#There needs to be something to replace that feeling or you'll just crave it until you can't stand the feeling anymore

[soup-is-here]

Mouthwashing Spoilers

TW: Addiction and Self Harm

I wanna go on about Swansea's final monologue but it's hard to put into words, but I'm gonna try anyways cause it's a short, but strong story about autonomy again. This post ended up significantly longer than I wanted though

It's the autonomy to choose the "less healthy" option because it's appealing to you. It's the moral assignment to normality and stability. An alcoholic is an alcoholic by choice, technically, but do they owe us otherwise? Is it morally reprehensible to enjoy taking LSD at a party? Should we see someone as less than because they relax with a xanax instead of a hot shower? It's not healthy. We know that. We've seen anti-drug ad after ad after ad. But is that the part that's morally wrong, in and of itself? Does enjoying the drugs and chaos make Swansea a worse person?

Like him talking about his entire life and ending it by saying between the "stable" "normal" life and him waking up every morning with a new hangover, he preferred the latter. People always talk about getting clean and fixing their lives and Swansea did it! He did the thing "good men" do! A wife and kids and a trade job and sobriety! He was doing it! He was finally "worth" something!

And he hated it! I mean I don't know if he actually hated/despised it, but he misses his previous life. He misses drugs and partying and living like you might not wake up the next day. He said the thing that changed him was seeing himself dead in a ditch under the bright beam of a streetlight. Now he's looking down the barrel of a gun. And as he looks down it, he looks back. That was his preference. It felt good to be like that. And he wouldn't be here if he stayed there

We always have a narrative about drugs or gambling or sleeping around where a person suddenly realizes that they aren't "doing anything" with their life and becomes stable and it's always played like addiction is a false pleasure. Swansea got to the stability people said would be the real pleasure of life and that just wasn't true for him. One bad paycheck could've been the difference between his stable life and falling apart anyways. His lifestyle was going to kill him someday apparently, yet he's staring down the barrel of a gun at his steady trade job to feed his wife and kids.

I don't know quite how to word it but Swansea is the poster child for rehabilitation. There's this weight to him saying his alcoholic period was the best time of his life. Like it just hits at that pang that makes people wear DARE shirts while smoking weed and post those videos of smoking 100 cigarettes at once. Anti-vaping ads tell you about the damage they do to your body but everyone knows that already. Everyone knows "this is what your brain looks like on drugs." I smoke medical marijuana and it isn't good for my lungs but it's good for my pain. Doing drugs isn't good for me and I know that and that's sorta the point sometimes.

I don't know it's just this weird pang where I know what Swansea means, just not to nearly the same extent. I don't have an addiction so I don't think I could fully understand it. Maybe a better thing I could relate it to for myself is self harm. It's not healthy sure, but who do I owe health? Myself? Other people? And what is healthy? Is it feeling better now? Is it resisting now and feeling worse for it until it stops? What if the coping skills I learn make it worse? What if they make it better? Do I want it to get better? Does Swansea want to get better? What would better feel like to either of us?

Who knows until you try. Swansea got a collared shirt, a mortgage, and a credit card. He got a job and a wife and kids. He got sober. He got healthier, depending on your definition.

But did he feel better? He's looking down a barrel of a gun and he has to decide if he feels better. It doesn't seem like he regrets his new life. He says he wants his kids to be better than him. He wants good things to happen for them. He saw himself as one bad slip away from falling again. I don't think he felt better though. I think he got healthier. He likely would've ended up in the ditch he dreamt about, but we don't know that. We also don't know if that's what he'd prefer. But, we do know he got healthier, depending on your definition.

