#loren squeaks

[bradfordchxn]

[bradfordchxn]

As an outsider, I genuinely do not understand how he was allowed to even throw his hat in the ring for consideration to begin with.

Surely y’all have rules against that?

FUCK THIS COUNTRY

[reallyhardy]

Loren, have you started watching Scott Pilgrim Takes Off!? I'm on episode 5 rn, interested in your thoughts if you have started watching

YES hello!

i thought it was brilliant! i loved the subversion of expectation (i mean i WOULD deffo have been happy to sit there any just watch The Story I Know yet again, but it was SO exciting when i realised they were doing something different.) i love love LOVED the animation, all the action sequences looked so fantastic, and... i loved the addition of the sparks ✨ i thought it was SO so cute. SPOILERSSSS below:

i thought will forte playing older/even older scott was a fantastic choice (channelling phil tandy miller from the last man on earth for sure)

i also adored the scene with kim and knives bonding through music, and all of knives becoming part of the band... the whole thing with todd and wallace was absolutely nuts...

i thought it was nice expanding on all the exes stories and having ramona go in and make up with (most of) them. the story with roxie was particularly good and had me tearing up! and i was absolutely sobbing by the end of the series haha although i think a lot of it had to do with the nostalgic angle for me and how much i'd loved the movie as a teen hahaha and then having the story come back for a third time in my life in a way that felt kinder and more redemptive was really something.

at first i was sad they didn't get into things like steven being gay but then i realised... ofc with it ending in a similar place 'let's try this' but also really it actually ended chronologically not long after the original story starts... it had me realise oh actually there's still so much possiblity for these characters and their lives. they could still have a lot of those adventures and discoveries that happen in the later comics even if we don't see them, it ends on the hopeful note that lets you know they're all going to try, even in the face of knowing that it Could All Go Wrong as shown by older scott & ramona's story, that there is always hope and they may as well give it a shot. BUT i also thought that part with Ultimate Ramona saying "i'm probably going to struggle with this later, so let me tell you this now, i love you" IDKKK i know to that-timeline scott that's early af but to ultimate ramona it's a real present thing since she's got all of that knowledge and history inside her. ANYWAY MADE ME EMOTIONAL also loved the visual reference to the kiss from the end of ponyo :')

.............ramona RE-BLEACHING and dyeing her hair THAT much was absolutely insane though 🤣 i've seen ppl say 'WITH A DEVELOPER BASE!?' too although I PERSONALLY believe she was maybe. mixing with conditioner. that's the only thing i could think of that would make it even remotely acceptable to bleach it that much (but also its a cartoon so ofc not realistic haha)

also i THOROUGHLY enjoyed the nicholas angel & danny butterman cameos 🤣 i was like wait why are these two security guards english.....? oh wait. oh okay. i see.

[bradfordchxn]

yes ma'am 🫡

[bradfordchxn]

“your writing only seems like it’s getting worse because your standards are getting higher”

the absolute brain explosion that i just experienced right now

i’m framing that and displaying in my office like a shrine

please please please please reblog if you’re a writer and have at some point felt like your writing is getting worse. I need to know if I’m the only one who’s struggling with these thoughts

[cecexwrites]

Aleks x Cosette + Kinktober 6

Aleks was eight years old the first time he learned about the concept of torture. It had been late- probably one or two am and he was awoken from his bed by his father. He'd padded down, barefoot, through the family home to the basement- where he'd been told over and over, never go down there without permission. 

That night he learned why. 

He watched, wide eyed, through two way glass as his cousin Vasilisa tortured a man for two hours. 

To this day, Aleks had no idea why. He couldn't really process what was going on. His brain tried to protect him from the harsh reality. But nothing could protect him from the image of Vasilia taking a hammer to that man's fingers one at a time. 

Ten years later, Aleks was the one doing the torture. But his 'weapon' of choice wasn't a hammer. No. It was the little remote in his pocket. The one he idly played with, turning up, up, up, then back down. 

In a desk three rows up and one column to the left, Cosette Bellefleur shifted, her knees pressed together, a thin sheen of sweat just around her hairline. Aleks wasn't close enough, but he knew there was a very good chance that the people in the desks closest to her could hear the muffled buzz of the vibrator nestled snugly inside her cunt. 

"Who would like to pass out the graded tests?" Professor Loren asked. Aleks's hand went up first and the professor nodded for him to come do it. Aleks stood, one hand in his pocket to turn down the vibrator, walking up to the front and grabbing the pile of papers. He glanced just at the name, not the grade as he put the tests down on Mal's desk. Cassim's desk. Jay's desk. When he got to Cosette's name, he did take a peek at the grade. 

He gave her a genuine grin and put it down face up for her. 

"That's my good girl." He said to her, his voice low. He took note of the flash of pleasure in her eyes, her tongue darting out to wet her lower lip at the compliment. He stood upright and continued to pass out the graded tests, sitting down and turn the vibrator back up. He wanted to see her cum. 

She let out a small squeak, people turning to look at her, but none of them knew her the way Aleks did. They didn't see the muscles in her legs tightening, the way she gripped the edge of the desk, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the wood. 

She was cumming and his only regret was that he couldn't see her face. He'd do it again later, he'd get to see the dreamy look she got when she came, but had to do it quietly. 

When class was over, Aleks waited, turning down the toy and watching her gather all of her stuff, putting everything into her bag. He stood, grabbing his own bag and took hers from her, to carry it to her next class. 

"You got an A on the history test." He noted, walking alongside her. People paused to watch them as they walked. People still weren't used to the two of them it seemed. King Ben dating a VK, somehow, made more sense than Aleks's connection with Cosette in most people's eyes. Cosette didn't seem bothered. Aleks got the impression she was used to having all eyes on her. Aleks found he also couldn't be bothered. He didn't care about what other people thought nearly enough for him to break off whatever this was with Cosette. 

Were they dating? Maybe. he wasn't fucking around with anyone else. But he hadn't asked the same of her. And he didn't know if she was or wasn't. It was a conversation they'd have eventually but today he had other things on his mind. They were about halfway to her next class when he reached over, gripping her arm and roughly pulling her into a nook. 

He knew every last inch of this school. part of his 'job' was to be able to protect the royals and that meant knowing any place that someone with ill intentions could be hiding. This particular little cove was one where they could see out at others, they could definitely hear everyone else- and they could be heard, but to see them and what they were doing, one had to be at the exact right angle. It wasn't impossible- but it wasn't likely either. 

"Yes?" Cosette asked with a knowing smirk. 

"You got an A on your history test." He repeated. "You did well, and good girls get rewarded." He knelt down at her feet on the concrete, Cosette wore a short pink skirt and he knew the tights were actually thigh highs, something he'd been thrilled to find when he spread her open earlier to fit the toy into her cunt. "How many times did you cum during class?" He asked. He knew the number, he'd watched carefully. He had definitely paid more attention to Cosette than he had to the teacher, but he was fine with that. He would get notes from someone later. 

"Three." she answered breathlessly as he lifted her leg, setting her foot, high heel and all, on his shoulder, her skirt bunching around her waist. 

She was soaked, her cum and arousal leaving a shining sticky mess on her inner thighs. He inhaled deeply and reached up, carefully pulling the toy out of her cunt. She released a soft whimper as he 'cleaned it up' a little, running it up and down over her clit. 

"Aleks." She groaned. 

He placed it in her hand, closing her fingers around it. 

"Suck it clean, Cosette." He ordered. His eyes glued to her face as she lifted the toy up to her lips. It wasn't that large, it had to be small enough that the others in class couldn't hear it unless they were close to her. She sucked it until it no longer tasted like her pussy and she handed it back, he slipped it into the back pocket of his pants and turned his attention to her cunt. 

"You said three orgasms?" he asked. She nodded and he reached into his bag, pulling out a marker. He uncapped it and made three hash marks. Cosette's gaze turned interested- turned hungry. "You took them so well, Cosette." He praised her, capping the marker. 

"I did?" She stared down, her eyes on the three marks on her inner thigh. 

"Yes, you did, you took it so fucking well." He moved her leg, letting it drape over his shoulder, bringing him in closer to her pussy. "And good girls get rewarded." He informed her. He pulled her in closer with one hand, that hand gripping her tight, he knew that it would leave bruises on her pale skin. Aleks never in his life thought he would like seeing a woman with a bruise in the shape of his hand, but as long as it was on her hips or her thighs, it turned him rock hard every single time he saw it. 

And he saw it often. 

Cosette was impossible to satisfy in the best way. It seems like she never got enough. But Aleks was willing to try and try and try. However much it took. 

He pulled her in close and he started to eat. Licking and sucking, nipping at her clit. She cried out, her hands shooting down to tangle into his hair. She didn't really care if anyone heard or saw them- if anything, it made it better. Cosette was made to be watched, to be admired, and if she could get someone to catch them, to watch them as She came- usually loudly- then she would be happy. 

She kept one hand tangled in Aleks's blonde hair, the other pressed up against the wall as her already sensitive pussy was used. But when two thick, slightly calloused fingers pushed deep inside of her- that was it. She came, crying out even louder. Her legs shaking as he pulled back, as much as he could without moving her leg off of his shoulder.

Aleks licked his lips and smirked, opening the marker to make a fourth mark on her inner thigh. 

"So fucking good." He groaned, taking the vibrator out of his pocket, he checked it, made sure it was clean, then slipped it inside of her, she was still so fucking wet that there was no resistance. "I can't wait to see how many tallies I have on you by the end of the day." He carefully moved her leg and stood up, grabbing their bags and hefting them over his shoulders. 

He held out a hand to her, which she took, her legs still shaking as he walked her out of the nook and to her next class. Halfway there, he hit the remote, grinning as her legs nearly gave out and she gripped his arm to stay upright. 

"Keep walking, Cosette." He half mocked, his arm moving around her waist to actually help her stay up. Oh yeah, he was going to get her to ten tallies by the end of the day, at least. He had no doubt in his mind about that one. 

Their next class was- interesting. It was remedial goodness. A class that he didn't technically take but he was the TA for. Did Fairy Godmother need a TA for a class with 5 students? No. But when Aleks found out about it, and more importantly that Cosette was in it, he pulled some strings to make sure he got that spot. He had that period open anyway, so there was no reason why he couldn't help her out. 

He turned off the vibrator as they walked into the classroom. He went to the front of the room where Fairy Godmother was erasing the board from the class before that. Not Remedial Goodness. This was the only class of its kind. It had five students and it would only ever have those five students. Unless of course, Ben followed through with his proclamation and actually brought over more of the kids of the Isle. 

The other students- Mal, Carlos, Evie and Jay filed in, taking their seats and getting settled in for another hour of explaining to them how to be good. 

It was kind of a silly class. Aleks was pretty sure it could be taught in a single seminar, but no one asked his opinion on it. 

"Alright, since we are all here let's get started-" The doors in the back of the room opened and a young woman came speed walking in. When everyone stopped to look back at her- she froze, her cheeks flaming red. 

"Um- There is- there is a problem in the office- you might want to come..." Jane, Fairy Godmother's daughter stammered. 

"What is it?" FG asked. 

"Someone fed a potion to one of the pumpkins- it's gone mad."

"It's alive?" FG's eyes widened. Jane nodded vigorously and FG turned to Aleks, handing him the pointer she used. "Aleks, the lesson is written in the book- just- TA." She got out before she hurried away after her daughter. 

"Aren't you like- the protector of Auradon or something?" Mal deadpanned, propping her feet up on the table. "Shouldn't you go handle that with her?"

"Divide and conquer, Mal." Aleks answered, trailing over to the book. Today was the dos and don'ts of party etiquette. Do bring a present, don't curse the infant. So on so forth. 

"So the lesson says don't be a dick at parties." He shrugged. "Any questions?" Evie raised her hand, he pointed at her with the stick. 

"What kind of parties?"

"Any parties. If you're invited somewhere, and you go, don't be a dick." 

"What if you don't get invited?" Mal drawled. 

"Then you don't go."

"Even if everyone else was invited?"

"Yeah. Maybe do some self reflection on why you were the only one left out." Cosette offered. Aleks smiled at her response.

"Anything else?" He asked. They shook their heads and he nodded. "Great. Class is over early. Miss Bellefleur? I need to speak with you after class." 

Mal and her friends wasted no time in gathering their stuff and rushing out to enjoy the free period. 

Cosette stood up after the doors had closed behind them and she trailed up to the front of the room, where Aleks was leaning against the desk. 

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" She emphasized the last work, a wicked grin on her lips. 

"I did."

"Am I in trouble?" She asked, widening her eyes innocently. 

"No, quite the opposite really. You've been doing- exceedingly well in your classes. Your answer in class today was inspired." He informed her, toying with the pointer. 

"Yeah?" She asked, the smile faltered a bit as she tried to determine if he was serious or if it was part of the bit. He straightened, closing the gap between them, one hand coming up to the back of her neck, squeezing the nape gently to bring her in close. 

"Yes. You're doing great, Cosette." He promised. "And you deserve a reward for that." He used his grip on her neck to turn her body around, bending her over the table. "There was an assignment for you all to do." He admitted. "But I think that instead of having you write out your answers, we'll do an oral exam instead. For every answer you get right, you get a reward, for every question you get wrong, you get a punishment. Understood?"

Cosette nodded, her head turned to the side, resting against the cool desktop. 

"Say it, Cosette." He ordered. "Understood?"

"Yes sir." 

"Good girl." He flipped up the back of her skirt, exposing her to the open air. He could smell how fucking horny she was and it just made him hard- his cock tenting up in his slacks. 

"Question number one." He picked up the quiz that FG had left for the VKs to do. He figured he would talk around the fact that he let them out without doing it. Claim they all were involved- and properly clothed- for the oral exam. "You've been invited to a party, which of the following is an inappropriate hostess gift? A) a bottle of sparking juice. B) a tray of fresh baked cookies. C) a poison apple?" He shook his head at the question. 

Cosette remained silent for a moment, debating between reward or punishment. Finally, she opened her mouth. 

