#AND another company reached out and was like:

[luludeluluramblings]

Dick Grayson's Obsession with Smalltown!Reader

A/N: Why dialogue hard? Why so hard? Y'all I tried, once again. I saved Dick for last because I really really really did not want to screw up his character. I did end up adding a scene from Part Seven in here. Just to give it some pizzazz.

A/N: Part Eight is in the works, but it’s either gonna be massive or I’m going to have to divide it up. Also, people be posting so straight up fire in the Yandere Bat tags lately. Good stuff, I needed that.

Warnings: Yandere themes, physical affection.

Out of everyone, Dick was the most enthusiastic about Reader coming to Wayne manor, while also being the most melancholic. The tragedy of their arrival wasn't lost on him, despite the thrill he had over the thought of having another person to add to hi life. Already, the need and wanted to smoother them in comfort and care was there. But, the life experiences he had allowed him to realize it was probably best not to overwhelm them.

Therefore, it came out in short burst of staggering affection at times. But, only when he was visiting. (There was no denying the fact that he was extremely tempted to call them on the phone just to make sure they were settling in just fine. And, that he fought that temptation every single night.)

That didn't stop him from feeling some minor annoyance with Bruce for keeping the fact that they existed a secret. Dick had seen the affects of this life and even felt them, but to let the family nearly miss out on something so honeyed with normalcy was cruel. (It would have been preferred if they didn't have to lose their parents in order to join the rest of the family, but it was hard to think like with how busy his schedule was and soft they felt in his arms.)

Admittedly he may have latched on to them too hard in the beginning. They felt stiff the first time his arms wrapped around them. The guilt of it gurgled in his throat, which is why he cut it short and went about his business. But, he couldn't stop the urge to do so each time they crossed each other's paths in the manor halls.

And, much to his glee, they start to soften. Slowly, but surly, they start to cling to him a little longer when his arms wrap around them. They start to depend on him. For once the thought of someone so conventional depending on him as Dick rather than as Nightwing, because everyone seems to depend on him as Nightwing, doesn't fill him with anxiety. It makes his chest flutter in a different way. Not with anxious butterflies, but with a flicker of a warmth.

It's completely innocent, the way the craving starts. He has to talk himself out of rearranging his entire schedule to be around them. Especially after the kidnapping incident. But, the Rouge break out gives him plenty of work to distract himself, and more frequent chances to find them in the manor for a dose of his new source of comfort.

His feelings finally start to become clear when rather than holding him longer and tighter, they finally reach for him themselves.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

“And, how is my favorite person today?” Already Dick has his arms opened wide for you when you walk out of the kitchen. He always appears from the depths of the manor, before he wraps around you like a slow creeping vine blooming with all sorts of sentiments.

"Alfred was doing good last I saw." But, by now you've grown to appreciate the way the tendrils curl around your limbs and burrow themselves into you. A small grin forming on your face at the chance to finally have someone to talk to, even if he isn't consistent company.

"Alfred isn't my favorite person, and you know it." The banter between them enjoyable and the undertones of his words ignorable in your obliviousness. "But, seriously, how are you doing today? You look like you have something on your mind. If it is you can tell me, you know that right?" The concern pouring put of his lips, as his grip tightens.

He had seen you through the cameras and had overheard the longing phone calls. The fact that your birthday was coming up had crossed his mind, and the realization that this would be your first without your parents did register in his brain. (But, it would also be you first with them. With him.) Bringing it up to you seemed like a bad idea. But, he would still try to encourage you to spill your feelings to him.

"No, no. It's nothing I promise." Your reply was soft and dismissive. But, the dishonesty was noticeable in it still.

Dick's arms seemed to tighten around you as you spoke, as if he was trying to decode the root of your troubles from the way your heart was beating against his chest. Eventually, he does loosen his limbs around you.

As he looks down, you known and he knows you’re lying. For a moment you think he going to push. To try to choke the words out of your lungs with another tight squeeze. But, he doesn't. Instead he lets you breathe.

"Okay," is all he says.

No extra nor unnecessary words. No constant reassurance that he'll always be there for you. Just a single word and the room to breathe. Those other things have already been said. Multiple times, in fact.

It's this one instance where he lets you breath that somehow gives you lungs the air it needs to blurt out what's bothering you as he pulls away.

"I wanna go home." The words escape your lips when you finally exhale and reach for him. The words coarse. "I just really want to go home for a bit. I miss home. I miss my family. I just—“

Dick doesn't even let you get halfway before he's enveloping you again. A slight tremble in his hands as he sprouts around you once more.

This. This is what he's wanted. You coming to him with your raw feelings. And, he knows he's the first person you've said this to at all.

"How can I help you?" He asks instead of questioning the statement.

"Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?” The tentative way you ask and look up at him has him caving immediately.

"Of course!" Perhaps it was a good thing you didn't grow up in Wayne manor. If Bruce hadn't spoiled you, he most definitely would have. "I'll bring it up to B as soon as he gets back."

"He's gone?" You hadn't been informed of him even leaving, but then again, you were hardly every informed about anything it seems.

"Yeah, work emergency. It wasn't a big deal, but he'll be back soon." Dick can sense the mild tone shift, but manages to shift it back to something more lighthearted. "I'll make sure to butter him up for you. I swear. Puppy-dog eyes and everything."

It works, because before he can even clutch you to his chest you already wrapped your arms around his torso and pulled yourself towards him. Just the way you hug him tells him how genuine this type of embrace is. This is how you hold people. And, now, this is how you hold him.

"Thank you, Dick. Thank you." Comes your muffled reply into his chest.

The way you nuzzle into him like that's where you belong, because that's where you do belong, and the way you say his name causes his heart to melt. And, his mind to slowly sinks into the puddle it became.

Dick could stay like this for hours, but you start to pull away after a solid minute.

"I should let you get going. I know you got a lot of stuff to do." Your words sound so hopeful and understanding as you him go. The way you look up at him like he is your hero just for this simple small thing is touching.

Inwardly, he curses. The criminals of Gotham. The criminals of Blüdhaven, the team, the family, his schedule. Everything. He curses it all for that moment, because he could be holding you to his chest longer and having you look up at him like that instead. But, he lets it pass. He manages to let it go just as you pull away.

"Yeah, I do. But, don't think I'm going to brush off helping my favorite person in the world." Plastering on a well practiced pretty smile as he speaks.

"So, that means you got somebody more important off world? I see how it is." You tease in return as you fall for the practiced charm.

"Maybe." Dick lets the banter easy his mind. In reality, even off this world, you're probably his favorite, still. It should scare him, but it doesn't. "I'll let you know how Bruce takes the request. But, I'm prepared to sneak you out of here if necessary."

"I'll get the spy music ready, just incase." Things are starting to look up, and it's nice to have someone in your corner in this massive estate.

"Mission Impossible theme?" His grin become less practiced at the thoughts of having an adventure with you.

"Nah, the Pink Panther one. Just for the shenanigans." Your own grin growing wider and wider.

"Now I want to sneak you out just for fun." And, he means it. Already mentally planning your trip back home with him escorting you. And, then you possibly coming and staying in Blüdhaven with him in his guest room. Just to get you out of the manor, of course. Clearly you need it.

He can't ignore the way his pocket keeps buzzing, though. Clearly the others are in the cave waiting for him. But, they can wait a bit longer, he thinks diving in for one last embrace.

As you wholeheartedly reciprocate, he can see one of the secret security camera out the corner of his eye and he can't stop the smug smile from forming on his face as his gives you one last squeeze in front of it.

With the way his phone stills, he can tell the rest of them saw. It's not his fault they're too scared of physical affection to actually hug you. But, it does give him a monopoly on it with you.

As he makes his way down to the Batcave there's a skip in his step and that smug smile is still on his face.

He makes sure to look at everyone's faces as he joins them. Soaking up their envy. All of that wasn't to make them jealous, but it's kind of nice to have.

"Was all that necessary, Grayson?" Damian being the first to break the silence by practically spitting the words out through his gritted teeth. Even with his perfect poster the tension coiling in his limbs is visible to the untrained eye.

"Someone's got to be the one to do it, little D. And, clearly, they needed it." Dick's tone was placating, but his smile wasn't. The way he stands in the center of the room reminiscent of an orchestra conductor.

"Don't use them as an excuse for your touch-starved tendencies, Dick." Barbara retorted, rolling in her chair towards another computer. She immediately began typing on it at a furious pace, clearly trying to distract herself.

"Low blow, Babs." He whistled in return. Everyone else seemed focused on giving him the silent treatment causing his grin to widen further. "I can't help that I'm a naturally-"

"I just texted Bruce about it." Duke suddenly says, looking up from his phone with a smug grin. He face had been blank before, but the way his eyes glanced up at Dick and the others when there heads jerk towards him showed off a hint of self-satisfaction.

"That's cheating." Childishly spills from Dick's mouth. This was suppose to be his favor to them. His. Not anyone else's.

"Bruce doesn't get text while in the Watchtower." Stephanie points out while uncurling from her seat, but the damage is done.

"Could we contact Father in the Watchtower?" Damian practically leaps from his seat and rushes to the Batcomputer where Tim sits. Alliances quickly being drawn up.

"He'd be pissed if we contacted him for something like this." Jason adds with a grin. He doesn't bother looking up from cleaning his guns, just not at all bothered by the prospect of pissing Bruce off.

"But, then message would be logged into the League data base." Comes Barbara's stern voice from her computer, her typing coming to a pause. Tim still keeps at whatever he was working on before Dick walked into the cave, but on the screen there is a flash of airline websites so it's fairly easy to conclude what his plan of persuasion is.

Cassandra watches the exchange reading the emotions through everyone's movements. Silently, she throws her bid in as well. Choosing to slide over to Stephanie and signing the making of a plan.

From there it spirals into an all out argument between each and every member of the family. Debating logistics and exchanging petty insults that seems to go on for hours. Hardly anything gets done while words are being thrown around like bullets.

In the back of his mind, Dick once again curses everyone and everything for ruining this for him. But, he reassures himself, the banter from earlier comes back to him.

It's a decent plan, he thinks. Sneaking Reader out of the manor. Convincing Bruce would be ideal, but it wouldn't be the first time he's broken the rules. And, it's for their happiness and well being. They need him. They asked him for his help. Not the other's. Not anyone else's. His. Bruce will understand.

Besides, it would be nice to see the Smalltown they grew up in. It sounds like a quaint little place. What could possibly be wrong with it?

[songmingisthighs]

Pitiful, You're Pitiful

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ch. vi

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature

word count : 2.8 k

warning : argument, mentions of cheating, negative depiction of wooyoung, mentions of loss, calling an adulteress an assortment of names, idk what else tbh lmk if there is anything else I should add

a/n : I FINALLY UPDATED !!!!! this chapter might be slightly shorter compared to the others but trust me when I say it's very much intentional because I just want to focus this chapter on this one specific interaction. some sort of catalyst or like break from the obliteration of pyp!woo's image ig lmaooooo BUT YAY I DIDN'T FORGET TO POST PYP THIS MONTH !!!!

buy me coffee ?

After the fiasco that was your unveiling of a VERY important information about a staff of the academy, Wooyoung was immediately pulled in to get his side of the story. And of course, unfortunately, you. Luckily, you didn't get chastised by anyone because you were CLEARLY the victim in this situation. Heck, the HR team even reached out to apologize to you for the inconvenience you experienced due to their staff's "misconduct" because you're one of the founders's wives. It was an interesting way of saying that their staff is a cheating whore without any redeeming value but you'll take what you can get out of them and the situation. Which also includes his own friend group contacting you every now and then to make sure that you are okay and some (Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho) even going as far as swearing to denounce their familial relations with Wooyoung which was sweet.

Speaking of Wooyoung, he had been shoved into the heap of horseshit that he had piled on himself. You honestly have never seen him so down because he was "suggested" to take an extra two weeks of break to "settle down from the issue" which was really code for HR still having to clean up his mess because Harin decided to not go quietly. From what you heard from a reliable source (Jongho over pastry and coffee after he ditched his vocal classes to gossip), Harin came back the day after she officially got fired and made a ruckus. Literally, she went crazy and made a mess of the lobby; throwing chairs and tables around, scattering pamphlets, breaking vases, and screaming random weird things like how the company is a misogynist for firing a woman for something that was beyond her control. Safe to say, because Harin refused to move to a quieter spot, Hongjoong had to step in and reiterate all the mistakes she had made including but not limited to her having an affair with a married man who was her boss. Hongjoong had even told her that while there was another party involved, another party that acknowledged the mistakes that he had made and agreed to accept whatever disciplinary actions were required, it was also her choice to partake in such behavior. Long story short, a student uploaded the whole thing on YouTube and as of today, there were 15 different TikTok remixes ranging from EDM, screamo, and even a Donald Trump edit. Without Jongho pointing it out, you could imagine that Harin's career in South Korea was over, not because of the cheating, but because of her disorderly conduct.

You found yourself spending time rather peacefully in recent times which was surprising since your house seems to always be in a state of chaos. For once, Wooyoung didn't try to make you talk to him or about him. In fact, he had the decency to be very considerate of you and your feelings, particularly about being in the same room as him. It made you feel slightly bad to be honest because although you both were going through something, he was in the middle of being the butt of the joke and jab by everyone at the company. It was sad and pathetic but also very much deserved. Sure you sometimes found his isolation to be sad, pathetic, and downright pitiful, but then you remember what he did and you remembered how he put himself in that position without even considering the repercussions.

The same could be said about Dayoung. Well, only in the sense of her isolation seemingly from the rest of the world. Your outgoing, extroverted daughter seemed to spend a good chunk of time locking herself inside her room after school. Usually, you would have to turn into a negotiator three times a week just to get your daughter to come home right on her curfew. This time around, you had a worse time trying to get her out, even making her run some errands just so she could get some fresh air. It wasn't until a while later that Wooyoung clued in on why Dayoung was acting like that. The way you went off on Wooyoung for breaking the news in such a manner without you present or even consulting you. You did try to understand that maybe he just... slipped or that he was so emotional that it just slipped out but the point stood that he waited until you were trying to piece things together to finally tell you. Yet another secret he kept from you. Considering the frequency of things he said but hid away from you, you had to think if this was some sort of behavioural pattern that he hadn't exhibited even if you both had been married for quite a long time. Maybe he had became a master a suppressing it and all it took was you forcing the truth out of him to make said behavior to come back to the surface.

On the other hand, Woohyun was turning into a more mature and responsible version of himself. the day you both came home from confronting the slut, Woohyun became so very helpful towards you. The first thing he did was took your bag and brought it over to the kitchen table before he dashed to the bathroom to wash his hands, cleaning himself up before you had to tell him to. Then he made himself very available for you by making sure that he spent almost every single waking or available moments with you. When you;re in the kitchen doing the dishes or cooking, he would be on the counter or the dining table doing his homework. Sometimes he would even try to do chores like one time he tried to help you bringing his sister's laundry basket from the second floor and he ended up scattering everything down the stairs. Woohyun was upset and worried that you would be mad but instead, you laughed it up and helped him clean up before teaching him how to carry items that are heavier than him down. Although you couldn't find it in yourself to bring it up in case you ended up accidentally telling him yourself, you had a feeling that Woohyun was trying to distract you from the reality of what was going on with your husband in his own way. One of the things that solidified your assumption was the fact that Woohyun had limited contact with his dad significantly. The two of them used to spend time together playing games or pulling pranks on one another and even on you or Dayoung but he had suddenly refuse to spend elective time with Wooyoung no matter how much Wooyoung tried to negotiate with him with everything that he got. Despite that, Woohyun dudb't lose respect for his dad.