[larkspurblue]

Alright I'm on my period (pain) and in a monsterfucker mood so, here's how I imagine several of my fave monsters would react to their s/o on shark week

Dragon: I imagine these guys run hot, so you'd have easy access to what's basically a massive heat pack that's eager to please and probably going to be a little smug about it. You are the centerpiece of their hoard and dragons take great pride in keeping what is theirs in top condition. Expect to be pampered as they see fit and to have your every want and desire tended to. Need something? Don't even think of getting up, they'll get it for you. Cravings? Already stocked up on all your favorites. Want comfort? You'll be snuggled up to and curled around like a teddy bear. There will probably be a heat pack for when your dragon can't be around (probably because they're running errands for you), but expect those times to be few and far between. Overall, dragons will take this time of the month as a way to prove just how attentive and capable they are. Please reward with lots of pats and kisses.

Drider: PANIC. Driders have an incredible sense of smell and will know you're on your period the moment that you start. No matter how many times it happens, their first and instinctual reaction to smelling blood on you will always be concern that you've been injured in some way. This feeling can be hard to shake off, so don't be surprised if they get particularly anxious or hovering. Driders take their mate's health very seriously and have no patience for anything threatening that, including you, so you won't have to worry about not having what you need but you will have to worry about upsetting your drider by not looking after yourself to their standard. For example, if you skip a meal under their watchful eyes, you'll be pestered about not getting the energy and nutrients you need until you give in. And big one, take extreme measures to reassure them that you're not overexerting, or you might find yourself relegated to a bed or couch for resting, cocooned until you're deemed ready to get up and not a moment sooner.

Robot: Honestly most of the time you probably think they don't know that you're on your period until you tell them, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The more humanoid robots/commercial androids will probably act like any other caring human lover, while the less human ones will be curious if the relationship is new and might need some explaining. But no matter the make, your robot s/o will be monitoring your biometrics 24/7 and constantly looking for ways to help. You may not notice, but they'll be setting down a glass of water any time you need to hydrate, organizing your things to make everything easier to find, adjusting the room temperature and humidity and brightness to your liking, and ordering anything you need before you're even aware that you need it. I mean, now that you think about it, when was the last time you needed to restock your painkillers, replace a heat pack, or get more pads/tampons? That's right...

Bonus: Writing "shark week" at the top of this made me think like... wait what about being on your period with a shark mer around. Can I just say there's no way they would be any kind of normal about it. Good luck handling your absolutely fucking feral mer, you're going to need it because the way you smell hits about five different primal urges and every interaction is like spinning a wheel and seeing what you hit. Have fun being either smothered in affection or fretted over or hunted or hunted for or jumped.

[skinscals]

I've struggled with binging my whole life. Now I've managed to lose almost 21lbs and more is coming off. I'd like to share some things I've used when I'm feeling like binging!

1. I WANT TO BINGE

It causes me legit anxiety when I get the urge to eat. Sometimes it's something specific, sometimes it can be moldy bread I have already. But if you feel like you want the food RN, think that you can always go and get it. Just, wait 10 minutes, if you really need it, it's okay, you can always go out and buy it. The food ain't gonna disappear anywhere. This mindset brings me kind of peace.

If you're feeling hungry but you've just eaten, drink water. Also remember to take your vitamins and supplements. If you have huge deficiency on those things your body may start sending hunger cues. If you lack vitamins, your body craves sugar etc.

2. I ALREADY STARTED BINGING

And you can stop it! You've already had a taste, right? You want to keep binging because you know how awesome it tastes. Brush your teeth and get the flavors out of your mouth! It helps! I use this all the time! I already started on my chocolate cake, I brush the taste off! It's the taste that keeps us wanting more!

3. I BINGED...

It feels like it's the end of the world... You hate yourself, so you decide that now on you start restricting even more, right? Please dont. Hold yourself accountable but do not punish yourself. If you binge, you probably have some mental issues you cope with food. Thinking about your binge too much creates panic and stress and self hatred, which causes you to binge again. Don't put any more mental load on yourself.

WHAT CAN I DO TO PREVENT THIS FROM HAPPENING?!

Take it from someone, who has struggled with this their whole life!

- Don't restrict too much. The cycle between binging and restricting will never end...

