#the bike was a pain too draw

[noramsblog]

Ride home

[way2gosuperrstarr]

watch my body disintegrate into a pile of ash like a cartoon character who just got struck by a lightning bolt (JOINT PAIN JOINT PAIN JOINT PAIN JOINT PAIN) (just got off work)

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14

Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them. 

He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them. 

Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this. 

Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves. 

They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.

They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air. 

But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence. 

Jason had been terrified. 

And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working. 

It had nearly cost him his life. 

He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together. 

Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug. 

Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.

Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.” Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything. 

“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.

Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.

“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him. 

Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right. 

Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back. 

He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly. 

“You have to leave Ghost to me.”

“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess. 

“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.” 

He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce. 

“Dad, please…” He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days. 

Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight. 

He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings. 

Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks. 

In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.

-

I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.

I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts. Update: Next

[dollfacefantasy]

Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl. 

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

[st4rfckerz]

October 23rd - Orgasm Denial

Faith (Charlie Mayhew x nun!reader)

word count: 1.2k

warnings: mdni 18+, blasphemy, religious themes, fingering, oral sex (f receiving)

The afternoon sun casts a warm glow through the windows of the church, filtering in streams of golden light that dance across the wooden floor of Father Charlie's office. The scent of incense lingers in the air, a constant reminder of the sacred space they inhabit. Charlie, fresh from his workout, moves about the room with practiced ease.

Earlier, you had stumbled upon Charlie online workout session, his muscular form glistening with sweat while he peddled away on his exercise bike.

Now you sit in the little wooden chair, your fingertips tracing the worn edges of the armrests. The chair creaks softly as you shift your weight, the sound echoing in the quiet office. He listens intently as you speak, your voice soft yet filled with a quiet determination. You speak of your journey, of the questions that have haunted her since childhood, the doubt that has gnawed at the edges of your faith.

“I can feel it trying to come back to me Father. I just don’t know what to do.”

It's a familiar story, one that Charlie has heard countless times before. The doubts, the questions, the search for meaning in a world that often seems devoid of it. He knows it well, for he too has walked that path.

“It's part of the journey,” he says, his voice low and measured. “A reminder of the sacrifices we make for our faith.”

You nod, understanding the depth of his words. It's clear that Charlie's dedication to his beliefs is unwavering, and the physical manifestations of his commitment are a testament to that devotion. As he rummages through the closet, Charlie's muscular back is exposed, revealing a tapestry of scars and marks that tell a story of pain and penance. His broad shoulders and well-defined muscles tense and relax as he searches for something within the depths of the closet.

“You know Sister,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy, “Sometimes I wonder if all this suffering is truly worth it. But then I remember the teachings of our Lord, and I know that I must persevere.” He emerges from the closet with a crisp white shirt and a black clerical robe, both items in stark contrast to the sweat-soaked workout clothes he had been wearing moments before.

Charlie removes his shirt, revealing his muscular torso in its entirety. His broad chest and well-defined pectorals rise and fall with each breath, while his bulging biceps flex as he reaches into the closet. You can't help but take in the sight before you. Charlie's physical form is a testament to his dedication, but it also serves as a reminder of the pain he has endured. You notice the prominent veins running along his forearms and hands, a sign of the physical labor he has subjected himself to. Despite the weight of his sins, he carries himself with a quiet dignity that commands attention.

“I think I understand Father.” you nod, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense stare. There's something about Charlie that draws you in, a magnetism that you can't quite pinpoint.

“Good.” Charlie walks over to you, the wooden floorboards creaking under his heavy footsteps, you feel a sense of awe and respect for the man before me. “You always listen so well.” he says, his voice sincere. Charlie's fingers brush against your chin, his touch gentle and fleeting.

You smile at Charlie's compliment, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I try.” you reply softly.

“No you do,” Charlie slowly bends his knees to meet your eye level. He squints his eyes, his gaze boring into yours. “I see you when I preach, listening, absorbing every word.” Charlie's fingers deftly trace the outline of the cross necklace hanging around your neck. “You don't even try to hide it.” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

Charlie's hands move with a slow, determined purpose as he begins to undo the small button of your skirt. Your hips lift instinctively, allowing him to slide the fabric down your legs.

“Your eyes follow me, like a moth drawn to a flame,” he says, his voice low and husky. “You're drawn to the light, to the promise of salvation.”

He pauses, his hands resting on your hips as he leans in closer. “But even the most devout can be consumed by their own desires.”

Charlie's lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he lowers himself onto his knees. You can feel the heat of his breath on your skin as he trails sticky kisses along your collarbone, his lips leaving a path of fire in their wake. His hands slide around to cup your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls your clothed cunt closer to his face.

“Lust can be dangerous,” Charlie spreads your legs wider as he speaks. “It can consume you, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake.” He leans in, his breath hot against your skin as his finger glides along the wet patch of your white cotton panties, the damp fabric clinging to the skin. “Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is still unsure.” He presses his finger more firmly against the material, applying pressure to your sensitive flesh. You gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily, seeking more of his touch.

Charlie's finger presses slowly into your leaking hole through the thin fabric of your panties, eliciting a whine from deep within your throat. “You're so tight,” he breathes, his eyes locked on the erotic sight in front of him. “So eager for more.”

He pushes deeper, his finger sliding in and out of your opening, the cotton material providing a delicious friction that only heightens your arousal. You can feel your body responding to his touch, your inner walls clenching around his digit as if trying to draw him in further.

Charlie's fingers deftly hook into the waistband of your panties, tugging them off and letting them fall to the floor. The cool air hits the exposed skin, causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh.

Without warning, his tongue darts out, licking along your slit. You gasp, your back arching off the chair as he laps at your folds. Your hand buries itself in Charlie's hair and he responds by bringing one of your legs up to rest on his shoulder. His fingers curl upward, seeking that special spot inside of you that sends sparks coursing through your body.

“Close, so close.” you mewl, your body trembling on the edge of release, But just as quickly as the pleasure builds, Charlie slows his movements.

“I know,” his fingers gradually withdrew from your body. He stands up abruptly, leaving you feeling empty. You feel a moment of confusion and disappointment wash over you. Charlie quickly grabs his priestly robe, draping it over his arm. His expression is unreadable, but there's a tension in his jaw that betrays his inner turmoil.

“Proverbs 25:28,” he quotes, his voice carrying a note of warning. “‘Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control.’” Charlie walks down the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet corridor. As he reaches the door, he pauses, looking back at you with an unreadable expression.

“I'll see you next Sunday.”

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 5 (final)

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, angry sex, p in v, anal, sex on Negan's bike, slight daddy kink, situationship

Part 4 here // Part 1 here

“Knew I’d find you here, doll.” Negan got off his bike, sighing before he sat next to me on the steps of the cabin. “Wanna tell me why the hell you just up and left?” His leg pressed against mine as I stared ahead at the ground, unable to look at him. 

“Just needed time to think.”

“Look at me.” His voice was deep, demanding, and I could hear the pain dripping from it. I refused to look at him.. refused to blink. All I could do was stare at a walker pinned to a tree in the distance like it might save me from this moment. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Negan nod disappointedly before looking away and my heart sank.  “We’ve both had enough time to think, y/n.” His voice cracked when he said my name like tears were forming in his throat. “On the drive over here, I had every intention of fighting for you. For us. But then I thought, I don't want to be with someone who isn’t certain they wanna be with me too.”

I nodded acceptingly. “That’s fair.” I refused to cry, not wanting him to see how this was affecting me. I’d be brave now, and feel sorry for myself later like always. “So why are you even here, then?” I asked and the question made Negan scoff. “Because I at least have enough respect for you to tell you goodbye.”

“I guess you don’t remember our first night together.” I scoffed back at him. 

“How can I ever fuckin’ forget? … and that? Is the problem. Buuut…” His voice changed suddenly, like he switched into the asshole character I saw at Alexandria the first time. “...If I can survive losing Lucille, I’ll damn sure be okay losing you, darlin’.” 

His words felt like a punch to my gut, leaving me numb and speechless. Negan stood after a few moments, whistling as he walked back to his bike but I was behind him before he could reach it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” I whisper-yelled, not wanting to draw the attention of the dead. 

Negan quickly turned to face me, smirking while he towered over me. “It means.. I’ll go back to my wives at the sanctuary. And you? can sit here for the rest of your lonely little life.. wishing you still had me.” 

My only response was my hand colliding with his cheek hard enough to sting my skin and draw blood from his lip. Negan grinned wider, showing his white teeth as he wiped a drop of blood away with his thumb. There was a darkness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before and it made me wonder how I was stupid enough to ever believe there was good in him. 

“Fuck you.” My jaw clenched as I spoke and mindfully held back my fists at my sides, desperately wanting to press one into his arrogant skull. 

“Yeah?” He asked, tilting his head. “Okay.” He breathed before pulling me forward by my wrist and smashing his lips into mine. I tasted the lingering blood on his mouth and sucked harder at his lip like it was some miracle drug that would heal me from his hurtful words. 

He bit me back and I shoved him away, breathing heavily. A low grumble came from his throat before he pulled me back to him and wrapped his fingers around throat. “You want me to stop? Tell me.” His grip tightened around my neck and my lips remained closed. His head fell back as he let out a loud chuckle and returned his heavy gaze to mine. My eyes watered from the pressure building in my neck and his eyes softened along with his grip.

Negan looked away before letting go of my neck completely. For a moment I thought he felt bad about it, until he grabbed my wrist and maneuvered me to bend over his bike. I gasped when my stomach pressed into the seat and knocked the wind out of my lungs. Before I had a chance to stand, Negan yanked my shorts down along with my underwear and lined his already hard and ready cock up to my entrance. 

"You ready to stop with the dramatics, darlin'? We both know we can't stay away from each other." He slid into me with one deep push and kept himself there for a moment. "Feel how perfect that is? We were made for each other, baby." He began thrusting and my moans grew louder as heat flooded my core. 

His hand found my ponytail and he jerked it harshly, making me yelp and my back arched while his dick reached a deeper level inside me.

"Negan, fuuuuck, feels so good."

"I know baby, I know." He breathed heavily, keeping his pace fast and steady. Letting go of my ponytail, his hand dropped to my ass while the other remained squeezing my hip. I exhaled a pained breath when I felt his thumb force its way into my other hole.

"So pretty and tight." He said, looking down to watch his thumb and cock slide in and out of me simultaneously. Then suddenly he removed both and I whined at the empty feeling.

He circled the head of his dick around my asshole and my eyes went wide with the sudden painful stretch of his tip entering.

"Fuck." Negan grunted before pushing the rest of length inside me until his balls were pressed against my pussy lips. We both moaned in unison as his pace sped up. "Shit, baby, look at you. Taking daddy's cock like a fucking pro. So fucking proud of my girl." He yanked my ponytail again, hitting a spot that made me see stars.

"Negan!" I practically screamed.

His other hand reached in front of me, covering my mouth. His fingers gripped painfully around my face, bringing tears to my eyes while he ripped my insides apart.

"Goddamn it, doll. Gonna fill that little ass with my cum and watch it drip outta you. You want that? Huh?" He pulled you back further towards him, biting your neck after whispering the filthy words in your ear.

The heat continued to build in your core and you felt yourself getting close. "Yes, please Negan. I need it, please!" I begged desperately.

Negan chuckled darkly and pulled back, leaving you empty again. He finished himself off with his hand, grunting as he spilled onto the ground.

I turned around, pulling my shorts back up quickly. "What the hell?" I asked, confused at his sudden change of plans.

"Ahhh." He said relieved, buttoning himself back up and adjusting his clothing. "Something wrong, darlin'?"

I scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. "No, not at all."

