choyboxx

[choyboxx]

I WILL BE CONTINUING THIS OMG, YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND. IF ANYONE HAS ANY IDEAS OR THINGS YOU WANNA SEE WITH THIS SAY THE W O RD

×VSC×

Ahhhhh hello!!

I was wondering if I could request something for Thomas Hewitt? (Gender neutral reader ofc)

Perhaps after years of being with his s/o they just kinda- run away together? They pack some stuff in the middle of the night and take a working car with gas before driving to a house far away that his s/o had prepared to call home with him?

Just getting him away from the bad life he was put into and allowing him to start a new one in a much nicer environment. (Not a city ofc because I myself despise cities and I bet he would too)

Ahhh sorry it's so long!! If it makes you uncomfortable or you don't feel motivated to write it just let me know!! I don't mind!!

×Vexelier×

Me & You

Thomas Hewitt x GN!Reader

— Summary: After the passing of Luda Mae, you finish what she had started and give you and Thomas both a new start.

— CW/TW: explicit language, fluff, maybe angst if you squint, major character death (Mama Luda), loss mentioned, confessions of love, giving this boy all the love I can, I think that's it

— Word Count: 3.2k ish

— A/N: So sorry this took so long! I was really struggling with how I wanted this to go and I hope this did your idea justice! It was so much fun oml. Also the first time I've really written for this big man so I hope I did him justice as well. Sorta proofread, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy and thank you sm for the request!

You find yourself wondering late nights just how you’d got to this point in life. The simple answer could be that death trap you called a car four years ago, considering it’s the reason you landed in the grasp of the Hewitt family. Maybe it was all the things that caused you to go looking for a new life. A part of you liked to entertain the idea of some twisted butterfly effect where one small interaction years and years ago landed you here. The other half of you that grew tired of making sense of life simply wanted to call it fate.

Regardless of whatever it was, an invisible force or happenstance, it had come to learn you are a determined little shit. Not for your sake, but for his.

Thomas Hewitt had been the reason you avoided that table in the basement, but not the cause. Luda Mae had always wanted a happy ending for her boy, something far from where they found themselves when you fell into their laps. Call it old intuition or simple desperation, but Luda saw you as her last hope for her boy. She announced you as off-limits, struck a deal that bargained your life, and called it a day. The others were never given any insight as to what she had said to you in the room that shortly became yours nor would you ever share.

Even four years later, as you stood over her freshly decorated grave. You clutched onto her note, the equivalent to her will, and pressed your knuckle to your quivering lip. She had held up her end of the deal in her final days, leaving all details in the crinkling letter addressed to you. That night you would bury the hatchet and hold up your own.

True to your word, as the majority of the house settled in for the night you went to check on your getaway car. You packed light, taking only what you and Thomas needed including a few keepsakes from Luda that Thomas would appreciate having. It was all shoved into an old SUV you and Luda had kept under the illusion of you learning how to fix up cars for Hoyt’s sake. You took the wad of cash you earned selling prescription pills you found on victims and tucked it in the center console. Luda hadn’t been entirely impressed with your methods but wasn’t ignorant to Hoyt scavenging your paycheck from work like a vulture. You dig the note out of your pocket and fold it to show the small letter she addressed to Tommy.

Closing the driver’s door silently, you leaned against it with a deep inhale. It was now or never. Quickly, you rush to the house before making your way leisurely to your shared bedroom, noting Hoyt’s unconscious form on the couch.

Thomas sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his hair still somewhat kempt from the ‘funeral’ earlier in the day. Immediately his head snapped up at the sound of you entering and a whine escaped his throat, reaching for you instinctively. His eyes were bloodshot and his face caked with dried and fresh tears. A pang of guilt shook your chest before settling in your stomach. He needed you now more than ever but you’d been busy finishing what Luda started.

“Oh, Tommy…” You quickly walked into his arms, curling your own around his head to cradle it against you as you stood between his legs. He continued to let out broken sobs and groans, muffled by your clothed torso. His hands found the small of your back and he gripped onto the fabric tight enough that you worried it’d tear.

You remained like that for a few minutes, shushing him and kissing the top of his head when a particularly harsh sound would rip from his throat.

As he began to calm down he started to lay back onto the bed, pulling you with him. Planting your feet on the floor and resisting his pull you’d so often fall right into made him pause, scared and sad eyes looking up at you through wet lashes. Slowly you kneeled and took one of his hands, kissing his knuckles, up his arm, his shoulder, leaving a few nibbles on his neck and jaw, before giving a chaste kiss to his lips. You had his full attention now, his cheeks flushed from what you could see around the mask.

Your voice was hardly a whisper, almost competing with the AC down the hall Hoyt had purchased with your paycheck. “Sweetheart, do you trust me? I mean wholeheartedly trust me.”

He blinked then nodded quickly, his hair bobbing along.

You leaned closer and looked him straight in the eye. “Do you know that I love you? More than anyone and anything in this world? That Luda Mae did too?”

His lips quiver and he nods again, more subtle this time.

Slowly you reached in your pocket and offered him the note. He looked down at it and gave you a confused look before recognizing the writing. He took it with shaking hands and read quietly.

Out of respect, you hadn’t read what was meant for Thomas. You just hoped whatever she put would be enough to convenience him to leave with you.

Thomas’ face went unchanging as his eyes scanned the page. Then without warning he stood and walked over to the nightstand, pulling it open and searching frantically. You rushed over to his side and placed a hand on his arm, soothing him. “Shh, you have to be quiet Tommy. Everything we need is already packed. All I need now is you, Thomas.”

He looked at you with surprise and shook the letter in his hand, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Mama said help ya leave.”

It took a moment for you to collect yourself after hearing him speak. Even after years, you had come to learn while being fully capable of speech, Thomas was much more comfortable communicating, frankly, in any other way. Which was sometimes not at all.

You nodded and turned him to look at you, taking his face in your hands and brushing stray hairs out of his eyes. “With you Tommy. You can read what she wrote me while I drive okay?” You kissed his masked chin and took his hands. “We worked really hard for this. To give me and you a fresh start. We can leave, go to a place I’ve already rented, make it a home, make a whole new family if you want. Me and you, Tommy.” You looked into his eyes, attempting to pour every ounce of love into him. “I could never leave you here and I won’t stand for you to be used and mistreated anymore. Luda didn’t want this for you and neither do I. You deserve to be happy, sweetheart.”

The look in his eye could only be described by poets; someone with a lexicon larger than your own and even then would they struggle to capture the utter adoration and love that shone in his eyes. All of it was overshadowed by the overwhelming hope and desire to have a life like that with you.

Thomas leaned down and kissed you fervently, his arms slipping around you to lift you off the floor a little.

You hummed into the kiss and curled your arms around his neck, scratching gently at his scalp. If time would have waited for you, you would have happily stayed like that for the rest of your life. However, with your newfound confidence and reassurance to take your lover somewhere safe, you were ready to spring into action.

Both of you snuck hurriedly out of the house, allowing Tommy to take a detour to Luda’s grave for one last goodbye before making your way to your escape.

You situated Thomas as comfortably as you could in the passenger seat, covering him in one of Luda’s quilts to prepare for a long ride then running over to the driver’s side to climb in. You leaned over and gave him one last kiss before turning on the engine and pulling out like a bat out of hell.

For the first hour of the drive, Thomas kept looking behind the car in fear of seeing that damned cruiser. Not that you blamed him, you would be too if you hadn’t known that every tire on the property had been slashed but half an hour before your departure. You wanted to reassure him but a part of you felt it was better left unsaid, instead, you settled on comforting him every so often.

“It’s okay. He’s not coming. I’m not going to let another soul ever lay a finger on you. No one else gets to treat you like that again, not gonna be used anymore.” You attempted to keep a gentleness to your voice but you both could hear the anger that threatened to boil over at the thought of the years you witnessed Hoyt twist Thomas’ loyalty for his own benefit.

It distracted him momentarily, looking at you in awe and amusement. You were capable, that much had been proven during your stay in the Hewitt residence. Regardless, it gave Thomas an unfamiliar warm feeling when you’d stick up for him; someone left to fend for himself and used as a weapon by others. It was a feeling he’d decided that he wouldn’t mind experiencing more often.

Around the second hour, he began to doze. He took his mask off after a little encouragement to settle in for a nap. You reached over with your left hand to trace lazy shapes onto his scarred arm as he fought sleep to continue gazing at you lovingly.

You avoided taking your eyes off the road but stole quick glances at Thomas every once in a while.

“Tommy?”

He grabbed your hand and gave it a small squeeze, his way of responding.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. Your eyes look like they’re a second away from rolling into the back of your head. I promise, no one’s gonna get us. No more killing or yelling or hurt, Tommy. I just said so, didn’t I? I’m gonna take care of you. Give you the life me and Luda worked so hard for.”

You slowly moved your hand to cup his face, almost getting whiplash from jerking your head toward his direction when you felt tears in your palm. “Tommy? Tommy, baby what’s wrong?”

You slowed the car, taking a quick glance to ensure the road was still empty for miles to come. He shook his head and made a noise of distress. You frowned and pulled off to the side of the road before throwing the car in park and leaning over the center console, wrapping as much of your upper half around Thomas as possible.

You kept your ear close to his face to listen, coaxing him to speak if even a little.

“Talk to me, Thomas, yeah? You don’t gotta say much, just tell me what’s got you upset.” You scrambled for a notepad and pen in the glovebox before he grabbed your hand to stop you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You heard him let out a quiet rumble, his words slurred. “‘M happy.”