- When you eat, instead of focusing on how low cal it is, focus on will it make you full? If you eat 200 low cal stuff, and it won't make you full, you'll binge another 1000kcal in one sitting. Instead, focus on protein and nutrients and, Will this make me full? If it doesn't, they're stupid empty calories you ate for, uhm, for fun. If it does, you ate something to survive and keep your engine running. Be clever!

- If you use food as a coping mechanism or as a reward or anything, I feel you. This one's tricky, because coping mechanisms are important and you can't really take them away once they're learned. It's hard, and we may replace them with something more harmful and dangerous. Try things. Personally I find going on walks very effective. I listen Ed stuff or my favorite songs. If I feel very shitty, I may run until I can't breathe. And every time I feel better when I come home. I still use food sometimes, but now I have another option as well. Please, try things!

- if you crave something very specific let's say, chocolate, instead of forbidding it from yourself, buy a little bar of chocolate. Maybe even every day (count it's calories tho!) If you forbid something from yourself, you'll want it even more. And, guess what, binge on it. Which is better, one 200kcal bar of chocolate or 1200kcal chocolate bar? Between the two bad choices, pick the one that's less bad.

- Find replacement foods. If you crave chocolate for example, find something similar but healthier. I use protein bars. They're filling and chocolate! I won't be craving more after 1 or 2 and it's still better than eating the whole 1200kcal bar!

- Learn to love yourself now. Or even like. If that's too hard, please have even some respect for yourself. It's been studied that If you get negative encouragement, you'll probably fail but if you get positive encouragement you'll more likely succeed in what you're doing!

- Write your feelings and goals down somewhere and come back to them when you feel like binging!

- Remember that you're not perfect. If you have binging problem, you will binge in the future. But as you learn on the way, you'll binge less and less and one day you'll notice, that the last time you relapsed was 6 months ago. It's a journey as well. Learn from it.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask anything! I hope these would help even one person. You got this.

Stay safe, love life and focus on your goals! 💕 You're amazing and you deserve to live happily!

[romanestuffsposts]

Hi idk if you are taking requests but if you are can do angst/fluff with stucky of a little reader to hits herself as a coping mechanism, maybe after a punishment or during where she has to sit in her room alone. thank you <3

Hi there love! 💜

Yes of course I take request! Thank you for sharing yours! ❤️

I hope you like how I write it <3

Enjoy >33

****

Warnings : little!reader is hitting herself, punishment, cries, comfort, pet names, fear of not being loved, hematoma, reassurance

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary :,you can't bear the feeling of your Papa being disappointed in you. You have to feel what your Papa felt to be able to forgive yourself

****

"You look at the corner and you don't move nor talk until I said so" your Daddy coldly says as he points at you. You curl in the corner and swing your body to calm yourself when you hear his footsteps leaving.

You didn't meant to be bad, you didn't meant to do something that can make your Daddies angry with you. You just wanted a cookie before dinner, nothing more. You were good all week so you thought you could ask for one but your Papa said no, he wanted you to eat your dinner and then you could have cookies in front of a movie before bedtime but you didn't listen.

You still went to the kitchen and took one. Your Papa said that he made them for you, so you could enjoy your evening with them and as a reward for being so good during this week and he told you he was hurt that you took one behind his back.

You're sitting on the floor of the kitchen, facing a corner while you hear your Daddies watching the tv in the room beside this one. You hug your knees and rest your cheek against the top of your knees.

A single tear fall along your temple at the thought of you hurting your Papa by eating just one tiny cookie. You didn't meant to do that, your desire to have that cookie in your mouth, touching your tongue was too much for you to ignore it. You didn't thought he would've seen it... but he did and now you feel really bad.

The pain is too much, the feelings you're feeling right now are too much for you to handle. Why do you feel like this ? Is it because you made your Papa feel like that ? Or is it because you still crave for a cookie even tho you know you'll hurt him more by taking another one ?

Your little head lifts from your knees before falling back down on them really hard. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your sobs for yourself as you keep doing this mechanism.

You need to feel what your Papa is feeling right now so you can understand how bad you hurted him and then you'll understand how bad it actually is.