"Good. Because I'm done pleasing you, sweetheart." Negan smirked at you, throwing a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

"Just like that, huh? You're just.. giving up that easy? Did I mean anything to you?"

"Of course. Always will. And when you work out your own shit and realize you fucked up, I'll be here. I love you, y/n. Nothing will change that."

I watched him disappear in the distance as he drove off, taking my heart with him.

Three weeks later:

I've settled back into Alexandria, slowly making amends with the group. The Saviors had a falling out the day we attacked the Sanctuary and we haven't seen any of them since. Except Negan.

After our escapade at the cabin, Negan had apparently drove to Alexandria and surrendered. He's been a prisoner here since the day he showed up and my heart hurts for him. I haven't been to see him, and by doing so, I'm only hurting myself. I guess its my punishment to myself for letting him go. But its been three weeks now and I can't wait any longer.

Everyone knows about our past situationship after I felt it necessary to come clean. I figured we would never be able to move on unless I told the truth. At first it didn't go well, but time mends everything and I think they're starting to forgive me.

It was getting dark when I knocked on Rick's door, explained the cause of my desperation, and he reluctantly gave me the keys to Negan's cell. Arriving at the door of the basement, I took a deep breath, and walked down the stairs into darkness. The only light in the cold room was the moonlight shining through one small window by his cell and it reminded me of our moment together in the trailer - the day I took a bullet for him. I knew then I was in love him with him and nothing has changed since.

"Negan.." I whispered, walking closer.

He lied on his back on his cot, looking up at the ceiling with a hand behind his head.

Silence.

"Please talk to me."

Nothing. He wouldn't even look at me.

"Ok, I'll talk then." I leaned against his bars. "I'm sorry it's taken me awhile to come see you. I needed some time to work out my shit - as you put it." I paused, giving him a moment to react but he didn't. "Well.. it's worked out. If you care?" I said teasingly.

His head fell to the side as he looked at me, trying not to smile. I took that as a welcome sign and quickly opened his cell door with the key. He barely had time to stand up before I ran to his arms and kissed him like my life depended on it.

He lifted me before laying me down on the cot and climbing over me. His mouth stayed connected to mine and without words, we made a million promises to each other in that moment.

We'd never leave again.

A/n: This final part was slightly difficult for me to finish. I have so many other one-shots in process that I'm ready to focus on, so I'm sorry if this felt rushed. But this entire story was so fun to write. Thanks so much to whoever requested it! <3

Tag list: tag list: @loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor @dilfsandmartinis @sarahhxx03 @minaxcarter @kukka-roo @rinsdesires @6kaja9 @sasiiik9174 @fanficwriter5 @theoraekenslover

[kimjun]

Package | Bat family x reader

You never stopped to think about being a mother, you are young and it was too early to think. Well, until you meet Bruce Wayne. You met him by accident, really an accident, you ran him over with your bike and then you went out to get to know each other better.

After many meetings, the marriage proposal finally arrived. As said above, you didn't think about being a mother. But marrying Bruce Wayne came with a package.

The first package was Dick.

He was adorable, he was always around you, he bragged to everyone that he had an incredibly beautiful mother. Mom, it was a surprise when you heard that word addressed to you.

It was a Friday, you went to pick Dick up from school because Alfred was on vacation, so you went to Dick's school. You were at the gate waiting, while sending some messages to friends and Bruce, little Dick approaches along with three boys.

—I told you she was beautiful. - Dick points at you, then crosses his arms.

—Wow.- one of the boys says.

—Stop drooling over my mother. –Dick speaks naturally as he gets into the car.

On the other hand, you become paralyzed trying to absorb the new information. When you finally get in the car, Dick hands you a drawing, it's him, you and Bruce.

—You can throw it away if you want. - Dick says, putting on his belt.

You've had this drawing saved for over fifteen years. A memory of the first time you became a mother.

—It's very beautiful, my love, thank you very much.

—Is it okay if I call you mom?

—You are my son, obviously you should call me mother.

Dick is a mama's boy, even at twenty-two he still runs into her arms.

The second package was Jason.

You were already in your pajamas, the calm rain turned into a storm and Bruce was already on his way back. You just didn't expect Bruce Wayne to show up with a boy cowering from the cold.

—Honey.- Bruce looked completely embarrassed. —This is Jason.

The boy looked at you, his beautiful eyes made you sigh with love for your newest baby.

-I am __.

It was a complicated relationship at first, in fact Jason only let you get close to him. He spent time with you at the library, you created a book club that was just the two of you.

It was a trusting relationship, when Jason had nightmares you would always be with him.

—It's okay, love, I'm here.

Jason started calling you mom because Dick did that.

—Are you my mother too? - Jason asked with his mouth covered in chocolate.

—Of course, right, - replies Dick. — If you're my brother, idiot.

He starts calling you mom. And you love the fact that you have two boys. Jason is also a mama's boy. When you learned of Jason's death the world stopped, you fell into a deep depression that you had to hide because Bruce Wayne brought a surprise.

The third package was Tim.

It was a little difficult, it wasn't Tim's fault, you love him, but he came so quickly that you haven't accepted Jason's death yet. The pain is horrible. But Tim needed love and you tried.

Tim heard you lost a son and it was still hard. He saw you crying several times, even though you hid to not show how fragile you are. Then one day, Tim came into the room where you were crying. He climbed onto the bed and hugged you.

—I'm sorry, I didn't want you to feel this pain, mom. - Tim was hugging you.

-Oh my love.

You were healing, Tim was there to help you, he knew you were broken.

-Mother?

-what?

—Nothing, it's cool to call you that.

—How about making cookies? - you smile.

—And coffee?

—You are prohibited from drinking coffee.

Tim is a mama's baby, he's always by your side when you need him, you take care of him with so much love that he just wants to reciprocate.

It is Tim who breaks the news that Jason is alive.

Bruce Wayne doesn't know when to stop and you don't really care.

The fourth package was Damian.

—Are you saying you have a child with another woman?

You need time to understand the situation, when Bruce explains it you still get suspicious. A new kid in the mansion. Harder than Jason as a teenager.

—Damian, it's going to rain, take an umbrella. - you say.

Damian looks at you.

—You're not my mother, you don't command me. - he leaves in a huff, taking the umbrella.

A new member of the book club, Jason was reluctant before accepting that Damian could join the club.

You noticed Damian was slowly approaching. If you are in the kitchen, he will come up to you and ask what you are doing. If you leave, he asks if he can come along. At the market he pushes the cart for you.

-Can I have this? - Damian points to some chocolates. He sighs remembering what Thalia told him.

You pass Damian picking up several bars.

—Yes, you can, my love.

Damian never complained about you calling him baby, living by your side is peaceful because you are a different person than his mother.

Damian wrote you a letter, actually a note.

YOU WANT TO BE MINE MOTHER?

Yes ( ) or no ( )

You thought it was so cute, you squeezed Damian saying yes, you accepted being his mother.

Damian is mommy's little baby to this day, he will always come to you looking for mommy's hugs and kisses.

Bruce Wayne is a big surprise, you love him, you love his children but every time you leave you fear that he will return with another child.

—I love you, but please try to have control, we have too many children. - you laugh.

—I think it's over, don't worry.

-He is sure?

—I think so, I'm going to stop adopting for a bit.

—You need therapy. - you laugh kissing your husband.

—We should have a baby of our own. - Bruce grumbles. You laugh, getting up from the couch.

—We already have too many children. - you scream running to the kitchen.

[monstersandmaw]

Monster: Werewolf

Prompt: Childhood friends to lovers?

I can't drabble, apparently. Also there's some angst with a hopeful ending. :3

__

Gods, it hurts to look at him now. It shouldn't, but it does.

You've seen him skin his knees falling off the new bike his parents bought him. He'd been showing off and trying to do a wheelie. You've seen him crying after he put his palm down on a wasp while the two of you were splashing in the blow-up swimming pool when you were six. You've seen him with ice cream all round his face on a sleepover where you watched a movie that was too scary for the both of you and you both cried and curled up under the blankets together to sleep that night.

And then you went to high school together and he broke the hearts of everyone who had one to lose in the first place. Tall, athletic, handsome, he grew into his body in a way you didn't think you ever would.

He went to college and you moved across the country, and you used to call each other and talk late into the night.

Then he went silent.

At first you'd been worried enough to call his parents, but they just told you he was going through something and it would be best if you didn't call again.

Gods, that had hurt. You'd thought that was the worst pain, but now, seeing him in some bar in the city, with his sleeves cuffed up to his elbows and a whisky glinting in a cut glass tumbler between his lax fingers... He looks incredible and you feel like shit.

You whisper his name, and there's no way he should have heard it over the live band in the corner, but he jolts like he's been electrocuted and turns around with a wild look in his eyes, and the glass slips from his fingers onto the bar with a clunk.

You see his mouth form the shape of your name and he's half risen from the stool before he staggers a little. He's not drunk; he's shocked. He says your name again and the music steals it away again.

You cross to him and he looks down at you, his breathing shallow and fast. The light catches his eyes and flares them gold like the toss of a coin.

He says your name again and reaches for your shoulders as if to check you're real; that you're really standing there.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Fuck, I've missed you so much."

"What happened?" you breathe back, looking up at him.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he exhales as he sits down heavily on that stool again and takes a deep draw from the whisky.

"I always believed you," you said. "Until you told me we'd talk soon. That was four years ago."

He screws his eyes shut. "I'm sorry."

"Try me," you say again and there's fire in your voice now. He hears it, and when he looks back at you, his eyes really are glowing gold.

"Alright..." he says. "Here goes nothing."

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 40

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 37, part 38, part 39

Steve’s not at work today. Dustin went to Family Video to see if there was anything new, the rest of his friends at the arcade down the block. But Steve isn’t here. Robin is, but he isn’t.

“Where’s Steve,” he asks. Urgency in his voice.

“Called out today, something came up.” There’s only confusion in Robin’s voice. Like Steve not being here is something normal. “Why?”

“Is he ok?”

Steve doesn’t call out for no reason. Dustin’s seen him be here slipping pain killers under his sleeve while he has a migraine. Turn the lights off in between customers and close the blinds. But he was still here.

It’s only been three weeks since “the big one.” Another one couldn’t have happened this soon. Nancy would have told him if he had one. She promised him that she would. Unless she doesn’t know about it either.

How much does Steve hide things when it goes wrong? How many layers does Dustin have to search just to find answers? How long will Steve have to be in pain for him to realize that it hurts other people too?

“Yeah, he’s fine. Like I said, something just came up.”

Dustin doesn’t believe him. Fine means nothing. Fine could mean blood draining out of his face and falling on the floor. Fine could mean trapped in bed because moving seems impossible. Could be stuck in a loop of panic that won’t stop, no matter how hard he tries.

Fine with Steve almost never means fine. Dustin knows that.

He turns on his heel and heads out of the store. He walks down the street to the arcade, to his bike that’s chained up outside.

The wind almost knocks his hat off, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care when his walkie crackles in his backpack. A faint voice asking where he went. It doesn’t matter right now.

All that matters is the spiral in his mind. The belief that if he can’t see it, then he can’t know it didn’t happen. Faces of death molding together into one. All warning him of what could happen. Of what did happen. Of what should have happened if the luck ran out.

A tear catches on his lip. The saltiness the only reason he knows that he’s crying. Vision blurring as Steve’s house comes into view. As he drops his bike onto the grass and struggles to find his key. Hand shaking so much, he has to steady it with his other just to get it in the lock.

“Steve,” he yells when the door opens. Running upstairs, not bothering with taking off his shoes. “Steve.”

His bedroom is empty. A made bed with nothing else. He isn’t here. He isn’t stuck there.

