yourself out of the trance.

"Not a problem," Marcus answers. "What a great destination for spring break! Whose idea was that?"

"Mine," you say with a little laugh.

"My kind of girl," Marcus jokes. "Keeping my daughter out of trouble."

"Dad," Emma groans. "I'm not a kid."

"Well, last time I saw you, you were fifteen," Marcus says pointedly. "You're gonna have to let my brain do a little catch-up, here."

"Well, to start with, I'm not a beach party kind of person," Emma says. "I'm a nerd–y'know, being pre-Law and all."

Emma's father beams. "So I've heard. Well, I'm happy to host two nerds while they do a little sightseeing in the nation's Capitol. I can even," he adds with a conspiratorial smile, "give you a tour of the J. Edgar Hoover building. If–If you want," he finishes awkwardly, appearing hesitant and unsure again.

"Oh, cool!" you exclaim automatically, without thinking.

Marcus grins widely at your enthusiasm, and you find yourself staring at your shoes, biting your lip as you flounder under his attention. You're being weird. Stop it.

"Y-Yeah," Emma adds, nodding hesitantly. "That would be nice... Dad. Thanks."

“C’mon,” Marcus says, grabbing both Emma’s bag and, before you can protest, yours. “Come on up. I ordered some pizza for everyone. You can get settled tonight and… go do whatever you two want to do in the morning.”

The two of you follow Marcus through the lobby and into the elevator. You can’t help but keep stealing little glances at him–the way his shoulders fill out the maroon henley he’s wearing over jeans, the way those shoulders taper down to narrow hips, the way he’s got the top two buttons of his shirt casually undone, showing you a hint of collarbone that has you damn-near salivating. Snap out of it. Oh, God, snap out of it. You’ve known the man for five minutes, and you feel like you’re losing your mind. It’s gonna be a long week if you don’t pull it together.

Marcus opens the front door and gestures the two of you in before him. You stand awkwardly in the living room, looking around at the furniture and at the decor on the walls, looking anywhere but at your best friend’s dad, whose very presence seems to fluster you beyond all reason.

“I just have one spare room, hopefully you two don’t mind sharing…?” Marcus asks.

“That’s fine,” Emma says good-naturedly.

“It’s just through here,” he says, walking past you. “I’ll set your bags down in there and show you around.”

The room is clearly his workspace–there’s a desk and a chair shoved into a corner to make room for a comfortable-looking guest bed. The side wall is covered with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and you subconsciously step toward them, eager to see what titles this man keeps on his shelves.

“Sorry, it’s kind of an… all-purpose room,” Marcus says sheepishly. “Bit cluttered.”

“I like it,” you murmur absentmindedly, still scanning the spines.

“‘Gardner’s Art Through the Ages’” Emma reads, crinkling her nose. “How many editions of this book do you have?”

Her father laughs. “It’s work stuff, mostly. Although there’s a few thrillers here and there. And some classics.” He approaches the shelves as well, and you can feel the hair on the back of your neck start to stand up on end at the sensation of his body hovering just behind you. You’re so… aware of him. You don’t know if it’s because Marcus seems to naturally command every space he’s in or if there’s something electric that’s pulling you toward him, but either way, your entire body feels as though it’s on high alert.

A sharp buzzing makes you jump comically, making Emma snort.

“That’ll be the pizza,” Marcus announces. “Be right back.”

You glance over at Emma, who is still staring disinterestedly at the bookshelves. “It’s a nice place,” you say conversationally.

“Mmmhm.”

“You okay?” you ask softly.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma scoffs, waving her hand. “Just been a while. It’s weird. You know.”

“He seems nice,” you say.

“He is,” she remarks. “I told you he was. I just… don’t know him very well. Like he said, I haven’t seen him in six years.”

“Maybe this will be good, then,” you suggest. “Get to know him now that you’re an adult and all that.”

Emma shrugs. “Maybe.”

You look back at the shelves. Emma was right; Marcus does have an alarmingly large number of editions of Art Through the Ages. You furrow your brow.

“What does your dad do in DC?”

“Oh, did I not tell you? He’s in the FBI.”

You feel as though you’ve swallowed your tongue, but before you can garble out a response–something like, “Mmmgnnbbllgffnhh?”–you hear Marcus coming back.

“Get it while it’s hot!” he says cheerfully. “You guys must be hungry after traveling all day.”

“Oh wow, Dad, that’s… a lot of pizza for three people,” Emma says, her eyebrows raising in surprise and confusion.

She’s right–there are five boxes sitting on the small kitchen island, along with several options of drink.

“I had no idea what either of you liked,” Marcus reasoned. “So I got a few different options. Cheese, pepperoni, supreme, hawaiian, and some kind of vegan thing, just in case.”

“You know, you could have just texted,” Emma remarks, at the same time that you whisper, “Thank you.”

Marcus looks sheepish. “Wanted to surprise you. Anyway, dig in–there’s obviously a lot.” He laughs quietly to himself, grabbing three plates and setting them down on the counter. You grab three different kinds–supreme, hawaiian, and the vegan option, out of curiosity–and sit on one of the barstools opposite Marcus. Emma grabs two cheeses and sits down next to you.

“So,” he says after a few minutes of surprisingly companionable silence. “I know Emma is pre-Law. Are you pre-Law too?” he asks, looking at you with a friendly, curious smile.

“Mmmhmm,” you nod, tight-lipped. You hate this conversation–the college-age version of ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Everyone asks the question with good intent, but it always leaves you in an anxiety spiral, an existential crisis, because no matter how many times you’re asked, you have absofuckinglutely no idea.

“What kind of law do you want to go into?” This question is addressed more to Emma, who immediately launches into an explanation of Environmental Law and the impact of climate change on public health. Marcus nods eagerly, giving Emma his full attention as she talks, watching her with a small smile.

“What about you?” he asks when she’s done, turning to you.

You gulp.

“I don’t—I don’t really know. Not yet, anyways.” You brace yourself for the judgmental eyebrow raise, the well-meaning advice.

“That’s okay,” Marcus says, smiling. “No one says you have to have it figured out at… how old are you?”

“T-Twenty,” you mumble, feeling more naive and inexperienced than you ever have before.

“Nah,” Marcus says, shaking his head playfully. “No one has it figured out at twenty. And the people who think they do? They change.”

His eyes go far away for a split-second, and you wonder what he must have been like at twenty. Did he already have Emma at that point? Did he just find out that his girlfriend was pregnant? Was he panicking, trying to figure out how to make things work? You wonder what it was that he had wanted to do, and what he had sacrificed for Emma and her mom. You wonder if he had wanted the divorce, or if she had been the one to suggest it.

“Anyway,” Marcus says, casually waving a slice of pepperoni as he talks, “I mostly work with criminal lawyers. If that’s something you’re interested in, I could arrange a chat with someone this week.”

“Oh,” you say, too stunned to say anything else. “Yeah, maybe.”

Marcus shrugs good-naturedly. “Think about it,” he says, giving you another crooked grin. His eyes crinkle around the edges when he smiles, and it makes your stomach do somersaults.

“Yeah,” you say again, a little breathlessly. Your next bite of pizza misses your mouth entirely, and you manage to stab yourself in the cheek with your slice, transferring a glob of tomato sauce onto your face in the process.

Emma laughs, and Marcus’s eyes glitter with amusement as you frantically reach for a napkin.

“So you do, um… FBI stuff?” you ask him clumsily, trying to break the silence.

“Yep. FBI Stuff. Says it on my badge and everything.”

“Why do you have a bunch of art books?”

“I lead an international task force dealing with art crimes,” he answers patiently.

“What constitutes an art crime?” Emma asks, her mouth full.

“Theft,” Marcus lists, “forgeries, black market sales, dealing in antiquities, looting of archaeological sites…”

“Oh, wow,” you breathe, a dopey smile on your face. Emma shoots you a funny look.

“So it’s like, nerdy FBI stuff,” she says.

“The nerdiest,” Marcus agrees, smiling.

“Do you still have a gun and stuff?”

“I do,” Marcus says carefully, frowning slightly. “It’s in the safe for the week, though, while you’re here.”

Your stomach flip-flops at the mental image of Emma’s dad holding a gun, those warm brown eyes dark with focus as he stares down… an art thief. Or something.

“Enough about your old man,” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “What are you two looking to do tomorrow on your first day in DC?”

“Think we’ll hit the museums,” Emma says. “Get them out of the way first. We want to see the Library of Congress, obviously. Plus walking around to all the monuments and stuff. Oh, and the zoo!”

“Do you want my advice?” Marcus asks, and you both nod. “It’s supposed to be unseasonably warm tomorrow, and sunny. I’d do the monument tour or the zoo tomorrow if I were you. Save the indoor stuff for the end of the week, because it’s supposed to rain.”

“Monuments it is!” Emma exclaims. “Hey, can I… can I use your shower? I feel kinda gross from the travel day.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus hops up, leading Emma over to the guest bathroom. You listen as he points out a stack of towels intended for the two of you during your stay, the extra shampoo he’d bought, the spare toothbrushes just in case… Eventually he returns, hands stuffed in his pockets, looking hesitant again.

“Thank you,” you say again. “You went through a lot of trouble, and–”

“It’s no trouble,” Marcus says quickly. “No trouble at all. I–I have to admit I was surprised when Em–when she called, but I’m–I’m more than happy to host you two for the week. It’s no trouble at all,” he repeats.

“Okay,” you say dumbly. You’re staring again, unable to help the way your eyes are drawn to the way his arms fill out the shirt he's wearing when his hands are in his pockets like that.

"You alright?"

Your eyes flit up to his at the question. He's looking back at you, his head cocked to the side as he watches you. And suddenly, you can just tell–you can tell that he knows how flustered you are in front of him.

You nod rapidly up and down in response, not trusting yourself to answer.

"Good. Had enough pizza?"

"Mmhmm."

"Anything else to drink?" he asks.

"Got any beer?" you ask with a quirk of your eyebrow.

"You told me you were twenty," Marcus reminds you.

"Oh."

"And I work for law enforcement," he says gravely.

Oh.

"Oh, f-fuck, I um… I was kidding. Holy shit. I'm sorry. Seriously, I'm not a-a bad… student, or anything. I swear, I–"

As you continue to frantically backtrack, you realize that Marcus’s shoulders are shaking with laughter.

"Oh, you're funny. Real funny. Ha. Ha."

"Next you'll be saying I should quit my day job," he says, his eyes sparkling.

"I'm not sure what kind of art… crime… solver… you are, but I have to believe you're a better agent than you are a comedian," you deadpan.

"You can come to my stand-up show on Tuesday and see for yourself."

Your jaw drops before you realize Marcus's lips are quivering with the effort of keeping a straight face.

"You're on fire, tonight," you say, rolling your eyes.

"You'll have to forgive me," he says, a gentle, more wistful smile gracing his lips. "I don't have company often, and it's been even longer since I've seen–" his eyes flick to the bathroom door, and he looks troubled for a moment.

"Strictly off the record, if you do want a beer, I happen to have some," he says, changing the subject and smiling back at you again.

"Nah, I'll save that favor for later in the week," you tell him.

"Noted," Marcus replies. He's looking at you again, still. He seems to be one of those people who gives all of his focus to someone when they speak, and the attention is starting to overwhelm you.

"Hey!" Emma calls from the guest bedroom. "I wanna get started early tomorrow. Those monuments aren't gonna monument themselves."

You laugh and roll your eyes. "That's my cue," you say with a little smile. "Gonna grab a shower myself and call it a night."

"If you need anything, I'm a room away," Marcus says, but it only serves to remind you that this man will be sleeping in the next room.

"Got it," you say, nodding thickly. "Um, good night."

"Good night," he answers softly.

When you reach the bathroom door, you turn around again–you can't help yourself.

He's still looking at you.

"Get up!

"Get up!"

"GET–"

"Okay!" you whine, throwing an extra pillow in the general direction of Emma's voice. "Fuck. I'm up."

You throw on a pair of jeans and a faded tee, scrubbing your hands over your face as you stumble out of the guest room and into the kitchen, where Marcus hands you a cup of coffee, which you accept with a grunt.

"Emma warned me that you weren't a morning person," he says.

"God, it's both of you, isn't it?" you grumble. "Morning people."

"I guess we turned out alike after all," Marcus says with a soft smile, watching as you take a grateful sip from the mug. "What's the first stop on the list?"

"I dunno, she's got it all planned out," you murmur. "Of like, seeing the farthest place first and working our way back."

"Sounds like a plan," Marcus says. "You two have fun."

"What are you doing today?" Emma interjects, coming into the kitchen, grabbing a bagel off of the counter, and stuffing it into her mouth.

"Well, it's Sunday, so… grocery shopping," Marcus says. "Any special requests?"

"Filet mignon," Emma says.

"You got it. Want some lobster tails as well?"

"Mmhmm."

"I was thinking more along the lines of spaghetti and meatballs. Anything else you ladies would like?"

Emma shuffles her feet, and you frown slightly. You've never known her not to immediately say what's on her mind–and clearly, something is.

"What is it, Emmie?" Marcus asks softly.

"Do you remember that one time that we came to your family's for Christmas–I think I was maybe twelve?–and you made…"

"...Tamales?" Marcus asks, his eyebrows shooting upward.

"Yeah," Emma answers, her voice smaller than you've ever heard it. "I still remember those. They were really good."

"Jesus, I haven't made those in…" he shakes his head. "I don't even know. But uh, sure. We can do that. Tamale night. It's a deal."

"Thanks," Emma says, smiling. "And… really? 'Emmie?' Dad, I'm not seven anymore."

"My mistake," Marcus says with a playful wink in your direction–which might make your heart stop. "You girls stay safe. Text if you need anything."

Marcus was right–the weather is beautiful today. It’s perfect for walking endlessly from monument to monument, which you do all morning. You try to stay focused–thoughtfully reading the names on the Vietnam War Memorial and not thinking about Emma’s dad, in the plain white t-shirt he had been wearing this morning, in the produce section picking out apples. Even worse, you try not to imagine the sight of him cooking tonight.