You close your eyes and keep hitting your forehead against your knees until the pain in your heart is replaced by the pain in your head from the hitting. You wanted to keep going but didn't noticed that your sobs were stronger than you and finally got out, as well as small whimpers from the pain which is heard by your Daddies.

Steve sighs but don't look away from the screen "can you go see what she's doing ?" he asks annoyed. Bucky bits his lips and nods before standing up. He knows Steve doesn't want to deal with you right now and he understands that.

He walks in the kitchen and frowns with wide eyes when he spots you and what you're doing. He quickly walks to you and grabs your head before you can do it again, he looks at your face wet from the tears "ohh baby" he breathes out "what are you doing ?" he softly asks.

He kneels beside you so you don't feel intimidate by him because he's over you. He gently strokes the side of your head, careful to avoid the spot you hitted so he doesn't hurt you more.

You sniff and look up at him "I hut Papa" you choke out on your words. His eyes soften and he tilts his head "he's hurt now but it'll fade away. You know he can't stay mad at you more than a few minutes" he teases, trying to make you laugh or smile but you just sob more

"why did you hit yourself, babygirl ?" he quietly says. He's scared that the fact to hear what you were doing is making you feel more low or will make you cry more.

You wince at his words and more tears fall from your cheeks. He lets you take your times to be ready before talking, his fingers keep sliding down your hair and lightly stroking your cheeks

"needed to feel wha Papa felt" you cry out and your Daddy frowns. What do you mean ?

It's a conversation you need to have with your Papa. He picks you up and you wrap yourself around him as he carries you. His hands gently stroke your back when he feels you tensing because you entered the living room, where your Papa is.

"it'll be okay, beautiful" he whispers in your ear before sitting down on the couch.

Steve frowns when he sees you "she still has 30 minutes to do" he coldly says before looking back at the tv.

Your Daddy sighs and comforts you when you whimper after hearing your Papa's words. "Steve" your Daddy snaps, getting his attention.

Your Papa looks at you and your Daddy as he turns you around. Steve frowns when he sees your forehead who is turning between a shade of blue and purple.

He goes to say something but your Daddy shakes his head, giving a look that say 'let her talk'.

You sniff and shyly peer up at your Papa "I sowy Papa" you cry out "didn't meant to be bad, jus wanted one tooties"

"I know you didn't meant to be bad, sweetie but why didn't you wait until movie time ? It would've been faster than what you think" he explains

More tears fall down your cheeks "i sowy I hut you" you cry "don wanna Papa stay mad at me" you sob "pease don hate me"

"Baby.." he scoops closer to you and hold you tight against him "i could never hate you, princess" he says in his sweet voice, trying to calm you down "i was hurt that you couldn't wait but that doesn't mean I hate you" he grabs your cheeks so you would look up at him "you're my little princess" he smiles through the pain of seeing you like this "my perfect little princess. I will always love you" he reassures you "forever and always"

He goes to rest his forehead against your but just as the skins touch, you flinch away because of the pain. He pulls away, remembering and takes a look at it "what happened, sweetie ?"

You look at your Daddy who nod at you, reassuring you about telling what happened at your Papa. You look back at your Papa after swallowing your fear and see him patiently waiting. He doesn't rush you into doing things you aren't comfortable with right away which help you.

"Can't fogive myself if i don feel lite Papa" you mumble as you look down at your feet. Your Papa's eyes shift on your Daddy's, now full of pain and regrets before looking back down at you.