“Steve,” he calls out again. Hearing his voice bounce off the walls, echoing. Drawing out his cries for a seconds longer than it should. Emptiness surrounding him.

He runs back down the stairs, calling out again. Nothing again.

A list forms in his mind, and he checks it off. Steve’s car was in the driveway. His shoes are by the door. His keys are on the table. His bed it made. There are dishes in the drying rack.

He has to be fine. He has to be ok. He has to be.

“Dustin?”

There Steve was. The final check off his list. Standing straight, looking like he slept. Put together. Alive. He was alive.

Dustin crumbles. The panicked sob breaking out of his chest. Steve rushes forward. Holds Dustin upright as his knees start to bend. Push the hair out of his face and ask him if everything was alright. If he was hurt. What happened.

“You.” Dustin can’t voice himself properly right now. He means to say, you’re ok. Or maybe something else. Maybe place the blame on him for making Dustin like this. For making him come all this way.

He gets brought to the living room and forced to sit. Until the breath evens out, actually fills his lungs. Until the tears dry on his cheek. Until he’s calm again.

A cold glass gets pressed into his hands. He drinks the water. Returns to normal.

Steve is sitting next to him. Alive. Perfectly fine. Nothing is wrong.

“Your radio was going off like crazy,” Steve fills the silence. “I told them that you were alright, where you were. You scared the shit out of them.”

Bold words coming from him, Dustin would say. If he could. If his mouth would cooperate with him.

“Do you want to tell me why you biked here?”

Dustin takes a deep breath. Feels the stretch in his chest. The relief as he releases it slowly.

“Why weren’t you at work?”

“That’s what this is about?” Steve doesn’t mean for it to come out the way that it does. The apology of his face says that. “I called out. Eddie has his physical therapy appointment today and Wayne has to go to work right after. He can’t move that much after therapy, so I took off to help him.”

“Oh.”

It was so normal. It was so normal, and he blew it out of proportion. He just panicked. Saw something that wasn’t right and immediately went to the worst. Right back into that hospital room. To all those times before.

Steve turns to him. Face full of concern. Full of worry. “Dustin, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“No one tells me anything,” he exclaims. “I have to find out everything from someone else, or days, or weeks later. I never get told anything by the person themselves. I’m always the last to know.”

“Dustin-.”

“No. I’m tired of the excuses. I’m tired of you saying that it’s not my thing to worry about. Because I do. No matter how hard you think you shield me from it, I worry about it. Every day I wake up and wonder if your head is killing you. If when I see you later, you’re going be how you were before, or a ghost of yourself. If I’m going to look at you push yourself for my betterment. When I know that you’re in pain.”

Steve looks at him like he doesn’t know what to say. Even if he did, Dustin wouldn’t give him the chance to. He’s not done.

There’s so much he needed to say.

“You’re like a brother to me, Steve. You’re family. I don’t know why you think you can just get away with hiding this from me, but you can’t. Because I love you and all I’m asking is to know what is going on with you. Is that such a big thing to ask?”

Before Dustin can take a breath, Steve hugs him. Holds him close, sniffling. “I’m sorry.” He takes a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Sucks, right?”

Steve snorts. Pulling back. “I’ll be back in a second.”

He leaves the living room, going up stairs and returning with a small book. A planner. He hands it to Dustin, motions for him to flip through it. Its pages are filled with notes. Some days are blank, some are overflowing. There’s a mix of different hand writings.

“Every time I get a migraine, I write it down. The severity, if I had to take any pills. If I called out from work, if I went home early. On days when it gets really bad, Robin fills it in. She writes down what I eat and when. If I was nauseous, if I left my bed at all. Everything.”

Dustin lands on three weeks ago. To the day after Eddie came home. That day was marked at an eight. The next day a nine. The one after that, also a nine. Then an eight. Then it went down slowly over the next day.

“It started after Starcourt, when I got them more frequently. The doctor suggested I keep a journal for a few months, to make sure nothing else was going on. That it wasn’t getting worse. I’ve kept one ever since.”

“This,” he points at the date. “This was the big one?”

Steve nods. “It’s the most painful, lasts a few days. I get then about once a month. They average at three days, building in the days before and then being really bad, before going down again. The bad days is what we dub ‘the big one.’ I don’t really count the build up to it, because it’s normal. Until it isn’t.”

None of this was normal. To most people, this wasn’t normal. But it was to Steve. He walked through life like this. Where he can’t go a week without a migraine. Or even just a small headache. This was his normal.

“I can’t promise I’ll always tell you when they happen. When it gets bad, I can barely open my eyes, let alone want to speak. But, if you really want to know, I keep this on my desk. You can look at it anytime.”

It’s everything he wanted, right here in his hands. Worse than he was thinking, but he knows.

“Thank you.”

Steve nods. “I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. I really didn’t want you to worry about it. And I didn’t know how much it was affecting you. I would have told you if I knew sooner.”

The front door opens, Wayne calling out that they were back. There’s shuffling in the hallway. A muffled argument. A slammed door.

Steve sighs. “Give me a minute. Then I can drive you home, ok.”

Dustin nods. Closing the book and running his fingers around the corners. They were all going to be ok, he tells himself. They were all going to be ok.

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[koiiiji]

HYPERFIXATION

sangho in old style drawing>>>

tw ; ; possessive, jealousy, egoism (tell me when sanghon don't), yandere.

warnings ; mentions of death (not main char.), mention of depressive episode, suggestive.

please no spam likes, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!

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Sangho have a perverted concept of love.

for sure, he love his siblings, he love Hwangyeon in his own way, always approaching him to train, study, not to rely always on him, fucking his brains about army and work, because Hwang already was old enough to take responsibility for his own life, but this brat always was too relaxed and reliable on Sangho's money and wealth.

for Aria things was quite more easy, since she didn't brought any harm and extra work to do as Hwangyeon, who was the master in bringing extra pain in the ass to his older brother. Sangho just provided Aria with all essentials and nowadays popular stuff and he thought that would be enough. his younger sister go to nice school, wear nice clothes and always have money on her bank account, so she doesn't need to go through what her brother went, she can have above the normal school life - Sangho totally understand concept that she just a teenage girl.

but with you… oh dear, his love for you is whole different level. just start from the point that you was with him from beginning, this is the point why he appreciates you in the first place.

he happened to met you in training center where he went to train for his earliest competitions, even before he was in national team. but hold on. you was with them. with him and Maheyon. yeah, that too optimistic and windy guy who thought that in this world you can just enjoy bike ride...that bitch.

unfortunately, you didn’t make it to the national team with them, and the women’s team was not formed yet, so you were allowed to train with them and be part of the team as an analyst and technical assistant. so you three always met in the hall of training center and went homes together.

many things changed from that times, but Sangho always remember your smile. oh, dear, he never forget you had different types — gentle smile when you even close your eyes slowly, as you greet them each meeting, exiting one when your eyes shines and you run towards them for a tight hug, congratulating them with another win on completion. and his personal favorite - that comfort, soft smile you have when you look at something you like and it seems that even atmosphere around you is shining.

and Sangho hated that he needed to share any of your smiles with Maheyon.

he knew what kind of feelings that bastard had for you, and it makes his blood boil. every time he saw how your naive eyes blink at another Maheyon's attempt to flirt with you, Sangho was thankful for his stoic face and self control for not slamming that brat face right in the wall. but you, such a pretty, little thing were naive enough not to catch Maheyon's romantic feelings for you, but still the fact that you took him as a really close friend irritated Sangho. he never liked to share.

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as the news of Maheyon's tragic death spread, a somber cloud descended upon whole team. the accusations of doping tarnished his legacy, leaving behind a shattered reputation and unanswered questions. the loss of your friend hit each of you differently, but none felt it as profoundly as you, who regarded Maheyon almost as a brother.

tears flowed freely as you stood by his graveside, the weight of grief heavy in your heart. memories of shared laughter and cherished moments flooded your mind, each one a painful reminder of what was now lost. your sobs mixed and echoed with all other people who came to honor Maheyon's memory in the quiet cemetery, a haunting melody of sorrow that pierced through the silence.

Sangho, standing nearby, observed your anguish with a conflicted heart. while outwardly offering you comfort and support, inwardly he was faced with a strange feeling of joy and elation. with each tear you shed for Maheyon, a small part of Sangho couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction that now, finally, all your attention would be directed solely towards him. he will make sure of it.

in the following days and weeks, as you grappled with the overwhelming grief of losing Maheyon, Sangho found himself basking in the newfound attention that came his way. sport sponsors and managers seemed like beasts, not having time to properly mourn one athlete, they quickly found a replacement for him in the form of Sangho, once hesitant to invest in him, now saw an opportunity in his rising star. offers poured in, promising lucrative endorsements and opportunities for financial growth. the whispers of his business ventures grew louder and louder, drawing more and more attention of investors and entrepreneurs alike. Sangho seized the opportunity to establish himself outside of the shadow of Maheyon, determined to prove his worth and carve out his own path to success.

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the rain hadn’t let up in days. it was as if the entire world had become soaked in gray, the heavy, endless downpour matching the numbness that had settled over your heart. every day felt the same. long, quiet hours alone in the apartment, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of your grief press down on you like a constant, invisible force.

if it weren’t for Sangho, you weren’t sure how you would have survived these past weeks. he was the only one who visited, the only one who still checked in. your friends had gradually disappeared, maybe busy with their own lives, or maybe they just didn’t know how to deal with your constant sadness. and your parents, living too far away to visit regularly, could only call. but Sangho… he had stayed. every night, he brought food, sat with you in the quiet, and listened when you had the energy to talk.

you were grateful. grateful for his steady presence, for the fact that he hadn’t abandoned you like everyone else seemed to.

you heard the familiar knock at the door just as the rain grew heavier outside, the dull thud of raindrops on the windows now a constant, almost hypnotic sound. you stood up slowly, wiping your face, though you hadn’t realized you’d been crying again. Sangho was here.

opening the door, you were greeted by his familiar, calm face. his expression softened when he saw you, concern filling his eyes. “you haven’t been sleeping, have you?” he asked quietly, stepping inside and setting down a plastic bag of food. scent of warm takeout filled the room, a welcome distraction from the cold, lifeless atmosphere that seemed to cling to everything.

“i guess not,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. you felt like a shell of yourself, too tired even to fight the exhaustion. “thanks for coming again, Sangho. i don’t know what i’d do without you…”

his lips curved into a small smile, though there was something darker behind it that you were too weary to notice. “you don’t have to thank me. i’m glad to be here.”

he moved into the kitchen, unpacking the food with practiced ease, like this was routine now. and in a way, it was. time to time, he’d show up, bringing food, keeping you company while the world outside your window seemed to disappear under the heavy rain.

as you sat on the couch, staring at the steaming containers of food, you realized how much you’d come to rely on him. his presence was the only thing keeping you grounded, the only thing that felt real in the haze of your grief. you didn’t have the energy to reach out to anyone else anymore, and they didn’t seem to be trying either.

“Sangho,” you started, your voice soft and hesitant. “you’ve been coming here almost every day. i just… i feel like i’m leaning on you too much.”

he looked up, a gentle smile on his lips, but his eyes flashed with something unreadable. “you’re not. you need someone, and i’m ready to be that person for you. after everything, it’s the least i can do.”

you smiled weakly, your heart twisting with both gratitude and guilt. “i don’t know how to repay you…”

he walked over to you, sitting down beside you on the couch, close enough that you could feel his warmth. “you don’t need to repay me,” he said softly, his voice low and soothing. “i’m doing this because i care about you. and Maheyon wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

Maheyon. his name still hurt, still brought the sting of tears to your eyes. you nodded, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “i miss him,” you whispered. Sangho’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but his voice remained calm. “i know. but i’m here too. you don’t need to keep thinking about him.”

you blinked, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. “what do you mean?”

he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist. “i mean that you’re not alone. you have me. you don’t need to keep clinging to someone who’s gone when i’m right here.”

his words sent a ripple of unease through you, but you dismissed it, telling yourself that he was just trying to help. after all, he was right. Maheyon was gone, and you were still here, trying to piece together the shattered remains of your life. Sangho was the one who had stayed. the only one who had stayed.