"C) a poison apple." She answered. He grinned, resting his hand on her back, running it down over her bare ass. 

"Very good, Cosette." He lifted that hand and brought it down on her ass with a resounding 'smack'. He watched as the pale skin turned pink, Cosette gasping. 

"Next question." He continued. "The hostess appreciated your gift very much. She puts it out on the table of refreshments and tells you to help yourself. Which of the following should you do? A) poison the punch. B) fill a cup with punch and enjoy. C) touch all the sandwiches with your bare hands?"

Cosette didn't hesitate this time answering,

"A) Poison the punch." Aleks clicked his tongue and shook his head. 

"No, Cosette, you don't poison the punch. You touch all the sandwiches, because now they're yours." He teased, then turned on the vibrator still nestled inside of her, but turned down to the first level, enough to feel- but not enough to make her cum. 

"That's not fair." She whined. 

"Good girls get to cum. If you want to cum, then you're going to need to be My Good Girl." He warned. She huffed but nodded. "Say it Cosette." 

"Yes sir." She pouted. 

"Very good." He smirked and picked up the paper. 

Cosette got the next question right, and the one after that, each time she got a firm smack on the ass, the next question, he turned the vibrator up one level. She let out a whine as it still wasn't enough. She wanted more- she needed more. She was going to go out of her mind with the slow pace of the toy. 

Aleks was very much aware of this fact, However, he made no move to fix the problem for her. Instead he went through the rest of the test. The next question she got wrong and he dropped it back down, she let out a dramatic sob but he didn't relent. Instead, it either went up or she got a smack on the ass for each correct answer she got after that. 

When the got to the last question, he turned the vibrator up to a 5, half of it's highest possible strength. 

"After you've been to a party at someone else's home, the correct follow up is A) Break into their house and steal their stereo. B) send a thank you note. C) plot to throw an even better party to upstage them?"

"B, it's fucking B- please, Aleks." Cosette gasped, 

"Please what?" He asked innocently, running the tip of the pointer over her ass. 

"Please- I need more." her voice cracked and he put down the pointer, swiftly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, with one hand he slipped the vibrator out of her and with the other he pulled his cock out- rock fucking hard from all the teasing and he pushed right into her pussy. She cried out at the change from the vibrator to his cock- which was much thicker. 

He bent over her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. 

"I told you, good girls get rewards. You got an A on the test." It wasn't technically a test- at least he didn't think so but whatever. He gripped her hips tight with his free hand, pounding into her hard and fast. Part of him was aware- again, that someone could come in at any time and find them. But he found that just spurred him to go harder and faster, to make her scream louder. The threat of getting caught turned him on almost as much as it did for her. 

He held the vibrator in his other hand, wrapping around her body and pressing it to her clit. She cried out, slamming her hips back away from it but then towards it again, effectively fucking herself on his cock. 

"Fuck- Cosette, you feel so fucking good baby, You're so fucking wet and tight." He groaned, letting her move herself for a bit before ramming himself into her up to the hilt, pressing the toy tight against her clit until she was cumming, her legs giving out, but he held her up against his body until she'd ridden out the orgasm, then he bent her back over the desk, fucking her hard until he came, filling her up, every thrust forward shooting out another load of cum until he was spent. 

He left her against the desk, pulling out and using tissues from FG's desk to clean himself up. He gave her a moment to gather her bearings, digging through his bag and coming back, kicking her feet further apart and squatting down to add another tally to her leg. 

"That's five, Cosette." He noted, tugging her skirt down to hide the mess between her legs. "Let's get you to your dorm. You did such a good fucking job, baby, you deserve a rest." He grabbed her stuff and by this point, her legs had recovered. 

"We're not done yet right?" She asked, a note of horror in her voice. Aleks laughed and shook his head. 

"Not even close." He promised. "Not. Even. Close."

[opineonionated]

Spectral Evolution

After a two-decade interlude, Jim O’Rourke’s Moikai returns with Spectral Evolution, a major new work by Rafael Toral. Making his name in the mid-1990s with influential guitar drone platters like "Sound Mind Sound Body" and "Wave Field" (both reissued by Drag City in recent years), Toral has never been one to rest on his laurels repeating his past glories. In the early years of the 21st century, Toral laid the guitar aside, along with the focus on extended tones that had defined much of his music until that point. He began his ‘Space Program’, a thirteen-year investigation of the performance possibilities of an ever-expanding set of custom electronic instruments, played with a fluid phrasing and rhythmic flexibility inspired by jazz. Dedicated to honing his skills on these idiosyncratic instruments, Toral has performed with them extensively both solo and in many collaborations, including in his Space Quartet, where his mini-amplifier feedback integrates seamlessly into the frontline of a classic post-free jazz quartet rounded out with saxophone, double bass, and drums.   Since 2017, Toral’s work has been entering a new phase, often still centred around the arsenal of self-built instruments developed in the Space Program, but with a renewed interest in the long tones and almost static textures of his earlier work; he has also, after more than a decade, returned to the electric guitar. Spectral Evolution is undoubtedly Toral’s most sophisticated work to date, bringing together seemingly incompatible threads from his entire career into a powerful new synthesis, both wildly experimental and emotionally affecting.   The record begins with a brief ‘Intro’ that sets the stage for the unique sound world explored throughout the remainder of its duration: over sparkling clean guitar figures, Toral stages a duet between two streams of modulated feedback, seeming less electronic than like mutant takes on a muted trumpet and an ocarina. This segues seamlessly into the stunning ‘Changes’, where a dense array of Space instruments solo with wild abandon over a thick carpet of slowly moving chords, growing increasingly chaotic over the course of eight minutes yet always fastened to the lush harmonic foundation. On these and many other moments on the record, Toral manages the almost miraculous feat of having his self-built electronic instruments (which in the past he had seen as ‘inadequate to play any music based on the Western system’) play in tune. In an unexpected sidestep away from any of his previous work, the chord changes that underpin many of the episodes on Spectral Evolution are derived from classic jazz harmony, including takes on the archetypal Gershwin ‘Rhythm changes’ and Ellington-Strayhorn’s ‘Take the “A” Train’, albeit slowed to such an extent that each chord becomes a kind of environment in its own right.   Threading together twelve distinct episodes into a flowing whole, "Spectral Evolution" alternates moments of airy instrumental interplay with dense sonic mass, breaking up the pieces based on chord changes with ambient ‘Spaces’. At points reduced to almost a whisper, at other moments Toral’s electronics wail, squelch, and squeak like David Tudor’s live-electronic rainforest. Similarly, his use of the guitar encompasses an enormous dynamic and textural range, from chiming chords to expansive drones, from crystal clarity to fuzzy grit: on the beautiful ‘Your Goodbye’, his filtered, distorted soloing recalls Loren Connors in its emotive depth and wandering melodic sensibility.  The product of three years of experimentation and recording, and synthesizing the insights of more than thirty years of musical research, "Spectral Evolution" is the quintessential album of guitar music from Rafael Toral. 

released February 23, 2024

[princess-pray-a]

Character Profile

OC Find her mood board here

Name: Elinor Loren.

Age: 20s

sex: F

Mother : Alive

Father: Alive

Siblings: Single Child ( her older brother passed away when she was 3 months and he he was 7 years old from brain tumor )

Relationship status : Single

physical attributes

Eyes* deer like sparkly eyes her iris is dark brown almond shaped with double eyelids , you can say it’s her best features slight dark circles are visible her eyelashes aren’t that long but it’s moderately long eyebrows are thinner but long if not taken care of they tend to join,

Nose* her nose are small , almost perfect button shaped slender and no crookedness, her next best feature

Lips* her lips are pouty luscious but small her teeth inside are not crooked but the front 2 upper incisor are bigger , lips have narrow arch and fuller bottom usually balanced and pale pink in colour usually said a kissable lips

Ears* small C shaped ears proportionate to the face structure beauty marks * on her cheeks perpendicular below below her right eye a mole is present in the line running between lips and nose many small unnoticeable moles also present face structure * small round face like a baby but with slightly high cheeks bone and a cleft chin , her cheeks tend to get red during pressure , embarrassing situations and heat

Hair*a little longer than shoulder length hair , it is curly but not that voluminous the hair colour is brown but , ends have orange golden ombré hairstyle usually side swept and like side shaved a twist is created from hair to give that clean look .

Height* Short about 5’2ft

Bodytype* she has a hourglass figure but her shoulders are big ! Her rib cage is wide , she has hipdips but over all her body is athletic if she keeps working out and maintains shape , usually between midsized to overweight us size (8-12) sometimes (medium to small ) body hair is sometimes present but mostly shaved breast size is Around B and C cup

Skin colour* pale skin colour like yellowish cream with no pimples on face veins are visible as green colour

Blood type* A positive

Allergies* from the fabric accumulated dirts and dusts

Diseases* Non for now but , she has weak ankles

Personality type: INFJ-A , she is friendly and sweet but extremely weary of people’s intentions , she comes off as innocent yet has a sexual allure to her , likes to keep her life private usually , extremely hesitant to ask for help , tends to attract bad rumors as she is secretive , sensitive and. Child at heart , affected by others opinion on her , always trying hard to better herself, a lot of panicking and squeaking , chatterbox when it comes to her favorite stuffs , dramatic and super reactive but can be opposite , appearing extremely knowledgeable due to street smart nature , struggles with proving herself academically, trusts easily , super emotional and romantic at heart , forgiving never holds grudge or fights with others rather leaves , she loves helping people through her skills always eager to learn new knowledge and she is really understanding , her aura is calm so people tend to be able to talk to her easily.

Social status : respectable family , mediocre household (money)

Skills : cooking , drawing, art ,singing , dancing , embroidery, editing pictures videos ,gaming , writing poems stories , and crafts , Hena arts, colour combinations , styling , good at conversation , good decor sense, cleaning , has very good intuition,

Languages fluent in English and her mother tongue besides that she can speak 2-3 more languages ,

Ethinicity : she is Aryan race but looks foreign where ever she goes.

likes : museums, fun parks, movie halls , people who are bubbly , considerate , honest, people who don’t hide their intent , goal oriented people , rain, forests, music, good food , rare objects, learning new things , saving money , spending mindfully , helping people in need with your skills, causing harmless mischief , cuddling , plushies, receiving thoughtful gifts , spending quality time rather than quantity or place , homely places , people who are supportive and hear you out , people who can hold deep conversations , understanding people moderate clingy people

Favouriate colour : sage/teal green , (plum purple , magenta red, azure blue) ( a mixture of pastel and deep pastles) she tends to prefer subtle over bright vibrant once )

Favourite food : Whole Foods , lean Meats (chicken and fish only) healthy foods , mozzarella, dark chocolate, strawberry, honey , nuts , papaya, dumplings, granolas, tortilla wraps, soups, cottage cheese, yoghurt, mushrooms , tofu , spicy foods , diet soda

dislikes: shallow people , people that don’t care of others emotions , excessive turmoil and pain , backbiting , too much bright and contrasting colours like neon green , clothes that shows arms and chest , revealing others secrets, people who cheat their partners, doing same thing again and again, feeling of being used by someone, feeling of being judged harshly , being forced to do something , people who don’t have the will to change or progress, people who step over others emotions and. Values , being treated as a replacement and an option ,being ignored , fighting with others , hurting others ( both intentionally or not intentionally)

Less preferred Food : she avoids all kind of processed foods or food in restaurants though it tastes good but her body feels bad , She doesn’t have any kind of red meat or fatty meats . No alcohol or smoking , she prefers not to have sugary foods but rather us uses natural low calorie sweetening agents , bacons , bugs or insects

Hobbies : traveling , explore ,watching (anime, kdramas , mythological adventure horror and sci-fi )listening music( kpop, pop, classical,pop rock) collect weird and rare stuffs dancing ,cooking

Asthetics: (dark and light )academia, royal core , forest aesthetics, minimalistic , authenticity, fantasy and mythologies , fairytales

Quirks:....

Habits: saying okieeee, getting silent suddenly when thinking too much during conversation, tee clenching teeth and smiling , blinking with eyes wide when she hears sth she is shocked to know or doesn’t understand , cannot make eye contact directly feels shy , slapping sth nearby to hide embarrassment, pouting when things don’t go her way , saying “ I dunno “ when angry or disappointed ,

Ideals: believes a power exists (rather than a god) that oversees the future and fate , we should try not to hurt people both physically or verbally , I don’t want to step over other to go higher. I would respect someone even if their ideals clash with mine if they respect my ideals too, i prefer not to degrade anyone even if they are my enemy .

Extra INFORMATION: has had bad luck with friends , people tend to misunderstand her , has panic attacks , is afraid to fall in love extremely insecure of herself as a person and body , feels like star crossed , loves her mother more than herself ,is from science background . Loves to fantasize a lot and maintain mysterious aura ,has limited human interaction . Hopes to never hurt others, if you hurt me i stop interacting and you are now stranger ,

**to be updated in future ! ( Its a backgroud i might use for creating a story for my oc where you could understand her better ) **

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[bradfordchxn]

i don’t ship it…. HOWEVER

“we can’t keep doing this, stiles. scotts’ going to find out and he’s not going to like it”

“since when did you care what scott thinks?”

“since he’s your best friend and my alpha. he’ll choose you way before he chooses me and i need a pack”

“scott won’t care… besides, are you really trying to break up with me while standing there looking like that?”

“i’m being serious”

“i am too have you seen yourself?”

“we have to end it… tomorrow”

“thank god”

OR

“look, scott’s right. we need to go after the bad guy before they hurt anyone else and i think his plan probably has the best shot of working even though i think it’s ridiculous and— stiles… stiles!”

“what? oh sorry i um… uhh?”

“did you hear anything i just said?”

“uh yeah you said the um… the… no. no i didn’t”

“i’m putting a shirt on”

“no- i- i’m listening, i am—“

“you need to focus, stiles! peoples lives are at stake!”

“…they’ll still be at stake in an hour…”

“you’re unbelievable… get in here.”