He’s becoming a bit of an obsession for you, you can admit it. You want to know everything about him–what his job is like, what he does on the weekends, what he likes to read, what he did in the past to alienate the mother of his child enough that he’s barely seen his daughter–who he very clearly cares deeply for…

As you walk around the Washington Monument, you can’t stand it any longer.

“Sooooo. It seems like things are going well between you and your dad,” you say conversationally.

“How do you mean?”

“Less awkward, I guess.”

“It’s not that we don’t get along,” Emma says with a shrug. “We always used to. Like I said, I always thought he was nice. My mom…”

“She didn’t like him?”

“She didn’t want to be around him. I don’t know why. They tried to protect me from the messy parts of divorce, but part of that means that I have no idea what their history is. She never talked about it. Neither did he.”

“Huh.” You stare in silence at the large white obelisk. “I wonder what happened.”

“I thought about asking my mom,” Emma says. “Lots of times, but I never got up the courage.”

“You should ask him,” you say quietly. “I get the feeling he needs to tell the story.”

Emma gives you a funny look. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

You shrug. “I’m weird.”

“Fair.”

The two of you walk until it feels as though your feet are going to fall off.

“My feet are going to fall off,” you announce. “Surely there are no more monuments in the entirety of Washington, DC.”

“We’ve still got the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.”

“Uggghhhh, how important can he be? He’s unknown.”

“This was your idea,” Emma points out. “Go to DC for spring break! Stay with my best friend’s estranged dad! Walk around and see all the monuments and shit!”

“Too many steps,” you groan. “They should all be concentrated in one square mile of land.”

“One more,” Emma promises. “And then spaghetti.”

“And laying on the couch watching TV,” you counter.

“And laying on the couch watching TV,” Emma agrees. “...And tomorrow we go to the zoo.”

“No!”

Marcus chuckles as you stumble into his condo just after six. You immediately collapse onto the couch with an exaggerated groan.

“I’m staying right here for the rest of the week,” you announce.

“It’s been one day,” Marcus points out.

“My phone’s step counter measures over thirty thousand steps,” you mumble. “I’m done.”

“That’s a lot,” Marcus concedes. “Hopefully that means the two of you are hungry this evening.”

“Fucking starving,” Emma agrees, crashing onto the couch herself and nearly colliding with you as she does so.

“Well, since everyone is so tired,” Marcus says, the playfulness evident in his voice, “I’ll make spaghetti and meatballs tonight. Tamales are a group effort, so you two better be ready to work for your food.”

“I shall endeavor to do so,” Emma remarks with an exaggerated accent, causing you to laugh giddily.

While Emma’s eyes are closed, you take advantage, watching Marcus–still with that same fitted white shirt–in the kitchen, boiling water, heating the sauce, and adding the meatballs. He must sense your gaze, because he turns, a characteristic crooked smile on his lips as he acknowledges you.

“I know they’re frozen,” he admits, speaking of the meatballs, “but they always taste the same to me anyway.”

“I can’t wait,” you say, truthfully. “It’s been a long day.”

As if to demonstrate the fact, a loud snore emanates from the body next to you, making you grin.

“I’m glad you guys came,” Marcus says softly. “I don’t often have the opportunity to cook for… more than one.”

“No girlfriend?” you ask conversationally.

Marcus laughs. “I’m… in between things, I suppose.”

“In between,” you parrot with a laugh. “How long have you been ‘in between?’”

He huffs. “Too long,” he murmurs.

“How come?” you ask quietly.

Marcus frowns, thinking. “I dunno. No one recently has been… exactly what I’m looking for.”

“And what are you looking for?” you ask breathlessly.

“Spaghetti,” Emma mumbles from the couch.

“Spaghetti,” Marcus repeats, giving me a slightly melancholy smile. “Exactly. Come and get it, you two.”

Emma stirs, stumbling into the kitchen where two giant bowls of spaghetti and meatballs are awaiting the two of you.

“Holy shit,” she remarks. “Thanks for this.”

“Of course,” Marcus says. “I would never agree for you to stay and then not…” he trails off, unsure of himself.

You’re starting to realize that the bulk of Marcus’s most emotional statements go unsaid. I would ever agree for you to stay and then not take care of you, is what he hadn’t said.

“Still doing the zoo tomorrow?” he asks, changing the subject, as always.

“Yup,” Emma answers.

He huffs, smiling wistfully. “Been ages since I’ve been to a zoo.”

“D’you wanna go?” you ask, before you can determine that it’s a bad idea.

Marcus looks at you, indecisive for a few seconds before he seemingly comes to his senses. “Nah,” he says, grinning. “You two have fun.”

“Are you sure?” Emma asks. “Apparently there’s a new panda baby.”

“That’s a hard bargain,” he admits.

“You should come with,” Emma decides. “It could be fun.”

“All right,” Marcus agrees hesitantly.

“It’s Monday,” you point out. “Don’t you have to work?”

“I’ll call off,” he answers quickly. “Not everyday one’s daughter is in town for an impromptu zoo trip.”

“Look at the little lad,” Emma gushes.

“The what?” Marcus asks.

The three of you are staring at the panda enclosure, watching the newest addition to the zoo cause chaos.

“The chonky boi,” you agree.

“I have no idea what you two are saying,” Marcus admits.

“The baby panda is cute,” Emma offers.

“That I can agree on,” he decides.

The three of you, you’ve decided, make a good team. You try not to think about how your heart burns whenever Marcus looks at you, how your stomach does flips whenever he laughs. If you’re going to be a good friend to Emma–and you are–you’re going to have to put this silly crush aside and accept the fact that he’s a package deal with your best friend.

That doesn’t stop the way the man looks at you, though.

You think you’re imagining it, at first. After all, Marcus seems to be the type of person who focuses completely on whatever anyone has to say. The more you’re with him, though, it’s hard to deny that he seems to look at you just a tiny bit longer.

You start to notice it all day–when you’re looking at the exhibits, Marcus is looking at you.

He’s watching your reaction to them–smiling when you smile, laughing when you laugh. You can’t parse out the meaning behind his actions–does it mean something? If so, what? What does it mean?

You can’t admit the truth to yourself until you’re in the insect house. Emma is giddy with interest, and you… are trying.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asks softly in your ear–and you try not to shiver.

“Great,” you squeak. “Just don’t love the bird-eating spider.”

“I don’t like them either,” he confesses with a smile. “Do you need to leave?”

“Idunno,” you mumble, slurring the words together.

“Emmie,” Marcus announces, “we’re going to take a little break, okay?”

“Mmm.”

You and Marcus escape into the bright sunshine, and you let out an awkward laugh. “I can’t believe they have some of them loose in there–without glass or anything!”

“I’m not going back in that building,” Marcus agrees, laughing with you. “The giant orb weaver was the last straw.”

“That was awful,” you say, nodding.

“Come to think of it, I might be more of a baby panda guy, myself.”

“I’ll take the snakes over this,” you agree.

You sit down on a nearby bench, still giggling together as you wait for Emma.

“Is it weird if I say I’m glad you came?” you ask quietly.

“I’m glad I came, too,” Marcus says beside you.

“I think–” you begin, but Emma emerges from the insect house, grinning ear to ear.

“You think… what?” Marcus asks, but you shake your head and shrug.

“I dunno,” you mumble. “I just… think.”

“Hey, wimps,” Emma shouts. “They let me touch the tarantula.”

Marcus takes the two of you out to dinner at a casual burger spot near his place. While the tension between him and Emma has lessened significantly since the first day, it feels as though it’s been replaced by a thick cloud of tension between the two of you.

There’s something about the man that speaks to you, something within him that seems to vibrate on the same frequency as something within you. Twin souls, you’d say, if you were in a mind to be romantic, except… it can’t be. He must be nearly forty–and almost twice your age. There’s nothing you have that he would want–nothing you could offer a man who has his entire life together while yours has barely started.

Still, the way Marcus laughs at your jokes and gives you knowing glances–as if the two of you are sharing some type of inside joke that you’ve had for years–keeps you flustered and breathless throughout most of the evening.

The glass of wine he offers when you arrive home doesn’t help, either. You watch the red liquid swirl in your glass and wonder how it would taste from his lips, instead. And, when you’ve reached the bottom of your glass, the fuzzy-headed feeling you get from the alcohol combined with the way your stomach swoops in its place every time Marcus’s eyes meet yours has you feeling dizzy and enraptured in equal parts.

When he locks eyes with you over the rim of his own glass as he drains the last sip, you freeze, afraid that you’d been caught out–that he can read every dumbstruck expression on your face and knows exactly what he does to you.

But all he does is shoot you a little smile, announce that he’s going to bed– “Back to work for me, tomorrow”–and leaves you in the living room alone with Emma, trying not to look as though you’re checking out her dad’s butt as he leaves the room.

The next day, you and Emma spend most of the day at the Library of Congress while Marcus is at work. As a result, neither of you are too tired to help when Marcus suggests making the tamales tonight.

“I’m going to preface this by saying I’m not very good at making these,” he says with a laugh as he struggles with the dough. “My grandma only made these on special occasions, and I’ve done it myself approximately two times without her.”

“Well, the good news is that I’ve got no frame of reference,” you tell him. “So as long as they’re edible, they’ll be the best tamales I’ve ever had.”

Marcus chuckles and ducks his head; you can see the pink tinge on the tips of his ears as he continues to stir the mixture.

“Emmie, do you want to do the dough or the filling?” he asks.

“Filling.”

“That leaves you with the fun part,” Marcus says to you with a playful wink. “You get to spread the dough out on the corn husks like this–” he frowns as a glob of dough gets stuck to the spatula. “I told you I’m not very good at this. But you get the idea.”

You really don’t; cooking has never been your strong suit. You do your best to spread the dough out, but after just a couple of repetitions, your fingers, your shirt, and the counter around you are sticky with dough.

“This is not going very well,” you mumble.

Marcus looks up from the tamale he’s currently folding and laughs joyfully. “That’s part of the process.”

“I really don’t feel like it is,” you shoot back. “It’s sticking to everything but the corn husks.”

“Here,” Marcus chuckles. And suddenly, he’s right behind you, his chest nearly touching your back as he reaches around you to gently guide your hands himself. “Like this.”

You can’t possibly focus on your task, not when you have to remind your body to keep breathing while Marcus’s hands are on you. Your eyes stare unseeingly down at the corn husk until he releases you.

“Better?” he asks.

“Mmhm,” you hum, abnormally high-pitched.

“You’ve got some on your cheek,” he remarks with a soft smile. His thumb gently swipes across it, catching the stray dough and wiping it on a towel.

In the end, the tamales are hideous, but they taste incredible. They might be the best meal you’ve ever had–or maybe it’s just the way Marcus had smiled proudly at you when your technique improved after his intervention.

After dinner, the three of you sit on the small couch and watch a movie.

“It’s in black and white,” Emma remarks, wrinkling her nose.

“Double Indemnity? It’s a classic!” Marcus protests.

“Old movies are always so boring,” Emma says.

“It’s not boring,” he pouts. “The unhappy wife of a wealthy oil baron starts a dangerous, illicit love affair with an insurance salesman, and they hatch a plot to murder her husband and collect the insurance money.”

“That’s wild,” you laugh. “How have you seen this before?”

“I’ve always been told I’m an old soul.”

“Are you sure you’re not just old?” Emma teases.

“Hush. Watch the movie.”

The film is engaging, but all of the walking around of the past few days starts to catch up with you about halfway through. Before you know it, your eyes are drooping, and your head tips back on the couch cushion as you start to doze off. When you wake, the credits are rolling, and you’re no longer upright on the back of the couch.

You’re drooling on Marcus’s shoulder.

You startle, sitting back up with a frantic gasp and wiping your mouth in horror.

“Shh,” Marcus whispers, placing a calming hand on your forearm. “Emma fell asleep, too.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” you babble, taking in the little wet spot on his shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures softly. “You’re tired. You needed the sleep.”

“Still,” you say. “I didn’t mean to…” you trail off awkwardly.

“It’s okay,” Marcus repeats, even quieter still. His hand still rests on your forearm, his thumb subtly moving back and forth across your skin.

Neither of you speak for what seems like an eternity, until finally, he breaks the spell.

“Should go to bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll wake up Emma. Go get some rest.”

“Marcus,” you whisper shakily.

“Go,” he whispers back.

He squeezes your arm once, then releases you, and you reluctantly get up from the couch and cross to the guest bedroom door. You turn again, watching as Marcus gently smooths Emma’s hair back from her forehead as he rouses her from the couch. There’s so much tenderness in his eyes, and you wonder how much different he might be if Emma had been a more constant presence in his life. He seems so lonely–does he have friends outside of work, you wonder? Does he ever date?

Emma sits up blearily and pads across the living room, walking past you and collapsing on the bed. You take one last look at Marcus, and follow her.

The next morning, you feel as though you could cut the tension between you and Marcus with a knife. There’s something there–and you both know it. He seems to be doing his best to ignore it, avoiding eye contact with you, and busying himself with pouring a thermos of coffee and messing with his tie absentmindedly as he gets ready to leave for work.

“Where are you off to today?” he comments lightly.

“Smithsonian,” Emma answers.

“Sounds fun. I’ve got a deposition this afternoon that’s probably going to run late, so go ahead and grab something for dinner while you’re out. I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”

The only time Marcus’s eyes fall on you is in the moment just before he steps through the front door. He pauses, hand on the doorknob, and glances back in your direction, dark eyes watching you for a moment before he nods subtly and leaves.

It’s funny how just a simple, seconds-long moment of eye contact with this man can turn your insides to jelly. Your breath stutters as the door clicks shut, and you try to gather yourself again.

“What’s first?” Emma asks. “Natural History or Air and Space?”

You put Marcus out of your mind for most of the day, although he’s never far away; you’re able to call up the feel of his hand on your forearm at any given moment. You can imagine the burn of his eyes even as you walk through exhibit after exhibit.