Smiling big and pressing gentle kisses against his temple you whisper. “I am too. I’m happy with you.” You pulled away enough to look into his eyes, not missing the way he ducks his head in an attempt to hide his marred face. Chuckling softly you kissed his forehead and spoke softly. “I’ll let you get away with hiding that handsome face from me this time, okay? Get some sleep, we’ll be there in a little over an hour.”

Reluctantly, he let go of you and settled back into the seat that didn’t quite fit all of him. You pulled the quilt over him a little and smiled at the faint blush over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

At the four-hour mark, you pulled into the driveway of a small two-bedroom house some lawyer had been dying to rent out. The place had character, certainly in need of a little love, but miles better than where you’d come from. It wasn’t entirely secluded either, unfortunately, but it had enough space to give you breathing room between your neighbors down the road. The big selling point was that it was partially furnished. Sure, you had managed to pay a couple of months in advance with rent and had enough to cover bills and groceries for one, but that didn’t mean you were well of enough to furnish the place.

With a content sigh, you exited the car, leaving the door open as to not startle Thomas, and began unloading as much as you could into the house without waking him.

He was a heavy sleeper, something you contributed to him never quite getting the rest he needed. You stifled your giggles at the roaring snores as you walked between the house and the car. It didn’t matter if you struggled with any of the boxes, you’d rather kick the bucket than disturb him out of any semblance of peace for the first time since you left.

So with the last of your few belongings piled in the living room, you made your way over to the passenger seat, opening it slowly as to not have him tumbling out.

You shook him gently, bringing one of your hands to brush his hair out of his face as he began to stir. “Tommy? Wake up, sweetheart. We’re here.”

His eyes fluttered open before he sat up a little quickly, reality crashing back down on him. He made a small grunt in panic before quickly easing again into your touch, although you could still tell how tense he was.

You had well over two years to prepare for this, poor Tommy would need time to adjust.

“Hey, I gotcha.” You smiled and gave him a tug which caused him to huff and give you a small mischievous smile. Rolling your eyes and dramatically groaning as you pretended to pull him out of the seat, you whined a little, “Argh— C’mon you gotta help me out a little!” Thomas let out a rumble, the closest thing to a chuckle he seemed to manage at the moment, and ducked as he exited the car. You grabbed his mask off the dash and offered it to him which he gratefully accepted.

It was endearing to see the way he clutched onto his mother’s quilt as he shuffled up to the house. You walked next to him after shutting the doors and trunk, keeping a hand on his back afterward as he surveyed the surroundings. It wasn’t hard to see the nervousness on his face when he caught sight of the houses that peeked through the trees. He looked to you for some sort of reassurance which you happily gave in the form of a gentle kiss to his shoulder and a small pat on his back.

“It’s okay. They’re all far away enough and I don’t think anyone is gonna bother us much.”

He turned to look at the car, then to the house, then back at you.

You shook your head. “I already moved everything. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Thomas frowned a little and hummed in displeasure.

“Yeah yeah, you can scold me later, okay? ‘M tired and I’m willing to bet you are too. Let’s go look inside.”

He couldn’t disagree there, yawning a little as if to confirm your suspicions.

The hour or so spent getting settled was, well, odd. You were already well acclimated to your new home but Tommy seemed to be still accepting everything. While anyone could say you had become legendary at reading the man, you couldn’t begin to follow his train of thought right then. He’d gone from losing his mother to moving four hours across the state, more than he’d ever thought possible in this lifetime.

So you started small. Convincing him to leave the majority of unpacking for the morning and deciding to start job hunting in a couple of days as to not leave him alone first thing tomorrow morning.

You pulled out some lunch meat of the non-human variety you had stored in a cooler Hoyt had pulled out of some victim’s van, among other small condiments to make you both some sandwiches while Thomas went to enjoy a bath.

After making a small grocery list to attend to tomorrow, you left ‘dinner’, truthfully closer to breakfast at this hour, on small plates and went to join him. You both sorta fit in the small tub but neither of you minded the squeeze. Washing him off best you could while making a mental note to add extra-large towels to the list in hope of finding a cloth big enough to wrap around your lover comfortably.

Long after the water had run cold and you felt content with the number of kisses you showered him in, you both dried off and got dressed for bed. You ate in silence, for the most part, not wanting to unload all your plans for the upcoming days on him as his eyes drooped with every other bite. He was reclined a little too happily on the old couch with you situated in his lap. His free hand rubbed circles on your hip as you attempted to finish your own food before you passed out on him.

“Ready for bed there, sleepyhead?”

He nodded and smiled lazily with his cheeks full and a few breadcrumbs on his mouth.

You stood and waited for him to get to his feet before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom, shutting the door before climbing onto the bed with him.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him.

You allowed your body to move however he wished, curling yourself around his large frame as much as possible. It wasn’t uncommon for you to cradle him to the best of your ability at night. Normally, however, he felt the need to shield you from whatever nightmares he worried could steal you from him in his sleep.

Tonight was different though. Tonight Thomas needed to feel safe, to feel comforted and cared for and loved. He needed to know he wasn’t alone in these new surroundings.

So that’s what you did. You snaked your arms loosely around his neck as he pulled you higher to be slightly situated above him. He looked up to you, the moonlight from outside just barely catching the tears in his eyes, but before you could say anything he spoke quietly.

“I love you.”

Your lip trembled as you took in his confession. One you had only heard a handful of times. You kissed him softly, your lips moving together slowly and tiredly for a while. Despite wanting nothing more than to never have your lips leave his, you pulled back to whisper, needing him to hear you before sleep took you both.

“I love you too, Thomas.”

[choyboxx]

×VSC×

Ahhhhh hello!!

I was wondering if I could request something for Thomas Hewitt? (Gender neutral reader ofc)

Perhaps after years of being with his s/o they just kinda- run away together? They pack some stuff in the middle of the night and take a working car with gas before driving to a house far away that his s/o had prepared to call home with him?

Just getting him away from the bad life he was put into and allowing him to start a new one in a much nicer environment. (Not a city ofc because I myself despise cities and I bet he would too)

Ahhh sorry it's so long!! If it makes you uncomfortable or you don't feel motivated to write it just let me know!! I don't mind!!

×Vexelier×

Me & You

Thomas Hewitt x GN!Reader

— Summary: After the passing of Luda Mae, you finish what she had started and give you and Thomas both a new start.

— CW/TW: explicit language, fluff, maybe angst if you squint, major character death (Mama Luda), loss mentioned, confessions of love, giving this boy all the love I can, I think that's it

— Word Count: 3.2k ish

— A/N: So sorry this took so long! I was really struggling with how I wanted this to go and I hope this did your idea justice! It was so much fun oml. Also the first time I've really written for this big man so I hope I did him justice as well. Sorta proofread, all mistakes are mine. Enjoy and thank you sm for the request!

You find yourself wondering late nights just how you’d got to this point in life. The simple answer could be that death trap you called a car four years ago, considering it’s the reason you landed in the grasp of the Hewitt family. Maybe it was all the things that caused you to go looking for a new life. A part of you liked to entertain the idea of some twisted butterfly effect where one small interaction years and years ago landed you here. The other half of you that grew tired of making sense of life simply wanted to call it fate.

Regardless of whatever it was, an invisible force or happenstance, it had come to learn you are a determined little shit. Not for your sake, but for his.

Thomas Hewitt had been the reason you avoided that table in the basement, but not the cause. Luda Mae had always wanted a happy ending for her boy, something far from where they found themselves when you fell into their laps. Call it old intuition or simple desperation, but Luda saw you as her last hope for her boy. She announced you as off-limits, struck a deal that bargained your life, and called it a day. The others were never given any insight as to what she had said to you in the room that shortly became yours nor would you ever share.

Even four years later, as you stood over her freshly decorated grave. You clutched onto her note, the equivalent to her will, and pressed your knuckle to your quivering lip. She had held up her end of the deal in her final days, leaving all details in the crinkling letter addressed to you. That night you would bury the hatchet and hold up your own.

True to your word, as the majority of the house settled in for the night you went to check on your getaway car. You packed light, taking only what you and Thomas needed including a few keepsakes from Luda that Thomas would appreciate having. It was all shoved into an old SUV you and Luda had kept under the illusion of you learning how to fix up cars for Hoyt’s sake. You took the wad of cash you earned selling prescription pills you found on victims and tucked it in the center console. Luda hadn’t been entirely impressed with your methods but wasn’t ignorant to Hoyt scavenging your paycheck from work like a vulture. You dig the note out of your pocket and fold it to show the small letter she addressed to Tommy.

Closing the driver’s door silently, you leaned against it with a deep inhale. It was now or never. Quickly, you rush to the house before making your way leisurely to your shared bedroom, noting Hoyt’s unconscious form on the couch.

Thomas sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his hair still somewhat kempt from the ‘funeral’ earlier in the day. Immediately his head snapped up at the sound of you entering and a whine escaped his throat, reaching for you instinctively. His eyes were bloodshot and his face caked with dried and fresh tears. A pang of guilt shook your chest before settling in your stomach. He needed you now more than ever but you’d been busy finishing what Luda started.

“Oh, Tommy…” You quickly walked into his arms, curling your own around his head to cradle it against you as you stood between his legs. He continued to let out broken sobs and groans, muffled by your clothed torso. His hands found the small of your back and he gripped onto the fabric tight enough that you worried it’d tear.

You remained like that for a few minutes, shushing him and kissing the top of his head when a particularly harsh sound would rip from his throat.

