#there's a donation drive going on right now too. there are donation boxes on the 1st floor they could've put it in

[calware]

someone in my dorm tried to throw away a perfectly good vacuum cleaner 😐

[thewritingrowlet]

The Second Chance, ft. Red Velvet Wendy

tags: creampie, first time

length: almost 13k

author's note: well, I guess I lied about releasing this by weekend

-

“Miss Son, may I talk to you for a bit?” Wendy’s gaze moves to look at you. “Sure—do you want to talk here, or?” You nod. “Yes, please.”

Wendy invites you to sit on the armchair next to the sofa she’s sitting on. “Can I help you?” “No, not really; I just want to say that today will be my last day with you.” She furrows her eyebrows. “Where are you going?” You grin a little. “Erm, Jiho and I are moving to Japan.” The frown on her face is quickly replaced with excitement. “Oh my God, congratulations!” Wendy hugs you from the side, kind as ever. “Thank you, Miss Son,” your cheeks are getting red, “I, erm, I’m looking forward to having a new life with her.”

Wendy pulls you onto her feet. “Let’s go buy stuff—y’know, parting gifts.” “Oh, that won’t be necessary, Miss Son,” you decline politely, “as far as I know, you’re busy today.” She puts her fists on her waist. “Are you sure you don’t want presents?” You smile. “It’s not that I don’t want them, Miss Son; it’s just that you’ve shown us so much kindness already.” She pouts for a split second before smiling again. “You’re glazing, oppa.” You burst out laughing. “And you spend too much time on social media, Miss Son.”

After the laughs die down, you walk with her towards the lobby where a chauffeur is waiting for the two of you. “Can you brief me on my schedules today?” You unlock the tablet in your hand to look at your notes. “We’ll be going to the food bank first like I said, and here it says you’ll be attending a meeting at Han Group.” “Oh, Han Group—they’re such a good bunch,” you can hear the excitement in her voice, as if impatient to go to that meeting.

-

The car stops in front of the food bank after a 30-minute drive. “We’re here, Miss Son,” the chauffeur says. Wendy stirs awake from her nap. “Oh, we are?” She pulls out a small folding mirror from her purse to look at herself. She tidies her hair to make herself look presentable. “I think I look okay.”

Wendy gets out of the car, and that’s your sign to do the same. Your heart jumps when she wraps an arm around yours—she has never done this before. “Let’s go,” she says, clueless to the fact that your cheeks are blazing hot. “Y-yes, miss.”

You open the door for her, and heads are promptly turned towards you and her. Wendy, used to attention, starts waving and smiling. “Ah, Miss Son, welcome to our house,” someone approaches the two of you—her little name tag says that her name is Han Haru. Wendy lets go of your arm to shake Haru’s hand. “I’m excited to be here, Miss Han.”

Haru asks that you and Wendy follow her to her office that’s located on the second floor, and like the proper assistant that you are, you take position behind the two women.

“Have a seat, please, Miss Son,” Haru says. Wendy sits on the chair on the other side of the desk and asks you to sit next to her. “I take it you’re here to volunteer?” Wendy nods enthusiastically. “Yes, and I’ll also be donating to your cause.”

Haru smiles. “I don’t mean to offend you at all, Miss Son, but why are you doing this—why aren’t you sitting on the top floor of some skyscraper counting your piles of bills?” Wendy smiles twice as softly. “What good is a pile of money if not used for the correct purposes, Miss Han?” Haru nods, satisfied with the answer. “Are we ready to start, then?” Wendy gets on her feet right away. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Haru gives Wendy a vest with the food bank’s logo on the back. “So, what do we do now?” “We’ll make a stop at the kitchen; the crew are working hard to prepare a ton of food, and we’ll help them box it for distribution.” “Sounds great—let’s go, then,” Wendy’s always-positive mind is admirable.

The three of you arrive at the kitchen after a short walk. Wendy’s eyes look at each person present, highly impressed and touched by their kind hearts for being willing to do such work that doesn’t pay much.

“Oppa,” she whispers to you, “can you arrange some bread for them?” You nod. “Of course, Miss Son.” You pull out your phone to text her treasurer, and after a short back-and-forth, the treasurer says that she’ll get it ready within the next hour. “She’s working on it, Miss Son,” you inform her, getting a nod as a response.

Haru points at a table that’s full of folded food containers and says that Wendy will be working on it first, and then after the food is ready, Haru and her will pack each one to the brim. “Are you also taking a part in this?” “Yes, I am―Miss Son here wouldn’t last a day without me,” you say, earning an elbow to the ribs from Wendy. “Alright, you can work with her, then—I’ll be helping somewhere else.”

You grab one folded container from the table and immediately start working on it, and since you’ve handled this sort of thing before, you know how to shape them into a ready-to-use form. Wendy, on the other hand, isn’t having as much success as you. “Oppa, slow down; let me see how you do it.” “You’ve never done this before?” “No, I—oh my God, slow down!” She airs her frustration when she sees you work on another box swiftly. “Alright, alright—here.”

You grab one more from the pile and place it on the table. “See these lines, Miss Son?” Wendy’s eyes follow your finger that’s running along the lines on the paper. “The factory put these lines here as a guide for you to fold.” “Okay, so?” You fold the paper following the lines, and after such simple steps, the box starts to take shape. You wait for Wendy to do the same things you have. You can see the fascination on her face now that she’s making progress. “Okay, okay—now what?” “Lift these little tabs and fit them into the slits, just like this.” Once again, she does the same things, and after finishing it, Wendy begins clapping in excitement—she’s clapping and jumping so much that her vest that’s just a bit too big is bouncing around. “Oh my God—oh my God, that was so cool!” “Dozens to go, Miss Son.”

You and Wendy finish shaping these boxes at a steady pace, but before the two of you manage to finish the pile, Haru announces that the food is ready to be packed. “I’ll take care of this, Miss Son; you can go help Miss Han,” you say. Without saying a word, Wendy quickly jogs towards the assembly line. You steal some glances every now and then, and in a particular instance, you see her expressions that scream “I’m overwhelmed”: her eyes are moving rapidly, her mouth is open, and her hands are shaking.

“You can stop, mister; I think we have enough boxes, and we need your help here,” Haru says from the distance. You rush towards Wendy and Haru so that you can help them. “Help us with those bags, please.” You shake paper bags upside down to fill them with air. The expanded bags can then hold the food container.

-

In her out-of-breath state, Wendy crashes onto a nearby bench. “How are we feeling, Miss Son?” She puts on a thumbs-up for you. “Amazing—I-I feel like a saint right now.” You laugh. “I mean, you kind of are at this point.” You pull out a small bottle of water from your back pocket. “Would you like some water, Miss Son?” She nods, so you crack it open and hand it over to her. “Thanks, oppa.”

You guess that she doesn’t have the energy to walk to her car, so you ask the chauffeur to come to your location. “The car is on the way, Miss Son.” Once again, she nods, still unable to stop panting.

Before long, the car pulls into the side of the road close to you. “Can you walk, Miss Son?” “Yeah, yeah—just one second, please.” While Wendy stumbles towards the car, you take the initiative to open the door for her. “Oh, that’s so nice of you, oppa—are you sure you don’t want to stay, because I can’t imagine a day without you.” You smile. “Apologies, miss, but the decision has been made.”

Once she’s inside, Wendy asks you to grab another bottle of water, so you do just that. Now that she’s in the privacy of her car, she doesn’t bother drinking neatly, letting water drip off her chin and onto her clothes. “Excuse me, Miss Son,” you wipe her chin with tissue to clean the mess. “You’re treating me like a kid,” she comments. You apologize once more. “Just trying to make sure you look okay for the meeting.” Wendy sinks into her seat. “Meeting? Really?”

Soon, the car stops in front of the Han Group building. “I’m going to fucking cry,” she says. Wendy rarely curses, only saying them when she’s in the most frustrating or annoying moments. “Remind me what I’m here for?” “Erm,” you quickly open your notes, “you’re here for a friendly visit.” Wendy looks out the window. “I’ll need you to keep your ears open, oppa—if you hear me say cake, pull me out of the meeting.” You nod. “Certainly, Miss Son.”

You get out of the car first and head towards the receptionist table. “Hello, I’m with the Son Industries,” you show the lady your employee ID card, “I’m here with Miss Son for a meeting.” “Sure, but where is she?” You point at her car that’s stopped at the lobby. “She’s still catching her breath—oh, there she is,” you see Wendy walking through the door with a smile. The receptionist reaches for the landline on her desk, and before long, she’s ready to take you to the meeting room.

The lady stops in front of a small office space on the first floor. “The boss will join you in a moment,” she says. The lady then leaves after you thank her (with a smile on your face, of course), leaving you alone with Wendy. You open the door for her. “After you, Miss Son.”

You take a seat on the empty chair next to her. Wendy lets out a hum, and when you look at her, she’s trying to roll her chair towards you. “I hope you don’t mind,” she says. “Sorry?” She doesn’t answer you, opting to show you instead by resting her head on your shoulder. “If there’s anything I can do to sway you from leaving me, let me know.” “Miss Son—” “Yeah, yeah, the decision has been made or whatever you said.”

You wrap an arm around her shoulder. “If the plan fails, I’ll come back running to you, Miss Son—well, if you’d let me, that is.” Wendy chuckles. “You’re always welcome at Son Industries, oppa.”

Through the glass pane, you see that the boss of the Han Group is approaching, so you tap Wendy’s arm to get her to straighten her posture. “Did you know that my father tried arranging a marriage for me and that guy?” You furrow your eyebrows—you never heard about such arrangement. “Mr. Han Harvey? Really?” Wendy sighs. “Well, he’s married to someone else now, so it doesn’t matter anymore—I like older guys anyway.”

“Miss Son,” Harvey greets her with a smile, “thank you for coming.” Wendy puts on her businesswoman smile. “Of course, Mr. Han; thank you for inviting me.” Harvey takes a seat on the other side of the desk. “We’ll be talking about business a little if that’s okay with you, Miss Son.” Wendy chuckles. “I was afraid you’d say that, but sure.”

-

“Thank you, Mr. Lee—I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Wendy enters her house and beelines towards the kitchen to find something to put in the microwave. She sees some leftover kimbap from yesterday when she opens the fridge. “Yeah, sure.”

Once the reheated food is in her hands, she grabs the letter you’ve written for her as a “parting gift.” “Why am I nervous about this, it’s just a letter,” Wendy questions herself. She tries clearing her mind by taking a few deep breaths first. “Alright, here goes nothing.”

“Miss Son,

I was the first person in my entire extended family to have gotten a bachelor's degree, and with only that degree in my back pocket, I mustered up the courage to apply to your father’s big-city company. Heh, I still remember how my heart raced when I received an interview invitation 10 days after I had applied.

I spent the night wondering what I should wear, since I had been told that first impressions are the most important thing when looking for a job, but at the time, I only had a few shirts of different colors and some grey and black trousers. Eventually, I decided to put on a red shirt and grey trousers since I thought that I would look good in them.

I remember walking through the big doors of the ground floor, and it might have been just me, but I thought people were looking at me weird, and believe me when I say that it killed my confidence that was nearly nonexistent to begin with.

The receptionist at the time was Miss Kim Yerim. I remember the kind smile on her face when she first greeted me. She immediately asked me if I was going to an interview, and before long, I found myself sitting in an empty room nervously, waiting for someone to enter and actually start asking me questions.

I remember calling my parents immediately after I had been told that I was accepted at your father’s company. I understand that it might sound corny or stupid to you considering what kind of job it was, but for a man with simple dreams like me, it meant the world to me, Miss Son.

Since I don’t have much space left on this page, I’ll skip some details and tell you how I felt when I was told that I’d become your personal assistant. Truthfully, Miss Son, I couldn’t sleep; I was so busy worrying about working directly under you.

It didn’t help that you weren’t in the best mood when I first met you that morning. I recall the way your sharp gaze was directly aimed at me. Honestly, it felt like there was a hole between my eyes because of it. Little did I know that behind all your charades, you’re actually a very kind person. 

Ultimately, I’d like to thank you, Miss Son. You’ve given this guy from the countryside plenty of chances to grow, both as an employee and a person, and I promise that I will never stop growing and learning wherever I am.

Miss Son, I’d like to think that this isn’t a perpetual goodbye, but rather a brief divergence. As much as I’m about to live a new life with my wife in a new land, I believe that one day I’ll find my way back to Son Industries, and whenever that may be, I hope that you keep yourself safe and well until then.

With respect and admiration,

Jin Changmin”

Tears that have been flowing freely out of Wendy’s eyes land on the letter. “Goodness me, oppa, why are you doing this to me—I-I thought we had something special.” She tries reading the letter from the top again, but her mind can’t focus. “God damn it, why, oppa?” Her weak hand lets go of the letter, thus letting it drop onto the carpet. “I-I love you, Jin Changmin—by God, I love you so, so much.” No matter how loud or how many times she says it, she doesn’t hear any answer, and it wrings her heart beyond help.

In a dangerous mix of anger and anguish, Wendy tosses the mug in front of her at the wall, shattering it into hundreds of pieces—a manifestation of her broken heart. “I-I hate you, oppa; I-I hate that you’ve left me like this.”

Wendy contemplates if she wants to burn the letter, but at the last minute, she decides against it. “Come back to me soon, oppa; I’ll be waiting for you.”

-

“Love, we’re here—we’re actually here,” Jiho tugs your hand that she’s holding, seemingly in disbelief that the two of you have reached Japan. “You’re excited, aren’t you, love?” Jiho nods. “I’m both excited and nervous, but I have you with me, so I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

You lift your hand to hail a cab for you and your wife, and the first thing you do is shove your luggage into the trunk. After getting in, you speak into the translator app, which, well, translates your words, and not long after that, the cab starts rolling. “No turning back now,” you think.

You pull Jiho closer to you. “Get some nap, love; I’ll keep an eye out for us.” She promptly yawns. “I love you,” she says softly. “I love you too,” you end your reply by giving a peck on her head.

It doesn’t take long for you to reach your destination, which is a regular 5-story apartment building not too far from the center of the city. “Love, we’re here,” you tap your wife’s arm to wake her up. She looks around with half open eyes. “Oh, okay.” While she gathers herself after her nap, you get off the cab first to take your luggage out the trunk.

Once Jiho is ready, you take her hand in yours and walk with her towards your new unit.

“Oh, this is pretty cool,” Jiho comments. “Do we have a bidet?” She jogs to the bathroom to check. “Oh, yes, we do—wow, it’s already so much better here.” Her excitement is infectious, and you can’t help but feel the same.

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, and without being asked, Jiho takes her favorite spot on your lap. “Thank you for everything, love,” she says. You peck her on the lips. “You are all I have, love.” She smiles. “And you are all I have, especially in this foreign land.”

Jiho suddenly comes in for a kiss, her hands placed neatly on your nape. “What do you say we break this place in?” “Only if you promise you won’t be too loud.” She laughs. “I can’t help it; my husband is almost too big for me.”

You fall backwards onto the bed, letting your wife take a different position. “Love, I don’t have the energy to ride you,” she says, so you let her lie on her back first before getting on top of her. “Ah, this is more like it.”

Jiho reaches for the topmost button on your shirt but stops before your last button. “Something feels odd,” she comments, “do you not want to do this?” You’ve been caught. “Sorry, I was just thinking about something else—I’ll focus on us now.” Jiho furrows her eyebrows. “You weren’t thinking about Miss Son, were you?” You weren’t, but now that she mentions it, you wonder what Miss Son is up to. “No, I wasn’t,” you deflect.

Jiho asks you to prove to her if you’re truly focused on her and only her, her words laced with jealousy. “You got it, love,” you reply.

You can feel that Jiho is quite unhappy with you, but the way she lets out a small gasp when your lips first latch on the side of her neck assures you that the situation can be salvaged as long as you perform well.

Jiho guides your hand towards her breasts, and that’s a sign to you that she’s feeling better. “T-touch me here, please.” You palm and play with her breast like she wants you to, thus earning soft moans from her. “Yes, just like that, love—just don’t think about anything else.”

You stop the stimulation on her neck when you see that there’s a decently sized pink spot on it. “You’ll need to put on a scarf when we go out tonight, love.” Jiho chuckles. “Nah, I’ll proudly show off your mark.”

You straighten your posture to undress properly, and while you do that, Jiho takes the chance to do the same. You think that she’s ready now that she’s down to her underwear, but based on her expressions, she’s not in the right mind just yet.

“Oppa,” she calls to you, “I’m feeling something, but I can’t put it into words.” You keep your eyes on her. “Is it bad?” Jiho bites her bottom lip nervously. “I-I don’t know.” You start petting her head gently. “Can you describe a little?” “I just feel… uneasy—I feel like something is looming ahead, but I don’t know what.” You put on a smile that you hope is assuring. “I understand if you’re nervous, but as long as we stick together, we will be fine, love.”

Jiho holds your hand with her soft hands. “I hope you won’t blame me when things don’t work out—I’m being serious right now.” “It wouldn’t be fair for me, love; we’re in this together, are we not?” Your respond doesn’t quite satisfy Jiho. “What would you do if things don’t work out, oppa?” “I’d take you back to Korea,” you say the first answer in your head. Jiho takes a few deep breaths. “Sounds good.”

This doesn’t feel like a good transition to sex, so you ask if she wants to continue like this. “Just… hold me for now, please,” she requests. “Of course, love.”

-

“I’m home,” you say as you enter through the door, but there’s no sign of her. Usually, she’ll rush to you as soon as she hears the door swing open, but not today. “Love, where are you?” You put down the bouquet on the living room table and start walking around the interior. Your heart rate spikes when you hear moans coming out of the bedroom. “What is she doing,” you think as your hand turns the handle.

Your heart comes to an immediate stop—she’s having sex with someone else, bouncing her butt on his lap. “What the fuck?” Jiho turns her head to look at you. “Oh, hey, there,” she waves at you casually. “What the fuck are you doing right now?” She laughs. “Why, I’m having sex—y’know, because you wouldn’t touch me.” You tilt your head so that you can look at the guy. “Who the fuck is that, even?” She shrugs. “I don’t know; I just met him last night.”

Jiho gets off the guy’s dick and makes her way towards you—you manage to catch a glimpse of his size, and he’s not even half as big as you are. “You’re mad, aren’t you?” You look at her in the eyes, trying your hardest to stay calm amidst the crazy turn of events. “I have some adjectives to describe my feelings right now.” She laughs, seemingly mocking you. “Well, should’ve not skipped touching your wife, then.”

Before you address this further, you gesture to the guy to leave because you don’t think he speaks the same language as you do. He says something when he passes you; not sure what, but the smirk on his face indicates that he probably said something dirty about you or Jiho. “Fuck you, asshole.” You punch him in the stomach, and when he bends because of the impact, you kick his butt like it was a soccer ball, officially kicking him out of your apartment.

With that guy out of the apartment, you turn your attention to your wife. “You look calm, but I can see smoke coming out of your ears.” You shove Jiho by her shoulders, thus making her fall backwards onto the bed. “Since when you turned into such a slut?” “Recently—you know, when you ignored me.” You furrow your eyebrows. “Ignored you? You said you were on period,” you argue. She laughs. “And you just believed me? You couldn’t be bothered to check with your own eyes?” You can’t believe your ears. “What was I supposed to do, pull your pants down? What if you had actually been on your period?”

Jiho makes another argument, but in your disinterested state of mind, you ignore her, opting to undress instead. “Wha-what are you doing?” “You said you wanted to be touched, didn’t you?” She gulps. “W-well, yes,” she’s starting to crack under the pressure. “W-wait, love, please listen to me.” You stop in your tracks. “What?” You can tell that her heart is racing. “Love, I-I’m sorry; I-I realized I’ve just made a fatal mistake.” You scoff. “You only said it because I caught you in action—did you enjoy it, by the way, because he was quite small,” you add a little taunt. She shakes her head, visibly scared of this side of you that she has never seen before. “I-I couldn’t even feel him, I swear!”

You quickly get on top of Jiho, her nervous, rapid breaths hitting your face endlessly. “What the fuck were you moaning for then, hm?” “Uh, uh, d-dramatic effects?” Your mind clouded by blind rage, you slap her on the cheek, thus leaving a big red mark on it. “Dramatic effects? What are you, a fucking porn star?” Jiho starts sobbing because of the sting—she’s debating whether it’s her face or her heart that’s in worse pain. “P-please, I-I didn’t enjoy it—I swear to God,” the sobs make her words sound less intelligible.

You stop for a moment. Deep inside, you’re trying so hard to regain control of your raging heart and mind. “You’re going to regret this, you know.” She nods. “I-I’m already regretting it, l-love.” You exhale deeply. “Don’t call me that.” Jiho hesitantly reaches for your face that’s hovering closely above hers. “B-but I love you; I-I really do.” You grab her wrists and slowly guide her hands off your face. “Why did you do that, then—why did you hurt me like that?” “I-I don’t know.”

You grab her ankles and fold her in half. “Do you know where this is going?” She nods. “C-claim me, my love.” You flinch a little when you hear the name. “Don’t fucking call me that, slut.” Jiho’s eyes widen in shock. “P-please don’t call me that.” “You don’t deserve love or honey, so I’m calling you a slut, and you’re going to fucking like it.”

Jiho lets out a moan when your cock suddenly enters her pussy. “M-make me yours again,” she says. She lets out another moan when the tip of your cock reaches her deepest spot. “Yes, just like that.”

You turn up the pace to the maximum that you’re able to do, using the feral flame of jealousy and anger in your heart as fuel. “Fucking slut,” you insult her, “I tried being respectful, and this is how you pay me back?” “L-love—nghk!” Her speech is interrupted due to your palm that’s choking her. “Shut the fuck up,” you growl.

You don’t know how long you’ve been fucking her like this, but one thing that’s sure is that orgasm is almost at the door. “C-cum inside a-and claim me back,” she urges. “You still dare making demands?” Jiho shakes her head. “I-I was just… s-saying—oh, fuck.”

You quickly pull out of her pussy and flip her onto her stomach. With your cock in hand, you guide it until the tip touches her rear entrance. “I should fuck you here, make it loose for anyone who comes after.” Jiho trembles. “I-I haven’t—w-we haven’t put anything in there.” You chuckle. “Is that so, because I could’ve sworn I saw that guy put his middle finger in your ass.” “Y-you saw—fuck!” You interrupt her with a smack to the butt. “I saw what?” Jiho fights through the pain. “Y-you saw wrong.”

“Close your eyes,” you command, and Jiho adheres right away; not only does she close her eyes, but she also presses her face into the bed. You hear a muffled gasp from her when your spit-coated thumb traces the shape of her forbidden hole. “You really had to wait until we’re in a foreign land to stab me in the back, huh?” “I’m sorry,” you hear a faint response from her. “I don’t know if an apology is sufficient, to be completely honest,” you say, your tone laden with sadness and disappointment. “Anyway, here I go.”

Jiho clenches her fist as she prepares to give up her virginity. “I guess this is how I die,” she thinks. Tears begin swarming out of her eyes again as the second wave of guilt crashes over her heart. “I’m so sorry, my love; I don’t know why I hurt you—you’ve been the best husband I could ever ask for.” Her body goes limp when the tip of your cock begins pushing into her. “Take me, my love; make me yours again.”

Jiho lets out a long moan when she feels you in her pussy instead of her ass. “L-love?” You pet her butt gently. “I might be angry, but I’m no degenerate.” A small smile is drawn on her face; you never do anything in bed without her consent, and even though your head is full of anger (that’s justified), the fact that you’re still firmly holding on to your principle is touching, if not admirable. “Y-yes, of course—y-you’re a great husband for me.” Jiho’s heart flutters when she sees a smile on your face, oblivious to what kind of thoughts are running rampant inside your head. “Oh, you’re so clueless, sweetheart,” you say internally.

You maintain a pace that’s rather relaxed, basking in the intimate moment of what might be the last you’ll have with her. “D-do you remember our first night?” “Before or after the wedding?” “Oh, God, b-before.” You take a quick trip to memory lane; you had sex multiple times on your first night with her, doing it in different positions, including the one you’re currently in right now. “I did,” you answer, “you also took me from behind.” She nods. “E-exactly.”