“i’m not trying to forget him,” you said softly, lowering your gaze. “it’s just hard to let go.”

“you don’t have to let go all at once,” Sangho replied, his voice suddenly gentle again, as if sensing your discomfort. he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “just let me help you through this. you’ll feel better if you stop thinking about him so much.”

the way he said it made it sound so simple, so reasonable. and you wanted to believe him. you were so tired of feeling this way, so tired of the pain, the loneliness. maybe Sangho was right. maybe if you just stopped thinking about Maheyon so much, you could finally move on...

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hours passed as the rain drummed on, and your head eventually fell against his shoulder, exhaustion finally overtaking you. good, he thought. you needed rest, needed to stop thinking so much. thinking about him.

when your tear-stained eyes finally closed and your breathing deepened into the soft rhythm of sleep, Sangho stayed still for a moment, just watching you. you were so fragile, so beautiful, clinging weakly to the fabric of his shirt as if he were your anchor. his ego boosted with pride at the thought — you didn’t even realize how much you needed him now, how completely you depended on him.

but there was still one problem. Maheyon. ghost that haunted your every thought. every time you cried, it was for him. every time you seemed lost, it was because of him.

carefully, Sangho shifted you from his lap, laying you gently against the couch cushions. his eyes lingered on your sleeping form for a moment, the soft rise and fall of your chest, your lips slightly parted as you breathed. he almost wanted to kiss you right then, to claim you in a way Mahyeon never could. but no. not yet. he had to be patient.

Sangho stood, his gaze shifting around your apartment. it was truly your place, lived-in, but to him, it was polluted. everywhere he looked, there were reminders of Maheyon — photographs of the three of you from past competitions, souvenirs from trips abroad when you were all together, little things that held too much meaning, things that kept you tethered to a memory that should have been long dead.

a photo on the shelf caught his eye. you, Maheyon, and Sangho standing together, smiling after a big win at a cycling competition in Japan. Sangho remembered that day well, but not for the same reason you did. back then, you had admired Maheyon, looked at him like he was some kind of hero. and Maheyon had basked in it, clueless, while Sangho watched from the sidelines.

Sangho's jaw clenched, a cold rage building beneath the surface.

without a second thought, he picked up the photo frame, turning it over in his hands. his fingers traced the edges of the glass, his heart pounding with anger as he stared at Maheyon’s face. slowly, deliberately, he placed the frame back on the shelf — face down. it wouldn’t be there the next time he visited. one piece at a time. one memory at a time. he would erase Maheyon from your life, remove every trace of him until you forgot he ever existed.

satisfied, Sangho moved to the small table near the couch. there was a little trinket — a souvenir from that same trip, a gift from Maheyon. it had been with you for years, something you always kept close. but not anymore.

with practiced ease, Sangho slipped the small souvenir into his pocket. it wasn’t the first thing he’d taken. over the past few weeks, he had been quietly removing pieces of Maheyon from your apartment, exchanging them for little gifts of his own. new vase here, a framed photo of just the two of you there. you never noticed. how could you? you were too lost in your grief, too dependent on him now to care about such small changes. but those small changes added up.

he reached into his bag and pulled out a new gift — a delicate necklace, simple but elegant. he placed it carefully on the table where the souvenir had been, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. every time you looked at it, you’d think of him. not Maheyon. Sangho been patient. he knew it was only a matter of time before you realized how much better your life was with him in it. and when that time came, you would be his. completely.

as he returned to the couch, he sat down beside you again, watching you sleep. his fingers brushed against your hair, tenderly, lovingly. you belonged to him. you just didn’t know it yet.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you woke to the sound of the rain, the world around you still dark, still gray. your head felt heavy, your thoughts sluggish as you tried to remember when you fall asleep. then you felt it — Sangho’s presence beside you, his hand resting gently on your arm.

“hey,” he said softly, smiling down at you. “you fell asleep. i didn’t want to wake you.”

you blinked, rubbing your eyes as you sat up. your body ached with the weight of your exhaustion, but Sangho’s presence, as always, made you feel just a little lighter. “thanks for staying,” you softly murmured, grateful for the comfort of having him there. “i don’t know what i’d do without you...”

his smile widened, but something flickered behind his eyes, something dark. “you don’t have to worry about that. i’m not going anywhere.”

you smiled weakly, still too tired to notice the subtle shift in the room, the way something felt... different. you glanced at the table where something familiar small had once sat, but your eyes landed on a new necklace instead — a gift from Sangho, no doubt. you didn’t remember moving the old trinket, but it didn’t matter. you didn’t have the energy to question it.

Sangho watched as you stare at the table, your still groggy from the nap eyes blinking up, reaching for his gift. he couldn’t help but smile. you looked so unaware like this. so vulnarable.

you tried to sit up, your body still heavy with sleep, and as you moved, your hand brushed against his thigh. the innocent touch sent a jolt through Sangho, a thrill he hadn’t expected. he froze, his eyes darkening as his mind raced. the thought came unbidden. you were so close, so fragile, and the way you unconsciously leaned into him, trusting him — it made his blood run hot.

he couldn’t take it anymore. weeks of patience, weeks of restraint. late-night visits, the careful words, the slow dismantling of everything that tied you to Maheyon and past life. he’d been so good, so careful. but seeing you like this, vulnerable and unaware, stirred something primal in him.

before he could stop himself, Sangho leaned in. his hand slipped behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he gently tilted your face up toward him. his gaze locked onto your lips, and for a second, his breath caught. he needed you.

and then he kissed you.

it wasn’t a soft kiss — not the way he had planned. no, this was desperate, hungry. his lips pressed hard against yours, and his hand tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, almost as if he was afraid you might disappear if he let go. he could taste the salt of your tears from earlier, could feel your soft gasp of surprise as your lips parted beneath his. but you didn’t pull away, not immediately.

for a brief, dizzying moment, he thought you would give in. that you would melt into him, let him consume you the way he had always wanted. his free hand moved to your waist, fingers grazing the soft skin just above your hips, feeling the warmth of you through the thin fabric of your shirt and you felt a shiver of something unfamiliar — something that made your skin tingle with a strange mix of heat and fear. his grip tightened, his fingers possessive as they pulled you closer, towering over your figure, and his kiss deepened, more forceful, more demanding than anything you had ever imagined coming from him.

your heart pounded in your ears, panic rising as you realized what was happening.

finally, you pulled back, breaking the kiss with a soft gasp, your hands coming up instinctively to push against his chest. look in his eyes was wild, dark — something you had never seen before. for a moment, you were frozen, your mind racing, trying to piece together what had just happened.

and then, he felt it too — a tremor in your body, a hesitation. and reality crashed back in. Sangho blinked, his breath shallow, heart racing as he realized what he’d done. his lips still tingled from the kiss, the taste of you lingering in his mouth, but something cold settled in his chest. he wasn’t supposed to do this — not like this.

“i-i…” you stammered, your voice trembling, unsure of what to say. your mind was spinning. this was Sangho. your friend. the one person who had been by your side past all this hard time. but the way he had kissed you — it didn’t feel like friendship. it felt like something much more intense, something you didn’t know how to process.

and the way he was looking at you now… it scared you.

he looked at you, saw the confusion and — was that fear? — in your eyes. his stomach twisted. too soon. he’d lost control.

“i’m sorry,” he said quickly, his voice softer now, trying to keep the panic from showing. he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched. the movement was small, barely noticeable, but Sangho felt it like a punch to the gut. no, no, no. don’t be scared of me.

“I didn’t mean to… it just… i got caught up in the moment,” he lied, forcing a smile that he hoped looked apologetic. inside, his mind was racing. you weren’t ready yet. he had been so careful, so patient, and now he had almost ruined it. but he could still fix this. he just had to pull back, make you trust him again.

“i-i just wasn’t expecting that,” you said softly, your voice trembling with embarrassment. your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn’t meet his gaze for more than a few seconds. “Sangho… we’re friends... you’ve always been my friend. i didn’t think…”

“Of course, it's okay” Sangho said quickly, swallowing down the dark frustration bubbling up inside him. your hands fidgeted in your lap, and you gave a small, awkward nod.

Sangho forced another smile, though his insides churned with impatience. it wasn’t okay. none of this was okay. but he held back, telling himself this was a minor setback. he could still play the long game. you were still dependent on him, still clinging to him for support. he just had to be more careful, more patient.

not for much longer, though.

“let’s just forget about it,” Sangho said, his tone gentle. “we can go back to the way things were. i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

you smiled weakly, still embarrassed, and nodded. “yeah… thanks...”

as you leaned back against the couch, closing eyes to calm your nerves, you couldn't notice how Sangho's lips curled a little.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈౨ৎ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

author's note ; I FINALLY FINISHED IT!!! I THINK THIS FIC WAS IN DRAFTS FOR 5(??) MONTH!! BUT I FINALLY DID IT OMGG🥸

MASTERLIST

[simp-ly-writes]

Here With Me

─────── · · A Smosh Fanfic

Pairing: Ian Hecox x gn!childhood-friend!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: you could confidently say that you were a fan since practically day one, growing up alongside Anthony and Ian before life has you changing schools, states, and relationships only to come back together and for what? a company that is falling a part as soon as it had grown legs? but maybe there is something or someone that allows you to stand above it all... and you the same for them...

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, light swearing, mutual pining, heartache, friends/lovers, play fighting, possible cringe, angst and fluff.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,609

─ · · A/N: sorry, no update for the comments section just yet, university and college have me running laps to keep up but i offer this instead! hope you enjoy! 😊

─────── · ·

You had lived in the same neighbourhood as Ian; rode the same bus in the morning as him, sat through the same repetitive morning math classes and shared notes (but if anyone took a closer look, you both were drawing imaginary cartoons in the corners). Hell, he was even your first "date" to the sixth grade halloween dance, you both dressed up as ghosts, Anthony the ghostbuster chasing you around the gym before being told off by the English teacher.

Ian never failed to make you laugh, you thought him to be one of your greatest friends with his blunt and increasingly dark humour as you both aged and went off to different school districts. Those days of laying in the grass of his backyard as he ranted out various video ideas you failed to understand but choose to actively listen, appreciating his enthusiasm and his mom would come outside warning you to make it back home for in time for dinner. Sitting in his room, watching them scream jokes at one another at the top of their lungs as you did your best to muffle your laughs. Or dipping out of the way as Anthony ran by with a camera to riding your bikes to the corner store to sit on the curb, popsicles dripping down your forearms were soon long gone as you both grew into different people.

You remember missing Ian, Anthony, all your friends you had grown up with dearly. Looking back, you hated to admit how much you felt the need to forget your old self in the new environment... Moving to a new neighbourhood and trying to fit in among the established friend groups. Changing your style, your phone number, your hair, and interests to try and desperately fit in and go out with that one friend you had a crush on.

You fell into that new person, those check in emails you would send over to the boys now long forgotten as the years went by. And by the time graduation came around, that friend you had been dating those past four years, the person you thought to be that high school sweetheart you would somehow spend the rest of your life with became the biggest asshole you had ever met. Dropping your ass just before you walked the stage and into the summer sun.

