#'what are you doing. let the dead sleep.'

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids (pt.2)

[<- part 1]

"Oh, yeah," John jerks his head up like he just remembered the fact people are supposed to have names at all. He gestures to the kids, pointing to each of them as he introduces, "Daniel, Daniel, and Danielle."

This time, all three kids flip him off simultaneously. Bruce clears his throat, trying to figure out if Constantine is messing with him and, if so, in which parts. Since, so far, everything the man has said sounds like a poor attempt at pulling his leg.

"I don't think they like those," he cautiously says, and the kids whip their heads at him, nodding furiously. Bruce can't help but be just a little enamored with the way they behave.

"Of, sod off, at this point I don't care what they like," John straightens up with a dismissive, albeit weak, wave of his hands, and rubs his face, "They are menaces. Sometimes by accident, but mostly on purpose. Their grandfather thought it would be easier to handle them if they were not teenagers, and while I agreed with his reasoning at the time, I-" he glances at the kids, who all have displeased grimaces of various levels on their faces, "I have been made to reconsider. I swear that ancient bitch is laughing his ass off wherever he is now."

The kids suddenly grin. They are not very friendly, nor polite smiles - if anything, they look a bit nightmarish. An old grandfather's clock in his study makes a very loud ticking noise.

"See?" John whips his head to look at said clock, the expression on his face bordering on insane. His eye twitches.

If Bruce doesn't do anything now, he might become one of the very few people who managed to witness John Constantine, the Laughing Magician, have a meltdown. So he sighs and decides to solve the problems one at a time.

Which means that no matter how alarmed or suspicious he is, his first move would not be to interrogate either the man or the kids.

"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, I trust you can find it on your own," he tells John, almost softly, as he catches the girl from slipping away from his lap, "Is there anything I need to know about children before you fall unconscious?"

John slumps with relief, so obviously that Bruce almost smiles. Hardships of raising - or, watching, for that matter - kids, he understands.

"Yes," he breathes out with an air of exhilaration and turns to the kids again, pointing to the middle child, "Danny is the original. He is from this dimension and timeline, that is. Dan," he turns his finger to the older boy, "is in the wrong timeline, he's Danny's future evil self redeemed into older bratty brother. Dani," he switches to the girl, "is Danny's clone, made by his arch-nemesis of a godfather. If she starts melting at any point, wake me up immediately. If any of them start floating, sprouting tentacles, speaking to walls in static, or glowing, don't."

Bruce looks down to the kids. So, definitely metas, that would explain the government trying to get them... Or, no, it wouldn't because he is fairly certain no government is going to blatantly ignore the Meta Protection Acts.

"Don't let them raise the dead, and if you give them food, make sure it doesn't have a face. If you find more than three of them, it means one of them has duplicated, don't worry, they will absorb it back later. Absolutely don't let them touch any guns," Constantine is backing down to the door as he speaks, his gaze flickering from the kids to Bruce and back every second. Like he is leaving a ticking bomb in Bruce's lap, and not three children. "Danny is, comparatively, the most responsible one, the other two are up for any dubious trouble they can get to at any moment. Oh, and their memories are wonky because of de-aging, they remember some things but not others, so if they say something particularly disturbing, it's most likely some random piece of knowledge they managed to keep."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He did get the part about the kids being, well, abnormal in the matters of their origins, but the disjointed set of rules and advices doesn't help as much as Constantine probably thinks it does.

"Allergies, preferences, ages they were before?" He tries to get at least some more info down before John disappears through the door. Actually, maybe he should send someone to handcuff the man to the bed lest he disappears completely.

"None, but don't let them eat cutlery. Danny likes space, Dani has a thing for exploring, and Dan likes violence." The older kid stirs in Bruce's lap and says something in the direction of Constantine. No sound comes out, but the man seems to get what he's trying to say anyway, "Okay, yes, that was rude of me, sorry. Dan likes... exercise," he ends up with, and that placate the boy enough to slump down and cross his arms. John sighs, "They were seventeen, fourteen, and twenty respectively. Now," he snaps his fingers, and suddenly Bruce can hear the girl - Dani - humming a tune under her breath. So, he lifted the silence spell, it seems.

"Good fucking luck," John wishes to Bruce, earnestly, and all but vanishes away.

Bruce sighs and looks down to the kids.

"Are you hungry?" He tries, and all eyes are on him at once, attentive and unblinking.

"Fruitloops," Danny says, and while Bruce is positive that's the name for a cereal, he gets a feeling that's not what the kid meant.

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 3 - Bolt

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Back again! I have split the final chapter into two parts as it makes more sense that way, you’ll see why when you read the last one – which hopefully I should be able to post later this week, or early next – I’m just working on getting it right. Warnings for angst, angst and angst in this part – sorry in advance. I felt a bit weepy writing this. I’ve been blown away by the support this story has received, especially as it was written on a bit of a whim, so thank-you for all your reblogs and comments – it means a lot!! Also shout-out to the recent Variety SebStan photoshoot - very inspirational...

💔

You were sleeping like the dead, it was a miracle that anything could’ve woken you – but the soft click of the hotel door opening must’ve cut through the void somehow, because you shot up in bed awake, disorientated and suddenly on alert. Your breathing was heavy as you adjusted to your surroundings. What…where were…?

Bucky gently closed the door behind him and rushed over to your bedside.

“Hey, hey…it’s just me, you’re okay doll. I’m sorry I startled you. I was trying to slip in quietly…” he cooed, “I thought knocking might be too jarring…stupidly…”

You blinked at him, you were just able to make out his face in the dark as recognition sunk in. His features were subtly illuminated by the parking lot lights, the room’s curtains doing little to keep that glare out. He looked tired and drained; his hair unkempt. There was a weariness in his face that you hadn’t seen before. You groggily flicked on the bedside lamp as your brain caught up with the rest of you.

For a blissful moment you’d forgotten it all, from the haze of sleep, you’d forgotten why you were here. Bucky! Bucky is here! Your safe place. You began to smile and instinctively moved towards him. He smiled too, a relieved smile, holding out a hand to you so you reached for it with your own –

Wait.

Oh.

You saw the hope in his eyes dwindle when you jerked away from him, a scowl hardening your expression as you whipped your hand back as quickly as if it had been burnt. You pulled the sheets high and tight, covering your body as if you didn’t like that any of you was visible to him.

As he tried to lean over to get closer to you, you greeted him with a blunt, hard slap across the face.

He recoiled, his hand moving to his stinging cheek as he stood up to his full height and stepped back, “fine. I deserved that…”

“What are you doing here?” you sneered, “How did you even get in?”

He tilted his head towards the door and held up a key card, “They let me in. They gave me a key”.

“Well, they shouldn’t have! They shouldn’t just give away door keys to random people…”

“They don’t, just me,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, “You think this is funny?”

“Doll…” he reached out to you again, but you smacked his hand away.

“No,” you growled.

“I found out the truth…I know it wasn’t you. I’m so sor-” he sounded frantic, stuttering and jumbled, worlds away from the cool and collected man you knew so well. But you were unmoved, his betrayal still stinging and raw.

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your tone flat and cold, “it’s too late”.

“I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry, baby. I flew off the handle without talking to you. I should’ve trusted you…” he pleaded.

“Yes, you should’ve,” you snapped bitterly, “but you didn’t. You wouldn’t let me talk, you just shouted…then you threw me out with nothing! Like I was trash! I walked for nearly two miles alone in the dark, in the middle of the night, Bucky. Anything could’ve happened to me…” your voice wobbled slightly at the end of your sentence; you took a deep breath – refusing to let anymore tears fall for him.

He dipped his head, his gaze dropping, unable to look at you. “I know, you’re right…I keep thinking about it…I keep…”

“Save it!” you shouted, a little more emotional than you intended. “All I wanted was for you to listen to me. I don’t know anything about a recording, or my phone pinging, or whatever you were ranting about. I just can’t believe you wouldn’t believe me, after everything we’ve been through…”

He sighed heavily, then withdrew his phone from his pocket. He began to scroll through.

You scoffed, “what are you-”

And then your voice, clear as day, rang out from his phone. Bucky held it up towards you, his face pained. You listened, stunned, as you heard yourself on the recording. It was so real you almost considered that it was you, and you’d somehow forgotten that you’d actually said it.

“Just give me a bit longer and I’ll have that one-armed pussy spill everything…”

After it had finished, you furrowed your brows in confusion, your mouth hanging open.

“But that wasn’t…” you whispered.

“I know. I know that now,” he sighed, putting the phone back in his pocket. “Rumlow set it up. He put it together with cutting edge AI, some advanced tech Stark helped develop. He also planted fake footage of you on the CCTV. Took your phone to an incriminating location. But Sam caught him tonight. He’s been working with the feds to bring me down, to make room for a HYDRA revival. He knew I’d be weaker and easier to takedown if you and I fell apart, so breaking us up was a two-birds-one-stone deal”.

You blinked, bewildered, a chill running through you as you thought about the lengths someone would go to in order to break you and Bucky up. You knew a little about HYDRA, the rival syndicate that Bucky used to work for before he struck out on his own. They’d been defunct for years, or so Bucky had told you. The implication of someone being able to make your voice say anything they wanted also haunted you. Rumlow could’ve even framed you for a crime with such technology. It was…scary.

You could see why Bucky freaked out, presented with all of this incriminating evidence, but…

“Rumlow didn’t break us up, Bucky”, you said quietly as your words sharpened. “You did. You could’ve come to me first. You could’ve showed me this and we could’ve set everything straight. Instead…you went nuclear…”

He dropped his gaze again to the threadbare hotel carpet, unable to meet your eye. It was almost funny, he looked small for the first time since you’d met him. Despite his towering height and hulking frame, he almost seemed like a little boy in that moment.

“…I just can’t believe you thought I’d do something like that to you. That I’d betray you like that. That I could look you in the eye every day and lie to you and…”

He suddenly looked up, quickly snatching your hand, “I’m so sorry, doll, this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made…I’d do anything to take it back…”

“Well you can’t!” you sniped back at him as you tore your hand away from his, tears in your eyes. “You must think so low of me that you think I’d be capable of this. And all the stuff you said about me leeching off you for your money! I’ve never been comfortable spending your cash and you know that! I can’t believe you’d throw it all back in my face…”

“Baby, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean of it. I was hurt…” he said, the desperation building in his voice as his eyes widened, “I was just trying to hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. I didn’t really think it. I never have”.

“It must’ve come from somewhere!” you spat venomously, “you didn’t pull it out of thin air…”

“I promise. I was just throwing words out and didn’t care what they were as long as they hit. I just was so mad,” he sat down on the bed and began running his hands through his hair as he closed his eyes, he always did that when he was stressed.

He sighed heavily, then turned to you, “Look”, he began – his voice soft now. “I guess part of me always thought this was too good to be true…everything happened so quickly when we met. I’d always been content with one-night stands and casual hook-ups. Then I met you, and…” he trailed off as he chewed his lip, carefully choosing what to say.

You watched him, your earlier anguish now hardened into pure rage, you wanted to kick him out – send him out into the street the way he had with you. But you also wanted to hear this. You wanted to understand what possible reasoning there could be for causing of this pain. What weak excuse he could use to try and justify his cruelty. He looked at you again. His eyes were kind, warm. But you couldn’t help but remember the coldness in them from earlier. You didn’t think you’d ever forget it.

“I guess…everything changed. I fell for you so hard. You took over my life. Invaded my thoughts, my senses. I just wanted to be with you all the time. And to my surprise…you felt the same. This sweet, wonderful woman wanted to be with me, too. I was sure you’d turn away when you found about my job…my past…my scars, my arm... Because why wouldn’t you? You were kind and decent. You saw the best in people. How the hell could you love someone like me? A killer. A monster…”

“Bucky, I…” you croaked.

“Please, just let me finish…” he pleaded, “but somehow, you did love me. And I know you moved in with me quickly, but it felt right. You had a rough start in life, and all I ever wanted to do was take care of you and fix it so you didn’t have to worry about money or paying bills or any of that ever again. I wanted you to sleep soundly, knowing I would protect you and do right by you and you wouldn’t have to sling burgers and fries to get by anymore. And part of me knew it was selfish…because you deserved better than me. You deserved the white picket fence, a dull but decent man with a boring job who comes home and tells you about whatever shit Janet in Accounting got up to that day. But no, you had me – who stole you from that peaceful future to make myself happy. I worked late and committed violent acts. I had to give you bodyguards just in case. I uprooted your entire life. I did my best to give you the love you deserve, but I couldn’t even get that right. When I heard that tape…it was like the universe telling me what I already knew - I wasn’t worthy, and the debt I owed was getting collected. I guess part of me always expected I’d inevitably screw it up, because I never deserved you in the first place. And I’m just sorry that I proved myself right”.

You sniffed back your tears, bowled over by his words. He’d never said anything like this to you before, you had no idea he held those insecurities. The silence hung heavily between you, until you finally spoke, your voice shaky.

“But I was happy slinging burgers. And I never wanted the boring guy. I never wanted the white picket fence. I wanted you, Buck. Only you. I knew who you truly were, and it didn’t matter. It never mattered. You did deserve me. You did deserve love and everything we had…until…well…this”.

He nodded sadly, taking your hand in his.

“I know that now, doll, I do. I ended up sabotaging the best thing that ever happened to me because of my own fears. And that’s on me. But look…I need to ask, do you think you could ever forgive me? I’ll do whatever it takes, I’ll go at whatever pace you want…We can just be friends and see how it goes. I’ll go to therapy to sort out my shit. Anything. I’ll never doubt you again. All I ask is that you give me one final chance to fix this. Please, doll…I’m begging you…”

You looked into his big blue eyes, glossy with his unshed tears. Your heart ached and twisted at the sight. You’d never seen him looking so vulnerable before, so lost. You loved him so very much. You would’ve taken a bullet for him if he’d asked. He was correct that the two of you had moved fast in your whirlwind romance, but it always felt like a natural progression. It had always felt right.

But something had shifted. Something monumental. And you didn’t know if it could ever be like it was. It was wrong now.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I can’t….I…” you whispered, squeezing his hand as your tears began to fall. “I want to…I just…I don’t know if I can…”

He inhaled deeply and your heart shattered as you saw the flash of anguish in his eyes. But then he took a moment, a sad but accepting smile creeping over his face. He leaned over and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“It’s alright, doll” he told you softly. “This was my fault. I’m not gonna force it or push you to forgive if you’re not comfortable doing so, okay? Not because I don’t care or don’t want to fight for you. But because I love you, and loving someone means sometimes you have to let them go”.

You nodded as you looked up into his eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“Hey, c’mon…” he soothed.

He quickly vanished into the en-suite bathroom, returning with a small wad of toilet paper to dab at your tear-soaked cheeks. He extended a finger and gently moved it under your chin, propping your face up to look at his. The tenderness and care he showed you was what you were used to with Bucky. This was the version of him you’d always known. It almost made you forget about everything. Almost.

You both shared a small smile. A melancholic smile, a smile that you both understood meant too much had happened here tonight. Too much had changed. You can’t put the toothpaste back in the tube. Nothing was spoken, but everything was said.