You don’t know Jiho is mentioning the past, so you ask. “I-I just wish I could go back to that night—I swear w-we were so in love.” You chuckle a bit. “And we’re no longer in love? Is that why you cheated on me?” A stray tear flows onto her cheek. “P-please, I-I know it was so wrong of me.” You close your eyes, your hips fully stopped. “Hindsight is always perfect, isn’t it?” Jiho nods again. “I-I wish—” You silence her with a soft shush. “The past is the past, and there’s nothing else that can be done right now.”

A few more thrusts and you’re ready to bust. “I’m close,” you say, your tone flat thanks to the realization that this is the end of your story. “Feel free to finish anywhere.” You lodge your cock deep inside her when you explode, sending your load right into her womb. Usually, you’d praise her as you cum, but this time, your tongue feels heavy, thus making you unable to say anything.

You pull out when you’re done spurting everything out, and some excess semen drips out of her. “Some things just don’t change,” you think.

You grab your clothes that are making a mess on the floor, putting them on one by one, and the sight makes Jiho start crying again. “W-where are you going?” “Home,” you give her a short answer. “B-but isn’t this our home?” You sigh. “Not anymore, no.”

Jiho completely breaks down. It is clear to her now that everything is doomed; she has messed up the marriage, and now, you’re leaving the relationship that has been nurtured for years. “At least clue me how I can fix this, please,” she begs. You wipe some tears off her cheeks with your thumbs, comforting her as much as you can. “You can’t, sweetheart.” Jiho flinches; you used to call her by that name when the two of you were dating. “Sometimes, sweetheart, sometimes good things fall apart, and you just can’t fix them.”

Jiho pecks the back of your hand. “I’m so sorry, my love,” she says tearily, fully in regret. You peck her on the forehead the same way you did on your first date. “Promise me that you’ll be safe and happy wherever you are.” She nods. “Y-you too, oppa.”

The way she’s sobbing as you walk away from you wrests your heart terribly, but what else is there to be done?

“The world is so damn cruel sometimes, isn’t it?”

-

“Excuse me, sir, but unless you’re waiting for a flight, you need to leave.” You rub your eyes to get yourself together. “Oh, no, I’m not waiting for a flight—I’ll leave after this,” you say. The guard gives you a little nod before walking away.

You walk out of the airport while thinking about the next course of action. You still have money that should be enough to live off for about a month. “If I can get a basement apartment, the money will last longer,” you think. Still in the theme of making sure the money lasts as long as it can, you decide to just walk towards the city instead of getting a cab.

You reach the edge of urban civilization after around a few thousand steps. There is an apartment building not too far ahead, and you hope that it has a cheap vacant unit in the basement that you can occupy.

“Good evening,” you greet the lady at the front desk, “is there a basement unit here?” Much to your delight and relief, there is. “You’re in luck; there’s only one left,” she says. “I’ll take that right now, please,” you say, not bothering to think twice. “Please have a seat while I take care of some stuff.”

It is when your butt lands on the steel bench that you start thinking about Jiho again.

“I’m letting you go, sweetheart—make sure you’re safe and happy, okay?”

The relationship started with you “stealing” her from her abusive ex-boyfriend, but even then, she had never fooled around with anyone else behind his back, so in your mind, you don’t think that she had any reason to hurt you. “I guess this is how it was meant for us,” you conclude.

The front desk lady calls your name, so you quickly approach her. “This is your contract, and if you accept, please sign down here.” You take the paper from her and start reading, carefully taking mental notes about the important points in the contract as you go. One of them says that management doesn’t cover anything if the unit happens to get drowned during a flood. “That’s quite the risk,” you think, but it’s not like you have too many options.

You read the whole contract once again to make sure you’re not missing anything, and now you’re confident enough to sign it. “It’s time to pay now, isn’t it?” The lady nods with a smile and pulls out an EDC machine, so you hand your card to her. Shortly after that, you’re told that you can enter your unit with the key in her hand. “Thank you so much.”

A small wave of sadness washes over your heart when you see the interior that only has one twin-sized mattress lying on the floor and a small wardrobe—your previous unit was fully furnished. “Round two of rags to riches, I guess.”

The first thing you do is lie down, of course. It’s been a very long day with work and Jiho, and you just want to catch your breath. “I’m just going to chill.”

-

You’ve arrived at Son Industries to look for a chance to be hired again, feeling much better now that you have clean clothes on your body. The decorations haven’t changed too much in the past year—the big sofa in the lobby has changed, though; it used to be beige, but now it’s a brown one. “Has to be Miss Son’s doing,” you think.

In terms of personnel, the person attending the front desk is no longer Mr. Bang that you were close with, and you don’t recognize this new person. Nonetheless, you muster up the courage to approach the woman. “Hello, good morning,” you greet her, “is the company open to walk-in interviews?” She blinks rapidly, a mix of confusion and startlement drawn on her face. “Erm, let me check first.”

The way the woman is scratching her temple isn’t a good sign for you; it doesn’t look like they’re currently open for people to walk in and ask to be interviewed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can accommodate you today.” You try your best to hide the sourness in your heart. “Ah, no worries; I shouldn’t have come without prior notice.” The woman asks for your contact information for future references, saying that the company will reach out to you should there be a job vacancy. Without wasting time, you write down your name, phone number, and email address on a piece of paper and hand it to her. “I can’t promise anything, though.” You nod. “No, no, it’s totally okay—thank you for the help!” You quickly part ways with her, smiling on your way out.

Your smile disappears when you reach the street again as nervousness begins filling your mind. The money you have won’t last too long at this point—you probably have around a week before you completely run out, and should that happen, you’ll be forced to live under a bridge or at a park somewhere.

You contemplate if you want to call Wendy right away but considering how long you’ve been away from her and who she is, she might have changed her number long ago. “This is a big city; surely there’s a chance for me somewhere,” you try to stay optimistic.

You take a lap around the central business district, and you happen to see a guy who’s busy sticking job vacancy pamphlets on light poles. You quickly cross the street to get to the pole and check out the pamphlet. You see that it’s from a record label startup companythat’s currently looking for both a chauffeur and a personal assistant for their newly appointed director. “Yeah, I can do that.”

You pull out your phone to check where the company is located, and you’re glad that it’s not too far away. You decide that you’re going to take the bus this time since you’ve had enough fun getting around the city on foot. Before that, though: “Mister, mister,” you chase him half running, “can I have one of that, please?” The guy nods and hands you one of the pamphlets. “Alright, thank you.”

Soon, you find yourself standing in front of an office building that’s smaller than the one Son Industries calls headquarters. Like before, you quickly enter and approach the front desk. “Excuse me, miss—I’m here for this,” you hold the pamphlet in the air for her to see. “Ah, of course,” she says, “chauffeur or assistant?” You’ve never been a chauffeur before, and as interesting as it sounds to change jobs, you’d rather play safe and become an assistant once more as you’re comfortable and confident in your experience and skills. “Assistant, please.”

The lady leaves her seat and asks you to follow her, and after a brief walk, you reach an empty room. “An interviewer will join you soon; please wait inside.” You thank her for the help and quickly settle in the room that only has some chairs and a desk. You’re experienced in being an assistant, so it’s odd that you’re nervous right now. “Man, what’s wrong with me,” you ask yourself.

Thankfully, salvation comes quickly in the form of two interviewers. “You must be our candidate,” the woman says, and you respond to her with a smile on your face. “I must say, mister, I’m quite giddy to see a candidate so soon.” You laugh a bit. “I am also quite giddy to get a job, miss.”

The two sit across the table from you. “My name is Shin Jimin, and this is Shin Sooin—can you introduce yourself a bit?” You nod. “My name is Jin Changmin, and I have decent experience under my belt after having worked for Son Industries for around 5 years.” Jimin beams. “Did you say Son Industries?” You nod again. “You know,” she starts, “I tried applying multiple times and could never make it past the interviews.” You chuckle. “Their HR could sometimes be… irritating.” The women laugh. “Sure, they are, mister.”

The interview doesn’t last too long. Because you’ve mentioned your experience working at Son Industries, which is well known in the eyes of the public, it convinces Jimin and Sooin that you’re the right hire. Also, at one point during the interview, it’s decided that the two women will start addressing you as oppa and you will address them casually from this point onwards.

“Oppa,” Sooin says, “are you free today, by any chance?” “You’re not inviting me to a date, are you,” you crack a little joke and are successful in making her laugh. “No, no, no; I’m just thinking that since you’re here, maybe you can start working for half a day—we’ll pay you accordingly, of course.” You nod. “I’m as free as it gets for an unemployed guy.”

Jimin excuses herself and has Sooin brief you on your tasks on your first (partial) day. “The director has a handful of things on his schedule today, so you’ll be following him around.” She hands you a tablet. “I didn’t see you carrying one, so use this, oppa.” You notice that it’s a newer model from the same brand you used to use when working under Wendy. “Alright, I’ll take you to the boss right now.”

Sooin takes you upstairs and knocks on the door for you. “Boss, he’s here.” “Yes, let him in, please,” you hear a woman’s voice from the other side, and the door swings open for you.

“Good—” Your speech is interrupted when you see who the boss is, your eyes wide open because of the shock. “I-is that—” “Leave us, Sooin-ah.” Sooin closes the door behind you, and you can hear her steps fading away. “I-I, erm,” you find it hard to speak right now.

The boss leaves her seat and approaches you, the sound of her heels deafening. “Hi, good morning—is it afternoon yet, actually?” You stay silent, trying your hardest to stay composed and professional. “Took you so long to get here; did you get lost in the way?” You respond by nodding. “Well, at least, you’re here now.”

The boss wraps her arms around your body, sharing her warmth with you. “Welcome back, oppa.” You garner your courage to hug her back. “M-Miss Son,” you say almost in a whisper. You hear a chuckle from her. “You still remember my name, huh?” You nod. “How can I ever forget about you?”

Wendy pulls away from the embrace, and that’s when you see her glassy eyes. “How long have you been away from me, oppa?” “A little over a year,” you answer. “That’s too long, don’t you think?” You nod slightly. “I-I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “Well, at least you’re here now.”

Wendy invites you to sit on the sofa in her office. “I feel like you have so much to tell me, but I have a lot of work today.” You take a deep breath to clear your mind. “I’m here for you, Miss Son.” She chuckles. “Yeah, and I’m not letting you go ever again, just so we’re clear.”

Wendy returns to her big director chair. “Come here, please; let’s talk about your tasks.” You quickly stand up and sit in front of her for your briefing. “Yes, Miss Son.” Wendy is getting goosebumps; she hasn’t had anyone who is as ready as you are when it comes to work, and she’s struggling to keep a straight face. “Oh my God, I’ve missed this,” she thinks.

-

“Do you mind driving?” You take the key from her and notice that it’s different. “New car, Miss Son?” She sighs. “I totaled the Genesis.” Your eyebrows furrow involuntarily. “You did what?” “Look, I was sleepy, alright—I wasn’t under any influence.” You don’t continue the subject, opting to get in the car and turn it on instead so you can take her to her destination.

You open the back seat door for her, but she declines; she says she’ll sit next to you. “I want to… y’know, be close to you.” You pretend like you don’t notice the subtle blush on her cheeks and simply help her get in the car. “Are we ready, Miss Son?” She nods, her face decorated with a smile. “Yes, we are.”

It is when you’re stopped at a red light that Wendy initiates a conversation. “Oppa, can you share a bit of your story?” You sigh heavily. “I suppose,” you start, “Jiho cheated on me, Miss Son, so I left her.” Wendy falls silent, not expecting such an answer from you. “I caught her having sex with some stranger she claimed she had met the previous night,” you pile on, and you can see on the edge of your vision that Wendy’s face has turned sour. “I’ve moved on now, so don’t worry about my performance at work.”

“She never deserved you.”

You turn your head to look at her. “Excuse me?”

“She never deserved you; I’ve always had a feeling that you were too good for her, oppa.”

You don’t know if you’re offended or not; at one point in your life, Jiho was the best partner you could’ve ever asked for, and a part of you is still hanging on to that, hoping that she’s still the same person you fell in love with, even though you’ve parted ways with her.

“Miss Son, please don’t talk about her like that.”

“Am I wrong, though?”

You exhale deeply. “Miss Son, please.”

“Ugh, fine—forget I said anything.”

“What about you, Miss Son,” you try changing the subject, “did you leave Son Industries?” “Yes and no,” she says, “I’m trying to establish a record label as a subsidiary, but I’ve left my post at Son Industries.” You nod. “I assume you’ve left your old assistant to work under the new director of Son Industries?” Wendy shakes her head. “I never hired another assistant after you left, so whoever is replacing me must bring their own right-hand.”

You see an opportunity to make a joke and lighten the mood a bit. “You learned how to be independent, didn’t you?” Wendy smacks you on the shoulder. “Just so you know, it was so damn rough; I realized I had been relying on you too much.”

-

“Miss Son, we’re here,” you tap her forearm to wake her up, and after a moment of grunting and yawning, she’s awake. “Can I ask what we’re doing here, Miss Son?” “This is—” A yawn interrupts her. “This is a dance studio, and we’re here to look at some trainees.”

You help her get out of the car, and Wendy promptly wraps an arm around yours. “Let’s go find some recruits,” she says, her voice laden with excitement.

There are a man and a woman walking out of the building to greet the two of you. “Miss Son, this way, please; the trainees are waiting for you,” the man says. “They’re skipping school, Mr. Jo?” He chuckles nervously. “Erm, sort of—they said they want to maximize their chances to be recruited, so some skipped school and some others called in sick.”

You and co. enter a practice room that’s filled with a bunch of teenage girls. They greet you repeatedly, and you make sure to reply to each one properly. Based on their sweat-drenched forehead and clothes, you can tell that they’ve been practicing a lot prior to your arrival.

“Girls, this is your future boss, Miss Wendy Son from Son Media Group.” Wendy waves at them, showing kindness so that they don’t get more nervous or scared than they already are. “Miss Son, they’ve prepared a performance for you—please kindly watch them perform.”

You take a seat in front of the girls with Wendy next to you. You notice that each trainee is wearing a name tag, so you quickly write them down on your tablet since she will likely want you to make notes based on her assessments.

Wendy starts getting excited when the song starts playing over the speakers. “She must know this song,” you guess. As time goes by, she keeps making these expressions that you don’t know the meaning of—you can tell that she’s enjoying the moment, though.

Your attention is stolen when Wendy taps your arm repeatedly. “Pay attention,” she whispers to you, so you lock in to the performance.

You push and pull me like gravity

I fall for you, every part of me

You push and pull me like gravity

Insanity

I’m losing my mind

Wendy squeezes your arm, her face bright and beaming, visibly impressed by the performance she’s watching. You look at her from the side, admiring her passion and ever-positive attitude for everything that’s in front of her. “By God, I’ve missed this, Miss Son.”

The cover soon ends, leaving Wendy in awe. You, on the other hand, are not too well-versed in music, but you still clap along with her. “I have good feelings about these girls,” she whispers to you. “I believe your judgment, Miss Son.” She pinches your arm lightly. “You’re such an enabler, aren’t you?” You chuckle. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve dragged us down a pit, is it?”

The guy running the studio asks for Wendy’s attention, but she dismisses him (gently and politely), opting to speak to the girls right away instead. “So, girls,” she begins, “how bad do you want this?” The question has the girls looking at each other in confusion, and it takes a while until one of them dares lift her hand. “I, erm, I want it so bad, miss, b-but I don’t know if I’m good enough.” Wendy smiles, kindness exuding from her face. “If I remember correctly, you did the low register during the chorus, didn’t you?” The girl nods to Wendy’s question. “I personally think you did very well, so don’t sell yourself short like that, especially if you want to debut as an idol.”

The girl looks down to hide her shy grin, and that’s when Wendy shifts her attention to the rest of the trainees. She asks each girl a simple question, nodding to their answers no matter how good or bad they are. “You all need PR training,” she makes a little joke and is met with nervous laughter. “Anyway,” Wendy leaves her seat, “I’ll get going now; I have some other places I need to visit, and I’ll be in touch very soon.”

It's starting to rain quite heavily when you step outside the studio. “C’mon, quick,” Wendy rushes towards the car, so you quickly follow her. “Where do we go now, Miss Son?” “I wanted to grab something to eat, but I guess not—let’s head back to the office for now.”

The rain gets even heavier as you drive through the city, water hitting the roof of your car like punches from the grey skies. “Rain sounds scary sometimes, doesn’t it?” You sigh nervously. “It doesn’t help that I live in an underground apartment.” Wendy furrows her eyebrows. “You do? Why?” “Because I wanted to save money,” you answer plainly. “Yeah, well, you’re going to leave that apartment after this.”

The radio stops its usual broadcast to make room for an emergency announcement. It says that residents should watch out for flash floods considering the suddenness and volume of the rain. You inhale and exhale deeply as you try to stay focused. “I can hear that, you know.” You don’t respond, too busy trying to keep calm and collected. “Oppa, did you hear me?” “Oh, yeah, yeah,” you blurt, “just a bit, erm, nervous.”

Wendy looks at you from the side. “What valuables do you keep at your apartment?” You list the items for her: your passport, cash, important documents, and lastly but definitely as important, clothes. You’d have nothing to wear if they were damaged by a flood, and that would be bad on its own. “Let’s go save your stuff.” “You don’t mind taking a detour?” You ask to make sure, and your assurance comes in the form of her insisting. “Yeah, okay.”

Instead of going straight at the intersection, you make a right turn to head to your apartment. “Don’t kill us,” Wendy warns, getting nervous just by the way you’re zipping through traffic. “Don’t worry, Miss Son,” you assure her. Wendy tightens her grip on the grab handle, not convinced with your words.

You stop on the side of the road and jump out of the car right after it’s stopped. “Oppa, wait!” You hear her, but you ignore her; your mind is focused on saving your valuables from your underground apartment that’s about to drown.

You get nervous when you reach the underground floor that is filled with water as high as your calves. “Oh, hell, no.” You step through the water and stop in front of your unit. After fishing the key out of your back pocket, you push the door open, fighting the force of nature.

The wardrobe is your first destination. You keep your clothes on the top shelves, so they’re not wet in the slightest. “Just grab what you can!” You’re surprised to see that Wendy is also down here with you. “This first!” You pass a small laptop bag that’s full of personal documents over to her before grabbing your clothes and pants. “Let’s get out,” she urges, so you follow her back upstairs to street level.

You shove your belongings into the second row of the car, not worrying about whether the clothes are wrinkled or not; the fact that they’re not drowned is good enough for you. “Goodness me,” Wendy says breathily, “say, how long have you been living there?” “A-about a year,” you reply just as breathily. “You’re not going to live in such a place ever again.” You nod. “I hope so.”

You stay in the car with Wendy until the pants stop. “Drive,” she says. “Where to?” “Just fucking drive, will you?” She doesn’t use profanities very often, and truthfully, you’re surprised and concerned, but that doesn’t stop you from following her orders. “Of course.”

Wendy pulls out her phone and gets on a call with someone. “It’s time—prepare the haven,” she says. The person on the other side of the call must know what to do as the call takes but a few seconds. Oddly enough, you hear the person congratulate Wendy right before she hangs up. “The haven, Miss Son?” She lets out a deep exhale. “You heard me,” she says, “now follow this route.” You see that the car’s head unit has been updated; you’re currently 21 minutes away from your destination. “Yes, Miss Son.”

-

The GPS says that your destination is on your left, and when you look out the window, it’s a typical high-rise apartment building. “We’re here, Miss Son” you notify her. “Yeah, I can see that,” she replies uncharacteristically. “Let’s get out.” She grabs an umbrella from the glovebox and hands it to you, so like a proper chauffeur, you step out of the car and hold the black umbrella for her outside of her door. “

You walk with her into the building, only putting down the umbrella when you’re covered by the big canopy. “Miss Son,” a woman at the front desk greets her, “the haven is ready for use.” Wendy simply puts up a thumb and walks fast towards the elevator, and you make sure that you’re following closely behind her.

Instead of pressing a button to head to a certain level, Wendy places her thumb on the little scanner. “Miss Son, would you kindly elaborate?” She glares at you. “Just shut the fuck up, please.” You gulp to swallow the unease that’s stuck in your throat. “Y-yes, madam.” You keep an eye on the level indicator above the elevator doors as it takes you upstairs beyond the listed floors.

The doors soon slide open, and you find yourself standing in front of a brown door. You want to ask what all of this means, but before you can open your mouth, you’re reminded that she has told you to “shut the fuck up” a minute ago. “Follow me,” she says, so you do just that. Once again, she places her thumb on the scanner below the door handle, and you hear the door unlock. “Follow me,” she says once more as she pushes the door open.

You involuntarily let out a wow; in front of your eyes is a big, fancy penthouse that has everything anyone could possibly need. A full-size kitchen, check; a living room with big sofas and a wallpaper TV, check; a chandelier that costs more than your net worth, check.

“Erm, Miss Son, if I may?” Wendy shakes her head. “Take a seat first,” she says, so you sit down on one of the big armchairs. Once the two of you are ready to talk, you initiate a conversation again. “Miss Son, what is this place, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She smiles a little.

“This is our home.”

You want to shove your fist into your ears and expand them just so you can be sure that you didn’t hear her wrong.

“Pardon me?”

“This is our home, oppa; this is the haven I spoke about.”

You blink, and blink, and blink, and blink—you’re highly unsure if you’re understanding this correctly.

“W-what do you mean this is our home?”

Wendy leaves her seat, opting to make herself comfortable on your lap instead. “From this hour, this minute, and this second, you belong to me, and I belong to you.” “M-Miss Son—” “You’re not tied to that Jiho bitch anymore, but we are tied together.” “M-Miss Son, I—”

A hard slap lands square on your cheek, the sound of the impact echoing throughout the penthouse. “I-I hate—” Wendy starts breaking down. “I-I hate that you left this country f-for that good-for-nothing bitch; I-I hate that you fucking left me, oppa.” You instinctively run your hand along her back softly the same way you used to do it with Jiho whenever she was feeling terrible. “Y-you could’ve stayed here, oppa—fuck, you could’ve married me instead.”

You take a few deep breaths to clear your mind and get a grip on the situation. “Wendy,” you say in a very, very soft tone, “what are you talking about right now?” Still unable to stop crying, Wendy presses her face onto your chest, possibly soaking your only white shirt with her tears. “I-I love you, oppa—I’ve loved you for as long as I’ve known you, b-but… but you loved her.”

You pull her into a tight hug while tears continue to flow out her eyes, and it’s getting really hard to stay solid. You keep rubbing her back mindlessly because your mind is busy imagining what things could’ve been like had you understood her feelings—you could’ve saved yourself from the heartbreak that was catching Jiho cheating.

Wendy lets out a gasp when you lift her by her thighs. “W-what are you doing?” “We’re going to talk, but we’ll get comfortable first.” She hides her face in your chest again after getting an answer. “Okay.”

You let out a chuckle when you see the insides of the bedroom. “I forget how rich you are sometimes.” You hear a small chuckle from the woman in your arms. “I wanted a proper space for us.” “Oh, it’s proper, alright.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, and you swear Wendy just let out a purr. “Are you comfortable, love?” She shifts around to make sure she’s as close as she can be to you; her hands are on your nape, and her legs that are locked around your body complete the embrace. “Yes, I am.” “Great,” you reply, “well, here I go.”

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling in love with you

Confusion is drawn clearly on Wendy’s face, not expecting in the slightest that you’ll sing for her. “What the hell,” she mouths inaudibly.

Shall I stay

Would it be a sin

If I can’t help

Falling in love with you

“Continue,” she mouths once again.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

You pause for a moment; to prepare for the next part of the song, you take her hands in yours to capture the emotions.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can’t help

Falling in love with you

“Goodness me,” Wendy wipes her tears with a smile on her face, “I-I didn’t know you could sing this well.” You chuckle a little. “That’s the only song I can sing.” She laughs. “I fear the man who has practiced one kick ten thousand times, or so they say,” she replies.

Wendy looks at you with a beautiful smile drawn on her face. “Yes, love?” She points at something over her shoulder. “You see that?” You look at what her thumb is pointed at—it’s a mug with random gold seams all over it. “What about it?” “I destroyed that mug after reading your letter, so I sent it to a kintsugi artist and had it repaired.”

