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neoyi · 10 months

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Okay, cool. I can finally talk about the absolute catharsis I felt after fifteen years hoping - dreaming - of this moment because holy SHIT, they did it. They goddamn DID IT.

VLAD GOT HIS REDEMPTION ARC.

Let's talk about it...

By the end of the third season, Vlad Masters had ostracized the entire planet by exposing his true self (why), demanding money and total command of Earth, and completely wailing on Jack Fenton, driving away the only member of that family who unequivocally adored the man where every other Fenton knew him for who he truly was: utterly despicable and incapable of seeing the bigger picture.

Because, after all, he is a villain and that's just what villains do. Villains want power. Villains want to rule the world. There need not be more than that, and in another show, there wouldn't have to be. As far as Hartman was concerned, there is only a binary Good vs. Evil.

You would be hard-pressed to view the Vlad in "Phantom Planet" as the same man who anguished in desperate madness when his perfect clone son died in his arms. That was a Vlad who, by that point, had taken his biggest gamble and lost. I guess one could see his reasoning in season three as a "fuck it all, what even is the point" mode. But while "Eye For an Eye" (tellingly, the last major script helm by former main story writer Steve Marmel... just saying) promised a personal conflict, by the end of the show, he's made it much more external, far greater than what he and Danny's interwoven plot originally started off as.

Vlad is pathetic. Vlad is narcissistic. He is egotistical, entitled; a bitter, arrogant man who lives in his dream castle with all the money and privilege in the world that would leave him content a hundred times over, and it's still not enough.

Money is not Maddie Fenton, the woman he loves. Money is not Jazz, a child that should have been his. Money is not Jack's friendship whom he denies severely, the only part of his life who willingly embraces him. And money is not Danny, who is a half-ghost like him, and by all rights, should have been his son.

No one else could ever understand to the fullest extent of their uniqueness than Vlad and Danny would to each other, and the latter, for the longest time, hated that. Hated the way Vlad talked down to him and manipulated him, hated the whispers into his ears with promises of grand power if he just joined the billionaire's side and become his ward, hated when he caved in just once in front of Vlad's eyes who responded with a smug "See, I know you" reaction. Danny was fortunate to have good moral compasses from his family and friends, but the thing is, though, it's not about the healthy support structure he had, because Vlad had the chance to get some, too. Jack and Maddie loved Danny no matter what he was, and dollars to donuts, they would have for Vlad if the latter had approached them with his problems.

But he chose instead to be bitter and miserable, taking it out on everyone and expecting them to fall into his train of thought. The show knew what he did was wrong, but until season three, never stopped repeating his truest desire: to find love and squash his crushing loneliness.

Hartman couldn't provide a damn on what exactly was Vlad's "destiny" in "Infinite Realm"; it was vague gesturing to excuse his villainy. He was more than happy to abandon the life he's made for himself and the woman he loved in spite of two decades of planning, all on a whim for whatever time period the Infi-map was willing to take him, hoping maybe this one will give him the unconditional worship that he thinks he's deserved (by force, of course.)

Because he's the villain.

And for the longest time, the show ended with the idea that Vlad deserved to be stranded, away from people, because he simply could not help himself. To be fair, there is a lesson in that - some people genuinely DO go so far that there really is nothing more we can do other than stop the problem before they cause any further harm. I'm not denouncing that.

What I AM denouncing is the the narrative plant that's dug its way into the greater plot where an older Vlad in "The Ultimate Enemy", realized what a fool he had been. What he wouldn't give to start all over and be a better person. You don't just give someone a sympathetic goal like "looking for love", constantly provide the necessary stepping stones, and not have it set up for something far more substantial than what we got.

And even then, even if it still ended with Vlad being too far gone, I wonder, should the supposedly original plot arc for season three had been made, would Vlad's fate there been far more appropriate than whatever cartoonish supervillainy he ended up as by the time "Phantom Planet" ended?

I cannot speak for Gabriela Epstein. I cannot say how much Nickelodeon allowed her to tinker with the DP world. All of this is presumptuous speculation on my part, but this entire comic feels like they looked at season three, particularly "Phantom Planet", realized what a travesty that was, had their work cut out for it, and went about to make a post-series finale story that still paid tribute to its ending while wiping it off the map.

Vlad's redemption is the crux.

Within just a few panels, Gabriela Epstein provided an explanation on the why of Vlad's actions circa-season three. The Infi-Map was aimless because Vlad's purpose was aimless. And Vlad's purpose was aimless because his need to be in control was a manifestation of his greatest fear: being alone.

"A Glitch in Time" recontexualizes why Vlad traveled across time in "Infinite Realm." It wasn't a generic bad-guy-wants-to-rule-the-world-through-latest-plot-claptrap, but an act of utter desperation from a man who had since lost the biggest connection to his very being: Danny.

It started with Maddie (someone whom Vlad only interacts once in the comic, but is an acknowledgement of his villainous origin, nonetheless), and it may still end with Danny.

Never, in a million, billion years, have I even thought about another redemption arc... for Dark Danny.

And I am kicking myself for not even considering such an option. I had pegged him so far gone, so far past the breaking point to think otherwise. Dark Danny was suppose to be the outcome of a Danny at his literal worst: a too-late, too-little scenario. Back then, it was a symbol of Danny's rejection of what Vlad expected and desired of him.

But the comic made me sit down and think about the implication of Dark Danny's very existence, that of a man who lost his family and friends ten years ago as a child. Like Vlad, he, too was alone, and had carried a tremendous amount of pain and anguish that his human half just could not bear.

Yeah, they died because of a time loop HE created, but that doesn't erase that he was born from a horrible trauma that he could not properly cope with. And Vlad, try as he might, did not fix it. All he ended up doing was separate a ghost - infamous for their obsessions, and now, as the comic established, a carrier of human emotions - to exist. And Dark Danny carried so much raw emotion that he retaliated very, very violently.

Everyone's respond at that time was to fight him and stuff him in a Fenton Thermos for eternity. I am not saying Danny wasn't justified in fighting his darker self because the dude legitimately caused massive damage and likely murdered a hell of a lot of people, I am just saying Dark Danny is the byproduct of a scared, lonely, traumatized child.

And what does he do? He tries to take what he thinks is his by any means necessary. Vlad got his wish, he got the son he wanted.

And he's facing him now.

And he gets it.

He finally fucking GETS IT.

Which shouldn't have been a surprise because his "The Ultimate Enemy" counterpart got it. He looked at the devil that he created and lingered as a hermit in regret. And now Vlad - Vlad Prime - reacted the same.

Only this time, he can fix it.

I did not anticipate that Vlad's redemption would happen at the same time as Dark Danny's. I didn't expect the two of them to link other than the latter being another number in Vlad's bullshit entitlement count.

I love that it isn't Danny who heals him, but Vlad. It had to be Vlad. In order to own up to his actions, Vlad had to look at the eyes of the boy he was entrusted and corrupted beforehand and apologize for what he put him through. And I don't mean just "The Ultimate Enemy", Vlad is apologizing for everything he's done up to this point.

He (temporarily) sacrifices his body to stabilize Dark Danny who has fucked up the time stream so much that he wouldn't be able to exist otherwise. And only then do the two of them get what they've longed for.

Vlad gets a son.

Dark Danny gets a family.

Holy forking shirt balls.

I have a lot of problems with alternate counterparts sticking around longer than they should in the "main" setting of a show. Usually I'm fine when it's an alternate counterpart demonstrated as someone the hero is trying so hard not to be, because it's compelling to see what could have been under different circumstances. It's another thing when you have another version of the main character running around doing their own thing. Multiverse characters are inherently messy just by existing, but it gets worse when they take away from the uniqueness of the central protagonist.

There's something awkward about two Danny Phantoms living in the same world, and in any other scenario, I would have hated it. But Dark Danny is of a vastly different background brought forth from a long, nuanced, engaging history between him and Vlad.

Danny's central journey - the cusp of the show - has always been the Spider-Man mantra, "great powers = great responsibilities." You are in charge of how you carry the burden of your powers. Vlad has been the one constant always challenging and belittling his selflessness. "A Glitch in Time" had Danny asking himself, what is his purpose? Who is he now that everything has been neatly wrapped up?

Writing anything about who Danny is means Vlad is presented in some way, shape, or form. They are so thoroughly linked to each other, and it's that link that simultaneously serve to push their own individual character arc, and their relationship with each other.

So, Vlad gets a son. Dark Danny gets a family. They get a second chance, and it is up to them to work it out. I have no idea if Vlad got his wealth back. Everything is restored as is, except Danny's secret identity is secured again (which I am 100% fine with except for one notable exception, but that's another topic for another day) and implication that Vlad was just a crummy mayor with no indication the greater public is also aware of his Plasimus mode (which I am also fine with.)

There's a part of me who thinks he should have lost the money and power he's accumulated because he gained them through his vice, but if he's back in his Wisconsin cheese castle, then he can damn well use the money he has to not only benefit the world (charities, improving human lives, funding Fenton Works ;D...), but to raise his son.

Dark Danny is going to have to adjust to the idea that his father is Vlad, something he was already expected to do so when he orphaned himself and moved in with him. But it's Vlad who has to work the most out of the two: as a parental figure - as an adult - he's always had a power over Danny regardless of what timeline they're in. Most of the time, he's abused it heavily.

The second chance Vlad has been given here means he has the ability to provide a safe, healthy environment. It's more than he deserves. He failed with Danny and he absolutely failed with Dani (another can of worms in itself; she's not mentioned in the comic, and I imagine it's because her story would need a comic of her own), he cannot fail with this Danny.

Vlad shouldn't have been given a child at all until there was a guarantee that he could work through his bullshit, but Dark Danny is a special case. He is a kid who needs a home and someone to love him unconditionally, and Vlad needs to learn boundaries while giving selfless love in order to be loved himself.

Clockwork gave Vlad a test, so get studying, dude.

This does not erase how Danny Prime feels about him. He may never want to forgive Vlad, and that's his right. He can acknowledge however, that, in order to help those in need of healing, a door can be opened, even if slightly ajar.

For Vlad, that may just take a bit longer and that's completely understandable.

Vlad can't have the kind of relationship he wants with this Danny, but maybe one day, they can be equals - friends.

Like christ, I think this is the first time Vlad has actually, genuinely asked if Danny was alright.

The comic was already good prior to this, but just knowing - understanding that Vlad was more than "a villain" - meant after fifteen looooong years, we finally see the promises of a brighter future for a man with shitty priorities, but a sympathetic goal.

"It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it? It's over, isn't it..."

#danny phantom #vlad masters #neoyi talks #comics #a glitch in time #a glitch in time spoilers #yeah this one im tagging #this essay is over a 1000 words it's pathetic

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triptychgardener · 2 months

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Hello sorry if this is a bother but I am asking in good faith where is the reading for transmasc nepeta. I’m asking this cuz of your last ask (the June one) and I see aradia Dirk and Jane. Thoes all I have seen post and analysis about. But I have not really seen anything about nepeta.

Okay so first thing you gotta understand is that gender in Homestuck, for lack of a better way to say it, can be understood in how characters reflect and relate to each other. That being said to understand Nepeta's gender, we gotta understand the gender of at the very least one other person.

Dave.

And more specifically.

Davepeta, Homestuck's very own first(ish) trans character.

Davepeta is noted to be a sort of platonic ideal of existence for both Dave and Nepeta. Somehow, through a strange series of cosmic coincidences, these two end up making an odd sort of parallel. Both having a strange relationship to a man who loves him some goddamn horses. The whole Akwete Purrmusk thing. I mean, Dave canonically engaged in semi-nonironic furry roleplay with Nepeta offscreen, and given what we know about what becoming a furry in Homestuck means, it's not a leap to describe this as their ideal form.

But, although we don't see a lot of Nepeta's character arc, we do see a lot of Dave's. He struggles his whole life under an incredibly oppressive masculine force (both of Bro and, indirectly, Lord English), and once the game is over ends up deconstructing and largely rejecting that.

So when Davesprite, who's also probably been thinking about this for even longer, bereft of purpose or identity, finds a kindred soul in a spunky catgirl... well the rest is Davepeta.

And similarly, there are points in the story where Nepeta acts kind of uncomfortable with how others see her as exclusively something to be protected. The whole "Dear, sweet, precious Nepeta" grates on her early on, as Equius uses it as an excuse to control her actions. The whole of moiraillegience as it is originally explained (i.e. one party helps to calm down an especially brutal and violent person from outbursts of anger, and in turn that person will protect the more docile, even-tempered soul from external harm) even kind of FEELS like the way heterosexual relationships are portrayed in a lot of conservative spaces, where women are nuturers and caretakers while men are protectors. And Nepeta is supposed to, in this situation, be the person who helps Equius manage his emotions, which she feels some consternation at!

Now, over the course of Hivebent, their relationship appears to evolve and get a bit more balanced, but it still carries these overtones of "I will protect you, and you will handle my outbursts." Notably, when Equius goes to seek the Highb100d, and leaves Nepeta behind.

And of course not after roleplaying as each other.

Which. I mean come on.

But notably, Nepeta doesn't just stay put! She doesn't really want to be protected all the time! And when push comes to shove, she leaps out to defend, or at the very least avenge, her best friend.

And then, we don't really see Nepeta for a while!

Until we get to the end of the comic.

During their whole "date", Nepeta seems a little uncomfortable with Jasprose's affections. She may be a bit flattered, but Jasprose also fully admits later that she was frankly looking for any girl she could fall in love with after the tragic death of her girlfriend and possible more tragic untimely resurrection.

But then the pivotal handshake happens, and we get to see who is perhaps the most happy being in all of Homestuck.

Then we get into some of the only actual discussion of gender in Homestuck. We don't get much besides that, for both of their lives, Dave and Nepeta both felt something was missing. Something felt wrong that they couldn't quite place that made them both miserable. I don't think it's a massive stretch to say this could be gender dysphoria.

And when they combine, they feel the fullness of the gendered experience they were missing, melded together like a two-piece puzzle.

Now while the abovementioned "strong identities as a boy and a girl" might throw you off, I would point to what Victoria Lacroix said about this passage: note the lack of the word "respectively." I rest my case.

Now full disclosure, my personal headcanon for Nepeta is genderfluid transmasc. The whole affinity for roleplaying lends itself to a more shifting identity and I just think Nepeta, given more time, would love exploring the little nooks and crannies of gender.

This isn't going into the more complicated shit with Gender when it comes to Equius and Dirk and all that other stuff. Here's a quick summary so you can see exactly how my brain is broken.

Anyways, thanks for the question! I hope I answered my thoughts on the topic adequately! If other people have more to say about this, please feel free to add on!

#whoof this was a long one #asks #anon

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reiderwriter · 9 months

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Could you do a story with Spencer and fem reader that is also in the Bau and they are in a relationship but then spencer finds out that she hid Emily’s death from him and they are arguing about it? But not breaking up :)

A/N: Thank you for the request! I think this turned out more comfort than hurt, so my apologies if you were looking for something angstier ㅠ^ㅠ

Word count: 0.7k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, spoilers for season 6/7 (Ian Doyle arc).

Here's my masterlist, my requests are open~

You could tell he was angry by the set of his jaw, by the heads up that JJ had given you, and by the fact that he hadn’t crawled into your bed at all for the last week. To say that finding out that Emily had been alive when you’d all buried her was a lot to take in for Reid was an understatement.

Finding out that you, his girlfriend of almost an entire year, had known the entire time hadn’t exactly gone well.