It was hard to know how much time had passed, but eventually he got up and moved to the door. You didn’t stop him, and he didn’t ask you to. He ran a finger over your trusty red backpack as he passed the desk. He chuckled and picked it up, “I should’ve known this old thing was involved. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how you left with no clothes or money…but you’ve always been the most resourceful person I know.”

You smiled back at him weakly.

“It’s funny…” he mused as he caressed the straps, “you had this emergency kit already to go. Just in case…”

You shook your head, “no…it wasn’t meant to be a kit, it was just left from where I moved in with you. I didn’t-I just dumped it when I…”

“Yes…left fully packed and untouched. With clothes and cash. And debit cards, presumably. Stashed in a closet by the front door. That doesn’t strike you as a choice? A plan? Even if you weren’t fully aware of it?” he asked.

You didn’t respond as the silence laid thick between you. Incisive Bucky, as always. He could read you better than anyone on the planet. You knew he was right, he knew it too. You swallowed, looking down at the frayed thread on the bedsheet.

“You are always planning, doll. Because you always had to, with the life you’ve had. You always had to keep moving and stay one step ahead. We both know that”.

Again, he was met with your silence as you pulled at the thread. But there was no denial. You couldn’t deny the truth.

“Guess we both had our own ejector seats for this plane,” he mused as he moved the bag back to how he found it. “Looks like we had even more in common than we knew”.

He was right, again. It seemed that both of you had your anxieties and insecurities about this relationship. Both of you were maybe a little too cynical and world weary to believe in happy ever afters. His had manifested in anger, in rage…yours in being ready to flee at any time. Both of you had been on the starting line waiting for that pistol to fire.

But it had only finally imploded because of him.

He continued his slow march to the door, clearing his throat as he looked back at you.

“I meant what I said, every word. I’d do anything to get you back. I’d go at any pace, I’d take whatever you offered – in any form, as long as I’m still in your life in some way. I’d spend the rest of my days apologising if I had to. But honestly, I’d also be happy just to be your friend. Okay? So, you can call me, text me, anytime. Hell, just send me an emoji. Even if you just to talk. Even just to yell at me. I’ll always pick up, I promise”.

He pulled a business card from his wallet and placed it on the desk, “here. Put my number in your new phone when you get one”.

You stayed mute, but your eyes followed his hand as he gently put the card down.

“Will you be okay? For money, I mean?” he asked as his hand rested on the doorhandle, “because I can…”

“I’ll be fine Buck, I always am”.

“Yeah doll, I know”, he said softly.

Neither of you said goodbye. Maybe it was too hard to actually say the word out loud. Speak it into existence and accept its reality. So, he just nodded at you, and you smiled back, and you tried not to think about the tears glistening in his eyes or that painful tugging in your chest.

A few seconds later he was gone, and then it was as if he’d never been there at all.

[dekuneho]

late evenings ☆ ( prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive

Your ears ring from the absence of noise as you shut your room door behind you. The static buzz of the electric fan is barely a reprieve — it's pin-silent and unnerving, bereft of light and life.

"C'mere," a voice rasps out, shattering the quiet.

Instantly, your nerves settle at the familiarity of your boyfriend's timbre. Your eyes are still straining in the unilluminated room, but with the slivers of dappled moonlight, it's easier to piece in how Katsuki is taking up the room. On your bed for two.

It's cold as you breeze to him, your skin still quivering from that fresh shower, smelling of Katsuki's shampoo and your favorite body scrub. But it's warmer as you snuggle up to him on the sheets, his arms swiftly pulling you closer by the waist. Every tension you've been keeping wounded tight releases all at once. Katsuki's leg throws itself over your hip like you're a walking body pillow.

"You're late," he says.

"I have a curfew?"

"Idiot." Katsuki still looks displeased. "Did you even eat?"

You nose his collar, smiling in that secret giddy way whenever Katsuki makes you feel so warm and cared for. "Mm. Saw the plate you prepared for me. Little cold."

Katsuki flicks at the exposed skin by your hip. "Don't complain. Your fault for working overtime."

"Missed you, too, Katsuki," you say with great forbearance, languidly pushing off just enough to catch his expression.

In the filtered light, you can make out how Katsuki's still got that cute scrunch of pale brows. His eyes are stark red, watching. You wait patiently — he looks like that when he wants something.

A shiver lances up your spine as Katsuki's fingers brush over the nape of your neck. His skin there is cold from the chill of your legs and the room, compared to the heat that's rushed to your face and everywhere around it whenever you're around Katsuki.

"Cold," you say, wincing away.

Katsuki keeps you still. "Warm it up then."

He really did miss you. It's just his dick seems to have missed you more. "…You want to have sex right now?"

Katsuki's head dips in a single nod. To prove his eagerness, he brushes his hip over your leg, where you feel his hardness under his sweatpants like a brick of heat. You swallow in nothing in particular, knowing firsthand how he can do you so well, but sleep is already clawing at you.

"Let's just do it tomorrow," you say, unable to hide your amused smile. "My legs are already sore, Katsuki!"

Katsuki groans in frustration, though his face portrays a kicked puppy more than anything. "Fine," he snarls. "Not tonight. Just ignore my dick suffocating down there, I guess."

"Kinda hard when it's so big."

You laugh when you feel it twitch against your thigh. Katsuki swallows the sound up with a searing kiss in retaliation, and your giggles melt easily into sounds of pleasure. Katsuki's cold hands travel up your spine, but they don't do anything else, warming itself up on the blossoming warmth there.

Katsuki breaks away, muttering, "Don't complain when I wake you up."

"What? To you humping me like a dog?" You kiss his scrunched nose. "Tomorrow; it'll feel so much better tomorrow. I’ll make you feel good."

Katsuki jerks away. "Fuck you, stop saying sexy shit!"

A laugh bubbles out of you again. Katsuki's face softens nearly imperceptibly.

He shifts until your face is buried under his chin — to hide his expression, maybe, but you have no complaints surrounded by his scent. With this, it's impossible to resist the call of sleep. You're dead to the world when Katsuki's fingers trace mindless circles by your waist, but you don’t miss how Katsuki sneaks in a kiss to your forehead before you go.

[evanbi-ckley]

He feels like he’s being weighed down. Like he’s under water or a heavy blanket. His limbs are heavy, and he can’t get his eyes to open. There’s muffled sound nearby, but he can’t make out anything coherent. He’s also really warm. Uncomfortably so.

Is this what death is like? Is he in Hell? Or something Hell-adjacent? Were all the fire and brimstone idiots he refused to give the time of day actually right about something?

But then the heat is gone and there’s a cool breeze that skims across his skin.

Does he have skin? Do people feel their skin once they’re dead?

He’s still debating with himself as he gets pulled further under.

~***~

What is that annoying, repetitive sound? Did he change his alarm? Why the fuck can’t he turn it off?

~***~

It hurts.

Why does it hurt?

He can’t even tell what hurts, but something fucking hurts.

If he could just open his eyes and get up to take some ibuprofen.

Also his nose itches. Why can’t he fucking scra-

~***~

“Fucking bees.”

~***~

He’s warm again, but it’s not uncomfortable this time. 

He feels safe. And alive. 

He doesn’t feel as weighed down anymore.

It’s difficult, but he cracks his eyes open. He’s - in the hospital? That’s definitely a hospital ceiling and hospital lights and hospital machines beeping.

He turns his head to the left - slowly - and sees his arm is in a giant cast. That explains why he can’t lift it.

He turns his head to the right just as slowly. He’s surprised to see a head of curly hair lying next to his hip, a large hand in his own. 

When he flexes his hand, the curly head pops up immediately.

The man looks at him with bloodshot eyes that clearly haven’t seen sleep in days. He’s young - not alarmingly so but certainly younger than Tommy. The stubble on his jaw has gone far past 5 o’clock shadow and has entered the realm of beard, making him look slightly older. But who -?

“Tommy?” the man asks. His voice is low and raspy, possibly unused.

“Uh,” Tommy says. His own voice sounds even worse.

Without hesitation, the man turns - without letting go of Tommy’s hand - and pours a cup of water from the pitcher on the table next to the bed. Then he brings the cup up to Tommy’s mouth, a bendy straw pointing toward him.

Tommy drinks slowly, his mouth feeling like parchment that’s been left out in the sun too long. 

“Thanks,” he says.

The man sets the cup down and says, “Yeah, so um, h-how do you feel?”

He thinks for a bit, taking stock of himself.

“Sore. Numb in places. I assume they’ve got me on the good stuff?” The man nods, a cute smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “But there’s also the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen sitting next to me, holding my hand. So all told, I’m doing pretty well.”

The tips of the man’s ears turn pink, and a cute blush spreads across his cheeks. Adorable.

“You don’t have to flirt so hard, Tommy. You should know by now, I’m a sure thing.”

Ah, so -

“So we’re,” Tommy gestures vaguely with his head, “together?”

“Uh,” the man laughs uncertainly, “for about six months now, yeah.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up. “But you’re so…” He trails off, not really knowing where he was going with that.

“So…what?” the man prods.

“Take your pick,” Tommy says. “Young? Pretty? Out of my league?”

“Sweetheart.” The man says it like they’ve had this discussion before, but he’s smiling. “Don’t try to amnesia your way out of being with me. I called dibs forever after our second date.”

Tommy smiles lazily. “Dibs forever, huh?”

“Yep. You’re stuck with me.”

Humming as if he’s considering the pros and cons, Tommy finally says, “I guess I can live with that.”

The man’s smile is blinding. “Evan,” he says. “Evan Buckley. In case you forgot.”

It comes back to him then - a cruise ship rescue in the middle of a hurricane, a basketball game, a kiss, a first date that ended terribly, more dates that ended perfectly, slow dancing in the kitchen, long nights together that ended too soon. A call during a bad storm, total engine failure, glass and fear and rain and acceptance and trees and blue eyes and a smile like warm sunshine.

“Evan,” Tommy says, pulling him closer. “Baby.” He kisses him softly. “I love you more than anything. How could I forget?”

Evan has tears in his eyes and leans their foreheads together when he says, “Don’t ever do that again. I thought I lost you.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I thought so, too. I thought I’d never get to see you again. I’m so sorry.”

The next kiss is wet with tears - Evan’s or his own, it doesn’t matter. They’re here, and they’re both okay, and they’re together. That’s all that matters.

“I love you, too, by the way,” Evan says once they pull apart. “Can’t believe you waited to tell me until after you almost died, but I’ll take it.”

“I’ll say it every day until I actually die, okay?” he says. He gets a smack to his good shoulder for his effort, but they’re smiling too hard for it to have any weight.

There’s a long road ahead with recovery and therapy and stubbornness and frustration, but they’ve got this. They’ll get through it all. 

Together.

part 1

part 2

part 3

also now on ao3!

[iamakinniecollector]

something stupid

a/n: well, I thought about it a bit and I think I'll try to write my ideas for bill cipher x reader, I love him so much, I can't wait to get his book ^^ (sorry if my english is wrong, it's not my native language, and I'm terrible at handwriting too)

warning: bill is the trigger itself, cringe, a little g0re, stalker

summary: bill can't say the words "I love you", so how does he show his love?

— Bill hates saying the words “I love you”, instead he prefers to hand you a bouquet made of guts, you don't know if they're made of human guts or... anyway, it definitely doesn't matter what they're made of, right?

— Bill hates saying the words “I love you”, instead he prefers to sing karaoke with you while you are both completely drunk.

— Bill hates saying the words “I love you”, instead he prefers to say stupid and some even silly pick-up lines, like:

“Do you come here often? what a coincidence, me too! Did you know that?" you two are in your house.

— Bill hates saying the words “I love you”, instead he prefers to ask how your day was, even though he already knows what it was like because he’s been stalking you all day. You can't blame him for enjoying hearing your voice!

— Bill hates saying the words “I love you”, instead he prefers to own rats and use them to spell your name on the door of his house, it’s cute in a way, but it’s extremely stressful to get all those dead rats out and he knows it.

— Bill hates saying the words “I love you”, instead he prefers to watch you sleep at dawn, he listens to your breathing and the beautiful beating of your heart, but don’t worry! He doesn’t do anything to you while you sleep… every now and then you wake up with a pen scratch on your face, lucky for you that pens aren’t permanent.

— Bill hates saying the words “I love you”, instead he prefers to spoil you and at the same time be spoiled (most of the time he prefers to be spoiled), this triangle is pure need juice, he is just a pre-teen.

— Bill hates saying the words "I love you", it's a stupid and idiotic phrase that humans invented, but sometimes he can't help but feel the urge to say something stupid like: I love you.

a/n: yes i made this based on the song "something stupid" let me be a stupid cringe

[rosemariiaa]

~Lasts Firsts~

pairing: Paige x Azzi

a/n: yes i did lose my mind writing this but i had to! this is also my apology for the last fic.. 🤗 this is pretty long so take your time babe, also some tags @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @bueckerscore @juspeaks

themes: fluff, teasing

Enjoy!!!

It was barely 8:00 AM when Paige rolled over, her arm draping across the empty space next to her. She blinked into the early morning light, trying to shake off the sleep. She could already hear Azzi in the bathroom, humming softly, the sound so familiar it brought a small smile to her lips.

Last media day together.

The thought lingered like a weight on her chest, bittersweet and heavy. She dragged herself out of bed, feeling that familiar ache in her muscles from practice the day before, and made her way to the bathroom.

Azzi was standing in front of the mirror, twisting one of her curls between her fingers. Paige leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of her girlfriend’s morning routine—how peaceful she looked, even though they both knew today was going to be pretty emotional.

“Ready for the chaos?” Paige mumbled, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Azzi turned her head, giving Paige that small smile she always had when she knew Paige was nervous about something. “You asking me or yourself?”

Paige snorted, stepping closer until she was leaning against the counter beside Azzi. “Both, I guess.”

They didn’t say much after that, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Paige stared at her reflection for a moment, the weight of everything finally sinking in. Last media day, last season. After this? The WNBA.

“You think we’ll survive?” Paige asked quietly, her tone light but not really joking. Azzi met her eyes in the mirror, and for a second, Paige saw all the emotions they hadn’t really said out loud. There was excitement, sure, but underneath it was that uncertainty, the looming unknown of what came next.

“Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softer than usual. “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna be fine. You’ve been ready for this.”

Paige didn’t respond at first, just dropped her gaze to the sink. She’d been thinking about this a lot more than she’d let on. The WNBA wasn’t just another level—it was the next chapter of her life. And as much as she knew she wanted it, there was a part of her that was terrified.

“What if I’m not, though?” Paige’s voice came out quieter than she meant. “What if I mess this up? I mean… WNBA? That’s a whole new ballgame.”

Azzi turned around fully now, leaning her hip against the counter. She reached out, gently grabbing Paige’s wrist, thumb brushing over her skin in that way that always calmed her down.

“You’ve been playing against pros for years, P. You’re gonna go in there and do exactly what you do best. And… don’t forget you’ll be up against Diana, you’re probably gonna block her shots and then she’ll talk all kinds of shit you know how she gets,” Azzi teased, trying to pull Paige out of her thoughts.

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension in her chest easing just a little. “I can’t wait for Diana to “hate” me.” Azzi smirked. “Just don’t embarrass her too much.”