You sigh. “Did I hurt you with that letter?” She nods. “It hurt so bad, you know.” You apologize, but she declines. “You promised you’d return, and now you’re here, so it’s all good.” Your gaze lands on the mug with gold stripes again, a manifestation of her mended heart. “I’m here to stay, love, and I hope you are too.” Wendy gives you a peck on the side of your neck. “This is what I’ve been hoping for; I’m not letting this go easily.”

The two of you keep your gazes locked on each other’s. “Help,” she says, “I need a segue.” You chuckle. “Segue to what, love?” “To you taking my flower.” Your eyebrows rise. “Your… flower?” She pinches your cheek. “Don’t play dumb; you know what I’m talking about.” You gently guide her hand off your face. “I just didn’t know you’ve never done it before.” Wendy shrugs. “You never asked, so I never said anything.” You take your turn to pinch her cheek. “You’re my boss—how could I ever ask about such a thing, hm?” A fleeting kiss lands on your lips. “I’m no longer your boss, oppa; from today, you’re my, erm, boyfriend.” You notice the way her cheeks are turning red. “I don’t mean to rush, but I have a feeling that we’ll be more than that.” A sheepish smile appears on her face. “I-I’ll hold you to that.”

You help Wendy lie down in the middle of this huge bed. “Oppa,” she calls to you, “you’re mine, aren’t you?” You answer her by pecking her on the lips. “But I want to hear you say it.” You smile. “My heart belongs to you, but legally, I’m still married to Jiho.” Her face turns sour. “I don’t want to hear that name.” You slap yourself internally for being careless with your words. “Sorry, love,” you clear your throat, “yes, I’m yours.”

Her face is adorned with a beautiful smile.

“Then take me.”

You reach for the first button on her shirt, and that’s when you notice her fast breaths. “You’re nervous, aren’t you, love?” She nods wordlessly. “I promise I’ll be nice and gentle,” you assure her. Wendy holds your wrists as a gesture of calling a timeout. “Y-you’ll be my first and my last, so please take care of me.” You assure her once more that you’ll prioritize her over yourself before continuing to undo her buttons.

The sight of Wendy’s partially naked being has you breathing rapidly. “You look very good, love” you praise her. She looks away to hide her shyness. “I-I try to stay in good shape—y’know, just in case.” You see an opportunity to mess with her a bit. “Just in case what, sweetheart? Just in case you want to do it with some rich executive?” Wendy lets out a gasp, seemingly offended. “I’m not cheap,” she says. “I know, sweetheart; I was just messing with you.”

The last button of her one-piece dress is finally undone. “Help me take it off, oppa,” she says, so you hold the end of the dress and lift upwards until she’s free. Wendy instinctively covers her breasts and crotch, not used to being exposed in front of a man. “You’ve really never done this before, have you?” She shakes her head, her cheeks painted bright red. “T-this is embarrassing.” You gently pull her arms away and set them on the bed. “You have nothing to be embarrassed for, love.” Wendy still avoids eye contact. “I-i-it’s your turn to u-undress.”

You swiftly take off your shirt, opting to just pull it over your head instead of spending too much time undoing the buttons.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Her gaze slowly shifts to meet yours. “Y-yes?” “Do you want to take off my pants?” Wendy looks at you nervously. “Erm, I don’t know—should I?” You say that she should only do it if she wants to. Wendy says she wants to try, so you guide her hands towards your belt. “Don’t worry, I’ll cooperate,” you say.

Wendy undoes your belt and follows it up by sliding your zipper downwards. It so happens that the back of her hand touches the underside of your hard-but-constrained cock. “Oh, that’s… erm, hard.” Her candid comment forces a laugh out of you. “And it’s all yours, love.”

You take off your pants so that Wendy has access to your boxers, and without thinking too much, she pulls them down. “Oh my God,” she exclaims, “t-that looks like it’s going to hurt.” You nod. “It will, but we’ll get through it together, love.”

You ask if you can take off Wendy’s panties, and only when you’re given permission that you slide them off. “I-I’ll shave for you next time.” “Oh, don’t worry about it; you’re pretty like this.” “What are you—oh, God, fuck!” Wendy grips the sheets in shock when your finger lands on her nub. “Next time, tell me what you’re about to do, okay?” You chuckle. “Sorry, I forgot you’re inexperienced.”

You make sure you’re right on top of Wendy, shifting here and there to get comfortable. “Love,” you call to her, “are you—” “Yes, I’m ready.” The way she answers before you finish asking tells you that not only is she ready, but she is also eager. “Alright, let’s do it, then.”

Wendy inhales sharply when the tip of your cock touches her sealed entrance. “Wait, wait, wait,” she panics, “c-can I be on top?” From experience, you know that it’s better for a woman to be on top first since she’ll be able to go at it at her own pace. “Of course, love.”

You swap positions with her, lying down on the bed to give her the chance to ride you, and Wendy immediately moves to sit on your lap. “Be careful, love.” She simply nods to your advice as her eyes are locked on your cock that’s pointed straight at the ceiling. “That’s definitely not intimidating at all—that’s a source of pleasure,” she consoles herself.

Wendy plants her hands on your stomach as she aims your cock at her entrance. Her hips slowly descend until the tip pokes her innocence. “T-that’s good, right?” You nod. “You’re alright, baby; take your time.”

Wendy grits her teeth as her pussy is getting stretched by a penis for the very first time. You place your hands on her hips, ready to guide her should she need it. “You’re alright, love,” you repeat. Fueled by your encouragement, she continues making her way down.

“Fuck!”

A curse flies out of her lips, and when you look down, there’s blood dripping down your shaft—dear God, she’s so, so tight, too. Up top, tears are dropping down her plump cheeks, visibly in pain and discomfort. “It hurts, it hurts,” she repeats with shaky voice. “My love, my love,” you call to her, “let me hold you, please.” Wendy lies down on your body, and the sobs become clearer for you to hear. “You’re okay, love; you’re doing so, so well right now.” She nods, her cheek rubbing against yours. “Y-you’re my first, oppa.” You peck her on the cheek. “And you’re my last, my love.”

You’ve been letting Wendy stay in your arms for the past few minutes. “Does it still hurt?” You hear a sniffle from her. “N-not really,” she says, “I-I think it’s starting to feel better.” You try moving your hips upwards, and it relieves you when she lets out a moan. “Was that good?” “Yes,” she replies. You thrust upwards once again, and Wendy lets out another moan. “I-I’m so full, oppa.” It’s a simple comment made in the heat of the moment, but nonetheless, it bloats your ego as proven by your little smirk. “I’m glad I can satisfy you, love.”

You maintain this relaxed pace, your ears filled with her soft moans. “That’s good, isn’t it, love?” “I-it is,” she says. “Do you think you can move by yourself?” “M-maybe.” You help Wendy straighten her posture, and the first thing she looks at is the way you and her are connected. “S-so much blood,” she comments. Your hand reaches towards her face, stroking her cheek softly. “I’m honored to be your first, love.” Wendy smiles amidst the discomfort that’s gradually becoming tolerable. “And I’m happy that you’re my first, because I love you so much.”

With her palms planted on your stomach, Wendy lifts her butt before dropping down again. “Oh, fuck, so big,” she blurts. It is when she picks up the pace that you let go of the controls, letting your head sink into the big pillow. “You’re so tight, love,” you say with your eyes closed, your eyelids too heavy to open. “M-must be the kegel,” she replies. You chuckle. “Perhaps.”

It appears that Wendy has gotten used to having a cock in her judging by how assertive she is now. One thing, though: she looks to be tired and out of breath. You ask if she wants to change position, and she immediately says yes. “Lie down, sweetheart; let me take over.”

With her lying down, you’re now able to look at her freshly deflowered pussy; there’s blood everywhere—some of it even splattered on the insides of her thighs. “I wasn’t even Jiho’s first,” you think. You quickly throw that thought away; this is the least appropriate time to think about anyone else but Wendy.

 You take position between her legs, your face hovering closely over hers. “Hi, oppa,” she greets you with a smile. “Hi to you too, my love—having a good time?” She laughs. “I am, now that it doesn’t hurt too much.” You give her a peck on the lips. “Shall we keep going?” She nods, and you waste little time to enter her pussy again. “Oh, yes, just like that.”

Now that you’re on top, you’re able to kiss her as your cock moves in and out of her tightness. “I love you, Wendy.” She shakes her head. “W-Wendy is for work—to you, I’m Seungwan-ie.” As far as you know, there are only a handful of people who have the right to call her by that name, and you’re honored to be one of them. “Of course, love.”

You’ve been maintaining this tempo for a solid period of time, and you can sense that your orgasm is approaching fast. “Love, I won’t last long,” you announce. Wendy responds by nodding. “Make me yours, oppa.” You ask if you can turn up the speed on this final stretch, and Wendy gives you permission to do so.

With every thrust she’s taking, Wendy lets out moans that are like music to your ears. “I love you so much,” you say. “I-I love you too,” she replies. You can feel yourself throbbing in her pussy, so you announce once more that you’re about to finish. “Y-yes, g-give it to me,” she urges.

Right before you start spurting semen into her, you come in for a kiss, aiming to maximize the feelings aspect on her first time. You let out a small grunt into the kiss as semen begins flowing out of your cock and into her pussy. On the other hand, Wendy lets out a long moan. “S-so warm,” she comments. Once every last drop of your cum leaves your cock, you gently pull out of her.

-

You fell asleep at one point during the cuddle, only waking up because Wendy kept tapping your arm. “Was it that good that you fell asleep?” You chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone like that.” Wendy giggles. “You really enjoyed taking my flower, huh?” You give her a peck on the cheek. “Of course.”

You ask if Wendy wants to get cleaned up, and since she says yes, you take her in your arms so that you can help her clean up in the bathroom.

“Where’s the bathroom, by the way?” She points at a closed door next to the bed. “Oh, I thought that was a walk-in closet or something like that.” She slaps you on the chest. “What closet have you seen has a mat in front of it?” You shrug. “I mean, I wouldn’t know, would I?”

You help her take a seat on the toilet since she says she wants to pee. Wendy’s face contorts as she pees, visibly in discomfort. “That hurts, doesn’t it, baby?” She sighs. “It feels weird—it’s like there’s a big hole between my legs.” You offer her some assurance, adding touches for good measure. “Thank you, oppa, seriously.” You put on a gentle smile. “Thank you to you as well, love.”

You guide her towards the shower to continue the process. You take some water in your hand and rub her pussy softly, thus getting some blood on your hand. “That will stop soon, right?” You can hear the concern in her voice. “Yes, it will—don’t worry, though; I’m with you every step of the way.”

You continue to the next step, which is to help her take a bath. “Turn around and place your hands on the wall, please.” Wendy does as you ask, and when you’re busy getting liquid soap on your hands, she teases you by hitting your cock with her butt. “I want to take you like this next time, oppa,” she already has plans for the next session. You laugh. “We’ll see what we can do, love.”

-

You’re lying on your back in this comfortable bed with Wendy in your arms, hugging you from the side. “What is in that head of yours, oppa?” You quickly assemble an answer for her. “To say that I’m happy is a huge understatement, but I am indeed happy.” Wendy gives you a peck on the side of your neck. “If only I could string together words to express my feelings,” she replies. You peck her on the top of her head. “You don’t have to, love; I can feel your love just like this.”

Wendy asks if you can describe what her love feels like. “I don’t care if this sounds cheesy, but it feels like warm sunlight in the morning; it’s so comforting, and it tells you that everything is going to be okay.” She giggles. “Everything is indeed going to be okay, oppa; we’re going to conquer the world together.”

You spoon her when she turns around. “Look at the moon, oppa” she points out the window. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it—imagine sitting in the riverside under this moon.” She sighs deeply. “I haven’t had time to enjoy life, and now that you’re here with me, I think this is a good time to start.” You rub her belly softly. “We’re going to have a good life together, love, so God help me.”

Wendy turns her head to look at you. “Hey, uh, can we do another round?” You burst out laughing. “Yes, but let’s rest for now; you just had your first time.” She pouts. “But I want to do it again.”

You make use of the fact that the two of you are completely naked and plunge into her from behind, thus earning a moan from her. “Oh, yeah, just like that, oppa.” You thrust into her once and get another moan. “Keep going, please,” she urges. “Round two, then?” She nods enthusiastically. “After this, we’re going to do another round.” You chuckle. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, baby.”

[euphoria-looney]

This au makes my eyes watery, good job with the fic author🤩, this I can't help but be unsatisfied with the batfam, like imagine an au where (name) died brutally, like it was their birthday too. Ughhhhh pls author can you make this a fic???

👾🍑Anon

"When our hands grew cold, we just froze up~... I'm closing my eyes right now, I'm rewinding you again." Rewind by Wonder Girls.

(sorry the title is so long. I'm in love with the song.)

So Much More.

Special

Divider creds: @dollywons and @aquazero

“You made it just in time [name]” the salesgirl, Sherry, also business owner of the bakery cheered.

“Sorry, I know you have a date. I'll make this quick.”

The bakery was [name] 's favorite place since they had learned how to drive and even now when they have become famous, they make sure to drop by at least once a month making sure to give lots of cash into this place.

It held significance to them. Their comfort place.

Here they could do any assignments in peace, once when they were so nervous to play a piece at their concert Sherry had allowed them to practice at the cafe, it brought in a bunch of customers, and it gave them an ego boost certainly.

The glass cover that displayed all the sweets, Sherry, who would take in a personal request for cakes, whether that be a marriage cake, a gender reveal cake, or a birthday cake, she would do it.

Today would be a birthday cake.

The birthday person is getting it for themselves.

“Don’t fret that sugarplum. I wanted to stay just to give it to yah’ alrighty, here you go!” 

Handing over the cake that was in its plastic-designed box, it would be a surprise what the cake would look like and the flavor would be (f/f) Sherry knew them too well to make any other flavor.

“You didn’t bring anyone with you to keep you safe?”

I shook my head

“I wanted to celebrate it alone, not force my staff to celebrate it with me.” Sherry sighed, shaking her head.

“Well, I stayed behind to give you this cake and also say, happy birthday [name]” Sherry held her warm hands over their cold ones before letting them go.

“Thank you, Sherry.”

“Stay safe, [name]”

“You as well.”

Going on their phone they realized they had to run to the convenience store to grab some milk as they had run out of it the other day, and cake doesn’t taste as good without some milk, what they also didn’t expect was an armed robbery taking place at said grocery store.

It also didn’t help that Joker decided to attack not too far away.

Tonight would be a shit show.

They didn’t know what happened. One second they held their cake with one hand moving it so they could arrange where their grocery would go and the next thing they knew bullets lodged into them.

The cake splattered on the ground, comically, the top was intact with the words. 

“Happy Birthday, My Angel!” The top part is designed with frosted flowers. Then at the bottom part another message “The Spectacular [name]’s 23rd Birthday!!!”

‘Damn, Sherry did a good job with this one… it’s so pretty.’ [name] could only think in their head.

“Holy shit, you got them! Hurry, make sure they’re dead, and take the car, it's worth a good couple of bucks, no?” One of the robbers giggled and seemed feminine.

[name] could only stay on the ground feeling a leg kick their body flipping it over.

“Umm, just to be cautious, put a couple more in them.”

Three teens, two boys and one girl no older than 17(?) did said action.

Too bad they didn’t hit any major organs so [name] was left to bleed out, moderately fast, but still conscious.

They at least planned a will, it wasn’t something they imagined would happen.

Profits are split equally among their staff and handing over their business to Astro and Penny to cooperate. And they’re 100% sure nobody would want their dead body. And a bunch of donations to the Bakery, orphanages, shelters, and a personal share to Sherry.

“Hey, what’s with this car, fingerprint to start?!”

“Damn it, come on! Nightwing and Robin are coming over here!”

“I thought the Joker was distracting them!”

"We took too long, idiot! Crap the cops in front of us!”

“Put your hands in the air!”

“Search the area,” Nightwing told Robin.

“I was already doing that.” Robin sassed back.

“Holy shit! [name]?!” Nightwing spotted their body lying there.

“Hey! Hey! Stay with me!” He gently shook them.

“Stop that… you’ll make it worse.” They weakly shoved him, rasping out their words.

“What happened?!” Nightwing was afraid, afraid for his sibling, the one that had left the house 5 years ago, the sibling he’d never hang out with.

“You got to press on the wound to stop the bleeding…” They choked up before spitting out blood. It stuck on their chin, eyes slowly blinking.

They wanted to laugh. Maybe this is what frogs feel like blinking.

“I know that! Stop talking!” He squeezed them tighter, hoping to stop the blood by a bit. The sound and the pain made [name] wince though.

“Shit, I’m sorry, big brother is so sorry for yelling at you, I’m so sorry for everything, just hold on, please just hold on” 

[name] was going into a hysterical state at this moment. What are you sorry for? As a vigilante not being able to save a civilian? Or is it the years of neglect? 

“Did you find something?” Robin came over, only to be shocked himself.

“[name]-!”

“Don’t just stand there! Call for backup! Someone! Anyone!” Nightwing yelled.

“Don’t worry, I’m right here… I’ve got you.” Nightwing kept muttering to them, holding them close but… god, it wouldn’t stop flowing out. 

The blood.

“Hey, Dick?” That caught Nightwing- otherwise your big brother Dick off guard, you knew his identity?

“How-“

“I don’t wanna die…”

He froze suddenly feeling their body shake as their hot tear slipped out of their eye and onto his shoulder.

“Don’t say that, you won’t, I wouldn’t allow that…” 

Their sniffles were never-ending as they used whatever strength they had to grip his back.

“I want my mama…” they cried rubbing their head on his shoulder.

Dick could also feel tears well up in his eyes.

This isn’t how he thought he’d meet you again, but did he ever think he was going to meet you again?

He promised after this he’d never leave you alone.

All those years you’d chased after him why didn’t he try to also put in effort?

“… could you do me a favor?” They suddenly asked.

“Anything.” He answered immediately.

“Could you sing me happy birthday’?” They started taking short, shallow breaths.

Dick trembled before looking over to see the nicely decorated cake.

“Happy birthday to you~” he starts

“Happy birth-“ their hands start to drop.

“[name]!-“

“Keep going… keep going even when my hands drop, until you finish.” They clutch onto him, lower now, but they still gave him comfort even at this moment.

"Alright, alright." He nodded. "Don't think of anything, don't say anything, not even a word. Just give me a smile, " he asked in return.

They complied. Even in this abnormal situation they still wanted to celebrate their stupid birthday.

“Happy birthday, dear [name]~” he could hear himself hiccuping from crying.

“Happy birthday to you…”

“Again.” They demanded, little tears still coming out.

And like they commanded he obeyed, he kept singing to them even when their hand finally fell and their breathing stopped.

Even when they felt cold as a corpse.

He kept singing.

Hugging them tightly, no matter how limp they seem to be.

"Hey Dick, anything important tomorrow?" A small [name] appeared tugged on his shirt.

"Yeah sorry [name], Damian asked me to do something with him before you did, you understand right? You're older and Damian- he's been through a lot, hm?" Dick ruffled their hair.

"But it's-"

"Sorry, I have to leave now!" News broke out that another villain caused a ruckus in this city.

[name] could only rub their arm with their other arms, tears streaming down their face, as they could only sniffle.

"But... it's my Birthday..." They whispered to themselves seeing the retreating figure of Dick fade away.

—

It wasn’t even an argument that losing one of his children once was painful, so when Jason returned from the dead it only solidified his promise to himself that he’d never let another one of his kids perish.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one notified of what was occurring by Damian but everyone was.

When they showed up at the scene with medical equipment, it was too late.

Instead, stumbling into a Nightwing holding onto [name] 's corpse singing Happy Birthday to them.

—

At least they had a body to hold a funeral for this time around.

They ordered a glass coffin to preserve their body in.

Of course, out of common courtesy, they invited the people close to them.

The door to the reception slammed open.

(Why am I imagining the scenes in Miraculous with Adrien’s dead mom, ykw? Imagine [name]’s funeral exactly like that, the batfam are rich for a reason.)

“How dare you think you guys have any right near their body!?” In storms Penelope, and Astro also came in.

Penelope, a doctor at the highest medical institute known worldwide, approached the mourning family.

Astro had a cold look following behind.

Penelope took Bruce’s collar gripping onto him with pure rage.

“You guys want to play the part of the loving family now?! How about when they needed it?! Huh?!” 

Astro placed a bouquet below [name]’s coffin giving a prayer before putting a hand on Penelope's shoulder.

“That’s enough, pray respect to [name], there’s no point arguing with them. You should know but now with what [name] tells us, they’ve never cared.”

She scoffed before shoving Bruce away and patting herself off.

“That’s a lie! We did care for them.” [M/D] called after them right when they were walking out.

“Says the woman who kept pushing her delusional self onto [name], what? Were you trying to replace their real mother? Look at all that jewelry and that veil. Please, what is this fashion show for you?” Penny had to get held back by Astro.

“Show some respect! Be lucky we even invited you!” Damian retorted.

“Enough! This is a funeral, not your drama show.” Duke butted in, distressed by the situation, he didn’t know [name] too well but it’s not his fault… he didn’t even know you existed.

With that the silence ensued and everyone stayed to respect [name].

Here lies, [name], they did more than expected of anyone. From donating to building connections, there was so much more they could’ve done in their life. Wasted at the mere age of barely 23 years old.

Isn’t funny they died on the one day they were always alone on their birthday? Now everyone was there. Not to celebrate though.

May they rest in peace,

[name] [last name].

Penelope is 067 in my crossover fic and y'all know Astro and Sherry are the shopkeepers as well so yeah they exist in this au.

Halfway through I realized that I hadn't introduced Penelope in the other fic so... oops.

Also if the ending seems rushed or ass, don't mind it. ❤

Anyway hopefully the person who wrote this request sees this and everyone else too but just in case here is the taglist and anon 👾🍑, I hope you see this!

@cozmie @nxdxsworld @overcaffeinatedfreak @strwberryglass @leiiasurez @randomlyappearingartist @sirenetheblogger @a-lurking-fae @darktrashpoetry @frankie-moon3 @mynameisnotlaura @blackcat2270

[yearsbecomingcool]

where did the party go? | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | simon kalivoda x f!reader

synopsis | your best friend invites you to a party & simon teaches you how to take a shot.

warnings | underage drinking, driving after one shot, slight sexual references, innocent!reader, f!reader, possibly ooc!simon, reader is described as being shorter than simon.

word count | 2.8k

a/n | i am so awful at taking shots so reader is very me coded in this. i kept having thoughts of someone teaching met to take a shot like this and it felt kind of simon coded so that's where this came from. debating on writing for some of Fred's other character but haven't fully decided on who yet!! if y'all have any requests/suggestions my ask box is open!! also thank you to everyone for all the support on call me, beep me!! it means so much to get so much feedback :D

“Why the fuck is this impossible?!” You groan, throwing yet another dress to the floor, that’s the fourth one in the last twenty minutes. You’re standing in a pile of dresses and skirts you’ve all deemed too ugly to wear out tonight. Your friend, Aubrey, pokes her head into the closet and gives you a small smile. 

“You need some help babe?” She asks, pulling the door open a little bit further. She convinced you to finally try going out to a party with her.

She had sat down at lunch with a huge smile on her face, “Have I got a proposition for you!” Her tone worried you, she sounded a little too excited. 

You groan and look up from your shitty school lunch, “What is it this time?” 

“Don’t look so upset, I haven’t even told you yet! Anyway, Taylor Owens’ parents are gonna be out of town this weekend so she’s throwing a party tonight and don’t give me that look!” You’re glaring, you hate parties and Aubrey is well aware of that.

“Your little crush is gonna be there, he got off for the night to deal, he’ll definitely be making way more than whatever Grab & Bag pays him,” Aubrey explains, picking up a soggy fry from her tray. 

“Aubrey, I don't know. I’m really not a party person, you know that,” you sigh.

“You should go to just this one and if you hate it you never have to go to any ever again, pinky promise,” she smiles, holding her pinky out to you. 