As he began to calm down he started to lay back onto the bed, pulling you with him. Planting your feet on the floor and resisting his pull you’d so often fall right into made him pause, scared and sad eyes looking up at you through wet lashes. Slowly you kneeled and took one of his hands, kissing his knuckles, up his arm, his shoulder, leaving a few nibbles on his neck and jaw, before giving a chaste kiss to his lips. You had his full attention now, his cheeks flushed from what you could see around the mask.

Your voice was hardly a whisper, almost competing with the AC down the hall Hoyt had purchased with your paycheck. “Sweetheart, do you trust me? I mean wholeheartedly trust me.”

He blinked then nodded quickly, his hair bobbing along.

You leaned closer and looked him straight in the eye. “Do you know that I love you? More than anyone and anything in this world? That Luda Mae did too?”

His lips quiver and he nods again, more subtle this time.

Slowly you reached in your pocket and offered him the note. He looked down at it and gave you a confused look before recognizing the writing. He took it with shaking hands and read quietly.

Out of respect, you hadn’t read what was meant for Thomas. You just hoped whatever she put would be enough to convenience him to leave with you.

Thomas’ face went unchanging as his eyes scanned the page. Then without warning he stood and walked over to the nightstand, pulling it open and searching frantically. You rushed over to his side and placed a hand on his arm, soothing him. “Shh, you have to be quiet Tommy. Everything we need is already packed. All I need now is you, Thomas.”

He looked at you with surprise and shook the letter in his hand, his voice rumbling in his chest. “Mama said help ya leave.”

It took a moment for you to collect yourself after hearing him speak. Even after years, you had come to learn while being fully capable of speech, Thomas was much more comfortable communicating, frankly, in any other way. Which was sometimes not at all.

You nodded and turned him to look at you, taking his face in your hands and brushing stray hairs out of his eyes. “With you Tommy. You can read what she wrote me while I drive okay?” You kissed his masked chin and took his hands. “We worked really hard for this. To give me and you a fresh start. We can leave, go to a place I’ve already rented, make it a home, make a whole new family if you want. Me and you, Tommy.” You looked into his eyes, attempting to pour every ounce of love into him. “I could never leave you here and I won’t stand for you to be used and mistreated anymore. Luda didn’t want this for you and neither do I. You deserve to be happy, sweetheart.”

The look in his eye could only be described by poets; someone with a lexicon larger than your own and even then would they struggle to capture the utter adoration and love that shone in his eyes. All of it was overshadowed by the overwhelming hope and desire to have a life like that with you.

Thomas leaned down and kissed you fervently, his arms slipping around you to lift you off the floor a little.

You hummed into the kiss and curled your arms around his neck, scratching gently at his scalp. If time would have waited for you, you would have happily stayed like that for the rest of your life. However, with your newfound confidence and reassurance to take your lover somewhere safe, you were ready to spring into action.

Both of you snuck hurriedly out of the house, allowing Tommy to take a detour to Luda’s grave for one last goodbye before making your way to your escape.

You situated Thomas as comfortably as you could in the passenger seat, covering him in one of Luda’s quilts to prepare for a long ride then running over to the driver’s side to climb in. You leaned over and gave him one last kiss before turning on the engine and pulling out like a bat out of hell.

For the first hour of the drive, Thomas kept looking behind the car in fear of seeing that damned cruiser. Not that you blamed him, you would be too if you hadn’t known that every tire on the property had been slashed but half an hour before your departure. You wanted to reassure him but a part of you felt it was better left unsaid, instead, you settled on comforting him every so often.

“It’s okay. He’s not coming. I’m not going to let another soul ever lay a finger on you. No one else gets to treat you like that again, not gonna be used anymore.” You attempted to keep a gentleness to your voice but you both could hear the anger that threatened to boil over at the thought of the years you witnessed Hoyt twist Thomas’ loyalty for his own benefit.

It distracted him momentarily, looking at you in awe and amusement. You were capable, that much had been proven during your stay in the Hewitt residence. Regardless, it gave Thomas an unfamiliar warm feeling when you’d stick up for him; someone left to fend for himself and used as a weapon by others. It was a feeling he’d decided that he wouldn’t mind experiencing more often.

Around the second hour, he began to doze. He took his mask off after a little encouragement to settle in for a nap. You reached over with your left hand to trace lazy shapes onto his scarred arm as he fought sleep to continue gazing at you lovingly.

You avoided taking your eyes off the road but stole quick glances at Thomas every once in a while.

“Tommy?”

He grabbed your hand and gave it a small squeeze, his way of responding.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart. Your eyes look like they’re a second away from rolling into the back of your head. I promise, no one’s gonna get us. No more killing or yelling or hurt, Tommy. I just said so, didn’t I? I’m gonna take care of you. Give you the life me and Luda worked so hard for.”

You slowly moved your hand to cup his face, almost getting whiplash from jerking your head toward his direction when you felt tears in your palm. “Tommy? Tommy, baby what’s wrong?”

You slowed the car, taking a quick glance to ensure the road was still empty for miles to come. He shook his head and made a noise of distress. You frowned and pulled off to the side of the road before throwing the car in park and leaning over the center console, wrapping as much of your upper half around Thomas as possible.

You kept your ear close to his face to listen, coaxing him to speak if even a little.

“Talk to me, Thomas, yeah? You don’t gotta say much, just tell me what’s got you upset.” You scrambled for a notepad and pen in the glovebox before he grabbed your hand to stop you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You heard him let out a quiet rumble, his words slurred. “‘M happy.”

Smiling big and pressing gentle kisses against his temple you whisper. “I am too. I’m happy with you.” You pulled away enough to look into his eyes, not missing the way he ducks his head in an attempt to hide his marred face. Chuckling softly you kissed his forehead and spoke softly. “I’ll let you get away with hiding that handsome face from me this time, okay? Get some sleep, we’ll be there in a little over an hour.”

Reluctantly, he let go of you and settled back into the seat that didn’t quite fit all of him. You pulled the quilt over him a little and smiled at the faint blush over his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

At the four-hour mark, you pulled into the driveway of a small two-bedroom house some lawyer had been dying to rent out. The place had character, certainly in need of a little love, but miles better than where you’d come from. It wasn’t entirely secluded either, unfortunately, but it had enough space to give you breathing room between your neighbors down the road. The big selling point was that it was partially furnished. Sure, you had managed to pay a couple of months in advance with rent and had enough to cover bills and groceries for one, but that didn’t mean you were well of enough to furnish the place.

With a content sigh, you exited the car, leaving the door open as to not startle Thomas, and began unloading as much as you could into the house without waking him.

He was a heavy sleeper, something you contributed to him never quite getting the rest he needed. You stifled your giggles at the roaring snores as you walked between the house and the car. It didn’t matter if you struggled with any of the boxes, you’d rather kick the bucket than disturb him out of any semblance of peace for the first time since you left.

So with the last of your few belongings piled in the living room, you made your way over to the passenger seat, opening it slowly as to not have him tumbling out.

You shook him gently, bringing one of your hands to brush his hair out of his face as he began to stir. “Tommy? Wake up, sweetheart. We’re here.”

His eyes fluttered open before he sat up a little quickly, reality crashing back down on him. He made a small grunt in panic before quickly easing again into your touch, although you could still tell how tense he was.

You had well over two years to prepare for this, poor Tommy would need time to adjust.

“Hey, I gotcha.” You smiled and gave him a tug which caused him to huff and give you a small mischievous smile. Rolling your eyes and dramatically groaning as you pretended to pull him out of the seat, you whined a little, “Argh— C’mon you gotta help me out a little!” Thomas let out a rumble, the closest thing to a chuckle he seemed to manage at the moment, and ducked as he exited the car. You grabbed his mask off the dash and offered it to him which he gratefully accepted.

It was endearing to see the way he clutched onto his mother’s quilt as he shuffled up to the house. You walked next to him after shutting the doors and trunk, keeping a hand on his back afterward as he surveyed the surroundings. It wasn’t hard to see the nervousness on his face when he caught sight of the houses that peeked through the trees. He looked to you for some sort of reassurance which you happily gave in the form of a gentle kiss to his shoulder and a small pat on his back.

“It’s okay. They’re all far away enough and I don’t think anyone is gonna bother us much.”

He turned to look at the car, then to the house, then back at you.

You shook your head. “I already moved everything. Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Thomas frowned a little and hummed in displeasure.

“Yeah yeah, you can scold me later, okay? ‘M tired and I’m willing to bet you are too. Let’s go look inside.”

He couldn’t disagree there, yawning a little as if to confirm your suspicions.

The hour or so spent getting settled was, well, odd. You were already well acclimated to your new home but Tommy seemed to be still accepting everything. While anyone could say you had become legendary at reading the man, you couldn’t begin to follow his train of thought right then. He’d gone from losing his mother to moving four hours across the state, more than he’d ever thought possible in this lifetime.

So you started small. Convincing him to leave the majority of unpacking for the morning and deciding to start job hunting in a couple of days as to not leave him alone first thing tomorrow morning.

You pulled out some lunch meat of the non-human variety you had stored in a cooler Hoyt had pulled out of some victim’s van, among other small condiments to make you both some sandwiches while Thomas went to enjoy a bath.

After making a small grocery list to attend to tomorrow, you left ‘dinner’, truthfully closer to breakfast at this hour, on small plates and went to join him. You both sorta fit in the small tub but neither of you minded the squeeze. Washing him off best you could while making a mental note to add extra-large towels to the list in hope of finding a cloth big enough to wrap around your lover comfortably.