"Mom?"

You almost dropped the plate you were washing when you heard a voice come up from the doorway. It was surprising to see Dayoung standing there, timid like a deer because she was always happy, lively, and rambunctious, even straight-up disrespectful to you, your space, and your boundaries. But never this. She had been so... quiet for a week and it would've made you freak out had it not been for Wooyoung letting you know that Dayoung knew. That was all he said, she knew. You did not know what had gotten over you to not deck Wooyoung right then and there but he should absolutely consider himself a lucky bastard.

The sight of your own daughter standing there made you feel... anxious. You probably (most likely) should not be afraid of a bitty teenager, but how can you not? It's not like you thought that she was going to attack you or worse, ask you to give Wooyoung a sponge bath. But you just never saw your daughter this... Muted. It was as if she had stepped into an old TV where there was nothing but black and white. You silently wished that Woohyun had not gone to the zoo with his playdate friends because he would be a great buffer. Or witness for whatever that was bound to happen.

"D-do you need help with the dishes?" She asked, stepping closer to you slowly. At first, you were surprised, not exactly expecting that the first thing she would say was an offer to help you with a chore. But, you welcomed her with a smile and nodded, stepping to the side so she could come next to you and start wiping down the washed dishes.

There were no words exhchanged between the two of you for the first five minutes or so but it wasn't awkward. It was the first time that the silence was peaceful when it was just the two of you. Usually, the silence would always only come from Dayoung and it was because she was mad at you for something. Not at you and Wooyoung, just you. You were always the receiver of her animosity even when she was mad at her dad for whatever insignificant reason there could be, but this time was different.

"Mom..." she called you suddenly but what came next surprised you instead, "I'm sorry," she started, not looking at you which was unfortunate because you were staring at her with a very priceless dumbfounded expression. "I- I- what?" "I'm sorry for... This, my part in... Whatever's going on with you and dad. I'm really sorry for making you take care of him. Had I known, I wouldn't have made you take him in," she confessed and you could see that she was starting to tear up. Your heart broke and you really wanted to pull her in and give her the biggest hug that you could muster just to show your support for her but you knew that it would just make yourself feel better for accomplishing something and not actually help her feel better. So you took a step closer to her and breathed out a sigh of relief when she didn't push you away. "I'm really, really, REALLY sorry mom. He's the worst husband ever," she sniffed which made you chuckle as you blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall, "Well, I would say that Emperor Peter, Catherine the Great's husband is a far worse husband than your father."

Your attempt at making light of the situation was met with Dayoung squinting her eyes at you. "Mom, I'm serious. I've heard about my friend's dad cheating but not like this. Not in your situation, and not with someone dumb enough to think she can substitute a hand wrap for martial arts with boob tapes," she scoffed, annoyed. You sighed and shrugged, "Well, people are complicated, sweetie. I... I'm not mad, annoyed, or angry that you wanted me to take care of your dad because, in retrospect, it WAS the absolute right thing to do. I mean, your dad was injured and he's facing such a hard time at work. It would be absolutely wrong to just toss him to someone else. Who would we even toss him to? His friend? His parents?" "His whore, mom. We could've tossed him out and have his whore handle him."

The very second the words left Dayoung's mouth, your eyes widened and your neck snapped in her direction to see her frowning, staring up at you. "He's a cheating bastard and we have the right to not even be in contact with him anymore," she curtly stated. "Jung Dayoung," you started shakily. Dayoung simply shook her head to cut you off, "No, mom, oh my God, you need to stop being a doormat." "Dayoung!" you exclaimed, surprised that she was able to say such a thing and perhaps slightly offended. "It's true! God, mom, how long have you known that he has a side piece who's as dumb as a bag of rocks? How long have you held everything in and just let him walk all over you? He fucking CHEATED on you mom! When you were so down in the dumps to the point that you couldn't even take care of yourself properly! You used Woohyun and I as a distraction, shoving all the attention and care to what, fill in the void over the loss of my would've-been sibling? And where was he? He was with some other woman because he is the worst of the worst and I will never forgive him for what he did to our family!"

Maybe it was the volume of her voice or the massive weight of her words but you felt your blood boiling and before you even realized it, you had shoved a plate into the sink and you were huffing, "Jung Dayoung that's enough, you should not talk about your father that way." "Why? Why shouldn't I, mom? My God, this is the first time in like, maybe ever that I'm standing up for you, this is me protecting you and yet you're still trying to make excuses for that pathetic son of a bitch who betrayed his family!?" "He did not betray our family, okay? He betrayed me, Dayoung!"

Just like it was the first time Dayoung defended you, you had experienced your first time screaming at her and to say that she was scared was an understatement. Dayoung shut her mouth and stared at you with sadness in her eyes because she had yet to comprehend why you were still trying to stand up for your cheating husband.

"Your dad did nothing to our family, sweetie. He did this to me," you sighed, closing your eyes and exhaling shakily as you used both of your hands to hold onto the counter to stabilize yourself. "Sure, he might have altered the dynamic and whatever else in our family but he... What he did was nothing against our family but it was just against me. At least, that's what I think. I don't think I have it in me to find out exactly why he did what he did because I'm weak, Dayoung. I'm a coward like that." you turned to her and shed a tear, breaking Dayoung's heart as she realized just how strong you were all this time.

"Then why, mom? Why are you still letting him off?" Dayoung asked, her voice cracking. You tearily chuckled and shrugged, "Who said that I am? I'm doing this, ALL of this, not because I want to. I did it, because for the longest time, that was what we have agreed on in our marriage. He deal with the monetary stuff and I deal with the family stuff. As much as it hurts, no matter if I like it or not, he is still my family because his behavior be damned, he... He gave me you and your brother and that is something I would never regret. For that, I will always be thankful to him and that is also why you should still respect your father. You can be mad at him, you can be hurt by what he did, but your respect should be non-negotiable not because he deserved it, but because your dad an I taught you better than that. He truly loves you, Dayoung. He might not love me anymore but you and Woohyun are the apples of his eyes, you are his stars in the dark night sky, and you are the best thing he had and would ever achieve. Do you understand me?"

Dayoung groaned and dropped her head on your shoulder as she wrapped her arms around your waist. "Damn it mom, why do you have to make it hard for me to unleash my wrath on him?" You couldn't help but chuckle and return her hug, "Sorry sweetie, part of my job is to make sure you grow up to be a decent human being and sometimes I have to make or say things you don't like," you chuckled, making Dayoung roll her eyes but nudge her hips with yours.

As you spend a heartwarming moment with your daughter, you can't help but let your mind slip and travel somewhere else. You couldn't help but think about how you and Dayoung would probably not have experienced such a changing moment in your life. So as much as you hate it, there was a silver lining in this whole shenanigan.

Beyond the heartwarming scene in the kitchen, alone in the dark and cold emptiness of the living room, Wooyoung stood with his back to the wall. Having come down when he heard the commotion, Wooyoung initially thought he might have to step in to get Dayoung off your back. But when he heard you yell back at Dayoung, he stopped in his tracks and debated If he should stay or leave until his interest was piqued and he ended up listening in on the conversation which left him feeling broken down. Despite the gnawing pain that made him feel like he couldn't breathe, he knew he deserved that and more. He should not complain and instead, he should just accept the harsh truth. Not just the facts that you laid out to Dayoung, but also the truth that your action further proved that he was truly the devil in this equation. And perhaps he doesn't deserve to be forgiven.

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[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 6: Her emotions

Summary: Friday's therapy session turns into camping with you.. where accidents happen.

Warnings: DRUNK WEDNESDAY! Light Angst. EmotonallyConfusedWednesday!!!! Getting Drugged Accidentally

(Note: It is a veryyyy long chapter, Tell me how you guys liked it, or if drunk Wednesday seemed out of character, I won't mind)

Chapter 1 Previous Chapter Worklist

By the time Thursday rolled around, the pattern had solidified itself, like a storm cloud hanging persistently on the horizon. Every morning, you’d sit beside Wednesday in the quad, annoyingly persistent but never enough for her to feel justified in telling you to leave. You had a knack for toeing the line—just far enough to irk her but never enough to earn her outright rejection.

In class, the routine was much the same. You’d slip into the seat beside her as if it were your rightful place. The second you sat down, her entire world seemed to narrow, every sense heightened in your proximity. The faint rustle of your clothes, the soft sighs you made when the lecture got particularly dull, the slight tap of your fingers against your notebook—it all became a package of distractions.

She tried to make sense of it all. Why would you go through such efforts to get close to her? You are definitely working for someone. Perhaps Thornhill? Or worse—another follower of crackstone? Could you have been a spy? Sent to observe her? To get closer and learn her weaknesses?

"What are you really doing here?" Wednesday’s voice was low, more to herself than to you. Her eyes remained focused on the blackboard, but her thoughts were elsewhere—specifically on the constant, irritating sensation of your presence. You blinked in surprise, your pen pausing mid-word. "Uh… learning? Isn’t that why we’re all here?" "Don’t insult my intelligence." Her eyes narrowed, her voice growing colder, “Why are you always here? Sitting beside me, following me like a shadow. It’s pathetic.” You leaned in closer, your breath warm against her ear. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.” Wednesday's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Enjoy? You find my disdain enjoyable?” A shrug. “I find you enjoyable. Everything else is just part of the package.”

That caught her off guard. For a moment, she didn’t have a response and it took all her self-control to avoid showing how much that unsettled her. She hated that you always had the upper hand in conversations like this. She hated that your attention felt like a weight she couldn’t shake. Most of all, she hated that a part of her—however small and buried deep—wondered what it would be like to let you in.

Wednesday didn't particularly care for or against Fridays. They were simply another day in the endless monotony of her existence. But this Friday? It was different. It was another one of those irritating anger management sessions—a pointless exercise orchestrated by fools, for fools. And now, she had to endure it with you. As if her tolerance for idiocy wasn’t already at its breaking point.

She had barely gotten herself dressed when the inevitable, irritating sound of knocking echoed through her door. "Do you ever get tired of existing so obnoxiously?" she asked, her voice cold and flat. You smirked, unfazed. "Not if it means I get to hang out with you." "Ugh," Wednesday muttered under her breath, reaching for her black trench coat. Before you could say another word, Enid popped into the doorway. "Ooh, look at you!" she said, her eyes lighting up as she saw you. "That dress is so cute! It really suits you." You beamed. "Thanks, Enid! Thought I’d try something different." Wednesday rolled her eyes. "Different? You look like a walking garden. I half expect bees to swarm you the moment we step outside." You shrugged with a grin, clearly enjoying her jabs. "I’ll take that as a compliment." "It wasn’t," she deadpanned, slipping into her coat. "Let’s go. If we’re late, David will prolong the session for me."

As you two made your way out of the dorm, Enid waved goodbye cheerfully. "Have fun at therapy!" Wednesday shot her a glare that screamed ‘I’d rather die,’ "So, you excited for today?" you asked, the teasing lilt in your voice grating against her already thin patience. "Excited would imply I feel any sense of positive anticipation," Wednesday responded coolly. "No. Today is just another unfortunate event in a long string of unfortunate events." "Yeah, that sounds about right," you agreed with a chuckle. "Though, spending time with me can’t be that bad." Wednesday shot you a side glance. "Your self-delusion is truly remarkable." "Oh, I’m well aware of my delusions, but hey, they keep me going."

She sighed, trying to ignore the warmth of your presence next to her. It was irritating, how familiar the rhythm of walking beside you had become. You always matched her steps perfectly, never rushing, never falling behind.

Wednesday would've preferred the taxi ride to be as silent as it can get but of course, you filled the silence with light conversation, asking her the most mundane questions imaginable, while Wednesday sat stiffly beside you, arms crossed, staring out the window. "So, I was thinking," you began, pausing for dramatic effect, "do you think if I ordered a black coffee today, I’d be more like you?" "No," she answered immediately. "You didn’t even think about it." "Because I already know the answer. You could drink a gallon of black coffee, wear all black, and listen to Beethoven’s most haunting symphony, and you’d still be as painfully cheerful as you are now." You grinned, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I think there’s a part of you that secretly enjoys my company. You’d miss me if I stopped hanging around." "I’d miss you like I’d miss an infection," she said coldly, her eyes never leaving the window. But even as she said it, there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. The truth was, your absence would be noticed. After all, you were always there. And when you weren’t, it left a strange, hollow space in her day. Not that she would ever admit it.

"Ah, there they are!" David called, his voice loud and cheerful, as if he had been waiting all day just for your arrival. He was wearing his usual obnoxiously bright scarf and smiling wide enough to make Wednesday wish she’d turned back sooner.

"Wonderful to see you both! We’re doing something a little different today!" he announced enthusiastically as you and Wednesday approached.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. "Different how?" she asked, already expecting the worst.

David motioned toward a minibus parked just outside the café. "Today, we’re going on a therapeutic field trip! Under the open skies, connecting with nature. It’s going to be great!"

Wednesday’s entire demeanor stiffened, and her gaze darkened. "I refuse," she said flatly. "I did not sign up for some kumbaya nonsense in the middle of a field. If you think—"

"If you refuse," David interrupted, holding up a finger, "I’ll have no choice but to report to Principal Weems that you’re not making progress. And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?"

Wednesday’s expression turned venomous. She stood still, glaring at David with pure disdain. "You are a stain on humanity." "Not the first time I’ve heard that!" David replied, still grinning. "Now hop on the bus, both of you." Wednesday clenched her jaw, resisting every instinct to turn and leave. The bus was small and cramped, all those fools were already there. and Wednesday had already claimed the farthest seat in the back, as far away from everyone as possible. You slid in next to her, earning a sideways glare. "Don’t get comfortable," she said icily. "Too late," you replied, settling in with a smirk. As the bus rumbled to life and began its journey to the woods, Wednesday stared out the window, her mind racing. She hated every second of this. But more than that, she hated how… unsettled she felt with you next to her. She hated how she could feel your presence, how your every movement drew her attention. And she hated that she didn’t want you to leave. Maybe this session would offer more than just torturous fresh air—maybe it would give her the chance to figure out why you were really here. Because Wednesday knew one thing for certain: you were hiding something. And she was going to find out what it was, whether you liked it or not.