"can you look at me, please ?" he gently asks. You lift your head and dive your eyes into his blue one as he takes a hold of your hands "you don't have to forgive yourself baby. You don't have to hurt yourself to be able to take away my pain. I'm the one who is taking your pain away, not otherwise"

You nod and sniff "i'm not mad, baby" he adds "and I don't think I ever was"

He tilts his head and kisses your nose "you're not our little trouble if you don't steal cookies, right ?" he teases making you giggle. Your Daddy grins and pokes your sides from behind "but that doesn't mean you can do it" you giggle more and squirm away from your Daddy's fingers

Your Papa winks at you with a loving smile before holding you close to him "I love you" he breathes out "so so much" his eyes are close shut

You snuggle closer to him and close your eyes, melting under his touch "I loze you too" you mumble

You feel your Daddy's chest hitting yours and two more arms wrapping around you and your Papa "don't forget me" he teases "because I love you more" he whispers in your ear making you giggle. His breath tickling your sensitive skin.

"why don't we put ice on this beautiful forehead ?" your Papa says as he pulls away. You feel your Daddy moving and soon hears his footsteps leaving the room.

You squirm a little in your Papa's arms until your back is against his chest and his fingers are gently stroking your belly. You close your eyes at the comfort of his touches.

You open your eyes when you feel something cold on your forehead and see your Daddy holding ices on your forehead to calm the hematoma. He smiles, kisses your nose before putting you feet on his laps and gently running his fingers along them.

"close your eyes, little one" your Daddy softly says "we'll wake you up when dinner is here"

You smile as you close your eyes, they ordered food from outside. It'll be a good evening that's for sure

[my-castles-crumbling]

How to cope with self harm?

Okay I debated answering this because there's no real way to TW this without hiding the whole question, so I'm gonna put a 'read more' cut and hope that's alright!

TW: SH (obviously)

Firstly, a few people have asked me in my inbox if I currently SH or have SHed in the past...I feel like that's a bit of a personal question, but I'll answer since it's relevant. Just a reminder that normally, you shouldn't ask people that. It's something I struggled with as a teenager. I say this not to glamorize it or tell you that it's a good idea (please don't do it!) but to tell you that I've been there and I no longer SH. I've been clean for...god, over seven years.

There are a couple strategies that have worked for me. This obviously doesn't mean they'll automatically work for you, but they might!

Try to replace the behavior with something else. Okay so as someone who has gone/is going to school for education, there's been a lot of studies about behaviorism and Plavlovian response. Meaning, you can actually train yourself to crave/need something when something else happens. For example, people often eat when driving. It gets to the point where they get the urge to eat just because they are in the car. Not because they're hungry. You can try to do a similar thing with SH urges. Pick a coping mechanism that is healthier (reading, writing, singing, music, running) and every time you have an urge to SH, do that SAME thing instead. It will get to the point that when you get an urge, you'll automatically turn to that coping mechanism instead. I did this, and it helped.

Keep a count of time since you last SHed. Even if it's only 20mins. Turn it into a game, with a record. Eventually, it can be a motivating factor- 'I don't wanna break my 2h streak!' 'I don't wanna break my 3d2h streak!' Reward yourself if you beat your record.

Use deep pressure fidgets. Many fidgets give deep pressure that can mimic the stimulation of SH without harming you. Here's a fidget that I like using when I need sensory input.

Have a plan for when you feel in crisis. WRITE IT DOWN (maybe on a notes app or something you always have with you). If you feel in crisis, go to the plan, follow the steps. I used to text a crisis hotline. It kept my mind busy until I calmed down, you know?

If you truly feel like you are out of control, tell someone. I know it's scary to admit you need help, but on the other side of that help is so much relief. Things get better, guys <3

Sending so much love!

[starlightyellow]

It's Nothing, I'm Sure. (Johnshi Short)

If you like my writing, you can find my Ao3 here. Thanks for reading!

"Kenshi, come on! We can't run from this forever!" The rain pelts Johnny's face as he pushes through thick brush to keep up with the swordman's brooding. The dark, gray sky furls in anger, lashing out in fits of lightning and thunder. Johnny loses his footing, dropping to his knees into the slippery mud. He groans in frustration as he struggles to regain his balance.

"No one is running, Cage. You just don't take no for an answer." Kenshi grits behind him as he makes his way toward the bathhouse, trying to completely disregard the actor's attempts to talk. Couldn't he take the hint that it would be better to just bury the other night into their memory? Just chalk it up to two grown, horny men letting off steam during a time of stress?