Long after the water had run cold and you felt content with the number of kisses you showered him in, you both dried off and got dressed for bed. You ate in silence, for the most part, not wanting to unload all your plans for the upcoming days on him as his eyes drooped with every other bite. He was reclined a little too happily on the old couch with you situated in his lap. His free hand rubbed circles on your hip as you attempted to finish your own food before you passed out on him.

“Ready for bed there, sleepyhead?”

He nodded and smiled lazily with his cheeks full and a few breadcrumbs on his mouth.

You stood and waited for him to get to his feet before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom, shutting the door before climbing onto the bed with him.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him.

You allowed your body to move however he wished, curling yourself around his large frame as much as possible. It wasn’t uncommon for you to cradle him to the best of your ability at night. Normally, however, he felt the need to shield you from whatever nightmares he worried could steal you from him in his sleep.

Tonight was different though. Tonight Thomas needed to feel safe, to feel comforted and cared for and loved. He needed to know he wasn’t alone in these new surroundings.

So that’s what you did. You snaked your arms loosely around his neck as he pulled you higher to be slightly situated above him. He looked up to you, the moonlight from outside just barely catching the tears in his eyes, but before you could say anything he spoke quietly.

“I love you.”

Your lip trembled as you took in his confession. One you had only heard a handful of times. You kissed him softly, your lips moving together slowly and tiredly for a while. Despite wanting nothing more than to never have your lips leave his, you pulled back to whisper, needing him to hear you before sleep took you both.

“I love you too, Thomas.”

[choyboxx]

A letter from a creator who focuses on angst.

I would by no means call myself a writer. In another life, I absolutely could be. Where I applied myself in school and put any effort into understanding things like proper punctuation, grammar, gained a bigger dictionary as a whole. All of the above, truly. However, that’s not the case and I can’t claim that it is. Hell, I just started this not but a week or so ago.

What I can say is that I make a very strong attempt to put anything and everything I experience in life that troubles me into a fictional scenario so I can process it as a third party.

So, what does that mean for me as a creator? What can you expect to see from me? If I’m being completely transparent; nothing but a cess pool of angst and very real hurt. Does that mean I’ll never be able to write a happy ending? Not at all. I love to dream and I want nothing more than to write something better for myself into existence. I also adore the idea of giving others that happy ending and escape from whatever bullshit life has decided to throw at them.

“Choy, what’s your point?”

Phenomenal question. I don’t know exactly, but I suppose what I’m trying to get at is that I want each and every person that stumbles across my blog to take care. You, reading this right this moment. Regardless of your background, what you’re experiencing in the present time, and whatever life is sending your way; I want you to take care. What I write can be hard for some people.

This isn’t a pat on the back saying I’m just that good at pulling an emotional response from my readers. This is an acknowledgment that reading what I write can perpetuate a cycle if you’re currently in a situation I’m describing. I know this because I’m stuck writing about it.

You are so important as an individual and you deserve a good outlet for your emotions. If any of what I write can be that for you, I’m honored. Just please, heed warnings for angst and don’t let me be the one to put you in a rut.

To the person who had the guts to message me and vent to me regarding similar experiences, you’re seen. I hear you. My inbox is always open to anyone who may need company from someone who gets it.

Be good, be well, and take care.

[choyboxx]

How would thomas react to his SO taking the bones of the victims and attempting to give them a proper burial, like they wrap what’s left of them in their clothes and taking great care of them.

Thomas Hewitt With an S/O Who Attempts To Give a Victim a Proper Burial

I’m so sorry this took a while, Anon!😩You have no idea how much I loved this idea, omg. I hope you like it!!🖤

Taglist: @horrorstories123 @karman-loves-slashers @billylenzkinnie @nathalia-cobblepot @clearlynox

When the Hewitt’s first started eating…meat…Thomas was terribly hesitant about the new lifestyle he was forced to adjust to. Everything about the process; the chasing, the killing, the butchering.

It was definitely common sense to him that killing people was not ideal—especially being raised in such a religious and conservative environment. Right and wrong was always present.

As he continued to kill and butcher the meat however, it had become routine to him. It’s not that Thomas liked killing, but he didn’t particularly dislike it either. It just seemed like another chore. Another chore to do so he could make his family proud.

Meat is meat, bone is bone.

After all his time in the slaughterhouse, Thomas quickly got used to butchering human. He did his job; hunt, kill, and butcher. It was no different from the slaughterhouse.

(Except now he was burning a lot more calories with all the running. Hey, chasing people with a chainsaw is tiring!😩)

He had been terribly manipulated by Hoyt to think of these people as cattle, not humans. Cattle that only lived to be meat.

So, he had never thought of his victims having an actual burial,

Until you came along.

The first time Thomas witnessed you take the victim’s bones and clothes, he was confused. He didn’t know what you were going to do with the items, were you going to make something out of them?

“I’m going to bury them. They deserve a proper burial, don’t you think?” You told him, holding the bundle of bones wrapped in clothes close to your chest.

Thomas shrugged it off, just thinking of you trying to do something nice. But, when you left him alone in the basement, carrying the bundle upstairs and out to the field, only did he really think of what you were doing.

You were doing something so morally right in a household that was so deeply wrong.

In that moment, Thomas in a way ‘gained consciousness’ as to what he was doing. He wasn’t in the slaughterhouse cutting beef, no. He was in his basement slicing human flesh.

He hesitantly put the meat cleaver down, looking at the meat in disgust, and headed upstairs to find you.

He found you hand-digging a shallow hole about sixty feet away from the house. You dug with the garden shovel, holding the wrapped bones tightly between your elbow and side.

The way you looked made Thomas feel sick to his stomach—a look of pure determination on your face as you attempted to give someone who was so brutally murdered a proper burial.

Someone who Thomas so brutally murdered.

He walked over to you, his hands shaking out in front of him.

“Thomas? Are you okay?” You said, concerned about how unwell Tommy looked. He just gave you a hesitant glance in return, before dropping to his knees right next to you. You gave him a worried look as you gently took the bundle, placing it right in the grave. You took the garden shovel, softly moving the previously dug dirt right over the bones that once hosted a soul.

Thomas just watched you, thoughts running through his head.

How could you want to be around him? He was a murderer. He was a killer. He was a cannibal. How could an angel such as you want to be around him?

He snapped out of his thoughts as you wiped your hands on your pants, letting out a quiet ‘that’s better.’ You reached over, picking up a white quartz that stuck out of the ground. You placed it on top of the dirt pile, using it as a grave marker.

After a moment of just staring at your work, you leaned over and rested your head on Thomas’ shoulder, sighing. He immediately tensed under your touch, but then relaxed.

“I just feel like we owed it to them, you know? After everything,” you gestured to the grave, “I just think it’s the right thing to do.”

Thomas softly grunted, nodding. He thought so too, Y/N. He really did.

[choyboxx]

Porcelain Poems

Brahms Heelshire x GN!Reader

— Summary: After living (knowingly) with Brahms for almost a year, you truly come to believe Brahms is something straight out of one of his many love stories.

— CW/TW: explicit language, things get a lil spicy for a second, fluff, lots of fluff n love, confessions of love, angst briefly if you squint, cheesy reader

— Word Count: 2.3k

— A/N: Love this man and as much as I adore the idea of jumping straight into his arms I thrive off of slow burns and getting this man to sorta behave before giving him my soul. Sorta proofread sorta not. Hope you enjoy regardless!

You strolled leisurely back towards the house, dragging the toe of your boots occasionally to draw lines in the snow. Once a week near sunset you had begun taking small walks that only went short distances from the house. A ploy to hopefully one day tempt Brahms to join you. However, even he had enough sense not to go marching through a few inches of snow at almost six in the evening.

As the sun set blindly behind the heavy gray clouds you looked up toward the balcony. Admiring the few lights you’d convinced Brahms to help you put up. They twinkled against the light snowfall and as you squinted, noticed they illuminated the silhouette of a familiar tall figure bundled in heavy blankets.

Despite the chill that threatened to seep into your bones with each light breeze and every small pin-prick of snow landing on your cheeks; your heart melted at the sight. Almost without thought, you quickened your pace to get a better look at him.

With each brisk step, you wondered if he could see just how much your smile lit up every time he’d grace you with his presence so spontaneously.

Caring for Brahms, the real Brahms, was a chore at times. Especially early on before you had established any sort of boundaries and all he knew was what his parents had allowed. Some days it could still resemble the nanny job it originated as, not that it upset you. Old habits die hard, you were just happy over the progress he’d been willing to make.

Almost nine months in, it was simply a routine between two individuals. Typically casual with regular undertones of love and adoration. You had come to know Brahms Heelshire as he came to know you, and yet you wondered how he still didn’t see just how you’d fallen for him. For someone so painfully observant you were sure he simply remained ignorant out of choice. Whether specifically due to disbelief or another game of his, you weren’t sure.

You stopped a little ways away from the base of the wall, still gazing at Brahms as he lingered near the banister. He seemed to all but hiss after leaning a little too close and brushing against the line of snow that trailed the decorated railings.

As silly as his jerky mannerisms were, he truly looked angelic.

His soft curls seemed to attract every falling snowflake in a five-foot radius. Despite his large cloak of blankets, you could see his large albeit slightly shivering frame. His breath slowly huffed out the jaw of his mask with every slow exhale. The fog would catch the lights and make a halo effect.

Brahms tilted his head and braved the cold to stick a hand out from under his wooly protection to beckon you. You could just barely make out his soft grumble over the wind.