You weigh your options, you hate crowds and all things loud, besides concerts for some reason…you’re not sure how to explain that but that's another problem for another time. But, if you go Simon will be there and you might finally be able to talk to him. You’ve been watching him from afar like a lovesick puppy for way too long now, if you don’t make a move tonight it’s possible that you never will. You sigh and wrap your pinky around hers in agreement. 

“Ohh hell yes, I’m coming to your place to help you pick what to wear. I love you too much to let you show up in a skirt that goes past your knees.”

“I hate everything I own right now,” you say bluntly, looking at Aubrey with a defeated look on your face. “Can’t I wear like, jeans or something?” 

“A skirt is easier to take off,” Aubrey jokes, laughing hard at the sight of your eyes widening at her words. “C’mon, give Simon something to look at that he hasn’t already seen. I know you’ve got something short and cute in there, let me look.” She pulls you out of your closet and you sit on your bed watching as she rummages through it. You sigh and lay back on the bed waiting for her to make her selections. 

“Ooh perfect!” Aubrey exclaims. Before you can even sit up you’re hit in the face with a dark purple babydoll dress you barely remember buying. 

“Um, ow?!” You pull the dress off your face and sit up glaring at her. You hold the dress up in front of you. It’s made of velvet and has white ruffles at the bottom and on the neckline.

“You’re gonna look hot in this. Very Courtney Love or Kat Bjelland.” 

You fold the dress over your arm and look up at her, “Fine…I’ll wear. You wanna find me some shoes?” Aubrey nods in response and goes back to your closet while you strip off and slip on the dress. It fits you perfectly, the hem reaching just above your fingertips. You grab a pair of tights from your drawer and slip them on as well. Aubrey lays out a pair of mary janes for you.

“I’m gonna run to my place and get ready, I’ll be back here at 8,” Aubrey says before heading out your door and leaving you alone to figure out your hair and makeup. You pull out a box of magazines from under your bed for some inspiration. You’re a fan of the messy grungey looks all your favorite artists wear. You finally land on a picture of Courtney Love that helps you make up your mind. You copy her dark red lipstick, smudged black liner, and add some mascara. You feel…hot. It’s a first for you to feel anything but fine. 

At 8pm on the dot you hear honking outside your house, you push the curtain out of the way and smile as you see Aubrey waiting outside in her beat up Honda. You head out the door, locking it behind you, and hop in the passenger seat. “You look fucking hot!” Aubrey exclaims, turning on the light in the car to get a better look at you.

You smile giddily, “Thanks…you do too. Anyone you have your eye on tonight?” 

She laughs, “Not unless Heather Watkins plans on breaking up with Ryan anytime soon.”

“We can only hope she’ll turn to her senses and give you a chance.”

“Damn right…Simon is gonna be all over you tonight y’know. I’ve seen Deena make him listen to Hole at lunch before, there’s no way that boy doesn’t have a crush on Courtney Love. You look like her but a million times hotter right now,” Aubrey says, clicking the car light back off and putting the car into drive. You fumble through the tapes in her glove compartment. You pull out a Bikini Kill tape and put it on. 

“How exactly am I supposed to talk to him?” You ask, turning to look at her as she starts the drive to Taylor’s house for the party.

“Well you open your mouth and-” Your groan cuts her off. She laughs at her own joke and rolls her eyes, “It’ll be much easier if you don’t stress over it. Just be yourself, he’ll like you.” You feel unsure, you don’t even know if he knows your name. You’ve been too shy to speak much to him. 

You’ve seen him at his work a few times and he’s always been friendly, but he’s paid for that so it doesn’t mean much in your eyes. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I’ve been pining over this guy for like two years now and he thinks I’m weird or embarrassing or-”

Aubrey rolls her eyes, “He’ll like you, trust me. Okay? And if he doesn’t you can get drunk and then we’ll go to Taco Bell and you can eat as many tacos as you want, okay?” 

“Fine…Taco Bell does sound kind of nice.” 

It doesn’t take long before you pull up in front of Taylor Owens house. There’s already dozens of people out in the grass all hanging out, the best part of living in the woods is having no neighbors to snitch when you throw a party. Aubrey finds a clear space to park and the two of you head inside, you stick close to her as you follow her inside. Some pop song you struggle to recognize is blaring from the speakers when you step inside, you both have to move carefully around the house as it’s already pretty packed. Your eyes scan across the room looking for Simon, you don’t see him but you do see his friends Kate and Deena in the kitchen. They’re leaning against the counter by the drinks talking with one another. As Aubrey leads you into the kitchen Simon comes in through the backdoor. 

“Kate c’mon, it’s your turn to take over, I’ve been out there for an hour now!”

Kate sighs, “Would another hour kill you?”

“You promised we’d switch every hour, go show those jocks your charm, there’s only so much I can do,” he jokes, nudging her towards the door. She rolls her eyes in annoyance but heads out back anyway, Deena follows behind her to keep her company. As Simon turns away from the girls his eyes land on you, he smiles wide and laughs in disbelief. “Holy shit…I never thought I’d see the day you came to a party!” He walks towards you giddily.

You laugh nervously, “Uh yeah, Aubrey practically had to drag me here…”

Aubrey looks over at you and then to Simon and then back at you. She nudges you towards Simon and looks up at him, “Y’know, they’ve never even drank before.”

“Seriously?” Simon wraps his arm around your shoulder and leads you over to the booze, you look back at Aubrey and she’s smiling at you with a thumbs up. “We are gonna fix that, take your pick.” You nervously look over all the different bottles, unsure of what you might like. 

“Uhh…what do you like? I don’t really know where to start with any of this…” You answer nervously. All the different brands and types overwhelm you.

Simon pulls you closer to him, leaning forward to get a better look at the selection. “Hmm…how about…peach schnapps! He grabs the clear bottle off the island, holding it up for you. “This barely tastes like anything, you’ll like it. Trust me.” He sets the bottle back down and grabs you a pink plastic shot glass, grabbing himself a purple one. You watch as he pours you both a shot, handing yours over after. You hold the shot glass up to your nose and sniff, nose crinkling in disgust.

“Is it supposed to smell like that?” You ask, looking at him warily. 

“Oh yeah, all alcohol tastes and smells pretty gross, this one isn’t as bad as the rest though. You’ll be fine, trust me,” he smiles. You watch as he leans his head back and takes his shot. You watch how his nose crinkles at the taste as he sets down the shot glass.

“So I just lean my head back and drink it?” You ask, holding your drink up..

“Pretty much, you wanna take it fast, don’t let it sit in your mouth. If you do you’ll wanna spit it out, this one tastes a little like cough syrup so you really don’t want it sitting in your mouth,” Simon explains. 

You hold the glass up to your lips and lean your head back, attempting to shoot it back but you only get about half the shot into your mouth before you try to choke it down. Simon giggles and shakes his head, “Uh, here. Let me help you.” He grabs your chin and leans your head back, “Mouth open, c’mon.” You feel your cheeks heat up but you do as he says. He grabs the shot glass from the counter and holds it up, “Let’s try this again, yeah?” You’re definitely going to be thinking about this in the shower later. He holds the shot glass up to your lips and tilts your head back just a bit more before pouring the shot down your throat. He lets you go once you’ve swallowed it down but smiles smugly as he watches you wipe your lips. “You’ve got it for next time right?” 

“Y-Yeah…definitely,” you sputter. Your pupils are blown and you feel hot. Your eyes wander his body shamelessly. You’ve never had anyone touch you like that, never had anyone take charge like that. It lights a fire in you with only one way to put it out. Simon can tell he’s got you worked up, he looks almost proud of it. 

“What’d you think? It wasn’t too bad, right?” He asks, moving in closer to you, putting his hand behind you on the counter you’re leaned up against. 

“I-It was nice…I mean, it didn’t taste as bad when you helped me,” you say nervously, looking down at your feet and playing with the hem of your dress. His hand comes down to feel the velvet material, grabbing the hem and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. 

“I like this look on you, very…punk. It suits you.” Your cheeks heat up again at his comment, at this moment you’re mentally begging someone to turn the ac up. 

“Thanks…I don’t usually dress like this, I kind of like it,” You say softly, looking up at him. He shifts his eyes to yours, briefing flicking down to your lips then back to your eyes.

“Why don’t you? It suits you, you like it, so what’s stopping you?” He asks, continuing to absentmindedly play with the hem of your dress. 

“I don’t know…I just don’t want to stick out at school I guess? It feels easier to just blend into the background, y’know?” 

“Let’s make a deal, you start dressing however you want and if anyone says anything about it I’ll have your back. It’ll make my day better to see you walk into school wearing something like this,” he teases, letting go of the hem of your skirt.

“Fine…deal,” you chuckle, holding out your hand for him to shake on it. His grip is firm when he grabs your hand, he pulls you slightly forward as he shakes on it. You put your hand against his chest to stop yourself from stumbling forward. 

“I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to talk to you. I’ve seen you around school for years, you’ve always looked cute y’know. You remind me of the basketcase chick from The Breakfast Club, before they gave her that shitty makeover at the end though. You just…you’ve always looked cool, I don’t know why we didn’t talk before,” Simon rambles.

“To be honest you’ve always intimidated me a little, I don’t know why. I’ve always wanted to talk to you but I could never work up the confidence.” You can’t believe you’re admitting that to him. 

“Me? Intimidating? You flatter me,” Simon giggles, his hand comes up to his chest dramatically before he gives you a coy look.

You roll your eyes and lean back against the counter again, Simon puts his hand on the other side of you, boxing you in against the counter now. “Are you always this dramatic?”

He feigns offense, gasping and pouting at your words. “Dramatic? I am not dramatic.”

You chuckle, “You should really consider joining theatre.”

“They’d be lucky to have me,” he says cockily.

“So lucky.”

You both pause, tension thick between you two. You’re both suddenly aware of just how close you are to one another. His hand comes up to cup your face and you melt into his touch. He starts to lean in before being interrupted by Kate.

“Si! C’mon switch with me, it’s been an hour.” He sighs and turns back to face her, his hands coming down to his side, making a fist in annoyance.

“I was kind of in the middle of something, Kate!” He groans, his eyes flicking back to you as you lean against the counter. 

Her eyebrows raise and she laughs, “Oh! Were you just-”

“I was about to,” Simon cuts her off.

“Well, rules are rules right. We’ve gotta make money somehow,” she says, crossing her arms. 

Simon debates what to do but eventually sighs and gives in, “Fine. Yeah, whatever.” He;s clearly annoyed by Kate interrupting the two of you. He turns back to you and kisses you quickly, catching you off guard. When he pulls away you instinctively lean towards him, almost chasing after his lips. “Come meet me outside, I’ll need some company. Maybe even give you and your friend a little sample, yeah?” He pulls away before you can respond and slips out the back door. 

“Did you really need to cock block him like that?” Deena groans at Kate. 

“He’s done it to me before, I wanted a little revenge,” she turns to you, “No offense to you.” 

“None taken…I think?”

Before Kate can say anything else Aubrey comes up behind you and drags you away from Kate and Deena. She pulls you towards the front door, “We need to go, whatever shitty food they had is going to make me puke. Can you drive?” Her face is pale and she doesn’t look great.

“Shit, yeah. Uh, go start the car. I’ll be out in a minute, there’s something I need to do really quickly.” Aubrey nods and heads out the front. You head towards the back to find Simon sitting in a lawn chair, a box in his lap, looking beyond bored. “You got a sharpie on you?” You ask, standing in front of him.

He nods and grabs it out of his hoodie pocket, he hands it to you with a confused look on his face. You grab his arm and roll up his sleeve, you quickly write your number on his arm and toss the sharpie back into his lap. You kiss his cheek, your lipstick leaving a mark. “Call me, okay?” 

He looks at you like he could kiss you again. “Yes ma’am,” he chuckles, leaning back in the chair and watching as you run off through the gate and to Aubrey’s car.

[totaly-obsessed]

Could you write for Ella where reader is also a footballer but reader tears her ACL

Jersey Dispute

Ella Toone x reader request

-> Reader tears her ACL - sending Ella into panic - fluffy

-> probably not the correct timeline of a healing ACL

-> Combined with this request!

-> I hope this is okay, @ anon's!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Ella hated knees. She really did.

Your girlfriend had been on the pitch, not too far away from you when you had gone down in a Manchester derby. Forgotten was the color of your shirt as Ella rushed to you. To her surprise you weren’t crying, you just sat there, waiting for the medics. “I tore it.” Those words still haunt her in her sleep.

You had waited for her outside of the changing room and together you slowly walked to the car. The ride was tense, the brunette not too sure how to approach the situation, but you cracked joke after joke, trying to loosen her up.

Sure this was bad, you knew it meant nearly a year of no football for you but in the end, there was nothing that you could do right now – you were just glad that the World Cup was just over, giving you a slim chance of getting ft for the Olympics.

Waiting for the surgery was the worst but Ella gave it her best to fill the house with laughter. And she did it fabulously. Quite a few of you and her teammates showed up, wanting to see how you were doing, which led to many fun evenings playing Mario Cart and watching movies.

After a month, it finally came; the surgery to make everything worse so that you could get better again. Your girlfriend was nervous, much more than you were, running around in circles in your hospital room. She had taken the week off from training and everyone understood that she wanted to be with you.

“Ella, please baby sit down. You’re driving me nuts!” With a shamed look, she sat down in a chair next to your bed, hands pressed between her knees but she couldn’t hold it, jumping up again, going back to pacing. 

“Ells, please…” You patted the space next to you, scooching over so that she fit. Now wrapped in your arms, tucked under a blanket she was finally able to breathe. “I’ll go into surgery in two hours when no emergency comes in. Mary will be here so-“ You could see her trying to defend herself, that she didn’t need a babysitter, but you put your hand over her mouth. “Shhh. Mary will come and you will go eat something. Then I‘ll come out of surgery and everything will be absolutely fine.”

Mary had arrived just in time when they took you for surgery so that she could take your frantic girlfriend out.

Just as you had predicted, everything had been fine.

Now, nearly a month later you had started physio-therapy and rehab at the Manchester City facility, leaving Ella to worry at Manchester United – so you called her every time you could to reassure her.

In the evenings it was hard for your girlfriend to let you help her cook. “Love, no! Sit back down, hmm?” Most of the time she just kidnapped you to the living room, sat you down on the couch, and went back to cook.

It was great, being able to spend so much time with your girlfriend and being able to catch up on Uni work – you loved it, Ella loved it, everybody loved it. The bickering was kept to a minimum with evenings spent curled up in each other’s arms. It was perfect, almost too perfect…

Nearly two months of pure bliss were interrupted by the first disagreement.

Manchester derbies were ferocious and the atmosphere electric, they were great. Ella saw your inability to play the match, as her opportunity to get you to wear her very red ‘Toone’ jersey. “Babe – pleaseee! You’ll look so good in it!” She had flung open the bedroom door, where you were currently sorting through the huge closet for clothes to donate. In her hands was a huge box, containing a whole stack of her shirts. “Ells we’ve been over this. I will not wear a Man United jersey.”

The brunette was whining and pouting letting the box fall to the ground, eventually flinging herself on the bed – desperate to get your attention. But you prevailed, having your back towards your girlfriend helping with that. You couldn’t cave – no way. “Quit it, Ella.”

Oof. That first name hit.

“But Baby-“ She was quickly shut up with a deep kiss after you had finally turned around, gracing the stunned midfielder with your attention. “I’ll wear your England jersey, yeah?” and with a pat to her cheek, you were gone again, leaving a stunned Ella behind.

Gameday came and Ella played her best game of the season – a hat trick and an assist, beating Manchester City four to one. Her motivation? You. Sat in the family section wearing an England jersey that had her name on the back.

And while you were sad that your team lost, there was just no way you could be mad when a grinning Ella came out of the changing room, match ball in hand, falling into your open and waiting arms, littering your face in tiny kisses.

“Ya’ gonna have to wear this every game day now – would’ve been better in a United shirt though.” With a disgusted groan, you shoved her off, but there was no chance to get the teasing smirk off her face for the whole day.

Five months later it was Ellas' turn to sit in the family section, wearing an England jersey with your name. Her legs bounced up and down, nervously waiting for you to get subbed on.

When you did, she couldn’t do anything else but grin – seeing you back on the pitch, knowing how hard you worked for this made her prouder than she had ever been.

She blissfully ignored Alessia taking a video of you coming on for Alanna Kennedy, and then turning the camera to a teary-eyed Tooney, clutching your jersey in her hands.

[tookthe-405]

On our way

Chapter 1 :

We’ll keep falling on each other

DONATIONS & LINKS 🇵🇸

DAILY CLICK🍉

Loser!ellie x ex-bsf!reader

ROADTRIPPPP

authors note: first chapterrr🤪 ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO PLS

And pls tell me if the chapters should be shorter and what kind of perspective I should write from (Ellie pov will come later when I’ll fit), LONG AF

Summary: modern Jackson au!

you and Ellie were best friends through your childhood. Now your just neighbours who act like enemies towards each other, but after an incidence you both decide to run away together.

Joel lives 💯

warnings: anxiety , Panik attack?, alcohol, smoking, feeling of throwing up (only mentioned once) smut in future chapters!!, chaotic and stupid arguing between reader and Ellie, school anxiety, messy af (I mostly write at night when the demons come out🐺)

(ellie is 18 and reader is 17 (soon 18))

Readers pov:

6/25

You couldn’t remember the fall out.

For a matter of fact you couldn’t remember anything that happened that night.

You just knew that the next morning Ellie and you weren’t friends anymore. You guys weren’t anything, just total strangers who knew more about each other than any other.

“Iced Coffee and 4 chocolate donuts should be your order”

Your head snaps up and an older guy holds out a bag of donuts.

“Yes, thank you”

You quickly scurry out of the waiting crowd, out the dinner and into the summer air.

2:25 p.m. If Jody would finally pick you up, the both of you might only be 10 minutes late to the game.

While you're waiting, you take a donut out of the bag and realize as you're eating that you don't have a cold ice coffee in your other hand.

"Fuck”

you really wanted that coffee, and by any normal logic you should just go back.

But the fear of embarrassment won. so you decide to just wait outside without a coffee, feeling the dizziness of the lack of sleep in your brain.

The day before was the last exam and you couldn’t sleep the whole night, because of your anxious thoughts that are so unjustified that it’s actually embarrassing.

you watched the cars drive by, as you wait for Judy to pull over.

Today was the last school day. Ever. This morning was the last morning you would ever be in a high school class room to study.

After waiting for a while you hear the horn of Judy`s car or rather her parents car, since both of you are broke and only one of you has their license.

"i forgot my coffee" you complain as you collapse into the passager seat.

"yeah but you didn`t forgot the donuts and thats the really important thing here" Jody happily takes the box full of donuts, out of your hand

"footbal games always stress me out" you rummage through your bag, looking for gumm or just something that will help your body through this hard time.

"i hope my exams were good" you tell her anxious.

"It was our last fucking day, dont worry about something that is over soon. Those last days don`t really matter no one cares"

"I do"

Judy scoffs, puting the donute to her mouth again, all while looking at the street.

"I know, thats your problem. Really, you need to fix that. Your grades are amazing and whatever college you wanna go to, will say yes."

Now you scoff.

"right then why haven’t they replied yet then?"

"because you were too anxious too send your application, you almost threw up in my room"

Your face contorts at the memory. Judy's poor cat hissed at you the whole time because you couldn't sit still at all.

"yeah sorry he gets like that, but not all cats are this easy to annoy i swear"

Your giggle fills the car and you share the last donute, as judy tries to find a parking spot which is obviossly not that easy anymore.

"goddamit those wild people are so greedy" her hands grab the steerig wheel harder, but theres simply no other free spot anymore.

You grow even more annoyed now.

The thoughts in your head take more space than you usually allow them.

The whole morning was shit, the whole day is shit and your life is fucked if you don’t get into university.

"i think we need to use the other one" judy says

"then we`ll have to run through the whole fucking school, were already late, Malik is playing!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she looks at you, thinking, and finally sighs.

"get out I’ll park the car" You immediantly regret snapping at her.

"you dont have to-"

she interrupts you (no suprise)

"bro get out of my car. It’s my fault we`re too late anyway and we both know im only here for the fries"

For a few seconds you hesitate, but then you grab your bag and the donut, and get out the car. Outside, a warm brise tickles your skin, now that the sun is shining right on your face. You pinch you eyes.

Judy dissapers around the corner and you wave, hoping she saw it, but the worry leaves with her because you start running towards the football field.

The whole row was full, every seat. You try to push your way through the crowd on the front, which didn't make it any easier because everyone was pushing forward against the bar to see better.

And it was so loud, every type of noises from every angle. This is your last game of course everyone will be loud, Jesus you’ll be loud, but the game hasn’t even started.

Arriving in the almost last row, Lyla waves to you and you sprint towards her.

"I don't know how you manage to save us seats, thank you so much," You almost scream, because the large group sitting behind her started singing the fucking national anthem.

lyla quickly hugs you and sits right back down. "I don't know how either, but here you go. Where's Judy?"

Her gaze wanders behind you to look out for her, as if judy is hiding behind you "Looking for another parking spot and getting us some fries"

You feel the light box in your hand and remember the one donut inside it.

“Here we’ve left you a donut”

“How generous” lyla replies smirking

Your attention turns to the football field. No one’s there.

“Everyone is still in the cabins, you're not as late as you think" she adds while slurping her milshake.

Malik is Lylas brother and a good friend of yours. Even Judy likes him, and that's saying something.

After the "incident" you tried so hard to find another group of friends, that one day it actually happened.

Which wasnt easy, before ellie you didnt relly need other friends. You also didnt want other ones. You always thought she felt the same way.

Her company, her words, her feelings and thoughts were all you wanted.

"Holy shit im not late!"

Judy's loud voice pulls you out of your thoughts. She quickly sits down next to you and hands you the large french fries package. You grin at her and pass them on to lyla. The loud noises became quieter and quieter, which made you hear the microphone voice.

"Dear seniors and juniors, After weeks full of learning and exams, one last football game with our beloved team and a guest team of their choice should be enough for you. I don't understand why you wanted to have this when every one of you’ve seen so many other games, but as you want. That’s the last one really though, please."

Judy giggles at the voice of the principal, but with empathy rather than mockery.

"Poor Ms. Servopoulos, juniors and seniors are not easy. The Other Class's prank surpassed everything"

lylas eyes widened at the memory. "Which of the 20 One?" She asks, leaning a bit over my lap to hear judy better.

"The one where they all had their tables outside at the_" Judy's bright voice gets stuck in the air, and she looks past me with squinted eyes in dismay.

You know why and didn't want to turn around.

But you do it anyway.

She wore her typical short baggy shorts and a red oversize t shirt with a fucking beanie , which makes her look like the love child of Adam Sandler and Jesse Pinkman.

You’d be happy to laugh at her if she didn't look so fucking good. But you chuckle a bit in your head at the Beanie, because it’s fucking june.

She looks down at you , just standing there.

Ellie has always been a bit taller than you. You might be sitting right know, but you still know That hasn't changed yet. You don't have to get up to be sure. You would notice if she grew even 1 cm. You don't know if she would still recognize that about you.

The familiar, soft and light brown freckles on her face. As a tween you always wanted to connect them, to find out how it would turn out. Or how she would look. Or react. You wanted to make her laugh so bad it hurt.

"Seth told me to bring this too you"

The Ice Caffee, with your name on it, is suddenly right in front of your face.

"Why should I accept it? It's already warm anyway" The irritated pitch in your voice cannot be ignored

Elie's gaze remains neutral, but there was some caution in her expression. "He forced me when I was paying, just take it and throw it away."

"Why didn't you throw it away?"

"Because im at a point where I listen to that old man for my benefits. Seth hates me already. He didn't even tell me about the senior special last week" she protests

You roll your eyes in annoyance.

"i dont give a shit about you or the now hot coffee"

Your argument became more intense, Judy and lyla exchanged glances but stayed out of it. You want to sort out your shit yourself and they know that.

"just fucking throw it away ellie!"

"No, I'm sitting at the top and have to go down all the fucking stairs and-"

"I don't care Ellie"

The people around slowly became aware of the both of you screaming, and you wonder for a second how strange you both must look right now. How you line up like little kids. But ellie also hurt the child version of you. God she has hurt so fucking many versions of you.