[mari3f]

chapter 3

____________________________________________________

The moment Evangeline stepped into the gym, the outside world melted away. The hum of voices, the squeak of sneakers on polished floors, and the sharp clap of stunts being caught mid-air wrapped around her like a familiar song. It was warm here—loud and chaotic, but oddly comforting.

This was her escape.

She tugged her sweatshirt over her head and dropped her bag near the wall, slipping easily into a routine. Nessa waved from across the mats, mid-stretch, her dark brown hair swept up into a messy ponytail that somehow still looked effortlessly perfect.

"You're late," she teased, lifting an eyebrow.

"Barely," Evangeline replied, already sliding into a split beside her.

"You missed Lizzie's mini-meltdown over Loren's toe touches."

Evangeline sighed with a small smile. "Of course I did."

Across the gym, Lizzie stood with a clipboard in hand, her posture as rigid as her tone. She was locked in a one-sided conversation with Loren, whose nervous expression made it obvious she wasn't holding her own in the exchange.

"You'd think we were prepping for the Olympics," Nessa muttered under her breath.

"She just wants it perfect," Evangeline said, voice even. "Regionals are in three weeks."

"Yeah, but, like... I'd like to survive until then."

Evangeline snorted but kept her gaze on Lizzie. She admired her co-captain's intensity—most of the time—but Lizzie could take things too far when she got into one of her tunnel-vision moods.

"Circle up!" Lizzie's voice cut through the gym like a whistle.

The team scrambled into a circle. Bella gave Evangeline a dramatic "save me" look as she passed, and Peyton mock-saluted her on the way in. Loren looked like she wanted to disappear into the floor.

Lizzie stepped into the center, all steel and command.

"We're three weeks out from regionals. That means no more lazy arms, no more late starts, and no more excuses. If we're going to hit clean, we have to commit. Every single one of you."

Her words hung heavy in the air. Evangeline could feel the tension prickling between the girls. This wasn't motivation—it was pressure.

She stepped in, softer. "Let's warm up with a half-speed run-through and break down any trouble spots. No stress. We're just tuning up today."

Lizzie didn't respond, just handed off the clipboard and stepped back.

Practice started slow. The team stretched in sync, then moved to tumbling lines and stunts. Nessa's pass was crisp as always. Peyton flubbed her back tuck but landed on her feet. Bella almost fell out of her liberty but caught herself with a flourish that made Loren giggle from across the mat.

Evangeline moved through them, correcting forms gently, and offering encouragement. She could feel Lizzie's eyes on her the whole time—an unspoken disagreement stretching between them like a taut rope.

They reset for the first run-through of the full routine. The music started, and the energy shifted.

It wasn't terrible—but it wasn't clean either. Loren was half a count off, Madison dropped her flyer too early, and Bella mistimed the ripple. The pyramid nearly collapsed when someone hesitated on the second tier.

"Stop!" Lizzie barked, storming toward the center of the mats. "What even was that?"

"It was a first run," Evangeline said calmly, stepping between her and the team.

"We're past first runs," Lizzie snapped. "We don't have time to be cute and casual."

"We also don't have time to burn out," Evangeline shot back, still calm. "We'll reset. We'll fix it."

There was a long silence. The team didn't move.

Lizzie finally exhaled and turned away. "Five-minute water break. Then again—full-out."

Everyone scattered.

"Yikes," Bella muttered as she flopped next to Evangeline. "Tension is giving final act of a teen drama movie right now."

Evangeline gave a weak laugh and handed her a water bottle. "She's just stressed."

"She's gonna pop a blood vessel if she keeps bottling it up like that," Peyton said, stretching beside them. "Like, girl. Breathe."

Evangeline let her gaze wander over to Lizzie, who stood at the far end of the gym, arms crossed, chewing on the end of her pen. She was so focused, so determined—but sometimes it felt like she was trying to carry the whole team on her own shoulders.

Evangeline understood the feeling.

After the break, they ran the routine again—this time full-out. It still wasn't perfect, but it was better. Crisper. Cleaner. They stuck the final stunt, and for a moment, the tension dissolved into cheers and high-fives.

"That's the standard," Lizzie said firmly. "Don't dip below it."

As the team broke apart, everyone buzzed with that post-practice energy—tired, but relieved. Nessa was doing her cool-down beside Peyton, chatting quietly. Madison had finally ditched her phone. Bella was dancing off-beat near the mirror to a random pop song, and Loren had plopped face-down on the mat like a dramatic fainting goat.

Evangeline grabbed her bag and stretched her legs, letting herself breathe again.

"You good?" Nessa asked, walking over, still catching her breath.

Evangeline nodded. "Just tired. I have mathletes right after this."

"Ugh, I forgot you were still doing that." Nessa made a face. "You're way too smart."

Evangeline smiled but didn't answer. Her phone buzzed in her bag.

Mrs. Roberts: Don't forget the meeting. Library. Be on time.

She sighed, already feeling the weight of expectations pulling her back in.

"Tell the others I'll meet you guys at the dorm later?" she said, shouldering her bag.

Nessa nodded. "I'll make sure they save you popcorn. Bella's already plotting PS5 revenge against Lizzie."

"Of course she is."

As Evangeline left the gym, the buzz of the team faded behind her. She walked into the crisp air of early evening, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders.

The gym felt like home. But the pressure, the expectations—the whispers about January she couldn't outrun—they still followed her.

And despite the laughter, the routines, and the moments of lightness...

Something was still lurking beneath the surface.

[einsteinsugly]

Jackie Burkhart (born 1991), as a Millennial...

Still owns a Tamagotchi, and loves butterflies. And butterfly clips. Loves bedazzled anything (as long as it's not too tacky), little shrugs, babydoll tops, mini skirts, peasant skirts, gauchos, and "not trashy" halter tops.

Quotes Mean Girls, and also wants to be "thirty, flirty, and thriving" someday. Loves Laguna Beach and The Hills. Loves Gossip Girl, One Tree Hill, and The OC...

Jackie: Summer deserves so much better than Seth.

Eric (with a chuckle): Yeah, 'cause I'm Seth...

Jackie (loudly interrupting): Just like Ross deserves so much better than Rachel.

Eric (squeaking): I'm not Ross, I'm...

Jackie: Chandler? That's not much better, Eric.

Rachel Green is still her idol. Hates Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. Doesn't get the emo and pop punk scene. Doesn't get why Donna loves Paramore.

Oh, and she's a huge Britney fan. She always tells everyone to leave Britney alone.

*****

Plus: She always creates her "dream life" in the Sims, because of course she does.

Jackie: In the Sims, I'm an icon in the show business career, and you're a rock God in the music career. Not a stupid slacker, or a criminal. We have a beautiful mansion in Pleasantview, and we have three beautiful daughters. Gabrielle, after Coco Chanel. Sophia, after Sophia Loren, and because it means wisdom. And Mariah, after Mariah Carey...

Hyde groans.

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter nine: how to run from the mess you’ve made!

part ten of sudden desire

synopsis: marcus meets the parents.

word count: you’re crying. this is long. this is so damn long. this is 12.2k words and you’re crying.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, mentions of periods, alcohol consumption, strong language, angst, the briefest and barely noticeable references to sexy times

author’s note: i have nothing to say except jesus christ it’s so long (also i got hit with that text block limit, so couldn’t even add a gif???? don’t think anything got deleted but i can’t be sure! hopefully we’re okay!) also not beta’d because it’s so long and i’m lazy

“My parents are in town and they want to meet you.”

She breaks it to him over coffee in the early morning. It’s become practice for him to wake before her - her apartment or his, any day, any time - and have a mug of coffee waiting for her whenever she drags herself from the bed, seemingly too sprightly for 7:30, to greet him. It’s become their ritual, over the weeks, stealing moments over sunrise and coffee. Quiet mornings where caffeine and the quiet hum of the city lull them away from the precipice of dreamy delirium. Coraline hides herself behind the familiar mug like he hasn’t seen every part of her soul stripped bare. 

Judging by the look on Marcus’ face, it would have seemed as if Coraline had just told him one of them was dying. The colour has drained from his cheeks, pale, ghost-white and wide-eyed. He coughs, trying to play off his shock and utter bewilderment, and hide the way his jaw drops a little at the notion. “Erm... what?” His eyebrows raise in that almost playful, questioning way, like, reclining back on the sofa and trying to seem nonchalant about the entire situation, attempting to pull at some of his usually-cool demeanour to cover his worry. 

He knows Coraline can read him far too well to fall for it.

“I said-” There’s a small smirk that curves the corner of her lips. She can’t help it. “-my parents are in town-” Coraline leans forward and places her half-drunk mug of coffee on the cluttered coffee table. “-and they want to meet you.”

“They want to meet me? Why not Loren? You’ve known her longer.”

“They’ve known Loren for years and she dated my brother. You, on the other hand, they’ve never met.” Coraline chuckles and cocks her head to the side. She raises an eyebrow at him when his expression remains dumbfounded; or shocked or bewildered. Whatever it is, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. It’s unusual seeing him like this, without his usual air of confidence and poise. “Besides, you’re my best friend, dumbass.”

“I am?” There’s a swell of pride in his expression, now; it flickers there for a moment, before the uncertainty creeps back in. 

“Of course you are!” She tilts her head. Her hair falls over her shoulder, brushing against her collarbone and the skin of her shoulder where her sleep shirt has slipped down. “You already know that.”

He watches her for a moment. Warm eyes capture her gaze and she can’t tear herself away from him as he searches for something behind her eyes; she’s not sure what he’s looking for, and she’s not sure if she even offers up the answers. “Do they know about-” He motions between the two of them. He can’t find the right words to describe whatever it is between them. He’s not even sure there is a word to describe it. “-the agreement?”

“The baby stuff?” She questions, though she already knows what he means. Sometimes she has to remind herself, out loud, to assure herself that it’s not some kind of strange dream. “No, no. I don’t even know where to start with that.”

“What happens when you do get pregnant?”

“If I get pregnant-” she insists. She’s learnt not to get her hopes up; she’s part of a fickle industry, inevitable disappointment is familiar enough to her, now. “As far as they’re concerned, it was an accident. A very happy, not-entirely-accidental-or-unwelcome accident. That’s all they need to know.”

He exhales sharply and runs his hand over the stubble that covers his jaw. “And if they hate me?”

Coraline has to stifle a laugh against her coffee mug. Her lipstick leaves a half-moon of red against the ceramic. She’s sure she looks ridiculous; half dressed up, makeup done in only half an hour, in the dim morning light of her bedroom, hair still a tangled, pillow-tousled mess and in her pyjamas - or solely Marcus’ shirt and her underwear - from the night before. Still, when she’d entered the kitchen in search of caffeine, he’d looked at her like she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever laid eyes on. Sometimes, he makes her believe that she is. “Are you scared?” She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. His expression is wavering and it just makes her grin even wider. “Like they could ever hate you.” She thinks that might be the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said. Besides, she’s pretty sure her father would like anyone who made Coraline happy. And, God knows, Marcus makes her the happiest she’s ever been. “You’re pretty damn great, aren’t you?”

He hums out a laugh at her reply. “I try.”

“Look, if they don’t like you- but they will, I guarantee they will- then that’s their loss, and it won’t change my mind about how much I adore you.” She almost cringes at her choice of words; perhaps saying that you adored your best friend - your best friend who you were committed to having a child with, wasn’t the most articulate of choices. Adore was spared for lovers, which they definitely were not. “But, if you really don’t want to meet them, that’s fine. I’m not going to force you. But I just think that- maybe- it would be nice if they knew you before- well, y’know-”

“And you would introduce me as…?”

“Marcus, stop deflecting.” She prods him in the side and his face breaks out into a great beaming smile. “My best friend, hopeful future father of my child, Agent Marcus James Pike.” She clarifies, half-jokingly, with amusement in her voice.

“I’m not sure how well that would go over, Cora.”

She raises her eyebrows quickly then drops them with a resigned sigh. “Best to leave out the baby stuff for now, huh?” 

Her father is her oldest friend. They’ve always been close, a true daddy’s girl since she was two-years-old. He was so damn supportive of her dreams, the one who believed in her all those years ago when it seemed like no one else did. He’s part of the industry; behind the scenes, more into the music that soundtracked her performances than being in front of the camera, and preferring to stick around in not-so-sunny Michigan than move his entire family to California, where the highest demand was. Rather than persuading her against acting, pushing her away from the fickle world that was Hollywood, he wanted her to succeed. He never gave her a leg up or helped, just watched in adoration as she carved her own path.

But this, this was one thing she wasn’t entirely sure he would support. Maybe, if they were lucky, they’d catch him in a good mood. Maybe they’d be able to bring him around to the idea. 

She figured, however, that it was better just to call it all an accident and pretend that a pregnancy wasn’t meant to happen.

“Can you help me with the food? I can’t cook.”

“You can’t cook?” 

Coraline hits him on the arm with the back of her hand, lightly, pouting at him as he chuckles at her half-hearted fake offence. “Shut up, Pike.” Her hand clasps over her heart. “Oh, I’m wounded, I’m wounded.”

He leans forward and drops a quick, fleeting kiss to her cheekbone. His plush lips barely brush gently over the bone yet it still sends coils of searing heat through her chest. A smile blooms across her lips like a flower unfurling its petals. “Sorry, Sunshine.” He grins again as he stands and maneuvers over towards the kitchen. “As much as I would love to watch your attempts at achieving culinary excellence, I’ve got to work all week,” he tells her as he drops his half-empty coffee mug into the sink. He checks the time on his watch - 8:35, just enough time to pull himself together and make it into work - and rolls down his pushed-up sleeves. 

“Take the day off today. Call in sick or something.” She pouts, peeking out over the sofa as he fixes his tie and tugs on his suit jacket. “Help me shop and then prep things and cook and-”

Marcus stops dead as he moves to pull on his suit jacket. “They’re coming today?”

“Did I not mention that?” She squeaks.

“It slipped your mind, Sunshine.”