“Come on. I want to go inside.”

You remained stationary, admiring him as something brewed in the back of your mind. Your thoughts suddenly escaped to Brahms’ studies that had quickly become your studies.

You swore he huffed with a pout as that mischievous glint grew in your eye.

With a slow and dramatic outstretch of your hand, you bowed momentarily before calling out just loud enough to be heard clearly,

“O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o’er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven.”

With a proud yet goofy smile, you looked back up to him. The first thing that caught your eye was his own, blown big as the moon. The halo-like fog was in abundance as he breathed heavier. You had never seen his face but you knew the telltale signs of a flustered Brahms. 

You shrugged a little and raised your eyebrows questioningly. “Did I get it right? You know I’m not as well-versed as you.”

Brahms continued to stare at you for a moment before flinching hard, realizing you asked a question. Instead of answering, however, he simply turned on his heel and began to rush towards the doors, bellowing out a demand over his shoulder.

“Inside. Now!”

You frowned a little, giving yourself a little mental scolding for perhaps ruining an otherwise lovely day. It had been a while since he had a tantrum and you’d had plans to keep it that way. With a sigh, your feet carried you around to the front door, knocking off most of the snow before stepping inside and taking off some of your multiple layers.

You went further into the house, calling out, “Brahms?”

You heard the thundering of footsteps as he rushed down the steps, not stopping until he came just a few inches from you.

His fists were balled tightly and shaking, his voice at a tone you had typically come to regret hearing, “Why would you say that?”

His eyes were dark as he stared into your very being. “Were you mocking me?!” You witnessed then, him fighting those old habits and battling his default to become harsh and violent.

You kept your voice steady and slowly lifted your hands to show you meant no harm. A stance you’d taken a few times before to diffuse a situation, and one Brahms had come to see as a sign of submission. “No, Brahms.” Your brows furrowed and you looked almost hurt at the suggestion. “I’ve never mocked you, sweet boy. Why would I start now?”

A shiver ran through his body at the endearment. Brahms’ breathing steadied over what felt like an eternity of silence yet continued to be slightly ragged.

You turned over your hands and held them out, gesturing for his own. Slowly, but like clockwork, he raised his shaking hands and rested then gently in yours. You gave a gentle squeeze and rubbed soft circles on the backs and knuckles. Seeing that familiar look of adoration and maybe even hope bloom in his eyes gifted you a surge of confidence.

While maintaining eye contact, you leaned upward, your nose gently nudging his as you whisper, “I was just trying to be silly but I meant it. You looked like something your books would describe, Brahms.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks with your confession out in the open, opting to close your eyes to avoid seeing any possible negative reaction.

Running your hands up his arms, skimming lightly over his bare neck, you allowed them to find refuge in his dark curls on the back of his head. Brahms shivered at the touch of the cold that still lingered on your fingers but you wondered if it was for any other reason. A thought arose, making you worry it could be out of discomfort. Neither of you had ever been so intimate with one another since his early advances shortly after revealing himself to you. Nothing more than occasional touches that lingered and, of course, his kiss goodnight. So you murmured against his cold cheek, an ache in your chest growing at the idea of him no longer wanting this from you, “Tell me to stop and I will.”

You felt his hands rush to grip your sides, squeezing tightly. Ridding any space between the two of you as he pulled your body flush against his and shook his head just enough for you to feel the movement against your face. Smiling, you nudged his nose gently once more before pressing a kiss to his porcelain lips. You felt him press back against you, his breathing becoming sporadic again and his hands flexing restlessly on your waist.

A minute passed of pressing more small kisses against his lips and cheeks. His grip was encouraging you to be bolder, trailing down to kiss the edge of the mask and letting your lips graze his jaw.

You wanted to show him that you loved him. Hell, you wanted to tell him. You needed him to know that this, him, the house, all of it, is something you desired just as badly as he did. He wasn’t a job or your employer or someone to take pity on. Brahms Heelshire held your heart and owned your soul long before you met. Fate may or may not have been something you believed in but he was more proof you ever could ever ask for in order to trust in something greater than yourself.

Maybe it was a skill honed over the years of manipulating innocent nannies. Perhaps it was something to do with that ‘good breeding’ that wealthy families like his had a habit of producing. All the books and literature he had been showing you may have taught him something you never had the privilege of learning so early on.

It didn’t matter. How unhealthy or unwarranted your utter devotion to the man that you stood tangled with didn’t mean a thing to you.

All you cared for was how you felt one hand leave your side and come in between the two of you, his face parting with yours before finally having his warm lips against yours.

You hummed against his lips while pulling him closer, your fingers tugging softly at his hair. It didn’t occur to you to open your eyes, too wrapped up in complete bliss.

Brahms, on the other hand, was a mess. Going between whimpering and growling as he backed you against the nearest wall. The moment your back hit the wooden surface and your hands tugged harder in response, he moaned loudly and pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

“Brahms…”

He stilled, his chest heaving and your breaths being the only noise to compete with the howling wind outside.

“Can I see you?” You licked your lips nervously and opened your eyes before leaving small kisses and even a nibble on his exposed collarbone, hoping to ease his nerves.

He whined and brought his lips to your ear. His breath was hot against your skin and tickled as he growled, “Promise you’ll never leave.”

You nodded eagerly, squeezing him tight. “I promise Brahms, I’ll never leave. I’m yours.” He pushed himself entirely against you and groaned as his head dropped back into your shoulder. His entire body was shaking with the amount of self-restraint he was using.

“Again. Say it again.”

You felt light as a feather, mindlessly absorbing every inch of him in every way you could possibly manage. “I’m yours. I’m entirely yours and I’d never dream of leaving you.” You nudged him gently, not wanting to be an inch from you but wanting so desperately to see him. Brahms moved willingly with your touch but still refused to bring his face from the shelter of your neck.

It was obvious any insecurities or hesitation were ebbing away with every word but he needed a push.

“I want to see the man that plagues my mind every time you make me read those sappy poems and stories.” You leaned your head back against the wall and turned it slightly to almost speak against his ear. “Want to see the man I fell in love with.”

With that, his head shot up and for the first time in almost a year, you saw him.

You suspected the first thing you’d notice would be his scars but truthfully it wasn’t. It was his surprised eyes that you finally could admire without them being shrouded in the shadow of his mask. They were a green with streaks of brown, his right eye having a red crest hugging his iris. Then you saw the scars that framed that eye, letting your eyes follow the twisted tissue over his eye that ate away at his brow and back down his cheekbone and jaw. Stopping there to admire his somewhat tidy beard.

You’d have to compliment how good he’d gotten at trimming his beard.

Flicking your eyes back up you took in his appearance on his unmarred side. He was breathtaking, absolutely gorgeous. You even caught a glimpse of a small patch of white hair on his left side above his brow.

You wished at times like this that you paid a little more attention during studies to have had the words to tell him just how beautiful he was.

Brahms couldn’t be bothered by your staring, however, with his mouth still parted slightly in shock. What brought him back was your hands moving from the back of his head to his cheeks, quickly leaning up to give him a brief yet bruising kiss.

He grinned, showing off a lethal smile that truly threatened to end your life right there.

“Do you mean it?” His smile fell slowly and his voice became quieter, “Even still? With… With this?” He looked to his right, gesturing also with a head tilt and a shrug of his right shoulder.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. “Brahms, I loved you as you stood over my bed at three in the morning wearing a porcelain mask. So I think I can happily continue to love you, especially after getting to see this handsome face.”

He huffed a laugh as his cheeks turned a bright red. Not pausing your assault, you continued whispering sweet nothings against his jaw, your eyes looking up to him with complete reverence. Finally, he leaned over to give you another kiss, much more hesitant and shy this time around. Not pulling his lips from yours to murmur, “I love you.”

You hummed in response and gave his cheeks a gentle squeeze. Your heart truly felt as if it were overflowing, but something else in you wanted the side of him you witnessed but five minutes ago. Nipping at his bottom lip and pulling a growl from him you looked up into his eyes with another mischievous glint appearing again in your own.

“Maybe after dinner, you can show me just how much.”

His jaw clenched before grabbing your wrist and dragging you towards the stairs.

You halfheartedly attempted to pull against him but your head was swimming with excitement. “Brahms, what about the rules? I need to make dinner.”

He sent you another grin over his shoulder, his voice low, “New rule.”

[choyboxx]

This is where that apology I was talking about comes in huh

Lmaoo but truly this is the best compliment I could’ve gotten for this sad ass mess, I wish for nothing but your speedy recovery. V sorry for my actions

Change

Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

— Summary: Bucky, your ex, comes by for the last of his things you hung onto over a year after he moved out. He has the nerve to give you outdated apologies and you finally confront him on the downfall of your relationship.

— CW/TW: Takes place a little after FATWS, don’t look at the timeline too hard, so much angst, no comfort, explicit language, Bucky fucked up, you’re rightfully angry, self-doubt and lack of self-worth on the reader’s side, no violence towards one another but reader physically assaults their couch, reader on couch violence, this is NOT a cheating fic

— Word Count: 1.3k

— A/N: This is completely a vent piece. Extremely cathartic for me to write, again, this is going to be a theme with the exceptions of some requests I’m working on. Bucky gets very little dialogue, truly it’s something for those who left far too much unsaid with past lovers. I didn’t really proof read this, so you’re getting it as is. And finally! The song I had on repeat the ENTIRE time writing this. Hence the title. I’d say enjoy but I feel an apology would probably be more appropriate.