When you would come home to start packing your bags to university in another state, a familiar voice was echoing down the hall. You swore it to be just in your grief of a failed relationship you spent so much time in rather than discovering who you truly wanted to be. But as you opened your younger siblings door just a creak, you saw Ian and Anthony playing in video across their desktop screen.

The brown cardboard box you were holding dropped on your feet as you cursed out in pain, the door slamming in on your face as you asked for the link only to receive no answer. You cursed, looking down at your phone, cursed at all your decisions as your once friends started blocking your number, and all you wanted in that moment was to be a kid once more...

─────── · ·

Was bringing flowers too cliche, the wrong message, did I remember the house number wrong? You anxious stream of consciousness flooded any sane thoughts as you tapped your foot against the concrete paver and stared into the chipped red-painted door. You could faintly hear footsteps moving behind, a woman yelling and another series of footsteps trailing behind and soon you were met with glasses, a striped shirt, and wide eyes.

"WHAT THE FUCK," Ian ever-so graciously greeted you before stepping aside and letting you in. His mother waved at you from down the hall, her rollers in before the bathroom door closed just as the front door did behind you.

Ian held out his hand as you started to reach out to shake it awkwardly before remembering the flowers in your hand and shoving them into his palm instead. "Here!"

"uh, thank you?" He took them in his hand, eyes shifting around your face before walking out of the entryway and into the kitchen, silently expecting you to follow along as you slowly took the pictures in from along the walls. A small smile with hazy eyes crossing your features in a subtle display as you bump into his front, flowers in water, sat on the counter behind himself.

He holds out his hand once again as you look down at it and against your better judgement, you loop your arms over his shoulders and pull him in for a hug. His brown hair tickles your nose as you let out a soft breath, barely hearing Ians identical response as his arms raise, hands spraying out across your back. "Its good to see you again, Ian... I-I really missed you, so fucking much," you choke out, raising your head slightly to blink away the hot tears as he pulls you in that much tighter before stilling by the sound of a new voice.

"IAN! I have a new idea what if we- how shit, you never told me- oh fuck, well- hi! good to see you again," Anthony staggers to a complete sentence as you and Ian drop each other in an instant and turn to face your other old friend coming in from the screen-door.

You smile, hands extending up and outwards as he rushes over to give you a short hug. You all take that moment to stare at one another before Ian suddenly starts laughing and you and Anthony can't help but do the same in disbelief of the situation.

"Fuck, where did all the time go?" you blurt out and after some pizza order in with a six pack of soda. You were all crowded around the television super mario on the screen as you all sat on top of one another getting noise complaints from the neighbours for hogging the controller.

─────── · ·

You hated how fast summer came and went between being the cameraperson to film their videos to helping Anthony manage the website and to listen to Ians endless stream of ideas while also telling him off of the completely outrageous ones all the which Anthony was forever grateful to have another person to agree with him and have Ian actually listen.

And as you were loading the last boxes into your trunk before slamming the door closed. You felt the cold glass against your palms as warm tears threatened to spill from your tear ducts. A hand was placed gently on your shoulder, twisting you into their front as you gripped the plaid shirt Ian wore.

You looked at him, laughing internally at his foggy glasses for to only come out as sobs. "I'm sorry for having to leave again... i'm sorry Ian that this keep happening, fuck I am a really shitty friend and things were just starting to feel... normal again."

"Nothing is normal with us three," Anthony retorts, walking up the driveway a tray of coffee's in hand as you all cringe and then manage a laugh. You and Ian still hold each other in a side hug as you grab your drinks, your parents stand to the side, observing the moment as you glare at the sudden flash from your peripheral vision.

"You'll thank me in the future," you parent yells from the grass as you shake your head. "Yeah, right!" you retort with a roll of your eyes before smiling at Ian already finding him doing the same. "I'm going to miss you too," Ian speaks softly, giving your side one last squeeze before dropping his arm, allowing you and Anthony you share a moment together.

Anthony placed his drink on the roof of your car as you do the same. Your eyes go wide as he turns you away so that you can no longer see anyone and pulls you into a hug. "I think we almost have something, don't you dare miss out on it this time but also like- have fun or whatever. Just make sure to not loose any of our numbers."

"Never again," you state with conviction as you pull away before walking up to the drivers door and taking your seat. Putting your hands at the top of the wheel, your head on top your flash through images of popsicles, scrapped knees and bikes with soda cans before backing out and onto the road.

A series of curses are thrown as you begin to slowdown and look through the rearview mirror, your back window now hard to see through the brown sludge making its way down from the... roof. Ah fuck.

─────── · ·

You made sure not to make the same mistakes as your younger self and kept in contact with the boys, this time around you were one thousand times more grateful of it too as they offered you a portion of the channel as soon as you graduated from your media studies and production degree.

You moved back to California without a second thought. Sure, you had truly made some good friends and connections but just the thought of roller blading down another hallway, camera in hand had that childhood excitement you had missed ever-so dearly coming back and you just had to follow it.

It made you smile seeing your name return to the credits alongside Ian and Anthonys... in reality you were the only names on that list but it was the sentiment nonetheless. Yet it would only be a matter of time that would change...

─────── · ·

You were now a somewhat figure head to your own... department somehow. You were still unsure of the complete deal as the boys walked you through the new space the company you all had worked together to build as kids and it was a surreal experience touching all that expensive equipment you thought to have left behind at university and to have actual track across the floors and not your roller blade marks was a bittersweet feeling.

You and Ian left Anthony to take a call as you introduced yourselves to the new employees, failing to notice their curious gazes and hushed whispers about the two of you.

The crew loved watching the two of you interact (and soon the fans loved any glimpse of you, it would be the only thing mentioned). You fixing his hair and glasses as he floated a hand on your hip before going in front of camera. Him sending you winks and personalized jokes before going on air. You grabbing and waiting to eat lunch with him in the cafeteria. Always ensuring a seat beside the other or sitting on the same chair.

Yet as HR had once came in and asked, the office becoming silent as you both laughed and waved it off as old friends would before returning to work and as you worked you were more than surprised to learn that people actually recognized you from frames you failed to get out of in old skits and your name at the bottom of descriptions.

─────── · ·

Adulthood had once again touched that childlike innocence you were protecting as you came into your first of a hundred or more meetings sat between Ian and Anthony sharing notes with of course doodles and cartoons before being told off like kids once again by corporate. That word itself left a bitter taste in your mouth as you stared down at your hands wondering just what else did the universe have out for me, for us?

(And you did right to question).

─────── · ·

The channels, yes channels, you would laugh at your past self for not comprehending the sheer scale Smosh was operating at now as you physically ran between sets and stages that hosted dozens of cast and crew alike.

In the energy of it all, you, Ian, and Anthony barely saw one another besides the boardroom or as you watched them in front of camera. It was moments like this as you handled a small handheld camera in the corner that you felt a draft of the old come in from up the floor planks and greet you with a immovable smile upon your face.

You loved all the creatives you worked with, and even dated a few guests on the show. Yet you hated to admit to yourself when dining with them, how much you thought of Ian... and Anthony. You could not remember the last time you spoke in a room alone, went out together, had a drink or even had a sleepover.

You also failed to remember at what point you had started to grow jealous over Anthony for being able to spend so much time with Ian outside of work as they lived and worked alongside one another. You felt stupid for feeling left out but then again, you could not help the way you feel and silently let your emotions brew beneath the surface as months dragged into years only for things all to come to a staggering halt.

─────── · ·

Anthony was leaving was the first bump into what would be a cliff dive face first into a deep unknown for Smosh as you were mercilessly trapped to the wheel, Ian not forced to your passengers side as you observed everything happening for you.

Next was the bankruptcy and that dark little wish you had within you soon became a sickening truth as you allowed Ian and some of your friends, the cast and crew into your two bedroom apartment with cracked ceilings and moldy faucets.

Ian and you shared a room like you had in the past, it was your sleepovers all over again but your backs faced one another. "I... I will understand if you leave too... I don't want to hold you back when you have a degree and your partner to take care of-" Ian begins to speak in a corse tone, his voice strained from the long day as you blink yourself away and catch onto his words with an equally heavy heart.

"I-I promised not to leave again, I can't just leave you here with this Ian. We will find a way... we did it every other time, didn't we?" you reassure in an unsure tone as Ian laughs earnestly onto to let out a pained sigh by the end.

You can hear the bedding shuffle as he turns to face your back, you feel his gaze run over your shoulder before you twist your neck to connect eyes and then your body as you roll into his side, letting out a sigh.

"Thank you... for staying, I really need you in more ways than one, always," Ian's voice now barely above a whisper as you hear the hall bathroom light hum on as you both groan out in frustration to the light peaking out from underneath the door.

"I'll always need you too, Ian. You ain't ever getting rid of me," you joke. Head now tucked underneath his arm.

"Oh fuck, well I guess I'll have to kill you and hire a necromancer later..." Ian mumbles with a yawn, his ankles intertwining with your own.

"Oh shut up, you-" you begin, hand now playing with the loose threads of his shirt.

"Hey! thats my line," Ian closes his eyes as he holds a delicate smile, you are already asleep and fail to reply. Somehow you both knew in that moment that things would be just alright and you both were just fine with that.

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: opinions, thoughts? 😇

─ · · TAGLIST: @lisiliely

[breannasfluff]

Behind the school, Kitty and Johnny are snarling at each other. 

“I swear, I wasn’t checking out the other ladies!”

“I saw you looking, Johnny! I have eyes of my own!”

“Babe, you’re the only one for me!”

Kitty slaps him. “Well, I don’t want you anymore!” Then she catches sight of Danny hovering above. “Come to gawk at this loser?”

He holds up his hands, ignoring the fact that they shake slightly. “No, I don’t want to get in the middle of your fight.”

Johnny revs his bike and Shadow spreads like a cape behind him. “You’re asking for a beating, punk! No one wants you here; this is between us!”

“There is no us!” Kitty looks ready to start slapping again. “Why can’t you get it through your thick, greasy head?”

Danny has far too much experience with fights to get in the middle of a lover's quarrel—again. Unfortunately, Johnny isn’t going to let him slide away. 

Leaving Kitty, still yelling, he spins his bike and accelerates at Danny.

The half-ghost, still weak from little food, doesn’t move. One second Johnny is on the ground, and the next he’s slamming into Danny. Did he teleport? Or is Danny’s reaction time just that slow?

Either way, the contact throws him against the brick wall of the school before he can go intangible. Something in his back cracks with the impact, sending a bolt of pain through him. Automatically, he sends a thread of ectoplasm to stabilize whatever was injured until his healing kicks in. 

Even this takes longer than it should. By the time Danny is back in the air, too many seconds have passed. Johnny has plenty of time to punch him or set Shadow on him. He does neither.

“Ghost kid?” Johnny sits on his bike, frowning at him. “You’re moving pretty slow, there.”

Danny glares, drawing ecto-energy to his fists in preparation for an attack. For a second there’s two Johnny’s before he blinks and they snap back together. Squinting slightly, Danny throws a blast. 

It fizzles out halfway there and they both watch the spark disappear. 

“Wow. That was pathetic.” Despite the insult, there’s something in Johnny’s eyes that puts Danny on edge. Not like he’ll attack, but like he’s seeing more than Danny wants him to. “You look like crap. Go take a nap, kid.”

“Can’t,” he grumbles, floating slowly to the ground. If Johnny isn’t attacking, he’ll save his energy from levitating. “Got school. Any chance you two can finish your argument somewhere else?”

Kitty’s face twists like she’s bitten into a lemon, but she climbs stiffly on the bike behind Johnny when he brings it down. “This dump sucks anyway. Let’s go.”