"just be happy that I’m even bringing this too you, i didnt really had to do that"

Her hand holds the plastic cup so hard in front of your face that it looks like it's about to explode.

The fact that she thinks she has a right to be angry with you bothers you even more, as you try to hold back your tears. You try to imagine her as adam sandler, screaming at you in this fucked up voice from grown ups, to make the tears go away.

"right i didn’t ask you to do anything, you decided to be so stupid and come over here"

she chuckles sligtly at your words, really pissed now. "you bitch-"

The last words never came out of her mouth. But the coffee out the cup. On your shirt.

Frightened, you take a loud breath in and stand up. Ellie has already put a safe distance between the both of you and her own mouth is open with surprise and startle.

Behind her stands a paralyzed Joshua, with his hand on his mouth.

"I swear, he ran into me...," she babbles desperately to herslef, waving her hands in the air, the empty cup on the floor now. Looks like the rest of the liquor soaked your shoes.

Yo didn’t let her finish. You mumble to lyla and judy not to follow you and that you would call them later. You grabbed your bag and Then left.

And you cried the whole ride home with your mom next to you. And not because of the coffee.

The smoke comes out of your mouth, you take the ciggarette to you lips again, and breathe in deeply.

If you smoke in your room, you always have to lean almost completely out of the window, now with the shadows of the trees falling in your face.

The light, split by the limbs, danced to the movements of the branches. There was a small and almost sweet breeze in the air.

The sun is still shining, but the golden hour is almost here.

You get goose bums on your arm as a cold breeze comes, and you put out the cigarette on your ashtray.

As you lie down on your bed and just stare at the wall for a while, the dark smell of cigarettes is still in the air. your parents don't care as long as it doesn't get into the rest of the house.

You grab a book from your bedside table and start reading.

"And when you at last find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped darek inside yous so long"

You close the book with a jerk.

Yes, maybe no sylvia plath for today.

The buzzing of your phone makes your head move to the side.

Judy: Malik won

Judy: Tonights a party at the beach, everyones going

Your eyes stare back into the void of your ceiling.

Ellie has had so much influence over you and your feelings for so long, that has to stop at some point. And with all the anger in you, you think that today it will.

You get up and stand in front of your closet, you rummage around to find something and you do. A t shirt that belonged to ellie.

Your fingers brush over the dark green material. It was a fucking normal t shirt. Except that it wasn't.

"Today it will stops"

You put the t-shirt in your backpack and look for an outfit that was well suited for the beach. In the end, you wear short jeans shorts, where your grandma had sewn in flower patterns years ago, With a light blue shirt it goes nicely with the flowers.

you: can you pick me up?

Judy: I would love too :)

You quickly brush your teeth to get rid of the smell of smoke. Outside, you can already hear Judy's honking. You sprint down the stairs with your backpack and look for your beach shoes.

"Where are you going" Your mother is standing behind you with her arms crossed. In her old cardigan, she looked like she did a few years ago and you almost get a déjà vu.

"A party, Judys picking me up"

"how long are you gonna be there?"

"Mom im going to be 18 in what now 4 days you dont have to ask me that anymore"

she scoffs

"yes i do and guess what? i also want you to text me So i know youll be fine"

Nervously, you look out to see if Judy's car is still there, maybe she thinks you've changed your mind.

"Ok, Mom, I'll probably go to Judy's and be gone till midnight."

Suspiciously, she looks at you from head to toe, but (luckily) gives in.

"okay but please call me if something happens. Be smarter than your brother"

Your body flinches at the mention of him. "Has… he called lately?" you murmur

She looked at the floor and you thought for a moment she was going to cry. "No, but maybe if you call him, he'll answer"

You nod, but you know you won't do it.

He doesn't care about you either.

~

"I'm proud that you're coming along" Judy and you are walking, with beer in your arms, towards the beach where a few people have already gathered.

"I mean, that was a great show, a few people definitely noticed it"

You sigh at the unpleasant memory. "Then that's the way it is, I think a few other things are going to happen tonight, that are far more interesting than a girl with coffee on her T-shirt"

"I hope so" A mischievous smile on her face.

You look around to find lyla and malik, But because of all the people, it doesn’t really work. You were sure that there weren't that many seniors and juniors, but that a few friends of others came along. There was a big fire and even a barbecue.

After wandering around for a while, you find the two siblings. They had already made themselves comfortable on the big blanket and had taken some alcohol with them, but the bottles will probably spread over the whole beach anyway.

"Finally I see you, everything ok with you?" Malik mentions as he stands up, giving you a vigorouslyhug. "Really fucked up what happened"

You digress with a wave of your hand and sit down

"im fine, but you won, tell me abou it!" You try to make your voice as shrill as possible to make it clear that you don't want to talk about it.

“oh yeah we won, I made a touchdown, obviouly"

"almost didn’t catch it tho" throws lyla into the round and you giggle.

"Shut up, we only won our last game Ever, Because of me!”

Pride, but also the quiet pain of the loss of his team, can be noticed on his face andin his voice. The reality that you try so hard to run away from hits you again. high school is over, real life begins now.

“whatever, im getting something to drink and then im gonna tell sam to put on some music” Lyla ties you back into the moment. "I'm going with you , I need a drink of Voda-Coke"

~

Later that night Mr. Brightside was what got you on your feet and into the crowd.

Mesmerizingly, the fire flares higher and leaves just light trail of smoke behind. Malik and Judy are now singing along loudly with the others.

All these people who so clumsily sing the song about a heartbroken man, as if they would die if they don't do it, carry the same fate with them. They will all wake up tomorrow with a headache and worries about the next day. as it is one day closer to real life.

Some have broken families or parents, complicated friends, grief and draining fear of the future.

Knowing that it was like that but everyone was still singing along motivates you to do it too.

"Here more vodka has to work not taste good" Judy pours more vodak into your cup, but misses more than ends up in it.

Now you just laugh, because why did you thought so long about everything, this night was a good decision.

"I need to dance like I physically need to dance"

She grabs Malik's arm as he pours more beer next to her.

“let’s danceee!"

Lyla stands next to you, grinning and sober, and you both watch her.

"he likes her"

Lyla explains

"I know" you reply.

“That’s fucked up”

She looks a bit worried, as she watches the two of them dance and sing, with her arms crossed

"is that bad? or are you the "dont date my fucking brother" type of girl, please dont be by the way its always a bit-"

Your brain is mush, your tongue works on its own and Lyla obviously didn't like that

"no of course not, i don't care about him or who he dates"

The light from the fire reflected on her skin, she looked like a painting drawn at sunset and you wished you had your camera with you. It would be a shot of a very sad girl, with a lot of repressed feelings that she will never explain to a human soul.

But she didn't have to, because you understand.

You once looked at someone like that, from a distance where these looks were not visible to the person, where they were safe.

Comforting her was your first thought, dumb decision because a drunk person comforting a sober one never works out.

"I'm sure judy likes you back"

Alarm bells could be seen in her eyes.

"shut up you don't know that"

you laugh but it sounds unstable.

“No your right I don’t”

It looked like a lot of fun, everyone singing and drinking away their worries, you just wanted to join the dancing crowd when you see her. Again.

Fast an quickly, just ignore her, act like you didn’t see her.

But your eyes lock with hers and your stomach sinks.

In that moment you wish you could just admit that Ellie will always be a part of your mind. Wherever you are, with whomever, she will always appear In your mind and she will haunt you.

The worst thing is that it was also your fault, you allowed this relationship to be far too deep and perplexed even though you knew that it was becoming too emotional.

Ellie's presence on the other side of the fire, fills you with all those deeply buried feelings, as if she dug them up with her own hands. As if you told her where you buried them.

“I really don't understand you two"

with a snap you arrive back on planet earth.

"what?"

"the both of you. starring at each other, like you're about to run through fire to be just a bit closer. Makes me want to puke" lyla repeats.

Disbelief and vulnerability spreads through your chest and all those lights are too bright, the music is too loud and Ellie is too close.

"It's ok to forgive, we don't even know what happened so be honest, how bad was it?"

brushing all those feelings off, or at least trying to, you turn around and disappear into the darkness.

In a kind of trance you push your way through the many people, a few call after you, and you are sure that you have run into someone. You just didn't notice anything about it.

You stop in front of the many cars. You used to drive with your father to the local supermarket or other short distances, but you're not willing to steal a car.

Your head turns to the right then left, looking for something, anything that will take you away from here.

Cars, skateboards and bicycles.

Without thinking about it, you grab an unchained bike and get on it. The adrenaline in your veins works on its own and has far too much influence on your body.

It took some time to get stable on it, because the tears in your eyes made it difficult to see. Nobody seems to have noticed that you ran away and that you are riding a bike that doesn't belong to you.

The road was pitch black dark.

The warm summer wind wipes your tears away, the bright street lights of the city can be seen in the distance.

You step on the pedals and realize that you have arrived on the local road.

Out of breath, you press your fingers on the brake lever.

Desperately trying to get your lungs to return to normal, mind concentrate on the outline of your shadow that was visible on the floor, because of the street lanterns.

You get off the bike in silence, put it down next to you on the sidewalk and sit down.

The pumping of your veins feels like electricity.

You could still hear a few cars in the background.

You brush away strands of hair from your forehead.

“Fuck” you hear yourself whisper.

The tears were just about to come back when you hear a car turning.

She still drives Joel's old truck.

The vehicle stops in front of your feet and you notice that some of the light green paint has rusted off.

That wasn't the case the last time you saw that thing.

Ellie slams the car door loudly behind her, so she looks back to see if everything is still fine.

The feeling of shame just bubbles out of you and drips onto the floor, as she steps in front of you with even louder steps.

your head lifts up just a bit, to look at her. Her nose is a bit crooked and she's breathing just as fast as you were a few seconds ago, it looks a bit like she was running after you.

“What the fuck are you doing”

Ellie Williams will always come from the far corner of the world and remind you that you will never let go of her.

The effects of the alcohol still had an influence on your brain, so you stay calm.

“calming down"

For a few seconds it's eerily quiet, for a moment you thought Ellie had left again, but the squeaking of her sneakers prove the opposite. Her body settles down next to you.

"You look really stupid, sitting here like that."

You scoff mockingly.

"yes, that's exactly why you're sitting next to me bitch"

"don't fucki-"

"Don’t act so innocent, remember what you said today before you spilled my coffee on my shirt”

Her head turns to you, sweet regret and longing in her moss green eyes. She scans the bike next to you.

"i think i stole that" the embaressment goes up your cheeks.

"yeah totally badass, but we have to bring that back later" she chuckles softly.

The bright beam of light from the lantern above you gives her face an bright tint , like the beach sun always did in the evening.

"sorry... about the coffee, joshua ran into me and-"

"Yes, I know you've said that before"

She drops her head. No idea why she's sitting here, but you don't mind. you just wanted to capture her and keep her close to you, like a butterfly.

"your brother called me" Ellie mentions it so casually that it shocks you to the bone.

He can even call her but not you. After she just sat down, you were as close as ever.

"what did he say"

"He wants us to come visit him."

Her pupils were large, but you assumed it was because she just drove a dark route and not because she was high. She's way too lucid to be high.

"why? and why the both of us?"

Ellie shrugs her shoulders cluelessly

"He said that we would like Florida, that he was getting a new apartment next week and that we should visit him. You didn't tell him anything about me?"

"I haven't told him anything Ellie, we haven't been able to get in touch with him for months"

You can clearly see from her expression that it makes as little sense to her as it does to you, which worries you even more. something is wrong.

You can feel how your hands shaking, you tried to tell yourself that your just cold.

"Alex said that he tried to call you and your parents, but the line never got through, fuck he even reached Joel"

You continue to shake and Ellie gently grabs your shoulder like she has often before, when you were lost in your head, when you were so afraid of roller coasters that you almost vomited or when you cried because Alex moved out 3 years ago.

Ellie's own security was always an anchor for you, when things got too confusing she strengthened you and even though you didn't talk to each other for almost a year, she still decided to tell you that your brother was fine.

That he wants you with him.

Sometimes, on the particularly melancholic nights when loneliness and nostalgia take over, you read Sylvia's poems and it just clicks. That all because this girl with her hair that is way too short and her pants that are way too big and her full lips, her unhealthy obsession with the universe and planets, exists on the same time as you.

“There’s gonna be a explanation or a reason whatever but just calm down for now okay?”

her voice is suppressed but still safe. yes the Ellie Anchor effect, fuck that shit

“Okay yes your right what the fuck”

“Yeah I can be right sometimes”

“ I Doubt that”

Her lips pucker upwards and yours follow suit. you are still too close to each other, it all feels too new and yet too nostalgic.

The old patterns gave your heart a little sting, you quickly shook off her hand on your shoulder. You clear your throat, thanking the universe or whoever there is that it's night.

Otherwise Ellie wouldn't have been able to miss your red cheeks. In your mind you beat yourself up because you still feel this way after everything she did.

"Show me your phone"

Your hand goes protectively to your back trouser pocket. "um no?!"

Ellie Scoffs thinking your joking, but when she sees that you’re serious, she laughs.

"just give it? the fuck do you think im gonna do"

"I don't know"

With a little nudge to your foot, she gives you that look again that shows trust and you give in.

"fine"

It's a little painful for you, this morning you had a mental crisis because of her, now you letting her scroll through your contacts.

"yeah, sorry to disappoint you, but this is not your bros number"

But that must be his.

Your parents gave it to you.

Oh.

"show me" you said firmly, having a really fucked up scenario in your head, about why this is the wrong number.

Ellie takes out her phone and shows you your brother's contact. chats, phone calls, everything is there. the one from this week too.

"this doesn't make any sense, I just- I don't get it"

"Your parents gave you the number?"

You nod, "My mom said, a few Months ago he had to change his number, in the beginning we texted a bit but never really called"

your eyes switch from her phone to yours to check the numbers again and again .

"After a few days, he didn't get in touch at all, with no one. We thought he was just done with his old life." you pronounce the words and your stomach turns.

Ellie's eyes stare thoughtfully at the asgap in front of you. You're helplessly trying to build up eye contact to figure out what you're thinking.

"I think they lied to you… He said something like this could happen" She says it so fucking sure.

You couldn't take in any more and you get up with your eyes are watering "What the fuck are you talking about Ellie" Your voice broke with the trust in your parents, even Ellie looks at you sympathetically.

"Alex said on the phone that he has been trying to reach someone from home for a long time, but it doesn't work. He was so desperate that he even called me and joel. Do you think your parents or your mom-"

you raise your hand to tell her not to finish the sentence. "Why… would they do that?"

She gets up and comes closer to you. "He mentioned that your mother said he shouldn’t call her anymore or you anymore, that even you don't him in your life anymore"

It feels like your whole past is falling apart, all the beautiful moments with your family, you even want the bad memories back.

"Hey"

Ellie's soft fingertips gently touch the back of your hand. Roughness was still there, she hasn`t stopped playing guitar.

"lets run away"

a/n: omg, the chapters are gonna be shorter next time and we’re also on the road PLS STICK W IT

(and reblog😍)

anyways if you’ve come this far ur a real survivor thanks 🫶

@yourelliewillms @bready101 @liasxeatt @darkerstarsstuff @elliezato @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @lovelyxbaby @yalaysbee @macaroni676

[noxturnalnymph]

The Chase (Part 1)

SerialKiller!Joel x F!Reader   (5.4k)

DARKAU! SEQUEL TO THE HUNTED. POV will switch between Joel and Reader. This is dark, even darker than the first part. Read the warnings if you’re worried. Skip them if you don’t want anything to be spoiled.

Summary: Joel Miller is on the run after being released by his captor - a woman who claims to be a killer just like him. He’s so focused on trying to outrun her that he hasn’t killed anyone in months. Will her obsession or his own be his undoing?

Warnings for Part 1&2: 18+ MDNI. This is dark. Unprotected PiV sex, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, kidnapping, stalking, bondage, violence, punching, kicking, slapping, choking, blood, mention of needles, talk of murder. *TW: Character Death*

A/N: REUNITED AND IT FEELS SO GOOD! When you see "*****" - that indicates a POV switch. This is Part 1, at 5.4k words (there is almost no smut here - sorry), Part 2 will be slightly longer and will have smut.

He’s been on the run for almost five months now, though it feels longer. He saw the hungry look in your eyes when he suggested you let him go in order to chase after him again, but when the needle went into his neck he thought it was all over. Suffice to say that ever since he came-to in that empty garage he has been scrambling to stay two steps ahead of you. 

What he realized too late was that you still weren’t planning on playing fair. You left his wallet but took his driver’s license. His actual driver’s license with his actual home address on it. He also realized you had searched through his truck when you cleared out his cabin, taking all of his ‘hunting supplies’. And finally, it struck him much later than it should have that the phone you kept waving in front of his face was his own phone, which you also took with you.

So you have the location of his northern cabin, his home address, and would probably be able to find his secondary southern cabin with his map data in his phone. All three were burned. He has to start from scratch, and he has to do it all while staying hidden. He decides to risk it and immediately heads home, thinking there’s a chance that if he drives through the night, he might beat you there. If you didn’t head there as soon as you left, and maybe you didn’t - thinking it was too obvious of a place to start  - he has a shot.

He gets there and the house appears empty, no strange car in the driveway, doors locked the way he left them. He thinks things are looking up. Then he finds another note on his kitchen table. It says ‘Miss me yet?’ in a looser, more erratic handwriting scrawled in the middle of a large piece of paper. Covering the rest of the paper are lipstick prints smooched in varying shades and intensities. Jesus fuckin’ christ, he thinks, you are unhinged.

He checks the house carefully, looking in closets and under furniture, but you aren’t there. You must have been there for a little bit, there is evidence you made yourself some food and took a shower, but didn’t stick around. He gets right to work on his plan. He showers, his reflection and another lipstick print staring back at him from the vanity mirror. Then he spends the morning packing up anything he thinks he’ll need into boxes and totes and limping them out to his truck bed, his leg wound still fresh.

He doesn’t pack much, he’s not that sentimental. He packs up some old photo albums, all of his non-perishable food, a bunch of cash, a variety of clothes, a variety of weapons, and all of his camping supplies. While packing he notices that you spent enough time in the house to go through a lot of his things. You have stolen a bunch of his clothes, his toothbrush, some photos off his walls, and his pillow.

He makes some phone calls to arrange for the packing up and donating of the rest of the items in his house and then selling the house itself, making up some excuse about moving to his cabin permanently. He gives his forwarding contact number as the burner phone that he picked up at a Walmart halfway back home. 

Neither of his cabins were purchased through ‘regular channels’ and his real name isn’t associated with either of them, so they should be safe to hold on to for now but as long as you know about them he can’t step foot near them. He gives his truck a very thorough once-over for tracking equipment and leaves his neighborhood. 

That was 21 weeks and 3 days ago.

He was so careful at first. He would constantly check his mirrors to watch for following cars. He wouldn’t use any roadside motels or even register at campsites, preferring to drive deep into public land and boondock in his tent. He washed up and did his laundry in creeks, ate the canned food he’d packed up, and even utilized his boy scout skills - foraging for edible plants and hunting small game animals. 

He would think about you constantly. Not even because he wanted to, but because he was constantly gripped by the panic that you were on his tail. One time he could have sworn he heard your voice calling his name as he leaned over a mountain stream, the bubbling water carrying it downstream. He saw movement across the water out of the corner of his eye, but when his head jerked up, all he could track was the tall dried grass swaying in the light breeze. 

After a couple months of this behavior his food supply was completely tapped out. He was tired of sleeping on the ground, tired of washing his body in cold streams, and tired of hiding away like a prey animal. He got in his truck and drove for three straight days back to the deep south, so he could escape the cold of winter where he had been further north. Halfway through the second day he was so tired he almost pulled over to sleep, but then it was as if lightning jolted through his entire body when he thought he saw your face in a passing car. A double take relieved him of that fear, but it woke him up enough to keep him going for another day.

He checked into an old roadside inn that he drove by twice before stopping. He didn’t see any security system outside of the building. In the office he inquired about a room and noticed that they weren’t even using electronic equipment, instead keeping a written logbook of guests. He paid for a week in cash and when they asked for his ID, he handed them one of his fakes, watching as they copied the false information into their book.

The musty smell of the room didn’t bother him, nor did the squeaking of the ancient air conditioner in the window, nor did the roaches that scurried out of view when he turned on the bathroom light. This place was such an upgrade to what he’d been living with, it felt like the Ritz. He took one of the longest showers he’d ever taken, groaning with relief at the warm water and the clean feeling of his skin when he’d slathered it with soap. 

He gave his hair a proper wash, the first in many weeks, and felt just how long it’d grown. He ran his fingers through his hair and remembered your fingers in his hair, scratching his skull and tugging at his curls. He remembered your mouth on his neck, and your moans in his ear, and before he could stop his thoughts, he was half hard in the shower. He refused to touch himself and give any merit to those thoughts of you, that his traitorous body was enjoying.

What he should have been thinking about is not what happened last time you caught him, but what might happen if you catch him again. He knows you’re crazy. He thinks you’re like him, at least that’s what you said. And if you’re anything like him, then he knows you’re very dangerous. He tried many times to search for you with the limited clues he had, using his data on his prepaid phone. But with almost nothing to go on, any attempt at getting additional information about you had been futile.

After a week of sleeping in scratchy sheets and listening to the sink drip all hours of the day, he’s ready to move on. He didn’t just stop somewhere for the relative comforts. He stopped somewhere in order to stop running. He wanted to stand still for a time, to see if you would pop up behind him. He wondered if he could catch your scent on the wind, sense any sign of you approaching. It was a week of silence, of stillness, of nothing. It was a week of peace.

His next weeks of travel took him to remote towns along back roads. He didn’t spend more than a couple nights in each place, but he was able to replenish his canned food stash, wash clothes at a laundromat, do some repairs on his truck, and replace some of his hunting and camping supplies that had worn out with use. He even splurged and got himself a new tent, the old one having sprung a leak a week before he stopped using it.

The pressure to stay hidden starts to lift off his shoulders. He feels less like a frightened baby gazelle being stalked by a lioness. He doesn’t feel the need to constantly check over his shoulder, fearing the ghost of your hot breath on the back of his neck. He is careful but he’s more relaxed. He decides to stick by the Gulf of Mexico, and travels between four states now, repeating stops in little out-of-the-way towns. He sees familiar faces, but finds that it benefits him.

In another life he was handy, taught by his dad to build things, to fix them, to take them apart and put them back together. He has struck up a deal with some of the motel owners to do some minor repairs when he stays there, in exchange for a reduced rate. He doesn’t have to go more than a week now without a hot shower. He helps repair machines at the laundromats in exchange for free laundry services, so now he doesn’t have to re-wear dirty clothes. 

Several food markets give him boxes full of dented cans and near-expired products. He may wait until he looks dirty and unkempt enough and stop by these places to give them the impression that he’s struggling and homeless. It very well may be a working ruse, but it also might not be a total ruse. He kind of is struggling and homeless, thanks to you. It’s been almost two months of this routine. He still uses fake IDs, pays in cash, and doubles back when driving well-worn roads.

To further conserve his cash supply, he alternates between stopping at the motels and camping on public land. If he’s honest with himself it’s also not just about saving money. He isn’t ashamed to admit that he enjoys the amenities that the cheap little roadside stops provide as compared to the backwoods camping he endures, but his urges start to creep up on him when he’s around people for too long. Sticking himself in a tent all alone in the middle of the woods keeps him from killing anyone.

One afternoon last month he entered a small room in a dump outside of Lafayette, LA, where the guest complained the door wouldn’t lock properly. Without even needing the masterkey, he entered the empty room and was overwhelmed with the feminine smell that hit him immediately. An open suitcase laid on the bed, items of clothing draped along the side. A bottle of perfume, hand lotion, and lip gloss sat on the dresser next to the TV. Each item his eyes landed on was more tempting than the last. 

How badly he wanted to snatch a piece of clothing, to pocket the perfume, to leave the lock unfixed so he could return to the room later and put his hands around the throat of the woman who was staying there. It took every ounce of self control to only fix the lock and leave empty-handed. He couldn’t give into his urges. He couldn’t draw any attention. He couldn’t risk you hearing about his lapse in judgment.