Coraline sighs and slides back into the thick sofa cushions, letting them swallow her whole. “They’ll be here at six.”

He leans against the wooden kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest, and smiles at her with that soft smile that inspires so much comfort within her. “I’ll be here at five.”

“You will?” Her face lights up and she practically leaps from the couch. In Marcus’ eyes, she radiates sunshine. “I’m so, so sorry about this, it was all so last minute because my dad’s been ill, and they were meant to go to Daniel’s instead, but he has to work late and-”

“It’s no problem, Cora.”

She pauses, measuring his expression. “That’s a lie, but I appreciate the support and optimism.”

“Well, there has to be one optimist in this relationship.”

Relationship. Only a friendship.

“Thank you, again,” she exhales tightly, watching as he scoops up his briefcase and keys. After the first month, they’d had the foresight to leave their stuff at each other’s houses; there are three of Marcus’ shirts hung at the edge of her closet and a couple of Coraline’s dresses tucked inside his; spare toothbrushes by the bathroom sink, deodorant on the dresser, shampoo by the shower. There’s no need for a mad, early-morning dash across town, now. Just relaxed mornings with coffee that slowly lure them awake. Marcus is dressed and ready to go, looking as handsome as ever as he checks he’s ready, before he steps out for the day.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, flashing her a dazzling, heartstopping smile. He drops a second fleeting and breathless kiss to her cheekbone before sweeping out of the front door.

Thank God for Marcus Pike.

...

He’s far more relaxed than he’d expected when he steps into Coraline’s apartment. His feet are aching and his back is rigid and tight with the weight of the day’s workload, but the comfort of her apartment is indescribable. The air in D.C. had been uncharacteristically hot; the city was thick with the cloying humidity of late-spring, the kind that sticks your clothes to your skin with an uncomfortable insistency. But Coraline’s apartment is a breath of fresh air; the AC is cranked up to ten and he sinks into comfort the moment he steps over the threshold. Perhaps it’s the low hum of music, whispering and slow and crackling gently as the vinyl spins in it’s customary circles, or the homely smell of the citrus and cotton candles she burns. Or, perhaps, it’s just her and the way she hums along to the crooning melody of Jeff Buckley. He wouldn’t mind returning home to this every day. The sight of her, living her life enraptured in bliss, carefree and happy, for the eyes of everyone else.

He knows this record is her favourite - a mismatch of songs that seem to have no reason to be on the same record, but somehow seem so utterly Coraline that he can’t help but think of her any time one graces the radio - but that she only plays it when she’s anxious. It’s one of her tells. And he wonders how long it’s taken for her to relax, how long it’s been since the tense set of her shoulders had finally relaxed and she’d melted into the mindless swaying of her body.

“Welcome home, honey,” her lilting voice calls over the music, in a mock sultry voice. It’s tipped with a carefree giggle and, though he can’t see his face, he knows she’s struggling to smother a wide smile. “Have a good day at work?” She asks without turning to look at him. She’s paying far more attention to what’s in front of her, meticulously chopping vegetables like doing it wrong would spell the end of the world.

“It was fine. Lot of paperwork.” Marcus shrugs off his suit jacket, rolls up his sleeves to his elbows and meanders through towards the kitchen where Coraline is. “What are we making?”

“Erm- well- chicken, I guess?” She can feel the weight of his amused gaze upon her face. “Don’t look at me like that. I bought chicken, I just don’t know what to make with it.”

“One of these days, I’m going to teach you how to cook. Save you from living on takeout and cold food.”

“At least I eat vegetables. Things could be a lot worse.”

He glances over at her, skeptical, as he takes over, surveying the groceries Coraline has lined up along the countertop. She’d bought stuff blindly at the store; stuff she knew Marcus liked, knew her parents liked, knew her nephews would actually eat, and had somehow ended up with two full bags of groceries, half of which she has no idea how to cook. The other half, she has no clue whether Marcus has any use for. Hindsight was a wonderful thing and she’d wished she’d called him at the office to ask what the hell she needed to buy at the store. It’s useful, she assumed, because at least she’s prepared. But there’s definitely such a thing as being over prepared, and it’s almost embarrassing to see the result of her panic buying.

“Cooking’s pretty easy,” he explains, cherry-picking ingredients from the far-too-neatly and meticulously stacked pile and examining them. “Just try not to burn anything.” 

“Okay, okay, Gordon Ramsay. What are we eating for dinner?”

...

Coraline has no idea what he’s made. She knows what’s in it, but what they make, what they taste like together, she’s hopelessly clueless. She’d helped out as much as she could, chopping vegetables, tucking away the things he didn’t need, but he moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. He’s always proclaimed he isn’t a cook - at least, he’s never claimed to be a bad one, or, at least, not as terrible as Coraline seems to be - and they always tend to settle on takeout and quick breakfasts, whenever they’re together, but the way he’d navigated things seems second nature to him. Still, whatever he’s made, it smells good - amazing, in fact - as it cooks slowly in the oven beside them.

Coraline sits atop the counter, legs swinging idly in front of her. She sips at her glass of merlot, restraining herself, wishing she could just down the damn thing and pour another, and another, and another. “Hmm, liquid courage,” she hums as she takes a sip of the crimson liquid. It’s more to herself than to Marcus, though he seems to hear and chuckle to himself, rolling his pushed-up shirt sleeves back down over his wrists and retying his tie that had been neatly folded over the back of a barstool since he came in. 

She feels a little guilty for drinking, though she’d just finished her period, their efforts of trying for a baby seemingly unsuccessful. But the cramps in her stomach are still overwhelming and her eyelids still feel endlessly heavy. Wine seems to be the best - and the only - solution to her situation. Wine and ice cream. Lots and lots of ice cream. “Want some?” She offers out the half-empty bottle for him when he notices her watching her, settling his tie against the hollow of his throat, neat and proper. 

“I’m good for now.” He refuses, crossing his arms over his chest. His shirt pulls over his back and shoulders when he moves and the curve of his muscles are visible beneath the white cotton of his shirt. “I’d rather be sober when I meet your parents.” 

He’d laughed earlier, laughed at him being so strung up over meeting them. That it wasn’t as if they were getting married, and they were his soon-to-be-in-laws. They weren’t the bearers of brutal bad news or the rulers of Coraline’s life, either. And he knows her well enough that she’s sure she’ll never forget him because her parents don’t like him. And that, if they don’t like him, it isn’t entirely the end of the world. At least, that’s what he’d told her. But it would be the end of the world, to him; she means the world to him, more than she even realises, and they would be the grandparents of their child, after all. They’d be important to them and to Coraline and, if they were anything like Marcus’ parents, they’d love that baby more than the air that they breathed, more than anything else in the world, and more than they ever thought possible. He’s an only child and the bearer of all that love and adoration they had to offer for so long. And he has no doubt that Coraline’s parents feel the same way about her.

“They’ll love you, Marcus,” she insists. Coraline sets her wineglass down beside her on the countertop and leans forward, hands braced either side of her thighs as she glares at him over the rim of her glasses. She wears them whenever she’s stressed; she rubs her eyes a lot - something about fidgeting and idle hands, an unconscious distraction - and contact lenses don’t tend to fare too well when the days drag on and the night arrives. She’s had sore eyes by 6pm far too many times. “You don’t have to worry about it. Just be the same brilliant man you always are and I’m sure you’ll all be best friends in no time.”

He snorts out a breathy laugh through his nose. “Maybe you’ll be bumped down to second place.”

“Hey!” She jabs a finger in his direction playfully and tilts her head, cocking an eyebrow as he smirks at her. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“No one could ever replace you, Sunshine.” His smirk melts into a fond smile, the kind that practically melts her whenever she sees the way his warm eyes revere her, as if she’s a long-thought-lost painting he’s laying eyes on for the first time. She’s quite fond of the way he makes her feel as if she actually means something in the world.

“They better not.” She fakes a pointed glare in his direction. “Good luck getting rid of me now.” She grins, beaming.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he insists, pushing off the counter opposite her to check the time on the oven. He settles back against the counter again, beside her this time. An embarrassing groan almost slips from her lips, involuntarily and likely painfully loud, when she smells his cologne. It blooms out in front of him when he moves, that gentle and familiar scent that she could recognise a mile away. It’s warm spice mixes with the soft scent of his shampoo and Coraline feels the last trickles of anxiety bleed from her as she takes it in. It relieves the terrible tension that holds stoic and unwavering in her shoulders.

“Used to play this song with my band.” He snaps her from her reverie with another revelation, the warmth of his voice only serving to help the winding down of the tension within her. At least with him here, things feel fine again. She’s sure that things will be fine. But she isn’t entirely sure her parents liked Scott too much - not right for her, too unenthusiastic and seemingly full of himself - but Marcus? Marcus is the opposite. There’s no reason why they won’t like him; he’s sweet and kind and considerate and wonderful, cares about her and everything that she does, cares about her happiness and sits to listen without complaint to all her problems and fears. He asks her how her day has been, unprompted. Her dad has only ever wanted that for her, even if this was only in the form of a friend, not in a lover.

“You did?” She raises an eyebrow. Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears plays quietly over the speakers. She doesn’t know what kind of music she’d expected Marcus to make in college, but somehow this isn’t it. When he’d told her about the short-lived tongue piercing and his self-proclaimed ‘punk’ phase, she’d pictured the Sex Pistols and the Ramones, not this soft pop rock that soundtracked her teenage years. It’s a sight she longs to see. now; she can’t imagine anything but sweet, gentlemanly Marcus and his suits, when the edgiest she’d seen him dress being a leather jacket and jeans on his days off.

Marcus has never been one to shy away from that part of his life - he jokes about it all more than she does, the edgy phase of college rebellion, those first years away from home - but she’s yet to see photographic evidence of such escapades. Every time she asks, pleads, eve, batting her eyelashes and smiling as sweetly as she can muster, his cheeks flush and he ducks his head, and brushes off her request with a joke or a second, more appealing suggestion. He has no reason to be embarrassed, though; he’s seen the worst of her, even her ‘goth’ phase in high school, which was really nothing more than her wearing black lipstick everyday for a couple of months. There’s a playful glint in her eyes as she reminds him of the lack of proof. “I’m still waiting on those videos, y’know.”

“I have to prepare before I show you them.”

“Oh, please. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’ve seen that old horror movie I was in,” she reminds him. The horror movie in question, which ended in her soaked in blood and limping around with an axe trailing behind her, was not the cinematic masterpiece the director hoped it would be. It’s a shame, really, because Coraline watches far too many horror films in her spare time, even the cheesy ones that it’s fun to poke fun at. She’d at least like to be in a good one.

She reaches down to pour herself a second, probably unwise and ill-thought-out glass of wine. Some nights, it only takes a couple of glasses before she’s tipsy and talking shit she can’t seem to control. Marcus sideeyes her, cocking an eyebrow in silent question, but he doesn’t seem to stop her. He doesn’t blame her, and he’ll steal away the wine the second he notices the tell-tale blush of intoxication that blooms across her cheeks.

“I’m not worried about being embarrassed,” he remarks, “I’m worried about you having your mind blown. Have to think of a way to lessen the blow.”

“Oh, is that so?” She chuckles, tipping her head back against the kitchen cupboard behind her head. “Well, I look forward to having my mind blown.” Her face lights up in realisation; her head snaps towards Marcus and she grins. “Can you still play?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He hums. “

“I’m not worried about being embarrassed. I’m worried about you having your mind blown. Have to think of a way to lessen the blow.”

“Is that so?” She chuckles, tipping her head back against the kitchen cupboard behind her head. “Well, I look forward to it.” Her face lights up in realisation; her head snaps towards Marcus and she grins. “Can you still play?”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He hums. 

There’s a moment of pleasant silence when the music fills the sweet air. The song lulls to a close and the next begins, slow and melodic and easy. It’s one of Coraline’s favourites - Songbird by Fleetwood Mac - and her eyes pull closed as she listens to the mellow chorus of the piano. It tangles with the silence, dancing between the quiet, empty moments. “I love this song.” She sighs, eyes slipping closed.

“Dance with me.”

Coraline snorts out a jolt of laughter. “What?”

“Dance with me, Sunshine,” he repeats.

“Why?” She giggles. Her eyes are still closed as she hums along quietly to the lyrics.

“Because-” She feels him push away from the counter and settle in front of her. One hand curves around her knee, his thumb brushing short, small circles to the inside. “-it’ll take your mind off things,” he insists. 

Coraline cracks an eye open. He’s inches from her, brown eyes almost irresistible, so difficult to refuse when he looks at her like this. The candlelight flickers and turns his irises to pools of amber and gold. “I can’t dance.”

“I’ll teach you.” He states simply. 

She searches his expression for an ulterior motive. Not that she expects there to be one; there never is with Marcus. He never expects anything back in return for favours or good deeds, is just content with his acts of kindness as long as they make someone smile. He holds his hand out for her in expectation.

She takes it.

“Fine. But only one song.”

His face lights up. Like sunshine. “That’s all I want.”

His hands are gentle when they curve around her waist. He holds her close so gently, fingers pressing soft into the plush flesh of her hips, feather-light. Her heart almost stops when she feels his breath against her neck and she can’t help the sharp inhale that rips through her chest. She hopes he doesn’t hear, but she doesn’t think she’ll be that lucky. Her arms slip around his neck; she wants to hold him close, impossibly close, until the cold that always seems to plague her and all of her fear floats away, until they simply don’t exist anymore. 

“What do I do?” She whispers.

“You’ve never been slow dancing before?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

“I did at my wedding but-” She chews on her lip as she ducks her head. His hands hold her hips a little tighter. “-I don’t think his heart was really in it.

Marcus watches her until she finally lifts her head again. Deft fingers the brush the brunette stands of her hair back from her forehead, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. The intoxicating scent of his cologne consumes her again; it’s rich and brilliant and she really isn’t sure why today, of all days, it’s inspiring some kind of wonderful delirium inside her. She figures it’s the alcohol, already too much before her parents arrived, just like she’d feared.