You stood at the kitchen counter, hunched over with your elbows propped up and arms loosely crossed. You couldn’t be bothered to hide the scowl on your face as he walked back through the kitchen and into the living room. He only met your gaze through the open bar after sorting through the box of things he’d forgotten.

He ducked his head and swallowed, nodding a little as he mumbled, “I appreciate you letting me stop by so long after… y’know.”

Keep reading

[choyboxx]

Change

Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

— Summary: Bucky, your ex, comes by for the last of his things you hung onto over a year after he moved out. He has the nerve to give you outdated apologies and you finally confront him on the downfall of your relationship.

— CW/TW: Takes place a little after FATWS, don’t look at the timeline too hard, so much angst, no comfort, explicit language, Bucky fucked up, you’re rightfully angry, self-doubt and lack of self-worth on the reader’s side, no violence towards one another but reader physically assaults their couch, reader on couch violence, this is NOT a cheating fic

— Word Count: 1.3k

— A/N: This is completely a vent piece. Extremely cathartic for me to write, again, this is going to be a theme with the exceptions of some requests I’m working on. Bucky gets very little dialogue, truly it’s something for those who left far too much unsaid with past lovers. I didn’t really proof read this, so you’re getting it as is. And finally! The song I had on repeat the ENTIRE time writing this. Hence the title. I’d say enjoy but I feel an apology would probably be more appropriate.

You stood at the kitchen counter, hunched over with your elbows propped up and arms loosely crossed. You couldn’t be bothered to hide the scowl on your face as he walked back through the kitchen and into the living room. He only met your gaze through the open bar after sorting through the box of things he’d forgotten.

He ducked his head and swallowed, nodding a little as he mumbled, “I appreciate you letting me stop by so long after… y’know.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head at his audacity. “Yeah, I’m glad you finally appreciate something.”

His body flinched at the retort, hunkering over to make himself smaller. He licked his lips then opened his mouth as if to say something, anything, before promptly shutting it again. Clenching his jaw and sighing through his nose.

Your brows pinched as you ground your teeth in an attempt to fight back every harsh word that fought tooth and nail to tear into his very being. Every second he continued to stand in your living room made it more and more difficult to have any restraint.

“What are you doing, Bucky? If you have something to say then say it. Unless more than four years of my life weren’t enough for you to have wasted away already. Then again you have a history of crawling back to things with history, don’t you?”

The look in his eye would have shaken you to your core years ago. Once upon a time, you revolved around James Buchanan Barnes and even the concept of being harsh towards him never occurred to you. You’d even dare to say it would have felt repulsive. However, that was then. The comparison between the man you’d found on the run during your internship in Romania and the one that stood in your living room was night and day.

Perhaps you should’ve known better. It wasn’t that you missed the signs, the changes, the growth, the new direction in life that no longer involved you. You remained steady despite the noticeable decline in his interest in you. You never wavered in face of every other-worldly challenge that came with loving him. You remained helpless as the weight of your relationship rested solely on your shoulders because he found solace somewhere else.

You continued to be tormented and he had long since found acceptance.

The seemingly never-ending well of patience you once had was dried up and the shine in your eyes now resembled that of jagged glass. You were tired. Angry. Hurt. All interchangeable at any given moment and for what felt like the first time, Bucky saw it.

He found the nerve to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You, on the other hand, lost yours.

Without missing a beat you rushed around the counter and pointed at him, your other hand clenched in a shaking fist.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don’t give me that. You don’t get to be sorry all of a sudden. I’m not one of your goddamn names to make amends with! You don’t have the excuse that you had no control over what you did, because last I checked you were well aware every step of the way.” You marched up to him, poking his chest and glaring into his startled eyes. “You simply didn’t care.”

He took a step back as if your touch was a hot iron, shaking his head and stumbling over his words. “I-I did. I did care! Things— things changed and—”

A growl tore from your throat and you bellowed, drowning his attempt to speak, “NO! You’re a goddamn liar, Barnes!” You jabbed your finger into your chest, hunching over and practically snarling at him. “I gave you everything! I invested all of me into you! My family and I took you in despite everything! I ran from the law!” You took a few breaths before hissing through bared teeth, “I abandoned all of my dreams, my aspirations, my plans. Everything!”

Your heart felt like it was either going to burst or simply stop altogether. His face became obscured as your vision grew blurry with tears that you prayed would take every thought inside your head with them.

Bucky remained speechless and you couldn’t be bothered to analyze every detail to read him like you used to. Instead, you began to gesture wildly at him as your voice cracked and broke in rage.

“And don’t give me that bullshit that you never asked me to because you didn’t have to! I did it all because I cared. So I gave with no expectation. All I ever wanted was to love you and be loved by you and you know what? You gave me that. You gave me that until you were wanted by someone else. You used me like a fucking stepping-stone and the moment Steve came back you were gone! Your side of the bed was empty more than you were in it. You kissed me like it was a chore. You hugged me like I was a stranger. You spoke to me as if it killed you to hear about my day!” You were pacing now, only jerking your head up to glare at him and stare down at your hands like you would magically find some answer as to what was wrong with you.

Desperate to know what you didn’t have.

“You had nothing! No one! You found family, love, some sense of peace, and stability with me! You said it your—” You slammed your fist on the sofa nearby, hearing the wooden frame underneath the cushions make a soft cracking noise, “—fucking self! And I never realized how easy it was to just take that for granted! To discard it like it was nothing! Now, look at you! Steve left and Sam’s all you have!”

It went unnoticed as he had placed his box of belongings on the table but you did notice as he began to approach you.

You threw your hand up and pointed at him once more with a trembling hand, causing him to pause mid-step and raise his hands. Either in defense or to show a lack of malice, you didn’t know. Even you didn’t recognize your own voice anymore as it dropped low, “YOU changed, Barnes.”

After harshly wiping your eyes with the back of your hands and looking back up to him, you saw his own tears trickling down his jaw and falling off his trembling chin.

A whine escaped your throat and you collapsed back onto the couch, holding your feverish face in your hands and curling into yourself as a muffled sob fell between your fingers.

“So why do I still love you? Why do I still hurt when you hurt? How can I function when I’m so tied in between wishing you to never find peace with anyone else and knowing a part of me is happy to hear second-hand that you’re doing okay?”

You looked up to him suddenly, catching him only a couple feet away with a hand reached out, “I haven’t been with anyone since because I look for parts of you in them. I look for the part of me I gave you.” You grab his hand in a vice-like grip, him taking your one in both of his as you whispered, “You can take all of your things back. You can have anything you want. Just please—” You look up to him in desperation, pleading as you slide off the couch onto your knees and rest your head against your joined hands. “—please give me back whatever piece of me that you still have.”

He drops to his knees and wraps an arm around you, you can feel his wet cheek against your temple as your hand trembles with the grip you still have on his one hand. His sobs and your quiet wails become indistinguishable.

“Please.”

[choyboxx]

Choy’s Requests

(OPEN)

Thank you for considering me to bring an idea of yours to life! You are free to make as many requests as you’d like if they’re open. Honestly, you can send an ask just to say hi, that’s totally cool too. This is a no-judgment zone within reason! The worst that can happen is that I just don’t do it if I don’t feel I couldn’t do your request justice.

View the list below the cut!

The list of characters and fandoms I will write for:

(Characters marked with * are ones I have written before / very comfortable writing! Don’t see your favs? Ask anyway! If I like the request I’ll put in research to do your baby justice!)

Marvel

Bucky Barnes *

Sam Wilson

Steve Rodgers

Matt Murdock

Slashers

Brahms Heelshire *

Bo Sinclair *

Vincent Sinclair *

Lester Sinclair

Thomas Hewitt

Billy Lenz

Misc

Lee Bodecker *

Lance Tucker

Ransom Drysdale

Ivar Lothbrok

[choyboxx]

About Choy

Helloo! I’m Choy, a 21yo individual who has a type and it reflects in my writings. I go by they/them preferably but any pronouns are okay. I’m very new to actually using Tumblr so please be patient with me oml. Feel free to message me whenever for whatever! I’d love to chat!

About My Writing:

I will only be posting x reader for now and will stick to gender-neutral unless requested or it was a part of the original idea. I’ll mostly stick to second person but as some of my work is related to personal experiences there will be ones that are in first. I’d like to think I write okay but please keep in mind I only do this in my spare time! All mistakes are my own and I’m always open to critique!

On with the show!

Masterlist (pending)

Got an idea?

Send a Request!

[choyboxx]

Hi me again! (Feel free to tell me to stop requesting so much) Could you do something where y/n tells the twins they love them for the first time?

Hope you’re doing well :)

You Gave My Heart A Home

Sinclair Brothers x GN S/O

Warnings: None :)

More fluff because I live for this shit, lol.

You polished off the last of your plate with one last bite, setting your silverware onto the empty dish with a sigh of content. Your eyes drawn to Lester as the man worked on inhaling his third helping, pausing when he noticed your bewildered stare. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve once he finished chewing, aiming a warm smile at you.

“Good?” You teased and Lester nodded, happily tucking back in with a pleased hum. You rolled your eyes fondly, gaze sliding over to Vincent to see him half-heartedly poking at his own food. While the masked man wasn’t a picky eater, he usually got distracted by his thoughts for so long that his food went cold.

You stretched your leg out, tapping your toes against Vincent’s leg to get his attention. The unmasked man’s head came up from his aimless staring at the tablecloth, giving you a questioning look. You wordlessly nodded at his plate, Vincent’s lone blue eye followed your pointed gesture and blinked.