The first day, he couldn’t even look at you. A week in, and you were desperate to have his arms wrapped around you again, and you found yourself pushing him into an interrogation room while on a case, forcing the confrontation that had been brewing this entire time.

“Spencer, goddamn it, look at me, please,” you begged the man, desperate for him to finally hear you out.

“Y/N, we are working a case, this is not the time, and frankly this is highly unprofessional.” He refused to meet your eyes, instead shooting off his looks to the floor, making to turn his back on you.

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I’ve apologised a million times, so has JJ, so has Hotch. You know we couldn’t say anything.”

“There was a lot you could have said, actually, Y/N. How about, ‘hey, Emily’s alive,’ for one!” His tone was mocking but you knew the hurt ran deep.

“I was following orders, Spencer.”

“I shouldn’t be an order, Y/N, I’m your boyfriend, not an assignment.” His words cut and you felt the tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Spencer, we only started dating a few weeks before everything happened, I was…” you had to take a deep breath to calm yourself down before you finally admitted your fears out loud.

“I was afraid you didn’t actually love me. That I came along at a convenient time, and that you just needed the comfort I was giving you, and that if you knew that Emily was alive, you’d realise that I wasn’t actually worth that much to you and you’d leave.” Your voice shook with the effort it took to get the words out, but you finally felt his gaze on yours.

“So yes, I followed orders, Spencer. But I was scared and afraid, and we’d already lost Emily and I couldn’t lose you, too.” You finally drew your gaze up to meet him, and almost let out a gasp at the expression on his face, heartbreak so clearly depicted you wanted to ball him up in your arms and hold him.

It was when he crossed the room and did just that for you, circling you in his hold and squeezing you as tight as was comfortable that you realised his heart was breaking for you, that his expression was a reflection of your own.

“I may still be angry for a while, okay, it’s a lot to process, but I need you to listen to me.” He whispered the words into your hair, having tucked your head into his neck, letting you bury your face from view.

“I love you. I have been in love with you for three years. Secretly, at first when I thought you didn't feel the same, and then when you did, it felt like coming home. So nothing, not even this is going to stop me from loving you.” Another sob wracked through your body, but he kept his hold of you.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you have kept me in one piece for the last year and I can only imagine how hard that was for you.”

He pulled away from you slightly, letting his hand cup your face as he forced you to look up into his eyes.

“It’s just going to take some time, but I’m yours, and that’s not going to change.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips and then pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and just holding you to him.

With that promise, your mind eased up, and you stood there with him; grateful for his presence and his love.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #criminal minds angst #Requested

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lilac-5ky · 1 year

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Roommates from Hell, pt.1 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 1: Stolen Fries taste best

(pic from loving yamada at lvl999, adorable manga, recommend)

Chapter 2 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

Plot: Out of all the women that come and go in Toji's life, you're the only one he calls his friend. But when he suddenly forces his way into your apartment, the feelings you've kept from him are put to the test.

Setting: Pre Hidden Inventory Arc. Toji and reader are both in their late twenties, no Megumi in picture... yet :p

Themes: Cohabitation, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers

Warning: Slight sexual content minus the actual smut.

A/N at the bottom

“You’re late. Again.”

The small silver bell at the top of the glass door notified you of a man’s arrival, his heavy steps refusing to wipe themselves upon entry, spreading mud all over the now-blotted checkered tiles of the dimly lit diner. You’d been expecting the owner of those shoes for the past six hours, his untimely arrival coming as a bitter aftertaste to an afternoon full of childish joy and mayhem— popped balloons, colorful confetti, and half-eaten pieces of cakes swept into one big pile at the room’s southernmost corner by yours truly.

“I never said I was coming,” the voice retorted, its defiant sound overshadowed by the gruesome screech of a metallic chair. “Not interested in celebrating some brat’s b-day, ‘specially if it ain’t mine.”

“How many helpless children must have spent their birthdays without their no-good father, I wonder,” you wiped your hands against your cherry-red apron, pushing the broom back into place. “If your goal is to repopulate Japan, I’m certain you’ll succeed.”

Hefty fingers mindlessly combed through a head of obsidian black, little spikes forming and then settling back down. “None, as far as I’m concerned,” sarcasm dripped from his tongue.

“Well, I find that hard to believe,” you mumbled under your breath, circling through the room to ensure everything was dealt with: leftovers in the fridge, gift wrappings in the bin, and the large aforementioned pile of garbage waiting to be scooped up. “You’ve known Kenzo since birth. Even if this ain’t your thing, the least you could’ve done was make an appearance. He kept asking about his favorite uncle all night long.”

“Except I’m not his uncle. Don’t mix me in with your sister’s family, I ride solo.”

Sigh.

“My sister’s family might as well be your family, Toji. You know how much Hinata and her kids adore you.”

“Good for them, I suppose.”

Another sigh.

“Can you at least tell me what was so important for you to not even pick the goddamn phone up?”

As if the device had grown sentient, a generic tune began tooting from the back pocket of his sweatpants, eradicating your final hope that it’d simply run out of battery.

Without budging from his seat, Toji twisted an arm around his back to pull his flip-phone out, the silver-tinted lid slamming shut as soon as he’d peered at the caller’s number, his next immediate move being to drown the sound in a glass of leftover Coke, fizzy bubbles playing the device’s final requiem.

You didn’t need to ask to know it was a woman, and he didn’t need to answer that she, whatever the name of his latest conquest was, happened to also be the reason for his being unfashionably late.

It was always like that. He was always like that. He went out with one girl after the other; from women of extreme beauty and poise to mindless bimbos who couldn’t tell tea leaves and coffee beans apart. He’d spend some cash to butter them up with expensive meals at overpriced restaurants, or VIP entrance at the hottest club, or even pay for the name tag on their designer clothes, but come next morning, he was either caught stealing straight out of their pockets or checking whether the tag was still attached to the dress for him to return it to the store—at which point, the vast majority gave up, except for those few poor souls who earnestly believed they could fix him, though they never would.

If there were two things in this world that remained unfaltering and resolute throughout the eons, then that was the earth’s orbiting the sun, and Zen’in Toji’s being the bastard of a man you knew and loved— special intonation of that last part.

It was quite the oxymoron. To know him as an irredeemable scumbag with no intention of changing, and to love him for all he was; a sentence as contradictory and controversial as the man before you. What was there to love? He never gave two shits about the people around him dying, and if he could encourage or partake in their deaths then he certainly would. He gambled every cent of cash in his hands away, and his every attachment ended with the disposal of his used-up condom. He was vulgar, cynical, and brass, and he possessed a great charisma of making people dislike him at first glance. His only saving grace was his good looks and even those he managed to scrape on a daily basis.

So, really, what was there to love about a man whose place fitted best among the pile of garbage in the corner? What was the point in all that?

He never answered your question, and when you realized he wasn’t planning to, you dragged a second chair to his side, propping your elbows first and then your chin over the vinyl backrest, feet landing at each side. You took in his expression— sour and undeniably agitated, with a frown tugging at the scarred corner of his lower lip, and a glare too icy to be meant for the wall of American-styled neon billboards he mercilessly studied. Something definitely bothered him, and as a huff stiffened his chin, the reason became evident enough for you to point at it.

“Woman or work?” you gestured at the blood that dribbled below his ear and down his neck.

He followed your forefinger with his eyes, thumb scrubbing where the gush began. He seemed oblivious to his injury, though it wasn’t as if his becoming aware changed a thing.

“So it is a woman,” you gladly seized the chance to rub salt into his wound, drawing a frustrated grumble from him.“What did you do this time? Stole her car and crashed it into a tree? Blew all her savings on cockfight betting?”

“Horse races,” he had the nerve to correct.

“Or… did you by any chance bring an uncalled ménage à trois to her bed?”

“What kind of man you take me for?” Toji protested.

“A very, very, veeeery bad man,” you smirked, and he returned it. You knew him like the back of your hand. There was no need to pretend otherwise after well over a decade’s worth of friendship.

“If a very bad man is what I am, then why’d ya let me in?” he asked. “A young unprotected woman all by herself in the middle of the night letting such scum in never ends well. Thought you were smarter than this.”

“If I was smarter, then I wouldn’t be calling you my friend, would I?”

His grimace turned into a full-blown devilish grin, the kind that secretly had your heart buzzing against the frail set of bones of your chest. He always looked so dazzling when he smiled, that sometimes you couldn’t find fault in those women wanting to believe in his pretty lies, because you, too, wanted to. You hoped that whatever the price for those smiles was, you would one day be able to afford it and gain ownership of his heart, no matter how wretched or blackened it was.

“You are a real idiot to mix it up with me,” he conceded. “Though, you are a greater idiot for letting that term define us. I bet your nights serving meals at some kiddie place get rather lonely. But I could help. I could make you feel really good, Y/N. So good that you’d risk some prick getting in, lest he is me.”

His tongue poked out his mouth, giving his bottom lip a brief lick while he peered at you through half-lidded eyes. He had this way of turning things sexual in the blink of an eye, selling himself so well that your refusal to buy seemed commendable— despite the unmistakable affection you held for his face. Little did he know how much you longed to push that chair to the side and rip his cocky expression along his black-sleeved shirt off his body, making it so that neither of you had a place to hide from the other.

Now, that’d feel good.

“My nights are fine as they are, thank you very much,” you countered your instincts much to his disappointment. “And if I ever needed myself a helping hand, know that you’d be the last I’d call!” Not as if you’d pick up, anyway, you mentally added.

His gust of interest fizzled out as soon as it surged, your rejection forcing him to rock back and forth between the chair’s legs. He wasn’t interested in continuing this. It was enough for him to take in the dusty pink shading of your ears and smile to himself, knowing you were still the kind of woman affected by his charms. Yes, that certainly was enough, for now.

“I’ll clean you up,” you declared, getting off your spot in haste and strolling through the bar in search of a clean towel.

Once you found it, you let it soak under the faucet and brought it back to him, rubbing against his skin regardless of his petty attempt at gritting his teeth. You placed one hand on his shoulder and another at his jaw, pushing them apart to no avail. Every muscle in his body was stronger than your entire bodily force combined, and he was awfully willing to flex that difference between you, just as he was at letting you straddle his hips and climb all over his body like some sort of feral monkey in heat.

A string of profanities that ranged from “bastard” to “shit-eating-asshole-shithead” poured out your mouth while Toji smirked, and smiled, and grinned, and didn’t even try to stop you from knocking the two of you onto the ground, palms barely managing to stable your head over his face. Your pleated skirt had risen, or rather flipped, over your panties, revealing the strawberry pattern panties you were wearing to his greedy hands as they hiked up your flesh without an ounce of shame.

“Wh-What are you doing?!”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he cooed, burying his calloused fingers under the elastic waistband of your underwear.

You felt him trace the inward of your thighs in languid strokes, the fabric stretching the further his hand dipped— closer, and closer to your now-pulsing core, but never so close as to make actual contact. His hot breath tingled your lips, smelling of nothing in particular, but a sweaty tang of a woman’s deodorant that still lingered in his clothes. Had he fucked her before making it here, you wondered, heart tightening at the thought.

Your legs wiggled shut, unable to fully repel his hand, and for a brief moment, you considered letting him go through with this— whatever this was. Even if you came to be another conquest won, you didn’t care. All you needed was for him to hush all logic from your brain, and fuck you senselessly against the checkered tile floor of the “kiddie food place” you served meals at.

“Toji…” you begged, uncertain what you were begging him for until you felt the warmth in your thighs subside.

“Makin’ sure to preserve your maiden’s dignity,” he said as he fixed your skirt in place. “Wouldn’t want some perv catching sight of your cute little ass, would we?”

His condescending tone made you want to throw a slap across his face and then yours; for thinking that maybe this wasn’t a mistake, that you could really move past the pretense of friendship and aim at what you really sought. But he’d been right once before. You were stupid, stupider than all those girls combined, considering you knew and still wouldn’t mind being dragged down with him one bit.

“Fucking asshole,” you blurted as you pushed yourself off him, dumping the cloth on his smug face.

Your lip quivered as you stepped onto your feet, unable to quite shake the feeling of incompletion from your core, walls pathetically clenching around nothingness. You refused to look at him, lest you caved in a second time, and thus you paced around the booths, stopping before the one window whose blinds didn’t block the magnificent parking lot view. Only a black SUV was left— most likely his newest rental.

Following a beep, you watched the lights flicker white, his reflection in the window lifting the chair back up. You crossed your arms over your chest and waited, your impatience and frustration churning into a dangerous mix within your guts, as the asshole whose name wasn’t worth saying moved past you and walked straight to the door, not a single word or goodbye said.

“What about your phone?” you asked, at last paying him a look of spite.

“I’ll text ya my new number.”

“We both know you won’t.”

He glanced over his shoulder and showed you his pearly white canines, his expression not polished enough to be called a smile. You rolled your eyes in the opposite direction, spotting his old device blinking a variety of different lights, refusing to die just like its bastard of an owner.

“What should I do with this?”

“How the hell should I know?” Toji shrugged. “Get rid of it, or toss it in some burger. I’m sure no one will be able to tell the difference. Later,” the bell chimed as the door collided with the frame, chiming a second time as his head popped in a moment later. “Loved the raspberries.”

“They were strawberries, you scatterbrained swine,” you cursed, but he’d heard none of it. The car was gone, and so was he, and it was for the best that he didn’t get to witness the strawberry-colored shadow that loomed over both your cheeks.

Fanning some of that heat away, you returned to the table, surprised to find a white envelope with the name Kenzo hastily written on the front. Cash. Lots of cash. Enough cash to keep a low-end apartment afloat for at least a couple of months. An excuse and simultaneously the answer to all your previous questions.

“You fucking bastard,” you hummed, the term switching to one of utter endearment.

When the first instance of a wintry breeze came charging at the semi-exposed features of your face—a scarf’s fluff tucked right below your nose— you knew that walking all the way to the location where the unknown ID claiming to be Zen’in Toji ordered you to meet up was probably a bad idea.

For starters, you’d turn into an icicle long before making it back to your workplace. Not to mention you had no foolproof way of guaranteeing the person you were about to meet wasn’t some random impersonating psychopath. But when you finally spotted the yellow curvy “M” upon the rectangular red sign that spelled the fast food chain’s name, you narrowed down the psychopaths to that one cheapskate you happened to know.

Walking into the nearly vacant dining area —only the first two booths near the door occupying a family of four each— you detected him almost immediately. He was the only one seated in his wing. Head slightly tilted to look past the window, golden highlights showering the curve of a nose as it arched into thin eyebrows, calm eyes glinting with subtle emerald, and fingers that absentmindedly tapped away onto one of the two paper-covered trays. He had the decency to wait for you before getting into his food, though that didn’t stop him from munching on the occasional fry.

You tugged the handbag off your shoulder and slowly approached him, hesitating to enter his field of view, if just for a moment. He seemed so peaceful and serene, that if you had the guts, you’d snap a picture of him right then and there and make it into your phone’s wallpaper. But you didn’t. You’d never be able to explain it to him in a non-humiliating way, should he catch you in the act, and so, you shook the notion off and marched in his direction, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“What’s the point of calling me out here for lunch if we are gonna have burgers?” you dropped your bag at the far end of the table. “Why not eat at our place?”

“I like the fries here better,” he bit onto one as if to affirm his claim, licking the salty essence off his fingers. “You should be glad I got you some, too,” he nodded toward the closed dome-shaped box that lay in front of you. “Nuggets over burgers, right? Didn’t know what toy ya wanted though. Cashier girl told me bunnies are quite popular with girls your age, so I went with that.”