Danny lets the transformation drop as they leave but doesn’t go back into the school. Instead, he slumps against the rough brick and lets his head fall back. That’s the second ghost who’s given up without a fight and left. Is he really so pathetic-looking that he’s not worth the fight? Or are the ghosts planning something worse?

Read the rest here

[0cta9on]

IVE Gaeul Short Story

Heya there dude✌️Great day to you

Can I have a short about Gaeul?

"Despite being younger than her, you still treat her like a baby, which she seriously protests. She can be tsundere at times. Cutest thing about her especially when she accidentally blurts her true feelings, then quickly covers it up."

In IVE she's the oldest but shortest one, due to her small figure she sometimes gets teased by her member, imo that's her cutest charm 😭 hope this enlightens your day☺️

Hello mikeylo! Tbh I had no idea Gaeul is the oldest in IVE, I always assumed it was Yujin :> This might be a little different than what you ask for, but I hope you enjoy it regardless :]

It's a great day outside - the sun is shining, birds are chirping, and the breeze is... breezing. Perfect day for a bike ride through the park. You text the group chat, inviting them all to join you on your ride, only to be met with an array of excuses of why they can't go.

"My stomach hurts."

"My grandma is in the hospital and I need to see her."

"I have a date today." (He definitely doesn't, but you guess someone else took his excuse)

Right as you think you're gonna have to tough it out alone, you get another text that brings a smile to your face.

Gaeul: I'll go with you.

______________________________________________________________

"See, isn't this so nice, noona?"

You go on bike rides often, so this is all pretty second nature to you. Gaeul, on the other hand...

"H-how the f-freak do you ride this th-thing?"

She hasn't even looked at, let alone ridden a bike, since elementary school. Had you known that, you would've suggested just going for a walk instead, but Gaeul insisted on going on this bike ride with you.

You get off your bike and go to help her. "Here, just keep your arms steady and-" You place your hand on hers to steady the handles, but she swats your hand away.

"I-I can do it by myself, j-just tell me what to do."

"Uh, alright, the main thing is to keep the handlebars steady, if you shake too much like you're doing now, you're going to fall over."

Gaeul tries to move forward, but can barely go a few feet without placing her foot on the ground.

You sigh. "Are you sure you want to do this, noona? We can do something else if you want-"

"No!" She exclaims, drawing some looks from other people at the park. Her cheeks burn pink with embarrassment. "I-I can do this, just- AH!"

Gaeul falls to the ground, scraping her knee against the pavement. In a panic, you run to her side to assess the damage.

"Noona! Are you okay!? Do you need anyth-"

"Ugh, I'm fine! It's just a little scrape." The scratch on her knee is bright red against her porcelain skin. It is, indeed, just a little scrape, but you can't stop yourself from worrying.

"There's a convenience store nearby, I can go and get some bandages real quick-"

"I'm not a child!" Gaeul huffs at you with anger and annoyance. "I told you I'm fine, you idio- Ow!"

As she tries to stand up, a pain shoots through her leg, causing her to fall back down. Before she can protest, you pick up her and carry her to a nearby bench.

"Yah, what are you doing, put me down-"

"Noona," you interrupt her, looking into her eyes. "You say you're fine a lot, but I can tell when you're lying. You never tell anyone about your problems so no one has to worry about you, but that only makes me worry more. I know you better than anyone else in this world, so please let me help you."

She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out, only a blank thoughtful stare. You place her gently on the bench.

"I'll be right back, okay? I'm gonna get some bandages," you say. Gaeul gives you a small nod before you run to the convenience store.

______________________________________________________________

You return to her a couple minutes later with some Hello Kitty bandages and a banana milk. Gaeul is staring at the ground, that same blank expression on her face.

"Here." You poke the straw through the lid of the banana milk. "Drink up."

"I can do it myself, y'know..." She mutters under her breath, taking the drink from your hand.

"I know, but I want to do it for you, okay?" She turns her head away to hide the blush on her cheeks, but you still see it anyways. So cute.

You carefully place a Hello Kitty bandage on her knee, offering an apologetic look after she winces from the pain.

"There, all good now." You smile up at her, but she averts her gaze. "Are you okay, noona?"

"I'm fine-"

"No. I know that look on your face. If you really don't want to say it, I won't pry, but please just let me help you," you plead.

Gaeul sighs, dropping her gaze to the ground. "Why do you treat me like such a kid?"

"Wha...?

"I'm older than you, y'know. I should be the one getting you bandages and banana milk."

You look at her, confused. Her expression is oddly serious, a far cry from her usual fiery self.

"Noona, I just want to help-"

"Well, I never asked for your help!" She yells at you. Her voice is angry, but you can see tears welling up in her eyes. "You're so... annoying sometimes, y'know that!? Always asking how I'm doing, taking care of me like I'm some kind of baby, well, I'm not a baby, you idiot! I can take care of myself!"

You're left stunned, your mind too boggled to say anything. How long has she felt like this? Did you make her uncomfortable? You look back on all the time you've spent with her. Were you being overbearing? All you ever did was look out for her. Where everyone else saw this angry girl, you saw someone who was dying to be understood, and you wanted to be the person that understood her.

You meet her eyes. Tears pour down her face with each shaky breath. "I-I'm sorry, noona, I... If you hate me so much, why did you agree to hang out with me?"

"Because I don't hate you, stupid, I like you!" Her cheeks burn red with passion. "And you're too good for me..." Just like a fizzling flame, Gaeul's anger devolves into a waterfall of tears.

You sit next to her and wrap you arms around her, pulling her into a gentle squeeze as she cries.

"W-why are you so nice to me...?" She asks in between sobs. "I push e-everyone else away, yet y-you always come back. Why?

A second passes before you're able to answer. "Because you're my friend, and I... I like you too. A lot."

Gaeul looks up at you, her cheeks red and wet with tears.

"I hate it when you think you have to deal with everything by yourself because you don't. You have a whole group of friends there for you. A-and me." You meet her eyes, heart thumping with nervous excitement. "I want you to rely on me the most. M-maybe I started treating you like a child because of that, I'm sorry-"

Gaeul kisses your cheek, sending a wave of electricity through your entire body. It was short and sweet, yet the heat lingers on your skin.

"I-I'm sorry for yelling at you," she says, not meeting your eyes. "You treat me so nicely, and I treat you like garbage.

"Would you kiss garbage on the cheek?" You quip, eliciting a cute giggle from her lips.

The sun falls behind the horizon, painting the sky above into an ombre of fiery orange and gentle indigo. You pull her closer to you, wrapping an arm around her waist as she rests her head on your shoulder. The two of you have a lot to talk about later, but right now, you just want to say in this moment, gazing at the sky.

[no-nameno-face]

Auburn Thoughts (Pt.3) WITH AUDIO

Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary:  After a messy ending to the party, Ellie takes you home. With the influence of liquid courage, you invite her up to your dorm room.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. sub!reader, dom!ellie, Mentions of Alcohol, Drunk!R, Jealousy, kissing, grinding, masturbation (kinda), Praise kink, minor pain kink, boob play (R!receiving), 

Author's Notes: slow burns are harddddd. But hey, I made it to part 3 before I let anything progress too far!!! Does that still qualify as a slow burn? Not sure. So pumped to be adding an audio to this series! I love making them sooo much its stupid. lmfao. This is just the beginning of Ellie and Readers.. Experiences. I'm excited to develop their relationship further. Hope you enjoy and have fun matching the audio to the story!&lt;;3 (I put in the story when the audio clip applies)

Part 2

Part 4

______________________________________________________________

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep up with her.

“I'm taking you home.” 

______________________________________________________________

I look back to the house, still trying to catch up with her “I need to let my friend know! She's gonna be worried.” I call to her, wrapping my arms around myself. The liquor wasn't warm enough to beat the chill of the night.

“Then she shouldnt have left you alone, wasted, at a fucking frat party!” She turns around a black bullet bike parked on the street, I catch up to her, stopping.

“Ellie, I can't” nodding my chin at the bike. She pulls the helmet off of the back.

“You can,” she hands it to me. “And you will.” Stern eyes. She goes back to her bike and swings her leg widely over the seat. My stomach tightens, I absorb her movements. She sits with one hand on the handlebars, the other on her thigh. “Helmet.” she commands, redirecting my thoughts.  Pulling it on, I walk to the side of the bike nervously. She pushes up on the seat making room for me behind her. I'm suddenly too aware of the short skirt I'm wearing. Thinking about it riding up my thighs, pushed up against her. Fuck, I’m thankful for the helmet hiding my raging blush. 

I look around to make sure no one's watching, Ellie’s looking straight ahead. I swing my leg over the seat and slide into place behind her. My chest to her back, my thighs behind hers. Pressed against her. I feel her tense against me. 

“Is this okay?” I feathered my hands around her waist. I feel her draw in a deep breath against me.

“Tighter.” she instructs. Warmth grows in my belly and swells into my thighs, despite the icy night and my exposed legs. I adjust myself and tighten my arms around her waist. She hesitates at this. “Where’s your place?” she breathes, turning her head slightly, looking at me over her shoulder.

“Um, I'm in the Mountain Side Dorms. Across from the Anderson Building.” 

“Got it.” she looks back to her handles, starting the bike. It roars alive, vibrating beneath us. I lift my legs and they settle in their place, she pushes off and gasses the bike. I find myself ducking into her back with the sudden motion, squeezing my arms and legs a bit tighter around her. After a moment of adjustment, I lift my head and look around. I watch the street lights streaming past us in ribbons. We are going fast, little to no traffic on the road at this time of night. The cold air is exhilarating, tantalizing on my skin, stealing the breath from my lips. My consciousness shifts down our bodies, memorizing the feel of her on me.

______________________________________________________________

She pulls around the front of my building and slows, planting her feet on the asphalt. Swinging my leg over the bike, I turn away from her to pull my skirt back down past my hips it had gathered on. I look over my shoulder in time to see her eyes traveling over my legs. 

She looks away quickly, hand going to the back of her neck rubbing it hard, looking down. Caught. I bite at my smirk beneath the helmet.

“You need to be more careful,” she says flatly, without looking at me. Setting the kickstand with her foot, her hips swing over the bike smoothly, experienced. Hands rubbing sweat on her thighs. I pull the helmet off, shaking my hair out, flyaways resting against my face. 

“I'm fine Ellie. It's not a big deal, nothing happened.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious” she looks at me intensely. I shy away beneath her gaze

“Yeah, I hear you. I’ll be more careful.” I step on a pebble at my feet, rolling it under my shoe. A silence settles between us. 

“Do you need help getting to your room?”

“Why? Looking for an invitation?” I look at her, the edges of my mouth turning up slightly, hoping to break the tension a bit. She shakes her head at her shoes.

“Fuck man,” eyes raise to mine, a small smile painting her lips. “you're hard to stay mad at.” our locked eyes fill the silence in my ears with an electric buzz.

“Let me walk you to the door.” she says, taking the helmet from my hands and setting it on the back of the bike. I don't protest. I bend over taking my heels off and hooking them in my hand. She looks at me, raising one scarred brow.

“My feet hurt!” I roll my eyes at her stare and start walking. I'm a bit steadier on my feet now after the sobering cold winds, although still a bit looser than normal.  She matches my pace, shoving her hands in her pockets. My mind drifts to my body flush against her. Her hair blowing in the wind, whipping my helmet. I think about my hands around her. “Tighter.” My hands tighten against my shoes and purse at the thought of her command. We reach the door and I scan my fob hearing the lock click, pulling the door open. 

“Alright, well..” she looks at the bottom of the open door. “Go get some rest.” she says, straightening herself, shifting her eyes to me. 