His gaze slid back to you as he took a bite, chewing slowly. You smiled encouragingly and Vincent’s next mouthful was consumed with less reluctance, the unmasked man occasionally glancing up at you as he steadily emptied his plate. You grinned proudly at him each time your gazes locked, Vincent’s face flushing before he ducked his head.

“Dinner was delicious, as usual.” You pipe in, turning your attention to Bo, who was busy stuffing sustenance down his throat. He grunted, swallowing such a large mouthful that it looked painful in order to respond. “Flattery won’t get out of dish duty, Y/n.” He grumbled, but his face was colored a light pick at the compliment.

“I wasn’t trying to avoid it. Just telling you that I liked dinner.” You shrug, fiddling with your cloth napkin while you wait for one of the brothers to finish. It was usually Vincent, and tonight was no different. He wiped his face before grabbing his mask, situating it back onto his face before he stood.

You followed his example, trailing Vincent into the kitchen. He set his silverware and plate into the sink, stepping away to give you room to work. You filled up the left sink with hot soapy water and the right one with just lukewarm water. You started on both your and Vincent’s plates, scrubbing the residue from the meal off the ceramic.

To your pleasant surprise, Vincent grabbed a cloth out of a nearby drawer and held his free hand out to take the plate once you had cleaned it. He rinsed and dried the dish before putting it away, gracefully rejoining you at the sink to grab the second plate to repeat the process.

“Thanks for the help.” You murmur and the masked man nodded, pausing his wiping to affectionately pat your head with a damp hand before resuming his task. Bo sauntered into the kitchen, raising a brow when he saw you and his twin quietly working together to wash the dishes that the eldest Sinclair used to make dinner.

When Bo cheekily deposited his empty plate and dirty silverware into the sink, Lester bounded into the room with his own dishes. He carelessly dropped them all into the sink with a splash, both you and Bo jumping back in order to avoid the resulting wave of sudsy water that spilled onto the floor.

“S’rry, sweetpea. My bad.” Lester chuckled, pressing a hasty -but no less adoring- kiss to the crown of your head. “A’ight, ‘m headin’ out. See ya, Y/n.” The youngest Sinclair announced as he spun on his heel, heading back into the dining room to fetch his hat. “Bye Lester, love you.” You called over your shoulder.

“Love ya too!” Lester cheerily returned the sentiment, the distinct click of the front door indicating that he had exited the house. Your focus shifted back to your task, extending a pan for Vincent to take. The seconds ticked by without any movement from the masked man, your head turning to see what was going on with your helper.

“...what?” You haltingly asked when you found the twins staring at you with an intensity that made the hair on the back of your neck prickle, mentally going over the last few minutes in an attempt to figure out what had spooked them. Your mind screeched to a halt on your interaction with Lester, brows furrowing.

“I do love you guys, you know.” You lowered your arm, setting the pan into the right sink. Vincent twitched at your words while Bo made a face, but both of them appeared highly dubious. “You’re lyin’.” Bo sneered and your heart ached because clearly neither twin believed themselves capable of being loved.

“I’ll lie forever then.” You declare, holding Bo’s gaze with an unmovable conviction that actually gave the man pause. Bo’s severe expression morphed into a dizzying mix of surprise and confusion. “You’re so fuckin’ strange, you know that right?” There was no bite to Bo’s words, the man sounding more baffled than anything.

“I would certainly hope so. My strangeness is what saved my life, not to mention that it gave me the rare opportunity to have a family.” You shrug, jolting when sweater-clad arms wrapped around your waist. Vincent rumbling happily like some kind of overgrown cat, his hair tickling your ear as he embraced you.

“I thought you two knew. Which was an oversight on my part, I guess.” You reached up to card wet fingers through those silky locks, delighting in how Vincent just melted against you, like always. “I love you both.” You hum, gaze flicking to the hand that you had on Vincent’s back when Bo took it in his own.

“Say it again.” Bo mumbled, raising your hand to press a sweet kiss against your knuckles. “I love you.” You smile when the man shivers, pressing his forehead against the back of your hand with a shuddering exhale. “Again.” He demanded and you obliged without hesitation, more than willing to let him hear the words as many times as he needed.

[choyboxx]

OMG I may just be slightly dying over the fact you liked this. I adore your work oml. thank you sm for the sweet compliments!! I’m nothing if not an absolute fool for those who haven’t earned it so it was really cathartic writing this. It means the world so many of you enjoy it and recognize the situation that’s playing out 😩🥺🥺♥️♥️

It’s Called: Freefall

Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

— Summary: Four months after your departure from Ambrose, Bo reaches out in an attempt to make amends.

— CW/TW: Explicit language, drinking, drunk Bo, Bo is his own warning tbh, typical Bo behavior, mentions of verbal threats(?), Bo was an ass I really don’t know what else to say about it, angst, reverse comfort

— Word Count: 2.8k ish

— A/N: I needed some soft Bo and to call myself out on being far too forgiving and catering to this emotionally unavailable man. This is totally open for a part 2 and I will happily make two versions, one for more soft Bo n reuniting with the boys and another where Bo is still a manipulative ass. Just lemme know what you’d like to see! Here is the song I had on repeat the entire time while writing this, hence the title. Also no, you’re not allowed to comment on the fact my first post isn’t Bucky related. Enjoy!

You watched him silently, not dropping eye contact aside from quick glances to his fidgeting hands and subtle grimaces.

The bar you sat in was a testament to just how desperate he was to see you again. He knew asking you to visit him back in Ambrose would’ve been shot down in an instant. Despite his discomfort of handling his current predicament publicly, he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Keep reading

[choyboxx]

Made a drawing for @aggravatetheaxe just bc their user is just so good for no reason. Also now that I’ve made my first post n I’m not an empty blog anymore I can publicly gush over their and everyone else’s work. 😫😫

I’m so glad you like it! <3

[choyboxx]

It’s Called: Freefall

Bo Sinclair x GN!Reader

— Summary: Four months after your departure from Ambrose, Bo reaches out in an attempt to make amends.

— CW/TW: Explicit language, drinking, drunk Bo, Bo is his own warning tbh, typical Bo behavior, mentions of verbal threats(?), Bo was an ass I really don’t know what else to say about it, angst, reverse comfort

— Word Count: 2.8k ish

— A/N: I needed some soft Bo and to call myself out on being far too forgiving and catering to this emotionally unavailable man. This is totally open for a part 2 and I will happily make two versions, one for more soft Bo n reuniting with the boys and another where Bo is still a manipulative ass. Just lemme know what you’d like to see! Here is the song I had on repeat the entire time while writing this, hence the title. Also no, you’re not allowed to comment on the fact my first post isn’t Bucky related. Enjoy!

You watched him silently, not dropping eye contact aside from quick glances to his fidgeting hands and subtle grimaces.

The bar you sat in was a testament to just how desperate he was to see you again. He knew asking you to visit him back in Ambrose would’ve been shot down in an instant. Despite his discomfort of handling his current predicament publicly, he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You took a deep breath as he downed the rest of his third drink. A part of you wanted to urge him to spill whatever he had to say but you knew pushing Bo in a time like this, a vulnerable moment, would cause him to clam up immediately. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested. This was miles more effort than he had put towards you and whatever it was you two had before the split.

You let out a quiet sigh and swirled your own glass quietly, finally taking your eyes off of him.

A couple more moments passed until you heard him shift on the old booth seat.

“How’s the job?”

You nodded a little and gave a little shrug. “It’s okay. Still workin’ to land somethin’ in my dream career,” you waved your fingers on one hand a little and gave a sad chuckle, “but it pays well considerin’. If I was smart, I'd probably just stick with this and work my way up, but y’know how I am.”

He huffed a little and settled back into the faux leather behind him, still tense as ever. “Yeah, I know.”

You waited a moment and dared to steal another glance to see how he was holding up. His eyes didn’t meet yours, too busy fiddling with his sleeves and an oil stain on his hand.

“How’s the town?”

His movements paused for a split second. “Th’usual. We get stragglers here ‘n there with holidays comin’ up.”

You nodded again, unsure if this was really the direction he wanted to take this. Bo hated small talk but he was taking too long to get to the point.

You watched as he ordered another drink and silence ensued. Two drinks later and ten more minutes of pointless back and forth. By the end of it, the tips of his ears were flushed and his eyes had become hazed over.

You were still trying to figure out what his game was, then you noticed how he’d relaxed a little with the booze in his system. Then it clicked.

Whatever it was he wanted to say, he couldn’t do it sober.

After what had felt like an eternity he looked up and seemed to take a second to focus on you.

“Why’d ya leave?”

You took another deep breath and pushed your lukewarm drink to the side, interlocking your fingers and placing them on the table as you leaned forward to rest against your arms.

You spoke softly, “Because ya told me to, Bo.”

He kissed his teeth and shook his head, waving a finger at you. “Wasn’ the first time. Always told ya I didn’t mean it. Don’t bullshit me.”

You closed your eyes for a second to avoid rolling them at his antics. He was right, he had told you to leave before. Countless times. What he failed to realize is that regardless of how many times he did or didn’t try to make amends, you could only handle so many outbursts.

How many nights of him kicking you out to sleep on the couch did he expect you to tolerate? How many people did he want you to allow to whisper sweet nothings in his ear at the garage? The time you caught him nibbling on a stripper's ear seemed to be nothing more than ‘doing the job’ as he not so kindly explained later that night. It never went past flirting, so what was the problem?