True to his word, he’s not home for dinner. You and Emma grab sandwiches from a shop around the corner and eat them in the living room in front of the TV. It’s nearly seven when Marcus finally gets home, opening the door and greeting the two of you with a tired smile and a heavy sigh.

“How did it go?” Emma asks.

“Shit,” he answers, shooting her a crooked grin. “But I’ve got leftover tamales to look forward to, so the day is looking up.”

You watch another movie–Emma’s choice this time, and something a bit more current. You don’t fall asleep this time; you can’t, not with the way your body feels on high alert tonight. Marcus is sitting beside you again, as he was the night before, and all you can think about is how much you want to sink into his arms again–and this time, intentionally. You want to lay on his chest and have him wrap his arms around you; you want him to slowly turn and press you down on the cushions, to feel the weight of him on top of you, the light scrape of his beard on your neck, his breath in your ear.

A wave of arousal washes over you, heating your skin and sending a little trickle of damp into your underwear. You wonder if Marcus can feel it–feel the elevated warmth of your skin from where he’s sitting. You wonder if he can tell how much he affects you.

When the movie ends, you can barely meet his eyes as you bid him goodnight, following Emma to your room. You can’t turn around to see if he’s watching you; you can’t stand another glance at that deep, burning gaze of his.

Sleep evades you. You’re too hot, so you kick off the covers. Then you’re too cold, so you cover up again. You flip over the pillow, turn from your back to your stomach, and back again. The fantasy plays once more in your head: Marcus’s hand cradling the back of your neck as he kisses a path down your neck and to your chest. You want to feel the weight of him between your thighs, feel him pressing against your core. You’re dripping for him, and he doesn’t even know it.

No one has ever done this to you, but he has. And he hasn’t even touched you.

You wonder if he’d be bothered by the fact that you aren’t exactly sure what you’re doing in that department. You wonder if he’d be put off by your inexperience, or if he’d be happy to guide you in the act of pleasure.

You’ve had a couple of fumbling encounters, rushed, frenzied moments as a teenager with boys who haphazardly stuffed a finger or two into you, but it didn’t feel like anything to you. Not really. No one has ever made you cum–just you, in the safety of your own bed at night, your fingers seeking relief that no one else has been able to provide.

Could he give it to you?

Your past experiences have been with boys; and Marcus is a man.

Your legs shift, rubbing your thighs against each other as you try to find a more comfortable position.

You can’t find one.

Eventually, you give up–getting out of bed with a sigh. Maybe if you grab a drink of water and sit on the couch for a while, sleep will win out in the end. You pad into the kitchen, filling a cup in the sink and taking a few long sips. The cool water is a relief, so you run your hand underneath the water next and scrub it over your face. Finally sated, you set the cup down by the sink and turn.

To see Marcus sitting on the couch, dimly lit by the glow of his laptop screen.

You nearly double over with shock, the unexpected sight causing a spike of adrenaline to course through your body.

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “Couldn’t sleep, so I was… catching up on work.”

The mirror image of a popular news site reflects through the glass picture frame behind the couch, exposing the tiny lie.

“Yeah, me neither,” you admit quietly. “Thought I’d sit out here for a while and see if that helps, but… sorry, I’ll leave you to it.” You make to turn back, to retreat to the room again, but Marcus speaks softly behind you.

“Come sit,” he says. “I don’t mind.”

Breath caught somewhere in your throat, you hesitantly sink down on the couch beside him. Marcus closes his laptop and sets it down on the coffee table, and the silence stretches out between you.

“So, are you liking DC so far?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer eagerly. “I’m having a great time. I’ll… I’ll be sad to leave,” you admit. “Is that weird?”

“It’s weird if you’re talking about missing the Washington Monument,” Marcus teases. “Or the traffic.”

“I’m talking about the metro, obviously,” you joke. “The rest of the country could stand for some public transit options.”

“I’m not sure they should be taking their cues from DC,” he chuckles.

“Pssh, I like it.”

“The novelty wears off, believe me.”

You lapse into silence again. You’re sitting close enough to Marcus that you can feel the warmth from his skin, even though you aren’t touching. You want to sink into him, to have him envelop you, consume you.

You feel yourself unconsciously shifting closer to him.

Is it just your imagination, or did Marcus subtly lean closer to you?

The pull is inevitable; your eyes flick up to his, and you can almost feel the point of no return pass the two of you by.

You lick your lips, and his breath catches in his throat.

“I wasn’t talking about the metro,” you say breathlessly.

“I know.”

And suddenly, his lips are on yours.

It’s not fast, not rushed or frantic; he doesn’t surge forward to take you. It’s simply that the two of you are close enough that at one moment, Marcus Pike is not kissing you, and then the next moment, he is.

As with everything this man does, the kiss is soft and tender. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and he gently tits his head as his lips move against yours. His mouth opens ever so slightly, and you feel a wave of pure want rush through you at the light flick of his tongue against your lower lip.

You make a ragged sound in your chest as your lips part for him, and your tongues slide against each other for far too short of a time before Marcus pulls back, suddenly, his eyes full of worry.

“Oh, shit,” he murmurs. “Shit, we… we shouldn’t.”

This time, you kiss him back. The neck of his soft t-shirt crumples in your fist as you pull him closer, opening your mouth to him, and his protests die at the feel of your lips on his. Instead, it seems to light a fire within him; one hand curls around the back of your neck and the other grips your hip and you gasp softly into his mouth at the feel of his hands on your body.

Marcus breaks the kiss again, but instead of pulling back to give you more reasons why you can’t, this time he kisses a path across your cheek and down your neck. You’ve imagined the way his light beard would feel against your skin so many times over the last couple of days, but nothing compares to the reality of having him gently scrape his teeth against your neck as you arch your back to him.

“Fuck,” Marcus whispers. “So sweet, honey.”

You whimper at the term of endearment as Marcus gently starts to shift positions, turning and guiding you down onto the couch, just as you’d imagined.

Now that you’re horizontal, the kisses that started out tender and sweet start to grow more and more lascivious. You can feel the weight of him between your legs and his hot length pressing against you, his hips rocking slightly as he lazily explores you with his hands and his mouth.

One hand creeps up your inner thigh and slips under your thin sleep shorts and underwear, gently grazing your folds and feeling the obscene amount of slick that’s already gathered there.

“Shit,” Marcus hisses softly, reverently. “You’re so wet. How are you so wet?”

“You,” you answer earnestly, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He laughs breathlessly in response, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in your nipples peeking through the threadbare material of your tank top. His finger explores deeper, slipping inside your tight channel and immediately finding… something… that makes you gasp raggedly.

“So responsive,” he murmurs playfully. “I’ve barely touched you.” He starts to slowly pump his finger in and out, his thumb pressing on your clit as he rubs against that little spot inside of you every time, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and cling to him as this one little movement threatens to take you apart.

“Honey,” he whispers disbelievingly as he feels you start to tighten around him. “Already?”

“I–”

Whatever you had been about to say dies on your lips as you suddenly fall over the edge, shaking as the pleasure overtakes you. Marcus soothes you through it, whispering in your ear as you come down from your high.

“Wow,” you murmur. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”

Marcus pulls back and gives you a funny look. “What’s going on?” he asks, frowning slightly.

“Heh–you’re going to laugh,” you say, giving him an awkward grimace.

He raises his eyebrow, waiting for you to continue.

“I’ve–kind of never done this before,” you admit, pressing your lips together sheepishly.

“Oh shit,” Marcus breathes, sitting up fully as his eyes frantically sweep over you. “Oh, honey–no. I can’t–we can’t do this.”

“Why?” you ask, wincing internally at how whiny it comes out.

“It can’t–it shouldn’t be me,” he says softly. “That’s more than I deserve to take.”

“You’re not taking anything,” you protest. “I–I want it to be you.”

Marcus shakes his head again, but you can see the cracks in his resolve, the way his eyes are searching you, devouring you with his gaze.

“I don’t want it to be some boy at a frat party back home,” you tell him. “I want you. I want it to feel good. Please?”

Marcus’s expression is inscrutable as his eyes rake over your form, disheveled and sated, underneath him. Your heart sinks when he stands up, shame sinking down into the pit of your stomach, but then he extends his hand to you, and you look up at him, questioning.

“I’m not going to let your first time be a quick fuck on my couch,” he says quietly and resolute. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to bed.”

Wordlessly, you accept his hand and allow him to pull you to your feet. You wobble slightly, still shaky from the orgasm, and Marcus draws you into his side, steadying you. He guides you forward, keeping you close as the two of you walk to his bedroom.

Despite the fact that you were more than ready to let this man take you right there on the couch, the change in venue has your heart hammering in your chest. Now, it feels real. It feels intentional.

“C’mere, beautiful,” Marcus murmurs when he feels your steps falter. His hand slides up your arm and across your shoulder until it curls gently around your neck, causing goosebumps to rise to the surface of your skin. He presses a couple of soft, chaste kisses across your opposite shoulder, and your lips part of their own accord.

“I need you to tell me if you don’t want to do this,” he says softly in your ear.

“I want–”

“I know, I know,” Marcus interrupts. “I want you to tell me if that changes.”

He gently guides you onto his bed, one hand on the small of your back to keep you from going too fast.

“I wanna know what you like,” he murmurs as he hovers over you again, his hand coming up underneath the thin material of your top. “I wanna know what you don’t like.”

“I–I don’t really know–”

“I know,” Marcus grins wolfishly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “That’s the idea.”

He starts to push the material of your shirt up, up, up, until your nipples are pebbling in the cool air of his bedroom. He gently pulls it over your head and casts it aside, looking down at you with undisguised hunger. He trails the backs of his fingers down the side of one breast and underneath. “I get to find out what you like,” he says. He circles one areola with the tip of his finger, making you shiver. “And I get to be the first to do it.”

He gently drags the pad of his finger across the little bud of your nipple, and you gasp for him as if you’d hit a live wire.

“I’m gonna take a guess and say you liked that,” he teases.

“Marcus,” you whine.

“Shh,” he whispers again, just before his mouth engulfs your nipple. Your hand darts out unconsciously, tangling in the hair on the back of Marcus’s neck as you squirm under his hot tongue. You can’t tell whether you want to pull away or push toward him, but in reality all you do is whine and take what he gives you. He switches to the other one; lathing and flicking his tongue and pressing down until you whimper.

“So… fucking… responsive,” Marcus murmurs in between kisses as he starts to mouth his way down your belly to the band of your sleep shorts. His fingers dip underneath, poised to pull them down over your hips, but he waits–eyes flicking up to yours to gauge your reaction.

“Can I taste you?” he asks quietly.

“I-If you want,” you laugh shakily.

“If I want?” he parrots disbelievingly. “You’re saying that like it’s not a given–like I haven’t been thinking of burying my tongue in that sweet little pussy all night. If I want,” he chuckles to himself again, slowly dragging your shorts and underwear down your legs. “I need to taste you. I need to feel you fall apart on my tongue. The first one was kind of a surprise, and all I want is to feel you shaking again.”

You’re bare before him, but you don’t have any time to be self-conscious, because Marcus is laying back down on the bed, his face inches away from your pussy. He gently guides your legs over his shoulders before lowering his mouth to you.

You aren’t sure who groans louder at the first touch of his tongue through your folds.

Marcus makes a pained noise in his throat before murmuring, “So sweet, honey–fuck, you’re so sweet.”

His tongue is delicate, but precise; he flicks it back and forth against your clit, then dips down to lap at your entrance until you’re trembling for him. He’s tireless and patient, cataloging every whimper and moan he pulls from you as the pleasure slowly builds inside of you. In no time at all, you’re dangling on the precipice, your hips locking into place as you start to reach the point of no return.

“I–I–” you stammer, trying to warn him.

Marcus hums enthusiastically in agreement, concentrating his efforts on your clit until you fall apart with a gasp.

He groans again, licking you through each little aftershock of pleasure until you’re boneless.

“You squeeze me so hard,” he croons. “Can you feel that? You’re so tight around my tongue.”

“Shit…” you murmur. You’re too fucked-out to say anything else.

“Gonna have to open you up a bit with my fingers,” he says softly. “So I don’t hurt you.”

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes. He’s still clothed–wearing sweatpants and a shirt, while you’re completely naked, and you frown slightly at the disparity.

“Everything okay?” Marcus asks, seeing your expression.

“Can–Can I see you? You’re so… clothed,” you say with a little pout.

He laughs, smiling widely so that the corners of his eyes crinkle, and your heart soars.

“Of course,” he agrees, stripping off his shirt. “Of course.”

You raise up on one elbow, gazing up at Marcus’s broad chest, the light smattering of hair, and the soft swell of his belly. You can’t help but reach up and touch him, pressing your palm to his sternum and trailing down, tracing the little path of hair until it disappears under the band of his sweatpants. Your fingers curl underneath the band, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“These, too?” he asks with a teasing chuckle, smiling wider when you nod eagerly.

His cock bobs free as he pushes his pants down his hips, and your eyes widen at the sight of him, thick and hard and heavy with want. Curiously, you wrap your hand around him, and you’re rewarded with a little ‘hnnngg’ of pleasure and surprise as you touch him.

You gently trace the little ridges on his shaft, traveling up to the flushed, purple head, where the skin is even softer, and back down again.

“F-Fuck,” Marcus muttters. “Can’t do that too much, honey, or I’m gonna lose it before we even get started.”

“I like it,” you say with a little giggle. “I never realized they were so… soft.”

Marcus makes a broken, choked sound. “Jesus. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

He falls onto one elbow, giving you a messy, passionate kiss before sucking his fingers into his mouth and gently sinking one finger into you again. His lips stay close to yours, noses almost touching, his eyes watching your face intently as he slowly opens you up. His fingers are so thick, and just like before, he seems to know exactly where to press up inside you to make the pleasure spark inside of you. He adds a second finger, and you whimper–you're already so full.

"Little bit more," Marcus murmurs. "Doing so well for me–fuck–so tight."

He gently starts to slide a third into you, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit to offer some relief.

“Is it greedy if I say I want you to cum for me again?” he asks softly. “I want to feel it again. Can you do that for me?”