Ignoring, or rather postponing your answer to his outrageous suggestion, you peered through the contents of your meal’s box, spotting the wrapped-in-plastic purple-colored bunny key chain right at the bottom between the small portion of deluxe potatoes and even smaller portion of chicken nuggets that still steamed hot air. You were surprised he remembered everything about your order, down to your preference for milkshake over other beverages, and perhaps you would have shown your gratitude if it wasn’t for that last comment of his gnawing at your pride.

“How old did you tell the cashier I was, again?” you gritted, trying to suppress the toy’s cuteness within your fist.

“Didn’t. Just said it’s for some kid I know. Probably thought it was for my daughter or something.”

A pair of googly eyes popped out from their sockets, the bunny’s head in serious danger of coming right off.

“Stop acting like an old man,” you muttered in embarrassment. “A nine-month head start in life doesn’t make you old enough to be my father.”

“Still older than you, kid,” said Toji, his fingers latching onto his wrapped-up burger. “Now eat up. Didn’t pay ya lunch for it to go cold.”

Annoyed by his remarks, but oh-so terribly starved, you decided to let things slide, the two of you lunching in a period of temporal truce. He went through his burger in big bites, clearing it out before you even finished your portion of nuggets. You mildly wondered why he’d held off if he was this hungry, but didn’t press on the reason behind his invitation until after his tray was half-emptied.

“So… why’d you wanna meet up? Got something to tell me?”

“Mhm, I actually do. How would you like us to be room—Nah, that doesn’t sound too right,” Toji shook his head off, dusting the excess salt off his fingers. “I decided I’m moving in with you.”

“You, what?!?” You shrieked, eyes wide with shock, resembling those of your newly acquired key chain.

“What I just said. I’m moving in,” he repeated as if you hadn’t heard him the first time around. “Got everything right here. I’ll pop by later so you can show me my room.”

You glanced down at what he tapped as “here”, spotting a large black duffel bag that rested on his feet. He wasn’t joking, you panicked. He was being 100% serious about this. Directing your milkshake to your mouth, you took a nervous sip, nearly choking on the plastic straw between your teeth, while Toji kept staring at you, awaiting no answer in particular. After all, he wasn’t asking. He was proclaiming.

“Why would you want that?” you asked once you regained the ability to think rationally. “Weren’t you the one who said you ride solo?”

“Numerous reasons,” he stated, drawing his forefinger forth as if to recount. “For starters, rental prices going up, gas too. Inflation in the market and all that crap. Your place is also closer to work, and” he leaned closer, “wasn’t your neighborhood the one on the news recently? You know, those serial break-and-enter cases? As far as I’m aware, the culprit’s still running loose, could be a cursed spirit or something. You can’t see ‘em, but I can. I’ll keep ya safe. Wouldn’t you want that? Sounds like a fair deal to me, at least.”

The repetitive pattern of a catchy pop song blasting from the speakers served as a backdrop to your thoughts, eyes flickering between the table and his face. He wasn’t exactly wrong about what he said. The girl next door was the robber’s last victim, and from what you’d gathered, it seemed like the ones targeted were exclusively single women in their twenties. Curse or not, that was the intruder’s type, and you just so happened to tick both of those boxes.

From a standpoint of reason, his suggestion sounded fair alright, but this was Toji we were talking about. The man whose name was your first thought in the morning and the final afterthought in the night. The man you were coincidentally in love with.

Living with him would entail being around him a lot more than you could handle. Waking and sleeping and eating in the same house as him, spending your days off together, bickering about bills, take-out, and the TV remote’s ownership, doing things that only couples got to do, and of course, sharing a bathroom, which on its own meant seeing him parade through the cramped little space of your apartment in nothing but a soggy towel, hair slick and teeth beaming as he’d be asking if you’d like to join him in the shower—

You hit the break on these thoughts and pressed your forehead flat against both palms, feeling the heat exuding through your fingers. You were only able to keep this relationship platonic because of the distance he put between you. If he were to suddenly close it, what would come of you? How on earth would you be able to hold back?

“Don’t you want me?”

“Huh?” you bit at the straw again, snapping it in half.

“I said, you hate the idea of living with me that much?”

Toji certainly didn’t mince his words, but the way he was looking at you, brows furrowing and lips quivering into a frown despite the edge in his tone, almost made it seem as if hearing your rejection out loud would hurt him, and because of that, you had no choice, but to shake your head in denial. You wanted this. More than words could express, you wanted to be with him like that, even if you refrained from disclosing that truth.

You wanted him.

“What about your girlfriends? Wouldn’t they be against you living with some woman?”

“Nah, I’m done with that. Done with all of ‘em.”

“But my apartment is too small. I don’t think it’d suit you—”

“I’ll manage,” he cut you off.

“I don’t even have a second bed-”

“We can always share,” he smirked, letting out a light-hearted chuckle as he watched color paint your cheeks. “Couch is fine, too. So, whaddya say, roomie?”

“…Fine,” you conceded, very well knowing you’d come to regret this decision. “But we need to set some ground rules! No trashing the apartment, no throwing your ‘work tools’ all over the place, no smoking, no drinking, no loud music, and no bringing in random women. No starting fights either! You’ll help around and pay half of what’s needed, so no gambling your money away. Those are my terms.”

“You drive a hard bargain, roomie,” Toji said, balancing his chin atop his elbow. “Fine by me. Told you I’m done with half those things anyway, and I don’t mind helping you with anything. I mean that.”

But I could help. I could make you feel really good, Y/N.

His words from that night still lingered in your mind like an unfulfilled promise, and when he phrased it like that, you couldn’t help but be reminded of how good his hands felt that night, creeping all over your skin as if he owned it— as if he owned you.

“G-good!” you said, picking up a fry off his tray and tossing it in your mouth, lest you said something stupid.

“No one taught you stealing other people’s food is rude?” Toji shot you a glare unequal to your crime.

“It’s not stealing if you are done with it!” you protested. “You haven’t touched your fries in over ten minutes now.”

His tongue clicked against his mouth’s roof, producing a series of “tsk” sounds while he shook his head in disapproval. “Didn’t take ya for such a brat, Y/N. Disrespecting me in my face right after we came to an agreement? That’s some bad business ethics.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, barely keeping yourself from groaning. “I’m so terribly sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have stolen your esteemed fries, sir. Won’t ever happen again, sir. Please allow me to express my profound remorse, sir.”

Although Toji knew you only addressed him as such to get on his nerves, he was still pleased enough to grace with you an unsuspecting smile, seconds before you shoved a ketchup-covered potato against his mouth, smudging the left corner of his lips in a way akin to that of his right corner scar. He blinked, clouds of fury gathering in the bleakness of his eyes and cheeks puffing up, painting the most adorable expression you’d ever seen him wear.

“So cute,” you gushed, unable to suppress a hearty laughter that agitated him even more, red blooming across his cheeks— most likely by the lack of oxygen, you interpreted.

“Fucking brat,” he hissed, dipping the last of his fries in ketchup and then stuffing your mouth with it before you could even react. “I’ll show ya how it’s done!” he declared, your lips puckering against his fingers, condiment spreading all over like lipstick. His other hand forced your head in place, stilling your chin for him to work on his masterpiece, making a much bigger mess out of you than you had made of him.

“Hmphmmph!” you hummed while Toji laughed, a deep sound that reverberated straight from his guts, his eyes glinting along with his teeth in sheer joy that convinced you to give up so as to not spoil his fun. It was rare to see him genuinely happy.

“That should teach ya to behave,” he spat, smugness in every aspect of his features as he pressed his thumb onto his mouth, cleaning the ketchup off with a lick. “But you did address me properly, so you’ve earned the right to choose. Napkin or my lips? Which one?”

Stupefied as you were, you didn’t understand the full context of his question until you felt the sudden warmth of his mouth flutter over your skin, the tip of his tongue sloppily gathering the leftover ketchup off your right cheek. Your jaw popped open, a small gasp escaping as a result of his action.

“Too slow,” Toji whispered, hooded green eyes peering right into yours. “I’ll ask again. Napkin or my lips? What’s it gonna be, doll?”

“N-n-n-napkin!” you must have stuttered at least a thousand times before forming a comprehensible answer. He was so close that if he tilted his head any closer your lips were sure to touch. “P-please get me a napkin.”

“Please?” he chuckled, acting as if was really going to kiss you and then pulling away. “Be right back.”

Even after Toji let go, you could still feel the weight of his thumb holding you down, your eyes zeroing in on his black sweater as he set off for the other side of the room where the napkin and condiments stand was located. You heard a few whispers coming from beside your table, catching three pairs of eyes shooting daggers right at your back.

“Don’t they have a home?” a woman’s voice echoed first.

“Kids these days…” a man added.

“Honey, don’t look at their sinfulness, it’s the devil’s work.” A second woman concluded.

You were on the verge of experiencing a cardiac arrest, and you were pretty darn sure you would have if Toji hadn’t returned with the napkins in time, his hand snatched by yours as you forcefully dragged him out of the place, spelling frantic apologies at whoever was listening.

Once you’d made it outside, you sighed in relief, winter’s viciousness coming as a much-needed slap across your face. You took in a few breaths, letting go of his hand and padding a few steps away from the store’s windows, afraid you were still the focus of their attention. Toji followed, one hand stuffed inside his jeans pocket, while the other held the duffel bag over his shoulder in a lazy manner.

“Can you give me a lift to work?” you managed to ask, dodging his stare even as he stepped to the front.

“I would, but I can’t. Gave the car away.”

“You did what?”

Nothing about your reaction was funny in any shape or form, but he seemed amused enough to break into a soft chuckle, his eyes, too, softening ever so slightly.

“Planning to walk around town like a bloodsucker?” he asked, bringing a napkin to wipe your lips with greater care than you’d think. “How dirty,” he cooed, gently tapping at the center. “Next time, I won’t ask for permission to kiss you, roomie. Let’s go.”

“W-Where?” your voice came out so frail that you doubted he’d heard your question, his bag bouncing over his taut body with every step he took outside the parking lot.

“You asked for a ride, didn’t ya? Come.”

A/N: Launching a new series because I have so many feelings bottled up that I'm in danger of farting hearts and rainbows and shit. Decided to take the time off and write this fic for myself cause I needed it, but then I thought why not share it with the world? First time writing for Jujutsu Kaisen and Toji in particular, so hopefully it's received well!

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sarah-yyy · 6 months

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Jie jie are you going to do a rec post for SOKP?

aight!! i got this ask two?? three?? weeks ago, but never got round to doing this because work has been fdjkhdsghskjf, but here y'all go

what: period cdrama // completed // 38 eps, roughly 40 mins each (+ one bonus epilogue ep, about <10 mins) where: iqiyi (standard disclaimer that i don't watch with subs so i don't speak to the quality of eng subs)why: villain (of sorts) reincarnation fix-it, what's there not to like?? incredibly attractive cast.

this is jiang xuening. she is, as you can probably guess, the empress. there's been a coup. it's headed by her ex-best friend (who was in love with her until his family got massacred and she chose to leave him to pursue her dream to be empress) who resents her + a bloodthirsty advisor to the emperor. the only man she's ever loved (not the emperor ofc) hates her and is in prison because of her. her life is hell. she knows she has no way out. she trades her life for her imprisoned lover-

-and wakes up 18 again.

because jxn is not stupid, now that she's got a chance to do things again, she immediately decides this time she's going to do better!!

firstly!! she's going to be good to her bff yan lin!!

yan lin's family was massacred before?? not this fucking time!! not on jxn's watch!! she's got a few months to get her shit together and fix this for him!!

"this sounds too easy, sarah, it's a reincarnation fix-it, she's got cheat codes," you say? you're wrong. did you expect jxn to pay attention to anything in her first life beyond clawing her way up to the position of empress?? hell no. she knows the what, the when and the how - she's missing so much of the whys, which is probably important if she wants to stop it from happening.

in the meantime!! my girl's got other problems to deal with!!

in her first life, she died a really goddamn tragic life in the palace. when she was rebooted into life #2, she made the decision to stay tf away from the palace and everyone associated with it. no jxn in palace = no jxn dying in the palace. easy peasy!! foolproof. no way she can mess this up.

she ends up in the palace as the princess's study buddy 🥰 ofc she does, because jxn just can't get a goddamn break. thank you yan lin and co for meddling. 😊

while she's there, she accidentally seduces befriends the princess.

princess was in love with a crossdressing jxn in life #1 and got Really Pissed Off about it when she found out jxn was in fact not the man of her dreams (or a man at all). she made jxn's life in the palace hell in life #1.

jxn: this time around i just won't dress as a man!! no male!jxn = no princess falling in love!! princess: fool. this time i'll love the female you 🥰

ykw? works for jxn. as long as she's not dying, everything is fine. girlfriend +1 it is then!!

while we're on the topic of sorting out her relationships while she's in the palace, let's talk a little bit about zhang zhe, aka the only man she ever loved in life #1

this is zhang zhe, low ranking officer in the ministry of justice. as straight-laced as they come. excellent cheekbones. in life #1, had a Soft Spot for jxn and did some stuff against his conscience for her. in this life, she's determined not to ruin him!! he's like her 白月光

ANYWAY these two meet again in the palace when he saves her life when she's being framed for treason. immediately, jxn is all 😍🤩 over him again. why would she not!! he was her biggest regret in life #1!! she literally died to save him!! (for those of y'all who expect to have SL syndrome over him, prepare to be WELL-FED, these two have a long arc)

alright y'all know how i said jxn was in the palace to be the princess's study buddy? well!! let's meet their teacher:

xie wei. advisor to the emperor. resting bitchface 10/10. petty af. occasionally feral and murderous 🥵. they were sort of briefly acquainted way back when they travelled to the capital together and jxn saved his life when he was having an Episode (long story short, bb boy is Unwell). the last face jxn saw in life #1 when she took her own life. you guessed it, he's aka the bloodthirsty advisor who staged the coup in life #1.

jxn is (rightfully) quite afraid of him. she tries her best to stay out of his way, but he's trying to sound her out (because she knows his ~secret) to see if she's friend or foe, so they end up in each other's paths more often than not, including important times such as these:

when jxn is trying to thwart a plot to frame yan lin's dad for treason

when xie wei is committing murder

when jxn is heart broken over zhang zhe

they kind of form an alliance!! in jxn's mind, xie wei and yan lin staged the coup together in life #1, so their interests must sort of be aligned!! plus!! xie wei is hella smart!! he'll know what to do to stop yan lin's family from getting masacred!!

ANYWAY that's the gist of the story - i've avoided most of the spoilery parts i think.

there's also the typical cdrama villains you'd expect in a show like this: evil empress dowager, power-hungry prime minister, spoiled brat daughter of the prime minister who is also scheming to be queen, evil uncle of the king trying to usurp the throne etc etc. all the things you need to prop the Palace Evil Schemes up.

i've seen some people say this is a 低配 version of love like the galaxy, which, ykw? fair. 😂 lltg is written better. sokp was a fun watch, though!! y'all know i am into reincarnation plots, and am basically predisposed to liking most of bai lu's dramas. and!! this show ends on such a good note!! i've been tricked into so many ~vague endings this year that this was so so so good to get <3

some of the parts dragged a bit for me (i am p meh about zhang zhe, i mean i get the appeal, but he's not doing it for me), but it wasn't bad! i liked xie wei's character enough to sit through a lot of things. could've done with like 300% more yan lin and the princess, but we can't always have what we want!!

#story of kunning palace #sokp #宁安如梦 #cdrama #tv rec

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 2 months

Text

The Plan [Marcus Pike x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x you/cishet f!reader. Reader is fat/overweight but this is never explicitly mentioned. Also, reader is a lawyer. (I know nothing about lawyering.)