“I will.” I give her a soft smile. “Thank you for the ride.” I brush a hair out of my face with the back of my hand occupied by my purse. “I appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, of course.” She responds smoothly with a small nod. 

I think about her hardened voice from the bathroom, her hand slamming on the door, her anger towards that guy. How is this the same girl? She turns on her heels and begins walking back to her bike.

“Ellie.” It escapes my mouth before I can stop to think about what I’m doing. She turns her head to look at me. I look at the door then back to her. “Do you wanna,” I drift off, not sure how to ask casually.

“Wanna what?” she says, crooking her head to the side, the shadow of a smile on her lips. My eyes drift as I blow out a puff of air, my breath a cloud in the cold. Images rush me, her leading hand on my waist, her leaning over me on the bathroom counter. I imagine her sitting on my bed. I imagine her taking off my- My eyes shoot up, meeting green. Decided. 

“Do you wanna come up?”

She smiles and bites at her lip. My heart leaps. “I guess I wouldn't mind,” She swings her leg around, turning dramatically. My tongue presses into my teeth. She saunters towards me, eyes on me until she passes into the lobby. She looks around the expansive room. “Damn, this place is nice.” She approaches a table opposite of the elevators. It's got a random modern sculpture centered on it. She pokes at it.

“Don't break anything.” I say as I push the button. 

“Don't tempt me.”

The elevator slides open, she follows me in. I press 5, her eyes follow my hand. She leans against the railing as the doors close. I feel the air around us shift as the space closes in, charged. I notice her breathing change. Does she feel it too? I avoid looking at her. My hands start trembling ever so slightly.

Ding. 

Stepping out, I take a quiet deep breath. “Lead the way.” she prompts, looking at me with curious eyes. I walk, trying to think of something to say but blanking. I stop at my door, 528. Fumbling with my keys I realize the trembling in them has intensified. I know she sees it too. Finally, my key slides in and clicks the lock open. I open the door and walk in holding it behind me so she can follow. 

“Welcome to my humble abode.” My attempt at humor, trying to disguise the nervousness in my voice. I toss my shoes and purse on the ground next to the door. I take off my jacket, I feel eyes on my back as I do. I hook it on the rack, walking further into my room. Tossing a sideways glance at the mirror in the entryway as I walk by I see her trailing me, watching my every step. I feel goose bumos dance up my spine. I walk over to the dresser in front of my bed and pull open a drawer. I hear the bed creak behind me. 

“Your place is cute, it's cozy in here.” I fight the urge to turn and stare at her, on my bed. 

“Thanks.” I respond, a smile in my voice as I grabbed a pair of sweats and a tank top from the drawer and finally turn to see her. Exactly how I pictured it, with the addition of some clothing she was lacking in my mind. Shoes kicked off next to the bed, leaned against my headboard casually, ankles crossed. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.  “I’m gonna go change” I say pointing my thumb to the bathroom, following it with my body. 

I close the door behind me, and look in the mirror with wide eyes. “WHAT THE FUCK” I mouth to my reflection, gaping at myself. I push my back into the door. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What am I doing?! Shit, I need to hurry, she’s waiting for me. She’s waiting for me. I start pulling my top and skirt off, stumbling. I pull on the gray sweats and shrug on the white tank top. I take my hair out of the pony tail and ruffle it with my fingers. It’s messy, cute.. ish. I spritz some perfume on my collar bones and dab my wrists against it. I look at the ceiling and take a deep breath. I can do this, we are just hanging out. No expectations. I look at myself one last time and open the door. 

I find Ellie thumbing through the book that was on my nightstand. I walk to the other side of the bed, sitting stiffly, crossing my legs and clasping my hands in my lap. She looks more comfortable in my room than I am. I look at the ceiling light, unsure where to rest my eyes.

“So, who was that girl?” her voice rasps. I look at her, she's still gazing over the pages. 

“Chloe. We met freshman year. She’s basically my only friend out here.” I let out a small chuckle, looking at my hands. 

“Friends don't dance like that.” She shoots me a sideways glance. 

“Drunk friends do.” I suggest, meeting her eyes. She shrugs her shoulders and looks back to the book. “Who’s Cat?” I push back. Her name feels sour in my mouth, but I need to know. She sucks at her teeth ever so slightly.

“My ex,” she says as she turns the page. My heart pangs at the idea of Ellie and another girl. Touching. Kissing. Fucking. 

“Ex’s dont flirt like that.” 

“Drunk ex’s do.” she turns her head to me with amused eyes. 

“But she's your... I mean.. You guys dated!” I say passionately. “That's different than just a friend.” I say, raising my eyebrows. A beat of silence passes us, before she sets the book back on the table.

“Why do you care so much?” She asks, pushing up onto propped arms, leaning into the conversation. Her eyes narrow. “Why does it matter if she was flirting with me?” 

“Why do you care about my friend?” I lean in, mirroring her movements. “Why does it matter that we were dancing?” her eyes darken a bit, what thoughts are she hiding behind them?

A hot and heavy fog sets over us like a weighted blanket. Her chin tilts, observant. I worry she can read my eyes better than I can read hers. My eyes are hungry. Famished. tired of watching her legs beneath her canvas. Wanting them tangled with my own. Sick of watching her hands paint, aching to have them explore every inch of my body. Wanting to taste her skin, and have her taste mine. Craving her to want me as badly as I want her. 

[START OF AUDIO] 

With a breath heavy on her chest, eyes drift to my lips. “Tell me.” then up to meet mine, dark green. 

 Stare burning into me, she leans in closer. “Tell me why it matters to you.” I see it. The same hunger. 

“Ellie..” I breathe. 

That's all she needs to hear. 

Her lips crash into my own, a lightning strike. Tongue racing to explore my mouth, mine matches her journey. Her breath is hot on my face. Strong hands wrap around my cheeks as she pulls me deeper into her. I sit up on my knees, reaching. Her hands shift to my hips pulling me forcefully to straddle her lap. I let out a small sound against her lips when my cunt hits her jeans through my pants, her fingers digging into me as a response.

I drag my hips against her, hard. This time she lets out a sound. There's a primal response in my body at her needy moan, vibrating my lips. I can't wrap my head around what's happening, lost in the moment. Lost in her. She guides my hips in a steady rhythm over her, pushing down and into me. My hands bury in her hair as my wetness swells. Yes, yes, yes. 

I want her. I want more of her. I want to feel her skin, I want to lick it, bite it, drag my nails over it. Mark it as mine. Leave a lasting memory of this so I can be reminded that this isn't just a dream. So she can be reminded of me.

My hands reach blindly beneath me struggling with the buttons of her shirt. “I wanna s’you” I mumble against her mouth. I feel her smile into my lips before wrapping hands around my waist, pausing my rhythm against her to throw me onto my back across the bed. Knee parting my legs as I fall into the mattress. Her lips leave mine, I open my eyes at her, desperate. Starving. 

“So eager.” She sits up, kneeling above me. A god at her altar. She unbuttons her flannel slowly. Eyes carving shapes into my body beneath her. She shrugs her top layer off. My eyes travel down her body, a black form fitted tank top blanketed the skin I so desired. Her muscular arms exposed for the first time, your eyes pirouette down them, tracing her veins, landing on the tattoo covering her right forearm. I squeeze my leg around her thigh, bucking my hips once subconsciously at the sight of this new revealed territory. She looks me in the eyes, piercing me with hooded green.  

“come on, don't stop now.” she says pushing her knee into me, my mouth drops in a sweet sound and my eyes roll back as I start grinding against her. “hmm,” she sighs. “That's right. Look at me” she demands. I do. She reaches above her head grabbing the back of her shirt and pulling it off over her head in one smooth motion. Tossing it to the side, left in a black sports bra. I keep my rhythm on her knee, feeling myself soaking through the thong under my sweats. Small whimpers escaping my lips with each thrust. Her abs on display, toned. Hard. I wonder what they would feel like under me.

“You have no idea how long I've wanted this… wanted you.” she says, watching me pleasure myself on her thigh. Her hand and eyes find the bottom of my shirt, she slides her fingers under it, across my stomach looking up to me. Curious eyes.

“Can I?” she almost begs.

I give a small nod, eyes begging her to touch me, lips parted. Panting.

Both her hands slide up my stomach beneath my shirt, slowly. Too slowly. She's savoring this. My pussy pulses against her. Her eyes follow the outline of her hands under my shirt as she traces the underwire of my bra gently. Chills rise on my skin. She pulls her hands back down my stomach gripping the hem of my shirt and looks at me, I raise my arms as she peels it off of me and tosses it in the pile of clothes accumulating next to my bed. Her eyes hover on my chest. She whispers a quiet “fuck” as her hands follow the black bra around my sides. I arch my back to give her access. She unclasps it with a twist of her fingers and she breathes a moan in anticipation. She reaches to my shoulders, finger tips grazing my skin. She pulls the straps down slowly so they are slack. My chest rises and falls with trembling breaths. She leans down and plants a line of kisses on my collar bone, my head rolls to the side opening myself up to her. Her lips trace soft kisses and a tender tongue up my neck to the spot right behind my ear. 

Then she bites, hands tearing off my bra under her. 

I let out an urgent gasp, my hand grabbing at her hair. Legs contracting around her thigh. Greedy hands squeeze around my newly revealed flesh. She moans into my neck before sucking the bite mark, a stab of pain thrills me. I can't contain the moans of pleasure spilling from my mouth now.

“You like that?” Her voice is like a dream behind the curtain of pleasure I'm lost in. I manage to nod.

“Use your words.” she kneads my boobs firmly, my head still thrown back. Her hand grabs my chin and angles so I have to meet her eyes. 

“Say it.” She demands. looking over my exposed chest. Lust palpable in her eyes. When i dont answer she flicks a finger over my nipple. I heave at the sensation.

“Your.. your hands” I manage to get out between moans. She smiles at me, a mischievous grin. 

“That's my good girl,” she lets go of my jaw and dips down, taking my breast in her mouth, kneading the other. My response fills the room.

Her good girl.

 I look down at her. She’s already looking up to me with hooded eyes, she nips at me, I call her name into the air. Eyes rolling. She shoves her knee against my core, rubbing hard into me. I pulse against her as I rock into it. 

Her tongue is insistent on my nipple, moaning into it. Wetness from her mouth dripping down my flesh, her lips shiny on me. 

My stomach tightens, a stretched elastic close to snapping. My breathing picks up pace, and my sounds grow frantic. “Ellie.. Ellie.. I'm gonna..” she lifts off of my chest, hovering over me. Pushing harder against my clit she looks into my eyes, bouncing between them. Absorbing my every expression. 

“Yeah?” enthusiastic green. 

“Cum for me baby.”

Her words are my undoing and I unravel around her thigh. Hands gripping sheets, white knuckles. All I see is her. Her. My back arches as she grinds into me riding my wave of euphoria, my cunt throbbing against her. Her name rolling off my tongue, I can't say it enough.

Ellie. Ellie. Ellie.

[END OF AUDIO]

[skxllz]

➣ lip with an edgy girlfriend who wears lacey tube tops with plaid flannels overneath. thinks they look hot together, always parin’ them off with jeans or some kind of underground form of pants.

➢ lip with an edgy girlfriend who puts out her cigarettes in the little tin box she's carries in her bag. it's her own trinket holder and ashtray. comes in handy pretty often.

➣ lip who has an edgy girlfriend that often wears older makeup trends. 2000's smokey eye is cute, but 90's cat eye is cuter. debbie likes to copy her.

➢ lip who has an edgy girlfriend that draws on herself and likes to say they're tattoos because she's too afraid of getting an actual tattoo. she has a low pain tolerance with needles so tattoo needles are especially off the table.