“Oh, I will. But not before embarrassing your Aces,” Paige shot back, her grin widening as Azzi’s eyes narrowed in mock warning.

“Excuse me?” Azzi gasped dramatically. “You better not mess with my team. If you even think about beating them, I’ll fly out there and beat you up.”

Paige laughed, leaning into Azzi, her forehead resting against hers. “You’re cute when you threaten me.”

“Not a threat, babe,” Azzi replied, her smile softening as she tilted her head just slightly, brushing her nose against Paige’s. “I’m dead serious. Leave the Aces alone.”

Paige wrapped her arms loosely around Azzi’s waist, finally letting herself breathe. For a second, she could forget about the future. It was just the two of them again, standing in their shared apartment, holding on to each other before the world outside came rushing in.

———-

By the time they arrived in the gym, the chaos was already in full swing, with half the girls making tiktok’s and going crazy per usual. The cameras, the bright lights, the reporters—it was all routine by now, but this time, everything felt heightened. It was their last one. The final first.

Paige watched as Azzi stepped in front of the camera, her expression automatically settling into her “game face,” the serious one she always had before interviews. Paige stood to the side, arms crossed, watching with amusement.

“You look like you’re about to kill somebody,” she muttered under her breath as she moved to stand beside Azzi for their photos. Azzi shot her a look. “I’m just focused.”

“Focused on terrifying everyone,” Paige teased, nudging her with her shoulder.

Azzi tried not to smile, but it broke through anyway, and Paige could feel the tension between them melt a little as they fell into the easy rhythm of their chemistry. They took their usual photos, Paige throwing her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, and their traditional piggyback pose, the same way they’ve done a thousand times before. But this time, the air between them felt different—heavier, full of all the memories they shared.

After the cameras stopped flashing, they hung back for a bit, watching the rest of the team get their moments in front of the lens.

“This feels… weird, right?” Paige said, her voice a little quieter now.

Azzi just nodded. “Yeah. But… it’s also kinda nice, knowing we did this together.”

Paige looked at her, her chest tightening with that familiar feeling of bittersweetness. “You’re gonna make me cry.” Azzi gave her a teasing smirk. “That’s my plan.”

———-

The media day madness finally wrapped up, and before Azzi could even think about unwinding, Paige had dragged her back home with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What are you planning, Bueckers?” Azzi asked, standing in the doorway of their apartment, her arms crossed. “You’ll see. Just get dressed,” Paige said with a grin, shooing her toward the bedroom.

Azzi rolled her eyes but went along with it, emerging a few minutes later in the white tube top with Paige’s pink cover-up and those low-waisted jeans that Paige always went quiet about. She gave a little twirl, watching Paige’s eyes darken slightly.

“Stole my clothes again, huh?” Paige asked, leaning against the wall, trying to look unfazed.

Azzi smirked. “You love it.”

Paige just shook her head. “Get in the car, weirdo.”

They spent the car ride to the restaurant in comfortable silence, the only sound being Paige’s playlist—songs she’d carefully picked over the years, ones that always made her think of Azzi. At some point, Mitski came on, and Azzi hummed softly to the tune, stealing glances at Paige, who was drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

“So, P,” Azzi started casually, “how nervous are you to play against Diana?”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “I’m not nervous are ut playing against Diana. I’m nervous about her kicking my ass after I block her.” Azzi laughed, the sound light and warm. “She probably will. I’ll be sitting courtside, watching her destroy you.”

“Thanks for the support babe,” Paige muttered, but she was smiling. Azzi always knew how to pull her out of her head when she got too wrapped up in her own thoughts.

“And just remember,” Azzi said, her tone a little more serious but still playful, “if you mess with the Aces, I will find you madison.”

Paige threw her a sideways glance. “Oh, I know. You won’t have to find me—I’ll be waiting for you.”

Azzi grinned. “You better be.”

———-

When they got to the restaurant, Paige made sure they sat in a booth—one where she could sit across from Azzi and just look at her. It wasn’t the most subtle thing in the world, but Paige didn’t care. Azzi caught on, of course, giving her a raised eyebrow.

“What? I just like looking at you,” Paige said with a shrug, grinning like she hadn’t just been caught.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous.”

They were mid-conversation when the waiter came over, a girl with a bright smile who seemed way too interested in Azzi. Paige noticed immediately, her smile dropping slightly as the woman complimented Azzi’s hair, her outfit, even her smile. Azzi, as usual, was completely oblivious.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, flashing the girl a casual smile, but Paige could see what was going on, and it annoyed her just enough to act on it.

Without a second thought, Paige reached across the table, placing her hand firmly over Azzi’s. The waiter glanced down, her smile faltering as she realized the situation, quickly taking their order and backing off with a stiff nod.

Azzi blinked, glancing down at their hands before looking back up at Paige with an amused expression. “Was that jealousy?” Paige scoffed. “No, that was me stopping her from embarrassing herself.”

Azzi grinned, squeezing Paige’s hand. “Uh-huh. Sure, Paige.”

After dinner, the laughter between them hadn’t stopped. Even as they waved goodbye to their server, still teasing each other about that moment of jealousy, the warmth between them stayed, making the whole night feel like a dream.

Azzi didn’t even bother pulling out her card when the check arrived. The second she started reaching for her wallet, Paige shot her a look, the kind of look that said, don’t even think about it. Azzi had seen that look so many times before and just grinned, leaning back in her seat as Paige effortlessly snatched the check, sliding her own card inside before Azzi even got a chance to protest.

“Every time?” Azzi asked, her tone half-amused, half-resigned.

Paige just shrugged, a cocky smile on her lips. “I like spoiling you. What can I say?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the truth was she loved it too. It was a Paige thing—doing little things like this without asking, always showing she cared in her own way.

After they walked out of the restaurant, Paige naturally slipped her arm around Azzi’s waist like she always did. It wasn’t even a conscious move anymore; it was just how Paige was. Her hand rested comfortably against Azzi’s side, pulling her a little closer as they walked down the quiet street. Azzi leaned into her touch, feeling the warmth from Paige’s body and the comfort that always came with being this close.

Paige’s grip was gentle but firm, protective in a way that Azzi had always loved. It was something Paige did, even when she didn’t realize it—holding her close, like she was making sure Azzi knew she was always there, no matter what. It made Azzi smile, thinking about how many times Paige had held her like this over the years, whether after a tough game, during quiet moments between them, or just walking down the street like this.

They kept walking, laughing softly, the cool night air brushing against their faces, but neither of them seemed to notice. Everything felt easy between them, and Paige, in her usual way, kept the conversation light. Azzi could tell Paige was doing it on purpose, making her laugh to keep them from thinking too much about all the changes on the horizon.

They were about halfway to the car when Azzi suddenly slowed her pace, and Paige’s arm tightened slightly around her waist, glancing over with a curious look.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her voice casual but her gaze full of affection.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She stopped, turning toward Paige and stepping in closer. Paige’s arm never left her waist, holding her in place like she always did, her body warm against Azzi’s side. Azzi stared at Paige for a long moment, just taking her in—the messy hair, the soft smile, the way she was always so present, so hers.

“I love you,” Azzi said suddenly, her voice soft but full of all the emotion she had been holding in. It wasn’t planned—it just came out, like it had been sitting on her chest, waiting for the right moment.

Paige blinked, a smile tugging at her lips as her eyes softened. Her hand on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, pulling her just a bit closer. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice gentle, almost like she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to hear those words.

They both stood there for a second, letting the words hang between them. Then, without thinking, Azzi reached up and cupped Paige’s face, pulling her in for a kiss. Paige didn’t hesitate, meeting her halfway, her lips soft and warm as they kissed in the middle of the street, the world around them fading away.

Paige’s arm stayed wrapped securely around Azzi’s waist as their kiss deepened, and it felt like everything else just melted away. It wasn’t rushed or frantic—it was slow and full of love, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

Azzi could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her own, steady and strong, and she knew, in that moment, that no matter what happened, no matter how far apart they might be in the future, they’d always have this. They’d always have each other.

When they finally pulled back, Paige’s forehead rested against Azzi’s, their breaths mixing in the cool night air. Paige smiled, her hand gently caressing Azzi’s side. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?” she whispered, her voice teasing but full of love.

Azzi grinned, her thumb tracing along Paige’s cheek. “Forever.”

———-

yeaa…that was a lot and so darn cute 🥹

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part three.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

there is angst in this part !!!

summary: you and spencer have an absolute blast doing the livestream, but then you open your mouth. oh no.

word count: 3286

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

You had two days until the livestream, which means you and Ang would be conspiring nonstop for the next 48-or-so hours. That FaceTime call lasted much longer than necessary, and when you both came into the office today you were both clearly exhausted. But that’s okay, because you were not only going to get your friend back, but hopefully gain a partner in the process.

“Jeez, Peach, you’re looking rough today.” Spencer greeted you in the kitchen, and you immediately glanced up and around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear that. Just last night you were wishing he would call you Peach at work, but now it felt… strange. To actually have it happen. That must have been Angela’s doing.

“Yeah, I was up pretty late. I think I finally went to sleep around four just to turn around and wake up at eight. Plus, I was tossing and turning all night, so the sleep I did get wasn’t even restful.” You put a small amount of concealer on because your eyebags were so dark today, and it was still shoot week. Next week it wouldn’t matter all that much because you’d be in your pod locking in on other things, but since you still have three days of shooting to be done, you had to at least try and cover it up. You usually didn’t venture into the comments for your own mental, but you knew if you didn’t put something over them, someone would inevitably comment ‘wow y/n looks like shit today’. And of course, that would be the one comment out of all of them that you would end up seeing.

Spencer rubbed your upper arm lightly, offering more comfort than you expected from him as of late. It was nice. You let a smile spill across your face, but broke eye contact to stare at your shoes. 

“You want one of my Kickstarts? I know they make your stomach upset but maybe the energy might help?” He held an unopened can out to you, and you took it. He was right, you usually had a stomach ache after drinking a Kickstart, but you felt so dead it just might be worth it.

You popped the tab and took a sip, thanking him for his generosity. Angela had definitely talked to him more in depth than she let on, meaning she definitely knew more than she let on. So now you had to worry if she was conspiring with him as well. Not that she would do anything to sabotage you behind your back, but what if she coaxed both of you into a silly plan that will end up falling through?

//

The two shoot days before the livestream were both pretty much the same as always. You and Angela stayed up well into the night hatching a plan, Spencer let you drink his Kickstart and brought you coffee and Red Bull Thursday morning, the day of the stream. You picked up your energy for the shoots, and did your best to keep up with conversations and plans off-camera as well. Spencer was back to his usual physically affectionate self, and he had no trouble saying ‘I love you’ back when you said it first, if you said it first. Whatever Angela was doing behind the scenes on his side was working, because it almost felt like you didn’t need to do some big thing on the stream now. You had what you wanted: your best friend back. Sure, you want more than that, and as far as you knew, so did Spencer. But why introduce the potential of a severe falling out when this was working just fine? You’d been best friends with Spencer for nearly eight years now, that was all you had ever known. Friendship. Was it worth the possibility of losing all of this? Just to—what, gain a different label?

You said as much to Angela while you two were eating. The kitchen and eating area were fairly empty while everyone was setting up for the stream. Spencer, luckily, was needed on set so you knew he wasn’t around to hear you wax poetic about him. Again. As you seemed entirely incapable of doing anything else, lately.

“I don’t know, I’m just starting to wonder if it’s all worth it. Like, sure, I gain the new label of ‘partner,’ but what else is going to change? We already act like a couple anyway, according to you and Erin.”

Angela put her hand on your shoulder and looked into your eyes, piercing through to your very soul. “Y/N, I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, but you don’t just gain the label. You gain all the benefits and happiness of a relationship and you also don’t have to keep hurting yourself. You want to be with Spencer, and he wants to be with you. Instead of not allowing yourself that happiness, and pushing it down constantly to try and come off as ‘normal’, you can just be normal. Also, as far as I know, you and Spence haven’t kissed or gone on any dates and I do believe that’s a perk that comes with dating someone. Especially someone who already knows everything about you. Instead of you two having to tread the murky beginnings of a relationship, you can hop right into it because you both already know so much about each other. Sure it might not feel entirely different at first, but imagine how relieved you’ll be when you don’t have to stop yourself from complimenting him, or staring at him, or blushing whenever he so much as breathes in your direction.” Angela pushed her food around on her plate, pondering if she should keep talking. She was working hard to make this happen, because she loved you both and knew you both deserved to be happy with each other. But Y/N was stubborn, and Spencer was just… hard-headed sometimes.

You held your breath for a moment, letting her words sink in again. Angela wasn’t always so verbose but when she was, it was serious, and you had to really listen. And, of course, she was right. You keep hurting yourself by pushing these feelings away, and you know that they’re reciprocated, so why keep pushing? “You’re right, as always.” You beamed at your best friend, feeling hopeful that this would work.

You knew the stream was set to be starting in about thirty minutes, so you stood up to throw your trash away and get ready. But before you could walk away, Angela grabbed your wrist. “Just so you know, and you didn’t hear this from me, but everyone here wants you two to start dating. Erin sent those memes in thinking it would kick your asses into gear but it didn’t work as well as she thought it would, I guess. Also, a lot of Smosh fans ship you. There’s a few compilations on YouTube if you’re curious. Just some food for thought.” She smiled brightly before leaving you to ponder on that.

You decided to pop your headphones in and do a quick check on that “compilation” comment. You weren’t due to set for twenty more minutes, so you clicked on a five minute compilation titled “Y/N and Spencer being soulmates for 5 minutes and 28 seconds”. Soulmates. It was accurate, to you, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach. You only got a few clips into the compilation before you started to get a little too warm. You freshened up your face and deodorant in the bathroom, and set off for the stream.

//

Everything was off to a good start. You fiddled around with a few songs, and Spencer, of course, was holding perfect conversation with you while also getting a 96% on Expert mode. It was time to start executing your plan, and you knew Angela was right off to the side watching.

“Okay, so, I didn’t tell you this,” you started, glancing at Spencer, “but I did some extra training without you.” You smiled nervously, hoping he wouldn’t be mad at you.

“No way! Cheater.” Your best friend was gleaming at you, and despite his words, he seemed a bit proud. “You just wanted to impress me, didn’t you, Peach?” 

He definitely expected you to falter at the mention of your nickname while on stream, but you held strong. If you blushed, then you blushed. You didn't really have a say in that.

“Well, of course I did. Anyway, I made sure we added one of my favorite songs to the game while you were busy running around setting up, but it’s only mapped on Expert mode. You think I can do it?”

“I believe in you wholeheartedly.” You could tell from the smile on his face that he wasn’t joking. Well, here goes nothing.

“Okay, close your eyes because I have to scroll and find it and I don’t want you to see which song it is.”

“You said it was one of your favorites, right? Can I guess?” Spencer had both hands over his eyes, under his glasses, which made him look quite silly. And while he did know a lot of your favorite songs, you were pretty sure you hadn’t mentioned this one to him.

“Go ahead,” you urged, scrolling through the menus for a few seconds before asking Alex the best way to get to the song.

“Okay, let’s see here. Is it Andria by La Dispute?”

“Nope.”