He was right. He was always right. Beauregard fucking Sinclair could do no wrong. You were the problem. It didn’t matter if deep down he didn’t believe that and you knew he didn’t. You’d been plenty patient with him over the last two years with nothing to show for.

You keep your voice steady, still attempting to maintain a gentleness to it. A privilege he truly wasn’t owed anymore. “Bo, I was tired.”

His face scrunched but not purely in anger. You saw in the way his brows furrowed and the briefest expression of a kicked puppy. “T’fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“You told me you wanted me gone. Many nights. Sometimes multiple nights in a row. Those same nights I’d be sent to sleep on the couch. The next mornin’ I wasn’t guaranteed even the smallest acknowledgment. Even after I’d still get up bright and early to make everyone breakfast. Those same mornin’s I’d clean up and find you pushed up against some whore in the garage. Only after you licked whatever wounds you had did I receive any concern.”

You felt the anger begin melting into dread and ache.

“Suddenly all those comments started feelin’ a whole lot more sincere. I’d speak out then I was a ‘lousy fuck that can be replaced’. N ya know what? Maybe I was that to you. Then some asshole teens get the upper hand and I’m useless while I’m patching up your stab wound. Hell, I heard ya telling Lester that I’d be treated like a cash cow if I even thought about gettin’ a job outta town.”

You tilted your head back to somehow will the tears in your eyes to disappear. Instead, the bright lamp overhead causes you to blink and send them cascading down your jaw. You released a shaky sigh and wiped your face on your sleeves, deciding to stay pressed into your clothed wrists.

Bo remained silent and you waited with bated breath for an onslaught of accusations and weak excuses but they never came.

You exhaled, wishing all the unspoken words that accumulated over the last two years would leave with the air in your lungs. “That town, Vincent, Lester, n you were my world, Bo. But I didn’t seem that much to ya.”

When he finally spoke, it was soft. A gentle whisper that had held more hurt than he’s ever allowed himself to show to you.

“So it’s my fault?”

It wasn’t accusatory. It wasn’t the beginning of a spew of defensive comments. It was a genuine question not in the form of shock but the need for validation.

You tucked your hands on either side of your head, curling your fingers around the back of your neck and nodding a little before looking up to meet his gaze.

“To me? Yeah, Bo. I gave you everythin’ I thought that you’d wanted. Not that you ever asked because I wasn’t given the luxury of communication.”

His eyes were red and his whole body shook. He looked to be on the verge of either screaming his head off or breaking down into sobs.

“‘S hard, darlin’. I didn’t— it was just— fuck.”

His fist slammed on the table, gathering the eyes of a few groups nearby for a moment. As soon as he realized this he whipped his head to face the wall next to you both, practically growling at the attention.

This should be your sign to leave. A warning that this will end in screaming and tears but your heart ached. For the two years you spent trying to help Bo, this was the biggest breakthrough you’d made.

Slowly you reached out one of your hands, palm side up, and slid it a little over halfway across the table.

He didn’t notice, mumbling curses to himself as his dull nails dug into any skin he felt the need to grab at.

You rested your other hand on the table to lean over a little more, your voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter around you. “Bo? Baby, look at me please.”

His head jerked to you hearing the little pet name he’d been deprived of for the months you’ve been gone. His mouth opened and closed with every thought of his not quite reaching his lips. Bo’s watery eyes looked down at your hand and back to you before hesitantly reaching for your hand. He stopped half way and looked at you again as if this were some joke, some twisted game you were trying to play. When he realized you wouldn’t disappear his hand practically crushed yours. Moving both his hands to hold onto it as a lifeline.

Your frown deepened and you felt your eyes burn with more threats of tears. You brought your other hand over to rest atop his, caressing his knuckles and giving him light squeezes.

“Let me take you back to Ambrose, okay? I don’t want you drivin’ back like this.”

A weak smirk pulled at his lips and he slurred a comment. Something along the lines of ‘knew ya still cared’. Just as quickly as it came it left, looking down at your joined hands and nodding a little.

You paid for the drinks which meant you had to release him. Something he really didn’t appreciate but to make up for it he lingered only inches away at all times. Afterwards you walked him to his truck, eventually hooking his arm over you for more stability on his part.

You allowed him to climb into the truck, holding onto his arm for any support may he decide to tumble out. Typically he would’ve scolded you for even trying.

Little did you know, he was relishing in your care and concern. Something he’d been deprived of all his life but missed severely after you left. Something he had become dependent on.

You got yourself in the driver's seat and ten minutes into the twenty minute drive Bo had shifted himself to be pressed, dare you say, curled into your side.

The silence wasn’t awkward but it was saddening. Each passing minute was another closed window for him to fix whatever he could. There was plenty you could say. Even ways to make it easier for him to express whatever it was he was thinking, but that wasn’t the point of this. You had done your part for two years. If he couldn’t do this for one night then there was no saving it.

As you neared Ambrose you felt an arm snake around your waist and his face pressed into your shoulder. You pretended not to hear his sniffling and occasional sob.

When you parked in front of the house and killed the engine his grip tightened so much it hurt.

“Miss ya. Miss ya s’ much. S’ tired. Can’t sleep without ya. Always wake up thinkin’ y’ll be there next ta me.”

You silently tugged at his arm, signaling for him to release you. You could’ve sworn you heard a mix of a whimper and a growl as he yanked his arm back. You had to catch him as he was already at the door to avoid any more rejection.

His eyes were wild and swimming with hurt. “What?! I ain’t stupid! Not gon sit here n listen ta you tell me how fucked I am!”

Carefully you climbed over his legs and settled into his lap, giving him ample time to shove you off if he so desired.

God, he’d never even consider it. Not now. Not anymore.

You finally stilled, straddling his legs and cupping his face in his hands. “Bo, listen to me. Please?”

His hands tentatively came to rest on your hips, squeezing and pulling to get you even closer as he looked up to you with a reverence you’d never seen cross Bo’s face.

You fought the urge to kiss his pink lips and his flushed cheeks. “I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I loved you Bo. Fuck, I still do. I love you with every ounce in me. I wake up every mornin’ aching to feel you pullin’ me close just to pretend it never happened durin’ breakfast. Beds never been s’ cold before.”

He began sputtering over words, his fingers digging into your flesh. “I do too. Fuckin’ hell. I-I love you too darlin’. I can’t— I-I won’t— I promise—”

It would’ve been cruel for you to let him keep suffering on his own. Especially when you’ve allowed yourself to go this far. When he’d been trying all night to tell you ‘sorry’ in some twisted, roundabout way. You tilted his face up and pressed a kiss to his lips, lingering to give a few more. One hand remained squeezing your hip, likely leaving bruises, and the other came to press flat on your back.

You stayed like that for a few minutes. The kiss was heated at times then slow at others. It became the way he communicated at that moment. When he’d go a little lax and bask in the attention you’d move your kisses to his cheeks and his eyelids. Not missing the corners of his mouth and his nose on the way up. When his teeth would tug at your lip and his hand found its way to your head to keep you pressed against him, you’d relax and let him take what he needed within reason.

Finally, you pulled away a little, placing your hands on his chest to keep him from chasing after you.

“Bo… I’ve missed ya s’ much.”

He settled both hands under you and pulled you closer, looking up into your eyes. “I missed ya too, baby doll. God—“

You open your mouth and surprisingly he closes his. “But, I can’t go back to the way it was, Bo. I won’t continue bein’ your emotional punchin’ bag and late-night fuck to get all your feelin’s out.”

He looks away and you move your hands to his face, turning him back to you, your thumbs caressing his flushed face. His hazed and watery eyes caused you to hold equal parts hurt for him and fear for yourself. Hurt that it had to get to this point for him to open up. Fear that when he’d sober in the morning all this would be gone just as quick as it happened. 

“I love you s’ much. You don’t gotta say it back. I don’t expect this to just be fixed come tomorrow. I don’t expect you to be on your best behavior from here on. You’re gonna have bad days. Really, really bad days. We all do. All I’m askin’ is that you let me help you. You don’t gotta talk to me ‘bout it. I know you hurt a lot and I know it’s hard to let yourself be taken care of but that’s all I wanna do for ya Bo.”

You kissed his forehead and the top of his head, whispering into his hair. “All I want is to love you as much as you’ll let me but it has to be more than what it was. I know what we got will never be normal. We are far from normal.”

Tears silently spilled from his eyes, his lids seemed to slowly become too heavy for him.

“Ya hear me, baby? Ya hear what I’m telling you?”

He chuckled a little and gave you a little squeeze. “Ya still talk a whole lot. Jesus.” He mustered a small, hopeful smile, and spoke quietly. “I hear ya… but I don’t know if any of that means yer comin’ back.”

You returned his smile and gave him another quick kiss. “We need to set some boundaries, talk n sort all this shit out before I come back home for good.” You took a deep breath and nodded. “But I’ll stay for tonig—”

Suddenly he kicked the door open, hoisting you out of the truck. He stumbled and almost sent you both rolling down the hill as you squealed and clung to him like your life depended on it. You’d forgotten about his shocking ability to throw you around like a rag doll.

You couldn’t help but giggle a little, squeezing tighter when he stumbled up the steps. “Bo! What the fuck ya doin’?!”

He stopped at the door and looked up at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky, his words slurred, “Ya called it home. Ya called my little town home, baby doll.” He flung open the door and paused, looking as if he’s forced himself to sober up for what he wants to say. “Promise we’ll talk ‘bout whatever you want tomorrow. Swear it. Just… just lemme have tonight?”

You didn’t respond, just giving him another sickly sweet kiss, one of many that night.