You nod dazedly–wanting to do anything, everything this man asks as long as he keeps making you feel like this.

His fingers press up against your walls again, and you sob loudly into the room.

Marcus immediately muffles the sound with a kiss, swallowing your whimpers and cries in an attempt to keep the sound from carrying across the apartment.

“Gotta stay quiet for me,” he whispers against your lips.

“S-Sorry.”

“No, shh, don’t be sorry,” he murmurs. “I wish you could be loud. Wish I could make you scream for me. Just–fuck, honey, you’re right there, aren’t you? I can feel you squeezing me–fuck, you get so wet. Give me one more. One more, and I’ll give you my cock. That’s it, that’s–yes–”

Marcus breaks off on a groan as you clamp down on his fingers. It’s so much, you’re so full, and you buck against his hand, your lower back rising up off of the bed as he pulls it from you.

You slump back down, breathing heavily, as he carefully withdraws his fingers.

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying to get your attention. “Hey, I should have asked this sooner, but–are you on birth control? Do you want me to use a condom?”

“I-I’m on the pill,” you tell him. “If you… you know, if you didn’t want to. That would be–I’d like that.”

“That’s perfect,” he whispers, giving you a tender kiss. “I’d like that, too.” He pauses, and mutters a soft curse under his breath. “I wish I had some lube,” he remarks. “Just to be sure I don’t hurt you.”

You watch as he spits on his cock and takes himself in hand.

“This will have to do, though,” he says as he slicks it over his cock and crawls over you. “And I’ll just go slow.”

He cups the back of your neck with one hand as he lines himself up with the other. His lips are inches from yours, but he doesn’t lean down to kiss you–no, he seems to want to watch your reaction as the tip of his cock notches at your entrance.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers again.

“You could never hurt me,” you say confidently, and you watch as his lips part in surprise. “Marcus–” you add, as you shift your hips impatiently. “–just do it.”

Your eyes widen as you feel him push into you, his girth splitting you open. It can’t be much bigger than three of his thick fingers, but still, it just feels like more. It’s longer, certainly; he keeps pushing in, and even when you’re sure he’s reached the end, there’s still more.

“Oh wow,” you hear yourself murmuring again and again. “Oh, Marcus.”

“I know,” he returns, kissing your cheekbone, your forehead, your nose, and then finally, your lips. “I know, honey.”

He starts to rock his hips, slowly undulating them, letting his cock drag back and forth against your walls. It feels incredible–you never imagined how fucking good this would feel–and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s because it’s him. It’s Marcus–a man you’ve admittedly only known for a few days, but you feel as though you know him already–and you trust him completely.

“Does it hurt at all?” he rumbles softly in your ear.

“No,” you answer emphatically. “It feels–holy shit.”

Marcus laughs breathlessly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can–can we do this again?”

He chuckles. “We’re currently doing this.”

“I already want it again.”

He starts to go a little harder, his thrusts a little deeper. His hand grips your hip for leverage, the other still cradling the back of your neck. He kisses you, a deep, messy, passionate thing, before burying his face in the crook of your neck and sucking a gentle mark into your skin.

“Feels so good,” he murmurs. “I’m not gonna last, not when you feel like this.”

“Like how?” you ask, smiling widely.

“So fucking tight,” Marcus groans. “And wet, and hot, and–” he brings his thumb to your clit and starts to rub little circles around it. “I need you to cum again,” he says. “Fuck, you–you feel too good, honey, I’m not gonna last.”

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you murmur.

“Please,” he says, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Please, baby, you’ve gotta do this one last thing for me. Let me feel it, let me make you feel good. Let me–let me–”

Your mouth falls open as you feel it wash over you. This is better than anything you’ve ever felt before, any relief you’ve been able to seek with your fingers–the drag of his cock along your walls only serves to prolong your pleasure, making each little aftershock feel like a new wave of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck,” Marcus groans. “Fuck.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck as he shoves his hips into you one more time, emptying himself within you with a deep groan.

The aftermath is quiet. After gently, tenderly cleaning you up with a damp cloth, Marcus collapses on the pillows and pulls you to him, wrapping his arms around you as you settle with your head resting on his shoulder.

“Was this a bad idea?” you ask quietly as you trace little shapes on his chest.

Marcus huffs a laugh. “Probably,” he answers.

“I don’t care,” you say resolutely, causing his hold on you to tighten. “...Do you regret it?” you ask, feeling unsure of yourself again.

“No,” Marcus says immediately. “No. I was drawn to you from the beginning. I’m sorry, I–I should have tried harder to prevent this, but…”

“I felt it, too,” you murmur. “Maybe we weren’t meant to prevent it.”

The two of you bask in the afterglow, reveling in the feel of your bodies pressed together. You can’t help but think of how tender, how loving he is–not just with you, but with Emma.

“Can I ask a personal question?” you ask, breaking the silence.

Marcus shrugs. “Sure.”

“This is probably weird to be thinking about right now, but… why does Emma’s mom not want you around?”

Marcus sighs, his lips pressing into your forehead–not really a kiss, just a caress of your hairline with his mouth.

“That story doesn’t exactly paint me in the best light.”

“I want to know. I just… don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” he asks.

“You’re… you’re such a good dad–a good man. I don’t understand how her mom wanted nothing to do with you. I just don’t get it.”

Marcus nods, pressing his lips together. “I wasn’t always a good man,” he says quietly. “I tried to do the best I could for the both of them–for Emma and her mom–but I’m afraid I fell very short, in the beginning.”

“What happened?”

“We were in college when we found out she was pregnant,” Marcus says with a sigh. “She was nineteen, I was almost twenty-one. We hadn’t been together long; maybe a couple of months. She was terrified, of course–and so was I, but never told her that. I asked her to marry me because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Did you love her?”

“I cared for her, very much so. And even if we weren’t quite right for each other, knowing–” Marcus swallows thickly, “–knowing our child, my child, was growing inside of her made me feel deeply connected. If you had asked me at twenty-one, I would have sworn up and down that I was in love.”

“But not now?”

Marcus huffs softly. “I know a little better, now.”

“What happened?” you ask, tracing the line of his collarbone with the tip of your finger. “What did you do?”

“Well, the first thing I did was drop out of art school,” he says with a little laugh. “Didn’t think it would pay the bills, especially not with a wife and a baby.”

“You were an artist?” you ask, surprised.

“Wanted to be,” he chuckled. “At least at that time. So instead, I applied for the FBI. Joined the Art Crimes division. And shortly after I completed training… Emma was born.” His eyes are far away, a small smile on his face as he remembers. “And she was perfect. And I remember thinking, all the struggling, all the hardship, all the times Denise and I didn’t get along… it would be worth it, in the end. No matter what happened; because I had her.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “What went wrong?”

“Nothing in particular, at first. We struggled to make ends meet. We were two young parents with no idea what we were doing, and even though I might have known deep down that we weren’t right for each other, I just wanted it to go right. I wanted us to be happy, but in the end we were just too different. We didn’t work–and while I might have been blind to it at the time, Denise wasn’t. When Emma was barely even two, she filed for divorce, and I–” he sighs heavily again. “I went a little off the rails.”

You tilt your head and look up at Marcus. His eyes are stormy, and you can see the remorse etched into the lines of his face. You don’t ask how, you just wait patiently for him to continue.

“I didn’t want to be divorced at twenty-three. This wasn’t–it wasn’t the life I had expected for myself, not what I would have chosen, but because I had Emma, I didn’t want anything else. I always knew I would want a family, and so what if it happened… a little out of order?”

“What did you do?” you whispered.

“I tried to convince her to change her mind. She took Emma and went to live with her parents, and I’d call them every day, asking to talk to her. I wanted to persuade her–I thought that if she could just see that we had plenty of time, we could raise Emma and be good parents and still… still have time for whatever we wanted. That we could still build lives.

“When she never returned my calls, I started stopping by,” he confesses, his voice even quieter. “They’d always tell me she was out, so I started showing up at odd hours, trying to… trying to just catch her one time–I thought if I explained that she could do whatever she wanted, as long as we could just stay together and raise Emma, she’d agree. But the more I tried to contact her, the more she pulled away, and rightly so, honestly. I was badgering her. I tried to justify it at the time, said I was doing it all for Emma, but I, uh… It took me until much later to admit I was actually doing it for me. I was so scared of being a failure, and scared to be alone.

“Anyway, the court didn’t look very kindly on what looked to everyone involved like stalking behavior, and Denise was afforded full custody.”

“M-Marcus,” you murmur, unable to help the water gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“Broke my heart,” he whispers, his voice full of emotion. “And I was angry about it for a while, but when it comes down to it, I was just angry with myself. It was my actions that lost me my daughter, and… well, I’ve had twenty years to come to terms with that, now.”

“How did you finally… come to face all of that?” you ask quietly.

“Therapy,” Marcus says with a genuine laugh. “And that is another story for another time.”

“God, what else happened to you?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles, “just another relationship that I fought way too hard for.” He playfully runs his finger down the bridge of your nose before tilting your chin upward for a soft kiss. “And you,” he murmurs, “need to go back to bed.”

Your emotions still running on high alert after Marcus’s emotional confession of his past, you surge forward and throw your arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“I’m okay,” he promises. “It was a long time ago.”

“You should tell Emma,” you say softly. “She never knew why her mom didn’t want you around.”

“Not really something you want to tell your daughter,” he says with a sad smile. “That you basically stalked her mom.”

“She’s grown up. She’s older than her mom was when–”

“Believe me, I know,” Marcus groans. “Don’t remind me; it makes this feel very… wrong.” He gestured between the two of you.

“Just trust me,” you murmur. “She’d want to know.” With herculean effort, you extricate yourself from his arms, grab your clothes, and redress. Feeling unsure in the way the conversation ended, you tell yourself not to turn around again when your hand lands on the doorknob.

“Honey,” Marcus calls out softly from the bed. “Good night.”

“Good night,” you whisper back, and then you’re gone.

“Where are you two off to, today?” Marcus asks conversationally over coffee. He’s made it stronger than usual today, and it makes warmth pool deep in your stomach at the reminder of your very sleepless night last night. You’re grateful for the extra boost of caffeine as well, of course–the morning seemed to come far too early after being up half of the night. Sleep had still been hard to come by when you finally returned to the guest room, after all; the conversation about Marcus’s past was still swirling around in your head, and every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel his hands on you.

You never knew it could feel like this, never knew how good it could be with someone who really knew what they were doing. Someone so giving, so gentle and yet so ruthless in pursuing your pleasure. Someone brimming with passion, capable of both the softest prase and the most depraved filth in the same sentence.

If you had thought your thirst would be sated after finally getting what you’d fantasized about and more, you were a fool. The flame burns hotter than ever this morning, and the sight of Marcus in a suit with not a hair out of place only makes you think about how he had looked between your legs last night–that devilish smirk as he teased about wanting to taste you.

You wonder if you’ll ever see him that way again, or if last night was a fluke.

Had he noticed when your fingers had trembled around the coffee cup he handed you?

He had given you a soft, tender stare when you had first entered the kitchen, but that’s the only evidence you can find so far that Marcus is even half as affected as you feel. You can still feel him this morning, a subtle ache between your legs when you sit down, and you wish you could see some outward sign on him that this actually happened.

“Not really sure,” Emma answers Marcus’s question. “Kind of ran out of stuff to see.”

“Impossible,” Marcus chuckles. “Well, you can hang out here if you want, or if you're really looking for a distraction, you can come to the office with me.”

“The fucking FBI office?” Emma asks. “Are we allowed?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you be?” Marcus shrugs. “Plus, I might be able to set up some time for you to talk to someone in Legal,” he says to you. “Are you still interested in that?”

“Oh wow,” you breathe. “Really?”

“‘Course,” he replies. “I said I would.”

You nod, smiling up at him beatifically. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Perfect,” he grins. “Well, if you’re coming, we’re going to need to leave soon. Are you almost ready?”

“I’m ready,” Emma announces, shouldering her bag.

“Yeah, me too.”

Marcus winks at you, and you try not to let yourself react to it.

“Let’s go, then.”

You had assumed that you’d spend most of your day at the FBI holed up in Marcus’s office, doing nothing. You had imagined that, out of necessity, you’d be barred from attending any meetings or hearing about his department’s day-to-day activities, but when you arrive, his team seems enthusiastic to have you and Emma there. Much to your surprise, they even let the two of you sit in the back of the room while Marcus conducts a briefing.

You listen, enthralled, as he discusses a recent forgery case that the team is working on. His demeanor, as it is at home, is good-natured and easygoing. He’s easy to smile, and engaging when he talks, and as a result, he utterly commands the room. His style of quiet, unassuming authority has you subtly squirming in your chair. Even though you have no idea what’s being discussed, you can tell simply by listening to his cadence of speech that he’s incredibly knowledgeable, and fucking good at his job. It’s clear he loves the work–and when you think back to the night before and his whispered confession that he had once dreamed of being an artist, you find yourself beaming with happiness that he’s clearly found something he loves to do.

“People change.”

You suddenly recall his words the very first night you were there–his assurance that it didn’t matter that you had no idea what you wanted to do at your age, because there’s no promise that you’ll still want the same things in ten years. After last night, you realize that he was talking about himself in that moment.

You hope he’s happy and fulfilled.

He deserves it.

You watch him wrap up the meeting–delegating work to each member of the team and asking for updates–and every so often, as his eyes sweep around the room, they always seem to land on you.

As he promised, Marcus introduces you to Kimberley Alexander, the lawyer that his department works with most of the time. You’re nervous at first–you aren’t sure what you’re going to talk about, but you end up staying in her office through lunch, spending almost an hour and a half longer than you had intended, talking about potential jobs with the FBI.

Not because you suddenly have the desire to return to Washington, DC as soon as you can, nope. It does interest you–quite a bit, actually–but you can’t pretend that you aren’t excited at the prospect of living in the same city as Marcus. Would he want to see you again? Is he really interested in you, or is it just the forced proximity–because you’re convenient and available? If you had your own life here, would he be interested in a place in it?