David, at the front of the bus, was chattering to the driver, too excited for whatever nonsense he had planned. "How much longer do you think this torture will last?" Wednesday muttered under her breath, her eyes fixed out the window, watching the trees blur by. You leaned closer, a smile tugging at your lips. "Not a fan of the great outdoors, Wednesday?" "No, I had my fair share in the woods. I prefer my environment to be hostile," she replied coolly The bus finally rolled to a stop at the edge of a dense forest. David hopped off first, "Alright, we’re heading to the lake! It’s about two hours walk, but don’t worry—we’ll take breaks if anyone needs it! Stretch those legs—we've got a nice hike ahead" Wednesday let out a sigh, muttering, “And thus, the descent into idiocy begins.” She glanced at you, fully expecting to see that infuriating grin of yours, and she was not disappointed. "Come on, Wends," you said, using the nickname you knew she despised. "It’ll be fun." "It will be insufferable," she corrected, stepping down from the bus with her usual grace. She was already too bored to correct you. “Man, I thought we were gonna talk about our feelings. Not… hike.” Alex complained. "Alex. It’s about the journey—learning to appreciate nature and each other." David answered from up ahead Wednesday stayed near the back as the group began to march forward, already regretting every moment of this cursed field trip. You, of course, kept pace beside her, walking with that irritating bounce in your step. "So," you said after a few moments of silence. "What do you think the lake looks like?" "Water," Wednesday deadpanned. Rick whistling low under his breath. “Can’t believe we’re actually doing this. You still got the shovel?” Ashley elbowed him in the ribs again, her voice a low hiss. “Shut up, Rick.” “So, like, do you think there are any wolves around here? Or, ooh, maybe bears! Wouldn’t that be so dramatic?” Brooked chipped. Mike looked like he was seriously considering abandoning her in the woods. “I… really don’t think there are bears, Brooke.” “Oh, but wouldn’t it be romantic? You saving me from a bear or something?” Mike just groaned Wednesday caught snippets of their conversation, her irritation growing with every inane comment. She muttered under her breath, “I would gladly throw her to a bear.” “Isn’t this just wonderful? The fresh air, the sound of birds, the gentle rustle of leaves! A perfect day for personal growth!” David cheered from the front. You were trying to stifle a laugh beside Wednesday, but it slipped out. “You gotta admit, he’s really into this.” “I have nothing to admit,” Wednesday muttered darkly. As they walked. Wednesday found herself paying far too much attention to your reactions—the slight smile on your face, the way you occasionally glanced at her when you thought she wasn’t looking. It was intriguing irritating.

Eventually, the trees began to thin out, the scent of water growing stronger as the lake came into view.

Mike was the first to notice it, squinting at the far side of the clearing. "Uh… guys? What’s with the tents?"

David clapped his hands together, that annoyingly chipper smile still plastered across his face. "Ah, yes! About that—"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed.

David gave an exaggerated shrug. "Oops! Did I forget to mention we’re staying the night?"

The entire group froze.

"What?" Alex’s voice dropped, his fists clenched. "Staying overnight?"

Rick stared at David like he’d just been sentenced to death. "Nah, no way. I’ve got plans. You can’t just spring this on us."

Ashley threw up her hands. "David, you didn’t say anything about camping! I didn’t even pack!"

Brooke, unsurprisingly, clapped her hands together. "This is amazing! We’re going to spend the night under the stars—just like in the movies!"

"Of course you’re excited," Mike grumbled. "This is a disaster."

Meanwhile, Wednesday stood there, silently seething. Her mind was racing with all the ways she could strangle David without leaving a trace. "You ambushed us," she said, her voice cold, each word clipped. "Do you have a death wish?"

David chuckled nervously. "Oh, come on, guys. It’ll be fun! A little nature retreat, some time away from distractions—" Wednesday interrupted, her tone venomous. "The only thing distracting me right now is the overwhelming desire to set this entire campsite ablaze." You, of course, were clearly enjoying this, "Well, this is unexpected, but kind of exciting, right? At least the lake is beautiful!" She stared at you with her deadpan expression, trying to comprehend how anyone could be happy about this situation. "I sincerely hope the lake swallows you whole." You only grinned wider. "Guess I’ll take that as an invitation for a swim later." "Ugh," she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as though she could ward off the headache brewing in her skull. David, trying desperately to salvage the situation, raised his hands. "It’s not that bad, I promise! The tents are already set up, and we’ve got food, water, and supplies. This will be a great opportunity to unwind and connect with nature." You nudged her lightly with your elbow. "Hey, at least you’ve got me here to keep you company." "You’re the worst part of this." "Aw, don’t be like that. I’ll make sure you have fun." Wednesday resisted the urge to shove you into the lake. Each person got their own tent, which was the one small mercy in this nightmare of an outing. Wednesday glanced at the others, some fumbling with their tents or laughing awkwardly, completely unaware of how insufferable they were. Of course, you were helping David get the campfire going, your face lit up with a soft smile as you fumbled with the firewood. Wednesday watched you from the corner of her eye, wondering how you could seem so content in this ridiculous situation. You didn't seem annoyed or put off like she was—you were just… happy to help. She couldn't understand it. She had been relegated to "supervision duty," which meant standing around doing absolutely nothing while everyone else bustled about with assigned tasks. Mike and Alex were handling the food, Brooke was talking to some random birds like they were her long-lost cousins, and Rick and Ashley were off near the lake, laughing about who knew what.

David, with his typical cheery disposition, waved everyone over. "Alright, everyone, gather around! The fire's going, and it's almost time for our session!" Great. The therapy session. The exact reason Wednesday wanted to bury herself in the woods and never return. But she had to stay—for now because she had to find out why you were everywhere. She watched as you placed a few more logs on the fire before stepping back and joining the group. She hated how naturally you fit into all this, while every second felt like torture for her.

As the sky darkened, the session began. Wednesday sat at the edge of the group, her fingers twitching toward her coat pocket where her knives were hidden. Five knives. She let her mind wander to the logistics of taking them all out. David was the priority. Strangling him would be more satisfying, but a quick knife to the throat would be efficient. She could— "Wednesday?" She blinked and glanced at you, irritated at being pulled back into reality. You looked at her expectantly, probably wondering why she was spacing out. David cleared his throat, obviously oblivious to her thoughts. "Okay, let's start! Today's session is still all about discussing our most recent challenges. How we handled them, what we learned… you know the drill." Wednesday's expression tightened. Oh, she knew the drill all too well. Each session was the same monotonous routine—listening to everyone talk about their mundane problems and pretend they were making progress. It was a miracle she hadn't stabbed someone by now.

Alex started first, talking about how he got into a fight with his dad over some trivial matter. "But I didn't punch a wall this time," he added proudly, and Milo gave him a sleepy nod of approval. "That's great, Alex!" David beamed. "You're learning to manage your anger better."

Next up was Brooke, who dramatically recounted some "epic argument" she'd had with her mom over her phone privileges. "But I didn't give in! I stood my ground, because self-care is important, right?" David nodded enthusiastically, clearly buying into Brooke's theatrics. "Absolutely, Brooke. Boundaries are important."

Wednesday's eyes flicked to the campfire. Maybe she could just throw herself into it. That would be preferable to listening to more of this.

Mike's was about some misunderstanding with his sister, while Rick rambled on about his mother. Wednesday could feel her patience thinning with each passing second.

And then... it was her turn. David looked at her expectantly. "Wednesday, how about you? Have you faced any challenges lately?" She stared at him, the burning firelight reflected in her dark eyes. The group was silent, waiting for her to share some deep revelation. Of course, David had to push a bit, flashing his annoyingly encouraging smile. "It helps to talk, you know. We're all in this together." That was it. That was the final straw.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, and she felt something snap inside her. "You want to know about my challenges?" she began, her voice dangerously calm. "My challenge is sitting here, surrounded by imbeciles, pretending that anything you people say has any merit. I don't care about your 'self-care' or your 'boundaries' or how you didn't punch a wall for the first time in months, Alex." Everyone froze. The campfire crackled in the silence as Wednesday's words hung in the air. "And you," she turned to Brooke, "standing your ground with your mother over your phone privileges, are you serious? That's not a challenge. That's pathetic. The fact that any of you think you're achieving something meaningful by whining about your trivial lives is insufferable." Then she pointed to Rick "You keep whining about your mother but you are so dependent on her that you can't even move out. How about you fix that and then whine." David opened his mouth to speak, but Wednesday cut him off. "Don't. Just don't. I've had enough of this ridiculous charade." She stood abruptly, her black coat swirling as she turned on her heel and stormed away from the group. You sighed, David giving you a look. "Yeah I know I know, I am going to get her, but umm.. if I do not return, look for me in the lake, that's where she might throw my body." The water shimmered in the fading light as she reached the far side of the lake. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, trying to calm the storm raging inside her.

But then, she heard footsteps behind her. Of course it was you.

"Wednesday," you said softly, your voice cautious as you approached. She didn’t respond at first, her eyes fixed on the shimmering water in front of her. For a moment, you wondered if she even heard you. But then, slowly, she turned her head, her dark eyes locking onto yours. There was a storm in those eyes—anger, frustration, something deeper that she was too proud to acknowledge.

"I don’t want to talk," she said flatly, "Go back to the group. I’m fine here."

You ignored her dismissal, walking closer until you were standing beside her, staring at the same water. "I’m not leaving you alone, Wednesday. Not when you’re this upset."

She let out a sharp breath through her nose, clearly irritated. "Upset? I’m not upset. I’m annoyed. There’s a difference."

"Right. Annoyed." You nodded, as if you were going along with her, but your voice remained soft, patient. "You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but... I just don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be."

Wednesday shot you a glare, her eyebrow arching in disdain. "Do you enjoy this?" she snapped. "Being part of David’s circus, listening to everyone complain about how tragic their lives are?"

You met her gaze, unfazed by her sharp tone. "It’s not about enjoying it, Wednesday. It’s about trying. Everyone has something going on, and sometimes, talking about it helps. Even if it seems pointless at first."

"Pointless is an understatement," she muttered, turning her eyes back to the lake. "All they do is whine. They don’t solve anything, they just sit around, waiting for someone else to fix their lives for them."

"Not everyone’s as good at handling things alone as you are," you replied gently. "But even you—sometimes you don’t have to handle everything by yourself. Opening up doesn’t make you weak."

She clenched her jaw, her fingers twitching slightly as if she was fighting the urge to argue. "Opening up is a waste of time. It accomplishes nothing. People think sharing their problems will magically solve them, but in the end, they’re still the ones who have to deal with it. Words don’t change that." You sighed softly, recognizing the walls she was building around herself. But you didn’t give up. You couldn’t. You had a mission.

"It’s not about solving everything in one conversation. It’s about letting go, even for a little while. It gives you room to breathe, to think clearly without all that pressure building up inside."

"I don’t need to breathe," she said finally, though her voice was quieter than before, less sharp. "I’m perfectly fine handling things on my own."

"I know you are," you said softly, turning to face her fully. "But that doesn’t mean you have to. You don’t always have to be so... closed off."

Wednesday didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes flickered, something unreadable crossing her expression before she quickly masked it with her usual stoic demeanor. She sighed, clearly exasperated, but there was a hint of something softer in her voice when she finally spoke.

"Why do you even care?" she asked, her tone quieter now, almost vulnerable. "Why do you insist on dragging me into these... emotions?"

You smiled softly, knowing how hard it was for her to even ask that question. "Because I care about you, Wednesday. And I don’t want to see you carrying everything by yourself. I don't want to see you ending up alone. Even if you think you’re fine, it doesn’t hurt to let someone else in every once in a while."

She turned her head slightly, her eyes studying your face as if she were searching for some hidden motive. But all she found was sincerity. That seemed to bother her more than anything else.

"I’m not... good at this," she muttered, her voice almost too low to hear. "You don’t have to be," you replied.

For a long moment, Wednesday was silent, her expression unreadable as she stared at the lake. Then, with a resigned sigh, she turned on her heel and began walking back toward the campfire, clearly unwilling to admit that she was even considering your words.

You followed, relieved that she hadn’t completely shut down.

When the two of you returned to the camp, the group was still sitting around the fire, chatting quietly. To your surprise, no one seemed particularly upset about Wednesday’s earlier outburst. In fact, David greeted her with a bright smile, completely unfazed.

"Ah, Wednesday! Glad to have you back," he welcomed her cheerfully as if nothing had happened. Wednesday narrowed her eyes slightly. "Did you call Principal Weems to notify her about my "failure"? " David chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Of course not! Everyone needs to vent sometimes. It’s healthy." The others nodded in agreement. Rick smirked a little, but even he didn’t seem too bothered. "Honestly, I kind of expected you to blow up sooner. That was nothing compared to what I thought you’d do." Ashley gave Wednesday an exaggerated wink. "I like a girl who speaks her mind."

Wednesday blinked, clearly taken aback by their nonchalant reactions. She had expected them to be offended, maybe even hold a grudge. But they seemed... fine. Completely fine.

She sat down reluctantly, her posture stiff as ever, but there was a faint crack in her emotional armor. "I still think this is a waste of time," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual venom.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and winced. “I have to take this,” you muttered to Wednesday, who shot you an irritated look. You mouthed an apology and stepped away, leaving Wednesday sitting awkwardly with the group.

David gently steered the conversation back to her. “Wednesday, do you want to share? You don’t have to, of course, but we’re here if you want to talk.”

The urge to reject him outright surged within her, but something—perhaps your words, perhaps the nagging feeling in her chest—made her hesitate. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her coat, and she looked away from the group, staring at the flames instead.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “There’s someone... someone who’s been getting under my skin. Someone who I can’t seem to get out of my head.”

The words felt foreign on her tongue, uncomfortable and raw, but she couldn’t stop them. The group remained silent, waiting, not pushing her.

“This person,” she continued, her voice cold but wavering, “is... everywhere. They keep showing up in my life, in my thoughts. And I don’t want them to. But I can’t stop it. It’s... infuriating.”

David nodded, encouraging her gently. “And how does that make you feel?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” Wednesday snapped, her temper flaring. “Annoyed. Angry. It’s like they’ve invaded my mind, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake them. I don’t like feeling out of control.”

David nods, his tone patient. “How would you feel if you could get rid of those thoughts? Push them out entirely?” Wednesday frowns, the question catching her off guard. She thinks for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she considers it. She felt strange.. she thought she would feel better but she feels.. "Empty." The word tasted bitter on her tongue, foreign and unwelcome. She didn’t realize she had said it out loud until she saw the group’s reactions—or lack thereof. No judgment, no pity. Just quiet acceptance. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

David nods. “Sometimes, the things we resist the most are the things we need to hold on to. They can fill a part of us we didn’t even know was empty.”

Rick leaned forward with a grin on his face,

“So... is this 'someone' on the phone right now?”

Wednesday's head whipped around, her eyes narrowing into a deadly glare. "If you value your life, you'll stop talking."

Rick held up his hands in surrender, but the grin remained. Ashley quickly elbowed him, muttering, “Not the time, Rick.”

Alex groaned loudly, clutching his head in mock agony. "Ugh, All the emotional talk is making me sleepy, I need coffee, like, now. Someone, please, for the love of all that’s good in this world, make some coffee." David looked over at Rick and Ashley. "Alright, Rick, Ashley, why don't you two get the coffee started before Alex dies." Rick gave a half-hearted salute. "On it, boss." He turned to Ashley, who was lounging beside him. "Hey, go grab the sugar from my bag, will you? Ashley rolled her eyes but obliged, getting up with a huff to retrieve the 'sugar' from Rick's bag. Meanwhile, Rick turned to Wednesday, a sly grin on his face. "So, Addams, how do you take your coffee?" "Bitter," she replied finally, her voice flat. "Just like life." Rick snorted, shaking his head. "Of course. Should’ve guessed."

As Wednesday sat there waiting for the coffee to be made, she found herself growing restless. That hollow, gnawing emptiness she had tried so hard to ignore began to surface again, tightening in her chest. Where had you gone? You were always right there, standing beside her, but now you were out of reach well you weren't actually, you were just gone for a few moments and she hated it.

As the minutes ticked by, Wednesday’s thoughts drifted further. What did it mean?

The quiet chaos of her thoughts was interrupted when Rick handed her a cup of coffee. "Here you go, black as death itself."