“Well, that’s his loss, Sunshine. Everyone should slow dance at least once in their life.”

He starts to sway along to the music, steady, in time to the dreamlike rhythm of Fleetwood Mac. She tries her best to follow his movements but she still feels like, somehow, she’s doing it wrong. She’s never been a good dancer, even despite the ballet lessons her mom had signed her up for when she was young, but it turns out she’s even worse than she’d thought. She’s not sure how she’s possibly able to get something as simple as slow dancing wrong. Her feet just don’t work in time with the rest of her body.

“Like this?” Her voice is small, almost a squeak.

Marcus’ hand slides into the small of her back, gently pushing her hips closer into him. It’s easier like this, with him closer, to keep in time with his movements. “Just like that.” He whispers against her ear. “You’ve got it.”

She can feel her heart beating at a mile a minute. It’s hammering right behind her ribcage and she’s sure that Marcus is close enough to feel its rapid thumping against his own chest. Still, she melts into his embrace and their movements become second nature. It’s lovely and it’s comfortable and, he’s right, it does take her mind off of her anxious jitters. The sporadic flickers of the candlelight illuminate the contours of his face when she finally drags her eyes up from their feet - she’d been watching their measured movements so she doesn’t put a foot wrong - and they highlight the fondness in his expression. 

“What?” She murmurs quietly, through the melodic silence. He doesn’t answer; his gaze maps out every curve of her face.

The intoxicating scent of his cologne consumes her; it’s rich and brilliant and she isn’t sure why today, of all days, it’s inspiring some kind of wonderful delirium inside her. She figures it’s the alcohol, already too much before her parents have even arrived, just like she’d feared. She fights against the fluttering of her own eyelids. 

“I like this dress,” he whispers, running his fingers over the soft silk material of her summer dress. He holds the strap between his thumb and forefinger and smiles. She’s pretty sure that this is his veiled attempt at trying to distract them both away from their fixed stares. “Is it new?” The soft pad of his thumb brushes against her collarbone; she has half the mind to pull away, step back from where he’s pressed flush against her, but every single shred of rational thought leaves her whenever he gets close enough. Coraline has to keep reminding herself that this isn’t how you’re meant to feel about your best friend, and she can usually manage to push those thoughts aside and remind herself how he feels about her; that he sees her as a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

She can only nod, words catching in her throat. It feels as if every inch of her body is closing in on itself, wrapping itself in thick tension that claws relentlessly from inside her chest. “Bought it last week.” She shakes her head clear the best that she can. Goddamn alcohol. Her throat is screaming out for water. Marcus continues running the thin strap of her dress though his fingers, digits unintentionally brushing against her skin. It’s entirely innocent, and he means nothing by it. She isn’t even sure he realises what he’s doing; his gaze is firmly set on her again, brown eyes almost transfixed by her bottle green stare. 

Coraline swallows through the thick lump that labours her breathing. “I-”

She has to admit that she’s more than a little relieved when there’s an insistent knock on the door. Half an hour earlier than there’s meant to be.

Coraline takes advantage of the distraction and untagles herself from Marcus’ featherlight grip, right as the song ends and bleeds into the next, feeling utterly pathetic for the feeling that has poured over her. “Buckle up!” She tries to sound enthusiastic, clapping her hands together, but it almost certainly falls flat. Marcus watches her as she drifts towards the door, like she’s floating on air, despite the awkward shuffling of her feet against the hardwood floors. She turns to flash him a sunshine smile as she reaches for the doorknob - a smile that calms his endlessly restless soul - before she pulls open her front door with an exaggerated grin to let her parents in.

“Dad!” Her sweet voice rings out in joy at the sight of her father, looking surprisingly healthy now and, finally, back on his feet. She’s been calling him everyday, since he’d first been in hospital, months and months of phone calls just to check that he was still okay. She’s immeasurably relieved to see him okay, and smiling back at her.

“Corrie.” He returns her grin - their resemblance is startling when they smile, Marcus notes - and they’re hugging each other tightly. They haven’t seen each other in six months, her parents too busy to visit her and Daniel in D.C. Marcus knows it’s difficult for Coraline, given how close she is to her dad - and her mom, too - and how long she’d battled with herself all those years ago before she’d even moved to California. “Oh, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she insists as he releases her from his embrace, and she moves to greet her mom with an equally bright smile. “I missed you both, so much.”

The whole time Marcus is standing there, unsure what to do with his hands. He feels like a teenager again. With that near-debilitating awkwardness that came with meeting his first girlfriend’s parents all those years ago, it’s not too different, now. Sure, he’s much more confident than he was then and he’d grown into himself, much more practiced in meeting new people, talking to people. Hell, part of his job even included intimidating suspects, on occasion. But he feels as if he’d been reduced to the same love-sick, acne-ridden teen, sure that the girl he’d been dating for a week was the one for him. 

(They’d broken up two weeks later). 

“Marcus-” Her voice calling him - always like a song when she calls his name - lures him back to reality. “-this is my dad, Robert, and my mom, Celine. But- but you already know that.” She tells him so much about her childhood, high school, growing up, everything, that she’s sure it seems like he already knows them. He can tell she’s flustered and hiding it behind a vibrant smile. “-mom, dad, this is Marcus.”

“Marcus!” Robert grins at him and his resemblance to his daughter is even more apparent, beyond their smile; the same eyes, the same little creases at the corners when their faces light up, even down to the way their noses jut out a little at the ends, curving upwards, ever-so-slightly. “Glad to see Corrie hasn’t scared you away, yet.” He jibes lightheartedly. 

“Hey!” Coraline calls out in protest as she hugs her mom, swaying side-to-side a little as they greet each other for the first time in months. 

“My darling,” she coos as she holds Coraline close. “I missed you more than you know.”

“I missed you too, mom.”

Robert reaches out to shake Marcus’ hand, with a glint in his eyes at his playful jab at Coraline, and he gratefully accepts. “Glad you could come tonight, I know it was very last minute.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Sir,” he insists. He turns to Coraline’s mom as she approaches with an outstretched hand. She’s never been one for the ‘one-kiss-on-each-cheek’ kind of greeting with anyone but her kids. “Ma’am.” He nods her head a little in both of their directions. His Texan accent comes out far stronger than usual when he greets them. She wonders if it’s a nervous tick he has; she’s never seen him nervous before, he’s never had a reason to be nervous around her, not really. 

“Call me Robert,” he insists. 

Coraline watches on fondly as the three of them — Marcus, and her mother and father —melt into conversation. It comes so easy to him, conversation. He’s a natural with people. She doesn’t know why either of them were ever worried about their meeting; Marcus is great, as always, but sometimes her parents seem to come on a little too strong after a while (she knows Kimmy had been more than a little intimidated by them when she’d first met them). 

They’re already laughing and joking, her father’s hand on his shoulder fondly, like they’ve known each other for longer than a couple of minutes. Maybe it seems like they have; Cora is always annoyingly aware of how much time she spends talking about each of them, especially Marcus, to the other that it wouldn’t be surprising if they could each fill a book with stories she’s recounted to them with delight and fondness. 

“So, Corrie-“ Her father claps her hands together and it almost startles her. She’s been gazing at the three of them chatting for so long that it almost seems weird. She’s glad that it draws her out of it and back to reality. “-what delights are you serving us tonight?” Amusement glints in his eyes. 

“Oh, I see how it is.” She quirks an eyebrow, tilts her head and grins. Her hair falls over her shoulder, a waterfall of waves that brush soft against the curve of her neck. “Tell me, dad, whenever will the wonders of 2001’s Christmas casserole grace our tables again?”

“She’s feisty tonight.” He chuckles, stepping forward to kiss his daughter on the head.

“Actually-” Coraline glances fondly over at Marcus. He and her mom are half in conversation, half watching Cora and her dad’s playful little jabs towards each other. “-Marcus cooked.”

“Oh, thank God. Celine, we don’t have to order in at the hotel tonight,” he calls back over her shoulder and his wife grins at him in amusement, then over at her daughter with such a palpable fondness that it practically radiates from her.

Coraline pokes her dad sharply in the arm with the tip of her nail. “Hey!” She protests, shuffling off into the kitchen, but she can never bring herself to be mad at him. And she can quip back just as easy. “Don’t be rude, we have guests.” 

Marcus’ heart almost stops when she throws a bright smile over her shoulder, curls bouncing against her shoulders and down her back. It lights up the room in its sunshine glory. Though her smile mirrors that of her mother and father, there’s something about hers that reaches her eyes and is utterly brilliant.

He’s sure that it’s the favourite of all the smiles he’s ever seen.

Coraline reaches up to draw the plates from the cabinets. She knows that they have more than enough time to spare before the food is ready, but if she doesn’t keep her hands busy, she worries that she’ll end up panicking again. She’s only just shaken the worries, she’d hate for them to return and for her thoughts to carry on their racing, at a mile a minute.

“How are you doing, kiddo?” Her father’s voice is low though it’s not like Marcus and her mom are listening; they’re laughing, the corners of his eyes wrinkled in that way that Coraline loves. She wouldn’t mind if either of them heard, though. She has nothing to hide.

“Better.” She sighs, a gentle blissful smile. She tries to stop herself from looking too manic, but she can feel a grin threatening to pull at her cheeks. “Much better, now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” There’s relief in his eyes. It’s soft and endearing, and it seems as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders when he sees her smile so dazzling, so genuine. His voice drops a little, almost to a whisper. “Marcus seems nice.” 

“He’s great, isn’t he?” She sighs. “He’s really great.”

...

Daniel, Kimmy and the kids arrive right on time. 

Not that they needed them there. 

Marcus Pike is a natural. If even half of him was even the slightest bit nervous when he’d stepped into her apartment that evening, she can’t tell.  

He’d eased his way into conversation with everyone around him, like he’d known them all for years. He’d answered all their questions without issue, made them laugh with his stories and laughed at their jokes, even those of her father’s that made Daniel and Coraline roll their eyes. 

Cora’s apartment isn’t small, but it’s barely big enough to hold all of them, and chaos reigns as Elliot and Finley race around the apartment, tailed closely by their Grandfather. It’s great to see how close they are, close for two boys who see their grandparents over FaceTime more than they do in person. Celine keeps telling him to slow down as she sits with a sleeping and incredibly content Piper in her arms - he’s just got out of hospital, and his lungs weren’t exactly up to scratch before then - but even she can’t help but smile as the boys giggle gleefully when he grabs them and hauls them into his arms.

They’re all still smiling when they sit down to eat, the boys bouncing in their seats just being around their grandparents for the first time in months. Coraline thinks their delight sets Marcus at ease more than he already is; it dissolves any awkward tension, the kind that comes as custom with any first meeting, that may be lingering in the air, and it’s as if everyone around the table are family or old friends, not unfamiliar with the man sat next to her, and, If it weren’t for the worry stirring in the pit of her stomach, making her feel so sick that she feels like she might just throw up all over the floor of her dining room, she’d be smiling just as wide, too. 

But every time her father sees Marcus smile at her or brush past her with the smallest of whispered and sincere apologies, and a large hand splayed gentle across her small of her back, she knows he’s just itching to ask her for every single little detail about their relationship; if they’re more than friends, if they’re together, if anything ever could come of their friendship beyond that. He means well and he just wants her to be happy. But she’s been warning him off asking with his eyes - even insisted in between one quiet moment when Marcus was using the bathroom that they were just that, very close friends and nothing more - but the notion of their agreement has been hanging heavy within her chest. It’s been weighing her down and anxiety has been churning wild inside her stomach. Even the wine isn’t helping; that age-old idiom of ‘liquid courage’ turning out to be a fallacy. If anything, it was only stirring the worry up into a veritable cyclone of terror.

Attention turns back to Coraline, eventually. They’ve drawn all they can from Marcus - what he does for work, where he lives and where he grew up - and Daniel and Kimmy - how the art gallery is going, how the kids are finding their new school (both far too distracted to answer for themselves), how they’re finding their new home now they have Piper - so that left Coraline and the extremely tender and previously untouched topic of her personal life. She knows there’s certain questions that they won’t ask out loud, at least, not with Marcus and the kids around, but she can feel the terrible urge to spill all her secrets growing stronger with each well-meaning but incredibly loaded question that they ask. She smiles through it, answers casually, but eventually the tether snaps and her words come tumbling out before she has a chance to stop them.

“We’re having a baby,” Coraline blurts out. “Me and Marcus,” she adds, like it isn’t obvious who she means. Her words are quick and jumbled but obvious enough that the room falls into a stunned, stifling silence. Everyone seems to drop their cutlery, a chorus of metal against porcelain, to stare at her. “Well- I mean- not yet, we’re- I’m not pregnant, yet- but, I-” She rambles. She’s well aware that her face is burning the brightest red, raspberry flushed across her cheekbones.

Marcus can tell that she’s been practically bursting at the seams since they’d sat down. She’d been shifting uncomfortably, feet bushing along the old rug beneath their feet, bumping haphazardly into his, and he could hear her hands brushing over the soft material of her dress awkwardly. She’s been smiling the entire time, laughing at every joke and embarrassing story her mom tells, though he can tell that smile was beginning to wear thin after a while. When attention turned to her and away from him and Daniel, Kimmy and the kids. The revelation had finally burst out but - despite the momentary look of relief that had flashed upon her expression - she looks even more tense at the reaction of her parents.

“You’re what?” Her father questions, eyebrows raising, words coming out in some sort of awkward splutter. His green eyes dart between the pair of them, sitting across from him, side-by-side and frozen like deers in headlights, Coraline can’t help but notice the way his smile had dropped, immediately, the moment the words had left her lips. His indecisive scowl was stark, in comparison to how he’d seemed before.

“I just-” Coraline takes in a sharp breath. The force of it almost hurts her lungs. “-we’re having a baby together and I don’t know when but we are and I just want you to love Marcus like I do because he’s my best friend and he actually wanted to do this for me- for us- and how often would you find someone who would agree to this kind of thing-”

“Cora, you’re rambling,” Daniel cuts in, voice soothing and low, willing to help her as she panics and panics and panics.