➣ lip with an edgy girlfriend who always wears lacy brass or bras with lace trim because they're cooler and/or more fashionable. you wouldn't catch her dead in such a plain bralette.

➢ lip who's edgy girlfriend hates walking so she steals her brother's bike for him to ride. they often ride bikes together instead of taking the L because she also hates public transportation!

➣ lip who has an edgy girlfriend with kuromi themed merchandise. you can't go wrong with kuromi, and even though lip finds it childish, she just tells him to fuck off!

➢ lip with an edgy girlfriend who loves to spray paint at the skatepark. it may be vandalism, but If you don't get caught, it's just a free art space!

➣ lip with an edgy girlfriend who loves takeout. he hates spending money on food because he can't afford it, but she's always willing to surprise him with some chow mein!

➢ lip who has an edgy girlfriend that wears chunky and spiky boots. he finds the fashion statement to be slightly ridiculous, but she always makes it look super hot. of course he's going to compliment her!

➣ lip with an edgy girlfriend who curses out anyone that dares messes with her boyfriend. sometimes he can be in the wrong, but even if he is, who are you to be a dick to her man?

➢ lip with an edgy girlfriend who watches the dumbest shows. he's never heard of daria in his life!

➣ lip with an edgy girlfriend who shows affection in the weirdest ways. why is she climbing on him? or leaving little bubble wrappers with notes on them in his bag?

➢ lip who has an edgy girlfriend with separation anxiety. he can't stray from her for long periods of time unless it's to school/work/a family emergency. she'll need plenty of assurance otherwise!!

➣ lip who has an edgy girlfriend that wears beanies and floppy hats. he thinks they look cute on her and fit her style!

➢ lip with an edgy girlfriend who hates showing skin. he has to often convince her just to wear shorts because she's uncomfortable or insecure!! it's okay though, because he loves to show her just how pretty she really is!

➣ lip with an edgy girlfriend who loves dark decor. he always gets her something spooky or black themed for christmas/her birthday because she loves it!

➢ lip who's edgy girlfriend loves to wrestle. the two are always play fighting. sometimes carl even joins in!

➣ lip with an edgy girlfriend that loves amphibians/insects. there isn't a day that goes by she isn't showing off her pet snake/tarantula/lizard/moth/etc. lip is terrified!

➢ lip with an edgy girlfriend who loves him in the best ways.

[talesofesther]

don’t know how to be something you miss | ch 2

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: On a rainy day, Wednesday recalls pieces of your story together through memories, and wonders if you miss her too.

A/N: People asked for a part 2 so I'm delivering. Soft!Wednesday because I can, so I will. I have to say that reading the first part is kinda essential to understand this one. This was based around this song that was suggested by @abelvrla, and this one that was suggested by @tuboficecream. The writing process for this was so weird, I feel like I genuinely blacked out while writing it, I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing and that's what came out. So, sorry if the quality is questionable; but hopefully not.

Masterlist | Read ch 1 here

On the three-week mark, Wednesday goes looking for you.

She hates doing it; admitting that the mistake was hers. But she also hates that it took her this long to do so.

Because each day away from you feels like dying, little by little.

You resemble a ghost to her sometimes. She has glimpses of you every day yet never manages to get close enough to properly grasp you. It's unfair, because you have a hold on her; and it comes with this everlasting longing, a phantom pain in her heart that weeps in your absence.

She still wonders if it's the same for you, or if she fell alone and you don't miss her as she does you.

Wednesday considered, for a brief moment, to let it go — to bury your hoodie in the confines of her wardrobe and never look at it again and just forget about you. The Wednesday from a year ago would do just that, and call the Wednesday from today pathetic for even thinking otherwise.

But living in the past takes her nowhere. Wednesday would never forgive herself for not trying to save what you two had.

So she goes looking, and she finds you in Xavier's art shed. She knows you're there because your bike is leaning against the wall outside.

There's an instant bitterness in her mouth.

It's a gloomy day outside, fluffy clouds coming together to form what looks to be a storm. Wednesday sees it from between the trees as she walks the woods.

A year ago, the prospect of a storm would make her smile.

Not today. Rain brings back memories. And Wednesday doesn't want memories.

Taking in a deep breath, Wednesday pushes open the wooden door. You're sitting on a stool with a big canvas in front of you; there's a brush between your fingers and your tongue is poking out of your mouth as you concentrate on the image you're painting; a stroke of black paint is smudged on your cheek and Wednesday catches a glimpse of a black braid on your canvas — she really tries not to let her mind wander onto what it could be.

The door shuts close behind her with a soft click, finally drawing your attention. The shed feels too cramped for the tension hanging in the air. Breathing is a challenge already.

"Wednesday?" Xavier is the first to speak. Wednesday hadn't even noticed his presence.

"Did you need something?" He keeps going, annoyingly because he's invading her moment with you.

Wednesday doesn't look at him when she speaks, she has an unblinking stare focused on you; "I was hoping we could talk."

You lower your brush, trying to clean your cheek with the back of your hand but you only end up smudging more paint there.

It's been five seconds already and you're not talking. Wednesday takes it as a rejection. And somehow her broken heart still found a way to beat, thundering against her ears. It's almost deafening.

Wednesday bunches up the fabric on the cuffs of her jacket, her nails forming half-moons on her palms to ground herself.

"Give me a few minutes to change," your voice cut the silence and you gestured to your clothes, a little ruined with paint - you always had been a bit clumsy. "I'll find you."

There's an almost nonexistent softness to Wednesday's eyes. Because there's a barely there smile on your lips.

—

Rain is pouring down violently, the power has gone out in the whole school and now candles are the ones that illuminate Wednesday's room.

She hates the sound of the drops hitting her window and the roof above, they're loud, they bring with them the familiar cold air. It feels like loneliness, abandonment.

A knock comes from her door and Wednesday scrambles to open it. You're standing on the other side, a white and red hoodie keeping you warm because you couldn't find your favorite one.

Something about you instantly warms up the whole dorm when you walk in.

"I've been waiting for you," you tell her, keeping your hands behind your back. Ever since Wednesday snapped at you, you've been holding yourself back from reaching out, even if it hurt. If she wanted to make amends, you wanted it to be her decision.

Wednesday gulps, her gaze moving up and down your body before she has the courage to look you in the eyes. She feels out of place, maybe a little lost. She's unsure what's the next step on all this.

"I-" her words are tangled, everything she had perfectly planned is now a mess inside her mind, "I believe I owe you an apology."

You nod softly, the orange glow of the small flickering flame of the candle that rests on Wednesday's desk is reflecting against your skin. You look like her favorite dream.

"Okay," you tell her in all your tenderness, "for what?"

It's most unkind, though; Wednesday thinks to herself as she clenches her jaw. Because you know her, you know this isn't easy, yet you still want to hear her say it.

Wednesday huffs with remains of annoyance and shifts from one foot to another, she wants to reach out and hold you, bring things back to how they were. The distance feels worse now than it did when she saw you from the opposite side of the cafeteria. Maybe because you're just a step away from her, yet she doesn't feel within the right to take that step.

Thunder rumbles outside, and with it, the tight feeling weighing down on Wednesday's chest increases. She blinks once, twice. Her vision blurs over. She feels she's one word away from winning you back or losing you for good.

"I said things I didn't mean the last time we spoke."

You pursed your lips, taking half a step toward Wednesday; "you said your life was better before I showed up."

Wednesday instantly shook her head, "that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"

"That I was scared." The words roll off Wednesday's tongue before she has a chance to filter them, she closes her eyes for a beat, cringing at her own sudden vulnerability. She decides you're worth it.

"I didn't know what had happened to you that day," Wednesday tells you, tone tight, "I never-" she hesitates, and you take another step closer. One of your hands comes up to Wednesday's cheek to tuck back a loose strand of hair there. It's laughable that the small touch is almost enough to get Wednesday to crumble.

"I never cared about someone to the point of feeling like I'm being drowned to death at the mere thought of harm coming to them," she finishes in a rush. So fast that some words almost mend together into one, but you manage to understand.

It's only when your thumb brushes it away, that Wednesday realizes a tear had slipped past her defenses and was rolling down her cheek. She looks away from you then, severely embarrassed.

"Love scares you," you whisper. It's not a question, you know it's a truth.

Wednesday is as still as a corpse, the only things moving are her eyes, incapable of choosing where to focus.

"I'm not going anywhere, Wednesday," you promise, because you knew she had to hear it. Then, you finally bring the hand that was behind your back to rest between both you and her.

When Wednesday looks down, she sees you holding onto a small box. Black in its color and resting perfectly in your palm. She frowns, glancing up at you in confusion. All you do is extend the box further toward her.

Wednesday relents and takes the box from you, careful as ever. She doesn't dare breathe when she opens it.

Inside, rests a necklace. The pendant in it has the shape of a Black Dahlia.

Wednesday doesn't need you to say a word. That's what you went to get on that day.

A sob cuts its way through Wednesday's throat, and she's suddenly losing any last bits of composure she had. Tears make a steady path down her cheeks.

You had come back to her with a physical manifestation of your affections, and she called you an inconvenience.

Apologies stumble past Wednesday's lips before she can stop them.

"We're okay," you tell her in the same heartbeat, sneaking your arms around her waist and pulling her body to yours. You grip her tightly, any last remaining distance between you disappearing.

Wednesday buries herself in your embrace, feeling the cold finally seep away from her skin and be replaced with your warmth.

"I missed you," her lips brush your skin with the confession and you feel the words in your heart.

You hug her tighter; "I missed you too."

There's a soft whimper that slips Wednesday at the knowledge that she was, after all, someone worth missing.

Wednesday's cheeks are a bright shade of pink when she eventually, reluctantly pulls away from you. It gets a warm and fuzzy feeling spreading through your chest.

She's holding the necklace tightly, it makes you smile. "May I?"

You take the necklace from her hands, whispering for her to turn around and she does so without hesitation. With delicate fingers, you close it around her neck.

It's a perfect fit, the dark flower resting perfectly over her chest.

"You look beautiful," you tell her with a smile.

Wednesday brings her hand up, tracing the pendant on her necklace. It makes her feel like she's yours, and she doesn't hate it.

Raindrops are steadily trickling down the window, the flames of the candles around you give the room the most intimate of feelings. You like it when the lights are out. And while looking around, your eyes catch a glimpse of a pop of color resting on top of Wednesday's bed. You walk closer to get a better look — because there wasn't supposed to be color in her side of the room.

And there, beside Wednesday's pillow, rests the lilac hoodie you've been incessantly looking for these last weeks.

With a chuckle, you pick it up, "I've been looking everywhere for this."

"You left it here," Wednesday tells you quickly, she's not looking you in the eye and the blush of her cheeks has just increased. It's almost like you've stumbled upon a secret she didn't want you to find. "I've been meaning to return it." Her voice is as quiet as you've ever heard it, and you think it's all too adorable.

Bringing the hoodie closer to your nose, you could feel Wednesday's perfume on the fabric. Your skin fills with goosebumps upon imagining her wearing it. You walk closer to her and reach around her to drape the hoodie over her shoulders, admiring the blend of her dark braids over the lilac.

Wednesday's dark eyes drift down to your lips, it's like she can read your mind.

You tug at the hoodie, pulling her close to you. You peck her lips, "you can keep it," you whisper against her, "looks much better on you anyway."

And Wednesday kisses the words, her hands sneaking behind your neck and trapping you to her. She kisses you as if she's not sure you're real yet and is trying to convince herself through your lips.

Wednesday can hear the raindrops hitting her window but all she feels is you.

Maybe she'll learn to love the rain again; as long as you stay.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

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