She took the cup without a word, the warmth spreading through her hands as she stared into the dark liquid. She sipped it, expecting the usual bitterness. But this...this was different. It tasted...a bit weird but more than the coffee, it was her feelings for you that occupied her mind. How had she ended up here? Talking about her emotions, exposing herself in ways she never thought possible? She wasn’t the type to dwell on uncertainty. She preferred things to be direct, to have answers and solutions, but when it came to you—everything was blurred. Once these therapy sessions were over... where would you stand? Where would she stand?

She felt strange. The warmth of the coffee spread through her, loosening the tightness in her chest. The more she drank, the more that strange, comfortable haze settled in, drowning out her usual sharp clarity. She finished her cup without realizing it,

"More," she demanded, holding the cup out toward Rick.

"Whoa, didn’t take you for a coffee fiend," he teased, but he refilled her cup without hesitation.

What would happen once this was over? Once you both returned to your lives outside of these campfire confessions and group therapy? Would you drift apart, as people often do, or would you stay? And more importantly, did she want you to stay?

Everything felt off, but not unpleasantly so. The others were acting weird—dancing, laughing—but she didn’t care. She just wanted more of this feeling, more of the numbness that let her ignore the confusing emotions you always brought out in her. So, she drank more coffee. And more. And more.

Meanwhile, you wrapped up your call . “Yeah, Dad, YEAAAH, I GET IT. I’ll be careful. I already took them, okay? Yes, I’ll call tomorrow. Gotta go. Bye!” You sighed heavily, tucking your phone back into your pocket. That conversation had gone on way too long. You started heading back to the camp, but as you got closer, something felt... wrong. The group was acting strange. They weren’t just sitting and talking anymore—they were dancing. Not the casual, awkward dancing of people who barely knew each other, but wild, like they didn’t have a care in the world.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, scanning the group. Where was Wednesday? You searched for her, but she was nowhere near the fire.

“David,” you called out, hurrying over to him. “Where’s Wednesday?”

David looked at you, his eyes glazed over, a lazy grin on his face. “Wednesday? Today’s Friday... right?”

You blinked. “What? What does that have to do with—never mind.” You looked past him and saw Wednesday, walking by the lake with a... distinct wobble. Your heart skipped a beat. Wednesday Addams didn’t wobble. She is as steady and composed as a statue.

As you approached, you heard her voice—low, muttering, and oddly slurred. "You... why do you do this to me? Always... being there. Except when you're not, which is even worse. But then you're there again, and I hate it, but... I don’t hate it."

You blinked, utterly confused. "Wednesday?"

She turned, almost tripping over her own feet, and gave you a look that could only be described as... perplexed. But not the usual cold, calculated Wednesday-perplexed—this was more... tipsy.

"Ahh, it’s you," she said, squinting at you like you were a strange object she couldn’t quite figure out. "Why are you always... there?" She waved her hand in a vague circle. "Like... just there, making everything... feel... confusing."

You stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. Wednesday never talked like this. "Wednesday, what are you talking about?"

She pointed a finger at you, jabbing it in your direction with surprising force, but her balance was completely off. "You! You make everything so... so... confusing. I don’t like it. But also... I kind of like it. And I hate that I like it. You’re... annoying. But I get more annoyed when you’re not here."

"Okay, Wednesday..." you took a step closer, noticing how she swayed again, her expression shifting between annoyance and something else—something vulnerable. "What’s going on with you?"

"I don’t know!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air dramatically, completely out of character. "I never know with you. I think about you, and it’s like... ugh, why are you in my head?"

Realization slapped you harder than Will Smith's slap to Chris Rock.

“Wednesday, are you... drunk?”

She squinted at you as if your question was offensive. “I don’t get drunk,” she declared. “I’m above such mortal weaknesses. But you... you make everything so complicated. You and your... your stupid face.”

You grabbed her hand to steady her. Her skin was cool to the touch, but the moment you made contact, she froze, staring down at your hand in hers. “Why does this—this thing always feel weird?” she muttered, her voice lower now. “Your hand… it does this thing... makes me feel… something. I don’t like it. But I do. And that’s the problem.”

You ignored the way your heart raced at her words, focusing instead on what was clearly the problem. You glanced back at the camp, suspicion building. Rick. It had to be him. You reached into Wednesday’s coat, pulling out her knife, not paying attention to the fact that you felt several knives, and marched back toward Rick, who was still swaying around, laughing with no care in the world.

“Rick,” you growled, grabbing him by the collar and pressing the knife to his neck. “What the hell did you do?”

Rick blinked, eyes glazed, a goofy grin on his face. “Whaaat? Nothing! I just made the coffee... best coffee ever, man.”

Your eyes landed on the open box near the coffee pot. You picked it up, sniffing it. This wasn’t sugar. Your heart dropped. “Rick, you idiot,” you groaned. “You spiked the coffee!”

Rick just laughed, completely oblivious to the chaos he’d caused. Meanwhile, you glanced around at the others—dancing, laughing, totally out of their minds. Great. You were now in charge of nine drunk people,

And a high Wednesday Addams.

You sighed heavily. This is going to be a long night.

[flowercrowngods]

The Last Day.

Steve doesn’t remember what drove him here — he doesn’t remember a lot of things lately, not that he’s mentioned that to anyone. They don’t really question these things anymore. Fucky vision, nightmares without sleeping, or things that just get lost in the everyday grind of remembering to do normal things like eat or drink or where the fuck he put his glasses.

So, he doesn’t remember what drove him here, if he was supposed to get something or if he just needed to get out of the gym, needed to breathe some air that’s not filled with anxiety and grief and the pressure of survivor’s guilt and why and how and when around every corner, behind every door, underneath every donated item and in every bite of stale peanut butter sandwiches.

The library was never a place of comfort for him, and he honestly never really cared about it one war or another. If pressed for it, he couldn’t name five books in all of these shelves. He never really looked.

But now, in the semi-darkness, the empty shelves are somehow daunting. All useful books were taken, children’s books donated to all the families that stayed, all science books stolen by people who were sure they could fix this, could get behind this, could build generators and water refineries and all that shit.

Somehow, the negative space in these shelves draws him in, and he takes a deep breath. A breath that Dustin would like, probably. It smells like books. It smells old. It smells like, somehow, somewhere, there might still be a constant in this world. Something that will remain. Like maybe there will always be a library that smells of old books. No matter how often the world will end.

It’s a strange thought. But comforting. He trails the shelves, not really looking at the books, walking too fast still to make out the titles in the dim light, but he refuses to stop. He refuses to stand. To linger.

The next two rows are completely empty, and it makes him shiver. Robin probably has a name for the feeling. Maybe melancholy. Or maybe he’s just haunted. Susceptible to absence.

Or maybe they’re the same feeling.

Blindly, he reaches for a book, because his hands begin to tingle and he really needs something to do before his lungs catch up and his brain finds out that he’s somehow almost about to panic, or to relapse, or to drop to the floor if his legs don’t regain feeling soon.

He keeps walking, the book in hand. It’s a slim edition, bound in leather, and it feels really old. Looks like it, too.

Michael Bruce

He carefully flips it open, the old paper crackling with the movement, and he wonders briefly if this is the part of the library that’s usually watched like a hawk, the part where you’re not allowed to touch the books without supervision and certainly not without reason. Maybe. Maybe this Michael Bruce hasn’t seen a real face in a long time.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to find out that they’re mostly poems—and of course they are, old books are almost always filled with poems.

He opens the book at a random page, still needing to settle his hands, his heart, his mind. The title makes his heart drop. “The Last Day.”, it’s called; still his eyes glide over the lines, intrigued.

Twas on an autumn's eve, serene and calm. I walked, attendant on the funeral Of an old swain : around, the village crowd Loquacious chatted, till we reach'd the place Where, shrouded up, the sons of other years Lie silent in the grave. The sexton there Had digg'd the bed of death, the narrow house, For all that live, appointed. To the dust We gave the dead. Then moralizing, home The swains return'd, to drown in copious bowls The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Okay. Sure. So, maybe this Michael Bruce dude is not the best company when the world is sort of ending. But somehow Steve can’t stop reading, and for the first time he kind of doesn’t want to stop reading a poem. This one’s different anyway. This one just… it gets him.

Images of Barb flood his mind. Eddie. Chrissy. Max. Everyone who was lost, everyone who has an empty coffin in their grave and an NDA penned to their name.

To the dust We gave the dead.

The labours of the day, and thoughts of death.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to go back out there. Head to the gym and fold clothes and check the missing posters and make phone calls to find out, to make sure, to keep in touch. The labours of the day. The thoughts of death.

Shaking hands flip the pages, two at once, because he doesn’t want to live the last day; doesn’t want to hear about it. He needs to know how it ends, needs to make sure, needs to find out, just—

A pause ensued. The fainting sun grew pale, And seem'd to struggle through a sky of blood : While dim eclipse impaird his beam : the earth Shook to her deepest centre : Ocean rag'd, And dash'd his billows on the frighted shore. All was confusion. Heartless, helpless, wild.

Suddenly, what little light was left to stream through the windows disappears, stealing the words from beneath his eyes, and before he can look up and breathe, the door to the library bursts open, revealing a panicked Robin.

“Steve?”

“Robbie?”

“You… You better come see this.”

He hears it in her voice. The resignation. Oceans raging as the fainting sun grows pale. Confusion. Helpless, heartless, wild.

He closes Michael Bruce and runs toward her on numb legs, not ready to find out about the new apocalypse he’s gonna find outside the library. And seeing black skies through the windows and pale faces behind them, reflecting against the growing darkness, he wonders if he shouldn’t have skipped through the last day. The Last Day.

Terror in every look, and pale affright Sat in each eye ; amazed at the past, And for the future trembling.

Steve, too, is trembling. And Robin’s hand in his is shaking just as much.

Poetical works of Michael Bruce : with life and writings. William Stephen ed. 1895.

[rootedinrevisions]

Enough for You: Part 4

SUMMARY: The next day unfolds as a perfect day for you and Tyler, starting with a lazy morning spent wrapped up in each other before venturing out for coffee. You stroll through town together, enjoying the relaxed pace as you shop and explore, savoring the simplicity of each other's company. Back home, the day ends with the two of you making dinner and dancing in the kitchen, the playful moments turning into something more intimate. As the night deepens, the connection between you strengthens, leading to another night spent together, the bond between you and Tyler growing even deeper.

WARNINGS: Fluff. 18+ Smut. (Female Receiving Oral, P in V Sex)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3

NOTE: There will be a FINAL part coming soon! I have it mostly written and just need to finish editing it. Hope you enjoy! xx

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The soft glow of morning light filters in through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. Tyler stirs first, his eyes fluttering open as he becomes aware of the comforting weight of your body resting against his. His arm is still loosely draped over your waist, holding you close, and he takes a moment to just watch you, the peaceful rise and fall of your chest as you sleep, your face relaxed and serene.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your cheek. You stir slightly but don’t wake, so Tyler moves lower, his lips brushing the curve of your neck. He lingers there, his kisses gentle and unhurried, each one filled with affection.

You let out a sleepy sigh, your eyes slowly fluttering open as you feel his lips trailing over your skin. A soft giggle escapes you as his stubble tickles your neck. “Mmm… morning,” you mumble, still half-asleep, but already smiling.

“Morning,” Tyler murmurs against your skin, his voice low and rough from sleep. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression soft as he gazes down at you. “Sleep okay?”

You nod, still nestled comfortably against him. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while,” you admit, your voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

Tyler’s lips curve into a small smile, and his hand moves to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. “Your bed hair’s got a mind of its own this morning,” he teases, his fingers combing lightly through your tousled locks.

You let out a playful groan, burying your face in his chest. “Like you’re one to talk,” you mumble, your voice muffled against him.

Tyler chuckles, his chest vibrating against you as he tightens his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Fair enough,” he admits with a grin, his own hair sticking up at odd angles from a night of sleep. 

You lift your head, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you reach up to run your fingers through his hair, attempting to tame the mess. “There. Better,” you say with a satisfied smile, though it’s clear you’ve only made it worse.

Tyler laughs, shaking his head. “Sure, if that’s what we’re calling it.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, his laughter fading into something softer, more intimate. The kiss is slow and unhurried, the kind that makes time feel like it’s standing still, with only the two of you wrapped up in each other.

When he pulls back, he looks at you with a tender expression, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. “I could stay like this all day,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth.

“Me too,” you whisper back, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. You feel so content, so at peace in this moment—like everything you’ve ever wanted is right here, in his arms.

For the next hour, the two of you stay wrapped up in each other, tangled in the sheets and pillows, sharing quiet conversations and even quieter kisses. Tyler jokes about the night before, teasing you about how you’d hogged the blankets, and you fire back with a playful comment about his snoring. The banter is light, the laughter easy, but beneath it all is a tenderness, a sense of comfort that neither of you wants to let go of.

Every now and then, Tyler leans in to steal another kiss, each one a little longer, a little deeper, as if he’s trying to savor the feeling of having you close. His fingers stroke gently along your arm, your back, your side—wherever he can reach—just to remind himself that you’re really here.

At one point, you shift so that you’re lying on your side, facing him. “What?” you ask with a smile, noticing the way he’s looking at you.

“Nothing,” Tyler replies, his voice soft. “Just... I like waking up with you.”

Your smile widens, and you press a kiss to his lips, soft and lingering. “I like waking up with you too.”

You both fall silent after that, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with shared smiles, the soft rustling of sheets, and the occasional kiss, until the world outside your bedroom slowly starts to come alive.

Eventually, the soft warmth of the morning and the comfort of being wrapped up in each other give way to the realization that the day is waiting. Tyler shifts beneath you, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before murmuring, “As much as I’d love to stay here all day, we probably should get up.”

You groan playfully, burying your face in his chest. “Do we have to?”

He chuckles, his hand running up and down your back soothingly. “Unfortunately, yeah. how about we get some coffee?”

That perks you up a bit. You lift your head to meet his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “I like coffee.”

With a shared laugh and a few more stolen kisses, the two of you finally untangle yourselves from the sheets. You get dressed, slipping into something comfortable for the day, while Tyler pulls on his jeans and t-shirt, the casualness of the morning suiting the easygoing nature of your time together.

Before long, you’re out the door and walking hand-in-hand to a nearby coffee shop—a small, cozy place you’ve been to countless times. As you approach, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air, and you both quicken your pace slightly, eager for the first sip.

The barista greets you with a warm smile as you step up to the counter. You don’t even need to ask Tyler what he wants—you already know by heart. “I’ll have an Iced Chai please. He’ll have one black coffee with a shot of espresso,” you say with confidence, then add your own order.

Tyler watches you with a raised brow, a grin forming on his lips. “I see you still remember my order,” he teases.

You flash him a playful smile. “I’ve known it for months now. Don’t think I’ll forget it in a week.”

After paying, you both grab a seat at a small table by the window. The coffee shop is quiet, with only a few other customers scattered about, creating the perfect atmosphere for a laid-back morning. When your drinks and pastries arrive, you hand Tyler his coffee with a knowing look.

He takes a careful sip, and the moment the coffee hits his taste buds, his eyes light up, and a broad smile spreads across his face. “Now this is what I’ve been missing,” he says, his voice full of appreciation. “First good coffee I’ve had all week.”