Tags/Warnings: Sad Marcus, alcohol mention, one night stands, fellatio mention, neighbours with benefits, safe sex, squirting, cunnilingus, reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mad dash through the airport at Christmas, trauma dumping (Marcus coming clean about his disappointment after Lisbon dumped him).

Summary: A drunken one night stand with your cute new neighbour Marcus Pike eventually leads to more. Takes place after his story arc in the show.

Words: 7,895

A/N: My first Marcus Pike fic, and also I finished a goddamn fic! There is so much cause for celebration here, folks. Remember to comment and reblog: sharing is caring.

Shout-out to @missredherring and @pazizz who read drafts and helped me forward with this story <3

Marcus Pike does not have a bitter disposition. He does not sulk, or harbor resentment. It's just not in his nature.

Until now.

There is just something so unforgivable, incomprehensible, wrong about the way Teresa Lisbon left him. She called him to say she was coming to D.C., that she would marry him, and two hours later she called again to inform him that she wasn't. That she was in love with Patrick Jane. That asshole.

Marcus has been divorced, and not even that made him spiral as hard as the breakup from Teresa. It just hit harder, because he had fallen so hard for her, for the way she dipped her gaze and chin when a smile broke out on her lips, before looking back up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. He fell for her sense of humor, her intelligence, the way it was so easy to be with her. And he really thought that she fell for him in the same way. Maybe she did - but Jane was there, in the background, confusing her, wooing her with one last big, desperate gesture. If Marcus had known that all it took to keep Teresa was to get himself arrested, he would've done that instead of bringing her takeout at work, making her morning coffee just as she liked it, loaning her his jacket when she was cold during that date, all the thousands of little things that he did for her, that he loved doing for her because he loved her so much that doing those things weren't a chore, they weren't planned, they were an honest, spontaneous expression of his feelings for her.

And then, one big, desperate gesture that rendered Marcus's all small, everyday gestures moot. And it pisses him off.

Practicality kicked in as a form of survival. He quickly cancelled the purchase of the house he had Teresa had picked out, found a condo instead, moved in with his things, and threw himself into his work. Most of the boxes were left unpacked. His place didn't feel like a home because he couldn't let it. He was supposed to share one with Teresa, and now there was just him, surrounded by moving boxes that he had to deal with but couldn't, wouldn't. What should've been a house for the two of them - maybe more in the future? - with a little garden, walls impregnated with love and excitement for a life together, sunlight through the window during long weekend mornings of slow breakfasts, putting up Christmas decorations together, all those things that he was looking forward to. Now he has a bachelor pad, in a fancy apartment building with a doorman, but a sad bachelor pad all the same. The furniture is more or less where it should be, but he hasn't bothered to plan that much. The kitchen table is too big, but he's not in any condition to sell it off and buy a new one. The bookcases are half full, and his artwork is still unhung. He really tried there, but the first painting he got his hands on was one that he had seen before him in the spacious yet cozy living-room in That House, with the fireplace, and suddenly no wall in his apartment was good enough. So he put the painting away, and the rest were left packed down.

He even started going out after work, when he couldn't stay any longer but didn't want to go home. He found a watering hole to his liking, and became a regular, nursing one whiskey after another until he could go home and fall into bed for a deep, dreamless sleep.

It's after one of those nights that he finds you, his neighbor, trying to open his front door with your key. Your clumsy yet meticulous movements tell him that you're intoxicated, and there is something endearing about the way you're frowning, the tip of your tongue sticking out the side of your mouth as you focus on sticking in the key that doesn't fit.

When Marcus comes closer, you notice him, and look up. Quickly registering that it's the workaholic neighbor that you rarely see, you just nod, and go back to trying to open the door.

"That's my door," he says, and you look up again.

"What's that?"

"That's my door. You're trying to get into my apartment."

You frown, your hand holding the key falling to your side as you process his words. You then squint at the number of the door, taking a few seconds to realize that this is, indeed, not your front door.

"Oops," you mutter, then grimace apologetically at your neighbor. "Well, this isn't embarrassing at all."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugs, fishing his own key from his pocket. You step to the side to give him access to the door, and when he stands right next to you, you can smell his cologne, sophisticated and with a hint of bergamot.

He eyes you, just as drunk as you are.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Late night. You?"

"Same." He looks so tired when he says it, but you can tell that there is a dimple aching to appear in his cheek. His face, bleary though it is, is handsome, and looks like it was made for smiling.

"What is it you do again?" you ask. You've exchanged pleasantries with him when he first moved in, but you never had the time or mental capacity to actually remember who he is.

"FBI, I investigate art theft."

"Ah, right." Yeah, that's it, something so unusual and random that one couldn't make it up. Then again, D.C. is full of people who do stuff you only hear about in movies.

"Marcus," he offers his hand, and you take it, and give him your name.

"And what is it that you do?"

"Law. I work with government contracts and related investigations at a law firm here in D.C."

"Sounds complicated."

You shrug. "I'm smart enough."

"You look good, too."

You scoff. "Are you coming on to me?"

"I'm trying." Now the smile breaks through, lighting up his whole face. Gods, but he's cute.

"Okay." You make the decision quickly, nodding at his door. "Looks like I picked the right door, after all."

Marcus unlocks the door and opens it for you.

His head is pounding, and his mouth is dry when he wakes up. For a moment, he doesn't know what day it is, what he's supposed to do, or what happened last night, but then the flashbacks start to put things together. The flirty neighbor. Her naked skin. Her alcohol-fuming kisses.

He turns his head and sees you, still asleep next to him. Oh, okay.

Sitting up slowly, he gets his bearings before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Clothes are strewn over the floor. Right next to the bed is a used condom, tied up and looking sad and abandoned. Okay, good, at least he remembered to use protection. He picks it up and takes it to the bathroom, where he disposes of it before washing his hands and face.

He hears the rustle of bedsheets, and returns to the bedroom, realizing that he's naked. You might not want to be greeted by a naked stranger first thing. Looking around for his underwear, he's nevertheless too slow in finding them: you're already sitting up and rubbing your forehead.

He clears his throat. "Good morning."

Your smile is a little lopsided. "Morning."

"You want breakfast?" Marcus immediately offers, wanting to do the gentlemanly thing before he sends you off so that he can take about ten aspirins, and go to work. "And I'll put out a clean towel for you so that you can use the shower."

"Appreciate it, but I live right next door," you point out as you get out of bed. You're as naked as he is, and Marcus tries very hard not to ogle your body for what he suspects will be the last time.

"I don't mind."

"Thanks, but I have to get to work." You pick up and put on your panties, bra, skirt, shirt. Marcus spots his boxer briefs, and pulls them on.

"Okay, well... I had a good time."

"I did too."

Now you're standing right in front of him, buttoning up your silk shirt. Even with your makeup smudged out, and terrible morning breath, you look really nice.

"I gotta ask you something, though, because my memory is a little... hazy." Your cheekbones seem to glow, and he realizes that you're blushing.

"Yeah?"

"I sucked your dick, didn't I?"

Marcus feels the heat rise to his ears. "Um... well... yes, you did."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Did I do it well?"

"I think so."

You grin at him. "You don't remember much either, do you?"

"It was all consensual, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh, I have no doubt about that." You surprise him by placing your hand on his naked chest. His heart skips a beat, and he hopes that you won't notice.

"I really have to go, but maybe I'll see you again soon?" you ask softly, and Marcus finds himself relaxing.

"I'd like that."

You even kiss him good-bye, a quick, closed-mouth peck to keep morning breaths from mixing, before you grab your shoes, your purse (muttering under your breath about several emails, and two missed calls), and head over next door.

Marcus, still only wearing his underwear, looks thoughtfully at the closed door for a long while before going into the kitchen with the too big table to make coffee.

Work occupies most of your waking hours, six days a week, often seven. You don't see Marcus again for weeks, don't hear any sounds from his apartment during the hours you're home and awake. Barely having time to think about him, your thoughts nevertheless stray to him when you're standing in the shower or going to bed at night. You haven't been able to fit a boyfriend into your life in a long time, and casual hook-ups have rarely left you satisfied, but even with your hazy memories of the night with Marcus, you left his apartment that morning with a feeling that it was good. So that's where your thoughts go when you touch yourself, the few times you have the energy to do so.

One Friday night, after a long but satisfying week that ended with a contract being accepted as it was, which meant you could have a weekend with only a couple of hours of work from home, you're hurrying home with Chinese takeout in a bag. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, with an early morning at the gym the following day, you run into Marcus on your way into your apartment building.

"Hi," you smile, immediately noticing how he seems to square his shoulders when he sees you. "Going out?"

"Yeah," he nods, moving his weight from one foot to the other as he takes in your food bag. "And you're staying in?"

"Finally, a Friday night without work," you acknowledge. Marcus's smile lets you know that he knows about that all too well.

"Enjoy."

"You too, you going somewhere nice?"

"No, I mean... I'm just going by myself."

There is something so despondent about the way he averts his eyes when confessing to going out alone. You're not in a position to start saving people, but you see an opening here.

"Join me for dinner instead, Marcus."

"I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother," you shake your head, now moving towards the elevator while beckoning him to follow you. "Come on, before the food gets cold. There's enough here for two, I always buy extra."

He hesitates for only a split second, you can see it in how his body seems to pull him away, out to some sad bar with too much to drink. Instead, he nods, smiles softly, and follows you. He insists on bringing a bottle of wine from his place, and you accept.

You find out more about him that night, as you share your takeout with him, and he shares his wine. He tells you of heartache, only summarily, clearly not wanting you to feel sorry for him, but you can tell that he's been torn up about the "amicable" break-up. He also mentions that he's been married, and you wonder what's wrong with him. He seems perfectly nice and normal, why hasn't he been able to keep a woman? To his credit, he never complains about nice guys finishing last, only states that maybe he's meant to focus on his career.

"There's a lot to be said about having a good career," you agree. Marcus sips his wine with a small smile.

"Work doesn't break your heart."

"That, too."

"I take it you don't have a partner who'll suddenly come home to find me in his kitchen?" he jokes lightly, but you recognize the question for what it is: he wants to know if you're Seeing Anyone.

"Not one for relationships," you shrug.

"You don't long for anyone to snuggle up with in front of the TV on a Friday night?"

"I don't have time. And they never seem to understand that. Or they're working, too." You pick at the scraps in your takeout box with the chopsticks. "And I seem to attract douchebags. Dunno if it comes with the field in which I work. I always seem to go out with terrible lawyer guys."

Marcus chuckles. "Their loss."

"I miss having sex, though." You look him in the eye, and his tongue slides over his lower lip, catching some runaway sauce.

"Yeah?"

You nod, and feel your cheeks heat up. You're a no-nonsense person, but not always this forward with men. But it's easy with Marcus. He takes it all in stride, doesn't seem to think you're aggressive, or slutty, he just smiles and tells you that he misses sex too.

"But what we had was okay, though?" he adds. "Even if neither one of us seems to remember it that well."

"It was," you agree, raising the glass to your lips and draining the rest of the wine. After putting it back down, you tilt your head and bite your lower lip.

"You wanna do it again? Now that we're sober and all?"

"I'm a little tipsy," he warns you with a chuckle, "But I'm in."

Both of you get up at the same time, chairs scraping the floor simultaneously in the kitchen that mirrors his own but has a table that fits it. All of your apartment just fits in a way his half-assed dwelling doesn't. He realizes that it's because your apartment is a home, decorated and lived-in, warm colors and fabrics, Scandinavian wallpapers in bold but tasteful patterns that he himself would never consider but that feel right here.

You step up to him, snugly fitting yourself to his frame, and place your hands on his narrow hips as you kiss him. The two glasses of wine that you've had have laid a warm, cozy blanket over your busy mind, and now you're fully focused on Marcus, whose soft, plump lips are meeting yours as his arms go around your waist.

You make your way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes as you kiss and get undressed, get undressed and kiss. The bed in unmade, you just threw the covers to the side when you got up this morning. Wearing only your underwear, you lay down, pull Marcus over you, rake your fingers through his hair, moan when he palms your plump tits through the bra.

"Tell me what you like," he asks you hoarsely. You hum when he scatters kisses along the lace trim of your bra.

"That's a good start."

He hums back as he pops your tits out of your bra and lick around the nipples.

"Go on," he asks, and a shiver runs down your spine at the low barytone of his voice. You reach around to unhook your bra, and Marcus takes it off you and flings it to the side before burying his face between your breasts.

"You eat pussy?" you ask him breathlessly, and he looks up at you.

"Of course."

"Not everybody does," you wink, and he shakes his head.

"Their loss."

He's in a hurry, you note, but it's endearing in an unexpected way. When he pulls down your panties and gets settled, your legs over his shoulders, you remember to give him a warning.

"I, uh, I don't orgasm from oral, just so you know."

"Really?" His breath is hot against your folds, but he's looking up at you with attentive eyes.

"Yeah. It's not a comment on your skills, I just need you to know it," you shrug, accustomed to always having to tread carefully around the matter. Too many men get offended or take it as a challenge.

"Thanks for telling me," Marcus smiles in a way that's way too innocent and adorable for a man who's got his face inches away from your pussy. "But do you really want me to...?"

"Oh God, yes!" you reassure him. "I enjoy it a lot, and it gets me wet. I just can't cum, I need vaginal stimulation for that."

"You got it," he pats your thigh lightly before his tongue connects with your folds, and your eyes fall shut as you hand yourself over to the pleasure, to Marcus's deftly dancing tongue. He's good, he's attentive and eager, yet you don't get the feeling that he's trying to prove you wrong, to make you orgasm. Lord knows men have tries that in the past, and it's just stressful. No, he just seems to enjoy your moans, the way you writhe and grab his hands, the twitches of your pelvis when he does something extraordinary.

"Goddddd, Marcus, that's so fucking good..." you wail when he alternates between sucking your clit and licking it with a quick tongue. He's getting louder, sloppier, and you know you're dripping. Your clit is throbbing, and you know this is the perfect time to speed things up. You push him away, your thighs closing around his head, and Marcus retreats, chin glistening as he licks his lips.

"You okay?" he wants to know. You nod, breathless and with a pounding heart.

"Need to fuck you."

He scrambles up for a deep kiss, wet and lewd, before you push him over to get a condom from your nightstand. He drapes himself over you as you stretch across the bed, and peppers your back with kisses, like he's unable to stay away from you. You roll around, finding yourself caged between his strong arms, and you pull him down for more kissing with lips swollen and dry but still wanting more.

"How do you want me?" he gasps between the kisses as you pull down his underwear and paw at his small butt.

"Can I be on top?"

He rolls over onto his back immediately, watching you with open-mouth excitement when you remove his shorts and put on the rubber. When you finally sink down on his length, his fingers dig into your thighs as his breath hitches.

"Oh, that feels good..."

"Uh-huh," you sigh, staying still for a moment to adjust to his cock inside of you. You smile inwardly as you find yourself thinking about just how perfectly sized it is: thick but not too long.

"What?"

Your eyes open to find Marcus grinning at you.

"What what?" you grin back. He caresses your hips slowly.

"You looked like you had something to say."

"I was just thinking about what a perfect, gorgeous dick you have."

His cheeks turn pink. "Thank you. It came with the body."

You chuckle and start a slow grind, hips moving lazily back and forth as you seek out the right spots, the right rhythm. Finding it, you plant your hands on Marcus's chest and let out a low moan as you go slightly faster.