When you find Emma and her dad again, they’ve clearly just come back from lunch. Emma thrusts a container into your hands, which you discover, with an exaggerated moan of satisfaction, is pad Thai.

“Must have been a good talk,” Marcus remarks.

“Yeah, you were there for two hours,” Emma adds.

“It was good,” you nod. “Talked about, y’know, internships and stuff.”

“You wanna live here?” Emma asks, looking surprised and curious.

You try to shrug noncommittally. “Sure,” you say lightly. “It’s as good a place as any, and it would be kind of fun to work for the FBI, right?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you an unbiased answer to that,” Marcus says with a wry smile, “but I think you’d be a great fit.”

Your heart swells at his words. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” he says earnestly. “And I hate to do this, but I’ve gotta run to do a witness interview, and you guys have to stay behind this time.”

You watch as Marcus gives Emma a quick kiss on the forehead, and your eyebrows raise in surprise at the action. They’ve gotten more comfortable around each other in the time you’ve been here, but neither of them had seemed to be very comfortable with physical affection. Marcus, for his part, is always so hesitant–wanting to reach out, but seemingly afraid that he doesn’t deserve it, or worse, that it won’t be received well. You still remember the first day you saw him–when his hand twitched toward his daughter, seemingly desperate to wrap her in a hug, but he hadn’t allowed himself to do it.

What changed?

Marcus glances at you, and gives you a slightly awkward, stiff nod before leaving for his meeting.

You busy yourself with eating lunch, digging into the container they brought you.

“Tomorrow’s the last day, huh?” Emma says conversationally.

You gulp. You’ve purposefully been putting the fact that your time here has an expiration date at the back corner of your mind. Whatever you have with Marcus, it’s temporary by its very nature, and you know it.

You just don’t really want to think about it right now.

“Yup,” you agree, mouth full of noodles.

“What do you wanna do? I’m kind of out of ideas.”

You shrug. “We could ask Marcus if there’s anything he recommends seeing that we haven’t already been to.”

“I think we should go as far out as the metro line goes,” Emma says.

“Why?”

She shrugs. “See where we end up.”

“Whatever you want,” you tell her. “Last day is up to you.”

“How’s the pad Thai?”

“Good,” you nod, mouth full. “What’d you get?”

“Calamari,” she answers. “Never had it, wanted to try it.”

“How was it?”

“Chewy.”

You laugh, taking another bite of noodles. “Think I’ll stick to my favorite.”

The two of you huddle together on the small, two-seater couch in Marcus’s office, watching YouTube videos and laughing together until he comes back near the end of the day.

Your eyes automatically brighten when you see him return, drinking in the sight of him–the crisp lines of his suit paired with the slightly unruly hair. You discovered last night how soft it is, and how much he loves it when you thread your fingers through it and tug gently.

He meets your eyes, but quickly drops his gaze, and you try not to sink in disappointment. Did it not mean as much to him as it did to you? Or is he just better at hiding it?

“You two hungry for dinner?” he asks, putting his stuff back in his messenger back and throwing it over his shoulder.

Emma groans loudly beside you. “Gonna be honest, I’m not really feeling dinner.”

“That was a lot of pad Thai,” you agree.

“Good,” Marcus says with a smile. “Me neither. Let’s go home and have a lazy night eating popcorn on the couch.”

The moment you arrive home, though, Emma makes a beeline for the bathroom.

“She okay?” Marcus asks you.

You grimace at the faint sounds of retching. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

When she emerges again, Marcus hands her a glass of water with a concerned expression. “Everything okay?”

“No,” she mutters pitifully.

“Was it the calamari?” you ask.

“Please don’t say that word ever again,” Emma groans, flopping down on the couch. “Fuck. Everything hurts.”

“What do you need?” Marcus asks, looking a little lost.

“Distraction,” she mumbles. “Long movie or something.”

Emma takes up the entire couch, so you and Marcus have to sit in opposite armchairs while you watch Lord of the Rings. It’s almost unbearable to you, being so close to him and yet not being able to touch, not being able to look at him for fear of giving everything away. If you two were to lock eyes, you know that you wouldn’t be able to hide your reaction to him. So much so that even Emma, who’s still alternating between running to the bathroom and collapsing on the couch, would have no choice but to notice.

The pull to him feels overwhelming; the only thing you can think of doing is crossing the living room and sinking into his arms. It makes you feel guilty–your best friend has food poisoning, Marucs is trying to help by refilling her water and encouraging her to drink, and here you are, with nothing to do but yearn for your best friend’s dad.

When the movie is over, it’s late; Marcus brushes Emma’s hair back from her forehead and suggests she go lie down. As she’s stumbling toward the guest room, Marcus touches you for the first time since last night–lightly wrapping his fingers around your wrist while Emma isn’t looking.

Your eyes meet, and he gives you a coal-black stare, trying to communicate without speaking. He nods subtly, and his meaning is easy to understand.

Come to me tonight.

You come to him in the dead of night. You lie awake, listening for Emma’s breathing to even out, and then waiting another thirty minutes after that, just to be safe.

It’s nearly midnight when you slip into Marcus’s bedroom, but he’s still awake; his lamp is on, and he’s reading a book.

Waiting for you.

The moment the door creaks open, Marcus casts the book aside without even marking his place, and rises to his feet. He strides forward and you meet him in the middle, a clash of mouths and hands as you come together desperately.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your lips. “All fucking day, all I could think about was this.”

“Me too,” you mumble hastily in between kisses.

“No idea how hard it was to concentrate on giving that meeting this morning,” he confesses, “with you in the corner looking at me with those eyes of yours.”

He grabs your top and pulls it over your head in one swift motion and ducks down to lathe his tongue against your nipple, making you arch against him.

“Ah!–Really?” you gasp. “I didn’t–you looked so… calm the whole day. Like it didn’t affect you the same way it affects me.”

“Doesn’t affect me?” Marcus repeats incredulously. “Honey, I am out of my mind with wanting you.” He pulls back, his palms cradling your cheeks as he stares at you with a disbelieving smile. “Do you not have any idea what you do to me?” he asks softly.

Stunned, you shake your head.

Marcus laughs breathlessly, as he reaches down to encircle your wrist with one large hand and brings your hand forward to press against the front of his pants, where you can feel him, hard and straining against the fabric. “You feel that?” he rasps. “Do you fucking feel what you do to me?”

He shoves your flimsy sleep shorts down your legs and all but tosses you onto the bed. He strips off his own shirt and follows you down. “I’ve been half-hard all day,” he confesses. “I had to fuck my own hand in the shower this morning and still,” he groans. “As soon as I picture your face as you fall apart for me, I’m done for.”

“You thought about that?”

“All fucking day,” Marcus promises.

“That all you thought about?” you ask, your voice turning coy as you gain more confidence.

He chuckles darkly. “Thought about a lot of things,” he murmurs.

“Such as…?”

“Just–all the ways I want to have you.”

“Show me,” you demand.

Marcus chuckles again. “Show you what, pretty girl?”

“All the ways that you want me.”

“That would take a lot more time than we currently have,” he says wryly.

“Then show me how you want me most,” you say.

“Let me get you ready first,” Marcus murmurs, starting to kiss a path down your body, intent on his destination.

“No.”

“Hmm?”

“I want it now,” you say frankly.

“Honey–” he protests softly.

“Consider the fact that I’ve done nothing but think about what happened last night and fantasize about what’s going to happen tonight foreplay,” you tell him. “I can’t–I can’t wait. I don’t want it to be slow. I need–I need—” you trail off, searching for how exactly to find the words for what it is that you need.

Marcus nods slowly, his eyes darkening as he watches you plead for him to take you now.

“You really want me to show you?” he asks quietly.

You nod.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, honey.”

You comply with a shiver, your heart in your throat as you turn around and put yourself on display for him.

Marcus mutters a soft curse behind you as his palm strokes up the skin on the back of your thigh and up over the swell of your cheek.

You hear him spit in his hand, and you know he's coating himself in it behind you, easing his way in. He does it again, and this time you whimper softly as he cups you, transferring more wetness to your folds.

"Already so wet," he teases softly. "Tell me if it's too much."

He slides forward, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, and your elbows nearly buckle at the overwhelming feel of it.

Marcus doesn't wait for you to adjust, this time. He starts thrusting right away, his hands grasping your hips for leverage. He's pressing right on the spot that makes pleasure sing throughout your entire body. Once he's sure that his pace isn't too much for you, he starts giving it to you harder, snapping his hips into you over and over.

Last night was overwhelming in its own way, but this–this is devastating. You thought last night was the most pleasure you could ever feel, but you had no idea that this could wreck you so completely.

You're crying out with every thrust, each punishing snap of his hips punching little pathetic noises past your lips as you take what he needs to give you.

"Shhh," he reminds you. "Gotta stay quiet, honey."

You drop to your elbows, burying your face in the pillows to try and muffle the involuntary sounds, but you can tell it isn't enough.

"M-Marcus," you whimper frantically. "I can't."

"Do you want to stop?" he asks (making you shake your head rapidly), "Or do you want me to help you be quiet?"

You nod frantically, although you have no idea what he means. You'd do anything to keep feeling his cock like this.

Marcus’s hand wraps tightly around your mouth, quieting your cries and forcing you to breathe through your nose. Something about the action makes your pussy clench violently, and Marcus makes a quiet groan of pleasure above you.

He fucks you harder and faster, one hand sliding underneath you to rub tight circles over your clit.

"Cum for me," he rasps brokenly above you. “Fuck, please–”

The soft plea is enough to end you. You wail into Marcus’s hand as you come undone, and he tightens his grip, muffling the sound.

It doesn’t take long for him to follow–just a couple more minutes of brutal thrusts that have you whimpering into his hand, oversensitive from your orgasm. The minute he stills, his cock slips from you as he immediately collapses on the bed and pulls you into his arms. You’re both still breathing heavily, but he smooths the hair back from your forehead as he looks you over.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. “That was a lot, I’m sorry.”

“‘Re you kidding?” you slur. “That was… amazing.”

Marcus laughs and pulls you close again. “I’m glad,” he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his words.

“Can I stay here for a little longer?” you ask. “Just a little.”

Marcus pulls back again and looks down at you with an amused smile. “It’s cute that you think I’m done with you, honey.”

Your eyes widen. “You’re not?”

“Mm-mm. Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the way you look when you come undone,” he murmurs, tracing the tip of his index finger down the side of your cheek. “You didn’t think I’d be satisfied with just once tonight, did you?”

You giggle. “I guess not.”

He fixes you with a fiery look. “Do you trust me?” he asks quietly.

“...Yeah?”

He raises one eyebrow.

“Yes,” you answer, with more conviction this time. “Yes, I trust you.”

Marcus kisses you tenderly before sitting back on his heels beside you. His fingertips trail down your chest, over the peaks of your nipples, and down your stomach, as though he can’t get enough of the feel of your skin. One hand travels further down, stroking the soft patch of hair on your pubic bone before he slips one finger gently inside you.

You cringe slightly at the wet squelch of your combined release, but Marcus shushes you gently. “Love how wet you get,” he teases affectionately. “And I like knowing I’m there inside of you.”

You clench involuntarily at his words, your lips parting as you exhale shakily.

He chuckles. “You like that? You like knowing that I get off on the idea of you carrying a little piece of me with you?” he asks, as he starts to slowly fuck you with one finger.

“What if I told you that I was thinking about it during that meeting this morning?” he continues. “I kept wondering if there was still a little in there from last night, leaking into your underwear as I talked.”

“Shit,” you mumble. “Marcus.”

“Wanna fill you up again tonight,” he remarks casually. “So it’s still there when you’re walking around tomorrow.” He groans softly. “Fuck–Can I–Can I give you my number? I–I want you to text me. Tell me you can still feel me.”

“Oh my god,” you murmur. “Yes.”

“Good.” He adds a second finger and presses the heel of his hand against your clit, working you up to another orgasm exactly how he now knows gets you off quickly. When you start to clench around him, though, he doesn’t stop. He starts to rub quickly back and forth on that little spot inside of you until something else starts to build.

“M-Marcus,” you murmur. “W-Wait, I–something is–”

“Shhh.” He keeps going, rubbing harder and faster until he suddenly rips his fingers from you as you gush around them, soaking his hand and the bed.

“Oh! Shit,” you cry out, panicking. “What the f–”

“Fuck, yes,” Marcus groans, the sound coming deep from within his chest. “Oh, fuck, do that again.”

When he notices your expression of utter shock, though, he pauses, a slow smile of understanding spreading across his face.

“Honey,” he says soothingly. “Was that the first time?”

You stare up at him, mouth hanging open. “I… I kind of always thought that was a myth,” you admit, ducking your head in embarrassment.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes softly. “No, it’s definitely not.”

He lays down beside you again, gently tucking a wisp of stray hair behind one ear. “That was so good,” he praises softly. “So good to me.”

You smile shakily, but something is starting to nag at you.

“What’s wrong?” Marcus asks, noticing your hesitant expression.

“I just… feel really inexperienced,” you admit quietly. “You know all this stuff, and I–it must be tedious, having someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, or–”

“No,” Marcus interrupts, his voice full of sincerity. “It’s not tedious at all. On the contrary,” he says with a little laugh, “the fact that I get to show you… that I’m the only one who can get you to do something you didn’t even know you could do–Well, shit,” he says with a crooked grin. He reaches down and palms his cock, which is hard and weeping again. “Look at what it does to me, huh?”

“Does that mean you’ll fuck me again?” you ask eagerly.

Marcus chuckles at your enthusiasm. “I did say I was going to fill you up one more time, didn’t I?”

When you wake up (in your bed, next to Emma, after sneaking back into your own room after Marcus was finally finished with you in the wee hours of the morning), your travel companion is decidedly not ready to go.

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a train,” she grumbles. “And my stomach is still in fucking knots.”

“We can just stay around the house,” you offer.

“I don’t want you to lay around being bored just because of me,” she protests, flopping down on the couch with a groan.

“Not feeling any better?” Marcus asks, coming into the living room.

“No,” Emma pouts. “I’m gonna stay here and rest.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks, looking over at you.