You laugh softly, pleased with yourself. Tyler sets his cup down and reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb strokes gently over your knuckles, and his smile softens into something more intimate. “You really do know me that well, huh?”

“I know a few things,” you reply with a grin, your heart swelling at the easy, familiar rhythm you’ve already fallen into with him.

As you both enjoy your drinks, the conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by the occasional shared laugh. Tyler tells you stories from his latest trip—his coffee mishaps, Boone’s questionable song choices, and the one time they nearly got lost trying to navigate the backroads. His storytelling is animated, and you can’t help but laugh along with him, the sound of his deep chuckle making you feel more at ease than you have in days.

“Sounds like I missed out on some quality chaos,” you say with a smirk, taking a bite of your pastry.

Tyler nods with mock seriousness. “Oh, absolutely. But don’t worry, we saved plenty for next time.”

You take another sip of your coffee, watching as Tyler talks animatedly about the chaos on the road. His comment about “next time” sticks with you, and you raise an eyebrow playfully.

“Next time, huh?” you say, pretending to mull it over. “Who says I’m going back?”

Tyler’s laughter falters mid-chuckle. His smile fades slightly as his brows knit together, his confident exterior slipping just for a moment. “Wait—what do you mean? You’re not…?” He stutters, clearly trying to process what you just said, his usual easygoing demeanor shaken.

You bite your lip, fighting back a grin as you watch him stumble over his words. “I mean, what if I just stayed home? Couldn’t you guys handle it without me?”

Tyler leans back in his chair, still trying to recover. His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, something he only does when he’s genuinely thrown off balance. “Well, I mean, we could, but—” He pauses, then shakes his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Wait, are you serious right now?”

You hold the straight face for just a second longer, enjoying seeing him a little flustered. But when his expression shifts from confused to mildly concerned, you can’t keep it up anymore. You burst into laughter, finally putting him out of his misery. “I’m just messing with you, Tyler! Of course, I’m coming back.”

Tyler blinks, then lets out a deep sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he shakes his head with a chuckle. “You really had me there for a second,” he admits, his hand resting over his chest as if to calm his racing heart. “I thought I was going to have to beg you to come back.”

You grin, leaning in across the table. “Well in that’s case…maybe I need to rethink and tell you I’m staying home again,” you tease, enjoying the rare moment of Tyler being thrown off his game.

His smile returns, warm and genuine, as he reaches for your hand again, his fingers lacing through yours. “Well, I’m glad I won’t have to. Seriously though… I’m glad you’re coming back.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes your heart skip a beat, and you feel the depth of his words in the way his thumb brushes gently against your skin. He looks at you with that same intensity, the weight of his feelings behind his eyes, and it’s hard not to feel the warmth spreading in your chest.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you reply softly, squeezing his hand in return.

Tyler’s smile widens, his earlier nerves long gone, replaced by that familiar confidence you’ve come to love. “Good,” he says, “because I wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Boone’s playlist for another week”

After you finish your coffees, you and Tyler decide to venture around your neighborhood. The conversation flows effortlessly. You talk about everything and nothing—recapping the week’s chaos, reminiscing about old memories, and making plans for upcoming chases. 

You wander through quaint little shops, discovering hidden gems and quirky finds. Tyler is attentive, holding the door open for you, laughing at your playful comments about the knick-knacks you come across, and offering to carry your purchases. There’s a sense of rediscovery in the afternoon, not just of the town, but of each other.

You find yourselves strolling through a nearby park, the path lined with trees and dotted with families and couples enjoying the day. Tyler catches your eye as you pause to admire a particularly vibrant tree, his gaze softening with a small, contented smile. When you look back at him, you see that he’s watching you with a look of genuine happiness, like he’s seeing you for the first time in a new light.

There’s an ease in the way he moves beside you, an unspoken understanding that this is where he wants to be. Occasionally, you catch him glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking, a smile playing at his lips. It’s a reminder of the comfort and joy he finds in your presence, and it makes your heart swell.

As the afternoon light begins to fade, you both continue to explore, savoring the simple pleasure of each other’s company. The day feels like a dream, filled with laughter, shared moments, and a renewed sense of connection.

After a day of exploring, Tyler drives you back to his place. The drive is lighthearted, filled with easy conversation and laughter. When you arrive, he tells you to make yourself comfortable while he showers and changes into something fresh. You nod and settle into his cozy living room, draping a blanket over yourself as you sink into the couch.

A little later, Tyler comes downstairs, looking relaxed in a simple shirt and jeans. He takes a seat next to you on the couch, and you move your legs to make room for him, before resting them gently on his lap. Tyler's hand naturally finds its way to your knee, and you feel a pleasant warmth as he makes himself comfortable.

There’s a moment of peaceful silence, with Tyler’s thumb gently brushing your leg. You glance up at him, and he looks back at you with a soft smile. The evening feels intimate and comforting, filled with the quiet hum of contentment.

Tyler breaks the silence with a casual tone. “So, now that we’re together and all, have you thought about how this is going to work with the team and the traveling?”

You smile, appreciating his straightforwardness. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too. It’s definitely something we need to figure out.”

Tyler looks thoughtful for a moment. “I was thinking, maybe we should just be honest with the team. They’re going to figure it out at some point anyway, right? But we don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”

You nod in agreement. “We should probably just keep it low-key until we’re ready to talk about it.”

Tyler grins, clearly relieved. “Sounds good to me. I just want to make sure we’re both on the same page. I’m in this for the long haul, you know.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze. “I am too. It feels really good to just talk this out and be on the same page. It makes everything seem a lot clearer.”

Tyler leans back, his smile growing. “Yeah, it does. It’s nice to just be here with you and know we’re figuring this out together.”

The conversation shifts back to lighter topics as you both relax into the couch. You chat about your favorite movies, make jokes about the day’s adventures, and share little stories. The easygoing vibe of the evening continues, making you both feel even more connected.

As the sun sets and the evening light filters softly through the windows, you and Tyler decide to stay in for dinner again. This time, you both agree on a little culinary adventure—something a bit more ambitious than the simple pasta from last night. Tyler suggests trying a new recipe he found, and you happily agree, eager to explore the kitchen together.

You set out the ingredients on the counter, and Tyler rolls up his sleeves and gets ready to help. “Alright, Chef,” he says with a grin, “what’s the game plan for tonight?”

You laugh, handing him a couple of vegetables to chop. “You’re on sous-chef duty. I’m taking the lead, so just follow my instructions and try not to mess things up.”

Tyler feigns offense but takes his role seriously, chopping and stirring with exaggerated care. The kitchen is filled with the sound of chopping and the occasional clink of utensils, punctuated by your playful banter.

“So,” Tyler says as he adds a pinch of salt to the pot, “what’s the craziest recipe you’ve ever tried?”

You think for a moment, a smile playing on your lips. “There was this time I tried to make homemade sushi. It was a disaster. The rice was too sticky, and the rolls fell apart. We ended up with a pile of sushi salad instead.”

Tyler laughs, shaking his head. “Think I’m glad I missed out on that meal.”

As you both continue cooking, the conversation flows naturally from light-hearted stories to more meaningful topics. Once dinner is ready, you set the table and sit down to enjoy your meal together.

After finishing dinner and clearing away the dishes, you and Tyler decide to wind down with some music. Tyler sets up the Bluetooth speaker in the living room while you head to the couch, pulling out your phone to show him the playlist you’ve saved.

“I made this for you awhile back,” you say with a smile. “It’s full of your favorite songs.”

Tyler raises an eyebrow, clearly touched. “I didn’t know you kept track of my favorite songs.”

You laugh, feeling a warm glow at his reaction. “Well, I try to pay attention. Now, let’s see how well I’ve done.”

As the first song starts playing, you both settle onto the couch, letting the melodies fill the room as a background for your conversation.. Tyler pulls you closer, resting his arm around your shoulders. You start swaying gently to the music, feeling the comfort of his embrace.

An upbeat song came on, prompting Tyler to stand up and grab your hand with a mischievous grin. "C'mon."

You look up at him, a confused look spreading across your face. “What are you doing?”

“Dance with me?” He said, continuing to hold out a hand to you.

Laughing, you let him spin you around the kitchen. Your feet easily found the rhythm, and soon enough, you were dancing across the floor, Tyler’s hand firmly at your waist, guiding you with effortless ease. The energy between you felt vibrant, playful, and carefree—just two people enjoying the moment. You were laughing, teasing each other when one of you missed a step, and it felt like everything else had melted away.

Then, a slower song drifted in, the kind that made the air feel a little heavier, more intimate. Tyler’s hand slid from your waist to your back, pulling you a little closer as his movements slowed. He didn’t need to say a word. The moment naturally shifted from playful to something deeper, quieter. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, swaying together in the dim kitchen light. The feel of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, the warmth of his arms around you, made everything else disappear.

Tyler’s hand gently moved up your back, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly as if he wanted to memorize every part of you. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, and the look in his eyes was filled with something you couldn't quite put into words. His thumb brushed softly against your cheek, and without breaking eye contact, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

It started slow and tender, the kind of kiss that says everything words can’t. But soon enough, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more hungry. His hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned into him, your fingers threading through his hair. The kitchen seemed to vanish around you, leaving just the two of you, caught up in the intensity of the moment.

Tyler broke the kiss for just a second, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice husky but laced with care, as though he wanted to make sure you were right there with him.

You nodded, your breath coming out shaky but full of certainty. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered.

With that, something shifted between the two of you. Tyler’s lips found yours again, more passionate this time.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the world fall away, leaving only Tyler’s warmth and the softness of his lips against yours. Without breaking away from you, Tyler's strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you effortlessly. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your lips still locked in a heated kiss as he carried you down the hallway toward the bedroom. Every step was slow, deliberate, as though he was savoring every second, refusing to rush a single moment. The way his hands cradled you, steady and gentle, made your heart race with anticipation.

When he finally reached the bed, Tyler lowered you onto it with such care that it made your breath catch. He hovered above you, and for a moment, just looked down at you, his eyes searching yours. "You don’t have to…" he began, his voice low but tender. 

You shook your head, cutting him off with a quiet but firm whisper. "I want this. I want you."

Tyler’s eyes darkened with desire, but his focus never left your face as you pulled him down into another kiss, more urgent now, fueled by the heat between you. His hands slid down the curves of your body, mapping every inch of you as if he needed to commit it to memory. You shivered under his touch, his hands dipping lower to the hem of your shirt, where he began pushing it upwards, his fingertips grazing your skin in the most tantalizing way. The kiss broke only long enough for him to pull your shirt over your head and toss it aside.

He paused to admire you for a beat, before his mouth was on you again—pressing slow, deliberate kisses along your shoulders, your collarbones, and further down your chest. His mouth moved between the cups of your bra, each kiss setting your skin alight. As his lips continued their trail down your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your jeans, you felt your body ignite with anticipation.

But Tyler didn’t rush. He gave you another lingering kiss, his tongue softly teasing yours as your fingers found the buttons of his flannel. You paused for just a second, smiling to yourself. You loved the way he looked in his favorite red flannel, but you knew you might like it even more off him. You quickly began unbuttoning it, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. Tyler shrugged out of the flannel, tossing it carelessly to the floor, and the moment it was gone, your hands were on him, running down his chest and tracing the hard lines of his muscles.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice husky but full of concern. His thumb brushed your cheek, his gaze intense but careful.

You nodded without hesitation, smiling softly. "I’m sure."

His lips curved into a smile before he kissed you once more, this time with more urgency. As his hands moved lower, they found the button on your jeans, swiftly popping it open. He slid them down your hips, leaving you in nothing but the black lace bra and matching underwear. His eyes darkened as he took you in, his breath hitching just slightly. 

"God, you’re beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with admiration.

Without another word, Tyler shed his own jeans, his belt clattering to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs. He crawled back onto the bed, his lips meeting yours again, but this time his hands were more eager. One hand slipped behind your back, and with a single motion, he expertly unclasped your bra. You barely had time to wonder how he’d gotten so good at it before his mouth moved to your breasts. His warm lips wrapped around one of your nipples, while his rough, calloused hand cupped the other, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your head fell back against the pillow, a soft moan escaping your lips, and the sound seemed to drive Tyler crazy. "I could listen to that all night," he murmured against your skin, his voice filled with raw desire.

As his mouth worked on your breasts, one of his hands slipped down to the fabric of your underwear, teasing you through the lace. You instinctively rolled your hips, desperate for more friction, more of him. Tyler chuckled softly, pulling away from the kiss to look at you with that familiar smirk. "Needy, huh?" he teased, his voice deep and low. 

Your breath hitched at the thought of him between your legs, and the soft groan you let out gave you away. Tyler’s eyes flashed with desire. Without a word, he moved to kneel at the edge of the bed, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he pulled you down to meet him. In one swift motion, he slid your underwear off, tossing them aside, and then spread your legs with a gentle, yet commanding, touch.

He leaned in slowly, his eyes meeting yours before he delivered one excruciatingly slow lick up your folds. You whimpered at the tease, your body arching toward him, desperate for more. Tyler grinned up at you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Patience, baby" he murmured, before leaning in again, his tongue moving with more purpose now, drawing out soft moans and gasps as he worked, making you feel as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you and the heat building between your bodies.

Tyler didn’t stop until he felt you trembling beneath him, your body arching into his touch as you reached your climax. His mouth continued its relentless work, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you were a mess of gasps and moans. When he finally pulled away, you watched through half-lidded eyes as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Crawling back up the bed, he hovered over you, his hands gently brushing stray strands of hair from your face as he looked down with concern. "You okay?" he asked softly, his thumb tracing your cheek in slow, comforting strokes.

You nodded, still catching your breath, your body buzzing from the high. "I’m more than okay," you whispered, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. But there was more—something deeper pulling at you, and you met his gaze, your voice soft but full of need. "I want to feel you."

Tyler’s expression shifted, he pulled back slightly, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand for a condom. You watched as he tore open the wrapper and rolled it on, his eyes never leaving yours as he prepared for the next step.

He leaned back down, positioning himself at your entrance again. Slowly, he slid into you, the feeling so overwhelming that both of you let out a low groan at the same time. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed all the way inside you, your body adjusting to the fullness, and you felt his grip tighten on your hips, his strong hands grounding you in the moment.

He paused for a beat, letting the two of you savor the closeness before he started to move, his hips pulling back slightly before he began thrusting again. His movements were slow at first, deliberate and gentle, as though he was savoring every inch of you. The sensation was almost too much—each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Your hands found their way to his back, your fingers digging into his skin as you held on to him, anchoring yourself to the moment. Tyler picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more sure, more powerful, and you couldn’t help the way your body responded to him, your hips rising to meet his rhythm.

The room filled with the sound of your soft moans mingling with his heavier breaths, both of you lost in the moment. You could feel the pressure building again, an undeniable heat pooling low in your stomach. Tyler must’ve felt it too, because his pace quickened, each thrust more urgent, more insistent.

You moaned his name, and that seemed to drive him over the edge. His hands moved to cradle your face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his voice rough with desire. "I’m close," he muttered, his breath ragged.

You nodded, unable to form words as your own climax started to build. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you, and when you finally fell over the edge, it hit you like a wave crashing through your body. Tyler groaned as he felt you tighten around him, and a moment later, he followed you, his body shuddering as he found his release, buried deep inside you.

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed there, tangled together, your bodies pressed close as you both came down from the high. Tyler’s forehead was still resting against yours, both of you panting softly, hearts racing in sync. Slowly, he pulled out of you, collapsing beside you with a heavy but contented sigh.