"That right for you?" he huffs, sitting up to catch a nipple in his mouth.

"Mmmfuckyes..."

You drop your hand to where your bodies meet, fingers seeking out your clit. Pleasure zaps through your body when you rub it, and you clench tightly around Marcus, causing him to dig his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, both of you groaning.

"So good," he gripes, soothing the sting of his fingertips by rubbing his palms over the affected areas before he moves his fingers to your front. "Need a hand?"

"'m good," you gasp, your free arm slinging around his neck. You clench around him again, and Marcus's hips jut upwards, slamming into you with a force that makes you choke.

"Fuck! God, Marcus, that was..."

"Can we try something?" he pants, pulling you in for a kiss. "Please?"

"Okay?" you frown, a little frustrated at being interrupted, but Marcus gestures for you to rise, so you do as he asks, and let him pull you down with him.

"Get on top of me again, but lie down," he instructs you. You must look doubtful because he immediately adds:

"Just try it, if you don't like it, we can go back to what you were doing."

"I'll try anything once," you shrug, and get on top of him again, this time with your back turned to him. Marcus pulls you down, positioning you on top of him, legs spread, his own legs on the outside of yours. You hesitate for a second, the reality of your weight sometimes haunting your mind, but Marcus insists.

"Just come here, baby," he tells you softly, so you let him take your weight. One of his arms sneaks up the side of your ribcage to cup a breast. With the other, he guides himself into you, pushing himself in with an upward thrust of his hips. You choke on your breath and let your head hang back on his shoulder, one arm seeking a position to support you, the other coming around Marcus's neck when he presses a toothy kiss to your neck. He thrusts into you again, fingers playing with your nipple, and then his other hand comes to rub your clit.

You keen at the sudden intensity, back arching on top of him, and he plants his feet more firmly on the mattress.

"Fuck," you gasp, "that's good, Marcus, this is good..."

He sucks a kiss to your neck, his teeth stinging just a little, and your legs kick in search of a hold so that you can stay just above him. He slips out, and you whimper.

"Relax," he soothes you, thumb abandoning your clit to instead guide himself back into you. "Put your weight on me, I can take it."

You follow his instructions, back sinking down onto his chest and stomach, pelvis angling slightly to help him stay inside you. His fingers return to tease your clit, and your head falls back onto his shoulder as he settles into a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

"That's it," he praises you, his breath hot against your ear. "Just like that, take it, just enjoy it, let me take care of you."

The slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is maddening in how it pushes at your spot but leaves you wanting more. You buck your hips down eagerly.

"Faster, please, Marcus."

He obeys immediately, moaning at how you immediately clench around him. Your fingers thread through his hair, the other hand fists into the sheets. The pressure on that one spot inside you is growing in intensity, insanely, perfectly, knocking your breath out with each jab of Marcus's cock against it. Your moans become whimpers, a moan too complex a sound for you at this point, when you are so close, so utterly close to the climax that you now need as much as you need air -

The release floods your body and your cunt, and for a split second you're horrified at the wet feeling on your thighs, the rippling sound, until you realize that you squirted. A half moan, half giggle escapes you as you press your thighs together as if to lock in the orgasm that pulsates through your cunt and lower belly. Marcus gasps an excited Fuck, yes before bucking up a couple of errant times, and then relaxing down. He kisses your temple, drags his soaked fingers up over your soft belly, making you squirm.

"Sorry," he murmurs throatily. You murmur something back and slide down next to him. Everything between your legs seems wet and now cold, but you're still prickling all over with excitement.

Marcus heaves a deep sigh before turning his face to you. "That was so hot."

"I didn't know I could do that with a man."

"You haven't before?"

You shake your head. Marcus smiles softly.

"I'm honored. Was it good?"

"Yeah. How about you?"

"So fucking good."

You smile back at him before turning your face back towards the ceiling, and taking a deep breath that you sigh out audibly. Your body relaxes quickly, a muscle in your lower back mutters about the position you just were in, but you feel extremely good, and wrung out in a fantastic way. In the corner of your eye, you catch Marcus taking the condom off, before getting up to take it to the trash. When he returns, he looks around, looking for his clothes. You roll over onto your side.

"You don't have to leave, you know," you tell him quietly. Marcus stops, boxers in hand.

"Yeah?"

"I mean... don't get me wrong, I'm not looking for a relationship," you hurry to assure him. "But I wouldn't mind you staying over. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't."

He drops the boxers, and slides back into bed, next to you. You smile a little wryly.

"The sheets are wet. I'll change them, feel free to grab a shower.

"Soon," Marcus tells you, low voice heavy with a calm confidence. "I suggest we wet them a little more first."

Your deal with Marcus is simple and beautiful: sex, with or without staying the night. The occasional take-out dinner. Quickies when you run into each other in the corridor outside your front doors, with ten minutes to spare. It's undemanding, friendly, mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated, with no romantic feelings involved, so nobody can get hurt.

Marcus is an active lover who smoothly takes charge. Not bossy, but firm and empathic, and not afraid of using aids of different kinds to raise your orgasms to the next level. He's not opposed to fucking you fully clothed in the morning and leaving you wanting as you go to work with his cold cum in your panties, shot there after he removed the rubber after fucking you.

It is, in short, the perfect set-up.

Fall passes by, and you see yourself forced to fly out to see your family over Thanksgiving. You spend as much time as you can working in your childhood room, however. Your parents do not understand your choice of profession, your mother does not see how a woman of your age has chosen to be childless. Your older brother knocked his girlfriend up at sixteen, your younger sister was married at eighteen and divorced at twenty-eight. You love them, but you don't have a lot in common with them, and even if your siblings at least pretend to understand your life choices, their contempt steeped in jealousy of your life shines through at times. Your parents choose to simply ignore the life you have built for yourself in D.C., talking instead about Mrs. McCall next door, Annie down the street, Cybil in town, Kearney at the gas station, as if you knew any of them or cared about what they said about Kayleigh's twins.

You endure for two nights, and text Marcus from the airport, before boarding: I'll be home after nine tonight. You free?

He replies almost immediately: I'll pick you up at the airport.

You text him the flight number before turning off your phone, settling for a three-hour nap in lieu of working.

When you finally land, puffy-faced but breathing freely now that you're back in the city you call home, Marcus is waiting for you in arrivals. The way his smile lights up his eyes when he sees you makes your heart miss a beat. There is something there that's beyond what the two of you have, something much more sincere.

You shake it off and smile back as you walk up to him. He leans forward, like he's about to kiss you, but ends up giving you an awkward half-hug.

"Welcome home."

"Thanks. And thank you for picking me up."

"My pleasure."

The two of you turn and start walking towards the exit. Marcus offers to take your carry-on wheelie bag, but you decline, accustomed as you are to carrying your own luggage yourself.

In the car, he asks you how your Thanksgiving was.

"As holidays at my parents' usually are. One night would've been enough."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. It's just..." You rub your forehead. "Whenever I visit, I feel trapped. Everything back home is... small. People are kind, yes, but they're small-minded. The town is small. The spaces in which to move, physically and mentally, are small. And I feel like some kind of big city snob who comes to visit twice a year, scoffs at their very ordinary and, as far as I know, happy lives, and then flies back to my vegan frappuccinos and twenty-four-hour sushi restaurants."

Marcus chuckles low. "I think I know what you mean. But it's hard for me to imagine that you'd be a snob about anything."

"I probably am. But I... I don't know, I outgrew that town when I was fifteen. Couldn't get out fast enough. And I don't like going back."

"Does your family support your choices?"

You shrug. "Yes and no. Mom and dad are proud, I guess, but at the same time they don't have any idea what it is that I do. 'If you wanted to be a lawyer, couldn't you be one here? Where it's not as stressful and you could start a family, and work normal hours?' As if I could practice the law I'm interested in over there."

"What's the most common type of lawyer in your hometown?"

"General practitioners who do a little bit of everything, wills mostly. And there are three, I think."

"Wow."

"Exactly."

The conversation turns to other subjects as Marcus drives the two of you to your apartment building. As he parks in his spot in the underground garage, you place your hand onto his thigh. He turns off the engine and looks at you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you tell him quietly. His hand comes to rest on top of yours.

"No problem."

"You have any plans for tonight?"

He shakes his head, then leans forward over the middle console as you reach across the same for a kiss. His fingers thread into your hair before closing around the back of your head to bring you in, and you sigh softly against his lips as you feel the rest of the pressure from your Thanksgiving visit melt away. If the town you grew up in felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, D.C. and Marcus feel like home. And there's nothing you want to do more now than be with Marcus in this city.

You break the kiss and lower your gaze to his fly, where your fingers are already working on unzipping him. Marcus exhales in an audible sigh.

"You missed me that much?"

"Don't get any ideas," you warn him before bowing down over his lap.

Later, when you are freshly showered, and lying awake in Marcus's bed with him deeply asleep next to you, you wonder when his presence at night became such a comfort for you.

Marcus visits his parents over Christmas. You manage to convince yours that you're way too busy and the holidays too short for you to fly out. Settling in for a couple of days off work, you plan to go to the gym, meet friends, and maybe finally get through that book you started three months ago. You plan for simple yet delicious meals and come home with bags full of groceries and bottles of wine that you balance in your arms as you're digging for the keys in your pocket.

"Lemme get that."

Marcus appears by your side, taking a grocery bag from you.

"Thanks."

You manage to let yourself in, and Marcus follows you to the kitchen, where he leaves the bag on the table.

"Hi," he smiles. There is something so endearing about this man, his smile lights up the whole room, you can't possibly keep from smiling back at him.

"Hi. I thought you already left for the airport?"

"Just on my way now. Glad I caught you."

"Oh?" You unbutton your coat, unwrap the scarf from around your neck. "What's up?"

"Just... I wanted to see you before I left. Wish you happy holidays."

"Right." You take off your coat and leave it over the back of a kitchen chair. "Well... happy holidays, Marcus. I hope you have a nice weekend with your parents."

"Thanks." He clears his throat, looks down and scratches the back of his head. "Do you have any plans for New Year’s Eve?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you maybe... want to do something?"

"Sure," you nod, a warmth spreading in your belly. "Like, dinner?"

"I was thinking Hirschhorn? You said you were curious about their special exhibit. Then dinner, and maybe a movie, if you're not opposed to spending so much time with me at once?"

You feel your cheeks heat up a little. "I don't mind at all. That sounds lovely."

His smile widens, his warm eyes glitter. "Great. I'll get back to you as soon as I return."

He kisses your cheek before leaving, his hand resting momentarily on your arm. When he closes the door behind him, the apartment feels empty.

That emptiness stays with you over the holidays. You're enjoying the time off, yes, and downright cherish not having to spend time with your family. You were looking forward to Christmas eve drinks with a couple of friends but are disappointed when they only talk about holiday preparations, gift shopping, and visiting in-laws. The detachment makes you annoyed. It's not that you want that kind of life, you don't want kids and a house and Thanksgiving dinners and all of that. But there doesn't seem to be any alternatives. You get the feeling that they feel sorry for you, that they think you should look up from your laptop once in a while, go dating, settle down, maybe work less.

Always work less. You love your job so much, maybe you won’t forever, but right now you do, and it doesn’t feel taxing when it gives you the gratification it does.

You grab a cab home, earlier than you thought and morose for not getting the carefree night you had planned for. Maybe it's your own fault for thinking that people with families wouldn't have changed.

You weigh your phone in your hand for a couple of blocks before texting Marcus.

Hope you're having a better time than I am. Just getting home after drinks, and realized I have nothing in common with my friends anymore :/

You regret the text as soon as you've sent it. It sounds whiny, and you know that you're being unfair to your friends. But Marcus replies almost immediately:

Sorry to hear that. Wish I was there to make you feel better.

You smile, and your heart skips a beat. He always knows what to say.

It is what it is. Early night for me.

He replies with a Santa emoji that makes you chuckle.

Too old for Santa, you type back. Or too naughty. Either way, he's not coming.

Only man who should come in your apartment is me ;)

You stare at the message, cheeks heating as you lick your lips. Your brain scrambles for an answer to match his tone.

I'll be the judge of that, mister. If you're away for too long, I might get lonely.

The reply comes almost immediately.

I'll be back before you know it.

Your heart is fluttering like a butterfly inside your ribcage, and you react with a thumb up to the last message. For the rest of the cab ride, you're chewing on your lower lip while looking out the window, decorated windows racing past you as the cab driver navigates towards your apartment building.

You fall asleep in front of the TV and are awakened by a text.

You up?

You rub your eyes, realize that you're still wearing makeup, and curse low.

It's two am.

Marcus's name immediately lights up on the phone, and you answer the call.

"What's up?"

"Sorry to wake you."

"That's fine, I was on the couch. Gotta schlep my ass to bed," you yawn as you turn off the TV, and stand up, scratching your head.

"I'm outside."

"What?"

"I'm outside your door."

You frown, trying to understand what he's saying. "What are you doing there?"

"Just open?"

Call still active and phone held to your ear, you walk over to the front door, and unlock it. And there Marcus is, holding his phone but lowering his hand and ending the call while smiling wryly at you.

"Hi."

"What... why aren't you at your parents'?" you stutter, still holding the phone like you're talking to him through it.

"Because I can't do this at my parents'." He steps up to you, cups your cheek, and brings his lips to yours. His face is cold, so you understand that he has just arrived from the airport. Your sleep-riddled brain still doesn't understand, and Marcus breaks the kiss, breathing softly against your lips before drawing back.

"Did I... fuck this up now?"

You lick your lips and realize that you're feeling calm and steady in a way you no longer do when he's not around. You grab him by the jacket lapel and pull him in through the door.

"No," you reply, a shiver running through you when he puts his arms around you. "No, you did just the right thing."

You don't use your tub as often as you would like to, yet it was one of the main reasons why you bought your apartment. It's spacious, has gorgeous vintage style brass faucets, and is placed by the window, from which you can see the park, now wearing a white winter coat of snow, on the other side of the street. The shower booth is at the back wall of the bathroom and your busy lifestyle has you favoring quick showers instead of long, luxurious baths.

Now, however, you're stretched out languidly in Marcus's arms, the back of your head on his shoulder, his hairy thighs pressing up against you on either side. The water is hot and scented with oils, and if the orgasms you had before getting out of bed hadn't relaxed you, this would definitely take away the last vestiges of stress knotting your muscles.

"This is a really nice tub," Marcus mumbles into your ear, his hand running up the inside of your arm, resting on the edge of the tub. "Wish I had one."

"You're welcome to use mine," you smile, just as his hand disappears into the water, finding your breast and cupping it, thumb lazily stroking the nipple.

"I like your apartment better anyway," he admits. "Mine doesn't feel like a home."

"That's just because you haven't unpacked."

He raises his shoulders in a shrug. "Been busy."

"Doesn't help much that you're fucking me every time you're off work."

“One could even say it’s your fault I haven’t unpacked,” he muses, lips touching your temple. You shake your head, hand finding his and leading it away from your breast.

“Nuh-uh, you don’t get to pin this on me.” There is no vehemence in your voice, and even if Marcus can’t see your face, he can plainly hear the smile threatening to break out.

“I had to try.”

You bring your hand back to your chest, and sigh when his fingers brush over your nipple. It would be so easy to just let things slide, enjoy his hands, his mouth, his cock that’s resting softly against your lower back… But your interest is piqued.

“Why haven’t you unpacked, Marcus?” you ask quietly. “I’ve seen that you have painting just waiting to be hung on the walls and given how much you like to criticize my dentist’s office artwork from Ikea, I can’t imagine why you haven’t done more to decorate your apartment.”