He checked out of the hotel that very day and drove into Mississippi to escape the scent of the room with the now-fixed lock. You were on his mind the entire drive. He hadn’t thought about you that much in a long time. But as he laid in his tent in the growing dark, his mind was consumed by you. He couldn’t remember what you smelled like, but he imagined. He barely got the chance to touch your skin last time, but he fantasized. He definitely recalled what you felt like; the weight of you bouncing on his lap, the wetness of your tight cunt. Your moans played on repeat in his mind as he, not for the first time, fucked his fist while dreaming of fucking you again. 

The moniker little bird passes his lips as his cum spills over his hand, and he wonders if this delusion will ever come true. Will he get to fuck you again? Will he want to? Will you want to? What will happen if you catch him? Sex might be the last thing on your mind. You’re fucking crazy. You might just kill him. He might not even see it coming.

Yesterday he was working on the back of a dryer in a laundromat and he listened as a young man, trying to impress a young lady, explained how he was traveling alone in an old cargo van across the country to the grand canyon. He listened to this man confess everything you don’t want a stranger to know, only to have the girl giggle and walk away, excusing herself while admitting that she doesn’t speak English very well. 

Joel took almost three hours to repair the dryer because he spent so much time kneeled behind it planning a way to inconspicuously kill the young idiot without alerting you or the authorities as to his activities. By the time he had a plan in place and emerged from behind the appliances, the young man was gone. He allowed common sense to return to him before he could run outside to seek the camper out, and carry out his desire for blood.

And that is how Joel finds himself setting up his tent again, this time in the Florida Panhandle. He has once again had to run away from his urges, which grow stronger with each passing week. It’s been almost five months since you left him in that rented storage garage and almost six months since he killed anyone. He hasn’t gone this long between kills in a very long time. He likes to think of himself as methodical and controlled, even though you called his cabin disgusting and implied he was sloppy. 

But he has self control. He doesn’t kill on a whim, he plans it. He keeps it discreet. No cop has ever come knocking on his door. No one at all has. Except you. Even if you picked berries in his yard instead of knocking, you knew what you were doing. You were hunting him. He had no idea. He thought you were alone. He thought you were scared. He thought you were weak. He thought he was in control. How wrong he was.

And how wrong he is now. How wrong he’s been to have stopped looking over his shoulder. How wrong he’s been to let himself get comfortable with his surroundings. How wrong he’s been to ever doubt that you could catch up to him. Because as he turns around to reach for the rainfly to his tent, there you stand. Hands on your hips at the tailgate of his truck, smiling.

“Hi honey.”

*****

You watch him intake a quick breath, his face falling in dismay, his pupils dilating. It’s so obvious how hard he’s trying not to look at his rifle, which sits on the tailgate behind you, partially covered up by his tent’s rainfly. He makes a quick calculation as his brows knit on his forehead and you see him twitch forward an inch.

“Watch it now honey,” you point one finger to your hip, tilting your pelvis to display the 8” knife hanging from your belt. He freezes again and eyes the knife, then rolls his eyes. He must recognize it. You took it from his truck almost five months ago.

“Looks a little familiar,” he huffs.

“Does it? I had to replace the one I used to have…. left it somewhere a while back,” and you nod towards his leg. He winces, then looks at you for a moment before a cocky smile settles on his face. There’s that shit-eating grin you missed.

“I got myself a new one too,” and he tilts his own hip, showing off the sheathed knife hanging from his belt loop. “It’s ten inches.”

Your eyes go wide in a mocking display and you tsk your tongue against your teeth. “Oh honey, haven’t you heard? It’s not about size…. it’s about knowin’ what to do with it.”

His smile turns ugly. He’s feeling confident. He slowly reaches his hand back as he takes a step forward, muttering, “oh trust me I know what to do with it.”

You quickly reach your hand back into your waistband and grab the small revolver out, pointing it at him with a smile. “This look familiar too?” You ask him, mockingly, watching as he once again freezes in place. His smile is gone, replaced by an annoyed look as he registers that the gun you now have aimed at him also once belonged to him.

“You don’t really look happy to see me, honey.”

“Should I be?”

“Well the way we left things, I just thought you were gonna be missin’ me a lot more.” He is frozen still, watching you wide-eyed, struggling to find the words that will piss you off the least. He kind of looks scared shitless, this is amazing. He looks down for a moment and when he meets your eyes again, his whole face has softened.

“I did miss you sweetheart.”

There he is, there’s your charmer. You can’t help the smile that flashes across your face.

“Oh you did? You missed me?”

“All the time,” he nods slowly. “Every single day,” he adds. Now he’s pushing it. You try not to roll your eyes. You don’t want to be a brat after all this time apart.

“What’d you miss about me?”

Silence. Too long of a pause. He holds his breath and then begins to stutter something out. It’s too late. You’ve caught his lie.

“You didn’t miss me you fuckin’ liar. You’ve been runnin’ away from me for months,” you seethe.

“Runnin’ away was the point sweetheart,” he attempts to soothe you. “This game we’re playin’. Me: Mouse, You: Cat. That’s the game, right?” 

Maybe he has a point. It still annoys you. Maybe it even hurts your feelings a little. Feelings?

“I just thought you’d be sufferin’ more than you seem to be,” you try not to sound whiny.

“I’ve been so busy sweetheart,” he coos.

“Busy?”

“Busy tryin’ to stay two steps ahead of yo-” 

You can’t even help the laugh that bursts out of you. You clap your empty hand over your mouth but it’s too late. He’s got his face scrunched up, watching you too closely. Oops. You might as well tell him.

“That’s what you’ve been busy doin’? Is that what you think?”

The crease between his eyes deepens, his body settling into his stance while also visibly tensing up. He’s bracing for your next sentence. 

“Were you two steps ahead of me washin’ your laundry in that creek in Wyoming?” He’s holding his breath. “Or what about when you finally came back to civilization in Arkansas? Man, you really needed that shower. You stunk to high heaven!” His eyes look like they could pop out of his head. “How many steps ahead of me did you think you were in Mississippi, when you got in your tent, turned off your lantern, and whispered little bird into the dark?”

“What the fuck?!?” he gasps out, expression wild. “What th- How long- Did-,” he can’t even think of what question to ask first. “Was I ever even one step ahead of you?” he says through clenched teeth.

You just shrug your shoulders, trying your best to hide your smile, fully enjoying his realization and subsequent freakout.

“I shoulda fuckin’ known you weren’t gonna play fair,” he’s shaking his head, scowling.

“The fuck you mean by that? Play fair?”

“You always had the upper hand. You haven’t been playin’ fair. AGAIN.”

You mockingly frown at him. “If I wasn’t playin’ fair then why didn’t I just hide under your bed and kill you when you went home?” Men always have something to fucking complain about.

“I dunno. Probably has to do with the fact you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

What the fuck did he just say? Your right eye twitches. Your fingers tighten on the revolver.

“You had all the advantages,” he continues. “You had my first and last name, my home address, and my fuckin’ cellphone. I don’t even know your first nam-”

“And whose fuckin’ fault is that?” you interrupt, absolutely livid.

He snaps his eyes to yours, noting your tone. “I-”

“You never asked me my fuckin’ name did you?” you snarl.

“I-”

“You didn’t. Never asked. It was all wham, bam, thank you ma’am.” you glower.

“That’s not exactly how I remember it goin’ down,” he mutters under his breath.

“What’s my fuckin’ name?” you take a step forward, white-knuckle gripping the gun now.

His eyes flicker between yours and the revolver in your hand.

Your eyes bore into his, growing wider and wider. His mouth opens and then shuts, his pupils fully dilated. He swallows loudly, the only sound he makes.

“Get in the fuckin’ truck,” you growl, pointing towards the passenger side with the gun.

He stiffly marches to the passenger side and plops himself on the seat, pulling the door closed once seated. You raise your leg and stop the door from closing with your foot.

“Wait a fuckin’ minute cowboy,” you mock. You grab handcuffs out of your back pocket with your free hand, the other still pointing the revolver at him. You toss him the handcuffs and warn him, “make ‘em tight, this ain’t my first rodeo.” He clicks them into place and then you double check them, giving each a couple more clicks until the metal is digging into his wrist bones. 

Slamming the door closed and walking around the back, your arm sweeps his rainfly and his rifle off the tailgate onto the ground. You close and lock the back up, and round the truck to the driver’s side door. You look in through the window and make eye contact with him, his face expressionless. You know that getting into a small space with him is dangerous even if he’s handcuffed. Better not to have a gun for him to grab.

Well below the window and out of his eye-line, you flip the revolver open and let the loaded bullets fall into the grass. You flip it closed and tuck it back in your waistband at the small of your back. Opening the door, you climb in the driver’s seat. You hope he thinks it’s still loaded. Part of you even hopes he reaches for it, so you can punish him for his indiscretion.

He lied about missing you. He didn’t seem to be suffering without you. He looked like he was having fun playing cub scout in the woods. He called you crazy. He said you weren’t playing fair. He’s acting like a fucking victim when you gave him 21 weeks and 3 days more to live than you had originally planned. What an ungrateful fucking asshole. He has ruined this reunion.

*****

You drive in silence, which he takes as a bad sign. He can vaguely hear you grumbling under your breath through clenched teeth and see you white-knuckle gripping the steering wheel. He thought he had you calm for a minute back there. He was smiling, you were smiling, things were looking up. And then he said something that pissed you off, right about when he said you weren’t playing fair. He’d insulted you and now you were taking him somewhere, probably to kill him.

He thinks about grabbing the wheel, about grabbing his knife, about going for the gun he’s pretty sure is back in your waistband. But he knows you have the knife on your left side and probably a syringe hidden somewhere waiting to stab him with if he makes the wrong move. He sits in silence during the short drive and feels slight relief when you pull his truck up to a cabin, smoke billowing out of the chimney. This is better than what he was expecting - a six foot hole in the ground.

You park the truck right outside the cabin’s front door, exit the vehicle and head inside, front door slamming behind you. You’ve left him out in the truck alone. He should run. But he’s handcuffed, and you have his truck keys. What did you do with his rifle? He slowly exits the truck cab and shuts the door as quietly as possible, watching for movement at the cabin’s door. He heads to the back of the truck and quickly realizes you’ve locked both the tailgate and the bed cap’s door closed. Looking through the windows he doesn’t see his rifle and assumes you left it at his campsite. 

He might be willing to run for it with these handcuffs still on but he can’t leave everything in this truck and take off with no weapon at all. You’d catch him again in no time. He can’t run, he has nowhere else to go. He has to go inside the cabin, which of course you already knew and is the reason why you didn’t bother to drag him inside or babysit him until he came in.

He walks inside the front door and you immediately shout “SHOES!” His feet shuffle as he skids to a stop. You’re less than six feet away, at the sink of the small kitchen, not even bothering to turn and look at him. He toes his dirty boots off at the door as he looks around the small cabin, assessing the layout. To his left is a small couch, chair, and wood burning stove. Beyond the small sitting area is probably a bathroom and at the back of the cabin he sees a bunk bed through the open door.. On his right is the tiny kitchenette and directly in front of him sits a small dining table. 

He can’t help but notice that sitting on top of the otherwise empty table is the small, shiny revolver. He can’t help but notice it because it’s glaringly obvious. It’s clearly not an accident. You left that there for him to see as soon as he entered the cabin, turning your back to entice him into grabbing it, probably so you could shoot him with a different gun you have tucked into your waistband now. It’s such an obvious trap, he’s actually insulted that you think he’s that stupid. 

“Come ‘ere,” you snap, grabbing his attention.

He waits a beat but shuffles towards you, your back still turned. When he comes up behind you, you turn around, a knife in your hand. He flinches slightly and hopes you don’t notice. It’s a paring knife. You’re peeling potatoes. Knife still in your right hand you grab onto his handcuffs, pulling his arms up in front of him. You reach into your pocket with your other hand and produce the handcuff key, unlocking them without a word. 

He resists the urge to rub at his wrists where the metal has been digging into his bones. You point towards the back, at the door he assumes is the bathroom, and then turn back to the sink. You still aren’t speaking. You must still be pissed but at least he’s still alive. He won’t test your patience. He heads into the bathroom and quietly closes the door behind him, noticing a cardboard box sitting on the toilet. 

Inside the box is a change of clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, and shaving supplies. He recognizes all of them as items you stole from his home all those months ago. He showers, shaves, changes, and takes a deep breath to steel himself as he exits the bathroom. You remain at the kitchen sink, the gun remains on the table.

He stands just outside the bathroom, able to see the entire cabin from his vantage point. Behind him is the bedroom, bunk bed on one side of the room and a double bed on the other. He can’t help but notice his old pillow on the unmade side of the double bed, presumably where you’ve been sleeping. The larger room in front of him is filled with the smell of dinner, a large stockpot simmering on the stove.

He slowly makes his way into the kitchen, looking into the pot and seeing a creamy stew, green flecks rolling along the surface as it gently bubbles. He approaches you timidly and sees you’re still armed with a paring knife, slicing strawberries now. He takes a risk and places his hands on your hips. You still your movements, but don’t move to stop him. 

He’s pretty sure you have a weapon stashed somewhere. He slowly moves his hands along your hips towards your belly button. No gun tucked in the front. He presses the front of his body up against the back of yours. He hopes it’s not obvious that he’s checking for a weapon at your back now. He feels nothing but your hair tickling his nose. He inhales. You smell like a campfire. 

He presses his nose deeper into the back of your head and inhales again. He faintly smells the shampoo from the shower. He realizes he’s still gripping you at your stomach and pulling you into him while pressing himself into you. He also notices his growing erection is pressed against you, digging into your ass. You haven’t resumed your strawberry slicing but you haven’t stabbed him either, which is a surprise.

He lets go of his squeezing grip of you and puts his hands chastely back on your hips. He waits while you slowly resume your preparation of the last of the strawberries. Impulsively, he moves his head to the side of yours and noses around the shell of your ear, his freshly shaved face brushing against your cheek. He can’t stop himself from inhaling again, memorizing your scent.

Suddenly losing all control, he closes his eyes, kissing just below your ear and slowly down your neck. A part of his brain tells him to keep checking for weapons and so he moves one hand up to cup your breast and the other hand down, fingers dipping below your waistband. He hears the clatter of the knife being dropped in the sink and his eyes snap open, you turn in his arms to face him. You gently push him backwards, his arms dropping back to his sides.

“Dinner’s ready,” as you nod to the table, an obvious instruction to sit down.

You ladle the stew from the pot on the stove into two bowls, setting one down in front of him and the other down in front of you. You drop a spoon in each bowl and sit down across from him, the revolver now serving as the meal’s centerpiece. He still won’t look at it, knowing it’s a trap. You bring a spoonful to your lips, blowing on the steaming liquid.

“Eat,” you order, your eyes not leaving his.

He grabs the spoon and mimics you, blowing on the steaming soup before taking a loud slurp. It’s very hot. You’re still watching him. What even is this? He thought you were going to kill him but instead you brought him here. What are you doing? You made him shower. You implied he should shave. You cooked him dinner. He swallows another burning spoonful. Are you playing house? What the fuck is going on?

This is just part of your game. You’re fucking crazy. 

You’re still blowing on the spoon in front of your face, watching him. He lifts another spoonful to his lips, and freezes. You haven’t put that spoon in your mouth. You’re just staring at him, watching him eat. He looks down, past his spoon, into the bowl. What is this? What is he eating? He looks back to you, your eyes still boring into his own, still gently blowing on your spoon.

“Eat your dinner,” you bark, “little bird,” you quietly add.

What. 

Is. 

This?

*****

NEXT PART: The Chase (Part 2)

**CABIN LAYOUT POST IF YOU'RE A VISUAL PERSON LIKE ME**

[casual-praxis]

Rivers in the Desert [Rainbow Ranch AU]

Summary: Panicking is not an option, but man--Shadow kinda wishes it was. With only a vague location, a distress signal, and the dawning realization that time is waning; what do you even do when the resident desert expert goes missing in said desert?

Warnings: Swearing (thanks Blue), blood and injury (though not to a graphic extent), and depictions of what may be a panic attack. Please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4,301

--Start--

Today is the day, he's sure of it. Chat may be doubting him, but he's never felt more confident as he dances around the edges of the corrals, swinging his phone around precariously on a makeshift selfie stick.

The sound of mini-small-scale nukes, out-of-tune music boxes, and unbridled cheer is quick to bombard his microphone, but a quick adjustment of his audio puts an end to the horrid peaking issues. Or at least, he thinks it does. He really can't tell.

Oh well. It's probably fine.

"Alright y'all, listen up!" Shadow grins into the camera, holding it steady as his eyes subtly dart over his other equipment. "Today we're goin' hikin' through the Moss Blanket. There's a Gordo there who owes me money and it's had it too good for too long. So I'm gonna go poke it with a stick and see what it do."

Behind him, a pair of Red's Boom Rad Slimes leap with delight over his theatrics, despite not knowing what 'owing money' meant. He quickly covers his ear closest to the corral as the slimes, true to their nature, promptly explode.

Chat reacts accordingly, and he watches the small monitor on his wrist flood ten times over with multicolored words of all varieties. Some were encouraging, some near deaf, and some were thirsting over Blue, but that was neither here nor there. Par for the course, honestly.

He shakes it off easily.

That is, until his monitor beeps a cheerful, "da-da-da-daaaa" and promptly spits out a lovingly rude message about his navigation skills in its smug robotic voice.

Jostling the stick around for a new angle, nearly whacking it into the side of a corral post, he glares into the camera while walking backward.

"Hey now, bitch, I will turn this hike right back 'round if you don't ditch that cringe take," he says flippantly, raising a clawed, glove-bound finger to his viewers. "For serious--I know where you live."

More messages flood in, most of which are buried under waves of emote spamming and text-to-speech chatter, all the while Shadow slowly zooms the camera in on his face. Just to annoy them. No cute slime content for the traitors.

They had to earn that privilege back.

Preferably through donations, and lots of begging.

Maybe he'd even film the ground the whole way just to really drive the point home...

Either way, things were already off to a well-rehearsed start. A few more minutes of banter and they'd be on their way. This was expected. This was normal.

So you can probably forgive him for not immediately noticing when his communicator went off. The vibrating is faint, barely noticeable among the jittery movement he was already prone to. It took him a moment of nearly walking into roaming hen-hens and tripping on stray plorts before it finally registered.

He holds up a hand to the camera as if to say 'just a moment,' before digging around in his hoodie pocket for said source of intrigue. Out comes a phone-sized device most of his chat had never seen before, bright in color and pinging a soft chime.

"Huh. Well, that ain't good," Shadow mumbles, more so to himself than anyone else. His gaze flickers back up, almost nervously, and he laughs a half-hearted excuse. "Sorry y'all, we're gonna have to rain check this."

His chat isn't able to sway him for any further details as he speeds through his usual farewell spiel, hurrying through the motions of shutting down his broadcast and rushing back to the house. His normally relaxed and bouncy gait is swapped out right alongside his stream gear, left at the front door as he leaps down the steps back into the ranch. He can worry about it later.

Green is right where Shadow had last seen him, still standing off to the left side of the ranch, staring at their coop with mild exasperation and a defeated slump to his posture. His ear twitches at Shadow's approach, head tilting ever so slightly in his direction.

"Change of plans?" Green asks.

Shadow skids to a stop, kicking up dirt as he slides, prompting Green to sidestep to avoid it. That gets his full attention. Observant emerald irises pin him immediately, radiating concern (along with trace amounts of actual radiation, but that wasn't important).

"Problem?" Green not so subtly gives him a cursory once over, frowning when it didn't reveal the issue right away. Shadow would have made a joke about it, but now really wasn't the time.

Lifting his communicator up, he waves it obnoxiously--as if Green needed any prompting. "Distress ping from Vio."

Green's posture changes at that.

"Any details?" He asks, keeping his jaw set; standing a little straighter.

"Nah." Shadow turns the communicator back to himself, staring at it almost forlornly. "Just the ping."

Green's hand finds Shadow's shoulder, startling him from his worries before they could spiral. His eyes reflect back the same concern, but a small, reassuring smile is beginning to work its way onto Green's face, and he squeezes lightly.

"No worries, Vio knows how to handle himself." Green's eyes flicker off to one side briefly, and he raises his unoccupied hand to make the nearly universal 'come here' gesture, before returning his attention to Shadow. "We know his location, and our Firefly should be somewhere around the Ancient Ruins right about now. I'll shoot him a message and get him moving in that direction, kay?"

Shadow can only nod as another arm winds around his shoulders from behind, pulling him back against a much firmer chest. Green huffs out a laugh as Blue rests his chin against the top of Shadow's head, paying no mind to Shadow's near squawk of outrage and futile struggle.

"Sup?" Blue raises an eyebrow, tightening his grip on Shadow even as he begins trying to gnaw his arm. He covers Shadow's mouth with his free hand and a hissed, "fuckin' stop that."

Green lifts a finger as he pulls out his communicator, leaving Blue in the dark a little longer. The sound of flurried typing echoes over the bawks of the hen-hens, and Blue sticks his own fingers into Shadow's mouth in response to having his hand licked.

"We have--don't gag him--a situation," Green finally illuminates, clipping the device back to his belt.

"Good situation, bad situation? Blue asks, finally relinquishing Shadow's freedom to wipe the spit off his fingers.

Green's expression does something complicated. "A not good one."

"VeVe S.O.S'd," Shadow coughs.

"Seriously?"

"Red's en route, I'm going to meet him at our Desert teleporter. We should be able to find Vio within the hour, assuming he stayed within his intended radius." Green nods to himself, starting off towards the lab.

"And if he didn't?" Blue calls after. Shadow looks at him sharply.

Green pauses in his stride, inclining his head up in thought, before continuing at a slower pace. "In that case, it may take a little longer."

"Even with Red's help?" Shadow questions.

"He doesn't know the Desert like V does," Blue points out, moving to follow Green. "He told me he's been there like, maybe three times total. And one of those times he just sucked faces with V instead of exploring."

Shadow titters, jogging to catch up. The other's longer legs made for an unfair advantage, but the hurried march made sense. Blue glances between the pile of tech in front of the house and Shadow as they go by, but keeps his mouth shut and allows it to pass without comment.

By the time they make it to Vio's lab, Shadow's nerves are starting to fray once more. The yellow teleporter ("It's butterscotch!" Red would insist), loomed just outside the open doors to the building, allowing the fluorescent lighting to spill out onto the dry ground. It looks oddly empty, without their resident scientist mulling around inside.

Something about that thought made Shadow's insides twist.

"Are you guys coming too?" Green asks, a bit redundantly, given he already knew the answer. Shadow nods without hesitation, stepping up alongside him to face the teleporter.

"I need to grab something first." Blue doesn't wait for any responses. Ducking into the lab, shuffling boxes and metal dragging on metal faintly fills the otherwise still air.

Once he reemerges, Shadow briefly catches sight of something small being slipped into Blue's belt pouch, but he's quickly distracted again by Green stepping onto the teleporter. In a flash of brilliant gold, Green disappears, and Shadow isn't slow to follow.

The sun immediately begins to glare down on him from the other side, and he yelps, ducking behind Green in a fruitless attempt at shelter. Green chuckles despite the situation, and wordlessly readjusts to properly shield Shadow from the worst of the rays.

Blue appears shortly thereafter, raising one hand to block the light from his vision as he looks out across the shifting sand. He gives it a good once over, before dropping his hand and turning to Green. "The fuck are we?"

"North of the Warp Station, silly!" The three jostle slightly, turning just in time to see Red come bounding across the uneven terrain like it was nothing. His shoes barely even seem to sink in the sand as he draws closer, hopping onto a fallen pillar of some sort before kicking off with his hands outstretched in Green's direction.

To his credit, Green didn't stumble as he caught Red in his arms, spinning them both with the momentum as Red's infectious laughter began to spread. He places Red down--only for him to dart over to Blue, hugging him tightly and nuzzling his shoulder.

Shadow blinks, and Red materializes in front of him next, lacing their fingers together as he leans forward to peck him on the lips. It was chaste, barely enough to even feel, but the warmth behind it was enough to chase away the twisting anxiety that had wedged itself between his ribs, if only for a moment.