“Avocado, Baby by Los Campesinos!?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ this time.

“Change by Djo?”

“Ah, there it is!” You had finally found the song, after a few too many minutes of scrolling around. The chat didn’t seem to be bothered by the current lack of commentary because they all still seemed to be reeling about Spencer calling you Peach. Which was fair, because mentally you were also freaking out a little bit. But you had more important things to worry about than the blush that was definitely painting your neck and face.

“I was right?” Spencer moved his hands, “Oh, no I wasn’t. I didn’t know you liked The Corrs?” He looked back at you now, and you thought you heard him comment on your blush. But you could rewatch later. For now, you needed to slay this song.

“Spencer, of course I like The Corrs.” You locked in on the song, hitting every single note with ease. You found yourself singing the song too, and Spencer joined in not long after you started.

“Can’t hide it! Can’t fight it! So, go on, go on! Come on, leave me breathless. Tempt me, tease me! Till I can’t deny this loving feelin’! Make me long for your kiss!” You were both singing your hearts out, and you were simultaneously shredding on the fancy guitar controller Spence had secured for Smosh. The chat was going wild, but neither of you thought to even ask about it. The song ended and you managed to get a 92% on Expert mode, while singing and conversing. That was the best you’d ever done on a song, and you had no doubt it was because your best friend was next to you singing with you. 

//

The stream ended after about an hour and a half, your voice hoarse from singing and cheering and yelling. You had picked Breathless by The Corrs because you knew you had never mentioned liking them to Spencer, but the lyrics of the song were just too accurate for how you felt. And you and Angela both knew you wouldn’t be able to actually get a confession out, so you were hoping the song was enough to give Spencer the push to say something himself. And him singing the song with you certainly did something to your insides, but these days everything that man did made your stomach flip. And you were okay with that. You could get used to that. Maybe you even wanted that. You wanted Spencer, unabashedly.

Angela pulled you down the hall away from your other coworkers to ask how you felt. “I don’t know how I feel, to be honest. It was nerve-wracking and stressful at some points, but I don’t know, singing one of my favorite love songs with the man I’m currently in love with was an incredible feeling.” You were so happy and so bubbly you didn’t even realize your wording.

Until you noticed Angela was staring at you.

“What? Oh, fuck. Okay, yeah, I didn’t mean to say that. Um, Just... I’m really high on energy right now, is all.” You let out a soft chuckle, trying to walk back your statement. But she had heard it, and Angela wasn’t exactly one to let things go. “Angela, please do not mention this until we have both clocked out and left the building. Then you can go crazy, but just wait until then. Please,” you quietly begged. It was going to come up again – no doubt about that. But you couldn’t do it while you were still here. You didn’t have anything left to shoot today but you did have some paperwork to do and some marketing stuff to work on, and Tommy asked you to be in a TikTok earlier in the week so that still needed to be done too.

“Okay, okay. I’ll wait. But you will be hearing from me as soon as I park my ass on my couch at home,” Angela whispered back, attempting to meet your volume level but mostly failing.

“What’re y’all whispering about over here?” Spencer had come down the hallway, a Kickstart in one hand and your favorite flavor of Red Bull in the other.

“We’re conspiring on how to break YouTube's streaming rules on a livestream and get away with it, why?” You supplied, knowing he would appreciate a little joke after a somewhat-tense livestream. Maybe the livestream was only tense for you, though. You graciously accepted the Red Bull as he handed it to you.

He did laugh, luckily, and turned towards Angela, “I think Arasha would be a better co-conspirator for that. Y/N is too nice to break internet law.” He smiled at you now, and put his hand on your shoulder, his warmth spreading through your body.

He was always so warm, and you religiously ran cold. It was one of many ways you two fit together so well. You both balanced each other out in all the best ways, Spencer giving more where you had to give less, and vice versa. He always knew just what you needed, and just when you needed it. In so many ways, your friends were right. You were already a couple, basically, without the main perks of being together. You weren’t able to cash in on the parts of the relationship that you really craved – you wanted to kiss him, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms, you wanted to spend lazy Sunday mornings in bed with him and let him teach you all the video games you didn’t understand. You wanted Spencer in a way you couldn’t put into words. It was a visceral need deep inside your bones; an almost bothersome, unending ache. Your want for him outweighed any other emotion you could possibly feel.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could take it.

“Hey, Ang, can I talk to Spence alone for a second?” You smiled innocently, knowing she’d see through it.

“Oh, of course. I’ll talk to you later! Love you both!” She yelled, speed-walking away like her life depended on it. She was halfway down the hallway before she even finished her sentence.

Spencer and you turned to face each other, and suddenly your throat was quite dry. You remembered, gratefully, that he had brought you a Red Bull. You held a finger up to communicate that you needed a second, and then downed half the can in one go. You burped quite loudly afterwards, apologizing for the loud noise.

“You good, brother?” Your best friend inquired, his hand finding his favorite place on your wrist. He always touched your wrist when he was worried about you, a small gesture that always made you light up inside. Despite his overall relaxed demeanor, you could tell he was a bit anxious. His other hand started fidgeting not long after you asked Angela to leave.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Okay, so I’m going to word vomit right now. I know you’re going to want to tell me to shut the fuck up, but please let me just puke it out and then I promise you can have the floor afterwards. Okay?” He nodded, and you started again. “I love you, Spence. You know that, right?” 

Spencer’s fidgeting picked up speed and you grabbed both of his hands in yours, hoping to quell any anxious thoughts forming. You rubbed your thumbs on the back of his hands, realizing once again how warm he was. “You know that, right?” You reiterated, needing the confirmation before you moved forward.

“Yes, Y/N. I love you, too. You also know that, right?” You could hear his voice shake a little, tempting you to try and hurry this up so as not to stress him out. You still wanted it to come out coherent and somewhat romantic, but you weren’t sure if you could handle him being so anxious. 

You smiled, intertwining your fingers with his before continuing on. “Yes, I do. But I’m also lying to you every time I tell you that.” Spencer’s face very quickly dropped at this, prompting you to remind him to let you word vomit and that everything was okay. After you two shared some deep breaths, you continued on.  “I say I love you, and I mean it, because I do, but… honestly for years and years now, I’ve meant it differently than you might mean it. I do love you, but not as a friend. Spencer, I’m so head over ass in love with you. I’m tired of fighting it, I’m tired of hiding it, I’m tired of everyone making jokes at our expense. If you don’t reciprocate, trust me, I understand. I won’t be upset. I just hope you can forgive me for potentially ruining this friendship. But, I need to be honest with myself and most of all, with you. I love you, Spence, and not as a friend. And I’m hoping you can be okay with that.”

You took a deep breath, letting your words wash over him while you tried to quickly recuperate from the intense reeling in your brain. If everyone else at the Smoffice was right, he did reciprocate. But now you weren’t so sure. He had been silent far longer than you expected. You pulled yourself out of your head to look at Spencer, finally, having been looking at his hands in yours to try and center yourself.

But, he was crying. “Oh, god, Spencer. I’m sorry, that was not cool of me, we’re at work. I’m sorry, I’m... I’ll go.” You disconnected your hands and ran for the office doors, not bothering to grab your bag or keys or phone. You just really needed to be away from everything right now. If he called after you, or if anyone did for that matter, you didn’t hear it. You needed to get out. And you needed to get out now.

You made your best friend cry.

After telling him you loved him and wanted him in a way he couldn’t give to you.

How badly did you just fuck everything up?

✧˖°.⁺‧˚ ♡ ˚‧⁺ ✧˖°.

I'M SORRY aaaaaaaa

taglist: @lokidokieokie <3

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

00.3. your last day with quinn

➴ warnings: mention of a restrictive diet, constipation.

➴ word count: 1.7k

➴ author’s note: this was supposed to be a cute, hurt/comfort chapter but. i listened to madison beer while writing this so things took a turn and now it’s just depressing. at least there’s still some hurt/comfort here :,)

౨ৎ

2017, SEPTEMBER.

YOU were having the worst day ever.

It was a Friday, and one of those days where anything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong. First, you woke up at half-past five with a fever that made your entire body shiver. Your pajama was glued to your body, sticky with sweat. You sat on the bed, immediately regretting it because your head started spinning and suddenly you needed to throw up everything you’d eaten for dinner last night.

You felt like shit even when you managed to shower, sitting on your bathtub and letting the tears fall from your face. You felt so tired. It had already been a very stressful week, with your Mom forcing you to attend castings and auditions, making calls here and there so you could get the jobs she wanted for you, controlling everything you ate and drank.

On top of all of that, Peter and Quinn were leaving for college and you were sure you had never felt so alone before.

Quinn became your favorite person in the entire world when you both met four years ago. He was so important to you, and even though sometimes your heart didn’t understand what exact feelings you had for him, you needed him in your life.

The friendship you’d built over the past four years meant the world to you. How he took care of you, and how he tried to balance his career with still trying to be present in your life. How he would always ask about how you were doing in school, or about your dreams and wants. How he had introduced you to his family and how Jim and Ellen were nice to you, letting you come over to do your homework with Jack or Luke.

How sometimes you’d find Quinn practicing in their homemade ice rink, and you’d watch him for hours, impressed by his moves and skills. How sometimes you’d notice his hair falling out of the helmet, the sweat decorating his face and his blue, greenish eyes that would stare at nothing but the puck.

So when you found out he was leaving for Michigan? It hurt more than anything else, even if you were extremely happy for him.

You got out of the shower, feeling your body hurt everywhere. You were thankful that your classes didn’t start until next week and you didn’t have any auditions today so you could just jump right back in your bed.

Which was exactly what you did, sleeping like the dead after letting your tears fall for a bit more.

You woke up a few hours later, with a soft touch on your arm. Opening your eyes and immediately feeling them getting wet, you saw Quinn standing beside your bed.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he said, smiling. “Maria let me in. You didn’t come say goodbye to me.”

Your sick, tired brain took a little while to process what he was saying. Until you looked at the digital clock that sat on your bedside table, reading 11:34 a.m., Friday, 6 September.

Fuck.

You tried to get up, but your body still felt heavy. You were still shivering underneath the covers and your throat hurt.

“Maddie?” You could see he had stopped smiling.

You tried to smile, feeling the need to reassure him. “I’m sorry. I forgot to set an alarm,” you lied, trying to get up again and, thankfully, succeeding this time. “I’ll be downstairs in just a minute. Sorry.”

Getting up didn’t exactly mean success, since your legs failed after five steps and now you were on the floor, with your knee hurting like a bitch.

“Maddie, what,” Quinn said, quickly coming to your rescue, like he often did. You had a headache? Quinn had the right medicine for it. You hurt your finger? Quinn wrapped your hand with a bandage. You were hungry? Quinn was already in the kitchen making your meal. “What’s going on? Are you sick?”

“No, just— I just woke up.” You didn’t know why you kept lying to him and you felt like shit, but it was his leaving day. The Hughes were moving back to the US, so that Jack and Luke could join the NTDP in Michigan and Quinn could go to UMich. And it couldn’t get worse, not really. “I’m fine.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Madison,” he hissed, angrily. You frowned. Quinn had never gotten angry at you, not even when you managed to ruin his hockey uniform with glitter. “You’re sick. Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, as he walked you to bed again. “I am fine, Quinn. It’s just constipation or whatever.”

“Stop acting like this is nothing, Madison.”

“Stop calling me that,” you frowned, annoyed for no real reason. You were going to miss them so much.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whispered, feeling your eyes tearing up again, the fever making you shiver.

He stopped scowling for a second, softening his eyes at you. He sat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh, which you promptly grabbed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s just— I hate when you act like what happens to you isn’t important.”

You squeeze his hand, feeling less cold now.

“You’re like my little sister, so watching you sick is just as upsetting as it is with Lukey or Jack,” he chuckled, laughing like he hadn’t just shattered your feelings right there.

You didn’t know exactly what you felt for him, but you knew for a fact it wasn’t that silly admiration you had for him when you were little. You were fifteen now, and just when you were supposed to crush on the boys at your school, you were always comparing them to Quinn instead. And Quinn is always better than them.

Not to mention that he’d been getting cuter. He was losing his teenager features and it didn’t help it with your little infatuation for him.

Hearing him confirming that you were nothing but a family member to him stung. This was definitely the worst day of your life.

“Right,” you whispered, releasing his hand and wrapping your arms around your body. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go downstairs and say bye to you all. I’m sorry for that.”

“We’re only leaving at night so don’t worry. We’ll make sure you’re feeling better until then.” He replied, getting up.

“Where are you going?” You asked, confusion taking over your face.

“I’m gonna ask Maria to make some soup for you while I go look for some cold medicine,” he put his hands inside his jeans pockets, something he did often, and smiled at you. “Do you think you’ll be fine here for ten minutes?”

You nodded, watching as he poked your cheek before leaving your room.

You laid down for a while, trying to organize your thoughts. You still didn’t understand what the Hughes leaving meant to you, only that you’d miss them like they were your own. Because for a while, that’s what they were.

You must have snoozed again because next thing you know, Quinn was shaking you lightly again. You opened your eyes, staring at him.

“Maria made you chicken noodle soup and I brought you juice and pills,” he pointed at the tray on your desk, smiling.

You got up, sitting up against the headboard, and thanking him as he placed the tray on your lap.

“Mom would probably kill me if she knew I’m eating noodles,” you joked, coughing loudly. Ugh.

“I won’t tell her a thing, promise,” he quickly said, sitting on the chair beside your desk, resting his hands on his knees, as he watched you eat. “Can’t believe we’re actually leaving.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“You will come to visit us, right?”

You placed your spoon inside your bowl again, staring at Quinn’s face, trying to memorize all of his features at once. His upper lip, slightly thinner than his bottom one. His wavy, brown hair, messy and untamed, so beautifully shaped. His eyes, darker than Luke and Jack’s, but still bright and vibrant. His nose, big and cute and your favorite feature on his face.

Oh, you were going to miss him so much.

“‘Course I will,” you mumbled, shoving the last spoonful of soup into your mouth. Lying to Quinn always felt wrong. “I’m… I’m gonna miss you,” His eyes softened, and before he could speak, you continued. “You made my life so much easier. You and your family are so important to me so thank you.” You felt your eyes watering, and you looked up. No crying in front of anyone.

“Oh, Maddie,” he got up, removing the tray from your lap and putting it back on your desk, so he could sit beside you. “There’s no need for tears.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and tell him you’re okay but you only managed to let more tears fall from your eyes.

He placed your head on his shoulder, pulling the blanket until it reached your chin, covering you completely. Then, he gently grabbed your hand underneath and held it tightly.

“I’ll be only an one hour flight away, Maddie. Our house is your house too.”

You sniffled, feeling your body starting to hurt again.

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t want him to leave, that you needed him in your life and that you loved him. A young, unripe love that made your chest hurt every time you thought about it.

But you knew that you were just being selfish. Ever since you met him, you knew Hockey was his life. It is his favorite thing in the world, and it means a lot to them.

So you would never tell him anything. No. At least one of you deserved to be happy.

“I know,” you mumbled. “Can I take a nap?”

He chuckled beside you. “Yeah, ‘course. Not before you take your medicine though.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the rest of your face under the cover, hearing Quinn’s soft laugh.