His hand stills, and you feel him swallow. He clears his throat, sighs, clearly stalling, but you don’t show mercy. You want to know.

“I guess… I thought I’d be making a home with someone. And when that didn’t happen, I didn’t like the idea anymore.”

You braid your fingers with his, the water gently rippling with your movement.

“Your ex?”

“Yeah. Teresa.”

“What happened?” He’s mentioned some tragic breakup but never specified, and you’ve never asked. Now, however, you’re asking. You want this puzzle piece to fit right, want to know everything there is to know about Marcus Pike.

“I don’t want to burden you with that…”

“I want to know, Marcus.”

He hesitates, but eventually tells you how his ex, a smart, beautiful woman that he fell head over heels for and eventually proposed to, accepted his proposal over the phone but called again thirty minutes later to tell him that she was leaving him for a coworker. Marcus had been transferred to D.C., had asked Teresa to come with, had a plan for a life together, and she turned out to be in love with a coworker: a charming, unreliable man who worked out an elaborate scheme to make her choose him instead of Marcus.

You’re shocked to silence when he stops talking, an array of emotions simmering inside you. When Marcus speaks your name, the first one to burst is anger.

“What a cunt!”

Marcus sputters your name, but you don’t feel bad.

“You know I’m right!”

“No need for language like that,” he protests, but you can sense a change in him. It’s like something’s loosened in him. Even if you can’t see his face in this position, you can feel it in how his body feels against yours.

“I’m sorry, but that behavior is despicable. And from what you’ve told me about that asshole that she went with because of you, I’d say they deserve each other.”

He shrugs. “Or maybe I was too pushy. We didn’t date for long before I asked her to marry me. I should’ve given her more time.”

You turn around in his arms so that you can meet his flickering gaze. Raising your hand to his cheek, you caress the slightly scratchy surface that sorely needs a razor.

“If it feels right, it feels right,” you tell him softly. “There’s no shame in being open and honest about your feelings, Marcus.”

He blinks, and for a second you think his eyes look shiny. His lower jaw moves as he swallows.

“Thank you,” he eventually mumbles. “I don’t want to sound like I’m making excuses but… I did feel I was being straight with her. And she… really fucking hurt me.”

“Yeah, she did.”

His stare is suddenly relentless.

“Will you? Hurt me, I mean?”

You feel nothing but calm. “Marcus, I like you a lot. This is more than just sex now. But I won’t marry you in six months, and I don’t need you to have a plan for us. I like my job, I have a good career that I won’t give up. I don’t want kids, but I like being with you, and I want to keep being with you, not just have sex but do other stuff with you.”

He smiles at that and casts his eyes down. You lean forward to press a small kiss to his lips.

“And I will help you to unpack your shit, and I will come with you to get a new kitchen table tomorrow when the stores open. Because that huge monster you have jamming up your kitchen has got to go.”

“Not tomorrow,” he immediately tells you, and you quirk an eyebrow. “Because tomorrow I’m taking you to the museum, out for a meal, and then we’re watching Casablanca.”

You chuckle. “It’s a deal.”

He pulls you in for a deeper kiss, water splashing when his arms go around you.

“For the record,” he murmurs against your lips, “I like you too.”

“That’s a relief,” you smile, before a gasp escapes your lips; Marcus’s hand has slid down your soft stomach to the apex of your thighs, and one finger is slowly circling your clit.

“Open your legs,” he whispers, breath almost scorching your cheek that is already warm from the water and your rising desire. You move around, legs and hips repositioning themselves so that he can cup his big hand over your sex.

“Marcus,” you breathe in a low moan, “I already came twice this morning…”

“And you’ll come a third time,” he promises as he slides a finger inside your warm heat, rolling a nipple between two fingers of his other hand. You curl your arm back and around his neck, seek his lips for more kisses, push down against his hardening cock to make him gasp into your mouth. Thumb on your clit, he adds a second finger to your pussy, fucking you slowly as you exchange moans along with your kisses. Your hips jut upwards when he hits the right spot, and then he stays on it, water splashing over the edges of the tub when he goes increases speed. Your hand dives underneath the surface to find his cock, and a strangled moan travels from Marcus’s mouth to yours when your fingers close around the stiff length. When he slows down, so do you, when he fucks you faster, your hand works him faster.

The climax reaches both of you at the same time, your bodies tightening up, Marcus’s hips jerking up as your thighs clamp shut, cries bouncing off the tiles as you press your bodies together. As silence falls, the water stills and your hearts return to their normal rhythms, and Marcus’s lips are on your temple.

“Fuck, you’re amazing.”

“So are you,” you hum, a ripple of lingering pleasure making your legs twitch. He kisses you again, a light smattering of kisses over your temple, brow, cheekbone, before reaching your mouth. That last kiss is deep and slow, loving, and intimate in a way you haven’t had with him before. It’s unnerving, almost scary, but there is something so comforting about Marcus’s broad-shouldered body underneath you, something that makes you embrace the unknown.

“Happy Christmas, baby.”

The underwhelming meeting with your friends, the flirty texting with Marcus, that feels like weeks ago. But it was only last night, and your world has been thoroughly rocked since then.

“Happy Christmas, Marcus.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #my fic

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totothewolff · 4 months

Text

Season of Love (5/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

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Dances with Wolff Arc Chapter 5: Cold tires, warm heart

The weather stays cold all day long at Silverstone; the crisp air bites your skin, causing shivers down your spine, and your breath forms small clouds before you as you walk briskly to the campsite area where the luxury motorhomes & RVs are parked, yours included, huddled in layers of warm clothing, feeling drained as the rest of the grid feels, seeking an opportunity to lay down and rest.

Everyone warned you the mid-season was tough on the body, and they were right! As you drag yourself inside your luxurious, trendy, and sophisticated RV. The sleek and clean design aesthetic greets you; it's a zen monochromatic color scheme space full of high-end finishes, innovative storage solutions, elegant sofas, and a large comfy bed with a kitchenette and bathroom, creating the perfect getaway place for you away of the chaos at the paddock.

You share your location and access code with Toto, but he doesn't reply to your text. You assume he must be busy, so you fall soundly asleep on the bed there until you feel a pair of muscular arms hug and softly spoon you, half-waking you up.

You feel Toto's firm body against yours, with no inch of space between you two, as he wraps you in a tender and affectionate display of intimacy; your bodies intertwine as he seeks your warmth.

—I missed you so much —you turn to tell him, kissing him softly. —It feels wrong not having you by my side —you find the courage to let Toto know how you felt these past days without him, breaking the room's quietness, then burying your face in his neck, feeling shy and vulnerable and softly smooching it.

He caresses your cheek with his index finger and slowly kisses your lips, leaving you breathless after a few minutes.

Toto seems exhausted as you peek at him while patiently waiting for him to comment on your confession, but he only looks pensively at your words as he rests his temple on yours. You sense his right hand caressing down your arm on its way to hold your hand. Then he pulls you closer to his chest, where you get cozy and fall asleep again.

One text, two texts, five texts.

—She is not answering —Michael says, a bit taken out.

One call, two calls, five calls.

—He is not answering —Niki says, quite concerned.

Once again, you wake up after a bit, feeling dozy and disoriented as you hear an iPhone ringing in the distance, still nestled in Toto's embrace, overwhelmed with tranquility and happiness but fucking annoyed at that damn ringtone.

The softness of the bed, the heat of Toto's closeness, and the gentle rise and fall of his breaths make it a cozy heaven you don't want to leave, but that goddamn annoying phone doesn't let you nap and is about to wake him up too, and you want him to rest.

So you bravely drag yourself to your feet, hating life, and walk straight to Toto's duffel travel bag to search for his iPhone buzzing inside. To your surprise, you find it next to a torn and used voucher for "Cocktails for 2" at The Savoy Hotel in London, along with his passport.

As you pick up his phone to turn it off, you wake it and notice that Toto still hasn't changed his wallpaper; he appears there posing in a pottery studio couple session, all smiley, with Susie wrapped in his arms, both of them looking in love and joyful as the professional camera lens captures their handsomeness, they look like they belong together.

You can't avoid the sting of pain and insecurity washing you over, but you take the thought off. It's probably nothing, you try to convince yourself. So you finish turning his phone off and leaving it where you found it.

Then you turn off yours, ignoring all the red bubbles in it, on your way back to Toto's arms. All you want right now is him and you, and fuck the rest of the world. This "relationship," if you can call it that, is meant to crash soon, so you want to hang on to it as much as possible.

Two hours have passed since then, and Toto's hands are now roaming across your back, guiding your movements as you are in a cowgirl position on him. At the same time, his tongue dances erotically with your tongue, adding a sweet and sinful layer to your passionate embrace.

Your moans echo throughout the RV, blending perfectly with the rhythmic creaking of the bed frame beneath you. Toto's breathing grows heavier as you ride him hungrily, showing how much you miss him.

As he explores your curves, Toto begs you: —Bounce on my cock —with a voice husky with desire and with trembling hands, and you give him what he craves, exploding with pleasure as each time more desperately you go up and down his shaft.

Your nipples stiffen, them peeking out from beneath the fabric of your dress; this time, you didn't even care to take all of your clothes off; they were begging for his attention. Toto can't resist it; he leans in, pulls down the upper part of your dress, and captures one in his mouth, sucking it gently as his tongue teases its sensitive tip.

—Oh, God! —you cry, arching your back with pleasure. —That feels heavenly.

Toto releases your breast, looking up at you with a sultry grin. —Wait till it's my turn to show you how much I missed you —he purrs, hands dancing all over your ass.

As you are about to reach an orgasm, you can't escape the guilty thought in the back of your mind. —We shouldn't even be here, less doing this —you say in between tiny breaths and moaning a bit. —It was irresponsible for me to text you to come over —you protest weakly. —This could be no good for our careers —releasing a big moan as you finish the sentence, not being able to stop rocking yourself on Toto, moving now your hips in circles. His dick is so hard, and it feels so delicious all the way inside you.

Toto shrugs nonchalantly, then growls, his eyes smoldering lustfully, enjoying the sight of you going all over him. —I was planning to look for you anyway. Do you want us to stop and leave? —he replies, out of breath.

—No.

Toto gives you an "I agree" in the form of thrust, hitting you with such force that causes you to scream out in pleasure and unstabilize you, making you quickly place both of your hands on his chest to not fall on his face.

Then, his strong arms wrap you around the waist, holding you steady as he moves in rhythmic strokes that push your boundaries. Each withdrawal leaves you craving more, and each entry pleases you; he starts speeding up, making you moan out his name many times as the sounds of your body colliding fill the air. It's a symphony of pure passion.

—You make me feel so... complete... and free... and loved —You gasp out, voice shaking as Toto's powerful thrusts drive you deeper into the realm of satisfaction.

For some reason, feelings are bursting out of you in the form of words lately, freeing your thoughts without thinking much about the repercussions, being weirdly open and sincere for once in your life. Maybe it's because your period is near, and you always feel more emotional around that time; you lie to yourself, not wanting to admit falling for him because you know it will hurt more when it's over, which is sadly approaching.

It's not only the sexual part that makes you feel so whole with him. It's also his small displays of affection, his caring texts every morning to know how you slept, to let you know you are one of his first thoughts of the day, or the long conversations about anything you two share, the pictures you send to each other of the most mundane things to share life.

That makes you always feel him present and being taken care of. Also, the many times you advise each other, from billionaire businessman to billionaire businesswoman, or the quiet moments when you two are silently wrapped in each other's arms, just enjoying your presence and bodies.

—Toto, I'm so close! —you moan loud as he manhandles you around; you feel yourself dripping and so warm, like your pussy is burning. Your pussy folds, rubbing around Toto's shaft, who positions himself to pound you against the mattresses.

Then you feel him shifting his entire weight on you, topping you, and placing his thumb finger inside your mouth for you to suck it. —Then cum for me —he whispers, hot against your ear. He starts to fuck you hard like that, making your ass wable, and the bed squeaks so loud as he pins you down against the sheets, but all get muffled by the sounds he is provoking you to release. You feel a bit of pain in your hips and lower back as he slaps hard against you.

With a big moan, you cum all over him, all red and sweaty.

Toto has never had this before, someone so willing to please him, in all senses, someone so light-spirited and carefree. He is trying so hard not to fall for you, too. You please him like no one else in bed but also outside of it. You are the whole fucking package.

If change didn't fright him, he would be willing to try.

He would venture for more if he weren't so scared of failure.

Toto feels a responsibility for Susie and her feelings and heart; she counts on him for this, and Toto has never missed his duties since he was a young man, even if his heart desires something else.

He ended up agreeing to try the "open relationship thing" after saying no to it at first and breaking things with Susie because she showed up very distressed one night at his hotel room door, crying and saying how much she still loves him and how hard this is, that he shouldn't punish her for not wanting children. Toto felt so guilty; that wasn't his intention, but what if she was right?

But you happened in the middle of this. By accident or destiny is a cruel joker. This fling started like that, and it was supposed to stay there, not this.

He pays attention to you more than you think; he has noticed the meaning and sentiment of your words lately and can't avoid feeling guilty for not being as open and honest as you deserve and how you are being. But Toto knows you will end it as soon as he lets you know you are his free pass on an open relationship agreement, so he is hanging on to you as much as possible. It's selfish and wrong, but he doesn't know how to quit you, how to say no to this, how to say goodbye.

Only if Toto knew.

Only if you knew.

—Is Torger still in London?! —Niki asks out loud, now absolutely annoyed, addressing Sam in the middle of the circus inside the Mercedes garage as he tries to manage everyone for the opening ceremony of the F1 anniversary race, set to start in about 20 minutes.

Toto is always on time and never misses something without previous notice; this is uncharacteristic. Niki hadn't seen him all day; they had different schedules.

Lewis and George are scheduled to make donuts driving along with the other grid drivers. They all will do the same simultaneously to create a fog while AC/DC performs on a high-stage platform.

—Toto is here. I saw him a couple of hours ago. His phone seems out of reach —Sam has sworn never to lie to Niki. She quickly picks up her phone to call you, knowing you are also missing after being asked for the fourth time by several Williams team members if she had seen you around. WHAT A COINCIDENCE! It is evident for her where you two are.

Since you don't answer the texts she bombards you with, she takes action and puts her feet in motion.

"You can't act this recklessly!" Sam thinks and looks visibly irritated. People are going to start wondering, especially when you two idiots arrive late with "we just fucked" hair and satisfied expressions at the paddock, and God forbids you two to show up together at the same time! Or worse, you two do not arrive at all.

Sam shows up at your RV's door, almost tearing it down, betting Toto and you were in there this whole time.

—Are you mental?! —Sam tells you, looking stressed, as the door's mechanism finishes opening.

—I'm sorry —you honestly apologize, knowing quite well what she refers to.

—Niki is furious! —she informs you, still at the bottom of the stairs and out of the RV's entrance, with no visible intention to come in. —Toto is still in there? —she asks in a low voice, pointing with her head.

You nod.

She comes closer to you, almost whispering to your ear. —Please don't get offended. I love you, but I know you are not here because of the sport, nor do you care which team wins or not; I know this is not your actual job. But please, could you...

You interrupt Sam, finishing for her in a sad tone. —Not interfere?

—I... —Sam sighs; she doesn't want to blame you or make you feel bad; she gets it, knows what you are going through, and wants more than anyone else for you to be happy. —Listen, our team is working its ass off; there are thousands of us relying on performing the best, and this is our livelihood; it worries me that this could...