He tugs Red back to him as he tries to slip away, pressing their lips more firmly together and smothering Red's laughter between them. It's hardly enough; the warmth much too addicting, but he knows better than to push for any more.

Green's amused ahem backs up that decision.

Shadow pulls away, noting with smug satisfaction that Red tries to follow. And that smug energy only shifts to humor once Blue snags Red around the waist, dragging him into their own barely contained kiss. Making eye contact with Green, Shadow smirks playfully, and Green can only sigh.

"If we're all done making out with Red now," Green starts, clapping his hands to get their attention, "we do kinda have a reason for being out here if you'll recall."

Red pushes at Blue's shoulders, leaning backward in his arms to stare at Green from upside down. "I don't recall, actually. What're we doin' again?

"You didn't fill him in?" Blue intoned, letting go of Red completely and dropping him into the sand. Shadow only felt a little bad snickering at Red's exaggerated 'oof'.

"Hey, I didn't exactly have time to explain in detail," Green defends, though he does concede to Blue's glare, lowering his head slightly. "I figured I could explain as we go. It'll be faster that way."

Red jumps to his feet, brushing the sand from the folds of his pants with a tilt of his head. "If that's the case, then let's go! Where to?"

"West of the center point. Know where that is?"

Red hums, bounding past Green and towards an arch in the landscape's natural mountains. He stops before he gets too far, turning back to stare at them expectantly.

"If we're just heading in a direction, then I can probably lead us," Red explains, "but landmarks are finicky. I don't think anythin' actually has a name out here. Vi said no to all my suggestions."

"Right, well that's better than nothing." Green shares a look between Blue and Shadow, stepping forward and nearly stumbling as his boot takes on sand. "Let's--ah, talk while we walk. We still don't have a full scope of the situation, but we're hoping..."

Shadow stares after them as they begin to drift away, bumping shoulders with Blue as he moves past. It's clear from the proximity that Blue intends to stay close, likely as a preventative measure to keep him from wandering off. And he can appreciate that. After all, the last thing they need right now is two missing people.

He hopes Green has finished explaining by the time they catch up. Shadow's own anxiety about the situation had reached a tolerable simmer thanks to Red's bubbly aura, but he wasn't sure what would happen should that aura pop.

Thankfully, Red was the kind of guy to take everything in stride.

Everything would be fine.

They'd explain things to Red, he'd lead them to Vio, and Vio would be fine. Maybe it was just a misclick. Maybe they'd find him wandering about and he'd have no idea they were even concerned in the first place.

Vio would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

----

Everything was not fine.

Everything was so not fine.

They'd reached the area Vio was meant to be in without issue. Fairly straightforward. They had a vague idea of what to be looking out for, and the landmark was indeed very obvious, and just as Vio had described to Red the night before.

The actual problem was Vio not being there.

Sure, there were signs all around the isolated plateau that Vio had been up to something nearby. But none of it pointed to where he had gone, and to make matters infinitely worse, they had a brand new issue to contend with.

Apparently, the Glass Desert was named that for a very specific reason—one that, according to Red, was fast approaching and signaled by the dramatic uptick in heat.

So, yeah. By this point Shadow could safely say he hasn't been so stressed in literal years.

The plateau and its immediate surroundings were busts. Branching off was their only option, and that's how they found themselves in the stupid situation they are now: racing through unfamiliar territory in a frantic search for their missing link.

A lot of it's a blur.

Blue may have stayed back to check the sea (and Goddesses, he hopes Vio hadn't drowned), while Green had gone...somewhere else. And Red, well.

The speeds at which Red moves are difficult enough to keep up with even on more stable terrain, but with Shadow's shoes constantly sinking and sliding in the loose grains, he has no hope of keeping up.

He can only fall further and further behind as the impending fallout ticks closer and closer.

Firestorms were no joke.

Even the slimes, fearless as they may be in their element, tended to cower at the might of a solar anomaly, hiding away in crumbling ruins and under towering crystalline structures; existing testaments to the sheer intensity of the Desert.

And Vio was out here somewhere.

Lost, despite claiming this as his element.

Shadow couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong. Did he really misclick after all? Had a slime caught him unaware?

...was he safe?

Shadow's foot caught in the sand, sending him tumbling to the rough ground below as if to spite him. Hot tears jostle to the corners of his eyes, barely comparable to the arid heat wafting around him, and he balls his fists into the grains with a frustrated growl.

He pushes himself to his knees, scrubbing at his face with his jacket sleeves. Goddesses, he hates crying. He was going to kill Vio himself for worrying him so bad. The stupid...smart bastard better still be alive for him to follow through on that delirious vow, or so help him...

Climbing to his feet, Shadow made it another few steps forward before a shrill scream tore through his very core like lightning. Distressed, unintelligible; less a coherent word, never mind a name, but Shadow knew it all the same.

It carried on the wind, reverberating in his skull. He was moving before he even had time to fully process it. The high cliff walls around him blurred together as he stumbled through a winding, weathered path, fighting the drag of his own weight through the unforgiving sands.

When the sheer cliff faces began to subside, pulling away to let him breathe, he was met with a sharp drop down into a clearing. His heart was hammering in his chest as he wobbled forward, vertigo kicking in hard as he'd already pieced together what likely lay below.

Red's stuttering sobs bounced off the rocks, piercing through Shadow like jagged glass, tearing at his fragile composure. He staggers, dropping to his knees at the edge of the drop, unable to keep his balance.

He peers forward over the side.

He stops breathing.

There, splattered along the side of the dry rock, popping against the craggy orange stone...dotting Red's hands...as he cradles Vio's still form to himself.

Blood.

So much.

He couldn't breathe.

...was Vio breathing?

Numb, almost unresponsive fingers move to his communicator, unhelpfully mashing down the distress button over and over, and over, and over...

Where were the others? Red was crying, couldn't they hear him? They need help.

They need help. They need help.

Vio needs help.

"S--!"

Help.

"--dow!"

Help.

"Sh-dow!"

Help, someone-!

"Shadow!"

Fingers dig into his shoulder, tearing his gaze away from the scene and hiding his vision away in the crook of someone's neck. His breathing was ragged, choppy. So loud in his own ears. What...

"It's okay." Green's voice. Shaky, wet. "It's okay."

A hand found it's way into his hair, carding through it with unwavering care. Green. Green was here.

"Is-" Shadow's voice shook. "...Vio..."

Green lowers his chin onto Shadow's head, resting it on his hand for a moment. And for once, Shadow can't find it in himself to hate it.

"He's...okay," Green murmurs. "He'll be okay."

...okay.

"We need to go."

He doesn't wait for a reply. Shadow closes his eyes tightly against the harsh, red light of the Desert around them, burying his face further into Green's neck as he's lifted. The world shifts, the sound of a jetpack goes off, and Shadow's just lucid enough to wonder if Green had his vacpack this whole time.

The feeling of burning hot heat lasts for only a few minutes more, before the drone of a teleporter hums loudly in his ear, and his consciousnesss fades.

----

He should be dead right now.

Vio is aware enough to admit that.

Miscalculations are common enough in his particular field of study to be expected. Accidents happen, no matter how experienced you are, so it wasn't too surprising.

He knew the moment his foot missed the ledge and gravity took over that he was dead. The fall was survivable, sure, but all those collisions he had with the cliff-side on the way down? Astronomically less so. He was dead. So, so so dead.

The others were going to find his half-charred, slime-eaten body at the bottom of some random cliff and conclude he was actually a fucking dumbass. Goddesses, he hopes they skip the mourning process and just chuck his body into the sea.

At least then he'd still be attributing to science. He's still morbidly curious after all; do corpses float in the slime sea?

Questions for another time, he supposes. The fact he could even think at all was pointing toward a conclusion much more curious all its own.

He's still alive.

He really shouldn't be, and yet...hm.

His body feels numb. Moving is proving to be difficult, but that's never stopped him before and won't stop him now. Scrunching up his face, he forces his eyelids open with some effort, wincing at the glaringly familiar white ceiling above him. The blurriness slowly recedes as he blinks back to steady consciousness.

More and more of his surroundings come into focus. A soft weight on his left side, shifting gently out of sync with him; another person. Then, a different, more noticeable weight against the right side of his body, blowing light, warm air onto his neck; no doubt, yet another person.

His eyes slip closed again as he allows himself to just breathe.

Breathe.

He really should not be able to do that right now. Or ever again, actually. Not that he's complaining. Though it probably sounds as if he is. Still fairly curious about the slime sea, after all...

But no, he's...hm. Having trouble thinking.

"You done defragging yet, Windows Vista?"

Oh, he knows that voice.

"...luuue..." he slurs, tilting his head towards the source.

There's an irritated clicking noise, before a chair squeaks, and one of Vio's eyes is pried open. He instinctively squints against the feeling, a whole three seconds late.

"Fucking hell...you are concussed, damn it." Blue's blurry face twists into a scowl before he leans away again, momentarily revealing Shadow as the person lying on his right side, and then he's dropped back into darkness.

"Mmm n-n-naah," Vio glitches.

Blue scoffs again. "Mhm, yeah, no. Try again when you can say actual words."

"Sh--hn tr..ee," Vio tries again.

"That one didn't even make sense."

Dull pain blooms behind Vio's eyelids, and he whines low in his throat.

Hurts. It hurts. His muscles are fighting him, he can't lift his arms. He needs...he needs to...hm...?

"...we're gonna need to talk about this."

Pain--

Painpainpain--!

Vio's eyes shoot open, and he gasps, instinctively clenching his jaw as the pressure around his wrist registers. Shortly after, Blue's face comes into view, twisted into a grimace. He has one hand wrapped loosely over the deep purple bruise of skin Vio calls his right wrist, the other keeping him propped up over the side of the bed.

"Fuck," Vio mumbles, forcing his body to relax. It's the first coherent thing he's said in days, and Blue's not exactly happy about that. "Let go."

Blue doesn't have to be told twice.

"You aren't phasing anymore."

"So it would seem." Vio shuts his eyes once more. "Are the others asleep?"

"Have been for a few hours now." Blue leans back, causing the mattress to spring slightly once his weight is off it. "Green's out working through his stress, the idiot. These two just don't wanna leave you be."

Ah, so the other person is Red. That makes sense.

"Sorry," Vio says automatically, "I didn't mean to worry everyone."

Blue emanates the aura of someone rolling their eyes, and it's a little impressive he's able to communicate that so well to someone with their own eyes closed.

"Shut the fuck up. You have a lot more to apologize for than just that."

Vio reopens his eyes to level a blank stare at Blue.

"Don't look at me like that."

Vio squints.

"Or like that!"

A soft chuckle escapes Vio, only to be immediately chased down by a wince as his ribs protest loudly. He curses his low pain tolerance silently in his head as Blue sighs.

"You're injured, dumbass. Fell off a damn cliff apparently." Huh. That does sound familiar. "You really scared the hell out of these two when they found you."

Ah. No wonder they were clinging.

"Green's coming up with a whole lecture on group safety as we speak. No more Desert trips alone."

Vio raises an eyebrow at that. Or at least attempts to. "There's no way he can enforce that."

"Yeah, well, he won't be the only one." Blue crosses his arms and nods towards the two cuddled up to Vio's sides. "Good luck going anywhere without at least one attached to you."

Fair point. It wouldn't be the first time he's had them nipping at his heels wherever he went, though it has been a few years. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. He didn't remember minding it back then.

Then again, his research efforts might drop dramatically in productivity. Both could be distracting on their own, but together? He'd never get anything done.

He's lured from that particular conundrum as Blue abruptly stands, stretching his arms over his head with a groan. Vio would probably appreciate the sight more if he weren't concussed and struggling with complex thoughts.

"M'kay, well, I'm gonna go let Green know you're kinda lucid right now. Don't think you're getting out of that conversation later." Blue does a few more stretches to fully wake up his joints (just how long had he been sitting there?) before heading over to the door. Oh, this is his room; no wonder the ceiling looks familiar.

Blue pauses in the doorway, seeming to think something over, then turns back with a smug grin and a flippant wave. "Oh, and by the way, one of your teleporters is in the middle of fuckin' nowhere now. Sorry not sorry."

"Wait, what--?"

Blue cackles to himself as he leaves, completely aware of how Vio's attempt to sit up was barred by Shadow and Red 'conveniently' choosing that moment to wake up and tighten their holds on him.

And it was about at that point, where he was being smothered by his two more affectionate boyfriends, that Vio decided, yeah, actually, slime sea theory can wait a few more years.

Or ten.

Maybe thirty.

That conversation could be a future non-concussed Vio's problem, too.

This is nice.

He should fall off cliffs more often.

Or maybe not. He really should be dead right now.

He wonders how many realities in which he did die there. He wonders which reality is he. Is there a true Vio out there? What quantifies as a "Vio", anyway.

...he wonders where they put his bracelet.

He's starting to slip again.

--End--

Please feel free to tell me what y'all thought! I haven't written anything to completion in years so I'm still a bit rusty.

I intended to address Vio's bracelet more, and there was a whole extra plot thread I ended up cutting, but hopefully I'll get to those some other time. This was getting a bit long and I didn't want to lose motivation before I finished it. I'm placing this in dubiously au canon for now. We'll see if it still fits in as I expand the au.

Thanks so much for reading this far! Hopefully y'all liked it!

Here’s a bonus: the in-game map with some of my notes on it. In blue, the area where Vio was supposed to be. In purple, the area they actually found him.

I like to think in this AU, one of the others put that cartoony danger sign next to the cliff.

As requested: @zeldathusiast

It’s done! :D

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

Tricky with a mime!reader? Classic clown and mime but mime!reader has like actual mime powers. Tricky is confused but interested!

Oh this is so cute <3 i love clowns and mimes n stuff

Tricky x Mime!reader

Despite the world being a hellscape, there were pockets of quiet, times of peace tucked away in the briefest of moments, like now, for instance.

A small crowd had formed, a few of them tossing loose monies into your little donation box while you performed for them. A child was in the crowd, front and centre with awe in her eyes, it was incredibly rare to see one. The world just isn't safe enough for them.

Performing was such an art, movements so fluid, as though what you were doing was real, your spectators threw a little more monies as you pretended to get struck by lightning while flying a kite.

Shaking off the sparks in your system, you switched to something more calm for your final performance, it was getting late, and soon this peaceful area would be rife with vamps.

Bending down, you plucked a bouquet of flowers, deeply inhaling their scent, before turning and offering them to the child. She giggled, and reached out for the fake gift, but the moment it left your hands, it took on a physical form. She was holding a handful of varying white flowers, daisies, snowdrops, baby's breath, and a proud white rose in the middle.

Stars filled her eyes. "How'd you dO THAT?" She squealed, clinging tightly to the first flowers she'd seen ever.

A single gloved finger pressed to your lips and you winked at her, mime magic. Taking a bow, you began to mime packing away your things, in actuality putting away some very real items to you.

"KEEP GOING, CLOWN WAS HAVING FUN!" You dropped your money box, scattering a few loose coins and notes onto the ground. Turning to face what you hoped wasn't real, you locked eyes with the mangled zombie clown, shaking in his uncontrollable way as his body tried to get rid of the excess energy pooling from the drive in his brain.

Terror filled your veins, you shook your head, acting out a vampire creeping along, before biting you.

Tricky laughed, enjoying your performance. "CLOWN LOVES SEEING OTHER CLOWNS IN THE WILD. YOU'RE DIFFERENT TO CLOWN, BUT CLOWN LIKES IT." He drove his stop sign into the ground, sitting down crossed legged like a child, ready to watch and learn.

It was going to get very dangerous shortly, judging by the encroaching darkness, on the other hand, in front of you was arguably the biggest threat in Nevada.

You held a hand out, suddenly feeling your clothing get wet, and you pulled an umbrella from your bag, trying to keep yourself dry. Tricky laughed and clapped, he was having fun.

The rain soon stopped, and you picked another item to play with, a tiny tricycle which you struggled to get on, before wheeling around in a few circles, Tricky's laughter getting louder and ... slightly more human sounding, under the screeching chaos, a softer male laugh could be heard. Strange...

"DO THE FLOWER THING, CLOWN LIKED THAT!" He suddenly lunged forward, and you reflexively put your hands up, and Tricky slammed into the wall of your mime box. "OUCH! WHAT IS THIS??" His clawed hands patted on the hard surface.

You took a step back, and mimed being stuck in a box. "THOSE... ARE REAL WALLS???" He tilted his head to the left like a curious dog. "CAN YOU TEACH CLOWN TO DO THAT??" Shaking your head in reply, a firm no. Even if you could talk and tell him how you did it, you doubted it'd work.

"NOT FAIR, CLOWN WANTS TO DO THAT. CLOWN WOULD PUT HANK IN A BOX AND SHAKE HIM!" Tricky laughed again, his body shaking violently as his hysteric giggles took over. "CLOWN WOULD MAKE HANK A PULP!"

You carefully picked up your stuff, including the money you dropped, while Tricky was preoccupied. He was being just a little too unhinged for your liking right now, and it was getting dark fast, vamps would soon flood this area for an easy meal.

"DO YOU REALLY HAVE TO GO? CLOWN WANTS TO HANG OUT MORE." You nodded to him. "...CAN CLOWN SEE YOU AGAIN?" A smile crept over your face, and you nodded, gesturing around at the park, you'll be around here sometime.

"CLOWN LOOKS FORWARD TO IT! CLOWN LIKES OTHER CLOWN!"

Clown likes clown too.

[iluvchick3nz]

idk if you only write the cubs but I love your writing so much and would love to read some rookie Sirius and Dumo hurt comfort OR some Sirius and Hope Lupin hurt comfort. I feel like all the family time around holidays would be tough for him at first but then he find out he’s so loved ya know😩 thanks babes keep up the great content!!!

This is the SECOND ask for hurt/comfort Sirius and Hope Lupin. I wasn't planning on writing Coops or Sirius/Remus as main characters, but I am a SUCKER for a found family story. It warms my heart. PLUS, this one features the Black Brothers!

Thank you for the kind words, friend! Keep the prompts coming!

All credits to @lumosinlove !!

“Sirius, Regulus, could you come here for a second?”

Sirius looked up from where he was sat in the Lupin’s living room, on the couch with a cup of coffee and a photo album Hope had handed him. Remus, Julian, and Lyall had gone to get the family Christmas tree- something Julian had been very excited about- leaving himself and Regulus alone in the house with Remus’ mom. She was standing in the arched walkway that lead to the kitchen, and was glancing expectantly at the both of him. Regulus bookmarked his page and gingery set the novel down.

“Yeah, Mrs. Lupin?” he asked.

She waved her hand at him. “I told you to stop calling me that, honey. Hope is fine.” She jerked her head. “This way, come on. I need to watch my cakes, so may you please both come to the kitchen?”

It was still weird for the both of them, Sirius thought, to be asked to do things instead of told to do them. Sometimes there was that element, in the way Hope had firmly told Remus and Julian to shovel the snow that morning, but always with a layer of humor and love behind it. They always had a choice in everything, and Hope would never make them do things they never truly were comfortable doing. Remus and Julian were definitely capable, and even liked, shoveling snow- they’d just been a bit lazy and had protested doing it. But Hope had just raised her eyebrows at them, and sure enough, forty-five minutes later they had returned jostling one another, Julian stuffing a massive snowball down Remus’ back. Sirius had watched Regulus’ eyes follow them and was sure the same look was plastered on his own face; laughter had never really been all that common in their household.

They both stood and followed Hope into the kitchen, where she was monitoring what looked like some ginger cakes for the town Christmas dinner food drive she was donating to later that evening. She peeked into the oven, nodded in satisfaction, and then turned to them with a smile on her face. “Now,” she said. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Quoi?” Sirius asked. He and Regulus wore matching confused expressions. “You do?”

“Mmhm,” she said, as though it was obvious. She pointed to two boxes on the counter. Their names were written on little tags in cursive on the top. “Those are for you, dears.”

“Oh,” Regulus said. He looked a little out of place. “Thank you.”

“Go on, open them, I’m excited.”

Tentatively, they both reached for their respective boxes and lifted the lids. Inside each of them was a round wooden ornament with a red ribbon running through the top. And engraved in the otherwise flat surface was-

“The Leo constellation?”

“Canis Major?”

Regulus and Sirius both looked at each other simultaneously, realization dawning, and then at Hope.

“Oh,” Sirius said. “That’s us.”

“You’re right, sweetheart,” Hope answered gently. She leaned onto the counter on her forearms. “Every year, Re and Jules get a new ornament to decorate the Christmas tree with, and there’s a theme every year. I got you each one of those kind this year, too, but I figured you needed some to start with. Re and Jules each got ones carved with their birth flower when they were born, and I thought- well, I thought that your constellations would fit you. The brightest star in the sky, and the heart of the Lion, yes?”

“Yeah,” Regulus said. His voice was soft and his face red, but he looked Hope right in the eye. “Thank you. Thank you.” 

And in a fashion very unlike himself, he walked around the counter and straight into Hope’s arms. 

“Oh,” Hope laughed, surprised, but she squeezed him tightly back. “Oh, you’re welcome, honey. You’re so welcome.” 

Sirius watched his brother, his not-so-baby brother, fold himself, perhaps for the first time, in a loving mother’s embrace, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to hug Regulus, to hug Hope, to hug Lyall and Julian and Remus. He wanted to be a part of this family forever, wanted to take Reg with him. When Hope and Regulus parted, he didn’t know what he must have looked like, but when Hope came around the counter all he could do was fall into her arms. He was much taller and weighed more, but she somehow made him feel tiny and precious in her embrace. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, this means so much. You have no idea.”

“No, I don’t,” she replied, frank as always. “But I hope you never will have to have any idea ever again.”

Sirius squeezed her tight and caught his brother’s eye over her shoulder. Regulus nodded, a small, tiny thing, and he knew: this was what a forever home felt like. 

[alexandraisyes]

How are you doing?

Do you want an honest answer or a watered down haha cutesy artist answer?

I could be worse, to put it simply. It’s been a very. . . Excitable week. And month. And life.

I’m dealing with medication withdrawals that will last another month. They have me sicker than a dog right now, physically at least. My mental stamina is fine, it’s definitely been worse in the more recent past. I’m making a pretty good stress recovery from the past three months of harassment from varying sources, but there is no rest for the wicked.

I’m about 95% positive that I’m being actively stalked by someone from the whole August fiasco, someone who I’ve had blocked since the beginning of August. A (former) friend of mine that I had met through the rp blogs I did designs for turned out to be a sexual predator who was grooming the minors in said group, and I recently had to cut them off after confronting them about it. So that’s great. Both of these things are giving me mild stress, especially because neither of these people know when the fuck to quit and have a long history of stalking and harassment.

However, I’m finally writing again. I’m trying to get back on my current projects, as well as the newer project I’m working on. I’ve completed some commissions, I’ve made a couple self indulgent artworks, and even some art for friends. So I’m being productive.

I’m finally back to watching the shows, although this migraine the past few days has put a rather sudden pause on that. Hopefully I can get back on schedule within the next couple of days. I’m once again finding enjoyment in taking them apart too, which is always a good sign. A large part of why I went on a sudden hiatus was due to the harassment the past few months, but I’ve had some sense knocked into me about the matter by my everlasting and ever loving parents that had me seriously questioning why I was letting it affect me to the point I couldn’t function?

I moved back in with my parents last month. I haven’t fully unpacked, my executive function has been lacking when it comes to sorting boxes. Especially since the last time I was here it was only for a month before I had a fight with my folks and had no option but to leave. However we’re reaching that one month mark so fingers crossed that history won’t repeat itself.

In all honesty it’s been going a lot smoother than I expected. I’ve done a lot of yard work while I job hunt, and so I’ve been left relatively alone and to my own devices since I’m sacrificing so much of my time to clean up the property. It’s been a good distraction, and I’ll be honest I needed the vitamin D.

Unfortunately I’m running out of things to do around the property to prepare for winter. No more Vitamin D for me. Probably for the best, I don’t want to burn out.

Speaking of jobs, I have one now. I need to go in tomorrow and turn in the hiring paperwork, and then yippee I will have a steady source of income. It’ll probably only be part-time pay, but that’s okay. A job is a job.