The silence that followed was comfortable, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and your combined breaths. You turned your head to look at him, a lazy smile spreading across your face as you met his eyes. Tyler looked equally dazed, his chest still rising and falling as he caught his breath.

"That was…" you began, but you couldn’t quite find the right words.

"Yeah," he chuckled softly, reaching over to lace his fingers with yours. "That was something."

For a while, neither of you said anything. You just lay there, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence, that hazy afterglow wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. 

Tyler shifted, pulling you closer so you were curled up against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, strong and reassuring beneath your ear. As you drifted into a peaceful silence, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. 

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 9

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Warning: Smutttt, cursing

Glen

Glen looks down at his watch as he walks out of the gym, tilting his wrist to shield it from the glare of the Friday afternoon sun. 3.30pm. 

He pulls out his phone to text Billie knowing she finishes early on Fridays, opening his texts and looking down at their last message. She’d replied to the message he'd sent at lunchtime asking how her day was going.

He smiles as he looks down at her words, picturing her face as he reads. He's been unable to stop thinking about her since he'd left her place yesterday, certain he was becoming totally infatuated by everything that was Billie.

He goes to type a text message but then quickly deletes it, deciding to facetime her instead. He jumps into his car as his phone starts to ring out, glancing at his sweaty, post-gym reflection in the review mirror just as Billie's face appears smiling on the screen.

“Hey handsome”

Glen can't help the way he grins back at her then. She’s so fucking beautiful, her long hair pulled back into a high pony tail that's snaking down her shoulder, a pair of trendy, clear framed glasses perched on her nose. Almost instantly he feels his insides stirring in that most delectable way - he didn’t know he had a thing for girls with glasses until just now. 

Fuck.

“Hey darlin’. What you doing?”

“Just finishing up some paperwork and then I’m out of here. You?”

“Just finished the gym and thinking about you”

Billie grins teasingly, her eyes bright behind her glasses.

“Oh yeah? Thinking about me and anything specific?”

Glen grins back, taking the bait.

“Well originally I was just thinkin’ about how I wanted to see you again. But seeing you in glasses, now I’m thinkin’ about a whole lot of other things”

Billie laughs gorgeously, her smile taking up her whole face in that way that Glen finds insanely attractive.

“You’re bad Glen”

He winks mischievously. “I’m just gettin’ started Billie”.

They both laugh, grinning back at one another through the screen.

“Anyway” he says, taking his hat off and reaching up to run his hands through his gym-sweaty hair, “The actual reason I called was to see what you were doing tonight?”

“Oh yeah? Any chance you want some company with your Netflix? What do the kids say, Netflix and chill?”

Billie tilts her head and leans back in her chair.

“Can’t say I really had any plans tonight, was just going to head home and take Nugget for a walk and then have a quiet night in with Netflix”

Billie laughs again, this time louder.

“I'm not sure you’re up with the kid's lingo these days old man, Netflix and chill doesn’t mean what you think it means”

Billie shakes her head and chuckles. 

Glen laughs, shooting her a mildly offended face.

“First of all, I’m not old. Second of all, I’m well aware of what Netflix and chill means. And I mean it in that sense and the literal sense” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well then, since you’re offering both, yes, I’d love some company” she replies, winking back gorgeously and making Glen feel all kinds of things, “I’m leaving here in five, so feel free to meet me at home? Usually it takes me about twenty minutes or so to get home”.

Glen nods. “I’ll head home, have a shower n’ grab Brisket, then we’ll come over?”

“Oh yeah? I’m very okay with that too, but only if you’re joinin’ me”

Billie tilts her head as if she's thinking for a moment, her lips stretching into a sly smile.

“You know, I am very ok with you showering at mine if you’d like” she adds flirtatiously, Glen raising an eyebrow as he looks back at the screen.

Billie bites her lip teasingly and grins. “I think that can be arranged”

Glen flashes her his best grin.

“See you soon, peach”.

---

Glen hears Nugget barking before he’s even at the door, Brisket instantly bouncing excitedly at the sound of his friend. Glen lifts his hand to knock but is beaten by the sound of Billie’s voice from somewhere telling him the door is open, wrangling Brisket on the lead as he walks them both inside.

Nugget is all over Brisket the moment they step inside, Glen unable to help his smile at the two boys sniffing furiously and wagging their tails happily. He bends to unclip Brisket and watches when they immediately sprint off into the house, pausing to look at his reflection in the hallway mirror and quickly readjusting his hat.

He lets out a breath and makes his way down the hallway, stepping into the living room to find Billie standing with her hands on her hips in front of a huge, half opened box. It takes him a second to realise that it’s her new couch that’s been delivered, too distracted by how damn gorgeous she looks standing there in her work uniform. His eyes run over her fitted black polo shirt and tight black bike shorts that show off her perfect ass, and for a moment he can’t help but wonder how any of her clients possibly focus when she’s treating them.

“Hey you” Billie says turning to face him, her smile growing bigger when Glen steps towards her and wraps his arm around her waist.

“Hey gorgeous” he replies with his own grin, pulling her into him and kissing her deeply. 

She’s still wearing her glasses from before, her beautiful hazel eyes looking even more so behind the lenses. 

“How was your day?”

Glen nods, looking over at the box that’s taking up the majority of the living room. “I'm surprised it got delivered so quickly”

Billie shrugs, smiling adorably. “Really busy actually! But definitely better when I came home to the Ikea truck pulling into my driveway”.

“Me too” Billie replies, looking back up at Glen from behind her glasses, “And I guess it's good timing that you came over tonight”.

“To help you set it up?”

Glen can’t help his laugh, grabbing her waist again and this time dipping her before he kisses her.

Billie looks up and around as if she’s thinking for a second, shrugging her shoulders innocently when she looks back at Glen.

“Well that, and also, because I'll need to christen the couch, obviously”

“And you say I’m bad”

Billie grins wickedly, reaching up to cup his jaw. “What can I say, you're rubbing off on me”

“Oh yeah? Anything else of yours need rubbing?”

Billie immediately snorts and throws her head back in laughter, Glen instantly deciding that her laugh is his new favourite sound and he’d listen to it all day if he could.

“Wow Glen, that was terrible”

“But it made you laugh though” he replies matter-of-factly and flashing his best smile, bending to kiss Billie again. Her mouth tastes like mint chewing gum and he just can’t get enough.

“You know, if you keep distracting me like this, we’ll never get this couch put together” Billie comments when they part, resting her hands on his chest and looking up at him.

Glen shoots her a mildly offended look. 

“Me distracting you? Darlin’, I don’t know if you’ve looked in the mirror today but I am most definitely not the one being distracting. Look at you” he remarks, stepping back for a moment and gesturing to her in front of him.

“Yes, your work uniform. Your fuckin’ ass Billie, my God it’s just perfect. It’s round and peachy and just--- fuck” he explains, his voice almost pained, stepping back towards her and snaking his hands down until he’s cupping her ass, squeezing her cheeks for emphasis, “It’s perfect. Seriously, how do your clients not just stare at you all day?”

Billie shakes her head in confused amusement, looking down at her outfit and back up at Glen again.

“In my work uniform?”

Billie rolls her eyes and laughs, “I work with high school and college athletes, Glen”

“I’m pretty sure they’re all aware that I’m at least ten years older than most of them”

Glen nods his head enthusiastically in response.

“Exactly my point. God, I’d be fakin’ all kinds of injuries if it meant I got to look at this” he adds, squeezing her cheeks again and making Billie giggle.

Glen shakes his head definitively. “And you think that matters?”.

Billie pulls a face and Glen can’t help but laugh. 

“Trust me darlin’, I was once a college aged boy. A perfect ass is a perfect ass”.

Billie chuckles.

“So am I correct in assuming by those words that you’re an ass man then?”

This time it’s Glen’s turn to chuckle.. 

Glen’s grin grows wider.

“You would be, yes. There’s just nothing fuckin’ better” he says gripping her ass and suddenly lifting her from the floor, Glen loving the way her legs reflexively wrap around his waist.

She folds her arms around his neck but doesn’t say anything, looking down at him expectantly like she’s waiting for him to continue.

“Like, having a handful of this in each hand?” he explains, squeezing her ass again and feeling his deep muscles contract deliciously at the feeling of holding her, “Or you know, seeing it bent over and bouncin’? Just mmm---”

His words trail off into a near-pained groan that rumbles in his throat, Glen instantly aware of his suddenly hardening erection that’s pressing into Billie’s groin. 

Billie looks down at him with bright eyes, clearly amused by his words, and he can tell from her expression that she can more than feel his growing excitement.

“Well, how about instead of just talking about my ass” Billie whispers, cupping Glen’s jaw and bending to kiss him in a way that teases more, “You put me down and help me put this couch together, then maybe I’ll let you bend me over it” 

Her words have an instant response in Glen and he immediately drops her to her feet, Billie laughing at his reaction as he bends and kisses her quickly. She grins up at him, Glen doing his best to ignore his now very restrictive shorts, reaching up to readjust his hat and looking down at her in front of him. 

He smiles wickedly.  “Give me those fuckin’ instructions”

---

Billie

“Screw bracket three into hole two on the base using a ‘C’ screw” Billie reads from the instruction pamphlet, looking up as Glen tightens the screw into the base of the couch. 

Her eyes run over his bulging biceps as he holds the electric drill, and for a second Billie has to remind herself how to breathe. 

He’s wearing a tight black Texas Longhorn’s t-shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly, a black sports cap sitting backwards on his gorgeous head. He looks casual and all-American and sexy as hell, and Billie finds herself seriously struggling to pay attention to her task at hand. Watching him screw the couch together has her thinking all kinds of things, most notably, how badly she wants him to screw her.

“Billie, darlin?” Glen asks suddenly, waving his big hand in front of her face and instantly shaking her from her thoughts, “I said can you pass me another of those big C screws?”

“Huh? Oh yeah sorry” she replies, immediately flustered, leaning back on her knees and grabbing the plastic bag of screws marked ‘C’ from the floor behind her.

“Daydreaming?” he asks when she passes him a screw, looking at her curiously with one raised eyebrow.

She shakes her head and smiles. 

“Just got caught up in my thoughts for a moment” she explains, smiling innocently as she readjusts her glasses and looks back down at the instructions in her hand.

Her cheeks heat when she feels Glen’s gaze on her for a moment longer, knowing she’s been caught and that Glen definitely knows what was on her mind just a moment ago. 

She hears him chuckle before the sound of the electric drill starts again, Billie pressing her lips together and glancing out of the living room window to see Nugget and Brisket chasing each other around the backyard.

Billie turns back when she hears her phone buzzing on the floor, picking it up to find a message in her girl’s group chat. It’s Sloane, asking what she's planning on wearing tomorrow to Chelsea’s bachelorette party, along with several pictures of her own outfit options. The party was going to be an all day event - complete with a full body spa experience, a pole dancing class, cocktails at a rooftop lounge and dancing at some Beverly Hills club to finish off the night. 

“The girls?” Glen asks when Billie’s typing back, Billie looking up to find him gazing at her expectantly.

Billie nods. “It’s Sloane. Asking what I’m wearing tomorrow”.

“What’s tomorrow?”

“A bachelorette party. A very full on bachelorette party to be exact”.

Glen doesn’t say anything, but his expression wills her to explain.

Billie ticks off the itinerary for the party tomorrow, chuckling when Glen’s eyebrows raise at the mention of pole dancing.

“Wow. I don't think I've heard of a bachelorette like that before. Where do you know Chelsea from?”

“She’s actually Bec’s little sister. She’s a few years younger than me, getting married next month” Billie explains, looking down at her phone and back up at Glen, “Her husband Patrick, his family owns olive vineyards or something so they’re really well off. Hence the crazy bachelorette party”.

“I assume the wedding's going to be just as big and crazy?”

Billie laughs. “You assume correct. It's on Catalina Island and I'm pretty sure they've hired an entire resort”.

Glen turns back and finishes screwing another one of the legs onto the couch base, wriggling it to make sure its fixed tight.

“What about you, what are you doing tomorrow? Any plans?” Billie asks, handing Glen another screw when he picks up the final leg.

“Yeah actually, I’ve got a friends birthday somewhere in West Hollywood”

“Close friend?” Billie inquires, typing another response to Sloane before putting her phone back down.

“Yeah, my boy Chord. Used to be my roommate back when I first moved to LA” Glen explains, repeating the process with the last couch leg and fixing it to the base, “We’re still super close”.

Billie tilts her head curiously. “Like, Chord, as in Chord Overstreet?”

Glen turns to face Billie and laughs. “Yes that’s him”

Bille chuckles and shakes her head, suddenly wondering if she'll ever get used to hearing Glen talk casually about his famous friends on a first name basis.

“Alright help me lift this?” Glen says suddenly, Billie getting to her feet and stabilising the back of the couch as Glen lifts it the right way up. 

Glen connects the chaise lounge section as Billie peels the protective film from the leather, the two standing back to admire the finished product in front of them.

“So where are you going to put it?” Glen asks, standing back with hands on his hips beside Billie, looking over their handiwork. “I take it we’re moving this one?” he adds, gesturing to her existing grey three-seater with his foot.

Billie nods, “Yep. And then the new one is going to go this way” she explains, motioning with her hands, gesturing along the wall to the left.

Twenty minutes later they’ve rearranged the living room, taken apart the old couch, and replaced it with the new one, Billie turning to grin at Glen happily when he walks back in from taking the last of the packaging rubbish to her bin outside.

“Happy with it?”

Billie smiles happily. “More than happy. I love it” she remarks, stepping forward to adjust one of the new fluffy throw cushions she’s put on it, before flopping down onto it.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I'm gonna try and sell it. Put it on Facebook marketplace or something” she says, smoothing her hand over the caramel coloured leather.

“Thank you for helping” Billie adds when Glen sits down beside her, smiling gratefully when he reaches over and squeezes her bare thigh, “This probably would have taken me all night if you weren’t here”.

“You’re more than welcome darlin’, it was no trouble at all” he replies with a gentle smile, his fingers rubbing small circles into her skin.

She stares at his hand, loving the way his touch feels, feeling the muscles deep in her belly squeeze the longer she watches it. She hasn’t forgotten about her shower comment earlier today, her imagination suddenly conjuring thoughts of her bent over in the shower with him, Glen standing behind her and matching each push of her hips with his own.

She’s just about to open her mouth to suggest as much, Glen’s phone ringing suddenly and breaking the silence. He squeezes her thigh gently, using the other to fish his phone from his pocket and looking down at the number on the screen, offering an apologetic smile to Billie before he accepts the call.

Her thoughts elsewhere, and a slow-burning fire simmering in the pit of her insides, an idea slowly forms in her brain. She stands up from the couch, pausing mid-stand to bend and quickly kiss Glen, making her way to the bedroom and leaving him alone on her new living room couch.

She pulls the tie from her hair and runs her fingers through her long waves, stripping off her work uniform until she’s naked. She leaves her clothes in a strategic trail from her bedroom to her ensuite bathroom, looking back at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She can feel her heart start to race, butterflies unfurling in her stomach, a mix of excitement and nervousness suddenly coursing through her veins.