Little did you know you’d keep that sound safe and secure in your heart, for the rest of your life.

[allurilove]

“What happened to all the other yanderes that’s not getting a continuation fic?”

Congratulations to yandere boyfriend and reader for graduating, and starting adulthood! Now that they are done with college (well the reader is), they continue to live together. Yandere boyfriend works at a cafe while his partner has a more “adult” job.

Yandere professor hasn’t seen the reader after they graduated. The reader moved back to their hometown, and they lost touch. Yandere professor does check readers social media. It makes him feel better to see that they are doing okay. He can’t bring himself to message them, and he assumes that they have already moved on from their relationship.

Dumb Yandere had gone missing for a couple of days actually. You found him shivering underneath a park bench, and absolutely drenched from the rain. He got lost after you sent him on an errand to go buy cheese. You had a search party looking for him, you got the police involved, and yet here he was. You brought your husband home, ran him a warm bath, and he slept soundly in your arms.

Yandere chaebol hasn’t made it official with reader. They do bang, sleep in the same bed, and occasionally parent his kids together. He doesn’t want to go through the whole marriage thing again, so he won’t propose. Yandere chaebol did apologize to his ex-wife, and he’s sort of on good terms with her now.

Yandere survivor is still following the reader around. He pleads with them to let him fuck them again with his dick that’s on a stick. He tries to woo you, but the reader barely budges. He lost his foot after a human attack, and you made him a peg leg. He’s still alive for now.

Yandere knight almost died multiple times. He had shielded you from an attack. Someone wanted you dead and gone, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. He eats your food to make sure it’s not poisoned (and it was), he double checks every horse to make sure that there wasn’t a bomb strapped to it, and he forced himself to stay awake for months. He would stare at you while you slept, quietly from the corner of your room. Yandere knight was upset that reader was married off to another man, and nearly killed your fiancé. Yandere knight is now in the dungeons.

Yandere prince had killed all of his siblings and parents, except for one. One of them had slipped away from him, and he now sleeps with a dagger underneath his pillow. Yandere prince became a King, and the reader is his queen. Yandere prince is now a father to twins.

Yandere classmate had gone to his dream school. Which meant that someone else had to keep a careful eye on the reader. His trusty butler that had been with him since he was a baby was the one to take care of the reader. The reader is locked away in his house, and hasn’t seen their friends and family in a while. Yandere classmate got back home after graduating, and he proposed to reader.

Yandere neighbor still continues to live right next to reader. He did go on a couple of dates with them, and he became great friends with reader. Yandere neighbor does occasionally still peep into the readers house, and he mentally keeps tabs on all the people that comes and goes.

Yandere farmer had proposed to reader, got married to them, and now their farm has a huge litter of kids. He loves his kids, and he teaches them how to properly take care of the animals.

Yandere mothman has become a permanent resident in the readers home. He has his own room that has a lot of natural light, and it was quite cozy. Even if he can’t mate with reader, his fuzzy dick has made it inside their mouth a couple of times.

Yandere prodigy continues to have wet dreams about his enemy. He doesn’t know how to stop them, and he has even thought about working for a different music group. He knows he should get away from the reader, and he continues to give the reader the cold shoulder. He stays as a nasty little freak behind the readers back, and relishes at any sight of their exposed skin.

Yandere best friend pursued his dreams and he became a chef. He opened his own restaurant after college with the help of his parents. The reader was his first customer, and he has a selfie of them eating his food posted up onto his wall. Yandere best friend and the reader are going steady, and sometimes go on dates.

Yandere camp counselor is still in the friend zone.

Yandere manager is still the readers manager (what a surprise). He is a bit more lenient after the reader proved that they could be responsible, and he lets them drink once in a while. Yandere manager hasn’t made a move yet, and probably never will.

[eccentricallygothic]

This Moment

What Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers does after he has tamed you (for the time being) and you're no more than his sensitive little baby wife <3 

Continuation of my oneshot, Wrong Turn, because of this ask. 

Warning(s): Post rough fuck, you're knocked out full of cum, all the Wrong Turn warnings apply honestly, fluff. MDNI.

Steve doesn't have to bite back his smile anymore now that he's in the privacy of your chambers with no one to line the horizons of his senses but you and only you. 

The lamps burn dimly, as if aware of the situation, gentle breezes caress your flush, bruised and sticky skin as you sleep with your belly bloated from his cum, your small form curls under your husband's huge one that is draping over yours in how he leans above you with his elbow next to your head to hold himself up, your mouth is parted as you exhaustedly snore and Steve cannot help but snort as he runs the wet rag along the many ‘love marks’ he has given you tonight. 

His usually pushed back and kempt silver-blonde hair is in what he would consider to be a state of disarray though you have suggested him in one of your more… amiable moods to wear his locks like that. It falls over his forehead and above his dark blue eyes, golden whiskers appear to be poking out from behind his ears due to the state of his hair and his toned, beast-like body is nude against yours. 

Steve doesn't care for these things because they're natural and he would be caught dead before he ever let himself be seen like this or admit his capacity for all this to you, but in this quiet moment of his pure masculine triumph and existential bliss where his dear young wife sleeps utterly ravished and brimming full of his children, he will clean the sweat, spit and cum off your skin with a rag and gentle water. 

Of course, being a man who is expected to rule with an iron fist, and as husband to a brat like you, he has to keep things in a balance and not let his irrational urges overpower his better sense, Steve will tell you that it was the attendants who took care of you while you were asleep if you ask. But right now, in here, on this night that is pleasant only because you grace his bed, he will do this for you because he knows that you do not like to roll around in your own filth, as you mumble sometimes and think he doesn't hear. He knows it is difficult for you to sleep with that feeling lingering over you regardless of how exhausted you may be. 

And so he will do this, so when he envelopes you in his arms, you don't toss or turn in discomfort but melt into his embrace in that way he is addicted to. 

You let out a sleepy whimper and mumble gibberish when his fingers graze a particularly sensitive mark on one of your boobs and he cannot help but chuckle, momentarily abandoning the rag there to push your hair away that your mild unrest causes to fall over your face. His dark blue eyes are uncharacteristically bright in the dim lighting as they dance over your form, his hairy cheeks bend and his rosey mouth forms a smile. 

Steve cooes at you like you're no bigger or older than the babies in your belly, his coarse and scarred fingers trace the side of your face as they savour the outlines of the specifics of your features, his usually cold and calm heart leaps up into an unfamiliar flutter and that's it, he cannot bear it anymore. He needs you against him; molded into him. The man does not wait to find out what he will do if he cannot feel your heavy breaths fanning his skin, if he cannot feel your heart thump into his chest and if cannot feel the warmth of your tender skin draping around his hard one. He cannot. It is in these moments with you when all his wisdom and patience wears away and all he can think of, like a boy in his adolescence, is you.

You, you, only you.

So he snakes an arm around your shoulders with a desperate urgency and pulls you into him, gently picking up the rag again as he carefully places you on his chest that is a bed of itself, one hand tenderly caressing your back whilst the other hastes to capture any spots he may have missed. 

Of course, it will not be perfect and he will not be able to get them all simply because those are not things that are in the business of a man like Steve to know. 

But he will have tried. 

And as you softly smile to yourself and nuzzle closer into his beastly chest, you reckon that's all that matters. 

Especially coming from someone like your husband.

In this moment, at least.

MASTERLIST

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

*rattling the bars of my cage making feral growling noises* I love your writing so much and I love when you foreshadow/reference character traumas I love how you write characters I love how you write generally and I want to consume your writing the way a hippo consumes a watermelon

"What are we going to tell my brother?" you ask, laying on Logan's chest in the darkening bedroom.

"I'll figure it out," he snorted, kissing the hand that was holding his. Fuck worrying about Wade. For the first time in he didn't know how long, you were relaxed. And your heart rate seemed normal. He knew for a fact you'd had at least one good meal. And if he played his cards right, you'd eat dinner and sleep. "Don't you worry your pretty little head."

"He's gonna be pissed."

"Not for long," Logan said reasonably. "And not at you. He told me not to fuck you. He didn't tell you not to fuck me."

"Still."

"Still nothing. You pay your mother an allowance so he can play dead and he doesn't have to go home for Christmas," Logan scoffed. "Which is stupid, by the way-"

You raise your head and look at him, "So you wanna go meet my mom?"

"No."

"Then let sleeping dogs lie."

Logan felt his eyes narrow and he growled.

"It's easier," you tell him. "I don't want-" You break off and lay your head back down, "she likes me better at a distance. But doesn't figure that out until she's up in my face."

"Doesn't make it not bullshit."

"I know." You sigh, "But unless you want her here and- ugh. No. No thanks. It's bad enough watching other women flirt with you at bars. I think if I had to watch my mom do it I'd probably flip shit."

He snorted, "She's not my type. Or havin' my baby." He patted your backside and shifted your weight a little to be able to kiss your head. "So. Wade was your mom's favorite. Your dad wasn't around-"

"I was Wade's favorite- when he was around," you tell him. "But- he was just a kid too, you know?"

"He's still a kid," Logan scoffed. And from the sounds of it, you never were. Either sick or trying to hold the shards of the family together in your little hands.

"Lo-"

"I'll make it all work out," he soothed. And if he got his way, you weren't going to be paying your mother anymore.

[gyubakeries]

your work is so so sooo good. you write angst and fluff so well wow. could i please request a similar drabble with seungkwan? any plot is great, just the same loving doting boyfriend as in your seungcheol drabble

𝗯𝗮𝗻𝗱-𝗮𝗶𝗱 | b.sk

a/n: hi anon! im so glad you liked the seungcheol drabble <3 thanks for requesting this!! kwan is so bf material... this wasnt really hard to write lmaoo. hope you like this!

word count: 2.2k contents: seungkwan x afab!reader , idol!seungkwan , waitress!reader , domestic fluff , mentions of injury (just a small cut) , a little angst , but we get comfort so thank you kwan , set right after nana tour , seungkwan being a pro-nagger

"y/n, just go home," your co-worker, hyeri, sighs. "i'll cover for you."

"i'm fine, hyeri," you shake your head, continuing to wipe down the empty tables.

"you look dead from the lack of sleep," hyeri counters, taking the cleaning rag away from you. "i could see those dark circles under your eyes from miles away."

"are you telling me i look like a panda?" you gasp, and hyeri shoots you an unimpressed look.

"go home, or i'm calling seungkwan up," hyeri threatens, and your eyes widen at the mention of your boyfriend's name.

"are you crazy? don't say that out loud! you never know when someone is listening!" you whisper-yell. dating an idol from a famous kpop group was a tough job, especially when their fans could be lurking anywhere.

"there's literally no one here," hyeri points out. "because it's closing time. now go home before i kick your ass."

"but-"

"non negotiable," hyeri cuts you off. "you've closed every night for the last two weeks, so let me do it now. go home and get some rest, y/n. i'm worried about you."

your shoulders slump. you hated that hyeri had to do your job, but a tiny part of you felt relieved to be going home and finally getting some shut-eye.

"thank you so much, i'll treat you to lunch soon," you say. "at the expensive hot-pot place you like."

hyeri squeals with excitement, and you can only smile at her antics before heading out to the back of the restaurant, grabbing your things, and leaving for the day.

it's almost midnight by the time you're stepping into your apartment. you immediately head into your bedroom to put your phone on charge, it having died sometime during the day while you were working. you quickly go into the bathroom to take a shower, eager to get clean and finally hit the bed, unaware of the text messages lighting up your screen while you shower.

once you're dressed in comfortable clothes, you tuck yourself into bed. you wait for sleep to claim you as soon as your head hits the pillow, but..... it doesn't.

you lie awake, staring at the ceiling blankly. you feel so tired, but your eyes refuse to shut. the frustration overwhelms you, threatening to make unshed tears spill from your eyes. just when you thought things couldn't get worse, your stomach starts rumbling loudly.

groaning because of this unfair situation the universe decided to put you in when all you wanted was to sleep, you get out of bed and walk into the kitchen, hoping to make some ramen for yourself.

you open the cupboard to fetch some instant ramen after putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. while waiting for the water, you take out an egg and some green onion from your fridge.

the ramen noodles go into the water and you take out a knife to chop up some green onions, just to be fancy. just then, a wave of tiredness washes over you, making your eyelids droop.

you yawn, carelessly cutting the green onion. a combination of your exhaustion and your vision blurring with tears as you yawn again makes you miscalculate where your knife lands, and in the blink of an eye, there's a gash on your index finger, bright red blood oozing out of it.

"shit!" you exclaim, rushing to the kitchen sink to run some cold water over your finger. in your panic, you barely register the door to your apartment opening and your boyfriend walking in.

"y/n! i'm ho- shit, what happened?" seungkwan gasps, seeing you hunched over the kitchen sink. he rushes to you, dropping his bag to the floor. he nearly screams too when he sees the cut on your finger and the blood spilling from it.

"wait here, i'll get the first-aid kit," he snaps into action, but you stop him.

"switch the stove off, or the next mess we'll have to clean is the ramen," you instruct, pointing at the ramen bubbling dangerously on the stove.

seungkwan does as you say, and then rushes into the bedroom to find the first-aid kit. he's back in the kitchen in no time, holding a box of band-aids, some cotton, and.... a sharpie?

the cotton turns out to be drenched in warm water, which he uses to clean the wound gently. he then takes a band-aid out of the box and carefully wraps it around your finger, making sure to cover the cut entirely. and then comes the role of the sharpie.

seungkwan pulls the injured finger closer to him and takes off the cap of the marker. his eyebrows furrow with concentration as he brings the pen to the band-aid, drawing something onto it.

when he releases your finger, you see that he's drawn the face of a puppy onto the band-aid. your heart melts.

"kwan, that's so cute!" you squeal, momentarily forgetting about whatever had just happened. and also the fact that your boyfriend was an expert at nagging.

"yah, y/n, don't you think you should be more careful?" seungkwan scolds lightly. "what if the cut was deeper? or your finger got chopped off? what if i hadn't come home at that time? you didn't even know i was going to come! do you know how worried i was when you didn't read my texts?"

your smile is quickly replaced by a frown, and you suddenly feel tired again. seungkwan notices the abrupt change in your mood, and immediately feels bad for scolding you.

"babe, i'm sorry," he apologizes, coming closer to you to take your hands in his. "i was just really worried, you know?"

you only nod in response. you weren't upset because of seungkwan, but because of how pathetic and monotonous your life had become over the last few weeks.

"y/n, talk to me," seungkwan tries, not liking the distant look in your eyes. he could also tell that you were tired from your pale and sullen face. "is everything okay?"

his concerned tone feels like a hug to all the turmoil in your head, and that prompts the first few tears to escape your eyes. you look up at seungkwan, and his distressed expression only upsets you more, making you sob louder.

seungkwan doesn't hesitate for a second, pulling you against his chest in a warm embrace. you inhale deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne that never fails to soothe you.

"how about we lay down?" seungkwan suggests after a while. you nod again, so he carefully guides the both of you towards your bedroom, gently pulling you down next to him on the bed, his arms never leaving your waist.

"do you want to talk about what's been bothering you? was it what i said?" seungkwan asks once your sobs had reduced to sniffles.

"i'm tired." you state. it's the truth, but it's far more complex than just tiredness.