I managed to reach my goal for donations, thanks to my friends and this wonderful community. All of my bills have been secured, with a little excess that I’ll use to buy new pants for work (can’t go in pantless). I cannot be more grateful to this community for handing together to help me reach my goal so I can afford to keep doing things like drive (which is extremely necessary when you live in the middle of rural countryside) and live in a house (as much as my parents love me I do have to pay rent since my dad is disabled and cannot support the family anymore).

My social life is fine. I’ve made a lot of close friends over the past few months, misery loves company and all of that. It’s ironic how we were all more or less strangers to each other, and yet these series of events have made us extremely tight nit as a little online village. I’ve made quite a few new friends too, just by being obnoxious. It is what I do best after all.

There isn’t a really an easy answer to questions like this when you have a busy life. I could just say “oh I’m fine” but that’s not honest. That’s not transparent or real, and I try to be both of those things. I’m not entirely sure what “fine” would look like, and by society’s standards I’m definitely not fine in any fashion. But we all make do with the hands we’ve been dealt.

I’ve become extremely close friends with a malignant narcissist (short term would be narcopath) and I find their presence a comfort. I continue to work on projects with friends, and abstain from creating new ones. I’ve caught up on a few different fanfics while I’ve been sick these past couple of days, and that’s always nice. I’m trying to do my best to give back to the community what was given to me (metaphorically), but being bedridden these past couple days has prevented me from achieving that very well. I’ve grown a fondness for TikTok animations and animatics, and have been considering making a few of my own.

Oh yes, also a month or so ago I bought a graphics tablet for my laptop and am looking into learning 3-D modeling. It would be fun to make my own VRChat avatars, plus it’s always handing to have more skills under your belt.

And my apologies if this runs long, or stops making sense at some point, I’m still fairly delirious and it is late as I write this, even though it will post sometime in the morning long after I’m asleep.

I’m doing well, to put it simply. Nothing in life will ever be just right, and I frankly don’t expect it to, nor do I wish for a perfect life. The only way we learn is through hardship, after all. I could always be better, but I could be much much worse as well. I’m just glad I’ve got plenty of time on my hands to swindle away even between writing, and art, and videos, and work. Due to a fairly rigorous sleep schedule I’ve about 16 hours of the day to spend at my leisure, and that already feels like too much excess time.

To the point I’ve taken to playing mobile games simply to pass it by.

So hopefully getting a job in town, one with a paycheck, will help manage some of that boredom. I’m sure I’ll still have plenty of excess time regardless, I always seem to be swimming in it.

And I’m sure I’ve concluded this post multiple times by now, but I truly am doing well enough. Talking about it helps me figure out and rationalize my mental health. It’s a bit like psychoanalyzing myself, for the word to to witness as if I’m just another one of the silly characters dancing on the screen. It is truly a beneficial experience for myself, however, since I’m able to truly process any emotions that might have been hiding behind triggers.

And here I go on another tangent, so I’ll cut it off here.

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Four

Warnings: None

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Characters: Dean, Jo, Reader, Benny Laffite (mentioned only)

Word count: 1.5k

You looked around your nearly empty apartment. Pretty much everything was packed up, and what wasn't was going to be thrown away. You still had a few days until you had to move, but today was moving day. The truck was going to be there in four hours, and there was still things to be done.

You had searched for days on end for another apartment, not wanting to impose on Dean. When nothing came up, you finally decided to take Dean up on his offer. Dean was very sweet about the entire thing. He already had a spare bedroom set up, and even a cat bed for Storm. Hell, he even offered to help you move, to which you declined politely. He had already done so much for you and he barely knew you.

Normally, you would find the entire situation strange, but there was something about Dean, like he would never hurt you.

"Alright, Storm." You said, looking around. "Are you ready to go to your new home?" Your cat gave a sad meow. "No, silly, I meant a new home with me. I'm not leaving you behind." Storm began purring as he weaved between your legs. "God, you're a weird cat."

Not only were you stressed about having to move out, but you also had midterms in three days. But then you had Christmas break; four weeks off of school where you could just sit around in your pajamas and watch Christmas movies.

"Knock knock." A voice said, opening the door. "It's your favorite person!"

You rolled your eyes as you looked at the blonde girl. "Since when are you my favorite person, Jo?"

"Since we were ten, duh. Besides, I have to be your favorite, I'm here to help you finish packing and move your stuff into Dean's house." Jo said, grabbing a stack of books and neatly placing them in a box. "Even though I offered to let you stay at my place."

"Jo," You sighed. "I told you, if your landlord caught me living at your apartment, then you would be kicked out and neither of us would have a place to live."

"I know, It's just. . . You barely know Dean. He could be a serial killer."

"And that would be an upgrade from the last guy I lived with, so. . ."

"Y/N," Jo shook her head.

"Jo."

"Are you okay?" She asked gently. "You haven't really talked about Michael all that much and-"

"It's because I don't want to talk about it." You stopped her. "When I'm ready to tell you what happened, I will. But right now, I'm nowhere near ready to discuss it. No matter how much you and Jack badger me about it."

"We badger you because we care, Y/N/N." Jo objected.

"I know you do, but sometimes it's best to just give me some time. I promise I'll talk to you guys about it soon. Just give me a little more time."

Jo gave you a worried look but said nothing else. "So, what are you doing for Christmas?"

You made a face at your best friend. She was jumping from one touchy subject to the next. "I don't know. . . If Jack doesn't come home from Duke, I might go visit him. You could come too. Make a road trip out of it."

"That's a sixteen hour drive, Y/N. If we were to visit Jack, we would be taking a plane." Jo said as she packed up a few band t-shirts.

"Do you have money for a ticket?" You arched an eyebrow. "Cuz I sure as hell don't."

"Touché."

You decided to play some music while the two of you continued to pack up your apartment. Listening to music was the only way to make you unwind. You loved to her the loud beat of the drums and the hum of the guitar. The two of you danced around as you tossed things into boxes.

"Aren't your neighbors doing to report this?" Jo asked loudly over the music.

"What are they gonna do? Kick me out?" You responded, jumping around.

"This is why I love you!" Jo giggled.

Two hours later, you had everything packed up, and the stuff that wasn't was sorted into two piles: Throw away, and donate.

You and Jo fell back onto the couch, both of you out of breath. "I am exhausted." You wheezed.

"You're telling me." Jo agreed. "Hey, you wanna get some pizza?"

"If you're buying."

———

"So," You said, after taking a bite out of your pizza. "Why didn't you want to pursue anything with Dean again?"

"I mean, it's not that I didn't. He's a nice guy, super hot, pretty smart, but it just didn't seem right." Jo explained. "It's almost like I was stealing him from someone. I could tell that he didn't belong with me."

"Huh," You furrowed your eyebrows. "I've literally never heard someone say that about having sex before." You laughed.

"Oh shut up!" Jo growled. "You make it out to sound like I'm crazy."

"I mean. . ."

Jo glared at you from across the table. "I will hit you with something."

"I'd like to see you try. Your aim sucks." You challenged. Jo hurriedly got up and picked up a pillow from on the couch and chucked it at your head. "Hey!"

"Well, would you look at that, I guess my aim doesn't suck after all." Jo smirked.

"You little -" You picked up the pillow she threw at you and aimed for her stomach.

There was a knock at the door, which interrupted the fight that you were having with Jo.

You opened the door to see Dean on the other side. "Dean, hey! What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to help you move." He said simply.

"Dean I-"

"Nope, you can't stop me." He chuckled as he lifted a box into his arms. "Whatever doesn't fit in the moving van I can put in my car."

You and Jo watched as he carried three boxes out the door. "God he is so sexy." Jo mumbled.

"I thought you said chasing after Dean would be like stealing something from someone?" You inquired, a light grin on your face.

"Doesn't mean I can't admire his great ass." You rolled your eyes and flicked Jo's ear.

"Perv." You mumbled as you grabbed a box and followed Dean out the door. Within twenty minutes, everything had been loaded onto the van.

"Well, that's everything." You huffed, resting your hands on your hips. "Okay, so, Jo and I are going to follow you in our cars, and we'll see you at your house."

You picked up Storm's carrier and put him in the back seat. He was sound asleep, as you slipped a Benadryl in his food earlier because it put him to sleep easily. Storm hated car rides with a burning passion.

It was about a twenty minute drive from your apartment to Dean's place, which was a good thing; you weren't too far away from the coffee shop. His house seemed to be in a good neighborhood. 

Jo parked the moving van beside Dean's car. Dean hopped out of his car and began grabbing boxes, taking them inside the house. After several trips back to the car, you finally had all of your boxes in the house. You crouch down and let Storm out of his carrier, and he darts into a corner, glaring at you. "Aaand now he's pissed." You chuckle softly.

"Ah, he'll get over it, sweetheart. Especially when he becomes hungry." Dean comments as he starts helping you unpack.

"Well, it looks like y'all have this handled. I'm gonna go, it's way too crowded in here anyways." Jo says, giving you a hug before leaving.

You and Dean worked in silence for a while as you unpacked. It wasn't an excessive amount of stuff, mostly things for your room. "I'll unpack the clothes, you don't have to worry about that." You tell Dean as he brings in a box labeled 'clothes'. "Thanks for letting me live with you, Dean. I didn't know what I was gonna do. . ." You say quietly.

"Nah, don't worry about it sweetheart, I look at it as a win-win situation. You have a place to stay and I have good company." He gives you a boyish grin.

"Still, I really owe you one. . . I'll have rent to you the first of the month and we can go half on the utilities." You say as you unpack your clothes, putting them in your dresser.

"Don't stress too much on that, sweetheart. I know times are tough, just pitch in when you can, okay?" He gives you a reassuring smile, gently squeezing your shoulder. "I'll leave you to get settled in. I'll order us some Chinese food."

"Oooh, that sounds really good right now." You sigh happily. "Marry me?"

Dean snorts as he looks at his phone. "You're starting to sound like Benny, there, sugar." 

"What can I say, it runs in the family." You joke. Dean left to go pick up the food and you were left alone in you thoughts. It was strange to be living somewhere other than your apartment, especially with this man that you met not even three weeks ago. But you trusted Dean, there was just something about his personality that just made you feel safe and secure. Storm jumped on the bed, looking up at you.

"Hey there buddy. . . I know, tell me about it, this whole thing is strange. . ." You sigh as you gently pet him. "Everything's gonna be okay. . ." You weren't sure if you were trying to convince your cat or yourself.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Cinnamon and Sugar Tags:

@vicmc624 @supernatural-jackles @laycblack @casdeancrowleys-blog @my-proof-is-you

[ambrossart]

I’m so sorry to clog up your notifications, but for some reason, Tumblr is refusing to let me comment 🙄 Think of this as a continuation of my comment from a few minutes ago 🤦‍♀️

About the boxes: right?! I’ve donated/given away/thrown away way too many things for there to still be this much stuff.

By the way, you should be so proud of yourself for going through all this moving with agoraphobia. I’ve only moved once and it’s caused a major strain. Going from Rhode Island to Tennessee is not an easy feat. If it helps to write out what’s going on, please keep us updated! Again, I’m sending soooo much rest your way!

I'm writing this from Tennessee!

Oh my god, that was the most stressful move of my life. My husband accidentally went through a moving broker and we 100% got scammed. They severely underquoted us (a common tactic), so when the movers showed up, the cost was more than double what was quoted. We were backed into a corner. Our options were to pay the extra cost or throw away all of our furniture. Thankfully, my parents loaned us some money, so we got our furniture loaded onto the truck (minus our dining room table, which we had already sacrificed), but now we have no idea when we're getting our furniture delivered—or if we're getting our furniture delivered. I hate moving so much. I wanna cry, but I'm too exhausted.

But my new apartment is gorgeous. Apart from the leaky sink (which should be fixed today) and the lack of furniture, it's incredible. Everything is brand new. There's so much space. The community is up in the hills, so it's got this quiet, woodsy vibe. Once we're settled, I know I'm gonna be really happy here.

And yeah, my mental health has definitely taken a hit with all this moving. My agoraphobia is triggered by major changes in environment. Actually, even minor changes will trigger it. During the drive here, for example, I was having mini panic attacks at every rest stop because I was scared I was gonna get lost on my way to the restroom (I know that sounds silly, but 🤷‍♀️). I have to Google every new place I visit so that I can see pictures of the inside and outside. If I could download a map, I would.

But you wouldn't know I'm struggling if you saw me. I go through great effort to hide it.

My lowest point was in college. My freshman year was fine because I had a roommate and would go out with her, but my sophomore year I was by myself, and I didn't leave my dorm for months, except to go to class (and I barely ever went to class either, but luckily I had very understanding professors who made accommodations for me). I also developed a slight ED during this time. I was too scared to go get food, so I wouldn't eat, except for like a candy bar out of the vending machine or something. I was like a little gremlin. I would come out at night, raid the vending machine, and then scurry back into my room before anyone could see me. That’s really embarrassing to admit, but it’s true. And I was losing weight! I was losing so much weight, and I was happy because I had always struggled with my weight, so… win-win, right? I didn’t have to face the terrifying world and I was finally skinny. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, one night I fainted in the shower, fell hard, slammed my head on the bathroom floor, lost conciousness, came to, saw my RA hovering over me, and finally realized I had a major problem.

Yeah, I was a hot mess in my late teens/early twenties.

I’m still a hot mess, but I’m doing a lot better. 😂

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Recently I’ve been having ideas about Eames.

TH Masterlist

Now, before any of you are going to wonder what kind of psycho I am, let me explain why this came up in the dark corners of my mind.

So, in Inception, we basically get little info about Eames. All we know is his surname and that he’s a damn splendid trickster. What is his story? What did he do before Dom approached him and the events of the movie took place?

Who is Eames?

I know I’m heavily diverging from canon here, but that very question spawned a concept I can’t stop thinking about.

Prof!Eames who stalks the cam girl he’s obsessed with and so happens to be one of his students.

*sips her coffee* Yeah, I know. But hear me out.

His online username is GentlemanSir.

He went to great lengths to grab your attention. Making multiple donations during streams, sending gifts and letters to your P.O. box, instructing the barista at the café you frequent to give you handwritten notes with your coffee but remain silent about him being the secret messenger.

Truth be told, he actually gets off on the idea he holds financial dominance over you.

Eames remembers fondly the absolutely flabbergasted expression on your face, the haze of pleasure temporarily lifted, when he donated once again a sum of money running into the hundreds.

It wasn’t so much the number that caught your eye. No, it was the message.

‘For groceries and to buy something nice for yourself.’

That certainly had him score brownie points with you. Sure, the money was nice, but it was the thoughtfulness of his words which drew you to him.

Very well aware of this, having overheard a couple conversations between you and your friends, Eames continued to accompany his donations with sweet messages.

Sir’s proud of you, taking such a big dildo. But don’t forget to drink water, darling!

Take a shower before you go to sleep, poppet. If I was there, I’d wash you and tuck you in.

I really like the new pink lingerie. Here’s some pocket change so you can buy some more cute outfits.

In class, he’s noticed you’ve become more at ease. Before, you used to have this distracted air, which he deduced stemmed from financial worries.

He’s kept an eye on you, trailing you from a distance after your shifts at your two part-time jobs to make sure you got home safe.

Not gonna lie, he was kind of ecstatic when you mentioned quitting your second job. He’s always admired your drive to balance academics with private and work life, but the exhaustion it caused you only made him amp up his game to get you to notice him.

He’d take care of you.

First behind the scenes.

And later, after graduating, he’d step from the shadows to take you on a trip and make you his.

Eames knows you won’t be able to reject his offer, already having planned what cards to play when your conscience will start to gnaw at you.

Moreover, he certainly had noticed the doe eyes you tend to make at him during lectures and seminars and the way you blush when you say his name, a privilege extended only to you.

He can tell it makes you happy when you call him Ian, especially outside of class.

He’s been working out more because he’s noticed the underlying dreamy satisfaction in your eyes it causes. The height difference helps too, as proven by a happy accidental discovery when he paid for your coffee in the cafeteria.

“It isn’t proper for a gentleman to let a woman pay for her own drink,” he merrily told you when you glanced over your shoulder, cheeks flushed and your whole body slightly trembling.

Had he let his self-control waver, he’d have swept you off of your feet and taken you right there and then. You simply looked too cute.

Too meek.

Incapable of stopping him.

He knows you tend to frequent bookshops in your spare time, so it happens more than once you ‘bump into him’ while browsing them.

He stays close to you under the pretense of protecting you from the other predatory men who fancy they have a chance with you.

In reality, though, the hand resting on your hip stems from the pure need, the instinct, to touch you.

Moreover, he enjoys the way he towers over you. He’s basically the wall between you and the outside world (and everyone in it).

A role which he intends to play until you tell your audience you’re taken by a man who does it like no other and you shut the camera off once and for all.

Until you introduce him to your parents and friends as your husband, the man who provides you with a stable and comfortable life.

Until he is your world.

And in the meantime, he’ll just have to get rid of every obstacle.

One silent bullet and perfect lie at a time.

All behind your back.

So you don’t have to see Sir’s monstrous side.

I’ll admit I went off the rails here, but this is what I’m living for right now. I don’t know how I’d translate this into a wee story or series, if ever I will. All the same, I thought it’d be a nice concept to share.

Tag list: @buttercupsandboys @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @alikaheroes @ilovemanypeople @dreamlandcreations @zablife @vir-tual @liliac-dreamer @woofgocows @elijahssuit

[joy-of-life88]

Inked Temptation [a Damian Priest story] 12 Backfiring

Ellie POV

Humming, I packed the last things into one of the many boxes. I could not believe how much stuff I had. But now that everything was packed, I realized the extent of it. I had sorted out a lot and donated it. I had also sold my car. It made more sense to sell it and buy a new one in Florida. To be honest, my car wasn't the best anymore anyway and I wasn't sure if it would have made the long drive at all.

It was good that I had not rented the small U-Haul. Because not everything would have fit in there. The movers were loading the last of the furniture. I was glad to finally be done with it.

These four weeks had been really exhausting. With our work and the need to still spend a lot of time together and then the preparations for my move. Fortunately, all that would be behind us tomorrow. And I was really looking forward to it. Damian felt the same way. Even though it was clear to both of us that it would be a new challenge. Especially because it would probably be pretty cramped with all our stuff.

But should it become too much then we had any time the possibility to look around for a bigger place to stay. Together.

Just as I had these thoughts, my phone rang. I could not help but smile when I saw the callers ID.

"Hi D! How are you?" I asked happily.

"Better when I can see you, baby girl. I'm on my way to get a cab right now. I should be with you in about 1 to 1 1/2 hours. Then I can take my baby to her new home." he replied.

"I can't wait. I hope we didn't get ahead of ourselves by wanting to drive the truck to Florida by ourselves. But I trust you to know what you're doing." I said with a laugh.

"Of course I do, Ellie-Bell. This will be our first extended road trip. And we have a lot of time. This 20 hour drive will go by really fast. Don't worry." he replied in a good mood.

I really hoped that he knew what he was getting into. Because for me, the whole thing did not sound particularly appealing. The only good thing was that I could spend the time with Damian. And then there was the fact that I finally got out of here.

"If you say so Mr Priest..." I giggled.

-------------

An hour later everything was stowed in the truck and I took another look around the apartment. It was strange to see it so empty. Good thing Damian would be here soon.

"Eleanor Robertson? We have a complaint from your neighbors because the parking lot is blocked." I suddenly heard from the stairs.

I turned around and saw two policemen coming towards me. I didn't know one of them, but I knew the other one even better. I groaned. It was so to be expected. The spy wanted to see what was going on and had found a excuse to do so.

"That's not possible. The truck is parked in a designated area and my neighbors have all been informed of my move and the noise and unpleasantness it will cause," I said matter of factly.

"If you don't mind I will see for myself. Lieutenant Henderson, please escort Miss Robertson to the truck to make sure everything is indeed in order." said the older man.

"So it's true.... You're actually moving away from here..." said Scott.

Meanwhile, I grabbed my purse and the bag of prepared snacks and refreshments to take back to the truck. Then I locked the door. One last time. Even though this was so not the goodbye I had imagined.

"Yes, I see you are still doing your job as a spy for my father. Didn't he tell you that it was not a good idea? I don't mind exposing you," I wanted to know.

"You're bluffing. You have nothing on me, El." he said, but his look told me he was anything but sure.

"I have some evidence... And then you can forget about your promotion. So leave me alone already. Or you'll be the one who regrets it. Not me." I replied calmly.

"You shouldn't threaten me. It might backfire on you." he growled.

"Just leave me alone. I'm not afraid of you." I said, then climbed into the truck.

I locked the door behind me. I tried not to let him intimidate me. But it wasn't easy, because I didn't know what he was capable of. Now that I had openly threatened him. Scott was pacing up and down beside the truck. And that made me nervous. What was taking Damian so long? I wanted to get out of here.

--------------

Damian POV

Why did there have to be this much traffic today of all days? I finally wanted to take Ellie in my arms and bring her to her, our home. She had just texted me that she was waiting for me in the truck and that she had news.

But then as we turned into her street, I saw it. The thick cloud of smoke, the flames.... And then I heard the sirens. What the hell was going on?

The cab driver stopped. Then I saw where the flames were coming from. It was burning in front of the building where I was going. There was a fire where Ellie lived.

Without thinking what I was doing, I threw money at the driver and jumped out of the car. I ran towards the building. It didn't take me long to realize that there was a big truck burning in front of the house.

Oh my God, no! It was the only truck around... And that meant Ellie was in that truck.

[tomwambsmilk]

Moving is such a Herculean task it rlly should have been one of the 12 labours…. Obviously you know it’ll be big but you don’t know HOW big. Because you know you have a lot of Stuff and Things but it’s a manageable amount of Stuff and Things right? Except once you start packing the Stuff and Things start multiplying and now you still have the same amount of Stuff and Things to pack but there are also boxes all over your living room floor. So you decide it’s time to get rid of some of your Stuff and Things but what? And how? And now you’re trying to look up donation policies for your local Goodwill equivalent and it turns out they only accept items blessed by a Sapphic witch donated during the 40 minutes where the moon is brightest on the third Thursday of prime number months so now that’s on your to-do list. And then you think that maybe you should just throw out some of the Stuff and Things. Sucks to put it in a landfill but you’re really running out of time and options. So you go to the landfill and they say “give us $10000 to take your garbage” and you’re like excuse me????????? But they don’t budge so you give them your garbage and all the cash in your wallet and then you go home and there is STILL so much Stuff and Things but now there are no boxes. You could’ve sworn you had more boxes but they’ve vanished. So you look for two hours but eventually you give up and drive to Home Depot and buy more boxes and come home and the boxes you couldn’t find earlier are waiting to greet you in the foyer. So now there are too many boxes and now the boxes are part of the Stuff and Things that you need to fucking deal with. Meanwhile your house is getting messier and messier and you don’t understand how this could possibly be because SO MUCH of your Stuff and Things is now in boxes so where is the mess coming from???? Where?????? It has to be self-multiplying. It has to be. You go to bed at night and the clutter fucks and has clutter babies before you wake up. That’s the only possible explanation. Meanwhile you’re standing in front of the stove debating whether to cook (need the energy but do I want to buy more food I’ll have to deal with when I leave??) or eat out (this is costing me so much fucking money already) or eat two peaches and a cheese bun over the sink (this is fine I’m fine). So you take stuff down to start packing your car but your car has definitely shrunk. It wasn’t that tiny before. You used to own an adult’s Honda Civic and now you are presented with a child’s Hot Wheel. Your boxes have grown strange angles that prevent them from sitting neatly in the trunk and every garbage bag of clothing has swollen just a little too big for the gaps you’re trying to cram it and you knew you’d have to make multiple trips but this is ridiculous. So you give up and sit on the ground in your driveway and search the cost of renting a uhaul and then you look at your bank account and the damage deposit you’re not getting back and start cramming the boxes into the back of your car like a reverse birth and when you finally accomplish that you realize that you have left no room for your poor dog who’s waiting for you upstairs with his nose pressed against the window trying to get comfy on a couch full of Stuff and Things because you accidentally packed all his beds already and while you’re staring up at him trying to figure out how to rearrange your car you remember that you still have to cancel your PO Box