Billie leans into the shower and turns the water on hot, steam starting to fill the bathroom after a few seconds. She picks up her phone and lets out a shaky, excited breath, opening the camera and pointing it at the mirror until her reflection fills the screen. She turns and tosses her hair back, looking over her shoulder at the mirror, crossing her legs so that her ass curves in just the right way and she teases just a hint of side boob. Covering her face with her phone, she snaps her best sexy selfie, looking down at the screen and grinning excitedly. Deciding it’s her best work yet and feeling the adrenaline shooting down her spine, she inhales deeply, closing her eyes for a moment to calm herself, before tapping at the screen and sending it to Glen.

Waiting for you to join me for that shower, handsome 😉

Billie grins and tosses her phone onto the bathroom counter, stepping into the shower and under the spray of the hot water. She closes her eyes as she tips her head back beneath the water, sighing when she feels her muscles instantly relax. She takes a second to enjoy it - the feel of the hot water soothing her muscles and washing away the day, and the delicious feeling of anticipation from her devious text. She smiles to herself knowing she has maybe a minute before Glen sees her message, her mind filling with thoughts of one thing only.

Forty-seven seconds later she hears footsteps entering the bathroom, unable to help the way her lips part when she hears Glen curse out loud, followed by a near-pained groan that makes her feel all kinds of things deep in her stomach. She doesn’t turn around, instead hearing the shuffling sound of clothes being removed, a cool breeze from the shower door soon being opened making goosebumps rise on her skin. 

She feels Glen’s arms snaking around her waist and joining her under the spray only a second later, his arousal pressing into her ass, already thick, hard and tantalisingly perfect. A heavy breath falls from her when his hand flattens against her belly, her body being pulled back until she’s flush against his chest. She feels his other hand glide up her arm, fingers collecting her wet hair and sliding it over her shoulder, soon dancing along her throat and pulling her head back against his chest.

The action has Billie reeling, every fibre of her body suddenly on fire, her eyes closing when Glen leans in and presses his mouth to her now exposed neck. She can’t help the sigh that escapes her then, letting herself melt into Glen as he kisses and sucks at her skin in the most sensual way.

She’s in heaven, she’s sure of it, feeling her whole body turn to liquid from the feel of the steamy hot water and Glen’s mouth. She nearly whimpers when the hand on her belly glides lower, teasing her for just a moment before he’s cupping her sex. They both groan then - her at the feeling of his fingers slipping through her slippery folds, him at finding her already deliciously wet and wanting.

Her breathing heavy, she musters a sliver of focus from somewhere unknown and reaches one hand behind to find his arousal, wrapping her fingers around and gliding her fist up and down his thick length. The sound Glen makes in her ear reaches the deepest pit of her stomach, his grip on her neck tightening in the best way and only spurring her on more.

She increases her pace but momentarily stalls when Glen slips his fingers inside her, two and then a third only a moment later, the sudden decadent fullness making Billie cry out his name in the most sinful way.

“I love hearin’ you say my name darlin’’” Glen breathes in her ear, his voice only just audible over the spray of the shower, his words like silky velvet wrapping around Billie’s spine and sending shivers throughout her entire body. 

He’s still holding her throat, holding her pressed against his shoulder as he continues his assault on her neck, finger fucking her with a steady rhythm and making the edges of her vision start to blur.

Billie does her best to focus on her own rhythm as Glen curls his fingers inside her, the sounds of wet and skin getting obscenely louder as they both increase their pace. Billie can feel herself quickly unravelling, slipping further into the heady cloud of erotic bliss, her heart thumping so loud she can feel it in her ears. She squeezes her eyes shut, no longer able to focus on her coordination, reluctantly letting go of Glen and instead reaching for the wall to brace herself. 

She doesn’t quite find the wall though, suddenly feeling herself being flipped around, Glen pressing her back against the tiles, caging her in and kissing her lips again hungrily. His lips are feverish, his tongue licking into her mouth, one of his hands sliding down her thigh before hooking it up and over his arm. 

His free hand snakes back to her sex and within moments he’s buried back inside her, curling his fingers once again in a way that makes Billie moan desperately into his mouth. Glen has a better angle like this, his fingers stretching and fucking her in a way that makes her toes curl, Billie knowing she’s done for the moment he finds that perfect spot inside her.

At some point she has to force herself away from Glen’s lips, dropping her head back against the tiled wall as she cries out into the shower. His lips suddenly abandoned, Glen moves down to her throat and sucks at Billie’s skin, pressing his palm against her clit and making her cry out a second time. Billie’s leg wobbles at the new contact and she grabs for his arm, gripping at his thick biceps to stabilise herself as she feels herself start to tremble.

She knows Glen can feel it too then, knowing she’s right there on the edge, his voice deep and silky in her ear as he tells her to come for him.

“Come on peach, that’s it” Glen breathes, his voice like smooth velvet, “Let me feel it baby, let me hear you come”.

His encouragement is her undoing and all of a sudden she’s coming all over his fingers, gripping onto his arms with everything she has as she spasms around his hand. She can feel Glen kissing her as she rides out her high - aware but unable to focus on the feel of his lips on her neck, her jaw, her shoulder, too caught up in her orgasm flooding through her. 

Eventually she stills, Glen still peppering her with kisses, finally pulling his fingers from her and lowering her leg to the floor. He makes sure she’s stable, still holding her waist with one hand, Billie’s eyes fluttering open to find his pale green eyes looking down at her in awe.

“You okay?”

She answers with an exhausted but emphatic nod, the action making Glen chuckle, Billie smiling when he bends to kiss her gently and tuck strands of stray, wet hair behind her ear.

She squeezes his arm, finally recovered from her release, all of a sudden very aware of Glen’s raging arousal that’s pressing against his belly just inches from her own. She inhales deeply, her next decision forming in her brain, Glen noting the change in her expression and looking down at her curiously.

She licks her lips and pushes herself off the wall, using her grip on Glen’s arms to turn him around and swap their positions so that he’s the one now pressed against the tiles. She leans in and kisses him fleetingly, teasing his lips with her tongue, her hands moving to his chest and suddenly sliding down lower.

Glen’s eyes are on her, his lips parted in anticipation as his chest rises and falls, watching Billie’s every move as she slowly, teasingly, sinks down to her knees in front of him to return the favour.

---

Glen

They’re sitting on the new couch after their shower, Glen with a beer and Billie with a glass of rose, Glen glancing over at Billie beside him. Her damp hair is freshly washed and pulled back into a braid that’s snaking down her shoulder, her clear-framed glasses from earlier perched on her nose. She’s wearing a loose pair of soft, grey sweat shorts and a white cropped t-shirt that teases a slice of her toned abdomen whenever she moves a certain way. Even fresh from the shower and with what he’s pretty sure is a face completely free of makeup, he still can’t help but think how fucking gorgeous she is.

Glen lets out a breath and takes a sip of his beer, relaxing back into the couch. Some part of him is still reeling from the shower earlier, certain he'd never get over the sight of Billie on her knees in front of him. The way she’d worked his cock over and over, teasing him and stroking him in the best way until he was coming down her throat. Her bright hazel eyes when she’d gorgeously grinned up at him, the way she’d winked at him after she’d swallowed. The thought was enough to make him hard all over again.

She was a fucking goddess and my God he’d never seen anything more sexy.

The sound of the doorbell ringing breaks him from his thoughts, Billie moving to put down her glass just as Glen stops her with a hand on her knee.

“You stay, I’ll get it”

He puts down his beer and makes his way down the hallway, both Nugget and Brisket already standing at the door and wagging their tails expectantly. Glen bends to ruffle Nugget’s fur with a smile, before opening the door and frowning when he doesn’t find the Chinese takeout he and Billie had ordered earlier.

“Billie we’re engaged!”

Instead he’s met with a hand directly in his face, a thick, shiny gold ring adorning the fourth finger.

Glen’s frown grows even deeper, confusion taking over his face, the hand suddenly yanking away and allowing Glen a full view of the owner.

“Oh…you’re not Billie”

Glen stares blankly at two men standing in front of him, the expressions on their faces just as confused as his own, the three of them seemingly lost for words as they all stare at one another. Glen watches as the taller one stands back and looks up over the house, as if checking that they’re at the right place, the other still looking back at Glen in bewilderment. 

“But that’s Nugget…” the taller one confirms out loud when he spies the happily panting golden dog at Glen’s feet, the first man with the ring tilting his head and blatantly looking Glen up and down. 

“Where’s Billie?” the taller guy asks.

“Wait, are you---” the man with the ring asks at the same time, the two looking at each other for a second before turning back to Glen when he clears his throat.

“She’s inside” he offers, stepping back and calling Billie’s name into the house behind him.

Glen hears his name whispered by one of the men, turning in time to see them whispering to one another, the taller one’s eyes widening in absolute surprise as he realises who’s standing in front of him.

“Oh my fucking God it is!” the taller one remarks loudly, “You’re Glen Powell!”.

Glen only nods at them, looking over his shoulder when Billie suddenly comes jogging up behind him, her face splitting into a smile when she spies the two men.

“Hey guys!” Billie exclaims, opening the door wider and standing beside Glen, “Everything okay?”

“Oh my God Billie!” the one with the ring shouts, clapping his hands happily, “Look! We’re engaged!”.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Billie stutters, looking back and flashing Glen an apologetic smile, reaching out to squeeze his arm before turning back to the two guys.

He thrusts his hand towards Billie and Glen watches as she immediately erupts into excited cheers of congratulations, rushing forward and wrapping both men in a happy hug. Glen shuffles his feet, still having zero idea who the two men are, looking down at Billie as she takes the man’s hand in hers and closely inspects the golden ring.

"Ryan I love it, it’s gorgeous” she gushes, smiling affectionately up at the two, her eyes soon widening as if she suddenly remembers that Glen’s standing there.

“Glen, this is Ryan and Lachlan, my neighbours” she explains, gesturing from him to the men and back again, “Ryan and Lach, this is Glen”.

“You mean Glen Powell” Ryan emphasises as Glen shakes Lachlan’s hand, Billie laughing and shaking her head when Ryan says something under his breath that Glen doesn’t quite catch. 

Glen grins and steps forward to shake Ryan’s hand next, telling them that it’s nice to meet them both and offering his congratulations on their engagement.

“You both have to come in and have a drink to celebrate” Glen proposes, a soft smile on his face as he gestures to the two to come inside.

“Oh no no, we couldn’t impose like that” Lachlan replies immediately, shaking his head in polite decline.

“Absolutely. We couldn’t possibly interrupt your… date night” Ryan adds, accentuating the words ‘date night’ and shooting a questioning look at Billie that she dismisses with a wink and a knowing grin.

“Guys you just got engaged. Please come in and celebrate” Billie insists, gesturing again for them to come in, “I’m certain I have a bottle of champagne somewhere”.

The sound of the word champagne has them both immediately changing tact, Glen stepping aside and holding the door open for them both to pass by. Billie smiles up at him as she turns to follow them, Glen instead catching her arm and stopping her, bending and quickly kissing her. He doesn’t say anything when they part, only winking back at her and loving the way her lips part into her gorgeous smile, Billie tightening her hold on his hand and tugging him towards the living room.

---

Previous Chapter

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[blackenedsnow]

I love ur writing so much could I maybe request p1 slowly learning to love and be loved 💔

p1 dude learning to love and be loved ; headcanons

WARNING: Emotional detachment, slow emotional healing, and mental health struggles.

PAIRING: Postal (1) Dude x Reader

NOTE: Thank you so much for your kind words! This is sooo sweet and I had so much fun writing this.

At the beginning, Dude is incredibly distant.

He’s been hardened by everything going on in his head, unable to trust anyone, and it takes time before he even acknowledges your presence as something more than just another person in his life.

He avoids eye contact, rarely speaks, and his body language is closed off.

He flinches at touch, even a casual hand on his shoulder can cause him to stiffen.

He’s not used to physical affection and struggles with it, associating touch with pain or vulnerability.

You notice this and take things slow, giving him space while offering gentle reassurances that you’re there for him.

The first step to breaking through his walls happens in small ways.

You notice that he tends to neglect himself—skipping meals, isolating for days, or losing himself in his own thoughts.

You leave food for him, make sure he has a clean place to rest, or leave a blanket for him when it gets cold.

Even though he has that coat on all the time.

He doesn’t thank you at first, but you notice him slowly accepting these gestures, even if he doesn’t show it outwardly.

There are rare moments when you catch a glimpse of his vulnerability.

Maybe it’s late at night when the weight of the paranoia becomes too much, and you find him staring out into the darkness, lost in thought.

You sit next to him, offering silent company.

He doesn’t say anything, but the fact that he doesn’t push you away is progress.

Trust comes slowly for him.

The first time he starts opening up to you, it’s not in the form of deep conversation but in subtle actions—he lets you sit closer to him, or he allows himself to relax slightly in your presence.

It’s a process of him realizing that not everyone wants to hurt him, and you’re someone who’s there to help, not judge.

Dude doesn’t know how to love anymore, not in the traditional sense.

But with time, he starts showing his affection in his own way—he might fix something for you, stand by your side, or give you something meaningful to him, even if it’s small.

He’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but his love is shown in quieter ways.

If you’re having a tough day, he’ll sit beside you in silence, offering his presence rather than words.

His touch remains tentative, but over time, you notice him reaching out—a hand on yours, or resting his head on your shoulder when he feels safe enough to do so.

His biggest fear is losing the one person who has stayed by his side.

The thought terrifies him because he knows how fleeting happiness can be.

When you notice him getting more protective, it’s not out of possessiveness but fear.

He doesn’t know how to express it, but the idea of losing you is unbearable to him.

It takes time for Dude to fully accept that he deserves love.

Even after he begins to care for you, there’s still a lingering doubt in his mind—why would anyone want to be with someone like him?

But as you continue to show him patience, understanding, and unconditional support, he starts to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s worthy of love after all.

There’s a moment when the emotional walls he’s built start to crack.

Maybe it’s after a particularly difficult day, or when his fear catches up to him, but he finally lets his guard down in front of you.

He doesn’t say much, but he leans into your embrace, allowing himself to be vulnerable, if only for a moment.

It’s then that he realizes just how much he needs you.

Slowly but surely, Dude learns that love isn’t about perfection or being strong all the time.

It’s about support, about being there for one another, and allowing someone to care for you, even when you don’t feel like you deserve it.

You’re the person who teaches him that love can be a healing force, and while it’s not a magic fix, it’s a step towards a brighter future.

Dude may never be the most emotionally expressive person, but he’s learned how to love and be loved.

He starts to accept that it’s okay to rely on someone else, and while he may never fully leave behind his paranoia, with you by his side, he begins to find peace in the idea that love doesn’t have to hurt.

[literary-motif]

Since you’ve already done The earis humiliating Zaros could you do zaros humiliating the earis? I hope this isn’t too much to ask for! 🥹

Tables Turned

Zaros Atha'lin x Reader

“Mind if I join you?” Zaros asked, not waiting for a reply as he slid into the seat before you. A few strands of his long blond hair loosened from where he’d tied them back, falling into his face. He tucked them behind his ear elegantly, flashing you a sly smile.

You glared at him. “Do you truly want to grace me with your company when your mother is sitting over there, all alone?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him and taking another mouthful of your food.

Your daily schedule was packed already — the trials and the necessary preparations took up most of your hours awake — and lunchtime was perhaps the only time you could enjoy the quiet and be alone with your thoughts. 