You shrug. “I don’t really know. Stay here too, probably.”

“How about this,” Marcus says carefully. “I’m supposed to be going to the National Gallery of Art today to give a little talk about forgery detection. If you wanted to come, we could… walk around the museum a bit, afterward?”

You try to keep your face neutral at the prospect of spending a day with Marcus. Alone.

“Sure,” you say, hoping it sounds nonchalant. “Could be fun.”

“Great,” he says lightly. “It’s a d–it’s a plan.”

It’s a date.

You’re giddy as you wave goodbye to Emma–who’s watching daytime TV and holding a bottle of Gatorade–and follow Marcus out of the door.

As soon as the door shuts, he rounds on you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you soundly. “So glad you said yes,” he says breathlessly.

“Why wouldn’t I say yes to that?” you tease. “Spending the day with you.”

“I don’t know,” Marcus murmurs playfully, capturing your lips again. “Good question.”

“Is this a date?” you ask coyly.

He pauses, lips parting in surprise. “Do you want it to be?”

Taking a big leap of faith, you nod.

Marcus’s expression softens, and he threads your fingers together. “Then it’s a date.”

After his talk–which you listen to with eager eyes and rapt attention–the two of you stroll slowly through the galleries, talking. Marcus occasionally stops, taking in the artwork, and tells you little tidbits of information about each piece. He seems to be using the quiet setting as an excuse to keep you as close as possible; his arm wraps around your waist as he leans down and talks quietly in your ear, making goosebumps rise on the back of your neck whenever he speaks. He seems to know the effect on you–you had no idea art could be described so sensually.

You lose the afternoon to each other; having lunch in a small cafe and then walking down the National Mall, hand in hand.

You pick up a sandwich for Emma, just in case she’s feeling better, on your way home. As you get closer and closer, every step starts to feel heavier and heavier. You never want this to end.

Just before you arrive at his building, Marcus stops and spins you around, cupping your cheek and pulling you to him for a soft kiss.

“Today was–” he starts, but breaks off, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you agree.

“Listen, I don’t–I don’t know what your plans are after you leave tomorrow, but–”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

You’re both dancing around something big–both of you afraid to say what you really mean, and you know it, but you can’t bring yourself to take the leap.

You had been hoping that Marcus would.

“It was nice,” you say lamely.

“It was,” he agrees softly.

Emma is looking a little less green when you arrive back home, and accepts the sandwich eagerly.

“Sorry about today,” she says, her mouth full. “I don’t know what the hell that was.”

“It was the cal–”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

At first, when you hear Emma start to fall asleep beside you, you're paralyzed. You want to go to Marcus. This is your last night; if you want to say goodbye, you need to go to him this one last time.

You just don't know if you can face goodbye.

You don't know if you can face him.

You aren't under any reservations about what this is. Marcus is a man, and you're nothing special. You're also nearly half his age. You gave him 'fuck me' eyes for three days, and he when he gave in to the temptation, you came willingly. But this was never meant to be a long-term arrangement.

It was never meant to be in the first place.

You just wish your first time hadn't been with the total package. Marcus is sweet, kind, attentive, and can apparently make you cum like it was a competitive sport. How are you supposed to go back home, back to being around boys your age, and expect them to measure up?

You debate staying in bed. It would be the easiest thing to do. You could begin tonight: stuffing your feelings down and burying them deep, never letting them see the light of day again. You were on spring break, and this was a fun romp. A fling. You could leave it there and never give Marcus the goodbye he probably deserves.

On the other hand…

What's the harm in delaying for one more night?

You slip into his room for the third time in three days, and carefully close the door behind you. Marcus is shirtless in bed, and he beckons you over with a crooked, affectionate smile.

"Fancy seeing you here, beautiful," he says, drawing the covers back with a playful raise of his eyebrow.

Despite your heavy mood, you can't help but grin back and enthusiastically hop into bed beside him.

He takes advantage immediately, grabbing you and turning you, and pulling you back against his chest with a playful growl. You're caged tightly in his arms, and there's nowhere you'd rather be.

"This is nice," you hum contentedly.

"Oh yeah? This all you want? Just a little cuddle?" Marcus teases, nipping gently at your shoulder.

"What if it was?" You wiggle your hips playfully against his hardening cock.

"If that was all you wanted? Then I'd think really hard about dead puppies and my childhood neighbor Mrs. Fitzwilliam in order to calm myself down a little," he answers.

"Mrs. Fitzwilliam?" you laugh. "Why?"

"When I was a little boy, I was convinced she was a witch. I couldn't so much as talk to her for years."

"Stop it, no you did not."

"I wouldn't joke about that," he laughs. "I was really scared of her!"

"Do me a favor and don't think about her," you tease. "I like how it feels against me."

"Would feel better somewhere else," Marcus says darkly.

"Have somewhere in mind, do you?"

"I've had it on my mind all day," he says softly.

"Show me," you murmur. "Show me what's been on your mind all day."

"Wanna know what I was picturing while I was giving that little forgery talk?" Marcus asks.

"Obviously."

"Then sit up, pretty girl."

He loosens his hold on you and you sit up, unable to keep the grin off your face. He sits up too, gently taking hold of the hem of your shirt and drawing it up over your head. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your shorts.

"Help me out with these," he commands quietly.

You shimmy them down your hips and kick them off, still kneeling before him, now completely bare. Marcus sits back on the headboard and pats his thigh suggestively, giving you a wicked smile.

"C'mere."

You giggle and bite your lip nervously as you crawl forward and straddle him.

"Wanna see you just like this," he murmurs.

"I–I've never–"

"I know," he interrupts with a wry smile. "I've got you. Just wanna see you like this," he confesses, palming your jaw and rubbing his thumb across your cheekbone.

Your eyes start to flutter shut as you feel the tip of him breach you as you sink slowly down.

"Eyes on me, honey."

With a shaky breath, you open them again, holding Marcus's intense gaze as you impale yourself on his cock. Your lips part, eyebrows pinching together at the stretch of him–you don't think you'll ever get used to the feeling of being broken open for the first time.

"That's it," he whispers. "Just like that."

You slowly rock your hips, rising up and sinking back down again. You feel so full like this; your lips part and a breathy gasp escapes you as you feel the drag of Marcus’s cock inside of you.

This is the first time you've chased your own pleasure with him like this; Marcus's eyes rake over your form greedily and as you ride him, you start to feel overly conscious of his scrutiny.

"Do I look okay?" you ask shyly.

Marcus makes a disbelieving noise and surges up, his hands starting to guide the movement of your hips as he kisses you messing, trailing from your mouth to your neck as he flexes up into you.

"Are you kidding?" he asks softly. "You're ethereal. A fucking goddess in my bed. And if you're thinking about that, I'm not fucking you right."

"That's a lie," you say with a lazy smile. "You're very thorough."

"Oh yeah? You like how I fuck you?"

"Mmmhmm," you hum. "Liked what you were doing last night."

Marcus chuckles deep in his throat. "Is that so? Cum for me like this, honey, and I'll put you on your knees again."

When his thumb presses into your clit, rubbing in small circles, it doesn't take you long to start to feel the pleasure growing in your core. You start moving faster, bouncing on his cock, no longer caring if your body is jiggling too much or that your face might look silly contorted with pleasure; all you can think about is chasing that feeling that’s building inside of you. Marcus helps you along, thrusting up into you, and you swear he must get deep enough to feel the very end of you.

He whispers little praises and encouragements in your ear in that deep, raspy way his voice gets when he’s drunk on pleasure. You can recognize all his little foibles, now–the way he wiggles his wrist back and forth when something’s on his mind, the way he talks with his hands when he’s passionate about a subject, and the way he sounds when he comes undone.

You’re going to carry all of those things with you, now–the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way he raises one eyebrow when he’s being playful, and the way he sometimes mouths along to the words of his favorite old movies.

Is it possible to miss someone so completely after just one week?

You’re so deep in your emotions when you cum, you barely even realize that you’re about to until you’re clenching hard around him, grinding down on his cock as he works you through it, guiding your hips with his fingers pressing hard into your skin.

You’re still in a daze as Marcus flips you over, depositing you on your back and then turning you over onto your stomach on the bed. Rather than pull you up to your knees like the night before, he straddles you like this and sinks back into you, draping himself over your back as he starts to really fuck you.

Oh. This might be your favorite position yet–it’s the same angle as it was last night with the added bonus of getting to feel the weight of this man pressing down on you. His chest is against your back, his ragged breaths in your ear. His elbows cage your face and he entangles your fingers together over your head. It’s a sensory overload in nearly every way, and you’re drowning in the feel of him.

It’s so good that you feel your core start to tighten again.

“So soon?” Marcus teases breathlessly in your ear. “Fuck, I can feel you shaking. How are you so fucking perfect, hmm? You always feel like you were made to take me.”

His words inexplicably cause a lump to build in your throat. Made to take him, but this couldn’t, by definition, last. The statement only makes you wish that your compatibility didn’t have to be so fucking temporary.

You’re teetering on a precipice–on the verge of both an orgasm and inexplicable tears. When Marcus gently brushes the shell of your ear with his lips and murmurs one last, soft sentence, you finally succumb to both.

“You can let go, honey. I’ve got you.”

You convulse with a wet sob, pleasure and sorrow overtaking you simultaneously. Blessedly, with your face buried in the pillow, Marcus doesn’t notice yet; he starts fucking into you with abandon until he lets go with a deep groan in your ear.

When he finally stills, and he starts peppering kisses across your shoulder blade, you can feel him stiffen when he realizes that, mortifyingly, there are tears on your cheeks.

“Shit,” Marcus breathes. He carefully slips out of you and turns you over underneath him, quickly brushing the tears at the corners of your eyes. He kisses them away, whispering softly to you.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks frantically. “Honey, look at me.”

“No!” you exclaim emphatically. “No, I–I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

“Talk to me,” he demands softly.

“I don’t–I don’t want to go home,” you whisper. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Oh, honey,” Marcus whispers. “Really?”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m sure this is exactly what you’re looking for–for some girl to get attached to you after one whole week of knowing you…”

Marcus smiles and brushes his thumb against your cheekbone. “Attached to me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you say. “You’re just really nice, and you’re gorgeous, and you’ve been so good to me–”

“Don’t cry,” he whispers. “Please don’t cry.”

"Sorry," you say again.

"Hey," he says softly, still stroking your cheek. "You know something? You're wrong. You're not 'some girl.' You're sweet, and funny, and cute, and maybe having this girl right here be attached to me after one whole week of knowing me is exactly what I'm looking for."

"What are you suggesting?" you ask bluntly.

“All I’m suggesting is that we stay in touch,” Marcus answers. “No pressure, no expectations. We talk, and we get to know each other better, and when you graduate, Miss Pre-Law,” he teases, lightly touching the tip of your nose, “if you still feel the same way, come back to me. Go to Law School at Georgetown. Get an internship at the FBI. And whatever it is that you do, I know of a place you can stay.”

"You'd really want that?" you ask, a slow smile starting to spread across your face.

"I'd be a fool not to grab onto this with both hands," he murmurs, stroking his hand down your side. "A damn fool."

"What about Emma?"

Marcus pauses, biting his lip. "She's a grown woman," he says carefully, "and I haven't had much of a place in her life growing up. I would hope that… once we see where this goes–if it goes anywhere–she'd understand."

You nod slowly. "Okay."

"I've rushed into things in the past," he says softly. "More than once. But I'm not in any rush right now. I want to take my time, get to know you, and if you're still looking at me the way you're looking at me right now in a year, I'll consider myself a lucky man."

Your smile is brilliant. "I'd like that."

"I'd like that, too. And that means tomorrow isn't goodbye, anymore."

"No?"

"Nope," Marcus says with a grin. "Just 'see you later.'"

"Can I still get a goodbye kiss?" you ask.

He shakes his head playfully, but his lips descend to meet yours anyway.

"Not a goodbye kiss," he teased.

"A 'see you later' kiss," you correct.

"A 'you are so goddamn beautiful that I can't help to kiss you' kiss."

"You're making this too complicated."

"An 'I'll call it whatever I damn well please' kiss."

"An 'everything's gonna be alright' kiss?" you ask hopefully.

Marcus smiles and kisses you long and deep. "Especially that."

– – – – –

One year later…

“May I present: the graduating class of 2024.”

Along with Emma and the rest of the seniors in the auditorium, you throw your mortar-board hat into the air, shrieking happily as someone else’s crashes down on your head, instead.

“Fucking finally!” Emma shouts beside you, and you grin widely.

The last year has been a whirlwind for the both of you, and you know it.

After reconnecting with her dad, Emma made an effort not to lose touch again. Eventually, he had opened up about his past and the circumstances surrounding his divorce, and at her urging, even began the process of making peace with her mom. They even had Christmas together, for the first time since Emma was two.

And how do you know all this?

Well, Marcus hadn’t lost touch with you, either.

True to his word, you both took your time and got to know each other from a distance. Talking to him was still as easy as breathing, and you’d spend entire nights at the beginning staying up far too late and talking well into the wee hours of the morning.

It wasn’t hard to see that the something that was between you was still there and not going away any time soon. And the only thing you’ve found so far that rivals the strength of your friendship is the passion that you continue to have for each other in the bedroom.

Marcus would make trips when he could–some visits ostensibly to see Emma and other, more secret trysts where his only aim was to see you. (And see you he did; on most occasions, he’d barely let you out of his hotel room.)

Your beginning may have been a meteoric collision–two people forced into proximity that had no choice but to fall into each other–but the growth of your resulting love was slow and careful.

Eventually, you’d need to tell Emma, but it didn’t feel like the time was quite right, yet. Of course, when she visits you at Georgetown next year and you give her not your own address, but her father’s, the two of you will have to come clean.

Right now, though, as you and Emma weave through the crowds of people looking for Marcus, you’re content to keep things the way they are. Everything is slowly falling into place, and that piece of the puzzle will fit into the rest when it’s ready.

“There she is!”

Emma beams as she hears Marcus call out, waving his hand frantically to catch your attention among the sea of people.