—It won't happen again; I get it. I know we acted unprofessional. Sam, you understand how hard it has been for me... I'm just... I'm just trying to enjoy life for the first time, to feel happy and free for once; YES! I'm sorry it wasn't the place or the moment, but...

—I know, I know —she quickly adds. —Listen —Sam gets a little nervous and hesitates before adding. —I think you two, really, should talk openly and honestly about your "situation." I don't wish any of you hurt. Please talk —she sounds insistent, which worries you a bit.

—Yeah. Okay. I agree.

—Are you showing up for this Massi's wet dream? —Sam tries to lift the mood and return to the main topic.

—Toto is —you inform her. —He is finishing getting ready in the bathroom. I'm not. I will watch it at the hotel —now is your turn to come closer to Sam's ear and whisper. —I have to prepare for the call; Pascal set the meeting at 2 a.m., and we will rerun the scenario.

—It's good to know; I hope it all goes as planned and well —Sam says, looking relieved as she hugs you goodbye and leaves before bumping into Toto.

Toto claims "food poisoning" to excuse himself and that he spent hours feeling nauseous at his motorhome, as he makes it just in time at the garage. It's a white lie everyone buys. Actually, this happened once to him in Spain after going out for dinner.

Niki notices he has far too much color on his cheeks, for that matter, but chooses to let it go. Toto has been far more than responsible for many years, which has significantly cost him a lot in his personal life; Niki feels he deserves and needs some recklessness and happiness in his life. So, he plays along.

He softly pats Toto's shoulder and gives him a small smile as he sits beside him at the workstation and places his headphones and gear on.

The show is about to start.

The F1 anniversary's opening ceremony is the most glamorous affair! Bringing together a star-studded guest list of celebrities, like every big name, is there.

And there are way too many influencers wandering around the garages for Michael's likes; he lets you know as soon as you call him back, excusing yourself for leaving the circuit, calling it a personal emergency.

Minutes later, you turn on your hotel room's TV to watch the start of the ceremony. A spectacular video mapping and drone display showcases the sport's rich history on the circuit track. It displays iconic footage on the many kilometers of asphalt as broadcast to millions of viewers worldwide.

This is followed by a visually captivating driver's parade in which current drivers donned old-fashioned racing suits representing different eras of their teams, paying homage to the evolution of the sport as they get driven around interloped with cars with performers giving it all and working the crowds, till they make it to the main stage, where AC/DC comes out to close the show.

In the middle of their set, all the grid drivers exhibit their coordination skills, making donuts together as the cherry on the cake, leaving fans ecstatic. You must admit it looked so cool. Massi must be shitting his pants!

Your room service order comes just in time as the race starts; you asked for too many desserts and sweets along with your salmon; you are feeling low and are taking comfort in the delicious food you savor, an unhealthy habit of yours, eating your feelings.

Toto let you know before leaving, in between kisses, that he was attending a Mercedes team dinner after the race to celebrate with the team so that you would be sleeping alone tonight. You were so grateful for it, avoiding the trouble of making out an excuse to be able to attend the late-night meeting in private.

Sam is right; you aren't taking any of this seriously enough.

The entire Mercedes team gathers in one of the most glamorous and lavish restaurants in London, "Amazónico." It is the coolest place Sam has been in a while, full of foliage-festooned walls and decor inspired by the rainforest of Brazil. Gorgeous velvets, greenery environments, and deco touches give the place an exotic yet luxurious vibe.

The mechanics and engineers, usually in their sports attire, look sharp in elegant outfits, and the mood is ON! Drinks flow as Toto gives a motivational speech to start the night, congratulating the team for their performance so far and inspiring them to give their all to secure the championship, acknowledging the fierce competition from Williams and Ferrari.

Susie and Toto are by the bar; she is sitting on the stool with her arms resting on the shoulders of a standing Toto as they chat, almost mouth-on-mouth, looking joyful.

Niki looks bemused as he watches them from afar, already sitting at the main large table the venue arranged for them and where they are about to have dinner. He addresses Sam, sitting to his right, without moving his gaze from the couple. —Weren't they..?

—Apparently, they are not —Sam gives him a look as she looks for something in her purse.

Niki looks as disappointed and surprised as she is as he nods to her, lets out a small, barely audible sigh, and sips his bourbon.

As Sam gets hammered with Bono and Annalise, Toto reaches them at the booth near the back of the place. He stays on his feet, waiting for them to finish their round of shots on a spinner wheel, and then bends to talk to a very comfortable, sitting, and tipsy-looking Sam with pink-red cheeks.

—What are your plans for tomorrow? —he asks her a bit loud, over the set the DJ is playing.

—Nothing, just chilling and recovering from this night; why?

—To hang out and tourist around, like we always do or did, how about that?

—Aw, you miss me, asshole?

—You are a necessary evil, but yeah, I miss you.

—Why does everyone seem so emotional lately? I hope it's not contagious.

—We have lots to catch on to; I feel it's been ages and pure work between us.

—Please tell me if it's terminal.

—No, you moron, I'm totally fine —he swings his hand a bit too hard, spilling some of his drink.

"Then tell your eyes, liar! Yeah, all drunk at a work event? Sure, you are TOTALLY fine," Sam thinks. —I'm free, then. Will she join us?

—Who? —Toto looks taken off guard, thinking of you instead of Susie, whom Sam refers to.

—Sus, since she is around again.

—Sam, I...

—Oh, no, it's none of my business. I would rather it that way; I'm just asking.

—No, she isn't; it will be just us.

—Good —she ends the conversation.

"Is Sam mad at me? She sounded like it." Toto thinks. It's always hard to read her.

As the night is about to end and everyone seems drunk, Toto comes to cool down and relax after being forced to hit the dance floor against his will. He is not feeling it tonight, so he chooses to sit next to Niki and chat with him.

Toto is not on his usual dumb and lively drunk ass; he is weirdly somber. In the middle of their casual conversation, Niki asks him: —So, who changed their mind? —knowing what's up as he looks at Susie dance with George.

—About?

—Having children.

There is a long silence while Toto looks at Susie, laughing and throwing some moves around the dancefloor.

—I'm giving it a try.

Niki slowly nods and says nothing, and Toto stares at him. He recognizes Niki's disappointed face when he sees it, and Toto takes another big sip of his drink, swallowing hard.

You wake up late the following day after falling asleep around 5 a.m. once the call ends, feeling emotionally drained and not wanting to leave the bed. But when in Rome, you mean London. Nothing will lift your spirits more than going shopping; you are a shoes and purses maniac, and that new Miu Miu collection screams your name.

You are in the middle of buying half of Harrods when you receive a text from Toto.

"I won't be able to stay with you these days as I was hoping, I'm expected at Brackley. See you on the weekend. I miss you already."

Great, just what you needed.

Still in the UK

The British GP is here! And most of you already feel like you had enough Silverstone already.

Since Lewis swept the floor with everyone on the anniversary race, a similar result is expected for this weekend.

The FIA calls you all into one of the now traditional meetings, but this time around, Massi is expected to join in.

So when you arrive at that sad meeting room, he is standing right there next to the door; you are the last one to join, so he is facing you while waiting for you to finish stepping in to close the door after you, and you don't let go an opportunity like that.

As you step in, you hand him your coat and purse as if he were the receptionist and thank him, motioning to tip him as the entire room laughs.

Massi looks so confused and appalled at you, getting taken entirely off guard, but follows along, not knowing what else to do, or if you are serious or just messing around, still holding your things in his hands, and places your coat on the hanger and your purse on the empty chair next to yours.

—The nerve —Sebastian tells you in a low voice and takes a discrete bow at you with his hands as you sit on your chair next to his. Vettel is hiding behind Charles in the row in front of him, trying so hard not to burst out laughing. Both your eyes sparkle as your looks lock and smile at each other. Seb has the most gorgeous eyes on earth.

Then the meeting starts.

After being freed from that, you are walking down the pitlane on your way to free practice, chatting and fooling around with Carlos, Lando, and Mick, but suddenly, you stop just meters away from the Mercedes' slot.

Lewis and George join you as soon as they notice you guys and come out of their garage, staring amusedly at a very frozen you as they reach you.

—Is that..? —you say, peeking inside the Merc's garage. —Oh, my God! Is that ROGER FEDERER?! —you let out in a funny and pitchy little scream.

George starts to laugh behind his hand, covering his mouth. You sound hilarious, and he looks at you in delight as you act all star-struck. Who would tell?

Carlos takes a few steps nearer you and closes your mouth, softly pushing your chin up with his index finger. —You are drooling —he jokes.

You go all red, tomato red, as you return to your senses.

Lewis sees the perfect opportunity for mayhem. —Oh, I'm so introducing you two! —He returns to the garage as quickly as possible to look for Roger.

—WHAT!? NONO! —you say way too loud as you watch him go, causing a couple of mechanics to raise their heads and look your way.

Lewis abruptly interrupts the engaging conversation Federer is having with Toto.

You start hyperventilating as Lewis walks alongside Roger straight in your direction. Toto observes the scene from the distance, with his muscular arms crossed. You feel his dark eyes on you.

You can't even form a greeting sentence when the Swiss introduces himself to you. A funny sound comes from your lips that sounds like a "Hi!"

Millie looks at you, astonished, as she comes closer with Normani after the guys pointed at her with their hands and arms a "Come see this, please." She pivots her gaze from you to Normani and back with an "I think she broke" expression.

Meanwhile, your brain goes: "Roger is tall, hot, hot. Jesus, that smile! Is that chest real? Oh god, don't you dare peek down at his grey sweatpants!" as you stand there like an idiot without moving or saying something.

There are a couple more seconds of pure and awkward silence till Lando's stupid, mocking little laugh gets you out of your trance. Oh, the group is living for this!

—Delighted to meet you, Roger. I'm Y/N!

The group burst out laughing at your expense, enjoying the spectacle from afar, watching you try to act human around Federer until he turns his head their way. Now, they are all gathered together, sensing their stares, and the group quickly goes apart, acting like nothing has happened, returning to their activities.

—Is it me, or is Wolff not enjoying their interaction? —Normani asks Millie as they both intertwine arms and walk away together.

—Toto!? —Millie turns her head, looking back at a serious-looking Austrian inside the garage. —I don't think so. He always looks serious. I guess it's just his resting face, but he is such a cinnamon roll.

—A cinnamon roll? What language do you speak?

—English, Miss Posh Britain Got Talent.

Normani rolls her eyes at her. She is bonkers.

—In my defense... —you start to tell the table later, as all of you try to fit into a tiny table in the McLaren cafeteria; this time, Lando is sponsoring the lunch, and as you munch your veggies wrap.

—There's no defense —Carlos mocks you.

You toss your arms in the air, mouth still full of food, to protest as everyone laughs again at your interaction with Federer.

—We witnessed one of your canonic events —Mick jokes, making Millie almost fall from her half of the chair they are sharing.

—Oh, it was hilarious —Lewis adds.

—A masterpiece —Lando admits. —That coming from me —he points at himself with a thumb finger. —It means A LOT.

You finish passing the food and clear out your throat before continuing. —In my defense, Roger was wearing the slutiest thing a man could wear, and my brain was trying to process it.

All the boys look inquisitive at you with a please tell us more face.

—The grey sweatpants! —Millie and Normani answer for you simultaneously, agreeing with your statement.

—See! —you give them all a funny face.

—I still don't get it —Lando says.

—OH GOD! Go put on a pair of grey pantsuits and look down at your dick, and tell us —Sam teases him, done with him.

—Don't you remember that viral Lewis "I have an anaconda down here" mirror Instagram selfie with the grey sweatpants? —Millie says.

—That a friend told you about! —Seb jokes, addressing Millie.

—THAT A FRIEND OF HERS TOLD HER ABOUT! That that friend isn't me —Normani joins in the fun.

—With all due respect, Sir —Millie adds, looking at Lewis, who is laughing and trying to hide his red face in the gap his flexed arms are creating, lying on the table's surface.

—So... Do you like your men in grey sweatpants? Good thing I have four of those to wear —Lando tells you, moving his eyebrows suggestively up and down several times.

—OH GOD, PLEASE NOT! —the entire table screams.

Toto joins you that night in your hotel room; the two of you don't feel like doing anything fancy; just spend the evening together. After playing a competitive round of "Talk, Flirt, and Dare," as you stack up the board game cards for the next round, he asks you. —So, Tennis? Of all sports... Tennis?!

—Yeah, it's fun! —you slowly approach Toto; he is sitting on the rug next to the game placed on the coffee table between you in the living area, looking comfortable, relaxed, and shirtless after taking a dare card, currently only wearing his briefs.

You slide a hand on his neck and chest before sitting on his lap, facing him. He wraps your waist with his toned arms and pulls you closer. Whispering against your lips —How?

—Well

—If you say so... —he shrugs. —For me, it's boring; there's not much adrenaline in it.

—Well, not all sports have to be lethal, you know? I thought you would like it since it is fast-paced —you make a thinking gesture by rubbing your chin.

—You have seen him play?

—Who? —you reply, trying to act dumb.

—Federer —he says pretty sternly.

—Several times, yeah.

—Are you one of those girls who follow him around? He told me about his groupies —he teases, but there is a jealous undertone.

—What? No, no. I don't like him like that.

Toto gives you a look that you read as "Really, girl? Closed fist, big long acrylic nails." —Uhm! If I remember correctly, you went all over him today; I think I have never seen you smile that big before —he adds. —You must look delighted in those selfies you took with him before you gave him that private tour of the Williams garage. Did he really get into the car? He passed with us. Did he like the driver's helmet you gifted him?

How on earth did Toto know about all that? That man has eyes everywhere.

—Hey, listen, I met one of my heroes FOR THE FIRST TIME and, AND, I got a bit excited! —you comb your hair with your hand. Toto's eyes can't avoid peeking at your tits as they wiggle with your arm movement. You also ended up shirtless; that sheer bra leaves nothing to the imagination.

Then he arches an eyebrow at your answer. A "bit excited" is downplaying. —He made you lose words, at first, then got you all over him, but sure "a bit excited", so, he looks better up close, or..?

—AND I got carried away. I admit it was a little embarrassing —Yep, Toto is envious. —He is okay, yeah. Are you jealous?

—Yes, completely —he purrs dangerously against your mouth, and you feel his warm breath brushing your lips. —Lucky for me, that guy is off the market —he looks intensely at you.

You kiss Toto, melting for him inside. —I wouldn't pick him over you —you pause to reassure him and keep kissing him. —I wouldn't pick anyone else over you —more kissing. —You are all I want.

Toto reacts weirdly. He gives you a look you don't know how to read; it's full of devotion, but there's something else, like anger. Is he that possessive, or is there something else?

You feel like following Sam's advice, and this may be the perfect moment for it.

But he senses you are about to open a conversation he isn't ready to have. Toto hates himself for it, so he quickly and softly moves you to get on his feet and asks you if you want another glass of wine. He is already taking your glass and walking to the winery, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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fraudulent-cheese · 11 days

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Actually no, i want to expand on my relative dislike of WT. Because when people talk about this season's faults, i BARELY see people mentionning the complete flatterning of like half it's cast!

Oh sure, people are super willing to throw shit at TDA and especially TDAS for it's flanderisation of characters, but outside of some rogue posts by mutuals, i don't see ANY OF YOU pointing the finger at World Tour when i'd argue it's especially eggregious.