"of course you are. not sleeping for a week does that to people," seungkwan replies in a matter-of-factly tone.

"how did you know that?" you ask, genuinely surprised.

"hyeri texted me earlier. i would have gone to pick you up after your shift, but my dance practice was still on," he answers. "so, what's been up with you? missed me so much you couldn't sleep?"

he said it as a joke, but the words strike a sensitive spot.

"i did," you answer truthfully. "i missed you a lot. it felt like hell without you. and i'm used to months of not seeing you, but this time we couldn't even text because you were busy filming, and it's ridiculous of me to complain about it because it's literally your job, but i missed you a lot. i tried sleeping but i couldn't. not without you texting me a stupid meme vernon sent you before nagging at me to go to sleep. not without you there to hold me. it was torture, kwan."

seungkwan's eyes widen slightly at your rant. he knew long distance was tough, and you two had been through a lot together, but he knew something else was bothering you. you weren't the type to break down this easily.

"i missed you too, babe," seungkwan sighs, pulling you closer to him. "i hated not being able to see your face, especially after i promised to meet you after i came back from japan."

"it's okay, kwannie, i understand," you knew that seungkwan himself wasn't aware of the surprise trip to italy, so you can't really blame him. he also needed that week-long break, especially after having worked so hard.

"thank you, love," seungkwan mutters into your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp to alleviate some tension. "but there's something else that's troubling you. i noticed that you were always worrying about something for a few months. you seemed aloof, and i tried to bring it up, but there was never time. what's up?"

"i feel like i'm stuck," you explain. "my life isn't moving forward. it's the same routine of go to work, clean tables, serve food, come home and do chores, and then repeat. i've wanted to do so much more, but i'm just stuck here."

seungkwan's heart breaks at the exhaustion in your voice. you had told him about how you've always wanted to have your own restaurant, which was the only reason you were working in a restaurant yourself.

"babe, it's okay to feel tired sometimes," he comforts you. "there are times when even i feel like i'm stuck in a rut. go to the studio to record, practice room to practice choreo, attend interviews, and repeat it all again. at the start, even i had doubted getting myself into this career, but i realized how deep my passion for music was, which is why i stayed. and the members too, of course."

"i know you love food and cooking, so just stick to your passion. don't give up on it. your big break will come one day. plus, you know mingyu and i will gladly fund your restaurant. you just have to ask, baby."

seungkwan's words have this ability to heal all your wounds. they're like a soothing balm to your sore body, and you're so thankful to have such a caring and loving person in your life.

"if i start my restaurant, i want to do it myself," you crack a small smile. "you're always free to help with the interior design, though."

"thank god, your interior choices are.... questionable," seungkwan teases.

"hey! you can't say that to me!" you pout, but seungkwan doesn't relent.

"seriously? do i have to remind you of that hideous statue of a chihuahua you bought? because you thought it was cute?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow at you.

"it was cute, okay?" you say defensively. "plus, i gave it away because you refused to enter my apartment if it stayed!"

"there was nothing cute about that abomination," seungkwan shudders. "it was a chihuahua wearing red pants and an orange bow-tie. anyways, my point is still valid. i'd be glad to help you design your restaurant."

"thank you, kwan," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. "you always know what to say to make me feel better. how do you do it?"

"i'm magical, baby," seungkwan shoots an over-exaggerated wink at you, making you burst into laughter. "can i say something even better? i'll get all the members to come to your restaurant and we'll post it on our instagram. that kind of publicity would boost your restaurant to the big leagues instantly."

"sure, baby, you can bring all the guys," you nod, endeared by how enthusiastic seungkwan was. you've had a lot of people doubting your plans for your future career as it had bleak prospects, but having seungkwan by your side had reassured you to follow your dreams. he had never lost faith in you, even on days when you yourself gave up on your goals, and it had motivated you to a great extent.

"you've been by my side through everything, y/n," seungkwan whispers softly, looking into your eyes with nothing but adoration and love. "i can't wait to see you grow and become the brightest star too. i'll be there by your side, just like you've been there for me."

"seungkwan- i-" you're at a loss for words. his words are so genuine, and you really don't know what you'd done in your past life to have someone love you so entirely. "i don't even know what to say."

"maybe start with, 'oh my god, seungkwan, you're the best boyfriend ever!' or maybe even 'you're so cute it makes me want to cook my special ramen for you.' any one of those works really," seungkwan says cheekily, and you playfully slap his chest, followed by a loud yawn from the both of you.

"let's have ramen for breakfast tomorrow," you mumble sleepily.

"i gave you another option...." seungkwan sulks jokingly, making you laugh.

"oh my god, seungkwan, you're the best boyfriend ever!" you giggle, speaking in a shrill voice to sound like one of the many fans who fawn over seungkwan. humming with satisfaction, seungkwan presses a loud smooch to your forehead, squeezing you tightly, and then releasing you. your bodies never stray too far away though, always closely intertwined with each other.

and when you wake up the next morning, well-rested and to the sound of seungkwan singing along to girl group songs in the living room while cleaning, you forget about everything that had been weighing you down.

the band-aid on your finger covered the wound on your finger that healed slowly, and seungkwan's love was the band-aid on your heart, healing something he never broke.

- fin.

[muiitoloko]

Lionel Smut? 🫣

Title: Hard and Late

Summary: Lionel’s powerful thrusts and teasing comments make it clear he’s not in any rush to leave your bed, despite the important meeting he keeps mentioning. Caught between work and pleasure, Lionel shows you just how far he’ll go to make you come first.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for your order, I truly appreciate it! 😊

Also read on Ao3

Lionel’s body was warm behind you, his chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed against the back of your neck. But the hard press of his morning wood against your ass was impossible to ignore. You stirred slightly, and the movement made Lionel groan softly, his hips instinctively pushing forward, grinding his arousal more firmly into you.

You were barely awake, but the sensation was enough to bring you out of your sleep, your body unconsciously responding by pushing back against him, nestling your ass against his hardness. Lionel felt it instantly. His breath hitched, and he could feel himself getting even harder, his cock throbbing with anticipation.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice thick with arousal, barely a whisper against your skin. "You’re going to drive me mad, darling."

His hand, which had been resting lightly on your hip, slid down, his fingers brushing against the curve of your waist as he pressed himself harder against you. He wanted you to wake up, needed you to feel how badly he wanted you. His fingers dug into your skin as he ground his hips into you again, the thin fabric of your underwear doing little to hide the fact that you were starting to get wet.

You shifted again, letting out a sleepy murmur, still caught in that hazy place between sleep and consciousness. Lionel, however, was wide awake now, his mind racing with dirty thoughts of what he was going to do to you once you were fully awake. He could already feel his cock twitching with impatience, desperate for release. He had spent the night in your apartment—small, cluttered, and with a mattress that he swore had more springs poking him than he’d ever felt in his life. But he didn’t care. You, on the other hand, had slept like the dead, completely oblivious to his growing frustration.

“Wake up, love,” Lionel growled softly into your ear, his voice rough with desire. “I need you.”

You shifted again, a little more awake this time, and the moment your hips moved back against him, Lionel let out a low, guttural groan. His hand moved to your ass, giving it a possessive squeeze as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck.

“Christ, do you even know what you’re doing to me?” he whispered, his voice dripping with need. “I’ve been hard all bloody night, waiting for you to wake up.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, the sound turning into a quiet moan as Lionel’s hand slipped lower, his fingers brushing over the damp fabric between your legs. “Looks like you’ve been busy,” you teased, your voice still thick with sleep.

Lionel shifted slightly, his face contorting in mild annoyance as yet another spring from your mattress poked into his back. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, making a mental note to get you a new mattress. The thought of buying a mattress for someone amused him. Of all the gifts he had lavished on women before—jewelry, designer clothes, expensive vacations—he had never once considered gifting a mattress. And yet, here he was, contemplating it, which made him chuckle softly to himself.

You would never accept it, though. Not you, the damn proud photographer. The one woman who seemed completely immune to his wealth. Lionel both loved and hated that about you. On one hand, your refusal to take anything from him was refreshing; it showed that you weren’t in this for his money. On the other hand, it drove him insane. He was used to women fawning over him, accepting his gifts with wide eyes and open arms. But you? You had your own money, your own success, and you didn’t seem to care for his riches at all.

Well, that, Lionel thought with a smirk, or you were an incredibly skilled actress. Either way, he tried not to dwell on it too much. Not when you were pressed against him like this, your ass grinding against his hard cock, your sleepy murmurs driving him wild.

His hand slid up from your waist to your breast, squeezing it possessively, feeling the soft weight of you in his palm. “You know,” he murmured in your ear, his voice a low, gravelly purr, “it wouldn’t kill you to invest in a better mattress, love. This one is absolute rubbish.”

You let out a soft sigh, shifting your hips slightly, pressing back into him again. “This mattress is fine,” you mumbled, still half asleep but clearly enjoying the attention he was giving you.

Lionel scoffed, his fingers pinching your nipple lightly as he leaned down to press a kiss against the nape of your neck. “Fine isn’t exactly the word I’d use,” he said, his voice dripping with playful disdain. “But if you’re comfortable sleeping on something that feels like a medieval torture device, who am I to judge?”

You groaned softly, both at his teasing words and the way his hand continued to knead your breast, his touch firm yet gentle. “Not everyone can afford the finest things in life, Lionel,” you said with a hint of sarcasm, but he could tell you were smiling.

He chuckled against your skin, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hand drifted lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. “That’s where I come in, darling,” he purred, his fingers teasing the soft, wet heat between your legs. “Let me spoil you a little... maybe then I can spoil myself with you.”

You shivered at his words, your body arching back against him, the thin barrier of your underwear doing little to stop the rising heat between you. Lionel loved the way you responded to him, even if you pretended not to care. He knew exactly what buttons to push to make you melt.

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles over your clit, teasing you, making you gasp softly as he pressed himself harder against your ass, his cock twitching with anticipation. “I could make you feel so good, love,” Lionel whispered, his voice thick with lust as he kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you tremble. “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t care what mattress you’re on.”

You let out a breathless moan, your hand gripping his forearm as his fingers moved faster between your legs, your body already humming with pleasure. “Lionel…”

“Mmm, that’s it, darling,” Lionel growled, his hand tightening on your breast, his other fingers slipping inside you, feeling the wet heat of your arousal. “You know you want it… you always do.”

You bit your lip, your body betraying you as you pushed back against him again, grinding against his cock. Lionel grinned, knowing he had you right where he wanted. His fingers pumped in and out of you, his palm rubbing against your clit, drawing soft whimpers from your lips. “Say it,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Tell me you want me.”

Your breath hitched, and Lionel smirked as he felt you tighten around his fingers. “I want you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you gave in to him.

“Good girl,” Lionel growled, his fingers pulling out of you just long enough to flip you onto your back, his body moving on top of yours in one fluid motion. His knee pushed your legs apart as he settled between them, his cock pressing insistently against your entrance. “Now, let’s see if I can make you forget about that bloody mattress.”

Without another word, Lionel thrust into you, burying himself deep inside with one powerful motion. You cried out, your back arching as he filled you, his body pressing you into the mattress, making you feel every inch of him.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Lionel groaned, his hips moving in slow, deep strokes, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. “So tight… so perfect.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more demanding. “Lionel…”

“That’s it, love,” he growled, his lips crashing down on yours as he fucked you harder, his hips slamming against yours with each thrust. “You’re mine… all fucking mine.”

The room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing, the wet slide of his cock moving in and out of you, and Lionel’s low, guttural groans as he lost himself in the pleasure of having you beneath him. He loved the way you responded to him, the way your body gave in to every command, every touch.

“Come for me,” Lionel whispered, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub your clit, his fingers moving in quick, precise circles. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

Your body tightened in response, your hips bucking up against him as the pleasure built, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Lionel grinned, knowing exactly how to push you over, his hips slamming into yours with a force that left you breathless.

Lionel’s grip tightened as he shifted one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up even more for him. The change in angle made you gasp, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as his cock thrust deeper, harder into you. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. The last thing you needed was another complaint from your neighbors about the noise. They were already too familiar with Lionel’s visits, and while you adored him, you weren’t ready to move just yet, despite his many offers.

Lionel’s low chuckle rumbled against your skin as he noticed your efforts to stay quiet. “Trying to keep quiet for your neighbors, love?” he teased, his voice dripping with playful malice as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wouldn’t worry about them. If you scream loud enough, maybe they’ll just be jealous.”

You groaned softly, your nails digging into his back as you tried to focus, but Lionel wasn’t making it easy. Each thrust was deliberate, relentless, his cock filling you in a way that had your entire body trembling with the effort of staying silent.

“I’m serious, Lionel,” you whispered breathlessly, trying to keep your voice down. “I don’t want another noise complaint. They already warned me last time…”

Lionel’s eyes gleamed mischievously as he grinned down at you. “Let them complain,” he growled, his hips slamming into you with even more force, driving you into the mattress. “Maybe I’ll come down there and explain to them just how well I’m fucking you. Or better yet,” he smirked, “I’ll buy you a new place where you can scream as loud as you want.”

“Leo!” you gasped, both in pleasure and frustration as you tried to stay focused on the present. “I told you—I’m not moving. And I don’t want you buying me an apartment.”

He grinned down at you, his expression full of that cheeky arrogance you both loved and hated. “Ah, yes. The proud photographer, refusing my wealth,” he purred, his baritone voice teasingly mocking. “I still remember the look on your face the first time I walked into this shoebox. You were so bloody defensive, darling, as if I’d never seen a place like this.”

You rolled your eyes at Lionel, his arrogance as infuriating as it was attractive. “Just shut up and fuck me,” you muttered, your voice dripping with impatience. You knew that cheeky grin of his would only grow wider at your words, but you couldn’t care less right now. All you needed was him.

Lionel, always one to rise to a challenge, didn’t reject your command. In one swift motion, he pulled out of you, flipping you onto your stomach, his strong hands guiding your hips up as he positioned you on your knees. “As you wish, love,” he growled, his voice low and rough with lust.

The next moment, he thrust back into you, his cock sliding deep inside with a force that had you gasping, your body arching into him instinctively. His grip on your hips tightened as he began to move, each thrust hard and deliberate, the sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room.

You bit down on the pillow in front of you, desperate to keep quiet, but Lionel, of course, noticed. He let out a low, amused chuckle, his hips snapping forward with even more intensity. “Trying to stay quiet again, darling?” he teased, his breath hot against your ear. “Go on then, bite that pillow. I want to hear those muffled little moans while I fuck you.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets as he drove into you relentlessly, the feeling of him filling you, stretching you, making it impossible to think about anything else. Your body rocked with each powerful thrust, your back arching further as you tried to brace yourself against the pleasure that was quickly overwhelming you.

But Lionel, ever the calculating man, glanced at the clock on the bedside table, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. He growled under his breath. “Bloody hell, I’ve got to hurry…” He knew he had to be at work soon and still needed to stop by his house to change into a suit. But the thought of leaving you like this, half-fucked and wanting more, was simply not an option.

With renewed urgency, Lionel quickened his pace, thrusting into you harder, his hips slamming against yours as he chased his release. His hands slid up your back, pushing you further into the mattress, your ass still high in the air as he fucked you from behind.