She lets herself be crushed into a hug, her father grinning proudly and murmuring something unintelligible into her ear. After a few minutes, he releases her and turns to you.

“Congratulations,” he says–perfunctorily, but warmly.

“Thank you.”

After a couple of beats, Emma rolls her eyes.

“Would you just kiss her already? Honestly, it’s more weird that you’re not.”

Two sets of eyes swivel to her in alarm.

“You… you knew?” you exclaim.

Emma gives you a disbelieving look. “Okay, the fact that you two both think you were being subtle means you might actually be meant for each other. Wow.”

“How?” you choke out.

“Are you serious? You two had bizarre energy when you met, and ever since, I see you smiling at your phone all the time,” Emma says to you. “And after that week, whenever he’s come to visit, you both act weird around each other.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly.

“Plus, you had a hickey on your neck one morning,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Real subtle.”

Oops. You shoot Marcus a look, and notice that he’s as red as a tomato.

“Em,” he starts, looking pained.

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. “Look, it’s not like we had the closest of relationships when I was a kid. I'm getting to know you as an adult, and it just feels different than it would be if you had raised me. I’m not going to say it doesn’t make me feel fucking weird, and I don’t ever wanna know details about your sex life and I am not calling you ‘mom,’ but I guess I’ll just say… I get it. You two are oddly similar, and I wouldn’t want to stand in between you and happiness. Because I… you know. I love you.”

“Emma,” Marcus says, his smile turning watery for a moment.

“Don’t… make a big deal out of it,” she grumbles.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he laughs, and gives her a sweet kiss on the forehead. “I love you too, Emmie.”

He pulls back and looks at you, his eyes sparkling, and you feel your insides start to heat up just from his gaze alone.

Those words are still new, between you–the first time was whispered softly in his ear in the darkness after spending all night wrapped around each other just a couple of months ago. Marcus whispered them back immediately after; he was achingly patient and careful to take his time with you, even though you’d felt that emotion emanating from each of you for months prior.

It was just–you didn’t want to rush things. Love was new to you. Everything was. And if Marcus was going to be your first experience with all of it, you had a feeling that you were going to want to savor it.

You know he feels the same.

Stepping forward, Marcus gently tips your chin up to meet him in a gentle kiss. The shape of his lips are so familiar now, you could probably draw them in your sleep. You know the way they move against yours. You know how it feels when he smiles against your mouth–which he does often, and right now.

“Congratulations,” he murmurs again. This time, the word is dark and full of underlying emotion–love, affection, friendship, pride–and you grin back as you kiss him once more.

“What now?” you ask with a little laugh.

“I have a few ideas,” he husks in your ear, inaudible to anyone else, before pulling back. “But right now?” he shrugs. “Anything you want. Everything.”

“What if I said that all I wanted was you?”

Marcus’s eyes soften. “Well, honey,” he says gently, “you’re in luck, because that’s the one thing I can give you.”

The end.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fanfiction #pedro pascal

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sennamaticart · 4 months

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Every New Years, I like to show off some of the art that never got posted during the year! I think its important to know not everything makes it through to the final stage, but its always good to keep track of your work!

Explanations under the read more!

One of the many unicorn drawings I made this year, I was SUPER dedicated to making something that echoes the design of a halberd. When I was making it, it ended up feeling like I was going through the motions and I lost sight of the original idea. It ended up being finished, but I never posted it because it felt like it wasn't good enough to stand alongside my other works in the series!

A little doodle of Uncle Stinky and I from early January! I really DO like this one, and would have posted it if it were more substantial. I'm hoping to maybe repurpose it into a bigger collection of my diary comics instead of letting it rot on my hard drive for no reason!

Another Uncle Stinky drawing. I actually think I might've posted this one somewhere on twitter or Instagram, but it didn't seem to make it to tumblr for the same reason as the previous drawing. But fun fact! This was one of the first drawings I made with the Kolormarc brushes that ended up shaping my unicorn art during the year!

Another unfinished Unicorn drawing. This one went through a ton of differently thumbnails over quite a few weeks. I got all the way to the lineart before I burned out on it. I just couldn't decide how I wanted to color it and other work ended up piling up. I would really like to see it through to the finish line in the future.

A collection of photobashed weapons from a DnD campaign. This was the campaign my friend DMed and the same campaign that created Romeo. I made this drawing for a zine we've been working on for a few months. If it ever makes it to finish, I'd love the share the zine with you guys! The weapons are (in order from left to right) a lethal squirt gun, owned by Romeo, a glittery mace owned by Hugh Mongus, a temperature-controlled hook for Captain Hook, and a feather-light sword for Hickory.

The very first thing i made in the Womp 3D software! I don't have much experience with 3D modeling, but it was pretty easy to latch onto the mechanics of this! It was just a simple beast, I still kind of like it!

Another DnD drawing for the same zine as #5. This is a little drawing of an NPC named Rumple, who's some fancy fashion designer who's crossed paths with Romeo in the past. Rumple was really fun to interact with, and the snazziest dresser in the campaign!

A itty bitty Uncle Stinky I made for a super bare-bones pet game i found somewhere? It was so barebones that it's pretty much useless. But hey! If you wanna try it out, I'm hosting it on my (practically unused) neocities page

Some drawings of my friend @finnimate 's DnD character from the same campaign as Zoltan! His name is Angel, and he's a big sturdy triceratops. I love a good dinosaur, but Triceratops are notoriously awkward to draw. I threw this page together just to try it out and see if I could help them settle on a design. I don't think I succeeded, but I like getting to draw Angel anyways :D

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sjw-publishings · 11 days

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Hey Everyone,

I don’t tend to write these kinds of posts on my tumblr page, however I feel this is necessary.

In the event you are not aware, Dumb and Jocked, the main person I do collabs with, and also who is someone who most people might consider to be one of the backbones of the Tumblr TF community, has deactivated his account and left us last week.

Most of the people and I do not know exactly why or how this happened, but it's the reality of the situation unless he somehow does return in the future.

Some tumblrs might still have some of his stories reblogged, including mine, however some of which cannot be accessed as they are stuck at the ‘read more’ page. Notably his longer stories ‘Branded’ and both parts of the major collaboration we did together in ‘Narrow residences’.

If anyone has any of these stories saved somewhere, it would be great if you could either link it to me or post it on Tumblr.

Below will be my farewell to him, in the event he ever does somehow read it. This probably is not the best farewell letter, but it's the best I could do in such short notice and also posting it publicly. —————————————————————

Hey Dumb and Jocked,

Thanks for reading this, and I'm sad to see you go.

We’ve worked on various collabs together and it was fun throughout the years discussing various ideas here and there with you.

Unfortunately, after you left, it just feels really upsetting looking at the stuff you wrote. Even those that were saved from reblogs and reposts from other blogs. While I do want to keep them for memories and also because I did collaborate on some of them, it just feels much sadder trying to indulge in your stories or continue in sequels of it.

I was shocked that you would leave us out of the blue, however a part of me anticipated this.

I'm mostly speculating, but this is a hobby that can be rather controversial and you contributed a massive ton, likely without any compensation. You were quite private in general and talked about stories and bounced off my ideas now and then.

You sort of have a clean gateway if you decide to ever leave for good, as you probably are not really close to anyone here other than writing TF stories.

Some of us hoped that you might return, and speculated maybe it's tumblr accidentally banning you and you would get your account back, but as the days went by, it only reaffirmed that my anticipation was likely correct.

I myself mostly continued on tumblr for you, and I'm not sure if I would continue now that the main reason and person I stuck around for has left without letting any of us know. It is something I will have to decide for myself in the future.

If you ever do return to Tumblr or decide to message me privately to talk about things, that would be great. I do hope you return, even if you don’t write stories that frequently or even at all, so we could talk for a bit.

However I know that I won’t wait forever.

That’s all I will write in this letter. It was fun writing and discussing TF stories with you while it lasted.

-Sjw Publishings

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art · 2 years

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Creator Spotlight: @loish

Lois is a digital artist who divides her time between creating personal art and character design work. She has released three books, all successfully funded through Kickstarter. You can find her work on loish.net. We asked her a few questions about her art process, style, and inspiration! Check out the interview below.

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

I started posting my art online when I was around 16, although back then, it was more small artist communities and deviantart. I went on to study animation and then started working as a freelancer after graduating! So I do have a background in art but have been actively sharing my work for much longer.

How would you best describe your style?

I guess I would call my style semi-realistic feminine art inspired by Disney and Alfonse Mucha! I think the semi-realism is key - it’s cartoony but still has many elements of realism that put it somewhere between the two.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as a creator?

A habit that helps me a lot is getting annoying tasks out of the way early in the day. I go through email and tasks before I get started on my art so that I can just focus fully on my art when it’s time to create. I just want to zone out while I’m drawing and not be distracted by other things!

How do you want to evolve as a creator?

One thing that matters a lot to me is making more and more time to do what I truly love and want to do, and be able to share that with others. So I’m trying to prioritize personal art more and more, and in the future, I’d love to just dedicate all of my time to that.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I’d have to go with some cliche answers and choose some old dutch masters: Vincent van Gogh, Rembrandt, and Vermeer. I’m so curious about their lives and ways of thinking. I’d want to know whether Vermeer really used a camera obscura, what Rembrandt thinks of animation and film (since his work was so dynamic), and just break the news to Vincent that he is one of the most appreciated artists of all time. And I’d want to know everything about what life in Europe was like during the years they were alive because I’m a bit of a history geek.

What are your file name conventions?

I name the file with year first, month second, then date. After that, I give it a name. So something like: 20220809_plant_studies.psd. That way everything is chronological, but I can also search by name if I forget when I drew it!

What is the hardest part of your process?

Honestly, the hardest part is just getting started and moving beyond the blank canvas. Once I’ve set my mind on something, the rest is manageable. But figuring out what I want to do, and dealing with all the anxieties that come with wondering whether I can pull it off, is the hardest.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

One of my favorite artists that I discovered on Tumblr is @moosekleenex. Their art is so flowy and beautiful, but the comics are always funny and relatable. And they’ve been at it for so long, still making new art all the time. Also, I bought a few of their prints in the past and got some free original art with my order. It was one of my best art purchases!

Check out more of Lois’ artwork on her Tumblr, @loish!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #loish

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forever-once-gone · 1 year

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New Drabble! On The First Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me...

This is a drabble! To read the first part click here! And please I hope you all read this since you guys seem to love this pair.

Pairing: Yandere!Namjoon x Reader x Yandere!Jungkook

Genre: Yandere AU, angst

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Before you had gotten kidnapped by your boss and his fiancé, you had to first meet the Mr. Jeon that you heard so much about. So, how exactly did your first meeting with him go? Well, why not reminisce about the last time you were truly free? When you were not yet locked to your unfortunate future of being added into your boss’ relationship.

Content & Warnings: Gender neutral reader, yandere themes, angst, Joon and Kook are in an established relationship, CEO!Joonie, stay-at-home-boyfriend!Kook, assistant!reader, polyamory, reader’s sexuality is nondescript, talks of violence, Jungkook wants to hurt the reader a lot during this, general discomfort, making out, use of pet names, reader being none the wiser to what the two of them are talking about as they continue to type away on their keyboard lol

Author’s Note: Hi hi! It’s been a while. I’ve been swamped with school and just haven’t been able to write anything for you guys lately. But today, I logged into Tumblr and saw some very kind reblogs and asks and I just wanted to write something for you guys! I really appreciate the kind comments and It really does fuel me to write for you guys. So here is a drabble for your guys’ favourite couple! I hope you guys enjoy seeing how Jungkook and the reader’s first encounter went. It’s funny cause Jungkook is like fuming and they’re just like “this guy seems stressed :(” and then they get chosen (kinda) to be pursued by Jungkook and Namjoon lol. I apologize for not having posted part two last Christmas, but I was honestly just really stressed around that time. And then I wanted to have this small inside Easter egg (?) for something in part two but then I realized it was kinda hard to explain without having a previous explanation for it. So this drabble worked out! It was a little incentive to add that little tidbit into this and maybe you’ll have a little “oh!” moment when you read something later on when I post part two (whenever that will be lol, don’t ask me, idk. I’m aiming for this Christmas). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. I need to stop writing this author’s note, it’s has gotten too long anyways lol. So yeah, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Jungkook was fuming as he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor of the elevator, seething for the elevator to spit him out on Namjoon’s floor. He was gonna figure out what was going on with his boyfriend one way or another.

His dearest Joonie had refused his daily cup of coffee… again. For the past few weeks, Namjoon, the love of his life, had been eating everything during breakfast that Jungkook woke up oh so graciously to make for him each morning. Joon finished everything except his fucking cup of coffee. Some days he’d be kind enough to take a sip or two before leaving the still very full mug standing in its place on the dining room table beside his empty dishes.

Seeing the mug full of the coffee that Namjoon used to always say Jungkook made better than anyone else left Jungkook feeling insecure. Insecure and just a little bit angry. Okay, maybe a bit more than a little bit, he’ll admit. Okay, fine, he was boiling with fury. He hated to imagine that Namjoon was drinking coffee made by someone else. Because he knew for a fact, if Namjoon wasn’t drinking his coffee, then he was getting it from somewhere else ‘cause Joonie was never able to get anything done without his morning coffee. And knowing Joonie’s disdain for store bought coffee, Jungkook knew it had to be someone making it for him, homemade. And if he was drinking someone else's, that must mean that he was falling out of love with him and falling in love with this awful, boyfriend-stealing, shameless person. And Jungkook was gonna stop at nothing until he found who this fucking person was and got even. He was gonna win Namjoon back one way or another.

The ding-ing of the elevator woke him from his murderous thoughts just in time to see the doors open to the empty space that lead to his boyfriend’s office. Or at least, the once-empty area, because now, unlike the last time he’d come here about a month ago, there was a table placed just before the office doors. And behind that table was a person, who upon hearing the elevators open perked up from their computer screen to smile at him. This person had a sweet smile, kind eyes, and the smoothest voice as they asked him what they could do for him.