Owen's the easiest example of this, and while it didn't start this season it got so much during it. Nearly all of his lines revolve around food, his aerophobia, or Izzy for a single episode. His relationship with Alejandro is also super indicative of this; im willing to accept the HC that he was aware of Alejandro's dislike of him and just wanted to win him over, but that's absolutely not what the writters intended, no way in hell. He's just completely oblivious to his shitty behavior when he seemed at least somewhat aware of Heather's shifty behavior back on Island, or at least able to stand up for himself (shoutouts to that one Action episode). It's not fun to watch, either.

Bridgette too had her personality reduced to one or two traits, for either comedy reasons (because apparently people making out 24/7 is funny) or story reasons (establishing Alejandro as a threat who uses flirting and his general attractiveness to advance his strategy) and it suckssssss because she was! an actual character! and World Tour especially benefits from having a 'straight man' type character that can look at the other's weirdness and react to it like a normal-ish person! That and she could be an interesting presence to have on Team Victory, with her friendships with Leshawna and Courtney for instance.

DJ too is a BIG victim of the flanderisation thing; his personality is dumbed down to just being a huge scaredy cat, and his character is just The Curse. That's all he does and that's all he is, all he talks about. And that sucks because he too, was an actual person in Island and even Action! Sure, he was sometimes a pushover and had an accident-prone bunny, but he was also kind and could actually go out of his way to play pranks on people! But all of that is just gone in WT.

There's also the characters that weren't flanderised, and more just. Written entirely out of character. Outside of the entire Love Triangle (which i will get to) the biggest example of this is Leshawna to me. The writters straight forget the episode in Action where she's entirely dsitrustful of the Pizza they were offered (which did turn out to be tampered with) due to Chef being uncharasterically nice to them. Guess what Alejandro was doing. Being overly nice to her out of nowhere. Frankly she fell victim to the same thing Bridgette did; needing to be sacked for Alejandro's villany to be better established.

Ok fuck i need to mention the Love Triangle too because while people complain about it alot i don't think they complain about the correct stuff. i'll go rapid fire because it's been talked to death however; Gwen's liking of Duncan is a retcon, her acting like this is out of character for her frankly, Duncan's out of character by trying to emotionally manipulate his ex and the lore established to justify it makes it worse (remember the "At least im straight with people" line?), Courtney is villanised from even before this point which while her anger might've been targetted at the wrong person she was justified in being upset imo, Courtney's entire character is thrown out of a window in general this season, blah blah blah.

I'll end on the whole "the writters forgetting entire character traits/arcs" Cody still hitting on Gwen this season makes no goddamn sense and is super uncomfortable to watch. He's really such a nothing character man. Sierra deserved better than being a manic pixie stalker girl.

#cheese posting #for the love triangle thing: doesn't help that gwuncan's way better as friends AND worse than romantic duncney imo #string cheesing #tdwt #total drama #yeah im main tagging this #td owen #td bridgette #td dj #td leshawna #not tagging the love triangle/cody because it could count as character hate and im not gonna be an idiot

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pink-sparkly-witch · 6 months

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Spring in Fall

Summary: Jensen Ackles has spent his whole adult life in front of the camera, but now he wants something more. Something he’s not been able to find yet: an omega to settle down with. When Y/N Y/L/N arrived on the set of Supernatural, the alpha may just find all he’s ever wanted – his true mate.

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: Teen

Bingo Square: Scent Bond for @jacklesversebingo

Warnings: Omegaverse, A/B/O dynamics (no smut or anatomy talk), fluff, scenting.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This WIP has sat unfinished for over a year. When I got the ‘Scent Bond’ bingo square for Jacklesverse, I just knew this would be the perfect fill and found my fluffy bone long enough to get this finished! I hope you love this absolute floof 😘

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite or leaving a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

Jensen was irritable. That much was obvious from the Goddamn moon. In fact, irritable was too polite a word for what he was. His ruts were no joke since he hit forty, knowing that his biology dictated he should’ve settled with a mate long before now. The problem was work always got in the way.

If it wasn’t sixteen hour filming days, it was every other weekend at conventions. If it wasn’t conventions, it was catching up on sleep; if it wasn’t sleep, it was an awards show, corporate event, or some other function he was obligated by contract to attend.

Jared had been lucky in finding his true mate on set, and Jensen always hoped the same fate might come to him, but so far, twelve seasons into the show, it hadn’t happened and his hope was starting to wain.

He couldn’t deny that he wanted what all his family and friends had. He was lonely—not that he liked to admit that out loud to many people. All that would achieve is a sudden string of blind dates that always ended in disaster.

The alarm on his phone went off with the reminder to buy a present for his nephew’s birthday, and when he registered the date, he frowned. Quickly, Jensen ran through the math in his head, and his frown deepened. He wasn’t due a rut for another week.

Then why was he so on edge?

“Mr. Ackles? They need you on set in five.” One of the PAs, Riley, he thinks, shouts through his trailer door.

“Alright, thanks,” Jensen calls back, trying to put it to the back of his mind for now. He had a job to do, and if Jensen was anything, he was a professional. He would never let personal issues bleed into his professional life.

Plus, they had a very important guest star for the next couple of months. Y/N Y/L/N had signed on for an eight-episode story arc, and everyone was excited. She was the most popular actress the network had ever had on their books. She was making waves in the acting world, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before she moved to a bigger network or the big screen and began cashing in on prestigious award wins.

Not only that, but Jensen had a massive crush on the beautiful omega, and Dean would be having a really good time with her sassy, sexy character for the duration of her time here. He knew it was unlikely that she’d be his true mate, but maybe, if he played his cards right, she’d at least go on a date with him, and things might work out for them. Plenty of couples he knew weren’t true mates and life was great for them.

“Can you smell that?” Y/N asked no one in particular in the hair and makeup trailer.

“Smell what?” Jared asked from the hair chair.

“Leather, and…” she turned her head and sniffed again. “Sandalwood. Mmm, whiskey.” She felt her cheeks heat up and a tingle in her belly that wasn’t wholly unfamiliar to her; neither was the scent she was detecting. It smelled like home. “Spearmint, too?”

Jared smirked through the mirror at Frida, the hair lady, and Y/N caught the grin on the makeup lady, Tanya’s, face. “What?” she asked. Tanya just shook her head, her grin getting wider.

“Come on, Tanya! There’s something you’re not telling me! What is it?” she whined and pouted playfully.

“Jeez, don’t give me that look!” Tanya laughed. “Damn it! Or those eyes!” she stepped away, laughing harder, when Y/N pulled out the big guns. “You know, Jared, Y/N’s puppy eyes are better than yours!”

Jared laughed and mumbled something that sounded a lot like: “Jensen’s gonna be in so much trouble!” as he looked over at the confused omega, who was still subtly sniffing the air with an adorable frown on her face.

“Is it getting hotter in here?” Y/N suddenly exclaimed. “My God, it’s hot,” she fanned herself with her script, feeling the heat rise from her toes upwards as if she’d just sat in a tub filled with water that was too hot. “Can we open the door or something?”

“Sure, I got it,” Frida said as she left Jared in the hair chair and opened the door to the trailer. “Jensen!” she gasped as she opened the door and saw the green-eyed actor reaching for the handle. “You scared me!” she giggled and stepped back, allowing the tall alpha to enter the trailer.

As soon as Jensen stepped inside, he stopped short, his green eyes blown wide and pupils dilating at the sight of his famous crush sitting in what was usually his makeup chair. She looked beautiful with her big doe eyes as wide as his and her hands fidgeting in her lap.

“Omega,” Jensen purred, momentarily shocked at how pathetic he sounded. Certainly not like the big, strong alpha he wanted to be for her, that’s for sure.

“Alpha,” Y/N whimpered in response, bowing her head as a sign of her submission to him.

Jensen stepped out of his trailer and took a deep breath of fresh air, frowning at the scent he caught on the wind. It smelled like home. Like The Dallas Arboretum and Botanical Garden in the springtime, to be exact. Cherry blossom, lilac and honeysuckle all mixed in with a hint of lavender, making his mouth water. But that was impossible. Except for the lavender, those flowers only appeared in the spring or early summer. It was October.

He didn’t think they’d have flowers on set for any reason, but he supposed that didn’t mean someone didn’t get sent a bouquet or something. The smell of lilac was unmistakable to him; his mom had a huge lilac bush in her backyard, and he’d grown up with it. He’d know that smell a mile off.

Shaking his head to rid himself of thoughts of home, he continued towards the set. He was really excited to work with Y/N, and he hoped she was as sweet and kind as he’d always heard she was. Nothing was worse than having professional respect for someone, meeting them, and finding their personality or attitude lacking.

Jensen spotted Rich across the lot and walked towards him to welcome him. The kind beta was directing again, and Jensen wanted to greet him properly and make sure he knew where to go if he needed anything. Not that Rich needed the reminder, but Jensen was nothing if he wasn’t a gentleman.

“Hey man, good to see you again,” Jensen said as he greeted Rich with a hug.

“Looking good, Jensen. How are you doing?” Rich asked.

“Ah, you know,” Jensen said simply. Rich was one of the few people who knew how desperate he was to find a mate, settle down and have a few pups of his own instead of always being the fun uncle.

“She’s out there, Jay. And I have a feeling she’s closer than you think!” he smirked.

“Ha!” Jensen scoffed. “You sound like Jared! He’s convinced Y/N’ll turn out to be my true mate!” he chuckled.

“Hey, I get why he thinks that! I remember all those nights in your trailer or apartment, and if you saw her on screen, you just froze and stared at her until she was off camera again!” Rich laughed heartily.

“Well, she’s incredibly beautiful. And I’m no worse with her than when you see Scarlett Johansson or Jared was with Nina Dobrev!” Jensen laughed.

“True, but your eyes glaze over, and you get this stupid smile, and…” Rich trailed off at his friend’s head tilt and look of sheer concentration.

“Can you smell that?” Jensen asked.

“Smell what?” Rich asked.

“It’s like a spring garden or something. I smelled it earlier and can’t get it out of–” Jensen whipped his head around and began stalking towards the hair and makeup trailer. Rich followed him, staying a safe distance behind the prowling alpha.

The alpha stopped in front of the trailer door and sniffed, purring low in his throat at finally finding its source. Just as he raised his hand to pull on the handle, the door whipped open, and his senses were assaulted with the most delicious and delicate scent he’d witnessed in his whole life.

Jensen stepped into the trailer, his gaze fixed on his celebrity crush, and felt the air being sucked from him as her Y/E/C eyes met his green ones, wide and submissive. “Omega,” Jensen purred, momentarily shocked at how pathetic he sounded. Certainly not like the big, strong alpha he wanted to be for her, that’s for sure.

“Alpha,” Y/N whimpered in response, bowing her head as a sign of her submission to him.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Jared grinned, raising his hands at the older alpha, showing he was no threat to them. The two women showed the same respect to Y/N, raising their hands as they left the trailer.

“I think Jay just found his true mate!” Jared grinned, pulling Rich into a hug.

“He’s gonna absolutely hate that you were right. I hope you know that!” Rich smirked.

“Hell yeah! And I’m never gonna let him forget it!”

Rich chuckled as he pulled the walkie from his belt. “We got a code 143; I repeat, a code 143 is in progress. All filming is suspended until further notice. Ladies and gentlemen, Jensen Ackles has met his true mate in none other than Y/N Y/L/N. Over and out,” Rich spoke through the device and smiled, high-fiving Jared when they heard the cheers erupt from all over the lot.

“Alright, I’ll start with the phone calls. Have you got the numbers for Y/N’s family? I’ll let them know she’ll be off grid for a few days at least,” Jared asked Rich, who handed him a sheet of paper with her emergency contacts listed.

“I’ll get some betas to keep the parameter clear from here back to his trailer. The last thing we need is another alpha getting too close to Y/N. Or an omega to Jensen, for that matter. Then I better call the Network and let them know their golden boy and girl are officially off the market!” Rich chuckled.

“They’re gonna love that!” Jared laughed.

It’d been suggested to Jensen before by numerous executives that he and Y/N should meet and see if there was a spark, but Jensen was stubborn and said if they were meant to meet, it’d happen naturally. Apparently, so was Y/N. They’d heard a few times that it was the same response she gave them whenever they asked her about it.

Once the door was closed, Jensen stepped towards her and kneeled at her feet. “Do you want this, Y/N? Want me?” he asked shyly. Yes, they were true mates, but he had a few years on her, and she might not want to settle with an older man. She might not want to settle at all. Being in the prime of her career might mean she wasn’t ready to start a family yet.

“Yes, Jensen. I want this… want you, Alpha,” she purred, placing her hand on his cheek and smiling softly. The gasp of pained relief from the big, strong alpha broke her heart, and she wondered if he’d been let down as many times as she had in the past or if it was more.

“Can I… uh… can I scent you, Omega, please?” Jensen asked quietly, and Y/N giggled at his cuteness. She’d always hoped she’d have an alpha with a softer side, and it seemed like she got one.

“Yes, Alpha. I’m yours now,” she said softly.

“Not quite,” his fingers rubbed softly over her mating gland. “But I intend for you to be mine very soon,” he smiled softly before slowly leaning forward and nuzzling his nose into her neck. His hot breath against her sensitive skin made Y/N shiver, and her body erupted in goosebumps. The intimacy of the gesture was overwhelming, and she felt tears sting in her eyes.

Jensen whined as he got in closer and breathed her in. “You smell so good, Omega. And so beautiful,” he whispered to her, gently placing his hand on the back of her neck and pulling her closer still. Y/N tilted her head and rested her cheek on his shoulder, nuzzling her nose into his mating gland, her neck still open, and began to scent him in return.

Within seconds, an overwhelming sense of tranquillity and contentment at being exactly where he needed to be rushed over him, and he had no idea if it was coming from him, her or both of them. And it was the most elating feeling in the world.

“Sweetheart, I could sit her for hours and do this,” Jensen whispered, placing the softest of kisses on her neck between each word he spoke. “But I wanna take you somewhere more private if you’ll let me.”

“Okay,” Y/N answered, a whine escaping her throat as soon as he pulled away from her. Jensen chuckled at her pout, stood, held his hand out for her to take, and pulled her protectively into his side when she was on her feet.

“What hotel are you staying in?” Jensen asked.

“I’m not. I’m staying with a friend. Her apartment is just outside the city,” Y/N responded.

“My place is closer. Is that okay with you? I’d rather we have complete privacy, but if it would make you feel better, we can go to my trailer or the place you’re staying,” Jensen spoke softly.

“Let’s go to your place, Alpha,” she beamed brightly, chuckling when Jensen purred in approval of her answer.

Stepping out of the trailer, Jensen pulled Y/N into his body and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. The omega responded instantly, winding her arm around his waist and moving as close to him as their bodies allowed. The alpha smirked and puffed his chest with pride at hearing the wolf whistles from the crew, who’d gathered to wish the new couple well.

Jensen noticed his driver standing next to an SUV and headed straight towards him, determined to get them out of there as quickly as possible. He’d waited long enough for her and didn’t want to wait any longer.

Helping Y/N into the car, Jensen quickly moved to the other side and climbed in beside her. He’d barely sat down when the omega slid over to his side and cosied up to him, burying her nose in his neck and scenting him contentedly. He purred, happy to finally have his omega in his arms, scenting her hair, allowing her aroma to mingle and settle in with his own, binding them together in a bond that would become unbreakable the instant he claimed her, which Jensen had every intention of doing before the sun came up.

“Forever starts now, Omega. You ready for it?” Jensen murmured into Y/N’s hair.

“I’ve never been more ready, Alpha.”

Tags: @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

#jacklesversebingo #spring in fall #omegaverse #alpha!jensen ackles x omega!female reader #alpha!jensen x omega!reader #jensen ackles fluff #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o universe #a/b/o

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