“You’re going to make me late for work, love,” Lionel muttered between gritted teeth, his voice rough and thick with arousal. “But I don’t care. You feel too fucking good like this.” He grinned, his cheeky side never fully disappearing even in the heat of the moment. “I should be on my way by now, but here I am, buried inside you, watching you fall apart under me.”

You moaned into the pillow, your body trembling with pleasure as Lionel’s cock pounded into you, every thrust sending waves of heat through your core. His grip on your hips was bruising, possessive, and you loved every second of it.

Lionel groaned, his control slipping as he felt himself getting closer. “You love this, don’t you?” he growled, his voice laced with satisfaction as he watched you arch into him, biting the pillow to stay quiet. “You love being fucked by me, even when I’m in a rush. You love knowing that I’d rather be late than leave this beautiful body unsatisfied.”

His words only pushed you closer to the edge, your body responding to his every command, every thrust. You felt his hand slide down your spine, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you back against him, his cock hitting deeper, harder.

“Come for me,” Lionel growled, his voice low and commanding. “I want to feel you come around my cock before I leave. Make me late for work, love. Show me how much you need it.”

His words were your undoing. With a muffled cry, you came, your body shaking as the pleasure crashed over you, your walls tightening around him as you reached your peak. Lionel let out a deep, guttural groan, his own release following closely behind. He thrust into you one last time, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with every drop of his cum.

For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the heat between your bodies still lingering in the air. Lionel chuckled softly, his hand brushing over the small of your back as he pulled out of you.

“Well,” he said, his voice low and satisfied, “that was worth being late for.”

You looked over your shoulder, still catching your breath, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you lazily watched Lionel climb off the bed. Your body felt deliciously spent, your muscles humming with the aftershocks of your recent release. “I didn’t know even the boss had a specific time to arrive at work,” you teased, your voice thick with amusement as you settled deeper into the worn mattress, stifling a yawn.

Lionel shot you a cheeky grin, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way that always made your stomach flip. "I usually don’t," he said, standing tall as he peeled off his underwear and let them drop carelessly to the floor. His broad shoulders flexed as he stretched, giving you a view of his body before he sauntered toward the bathroom. "But today," he continued, his baritone voice echoing off the walls, "I’ve got an important meeting I can’t exactly miss."

You hummed in response, though your mind was already drifting back to the half-asleep haze you were in before he woke you up. The warm, post-sex lethargy pulled you back under, and you barely listened to him as he turned on the shower, the sound of running water filling the room. He rambled on, something about mergers, investors, and making sure everything went off without a hitch, but you were only half-awake, not that Lionel seemed to mind.

"Of course, I don’t mind being late," he continued from the bathroom, his voice carrying over the sound of the water. You could imagine him standing under the shower, water streaming over his body as he spoke, always the confident tycoon, always in control. "But today? Even I can’t charm my way out of this one."

You smirked, snuggling back into the mattress, though a slight grimace crossed your face. Damn it, Lionel was right—the springs were poking you in all the wrong places again. The thought of your conversation earlier made you chuckle. Maybe it really was time to replace this medieval contraption.

The sound of Lionel moving around in the bathroom brought you back to the present, though your eyes were already fluttering shut again. You could hear him splashing the water around, the rhythmic slap of his hand against the shower tile as he braced himself, likely going over the details of his day with his usual intensity. You stretched out on the bed, letting out a soft groan as your muscles ached pleasantly.

Lionel emerged a few minutes later, toweling off his wet hair, his body still glistening as he walked toward the dresser to grab his clothes. His eyes flicked over to you with a mischievous grin as he caught you drifting off again. “Don’t get too comfortable, love. That mattress isn’t going to make things easier for you.”

"Mm-hmm," you mumbled, barely coherent, but you couldn’t help the amused smile that curled on your lips. "We’ll see about that."

[yanverse]

Good Morning - Morgan Lane

plot: morgan doesn't want you to go to work <3

(cws: gn! darling, lazy sex, anal, unprotected, fingering, dirty talk, begging, quickie, lil jealousy factor, slight size difference, established relationship)

word count: 2.1k

It was the sun rays peeking through the curtains that had first woken you up, but the rumbling of Morgan's light snores against your back was the second. He had passed out on top of you, holding you like a teddy bear in his sleep, and although he was soft it didn't mean he wasn't strong enough to keep you there. Morgan had always been a big guy, and without some decent leverage or just a convincing argument for him to let you up, you'd watch the minutes on the alarm clock pass by on his bedside until you were late.

“Gotta go to work, baby.” You tried to wiggle out from under him, but Morgan's hefty frame kept you pinned, as did his thick arms around your waist. He whined and mumbled something incoherent into your hair, though it was clear enough that he wasn't intent on letting you leave the bed. “Morgan, c'mon. Can't be late again.”

“Yes you can.” He huffed softly into your ear as he shifted around, finally pulling his head up to reach it so you could hear his sweet, hoarse voice, and feel his chapped lips press kisses to your jaw. You both were a bit raspy from the night before, but from the way your boyfriend had exerted himself he was a lot worse off than you were. Your scalp was sore, your back ached, but aside from that and a smattering of bruises all across your body you at least had some energy to spare. Morgan might as well have been dead weight on top of you–well, except for one not-so-small part that was a bit more excited.

“Morgan.” You warned with a stern tone. He rubbed lazy circles into your hip, the spot where your underwear didn't quite reach and it was just bare, smooth skin.

“‘m not doing anything.” He shifted his hips, but the distinct stiffness digging into your thigh didn't let up. It only moved to align more with your cheeks as he ground it gently against you.

“Yes you are.”

“No ‘m not.”

“Yes you are, Morgan Lane.”

“Can't help it.” Morgan finally moaned, his breath a flutter of air as his hips stuttered. As much as you used it to be firm with him, you knew good and well how much he liked it when you pulled out the “government name” as he called it. Probably just because he really liked bugging you. “Feels so nice…I bet you look so pretty.”

“I need to go to work.”

“Work can go to hell,” He panted, moving up all of a sudden to sit up on his knees. “I'm sick of missing time with you.” The calluses on his huge, warm hands rubbed against your skin as he lifted your shirt up, and squeezed soft handfuls of your ass in his palms as he started playing with it. Your butt had such a hold on him that it drove you crazy, you'd rarely seen such an ass man in your life–although maybe that was in part because he had to feel it to see it, or maybe just because your boyfriend was a deplorable freak in bed.

“Morgan-”

“Pleeeease,” He begged selfishly. “Please, baby, I'll be so good if you give it to me. Promise! I want you so bad…I can't survive the day without a part of you with me..” He put on that false, whiney tone while his whimpers hit your ears like a weak spot and the low, soft rasp of his voice sent tingles down your spine. Morgan knew exactly what he was doing as he groped you, there was no playing innocent with him.

You felt him tug on the waist of your underwear–not enough to yank it down, just to plead silently with you for permission–and just like you always ended up doing, you let out a sigh and a “be quick, then” and he grinned into a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Ultra-speed service, I promise.” He chuckled, tugging the fabric down to your knees.

“That's not something to brag about.” You rolled your eyes, but Morgan had his tongue on your thigh in seconds and you just sort of forgot about it. He liked the tease of inching up closer and closer to your sex, sometimes he'd start at your knees or he'd even kiss his way up from your calves if he had the time. This morning it was quick though, and he spread your cheeks apart with little ceremony as he sucked his two fingers into his mouth. Slowly, he eased the tips of them against your tight rim, but chuckled hoarsely when he felt them wiggle in with more immediate acceptance than he anticipated.

“You like it, huh?”

“Don't start.” You warned, but your tone was undeniably cheeky. You could only hide your small, prideful smile by burying your face in his pillow.

Morgan inched his fingers deeper, taking time not to strain you but keeping a steady pace to make sure he didn't make you too late. You'd already be limping into work anyways with how hard his cock was as it stirred in his boxers.

“Always knew you were fuckin’ dirty.” He murmured under his breath, and when he took that tone with you your legs buckled and started shaking with the intensity of your moans. Morgan liked talking dirty but he always had some anxiety that you didn't, so it was rare that he'd let it go completely and just say whatever came to mind. But he had no idea just how hot it was and how good he was at it, especially with his voice all low and raspy from a night of sleep. God knows how you did any work around him when he was sick. “You like it back here, huh? You like getting your ass played with?”

“Morgan-” You cried out, but only finished with a squeal as he brought his palm down on your behind. He could leave welts if he really tried, but usually some swelling and a bit of soreness was the norm. If you were good, that was.

“Want your coworkers to find out you like this?” He muttered as he straddled himself over you, your thighs pinned to the bed as you listened to the shlick of him freeing his cock and stroking it into readiness. He spit into his palm to work some slickness into it, but obviously realized that wasn't enough as you caught his hand in your peripheral reaching to the nightstand to crack open your bottle of lube. A bit of patting around led him right to it. “Bet they'd think you're a whore. Wouldn't they?” You listened to the squirt of fluid splashing into his hand. With your nails digging into the sheets and gripping them shakily, you nodded into the pillow.

“Good.” He huffed, guiding his sticky, slick tip between your cheeks to nestle in against that tight, rough spot. “Then they'll know I fuck you too good to take you away from me.”

“Morgan–nngh-!” A squeal erupted from your lips, not quite caught by your hands as you clapped them over your mouth, as the bed suddenly dipped and pressure spread you open in an instant. Morgan gasped himself as he slid in too quickly and paused with just the tip inside, his hands planted on either side of your head to grip the sheets in earnest.

“Oh my god, oh my…fffuuck sorry, shit, didn’ mean to–” Your walls pulsed around him and he froze, but his lungs seized to push out an airy moan that was so high you weren't sure he could ever copy it. “Ooohh, honey, are you looking at me? No, right?” He gasped out like he'd just been holding his breath. His hand slid over to thread through your hair, and he felt you shake your head with your face in the pillows. “Mmnh…okay, I got a good picture in my head. Jesus-” Morgan thrusted forwards, burying himself entirely in that impossibly tight space, and his grip on your hair jolted pain through you as he yanked it back. “-fucking christ! Shh-hit-”

It wasn't abnormal for Morgan to get a little lost in the thick of it when he was getting off, but things only grew more intense the longer you spent together. Somehow the honeymoon phase wasn't just a phase, but more like a transitional period; with every mundane effort Morgan got more sensitive to you, he liked you more, he was satisfied easier. You weren't sure what it was about him or you or both of you as a couple, but it seemed like every time you came together your boyfriend grew more attached to you. In fact, it felt like he nearly wanted to be a part of you–especially once he hit a good rhythm, and bucked his hips down with the aim of getting as deep into you as he could possibly manage.

“Feel it in your belly? Yeah?” He moaned from behind, lips flush to the back of your neck. “Ohhh, fuck, fuck–”

“M-Morgan-!” You spluttered out, having finally found your voice. You hissed at him to quiet down, to not wake up your neighbours so early in the morning, but he only bit down on your shoulder and his cries still thrummed muffledly throughout the apartment. You'd just have to accept your fate at this point. Morgan snaked a hand around your waist and pressed his huge, warm palm to your belly. The sensation of him sheathed inside you, whether imagined or really felt, had his hips pinned to your backside as he barely pulled back out to thrust. Every shlick, shluck, shluck vibrated through your body as he let your sweet walls suck him in closer.

His fingertips grazed your scalp to remind you he was there, to ensure his grip on you wasn't forgotten as he rutted against you with moans wasted against your skin. I love you, I love you, I love you. Those words would be his if his teeth weren't sunk into your flesh as he grunted them, humping feverishly to claim that end he wanted so badly. Morgan pitched you forward further into the blankets, weight pinning you completely under him; and with your nails dug into the crisp sheets you'd just washed this week, you felt a cord inside you snap with need that awashed you, suddenly, with an all-encompassing sense of bliss to block out the ache of Morgan's depth. He shuddered, stilled, and your woeful spasming rendered him utterly speechless–he stiffened and blew out each burst of love he'd kept locked up, and only as he did so did he finally melt into your sweat-soaked back like his bones had turned to jelly. His teeth finally unlatched as he shivered out a deep sigh, a kiss placed to your broken skin before he laid his cheek to your spine and puffed out each low, laborious breath in time with your heartbeat.

As the peace slowly returned, your high coming down with relative ease, you shifted slightly only to feel a dribble of hot, sticky warmth pulse downwards. Like glue, it stuck the two of you together, but you nudged at Morgan to move himself apart so you could clean up from the aftermath. For once, he agreed without complaint and slid off of your tired body to roll over on his back beside you. The expression on his face could be described as nothing less than complete, serene bliss as he caught his breath, one of those huge hands perched on his chest.

“See?” He panted, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling. “Super…fast.”

“You made a mess,” You hushed dryly, slipping out of his loose grip on your thigh to head into his bathroom. You wobbled, caught yourself on the nightstand, and although he called out in worry if you were okay, you certainly were. A bit of stumbling was nothing new when Morgan and the bedroom were involved. “I'm taking a shower.”

“Me too?” His face lit up, he heaved himself up on one elbow to face the bathroom door, and before you could stop him with an absolutely not, you mongrel he was already feeling his way along the wall to slip inside. Joining you would almost certainly lead to something even messier, but…it was Morgan. That boyish charm, messy curls, bright, freckled smile as he patted your face and lifted it up to kiss it–the soft rasp of his voice as he let you know how good you were, how nice you felt, how beautiful he knew you were, the hand on your lower back as he steadied you and nudged the dial to spray a hail of fresh, warm water to soothe your aches…and how could you ever, ever say no to that?

[asherraccoon]

Dysphoric- Radioapple- Hurt/comfort, fluff, bit of angst- Trans Lucifer AU, Human AU, College AU

(Monthly period oneshot!!) (Love projecting onto canonically male characters as a trans guy 😋)

(Srsly tho, I get so fucking dysphoric on my periods it sucks 😭)

Lucifer curled up in a ball on his bed. He was in a lot of pain. Right now his cramps were absolutely killing him and making him wish he was dead. He hated his body. It wasn't helping that he had slept in his binder and his chest was hurting. He was too dysphoric right now to take it off, though. He heard the dorm door open and then footsteps coming towards his room. 

Alastor entered the room. “Hey,” he said. 

“Mmh,” Lucifer hummed to acknowledge Alastor. 

Alastor set down his backpack by his bed on the other side of the room. He looked over at Lucifer. “Are you ok?” He asked, noticing Lucifer's pained expression and body language. 

“No,” Lucifer mumbled. “Hurts…” his voice was starting to tremble. 

Then Alastor realized the situation. “Oh…” he walked over and crouched by Lucifer's bed. “Is it..?” 

Lucifer nodded. 

Alastor gently brushed Lucifer's hair out of his face with his hand. “Are you wearing your binder?” He asked. 

Lucifer looked away. “No…” he lied. 

“Luce,” Alastor sighed. 

“I don't wanna take it off,” Lucifer mumbled. 

“I know, love, but it's only making the pain worse,” Alastor said softly. “You're also not supposed to be wearing it while you sleep,” 

Lucifer whined. 

“Are you wearing boxers or briefs right now?” Alastor asked. 