Marcus’ hand finds her underneath the table. She grasps his tight in both hands, tugging it into her lap and clinging to his digits for dear life. His thumb runs those slow, reassuring circles across her skin - the ones that are so gentle they’re but a tickle against the back of her hand - and she finds herself easing into his touch. “Breathe.” His voice is just as comforting as the circles he brushes into her skin.

Neither of her parents talk, just stare, stunned, and the entire table falls back into that awkward, thickened and suffocating silence. Elliot and Finley blink around at them all, confused and not entirely registering what Coraline had said, now what any of this meant. For two boys usually so rambunctious, loud and exuberant, their silence has come at the most uncomfortable of times. Daniel seems to be searching for the right words to say but nothing seems to come close to being the right thing to say in this situation. 

She’s not sure what anyone can say in this situation.

She should have stuck to the whole ‘accidental pregnancy’ excuse, instead.

“It’s just-” Coraline looks over at Marcus for reassurance, though even his warm eyes don’t seem to offer much in the way of comfort. “I want a baby. I really want a baby. Even before the divorce,” she continues, “I just- I want to be a mom and I want a family of my own, so bad. So, me and Marcus are trying.”

“But you’re not together?” Robert Meyer’s finger draws an invisible string between the pair of them. 

“I- no?” Her voice rises high and she sounds ridiculous. She knows that isn’t what he wants to hear. “He’s my best friend-” She clarifies, “-but we’re not together, not like that.”

Marcus has no clue what to say, every word dies heavy on his tongue and nothing seems right. Everything he can think to say would surely only serve to make this a thousand times worse than they already are. The exchange is happening so fast, too, that he wouldn’t even be able to get a word in, otherwise.

“Well, that sounds… lovely,” Celine proclaims and claps her hands together. Coraline is sure that she doesn’t mean to sound insincere, but it still comes out sounding that way. A little sarcastic, almost. If she didn’t know her mother, she would surely be offended, but at least she understands that it was never intended that way. 

But Marcus doesn’t know her well enough to know that.

“And what do you think about this?” Robert’s questioning turns to Daniel. His eyebrows raise and he glowers at him expectantly.

He takes a deep breath, takes in a sharp breath through his nose and leans back in his seat. He manages a smile despite the tension that has settled thick throughout the room. Coraline’s hand tightens around Marcus’ - almost enough to be painful, but he doesn’t care, at this point - when Daniel smiles at his father. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“You do?” 

Marcus hears Coraline sigh at the sound of her father’s incredulity. It’s a resigned sigh, one of those truly gut wrenching and downtrodden sighs that breaks his heart. “I should go,” Marcus leans into her to whisper. “I think I might be making things worse-”

“No, please,” Coraline insists, tugging her hand into her lap so that he can’t leave. He knows, maybe, he should, because her father probably hates him by now. But he’s not sure he could leave her. That, if he were to leave, he’d just end up coming straight back, staying by her side for as long as she needs, until she’s smiling again. 

He loves to see her smile.

“She’s great with kids, why is it an issue?” Daniel questions. 

“And she won’t be doing this alone, I’m in this for the long haul,” Marcus insists. He notices Celine smile at her out of the corner of his eye. Coraline’s hand squeezes his and her breathing levels out, just ever so slightly.

“I have thought about this, dad. I haven’t just rushed into it-”

“We should go.” 

“No, dad, wait, please-“

“I’m not sitting around listening to you try and justify your ridiculous decisions, Cora,” he snaps and she flinches. She’s not sure she’s ever heard him angry before; she’s always been one of those stereotypical ‘daddy’s girls’, could never do anything wrong in her life in his eyes, but now he’s looking at her with so much disappointment and dismay that she just wants to curl up into herself and cry until she’s so exhausted she falls asleep. She hates it, she hates this.

Though she can’t bring herself to regret the decision she’s made with Marcus.

“I could talk to him.” Marcus proposes. It’s quiet in her ear so that only she can here, but no one else is paying attention; Robert is talking to Celine, trying to keep his voice level as she reprimands him for raising his voice in front of ‘a guest’, and Daniel is talking to Kimmy, though he can’t hear what they’re talking about. Coraline leans back into him a little, feeling comfortable with the weight of his shoulder pressed against hers, sturdy and steady and present, but shakes her head in refusal.

He doesn’t want to put his foot in it. He wants them to like him. He wants Coraline to like him.

“I-”

“Dad, come on,” Daniel insists, “Let’s talk about this.”

“Did you know about this? Before tonight?” 

“Robert.”

“Yes, I knew. And I’ll support her. I don’t see what the big deal is-”

“Wow, it’s 8pm already?” He glances up at the clock that ticks monotonous and regular on the wall. He formulates his excuse to leave; Coraline can see it click, it’s obvious in his eyes. “Celine, we have to go,” Robert grumbles as he stands. “Thank you for the meal, Marcus. It was nice to meet you.” Her father may not sound overly sincere - his voice is stiff and his face is unreadable - but at least she knows that he’s polite enough not to take his frustrations out on Marcus. Cora knows, in his eyes, he’s done nothing wrong, and that Coraline is surely the only one he’s mad at because he cares about her and the decisions that she makes that might be terrible for her.

“Boys-” Kimmy turns to her sons. “-why don’t we go and watch some TV, huh?”

They both spring from their seats immediately, charging towards Coraline’s couch, so fast that it’s as if they’re running for their lives. She doesn’t think they were even paying attention to the conversation; when Coraline was younger, she’d never paid much attention to what her parents and family and their friends were saying around the dinner table, more interested in her brothers than their conversations. Finley and Elliot always seemed to be in their own little worlds, too, unless they had questions for someone. In which case, there was no way to get a word in without them shouting their enquiries over you. Thankfully for them all, they’d seemed more interested in whatever they’d been ferociously giggling about than Coraline and Marcus’ agreement, and their grandfather’s sudden and stoic disapproval. They’re probably too young to understand, anyway, beyond the notion of what a baby is. 

“Come on, dad. Don’t be ridiculous,” Daniel speaks up.

“Dad, please.” Coraline stands to face her father but her hands shake and she shuffles uncomfortably. She’s not sure what to say or how to say it, or how the hell to make him stop hating her. 

“I should probably be the one to leave.” Marcus pushes his chair back, gently, in resignation. “You can talk, then-” 

“Oh, don’t leave on my behalf, Marcus.” Robert claps his hand on Marcus’ shoulder like he’s an old friend. “It’s getting late. It’s time for us to leave, anyway.” He turns and smiles at his wife. He holds out his hand to help her up; she takes his hand but drops his hand to cross her arms and quirk an eyebrow at him sceptically. 

“Robert, I think that we should stay and talk about this, rather than running away.” 

He gives a long, sharp exhale of breath. “I can’t. Not tonight. I just- I need to think about this.”

“Dad- I’m sorry.”

“Goodnight, Dan-” He nods at his eldest son. “Goodnight, Coraline, Marcus.”

No Corrie. No nickname. Just Coraline. He hasn’t called her that in a long time. Her full name, when it comes from him, always spells trouble. She’s heard so many jokes about how she can do no wrong in her father’s eyes - it was the same case with her mother and her brothers - but she’d never really believed anyone when they’d said that. Until now. It’s glaringly obvious when he calls out her full name, without the bright smile and sparkle in his eyes. 

Her heart sinks to her stomach and she’s not sure that she’ll ever be able to pick it back up again. 

He’s gone in a hurry. He ruffles his grandson’s hair and bids farewell to Kimmy, all the usual smiles he hadn’t wasted on Coraline and Daniel aimed at them, instead, and heads for his shoes and jacket, and then the door, with such haste it’s as if there’s a fire in the building and he needs to find his way out. The smile he turns to give them all before he opens the front door is barely a whisper of his usual and there’s an ice cold bolt of terrifying lightning that shoots through her, only alleviated by Marcus’ hand on her back. 

“Are you okay?” His lips drop close to her ear. His breath stirs the hair by her neck and cheek, and she can feel the brush of his stubble against her neck and behind her ear. She’s so close that it feels strange when there are so many people around, even if it feels so normal for him to be beside her, like this. She shudders a little at the tickle. She can’t help it. It’s like she’s intoxicated, lost in that haze of worry and fear and the comfort of Marcus as he stands so close behind her.

“I don’t know,” Cora admits. Her voice trembles, even as she tries to keep it steady. Marcus wants to take her into his arms and hold her tight until she’s okay again. He knows he can’t do anything to fix this, but he’d be damned if he didn’t want to at least try. 

“My darling, Coraline.” Her mother’s voice comes soft and soothing and, as she hurries towards her daughter, Coraline has to step away from Marcus. It comes reluctantly, and the cold flash of worry that had spilt over her - like being doused in a bucket of ice - finds its way back to her skin. “He will be okay, I promise you. You will be okay,” she insists. Her delicate hand cups her jaw, thumb brushing over her face reassuringly. “Think this through, talk it over with Marcus, and I will talk to your father tonight. Do not worry, darling, we will sort this out.”

Coraline sniffles, wrinkles her nose and brushes the freshly-fallen tears away from her damp cheeks. She hadn’t even realised she was crying until her mom brushed them away. “Thanks, mom.” She smiles the best she can but it’s weak and pathetic. At least she knows that her mom won’t judge her for her shaky half-smile and watery eyes. She’d been there for all her high school heartbreaks and then her divorce over FaceTime, but she’d also seen her cry over Hot Cheetos and mud on her shirt. Her mom could never make her feel embarrassed for crying over anything.

“Now, come here.” Celine holds her daughter close, brushes her fingers through her hair as it drops over her forehead and kisses her temple, delicate. “You’ll always be my little girl, you know that?” She taps her nose, inspiring a smile. “Think this through, really think all of this through, okay? I will call you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, please.” 

Celine turns to Marcus and smiles a bright smile. “Thank you, Marcus. It was so lovely to meet you.”

“It was lovely to meet you, too, ma’am. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name in Cora’s stories.”

She smiles and squeezes his arm gently. “Please, call me Celine. I’m sorry for tonight, things aren’t usually so tense.”

“Don’t apologise,” he insists. “I’ll look out for her tonight.”

“I know you will.” Her smile is so genuine and sympathetic, thankful and relieved. “Goodnight, my darling.” She hums as she kisses Coraline’s forehead, with the intention of comfort. It seems to work; the rigid set of her shoulders gives way for just a moment, until she watches her leave with about as enthusiastic goodbye as she can muster for her grandkids; even Piper, who’d managed to sleep in her travel seat almost the entire time. Coraline sinks back into him the moment her mom’s figure disappears behind the front door.

She turns to him the moment the door clicks closed. She can’t seem to face looking him in the eyes. Her cheeks feel hot, bright red, and her eyes burn with a thousand unshed tears that she’d stoically been holding in until her mom had taken her in her arms and brushed a hand over her cheek. “I- I- fuck, Marcus- I’m so sorry. This is not how I wanted things to work out-”

“Hey, hey, hey-” She settles into his arms like she belongs there. His arms pull around her tight, keeping her close to his chest. Something about the measured, rhythmic set of his breathing helps to settle her running mind. “-you have nothing to apologise for, Sunshine.” 

She practically crumbles when he holds her. Her hands clutch at him tightly and she tries to stop her shoulders from shuddering. His hand runs up and down her back, fingers brushing delicate against the silk fabric of her dress, soothing the terrible cold that shoots through her at her father’s hostility and the aching weakness that tugs at her chest. He almost kisses the shell of her ear as he whispers his comforting words, but stops himself once he remembers they have an audience. 

Anyone else might misinterpret their actions as more than they are. As more than purely platonic. 

“You’re trembling,” Marcus whispers. He can feel her shoulders shaking against him. It comes and goes, as if she’s trying to hold it in. 

“I am?” She whispers but it’s muffled by his shirt. 

She can only tell that he nods when his chin brushes against the top of head a couple of times. 

“‘m sorry.”

Truth is, she’s freezing cold again. Has been since her father’s disapproval. She hasn’t felt a cold like it since her divorce, the night she and Scott had said their goodbyes for good, and she’d known that it was well and truly over. It had lingered upon her, like a taunting spectre. And it’s a chill that clings to her, holding on for dear life, with the ferocity of a blizzard, and just as unforgiving. His arms hold her close and inspire warmth within her, even for the few moments that he keeps her close. 

...

The night seemed to stretch on for longer than it surely was. Minutes turned into hours, darkness had consumed the streets and everyone had left Coraline’s apartment, save for Marcus and Daniel. 

Celine had texted Daniel to ask if everyone was okay once she and her husband had reached their hotel and delivered the reassuring news that Robert wasn’t really angry, just wasn’t sure where to place his emotions, in response to hearing his daughter was having a child with a man he’d only just met. He didn’t entirely blame him. He’s not sure he would be best pleased, either. Kimmy had left with the boys and Piper a little while later; the kids had somehow worn themselves out watching the TV, so they’d bundled them all down the stairs and into the car as best they could, as they grumbled and groaned out tired protests.

Daniel had stayed behind a little while to make sure that his sister was okay.

Marcus was an only child; he’d always wanted siblings growing up, but his parents never wanted more kids. He’d never felt lonely, when he was a kid - he had great friends, and his mom and dad were his heroes; he owed a lot to them for making him the man he was today - though he’d always wished he had someone to chase around the garden, to complain about the petty things his parents did that no one else would understand. To have someone to look out for, someone to look out for him. He wonders what it would feel like to have someone like that, someone always on his side. He’s always wanted a big family because he never wants his kids to miss out on something that they might want.

He thinks it gives her comfort to know that someone close to her actually supports her, rather than thinking it’s wrong that she’s even considering it. Even as she shuffles, trembling, into her bathroom, to try and wash away the chill, there’s no longer a ten tonne weight on her shoulders, bearing down angry on top of her. 

It won’t help, the hot water. Not in the long run, at least. A temporary solution to a persistent problem. 

She’s not sure she’ll ever be able to shake it.