The other nobles did not tend to bother you. Seeing the Earis sitting alone at their table, while Queen Roena ate in the front, overlooking the dining hall, had never stirred them to seek out your company. 

Zaros was an exception, of course. He was in so many things.

“She will manage,” he said, his lips twisting into his signature grin that reeked of a feeling of superiority. It made your blood boil, but you were damned if you let Zaros ruin the little peacefulness you had or spoil the delicious taste of the food in your mouth. 

“What do you want?”

“My Earis,” he said, dragging his fork through the food on his plate. He did not seem to like it much. Zaros always had a particular taste. It made you recall an instance where you had to sneak into the kitchen with precise instructions for a meal you had meticulously composed for him. “Is it so hard to imagine I simply crave the pleasure of your company?”

You did not grace him with a reply. His words were dripping with sarcasm. You ignored him, drowning out his triumphant smirk at your lack of retort and instead focusing on your lunch. 

The cook outdid herself once again. The flavors mixed beautifully, and you closed your eyes to savor the taste. 

The clinking of cutlery snapped you out of your trance. Zaros had set down his fork. The smile had faded from his lips, replaced with a tight-lipped look of disapproval. His brows were furrowed, and you were not sure if you saw distaste or rage twinkle in his eyes. 

You wondered faintly if the food truly could have upset him this much.

“I had a conversation today that made my head spin,” he said, resting his elbows on the table and raising his eyes to bore into you. 

He leaned forward, his gaze hardening. For a moment you feared he would take your plate and smash it to the ground. He reached for the wine instead, pouring himself a generous amount before asking you wordlessly if he should pour you some as well. You declined. He downed half the glass. 

“A— a little birdie told me something very interesting. Can you imagine what it was? I’ll give you three little hints,” he spat, gripping the glass until his knuckles turned white. “Ready? It’s got something to do with you, the Queen, and the trials. Does anything come to mind, my Earis?”

You froze with the fork raised midway up to your mouth. How did he know? Who told him you cheated in the trials?

You blinked, continuing to eat. That was not true. It was not! Technically, it was your mother. Technically, she did not leave you a choice when she told you about having won the first trial. It should not matter anyway, it did not impact the following ones — although you suspected your mother might bend the rules until they broke for giving you a headstart. 

You had not cheated. You had not! Zaros was a sore loser, evidently. This is why he was bringing this up, ruining a perfectly peaceful lunch.

“Do you not have anything to say for yourself?”

“What do you want from me?” you asked dismissively, eyeing Zaros pouring himself another glass of wine in contempt. He looked furious enough to drink himself into a stupor. “You should really go easy on the sweet wi—”

His eyes flashed with a wrath you had never seen before. You expected him to slam his glass on the table, but he set it down gently instead, keeping up his crumbling facade of calmness. 

“You scheming, lying traitor,” he growled low enough only for you to hear. “Time and time again she told me ‘the Ilves will never play fair’ and time and time again I told her they would — you would — because I thought that somewhere within you there was a speck of dignity and honor left. Do you know how much it hurts being proven wrong about someone you thought you knew! This is all the proof I need to know that the person I once lo— knew is gone, and only this— this spoiled palace brat sitting before me remains in their stead.”

It took all the self-control you had not to leap to your feet in anger. Your hold on the fork tightened, your jaw clenched, and the dark look in Zaro’s eyes could not rival the storm brewing in yours. 

He had ruined a perfectly peaceful meal.

“Do not talk to me like this,” you said, keeping a tight hold on your emotions and breathing, breathing — breathe, Earis. 

Take a deep breath when you get angry. Yes, just like this. Try to take your mind off the situation and just breathe. Close your eyes if you need to. Very good. Now breathe in. One. Two. Three. Four. Hold. One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe out. One. Two. Three. Four. Repeat. 

“You’re a husk of a person,” he continued, cutting through the voice you heard when the anger got overwhelming. Zaros was fueling the fire, and the gleam in his eyes — the one he always got when he knew he was pushing you to your limits — was proof enough that he was doing it on purpose. 

You did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you snap. 

“Serulla deserves better than you — better than you and your manipulative mother, abusing her power to give her brat an advantage you don’t deserve. You have never deserved all of your privileges — all the respect your name commanded because people feared displeasing your mother. I wonder if they would feel the same way if they knew Roenna was just as much a despicable person as her child is!”

Earis! No, Earis, listen. Breathe. Breathe! One. Two—

“Get her name out of your mouth!” you screamed, springing to your feet with enough force to knock your chair back. It tumbled to the ground, echoing loudly in the dining hall. Conversations stopped, and you were surrounded by eerie silence as every pair of eyes was trained on you.

Zaros leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. He looked shocked, but you knew that was simply the facade he put up for your newfound audience. There was contentment in his eyes, the same kind of twisted satisfaction at revenge justly served you had spotted in your own gaze on many occasions. 

“Why, Earis,” he said calmly, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he continued the little show he had pulled you into. There was no need for him to speak up, his voice could be heard clearly in every corner of the large dining room. “If I knew you were so hot-headed, I never would have agreed to discuss this with you. It does make me wonder how you’d do in negotiations with the other kingdoms, though. I suppose storming out in a rage would not do well for Serulla.” 

A hollowness swam in your chest, dousing the rage boiling inside you and replacing it with the icy certainty that Zaros had manipulated you. It should not hurt as much as it did, given that you were both contesting for the same throne, literally fighting against each other in trials. 

Still, he was your oldest friend. 

Still, he had exploited the weakness you struggled with most to humiliate you in front of the nobles. 

You cleared your throat, straightening your back to look more composed and salvage what you could of the mess he had dragged you into. “Apologies everyone,” you said, keeping your voice light, and head high. Elegantly, you bent down to pick up the chair, dragging it across the floor to put it neatly back in its place in front of the table. “Please, resume your meals. Excuse me.” 

You did not spear Zaros another glance as you walked out of the dining hall. But you turned your head and caught your mother’s gaze as you left. Seeing the bitter disappointment in her eyes made your stomach twist, ice running through your veins at the reality of what had just happened. 

Winning the trials would be a whole lot harder than you anticipated. 

[fantastic-bby]

Hollywood

Pairing: Reader x Hyunjin

Word count: 1.1k

Genre: Romance | Fluff | Model!Reader | Photographer!Hyunjin

'You were my dream and now it all feels so real'

Warnings: Alcohol

Masterlist | Crystal's Playlist

You. 

Beautiful you. 

Hyunjin can’t stop himself from picking the camera up from his bedside table, the repeated clicking of him winding the film filling the air. 

“Stop it,” you laugh lazily while reaching your hand out to stop him from taking more photos. 

“I can’t help myself,” he chuckles as he holds the camera in front of his face, framing you so perfectly through the viewfinder. 

He still can’t bring himself to believe that you’re real. He just doesn’t understand how someone as amazing as you actually exists and is right before him, haphazardly wrapped in the soft, linen sheets of his bed, your red dyed hair fanned over the pillow you lay on in a way that’s almost halo-esque.

You were classmates before friends, dreamers who would sit at the back of class giggling over modelling poses together. You were friends before complements, the same industry, but different roles where you were posing in the limelight on one floor, he was editing photos of other models a few floors down - now out of touch with each other with the busy days of work. Complements before lovers, an accidental brush of skin, fingers pushing hair out of your face before he framed you, his muse, and printed you on pages upon pages of magazines.

Lovers. 

Hyunjin didn’t know how to describe it. 

There was so much love in his heart for you, yet he didn’t think it was enough at times. He always wonders whether he’s giving you what you deserve as he takes yet another photo of you on his film camera; the same one you gifted him when you were 20 and in university. 

The same one that he used to take his first ever photo of you down by the docks a half an hour walk from your dorm. 

The same one that was basically the main factor in his final year project granting him a graduate in first class honours. 

Hyunjin loves art. He loves visual art and all the likes - photography, paintings, drawings, sculptures - you. 

There’s nothing in this world that he thinks would ever do you justice. Not paintings, not sculptures, not even his own camera. He thinks that no image could ever replicate just how ethereal you look in reality. 

The way your eyes fill with so much love and comfort when you see him, the way you laugh at even the stupidest things he says, the way you look at him buried within his sheets.

Nothing could compare to the real you. 

The real, living, beautiful you. 

He doesn’t understand how great he must’ve been in a past life to have been blessed by you in this one. He’s convinced that you were brought to him by the universe. 

You’re the reason he’s in this life anyway. 

If it weren’t for you, Hyunjin wouldn’t have ended up becoming a modelling photographer in the first place. 

He graduated as an editor and a designer, working hours away into the dead of night to finish projects and meet ridiculously quick deadlines. Eyes boring into the glowing screen with darkness shrouding him, Hyunjin had become used to what felt like a lifeless life. He got used to a rinse-repeat of waking up, eating, working, meeting you, working, and sleeping for maybe four hours if he was lucky. 

But when you had somehow peeled Hyunjin away from his computer, he realised that there was more to life. 

“Do you really have to go?” you pout, half-lidded eyes begging him to keep you company while you drank the night away. 

“I have to work, hun,” he chuckled. It was common for you both to use pet names with each other, even when you were in university. For some reason, it had stuck when he jokingly called you ‘love’ one day while he was cooking dinner for you both. 

Dazed, Hyunjin didn’t understand what it was that he was feeling as he looked at you. He watched the way you closed your eyes for a moment, seemingly in drunken thought before you turned away with a sigh. Attention now stuck on the bright, glowing moon that hung in the sky, you let out a contented hum. 

“Maybe you should quit your job and just hang out with me,” you jokingly say. 

Hyunjin watched the way you swayed along with the music. He could’ve honestly convinced himself that he had dreamt the entire night with how surreal it felt. 

He wondered whether he had always loved you. The feeling that surged through his veins felt unbelievably refreshing the more he realised that he was in love with you. Images of you flashed through his mind like a collage, all of which framed as though they were taken with the old film of his camera. 

It couldn’t have been real. 

Until you turned back to him and returned the stare wordlessly. You didn’t even seem to question the way Hyunjin was looking at you. Despite the alcohol that flooded your own veins, you somehow recognised that it was love. 

So you clumsily leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his lips, Hyunjin recoiling purely out of shock and staring at you with wide eyes. You stayed in place, inches away from his face with your star-filled eyes looking up into his. It took a moment for his mind to process what was happening, and when it did, it didn’t take long for him to know what he wanted.

“Fuck it, I’ll quit my job,” Hyunjin blurted out before pressing his lips back onto yours. 

It took a day before he sent in his resignation letter to his boss and buddy up with the photographers in your company to work exclusively with you. He doesn’t understand how he even got in with how quickly and surreal the process was. 

Somehow, your producers loved how Hyunjin framed you so much that they let him work exclusively as your photographer. 

And you were exclusively his muse. 

It didn’t matter who the shoot was for, Hyunjin would be the one taking photos of you. 

It didn’t matter if the magazine had their own photographers because none of them were ever able to properly capture you. 

So, here you are. 

Laid in bed with Hyunjin still taking photos of you that he planned to develop later in the weekend. Trembling just at the feeling of your hand in his, Hyunjin thought this sort of love only ever existed in movies. With his head buried in the crook of your neck and his entire body almost shivering at your scent, he still couldn’t understand how he was living a life like this. 

“I still have to convince myself that you’re real,” Hyunjin mutters against your skin where he presses a featherlite kiss. 

“Why’s that?” you hum. 

“You’re like a dream. It’s insane - I don’t know how to describe it. But it feels like you’re something that I had always dreamed of and yet -” he pulls away to look into your lovesick eyes. Hyunjin smiles and presses his lips to yours, letting the flavour of the wine that lingers on your tongue melt into his mouth before he pulls away. 

He sighs and smiles. 

“Yet you’re so, very, real.” 

[jhoneybees]

Confession

Ahh!!! This little blurb is for @halieghhh it's so fun to talk to you and I really enjoy your company! I've got more blurbs coming out for more of my wonderful mutuals because I think it's going to be a tradition! Writing little fics for my lovely friends🥹💕

Characters: 50s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: Nothin' at all

Tags: @atleastpleasetelephone @another-identityofmine @i-r-i-n-a-a @theelvisprincess

_____________________________________________

You love how Elvis takes you out on these little friendly dates, alone at the harbour sitting on picnic blankets and eating small finger sandwiches. He always seems to know all the things that you like.

Except one thing.

And that is that you like him, he doesn’t know you have feelings for him. You’ve been best friends ever since you two were babies and when you confess after he finishes his sandwich he almost chokes.

“Oh! Are you okay?” You ask in a worried tone, looking around to find the glass bottle of juice in the picnic basket as he coughs.

“I-I’m alright-” His voice, straining. Nodding with a weak thanks as you pour him a cup.

You rub his back, mentally kicking yourself for saying such a thing right after he’s about to swallow food. You avert your gaze, thinking and frowning upset with yourself but that soon goes when you hear a sudden low chuckle.

“What?” You question, looking up into his blue eyes that are the same colour as the water surrounding you.

You watch as he chuckles again, this time shaking his head, carefully reaching out to grab your hand. “It’s cute how you get all worried like that.”

Your heart skips a beat.

He smiles, seeing his eyes flick down to your lips. “I like you too.”

You gulp “...R-Really?”

“Mhm…”

A hitched breath falls from your parted lips as he leans towards you. Ever carefully using his hand to cup your cheek while he slides the other down behind your thigh pulling you to lay your head on a cushion. The anticipation of his pillowy lips pressing against yours killing you but he soon resuscitates you as he gives a gentleness that makes your heart kick against your ribcage. A kiss.

Something you’ve been waiting for for years.

You breathe in his clean and smooth cologne, shyly resting your palms on his chest. You sigh relieved at the burden you’ve been holding in finally fluttering away.

“Mm…”

He pulls away, Elvis’ warm breath floating over your wind chilled skin as he admires you. “Loosen up…” He tells you, quietly, his hand gliding over the curve of your hip.

Laughing as you begin to blush.

“Ya poor lil thing.” He coos playfully, pecking you once and twice before enveloping you in another love filled kiss.

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Information: My art blog doesn't have the same reach as the main one, so I don't share links to collections there, it would simply be shooting in the foot (It happened to me by mistake, but I deleted it and shared it again, but on the main blog, because seriously, that one the blog is not my main one and my works go there after I deleted my deviantart, because it turned out to belong to an Israeli company)

So yes, this blog exists because there are not many alternatives (And I prefer not to risk finding out again that another website is like Deviantart, Tumblr is not perfect, but it's better than my works getting lost on the main blog, and then I would have a problem with the skin color of my OCs)

Many of the older works are still from debiantart, I had to move everything from one site to another, so…

Now that I have your attention:

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

Remember that if you can't donate money (no bank account or job), at least reblog fundraising posts to reach a wider group of people

[wickedhawtwexler]

things are picking up in my job search hell yeahhh

[einsatzzz]

art time-lapse of this piece that i posted in IG b4 to try out doing reels. i really like how this turned out overall plus "yasashii suisei" (link for eng tl) really fit the vibes so im queueing this here too

[numetalkids]

*inhales*.....................DEEP SIGH

[what-wait-why]

second round/third (and hopefully last) of the root canals is done!

I'm definitely in pain, but it's a clean kind of pain compared to what i had before. and not as bad.

now to get my wisdom teeth (+ one other beyond saving) out next month

[yoshistory]

I've been meaning to make a bunch of phonecalls for months and i got them all done yesterday @__@