“Briefs,” Lucifer responded honestly. 

“Good. Pad?” 

Lucifer nodded. “Yeah,” 

“Good boy,” Alastor smiled softly and ran his hand through Lucifer's hair. 

Lucifer blushed lightly. “Do I have to take my binder off?” He asked. 

“Yes,” Alastor said. “I know you hate how you look without it, but it's important,” Alastor said. “I'll let you borrow one of my shirts so your chest is easier to hide, alright?” 

“Okay…” Lucifer mumbled. He slowly sat up and pulled his shirt off so he could remove his binder. 

Alastor went into his closet to grab a shirt for Lucifer to borrow. He found one that was softer and comfier than his other shirts and went over to Lucifer.

Lucifer held his shirt over his chest and had his eyes closed. He really really hated his chest. He looked like he wanted to cry. 

“Hey,” Alastor sat down next to him and offered the shirt to him. It hurt to see Lucifer so upset and distressed. 

Lucifer took the shirt from Alastor. “Thanks…” 

Alastor turned away so Lucifer could put it on. 

Lucifer closed his eyes again and dropped the shirt he was holding to his chest. He quickly put Alastor's shirt on and let out a breath. “You can look now,” he hugged his knees. 

Alastor turned towards Lucifer again. He took Lucifer's discarded shirt and binder. “I'm going to put these in the wash, alright? Be right back,” 

Lucifer nodded and watched Alastor leave. He lay down on his side and curled up in a ball again. He could feel the fat on his chest and he absolutely despised it. He was also having extreme pain in his abdomen. He started to cry. 

Alastor came back to his partner crying. “Hey, what's going on?” Alastor asked softly, crouching by Lucifer again and cupping his cheek. He gently wiped away Lucifer's tears with his thumb. 

“Hate this…” he whispered. 

“I know, baby, it sucks,” Alastor gazed at Lucifer sympathetically. He gently kissed Lucifer's forehead. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry at all?” 

Lucifer shook his head. “Not hungry,” 

“I still want you to eat. How about just some chocolate and crackers, yeah?” Alastor offered. 

“Okay,” Lucifer mumbled. 

“Want me to heat up one of your plushies, too?” Alastor asked. 

“Yes please,” Lucifer nodded. 

“Which one? Deer or Fred?” Alastor asked. 

Lucifer had two weighted, heatable plushies. A duck named Fred, which he had since he was 15, and a deer named Deer, a gift from Alastor. He thought about it for a minute. “Deer, please,” 

Alastor nodded. He softly kissed Lucifer's forehead again. “Of course, my prince,” 

Lucifer's heart fluttered at the pet name. He loved being called that by Alastor. But he loved most of the compliments and nicknames Alastor gave him. 

Alastor picked up the deer plush from Lucifer's bed and went to the dorm's kitchen. 

-----------------

Lucifer took Deer from Alastor's hands when offered. He hugged it tightly to his abdomen.

Alastor placed a bag of chocolates, crackers, and a cup of tea on the nightstand next to Lucifer's bed. 

“Al?” Lucifer mumbled. 

“Yes, my darling?” Alastor replied. 

“Can we please cuddle?” Lucifer asked, his voice breaking a little. 

Alastor's heart broke. Lucifer was desperate for comfort. Who was he to deny him that? “Of course, my sweet boy,” Alastor said. He got in bed next to Lucifer and then pulled him close. 

Lucifer leaned into Alastor. His back against Alastor's chest and his head under his chin, basically in his lap. He held Deer on his cramps. “I wish I was a boy,” Lucifer said quietly. 

“Baby, you are a boy,” Alastor said gently. 

“I don't feel like one,” Lucifer said, starting to cry again. 

“My handsome boy,” Alastor lightly squeezed Lucifer and kissed his head. “You'll always be a boy no matter what,” he said reassuringly. “I know your body feels wrong and you hate that, but your anatomy doesn't make you any less of a man,” 

Lucifer wiped his eyes. “I wish I was like you,” Lucifer whispered. 

Alastor squeezed Lucifer tightly. “Darling,” he said quietly. He hated when his boyfriend got so dysphoric like this. He loosened his hug. He cupped Lucifer's face and tilted it up. He placed soft kisses across Lucifer's face. His nose, cheeks, forehead, and then his lips. “You will always be valid, Lucifer,” Alastor said to him. “I will always love and and support you no matter what,” 

Lucifer sniffled and wiped his eyes. “I just wanna be a normal guy… I don't wanna be trans…” he sobbed. “I-I'm s-sorry…” he apologized. 

Alastor hugged Lucifer tight, his face resting in Lucifer's blonde hair. “My sweet, beautiful, handsome prince…” Alastor mumbled. “You know you are a real boy, right?” 

Lucifer let out a small sob. He didn't answer. 

“Love,” Alastor gently rubbed his thumbs over Lucifer's cheeks. “It hurts to see you like this, my love…” 

Lucifer fidgeted with the antlers on his plushie. He sniffled. 

Alastor took a chocolate out of the bag on the nightstand. “Here,” he offered it to Lucifer. “It'll help you feel better,” 

Lucifer took the chocolate and took the wrapping off. He put it in his mouth and chewed it slowly. 

Alastor took the wrapper from him and put it on the stand. He put his hands on Lucifer's hips and gently massaged the area his cramps were at. 

Lucifer let out a soft moan at the sudden rubbing, not expecting it. He sighed quietly and leaned into Alastor. All of Alastor's soft affections and love was making him feel a bit better. “You really think I'm handsome?” He asked. 

“Very,” Alastor said, smiling at Lucifer. “The handsomest boy ever,” he kissed Lucifer's head. “Never forget that, my prince,” 

Lucifer looked up at Alastor lovingly. “You make me feel safe,” he said quietly. 

Alastor's eyes softened. “I'm glad,” he hugged Lucifer tightly. 

“Al?” 

“Hm?”

“Do you think I'm ever gonna be able to get surgery?” Lucifer asked. 

“I do,” Alastor kissed Lucifer's forehead. “I'm going to help you pay for it,” he said. 

Lucifer's eyes widened. “What? You're serious?” 

Alastor nodded. 

“What!? No! Alastor I can't ask you to-” 

Alastor shut him up with a kiss. “Calm down, my sweet prince. I'm going to help you because I want to. You mean the world to me. I want you to feel comfortable in your body. And if that means helping you get surgery, then I'm more than happy to do so,” 

Lucifer started to cry again. “I-I don't deserve you…” he whispered. 

“Aww, baby,” Alastor hugged Lucifer close. 

Lucifer turned to cry into Alastor's shoulder and hugged him back. “I love y-you…” 

“I love you too, my handsome boy,” 

(Here's your guys' break from angst, stop complaining/j)

(BTW this is based on this thingy I found and thought was rlly cute :3)

[topazy]

Tomorrow's promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon × oc, Rick Grimes × sister

Warnings: Swearing, mention of past assault

Chapter: 4.03

You rock back and forth on the floor in a daze, unable to tear your eyes away from the blood beneath your broken fingernails. You wince when the sound of gunfire pierces the air, followed by a thud, and then a few seconds later it happens again.

Your heart pounding in your chest, you listen to what sounds like something heavy being moved, scraping the wooden floorboards.

As you try to process what just happened, you hear Rick’s voice through Shane's radio. You were unsure how much time has passed, but Rick was asking Shane to respond and for his location repeatedly.

This can't be real.

Hearing footsteps approaching your breathing becomes more difficult. Shane kneels down in front of you, and when he attempts to wipe blood from your cheek, you flinch. “Oh baby, what can I do? What can I do?”

“I just want it to stop.”

When you start sobbing uncontrollably, Shane pulls you in for a hug, your face buried in his chest. “You’re safe,” he mumbles. “I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you, never again.”

As you toss and turn in your sleep, your stomach churns uncomfortably. The smell of death seeps into the cell, making the wave of nausea worse. You try to ignore it, but eventually you can't hold it in any longer.

You start to gag, and you’re suddenly rolled onto your side, and someone quickly moves to find you a bucket or something to puke into. You retch for a few agonizing moments, but nothing happens, aside from sweat dripping.

Everything is strange. Someone brushes hair out of your face and dabs at your forehead with a damp cloth. But when you open your eyes, your reality and past start to merge.

You’re no longer in the prison; you’re back in that goddamn apartment.

“Shane… get him off of me.”

—

The room spins around you as you try to sit up, your body weak from being ill. You groan, clutching at your throat as a coughing fit overtakes you. Glenn, whose sitting on the floor stirs from his sleep on the other side of the cell.

Glenn stretches his arms and gives you a pained smile, “glad to see you no longer resemble a walker.”

You go to laugh but end up coughing. When you’ve stopped, Glenn helps you sit upright, and you see how poorly he looks. He was sweating profusely. You go to ask how he is, then it suddenly hits you. Jace isn’t here. “Where’s Jace?”

Glenn brings a cloth to his mouth and coughs into it. “He’s fine. Beth’s been looking after him and Judith.”

“Who else is sick, aside from us?”

You try to get out of bed, but Glenn keeps you back. “Hey, hey, easy. You’ve been out for days.”

Ignoring him, you swing your legs out of the bed and put your head between your thighs. “Carl, Daryl, Rick, Maggie...”

The list was endless.

“A few people who stayed in this block have died. Hershel made tea with the elderberries he and Carl collected, and that’s helped a lot of people. There was a supply run to get antibiotics, but they only managed to get a handful.”

“What else has been going on? Anything about that bastard Philip?”

Glenn shakes his head.

Dealing with walkers was one thing, but knowing the governor was still out there makes everything feel more dark and ominous, like something more dangerous than the dead lurking around each corner.

“I-listen,” Glenn lets out a deep sigh. “I don’t know exactly what's going on with you and Daryl, but I know something changed after Woodbury. He cares about you.”

“I care about him.”

“I know,” Glenn nods his head, agreeing with you, but his tone would suggest otherwise. “I’m only saying this so you're aware; I don’t want to be involved—”

“Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it.”

“Daryl came to see you, and you called out for Shane.”

Your stomach drops.

“Nobody else was supposed to be in this block, but when Daryl heard you’d become unconscious, nobody could stop him. He said if we didn’t let him in, he’d find a way to break the door.” Glenn lets out a small laugh. “Of course we knew he would, so we let him in, and when we reached the cell, you were covered in vomit and had blood coming from your nose. Hershel didn’t know if you’d make it.”

“Oh my god,” tears threaten to spill, but you manage to hold them back. “I don’t have any memory of this.”

“It was touch and go; Hershel had to crush up the antibiotics and put them in water so you could take them. And then about a day later you started to wake up, and Daryl was by your side, and you started calling for Shane, telling him to make whoever was touching you stop. Daryl, he looked crushed and hasn’t come back to see you since then.”

“I need to find him.”

“That won’t be possible.” Hershel steps in front of the cell and slides the door open. “I need to make sure you won’t pass out again before you go anywhere.”

You’re lost in your own thoughts when Glenn gets up and leaves; you don’t even hear what he says to you. Hershel clears his throat loudly, gaining your attention. “It is known that a severe case of the flu results in a disoriented state of mind.”

“I wasn’t here.” You look down at the dirty ground, your heart heavy as you try to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. “I was somewhere else.”

—

By nightfall, you felt stir crazy. Staying away from Jace was hard, but you knew it was only temporary; once the flu had passed, you got to hold him again. And knowing you hurt, Daryl was weighing on you heavily.

You felt defeated.

Before the outbreak, you went to Atlanta to catch up with some old friends, and you desperately missed Shane because you were alone and wanted to feel safe. But with Daryl, it was different; it was small things you missed about him. From the way he hummed while kissing you to the sarcastic manner in which he’d roll his eyes.

You jump slightly when Glenn suddenly appears; he looks sicker than he did before. “Hey, someone wants to talk to you.”

“What?”

“Just go to the visitation room.”

You had no idea what Glenn was talking about, but having nothing better to do, you get up and go.

—

Your nostrils flare as you let out a deep breath, and your fingers shake as you pick up the phone. You try and wipe the thick layer of dirt off before bringing it to your ear. There was a glass panel separating you from your brother, meaning you could speak to him without making him sick.

“You look like hell.”

Rick chuckles; his hair was wild and untamed, and dark circles hung heavy beneath his eyes. His skin is paler than normal because of how tired he is. “I’ve not seen you look this bad since the first time you tried alcohol.”

A heaviness lingers over you both.

Rick’s voice cracks, “I thought I was going to lose you.”

“But I’m still here.”

He swallows thickly, tears glistening in his eyes. “Hershel told me you've been calling out in your sleep. He thinks you're hallucinating, but you’re not, are you?”

“What the governor did put my back in that place. Back in that apartment.” Almost in a whisper, you say, “I should never have let them in.”

“What Rivers and Young did wasn’t your fault.”

“But—”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I need to explain-”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong.”

Rage flickers inside you as you try and explain three more times, and each time Rick cuts you off. What happened that night was a sensitive subject for both of you, but certain things needed to be said.

“Just stop!” You smack your hand on the ledge in front of the glass, startling him. “You need to let me talk about it, Rick. What happened to me wasn’t my fault, but everything that happened after was.”

He tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I knew Shane was lying about Randall.”

“We both did.”

“I—” you cut yourself off trying to think; you’re unsure as to what to say next. “I think Shane was right when he said I’m just as fucked up as him. That’s not the first time I’ve seen him do something bad and not say anything.”

“Lil,” Rick’s voice is softer than before. “When was the first time?”

“That night…I just went along with everything Shane said, even though I knew he was lying.” You lean back in the chair. “The cops who attacked me didn’t have his gun on him when Shane killed him, but when he said they tried to shoot first, I didn’t say anything.”

Rick rests his head in his hands. “You were in shock.”

“But if I had said something, then maybe Shane wouldn’t have become so good at lying, and things would have been different at the farm. He wouldn’t have killed Otis or tried to kill you.”

Rick puts his hand on the glass. “I need you to hear when I say this. What happened that night wasn’t your fault. What the governor did wasn’t your fault, and anything Shane did wasn’t your fault. You were a victim—”

“Please, don’t call me that,” you squeeze your eyes shut. “I hate being called that.”

“Is that what you were seeing when Daryl was there?”

“I thought I’d moved on,” you sob. “But after what happened in Woodbury, it’s been on my mind all the time, and I keep thinking how different things could have been if I’d just done one thing differently.”

“You’re looking for ways to blame yourself.” He sighs, “I know you made me swear to never speak about it with anyone, but have you ever thought of speaking to anyone else? Maggie, Carol, Daryl?”

“I don’t want Daryl to know. I don’t want him to look at me as if I’m broken.” Deep down, you didn't think Daryl would think less of you, but it was much easier saying others would think that than admitting that’s how you felt yourself. “I care about him a lot, more than I ever thought I would, and I know Daryl would never hurt me, but when I felt someone's hands on my hair, I could see Shane bursting through the door while that asshole was dragging me by the hair.”

“If you don’t want to tell Daryl everything, at least tell him how you feel. Once you’re out of prison anyway.”

You laugh at the last part and wipe tears from your cheek. “How bad is the walker piling up at the fences?”

Unbeknownst to yourself and Rick, Daryl had just heard everything you said before changing the conversation.