He walked up to their table, arms crossed over his chest as he analysed the person sitting below him. The person still smiling up at him even throughout the awkward silence as Jungkook left their question unanswered. The person was dressed nicely and they had a kind aura around them. Their workspace was covered in flowers from the flower shop that Jungkook knew Namjoon frequented. Usually, his Joonie brought home flowers only for him, but here was this new person who was now swimming between countless bouquets covering every free inch of their work table.

When they asked him what he wanted for the second time, he finally graced the person with an answer. “I’m here to see Namjoon.”

The person nodded their head, before prodding for more info. “Alright, and who might you be?” the person asked, turning to scroll through their computer, searching to see if they had accidentally double-booked their boss’ time.

“I’m Jungkook,” he began, back straightening in pride when he saw the worker tense up in their seat. “Joon’s boyfriend,” he concluded, mentally doing a mic drop, hoping that those words etched themselves in the worker's skin, the one who was stealing his Namjoon from him. He hoped it hurt.

What he didn’t expect is for the worker to turn back to him after X-ing out of the calendar that they had been frantically scrolling through, before turning to him with a polite smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” the person began, “I think this is the first time we’re actually meeting in person. I’m Y/n L/n, Mr. Kim’s assistant. I just got shifted up to this floor about a month ago from my previous place a few floors down.” You reached your hand out to him for him to shake, just for him to completely ignore it, not even glancing in your hands direction.

“Yes. I’m sure he’s mentioned me before.” Jungkook was gonna make sure that you knew that Namjoon was his, no matter how nice you pretended to be.

“Yes, he has,” you replied pleasantly. “And of course, I’ve spoken with you before too, if you recall?”

When he thought about it, he had spoken with you before. The few times he’d call Namjoon’s assistant when his boyfriend wasn’t picking up. He would pace in this same area, back when it was still empty and call the number for Namjoon’s assistant to know when he’d be free again. The conversations would be semi-mannerly, at best, as he would ask where his boyfriend was before hanging up as soon as he got his answer. He never expected the assistant, that he never spoke more than a few clipped sentences to, being the one who was stealing his love away from him.

That they would have been moved up to be on the same floor as his boyfriend.

The two of them.

Alone.

And when he saw two cups of steaming coffee on your table corner, one half finished and one still untouched, he knew that you were the one making coffee for his man. He felt deep hatred rise in his chest, bubbling up his throat, ready to let out his rage on the home-breaker in front of him.

But he pushed his feelings down before giving you a pursed smile. “Right. You sound different in person. I didn’t even recognize you.” It was true, he wasn’t expecting your voice to be as sweet as it was, though he could tell it was strictly professional. Even when you were so obviously putting on a kind smile for the sake of your job, your voice was so saccharine. He could only imagine how much more saccharine—sinful—your voice must sound when you were using it for your more devious desires.

Jungkook wondered if you’d ever used that syrupy voice on his boyfriend. Walked into his man’s office with your probably sub-par coffee between your hands. You were attractive, that he will give to you, but he hoped that Namjoon wouldn't think the same way that he did. He hoped that any attempts that you’d made on him were met with bitter rejection.

But seeing you surrounded with all the flowers, making your soft features look even more attractive—though he hated to admit it—he knew that Namjoon must feel at least something for you. Why else would Namjoon have gotten you all these flowers? Flowers that Jungkook indignantly noticed were his favourites.

You were perfect and that’s what made his heart hurt more.

In another life, maybe Jungkook would have fallen for you himself, he thought sorely.

You laughed at his remark about your voice. “I guess no one really sounds the same over the phone though, right?” You asked him. “I mean, you sound pretty different yourself.”

Jungkook felt his eye twitch. Was that a dig at him? Were you implying that he was being rude? Were you saying he was anything less than the kindest, best person in the world? He restrained himself from reaching over your desk and pulling your hair out, telling you how Namjoon always told him that he was the best person in the world. He wanted to tell you that you’d never compare to him in Namjoon’s eyes.

Instead of doing any of that, he decided it was better to just ask for his boyfriend. He had a few choice words that he wanted to have with him.

“So will you please tell me if my boyfriend is available?” he asked you, steering the conversation back to the original topic of conversation.

Your eyes widened. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Mr. Jeon. In my surprise of meeting you for the first time, I forgot to tell you that he’s in a meeting right now. He should be done in…” You turned to check the clock on the wall. “...in just about ten minutes.”

You turned back to the man in front of you who stood there with a small pout that you were sure he didn’t realize was there and you observed the way his eyebrows scrunched slightly together. It was funny to see how his overly expressive face had changed so many times in the little amount of time that he’d come up to you. Clearly something was bothering this poor guy, so you tried to be as nice to him as you could. Though it only seemed to make him look even worse.

“You can wait for him in the sitting area over there or you could wait for Mr. Kim in his office.” You left it up to Mr. Jeon choose what he’d rather do, only for him to scoff slightly.

“I’ll wait for him in his office,” he answered curtly. He began to walk away and you turned back to your computer only for him to step back up to you. He pointed at the mug sitting beside yours. “Is this for Joonie?”

“Uh yeah.”

“I’ll take this to him.” He gave you another half smile and one last glance at your pretty face before finally entering Mr. Kim’s and taking the suffocating aura that was surrounding him with him. You sighed in relief. You hated having to deal with this job, but the paycheque wasn’t anything to scoff at, and so you settled back into your chair and hoped Mr. Kim would get here soon.

Namjoon found Jungkook sitting in his chair when he returned from his meeting on one of the lower floors of the building. His younger boyfriend sipping on a cup of coffee that he recognized was the one that you usually set out for him. He could see Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in disgust, as he continuously sipped loudly from his drink.

Namjoon could tell immediately that his beloved was in one of his moods. He knew that he had to get control of the situation, and quickly, especially if he didn’t want you to overhear whatever Kookie was upset about.

“Hi, love. What are you doing here?” Namjoon rounded the table to press a kiss against Jungkook’s temple as he continued to sip from his cup.

“They make some good coffee, huh? I see now why you’ve been rejecting my coffee now.” Jungkook got right to his point. His voice was cold and he refused to look at his boyfriend as he set down the now empty mug.

Namjoon sighed. “Don’t be like that. I was just being kind to them. I didn’t want to upset them by not accepting their coffee.” He pulled Jungkook up from the chair momentarily before sitting down in Jungkook’s place. He then smoothly pulled his boyfriend to sit down sideways on his lap. He rubbed his large hand up and down Jungkook’s back, trying to calm him down.

“Oh really?” Jungkook shoved Namjoon’s arm away from him. “‘Just being kind’? What about all the roses on their desk?! I saw the labels on them, they’re from Sirf Ek Phool! The same place you always get flowers for me!” Jungkook folded his arms against his chest, stopping himself from beating his fists against his boyfriend’s chest like he wanted to.

“Honey, that is just because they take such good care of me—”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Take care of you? Excuse me? Taking better care of you than me? Your boyfriend?! In which way is this assistant taking care of my boyfriend, hmm? Do I need to beat their ass?!” He began to push himself off Namjoon’s lap, eyes locked at the door with a barbaric look in his eyes.

Namjoon swiped a hand over his face, before pulling his boyfriend back into his chest, closer than he was before, his arms locking over his waist. “Love, you know that I love you more than anything else in the world. No other person could ever take your place. They are just very kind, I promise I’m not doing anything that would harm our relationship. I promise you.”

He pressed a kiss against Jungkook’s cheek, before pressing another against his jaw. He pulled a content sigh from Jungkook, and Namjoon knew instantly that he’d deescalated the situation. At least enough for Kookie not to go and murder his assistant. At least not right now.

“Why should I trust you?” Kookie let out softly in between whimpers as Namjoon nipped at his neck.

“When have I ever lied to you?” Namjoon said against his Adam's apple.

“Many, many times,” Jungkook replied.

Namjoon let out a half laugh against Jungkook’s shoulder, letting his forehead rest against him. “I guess I should clarify. When have I ever lied to you in a way that was bad for you?”

“Never.” Jungkook pulled Namjoon’s face to face him. “You always know what’s best, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.”

“Don’t be that way. I’m not asking you to be best friends with them or anything like that. Just give them a chance to be your friend.”

Jungkook thought for a second, thinking back to you sitting at your desk and your friendly nature. You weren’t that bad, and you were rather pretty… Ugh, couldn’t Namjoon just be clear with what he meant? Did he expect… more from you than just an assistant?

Jungkook’s bottom lip was jutted out in sadness, calling out to Namjoon with its plump red appearance. Namjoon was again taken aback by his boyfriend’s beauty and just how amazing he was for him. After all, look at him. Just a second ago, Jungkook was ready to beat up his assistant and now he was clutching Namjoon’s suit jacket’s lapels with a vulnerable look on his face. He looked so worried, waiting for Namjoon’s next words and his next course of action. Fuck, Namjoon loved that man.

He pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss, letting the shorter man melt into his embrace. He could taste your signature coffee on Jungkook’s tongue which only made Namjoon push his tongue more eagerly in his mouth. The taste of your coffee and the love of his life together making his head spin in ecstasy. His brain painted a picture of what could come if he was able to make this whole thing work.

He knew what he wanted, and he knew he’d get it.

Don’t mistake him for being selfish, oh no. He wasn’t doing this just because he wanted you. It’s because he knew that in due time Jungkook will fall for you too. He knew he would. He wouldn’t have to push it, nor would he have to force it. You were perfect for the two of them, he’d figured that out in less than 8 months of you becoming his assistant after the last one quit. You were incredible and he knew that you were just Jungkook’s type. He knew Jungkook and he knew that in less than a month he’d be just as smitten with you as Namjoon was with you now. Actually, Namjoon knows that Jungkook would be even more in love with you than he was now.

And with Jungkook now in his arms, Jungkook’s hands gripping the sides of Namjoon’s neck possessively, his thumbs pushing into Namjoon’s jaw. The way that Jungkook had finished your whole cup of coffee leaving nothing for Namjoon to even get a taste of, and how Jungkook despite his furious expression had the slightest bit of a flush on his face when Namjoon had first walked in, he knew that Jungkook already was falling for you.

Namjoon pressed one final kiss to Jungkook’s lips before pulling away.

Jungkook had a blissed out expression on his face, a soft smile etched on his features as his eyes remained shut in happiness.

“Do you really hate them that much?” Namjoon asked Jungkook, watching him carefully.

Jungkook slowly opened his eyes, a blush slowly making its way up his neck. He turned to look to the side, revealing his bright red ears to Namjoon. Jungkook thought back to your sweet voice, your pretty face, your kind smile, and the coffee you had made that he couldn’t get enough of even as much as he had wanted to hate it. He turned to glance at the empty mug on the table that he wished would refill on its own.

He waited for a minute before: “No.”

“But no more ignoring my coffee, you still have to drink mine! And you have to say that mine's better than theirs” Jungkook added.

Namjoon smiled. Perfect, he knew this would be perfect. He knew just how perfectly you’d fit in with his little family. How you’d fit in Jungkook’s heart. He knew the both of you very well. He was proud.

Namjoon forced Jungkook to turn back to him before attacking him with kisses again.

You turned to see Mr. Jeon skipping out of Mr. Kim’s office. You expected him to go directly to the elevator because of his short attitude with you earlier, but he instead turned to stand in front of your table once again. Smiling down at you genuinely for the first time since he first walked into the room.

You waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, you figured you should say something instead. “All done?” you asked.

Mr. Jeon just nodded his head, which only made the newly blossoming marks on his neck more visible to you. “I had a sip of the coffee you made Joonie, it was good.”

“Oh thank you,” you replied, a bit taken aback by his sudden change from his previous conduct from before Mr. Kim had shown up. Mr. Kim had given you a small nod in greeting before entering his office when you’d told him Mr. Jeon was waiting for him. Mr. Jeon must really love Mr. Kim for his personality to do such a 180 after seeing him for just half an hour.

Damn, is that what love does to a person?

“I would like to have a proper cup the next time I come visit Joonie.” Mr. Jeon looked down at you expectantly. He seemed to be looking for something deep within you and when you agreed to make him a cup the next time you saw him, he seemed to have found whatever he was looking for.

He smiled at you though a bit hesitant. He pulled a rose from one of the vases of your bouquets, twirling it between his fingers. He seemed to still be a bit stuck thinking of something, but then he was turning away from you. He pressed the button calling the elevator, before turning back at you. “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. I hope we’re able to get to know each other more in the future.”

“Yes, of course!”

He waved the flower at you in goodbye before stepping into the elevator, flashing you one final bunny smile.

What an odd man.

Does 3k still count as a drabble? I have no clue. Anyway, thanks for reading! 💕💕💕

#yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yandere bts fanfic #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #namjoon x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #poly bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #Ev's writing #Ev's bts poly fic #fic: on the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 29 days

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AITA for trying to find someone who blocked me?

I (f early 20's) made a tumblr account almost a year ago, mainly just to vent about petty discourse and what not. I made a bunch of friends and many of them I'm still in contact with this day. One of them was named H (early 20's X). H and I quickly struck up a friendship and we exchanged other social media handles as well. We talked almost daily, mostly about mundane stuff or complaining about tumblr users or sending funny memes. Nothing out of the ordinary.

About a month or so ago they opened up donations and even said they'd take some commissions to help them move to their partner's house. I donated a some money (not saying the amount but its somewhere between 40-55 bucks) because I got back money from my university and i wanted to help out a friend. They said they'd send over examples and that was it

After not hearing from them for a while, I tried to check on them and found they blocked me everywhere. I was shocked. There was ZERO indication that they were unhappy with me or I had said something wrong. I also realized they blocked me the day (or day after) I sent them the money

My friends think that I got scammed but I don't believe it. They'd been talking to me and posting about needing money for weeks before commissions went up. I combed through our messages to see if I said or did something wrong. Nothing. A close friend of mine said I should try to refund the money or expose them. Im not gonna do that because this is a private matter. However, I want answers. I know I'm not entitled to any sort of explanation, especially from someone who was technically an internet stranger, but it would have been nice.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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