“You think she’ll be okay?” Daniel questions as he leans back against the sofa, arms crossed tight over his chest, brows furrowed.

Marcus hums. There’s a wistful smile on his face. “I hope so.” He sighs and runs a hand over his jaw, shuffling awkwardly on his feet. “This is my fault.”

“It’s no one’s fault, Marcus. My dad just worries, but he’ll calm down sooner or later.” Daniel tells him. “Did she ever tell you about her first boyfriend?” Marcus vaguely remembers her mentioning him over takeout one night; Kevin or Kyle, some name like that. That they’d dated for barely two months and that he was an asshole, and she’d never really found him attractive. She’d never really given him a reason as to why she’d even dated him in the first place, though. Daniel continues at the sight of Marcus’ acknowledgement. “Our dad hated him. Wouldn’t even let him in the house, said he was trouble and would lead her astray. She was in her rebellious phase so, of course, stubborn as she is, she didn’t listen.”

“Huh, sounds like Cora.” It made a lot of sense. He’s surprised he never even put two and two together when she’d told him the first time.

“He was right though- guy was a total asshole.” He chuckles, short and indistinct. It still doesn’t seem like the time to be laughing, not with the weight of Coraline’s sorrow looming over them. “My dad got over it the next day. But Cora? Found her crying in her bedroom at 3am, worried he’d hate her for the rest of her life. But this- this seems bigger.” It’s like he’s struck down with the realisation. “Maybe she should sleep at ours tonight.” He wonders out loud.

“I’ll stay on the couch tonight, make sure she’s okay,” Marcus insists.

“Are you sure?” Daniel raises his eyebrows, surprised. And it almost surprises Marcus just how ready he is to sleep on the sofa, for Coraline’s sake - albeit, a very plush and snug sofa that he’d napped on before (and, ultimately, faced the butt of Coraline’s ‘old man’ jokes when he woke) - but then, when he really thinks about it, it’s not entirely a shock to anyone that he would be willing to do this. He’s done far more for her in the past. He’s not even sure just how far he’ll go just to make sure that Coraline is okay. Daniel glances back at the sofa he’s leant against and offers Marcus an out. “She can take the guest room at our place, it’s no problem.” 

Marcus shakes his head and smiles. He’s never been so sure of himself. “It’s fine, I’m here for her.”

Daniel tilts his head the same way Coraline does when she’s thinking. The corners of his mouth pick up. “I’m glad she has you.” He sighs and pushes himself up from the sofa. “Thank you for this, Marcus. I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this. We’re not usually so… argumentative.” He huffs out a laugh and holds his hand out for Marcus to shake.

He shakes his head. Families are hard, sometimes. He’s witnessed that himself, first hand. “It’s no problem,” he insists. Marcus reaches for the blanket Coraline keeps folded over the back of the couch, ready to tuck himself under when she’s okay, again. “She needs someone tonight.”

He smiles gratefully. “Well, I best get going. Kim won’t forgive me if she has to do bedtime alone.” He chuckles and reaches out to shake Marcus’ hand again. “Nice to see you again, Marcus. Sorry about all of this.”

He bids Daniel farewell and locks the door. He finishes the last of the washing up, tucking each plate and piece of cutlery away into their designated place, so familiar with Coraline’s kitchen that he doesn’t even need to ask anymore. 

He hears the shower shut off and, a little while later, the shuffling of slippered feet against the tiled floor. Coraline emerges from the bathroom with a towel wrapped tight around her frame, catching the drips of water that cascade down her back and shoulders, far too exhausted to care about him seeing her half-naked, wet-haired and fresh out of the shower. It makes her head spin to realise that he’s already seen more than that, anyway. The blush that creeps up at the thought almost burns her cheeks. She ducks into her bedroom and emerges a few seconds later in her stripey sleep shorts and a well-worn t-shirt with ‘Radiohead’ emblazoned across the chest. “You should get going,” she reminds him. Even her voice is exhausted and he wouldn’t be surprised if the second she tucked herself up in bed, she’d be asleep and dead to the world until morning.. “It’s getting late and I’m sure you have work early tomorrow.”

“I’m staying right here tonight.” He tells her. “If that’s okay?”

“You don’t have to,” she urges. “Not for me. I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t have to be alone when you’re upset. I’m half of this, too”

There’s a beat of silence. It’s a lot heavier when it isn’t filled with quiet music. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice breaks when she speaks and he can tell that she’s close to tears again.

“Hey, hey-” He takes the few steps closer over to Coraline and takes her face in his hands. He tilts her head back a little, ever so gentle, and smiles at her. “-stop apologising. Not your fault.”

“I- fuck-” She tips her cheek into one of his hands and sinks into his embrace. She closes her eyes and the breath she takes is deep and rattling. “Dinner was great,” she whispers and they’re both grinning at the sudden burst of compliment she utters. 

“My mom’s recipe.”

“Yeah? I’ll have to thank her someday.”

His smile is blissful. “You want to meet her?”

Her head tilts back as she laughs, like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. “I need to meet the woman who raised such a wonderful human being. She must be pretty great.” She can’t help the yawn that crawls out of her mouth; she tries to smother it with her hands.

“You need to sleep.”

“Oh, pfft, I’m fine.” She brushes off his concern.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “Don’t make me call your mom.”

“Is that a threat?”

“As an FBI agent, I’m required to say no because threatening civilians is frowned upon.”

Coraline scoffs and rolls her eyes, and finally surrenders to Marcus’ suggestion. “Fine.”

Marcus trails her when she wanders into her bedroom. She sets herself down on the edge of her comforter and her shoulders slump again, sinking into herself. He can see that she’s exhausted, tears tearing away at the last saps of her energy, and the shower she’d had does nothing to lessen the puffiness that has settled beneath her eyes. The flush that decorates her cheeks whenever she’s embarrassed paints her eyes, now. 

“I’m sorry again,” she whispers, quiet. 

“Goodnight, Sunshine.” He turns to leave, feet stuttering across the floor and he pauses the moment she calls out for him again. It’s quiet, but in the silence of her apartment, he can’t help but hear her welcoming voice. 

“Marcus-” Her voice is thick in her throat and she struggles to find her words. They seem to die in her throat. “-will you stay?” She manages to ask, finally.

He nods, smooths back her dishevelled hair from her face and leans down to kiss her forehead, a sweet and simple gesture that she appreciates beyond belief. “I am. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

“No. Marcus.” She reaches for him. His arms, his wrist, his fingers. She finds purchase at his fingers and entwines the digits together. She’s peering up at him through her lashes, looking at him with expectation. “I mean- will you stay, please? Here- I need you here-” Coraline’s voice is small and quiet, timid and unsure. It’s a request that seems to terrify her, but all she wants is him to be here and to hold her, and to make her feel like things might actually be okay, even if right now she’s struggling to see how anything positive could come out of her dad - the first person to ever make her believe she could do anything she set her heart on - likely hating her, right now.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispers as she presses her and Marcus’ clasped hands against her cheek. He feels the gentle curve of her nose brush against the inside of his wrist when she nuzzles herself closer into his touch. “Please.”

He moves to unlace their fingers and her hand drops into her lap. She’s about ready to cry, convinced that - after hearing her father’s reaction to their agreement - he’d been scared away, well and truly. She can feel the tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to spill over her lashes and down her face, and she’s sure she’d look utterly pathetic, with hot tears carving a scorching path down her cheeks. But his hand finds her cheek again, soft and tender and without the obstruction of her hand, this time. Brown eyes gaze down at her and warm her soul. His thumb brushes delicate over her cheekbone; she only realises she’s crying, then, when the rough pad of his thumb swipes wet across her skin. 

“I could never leave you.” His voice is low, smooth like honey. He leans down again, to press the most fleeting of kisses to her forehead, before he’s holding her close. Marcus lays her down beside him, chests pressed firm together. He can feel each shaky breath she exhales as her hands bunch into his shirt. She tugs him closer, somehow.

Coraline tilts her head up towards him. “Thank you,” she whispers, unbunching one fist from his shirt to reach up for this cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. They spend a moment gazing at each other; merely a heartbeat that seems to stretch on for a lifetime. But, in reality, it doesn’t last long before she ducks her head again, presses her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt - surely terribly uncomfortable to sleep in, though, at least he doesn’t have his tie on - and thanks God that he’s here, holding her so close and so gently. She’s not sure she could deal with this alone, without him here to hold her. She feels the lingering couple of kisses that he leaves against the top of her head.

Her breathing evens out and she settles comfortable against him, and her dreams have taken over before she can hear the ‘I love you’ that he can’t contain any longer. He’s never said that out loud, never even admitted to himself that maybe that’s how he feels. And he knows he’s in too deep, deeper than he ever thought he would be again, deeper than he ever thought he’d let himself get again, and he reconciles his feelings as he lets sleep and the gentle tangle of her limbs around his consume him.

[deathonyourtongue]

Touch Me, Tease Me

Summary: A six-month shoot is the perfect excuse to have some no-strings attached fun. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Loren Lott Word Count: 2K Warnings: SMUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!! A/N: This was a commission from the lovely @livinglifeformemyselfandi​ ! Enjoy!! Like what I do? Buy me a coffee (or a commission)!

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“You can’t go. It’s too dangerous! I won’t let you!”

“Give me a reason to stay, then.” 

He grabbed her, not hesitating to throw her over his shoulder as he made his way to the four-poster bed. Dropping her unceremoniously onto the mattress, he tore her shirt open first, buttons flying in every direction as he exposed her lacy red bra. Her skirt went next, the body-hugging material no match for his powerful hands. The thong beneath matched the bra, and before she knew it, the set was gone, leaving her fully nude to his hungry eyes. 

She gasped as his warm lips lit a path up to her mouth, taking her breath away. His kiss was deep, and she felt herself grow wetter as his tongue slid against hers. Back arching towards his body, she made it clear that his reason was more than sufficient, even as lightning crashed outside the window, lighting up the room in a pale blue flash. 

His strong hand pressed against her back, pushing her breasts up towards his mouth, where he attacked with just as much fervor as he had not moments before when he’d torn her clothes off. Her mouth fell open and short, gasped inhales escaped her as his tongue hardened each nipple expertly. She couldn’t help but let her hands card through his curls as she watched his kisses move back down her body, coming tantalizingly close to where she needed the most attention. 

Slipping her feet down his muscular back, she purposely slipped her toes under the towel he wore, exposing the remainder of his nude form and giving her a peek at what she knew was coming. 

“CUT!! Fantastic, you two! Let’s quickly reset for the close-up! Guys, just stay where you are. Can we get the sheet ready? Freddy, I need all the lightning and moonlight on this next one. Make her look beautiful and don’t wash him out! You got this!” 

Loren relaxed against the mattress as she and Henry were covered with a sheet, production bustling around them. Catching each other’s gazes, they couldn’t help but smirk. Given the movie’s rating, both knew neither of their bodies would actually be exposed during the close up shot. Without a word, she and Henry carefully removed the modesty garments that were intended to prevent exactly what they both planned on doing. 

The thrill was only part of it. In truth, Loren and Henry had been dancing around one another since pre-production started on the romantic thriller that saw her playing his wife on-screen. Like the adults they were, when it became clear things needed to progress--one way or another--they sat down laid their cards on the table. Neither was looking for a serious relationship, but with a shooting schedule that was slated to last at least six months and promised to be grueling, they both wanted and needed relief from the taxing hours and sex-charged script. So they’d agreed to be friends with benefits, and keep it on the low as much as possible. Today would be the first time they dipped their toes in the water of something a little more on the exhibitionist side. 

With the sheet hiding their nude forms, Loren couldn’t help but tease Henry just a little. Resting her head on one hand as she lay on her side, her other hand slipped down between Henry’s legs. Eyes locked on his, she let her nails drag up the underside of his length, grinning as she saw his eyes roll back at the touch. Henry managed to stay relaxed even as a shiver ran through him, the feel of Loren’s nails trapping the head of his cock gently, one he’d never experienced before, but one he knew he’d kill to feel again. 

“The best kind of torture is the sweet kind, no?” She purred as she continued the motion, knowing no one was paying attention to their conversation. Loren loved how easily she could get to Henry; it was a power she knew all women had, but few ever truly exercised, and while she was careful to keep it reigned in, it still sent a thrill through her to know that this was the kind of fun they would have over the next six months. 

Henry nodded at her rhetorical question, his own lips parted as his breathing grew increasingly labored with each teasing stroke. Hard as a rock, he was thankful the scene called for him to be on top, otherwise, he’d have a lot of explaining to do. 

“Alright, quiet on the set. Henry, I want you to really give it to her. Remember, you’re trying to keep her there so she doesn’t go off and take on her ex. You gotta keep her here, and keep her safe, at any cost! Alright. Camera rolling and...ACTION!” 

Though he scowled in character as he rolled them so he was on top, Henry’s eyes shone with mischief against the manufactured blue glow of the moon. Loren knew right then and there that she wouldn’t have to act for a second; every reaction would be real and raw, and probably far better than any fake pornstar act she could ever emulate. 

Pulling him down for a kiss, Loren gasped into Henry’s mouth as she felt him press inside, the move seamless and oh-so-delicious. Her hand slipped down his back, discreetly holding the sheet in place as he began a slow, deep, thrust. Forgetting she was on set for a moment, the director’s voice calling out was a surprise. 

“Okay, Henry I want you to start nice and slow, just like that, then really start giving it to her. Loren, you’ve never seen this side of your husband and it’s turning you on immensely.” 

Henry buried his smile in the crook of Loren’s neck as his cock slid in and out at a luxurious pace, sending wave after wave of pleasure through every last nerve in Loren’s body. Framing her face with his forearms, he slowly increased the pace, not needing to be told when to up the ante. 

Loren knew the boom mic overhead meant they were recording for sound, and that meant she didn’t need to be quiet. Letting the rest of the closed set disappear, she focused instead on the man above her and how good he was making her feel. Instinctively, she cupped Henry’s face, pulling him up for a kiss just as he began to ram into her, her gasping moan muffled as their tongues intertwined yet again. 

His kisses lit a path of fire down her body, Henry managing to keep the bruising pace even as his mouth found her breasts, his talented tongue making her jolt with each lick. Every thrust made the room spin a little more and Loren couldn’t help the noises that left her throat as his cock hit her g-spot like it was a target each time. 

There was no dialogue for the scene, which was all the better since Loren knew she’d end up calling Henry by his real name accidentally. Hands slipping over every inch of skin she could reach, Loren lost herself in the pleasure her co-star was providing, already looking forward to their lunch, wanting to see how many rounds they could fit in with the time allotted.  

Gazing at the small number of crew permitted on-set during the scene, she felt the excitement of what they were doing increase ten-fold, loving the idea of doing something so naughty in plain sight of her co-workers.

Her orgasm snuck up on her, Loren captivated by the slick feeling of Henry’s length pistoning in and out of her. It was a sensation she never grew tired of and one she was grateful she’d get to feel for the duration of filming. 

Loren kissed Henry deeply once more as her body tensed with the first rush of pleasure, clinging to him even as he fucked her through her orgasm. Trembling, it wasn’t long before she felt the same tension in his sculpted muscles, Henry stilling as followed her over the edge. Legs locked behind him, she couldn’t help the squeak of delight when she felt him begin to thrust again, every stroke carrying with it a powerful shot of cum, Loren’s eyes rolling back in her head as Henry filled her up with ease. 

“We’re spending lunch naked,” she whispered into his ear, making it clear what she wanted even as Henry shifted their positions, sitting on the bed and impaling her on his full length. With the sheet encircling their waists, no one was the wiser as Henry continued to cum, his hips jerking and jolting, wringing a second, even more intense, orgasm out of Loren. 

It was only when they began to come down, amidst kisses that their on-screen counterparts would have definitely shared, did Loren realize how quiet the set was. Continuing to act, she kissed up Henry’s neck before finding his mouth once more. It took a few moments for the director come back to his senses, looking around and blinking rapidly before remembering it was his turn to do his job. 

“CUT! Check the gate! That’s...that’s lunch folks. Get them their robes, please!” Voice stuttered and a little hoarse, it was clear their performance had affected their director, this time, it was Loren who had to hide her smile in the crook of Henry’s neck. Two PA’s who looked equally shell-shocked scurried in, handing her and Henry their robes before backing off, the small crew leaving the set to allow the two leads to make themselves presentable once more. 

Henry helped Loren slip her arms into her robe before sliding into his own, his smile breathless and still full of mischief. 

“Check your left pocket,” he whispered, licking his lips, the tone of his voice making Loren take a deep breath, still feeling him taking up every bit of room she had to offer. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open in surprise as her fingers slipped around a fairly hefty plug, one clearly made to keep her full and stretched. 

“Slip it in as I pull out. Don’t want you spilling a drop,” Henry whispered, nipping at the shell of her ear. Moaning softly, Loren nodded, situating the plug and pressing it in with quick gasping breaths as she felt Henry pull from inside her. Resting her forehead on his broad chest, she pushed the last of it in and groaned at the wet popping sound that accompanied her once more feeling utterly stuffed. 

Locking eyes with Henry once more, she couldn’t help but cup his face, the heat between them still boiling. With his hand in her’s, Loren moved it down, letting him feel where the plug sat flush against her swollen mound. The noise that came from deep in his chest was all worth it, and with an impish smirk of her own, Loren slowly slipped out of bed, tying her robe tightly so no one could see the naughtiness beneath. 

“Your trailer or mine? We’ve gotta run these lines, let’s go,” she asked, keeping up the charade for the sake of the PA who walked in just in time to see Henry get off the bed, his own robe hiding his still half-hard cock. 

“Mine. More room for...blocking,” he answered, smirking as he breezed past the young man who’d come in to tell them craft services was ready for lunch, Henry doing his best not to laugh at the kid’s wide-eyed stare. 

[bradfordchxn]

officer sergeant lucy chen

[possum-rat]

Home is where...well where is home?

Previous (Y/n) traces the rough edges of a rock they had picked up while waiting for Tommy and Dream to finish arguing or whatever they're doing. As they look up from their rock they see Tommy being held up by his collar. (Y/n) stares at them in confusion before pulling out their crossbow now with interecet carvings and aiming at the two across the shore from them. Dream tosses Tommy to the ground. (Y/n) shifts their aim toward Dream staring blankly at him. Dream holds up his hands and shakes his hands nervously. (Y/n) flicks their gaze toward Tommy then back to Dream walking toward Tommy putting the bow back into their inventory before switching to a small clay ring they had made for Tommy during their self-inflicted exile. the ring has two small wings attached to a red band. With gold-dusted over the feathers.   looking at it they frown slightly before standing up and turning toward Dream who's mask is staring down at (Y/n) picking at his nails with an arrow. He stops and makes a beckoning motion toward (Y/n). Glancing toward Tommy he nods encouragingly. (y/n) stands up nervously fiddling with the ring before dropping it and walking toward Dream. As he walks further into the forset (Y/n) feels the hairs on their spine stick up. As they arrive in a small clearing beside a lake Dream places his hand upon (Y/n's) shoulder. The cold unsettling feeling of the enchanted metal on (Y/n's) arm causes them to shrug his handoff. "Mhm. (Y/n). It's been a while since anyone's seen you. You just tend to disappear don't you." His voice cut's through the silence(as silent as possible with a drunk goat man and slightly crazy British man) (Y/n) stares wide-eyed at him before rasping "What?" Dream simply tilts his head before asking "You heard me didn't you?" His voice cold and calculating. (Y/n) opens and closes their mouth several times before giving up and nodding. "Hm. Interesting." dream murmurs to himself as he presses a hand to his porcine mask mounted on his face. "what's that suposed to mean?" (Y/n) asks quietly fidgeting with the rock looking for any sense of comfort or familiarity in the man infront of them. They remembered how when they were younger they had promised themself that they'd go to the famous land of the 'Dream Smp' to meet their idol. "nothing. nothing. (Y/n) I have a question." he states. (y/n) nods uncertainly and mumbles "Yeah?" dream looks toward the setting sun and asks "you do realize that non of your friends are actually your friends. They only keep you around because they pity you. They'd leave you given the chance. they'd leave in a heartbeat. Just like Lillith did." (Y/n) tenses up flicking their gaze toward the muddy ground along the bank of a marsh they'd walked into. Stepping back uncomfortably (Y/n) mumbles "No. they- they are. You're lying." Dream turns toward (Y/n) asking "Am I? Or are you scared that I'm right?" (Y/n's) silence is answer enough for Dream. "Interesting, well it's time we leave." As he brushes past (Y/n) he stops and murmurs. "Look, I'm just trying to help you. You can trust me you know." (Y/n) gulps and nods and says quietly "I'm going to stay with Tommy. For a little longer." Dream makes a sound of acknowledgment before turning away. Upon reaching the mouth of the clearing (Y/n) turns in a circle feeling their heart beginning to slam against their chest faster and faster as they don't hear their footsteps. Part of them knew that it'd probably happen. The other part wonders how the hell they could hear Dream. Seeing Tommy sitting atop a log beside Ghostbur (Y/n) jogs toward them. plastering on a smile they run along the shore grabbing rocks of various sizes before placing them in a circle. Then grabbing some wood they place the wood into a tent shape. Pulling out a small vial of green swirling liquid before turning to ghost burn and saying "Stay back this could go wrong." Ghostbur floats off his seat and toward (Y/n) holding his guitar and singing. Letting some of the fire poor out of the vile (Y/n) winces as a few drops hit their skin. Turning to Tommy they smile slightly and notice the ring on his finger. Smiling more genuinely (y/n) leans against the log beside the other two baskings in the fire's warmth. ------ It's been about a week since Dream's little chat with (Y/n). (Y/n's) barely able to hear Tommy. Sure it's an improvement but it's still strange. As (Y/n) watches Tommy stand in the portal phasing through they glance toward Ghostbur. He smiles and nods toward the ever-shifting slightly translucent purple box. Turning back toward Ghostbur (Y/n) asks quietly "Are you sure? Is it okay if I go with him?" He nods confirmation and replies in his happy-go-Lucky echoey tone "Yeah! I'll go with!" As The two of them phase through getting the message floating infront of their eyes, (Y/n) hears Wilbur grumble something about hating acting clueless. furrowing their eyebrows (Y/n) asks "What? what's that suposed to mean? Were you resurrected? somehow? did it fail so now your just ghostbur?" Wilbur falls silent before (Y/n) steps from the portal. The familiarity of the nether earns a soft smile from (Y/n). That is until (Y/n) realizes that their not in the portal area that they should be. Instead, they're beside a nether fortress. Frowning slightly they knock on the side of the large door. Standing infront of the door they sway side to side nervously. The very almost silent footfalls cause (Y/n) to look up. Loren stands in the doorway hands outstretched for a hug. (Y/n) freezes guilt washing over them; they promised that they'd visit. Loren wraps their arms around (y/n) resting their head upon (Y/n's) head rubbing soothing circles on their back. (Y/n) sinks into the hug. Maybe it's because for the first time in about a year or two they've felt truly safe. Maybe it's the prospect of being treated their age and not like a weapon or something of disposal. Melting further into the touch (y/n) let Loren lead them around as they continue to hold onto them. Upon entering the small room (Y/n) recognized as the room they had woken up in when the ghost had shot a fireball. "(Y/n)! Oh my! You've grown! You've become so pretty! Such a handsome young kid." Clementine coos as she seems to float toward them. (Y/n) winces at they realize they don't remember the man's name. It doesn't matter though as he's not there. "Ah here hun, let's get you some supplies. Some things you'll need for coming events. Oh and dear? Be wary of Bad and his group." (Y/n) nods completely bewildered at what that means. (Y/n) ends up leaving with 2 potions of healing, a few stacks of potion materials, and a new coat, along with new clothes. An olive-gray aviator jacket with a Non-Binary patch on the sleeve along with one for L'manberg. Along with black cargo pants and an off-white bucket hat. As (y/n) runs out of the fortress waving happily they turn toward the direction of the portal. The familiar feeling of excitement rushes through (Y/n) as the loading message floats above them. Flapping their hands while squeaking in anticipation (Y/n) hops out of the portal landing in the land they had once called home. (A/n: I stim like that when I'm happy) Staring out at the scenery (y/n) bounces on their heels before jogging down the dark black stairs and along the prime path. As they stare in awe at the place nearly completely distorted by memories (Y/n) hears a familiar very faint voice. "(Y/n)?" Turning toward it  (Y/n) is greeted by the sight of Tubbo standing beside a tallboy. (Y/n) smiles but frowns abruptly as they see scars on the tall boy's cheeks. "Here, let me help." They murmur voice horse from lack of use. the golden crown wearer Glances toward Tubbo. Tubbo however is fiddling nervously with his suit buttons. He then says something (Y/n) can't catch. Glancing up at the heterochromatic-eyed boy they frown in confusion. "Uh? Who are you? I don't mean to be rude or anything but I've been with Tommy for the past few months." (Y/n) says quietly as they rub the wool collar of the coat. The boy glances toward Tubbo before saying Tubbo says "(Y/n). You've been gone nearly 4 years." (Y/n) frowns at Tubbo before muttering "Oh am I losing my sense of time? I mean I'm still partially deaf, what's next? Losing Tommy? Or you? Or even the tall kid? I mean it's a possibility. Who knows." Tubbo opens his mouth then closes it before asking "Is that why you looked so lost when Phil brought you out of the room?" (Y/n) falls silent before replying "Yeah. Not a huge fan of loud sounds. They freak me out. Ironic though cuz I hang out with Tommy a lot." Schlatt takes the opportunity to groan and throw popcorn while groaning "JESUS THIS IS SO CORNY, GET A LIFE." Frowning (Y/n) grumbles "Yeah like your any better dead Bitch. You died, so you can't tell me how to live. Asshat." "Uh. Tubbo? Is this normal?" The boy asks. Suddenly (Y/n's) eyes roll back into their head as Glatt takes over. "Tubbo!" He says in his loud demanding tone. "Ah, it's been a while. How've you been kid?" Tubbo freezes clutching onto ranboo's sleeve before he growls shakily “You can’t just act like nothing's wrong when it isn’t!” Wilbur seems to think that now's a good moment to say something. "Tubbo, I'm proud of you. You're doing great. Sorry about blowing up your nation." (Y/n) crumples lying in the grass face in the sun before hissing and rolling onto their back and sitting up. Coughing violently they pull out a potion of re-gen before taking a swig and squeezing their eyes shut to try to get rid of the nothingness. "Sorry about that Tubbo. And you're Ranboo right?" He nods uncertainly and (Y/n) stands up before noticing a small burn mark on his hand. Gently taking his hand (Y/n) pulls out a bandage (a Peppa pig one) and gently dabs some re-fen on it along with some herbs that are of use. Gently placing the bandage on it they turn toward Tubbo and examine him for any newer injuries. Small crescent-shaped cuts are on his palms. "Can I?" They ask quietly. Tubbo nods gently. Taking his hand (Y/n) rubs the healing salve on the cuts apologizing repeatedly with a series of taps on his wrist. Remorse code.

[bradfordchxn]

i just finished AA and was literally thinking the same thing… i was thinking more like he’d been turned against werewolves and had spent the last few years hunting them down - mitch rapp style, relentless, feral, and calculated… sometimes sloppy, always a victory - then he gets tasked with taking down scott and the rest of his pack, and thats where our story begins.

i’m going to add that a werewolf killed his dad and that was a trigger event the cia used to convert stiles to a hunter.

scotts task is then to deprogram his best friend or lose him forever.

I need a stiles stillinski is actually Mitch rapp fic pls im begging ,,, like bro comes back to beacon hills for some sorta mission after completely disappearing for years and he’s just like a total heartless badass like what please guys pleaseeee so much angst no comfort only crazy shit