"Bullshit!" Johnny tackles Kenshi to the ground, ruining his clean clothes and fresh towel. Kenshi whips back and pushes Johnny, causing him to slide backward into the trunk of a tree. Irritated that he'll have to walk all the way back in the rain to replace his ruined supplies, Kenshi grumbles as he hastily picks up his things.

"Honestly Johnny, nobody wants to put up with a brat." Kenshi makes to walk away again but is yanked back into a headlock looking up at Johnny's face.

"Let me go, Cage!" Kenshi struggles against his hold, but the actor's knees under his back makes it very hard to break his grip.

"No! You don't get to tell me I can't take no for an answer. Not when you begged me last night. You pleaded with me to have that moment. Now you're acting like nothing happened!" Kenshi cracks Johnny in the face, thinking the hit would startle him enough to let him go. But Johnny growls, and tightens his hold around Kenshi's neck.

"Fine, Cage. So much for me trying to save your little feelings. I'm acting like nothing happened because to me it was nothing. I was having a craving, I needed it sated. I scratched your back and you scratched mine. Now you're getting pissy with me like a little bitch because my back doesn't itch anymore." Kenshi swings again, missing Johnny but able to swing himself out of his grasp.

Once able to stand, Kenshi sees the hurt look painted on Johnny's face and it makes his stomach drop. He quickly walks away, deciding to abandon the soiled cloth. He just needs to get away from Johnny. Kenshi can't push away the cut-up feeling boiling in his stomach. He does not have time for this. The plan was to befriend the actor and take the sword. For his honor, his ancestors, and his clan. Now, he had actually fallen for the thief standing in the way of his family's freedom, and he felt bad about cutting it off.

By the time Kenshi gathers new clothes and a towel, Johnny is nowhere to be seen. He adamantly ignores the pang of worry rushing through him. Their shared room is still empty when he comes back from bathing too, but he definitely wasn't biting his fingernails waiting for the man or anything. That would be delusional, which Kenshi was not.

Johnny and Kenshi had their spat in the morning, and it wasn't until nightfall after Kenshi had fallen asleep that Johnny made his way back to their room. Kenshi is awake from the click of the door, but is startled by something long and heavy plopping down next to him on the side of the bed.

Kenshi grazes his hand over the hilt of the sword and he knows. It's Sento, lying on his other side. He tilts his head up at Johnny, taking in the coldness in his puffy eyes.

“What are you-“

"I don't want to deal with you anymore, so here it is." Johnny says abruptly, "I know you'll only track me for it so I'm just gonna save you the trouble and cough it up." He turns on his heel, grabbing a pillow and blanket while swiftly making his way out of the door.

I don’t want to deal with you anymore.

It knocks the air out of him. So much so that he can’t call after Johnny like he wants to. Or find the strength in his legs to rush after him.

Kenshi should be happy. He has a space to himself for the night. He's got his ancestral weapon back where it rightfully belongs. He should be jumping up and down, rejoicing at the thought of finally completing his lifelong goal. Instead, it feels like Johnny stabbed him in the chest with the sword as opposed to relinquishing it to him. It felt oddly empty in the room the more he sat there without his friend's snoring filling it. Guilt and anger swirls in Kenshi's stomach until he can't contain it anymore. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling or the shaking of his shoulders. He can't hide from the feeling of betrayal that consumes him.

He did the right thing, didn't he? He couldn't pull Johnny into his family issues or even his family. He doesn't even know if his ancestors like Johnny, let alone accept whatever they were. Now, sitting inside a room that was once so full of life, he can't tell who should be accepting who.

[sweetsweetjellybean]

TW: Smut-tacular 3 way smut. Angst. NSFW.

AN: Thanks to @loveshotzz for listening to all my ramblings & my beta @billybluboy for all her hard work.

Masterlist Fic Menu

""Goddam, baby."

"Mmmmhmmm."

"Please tell me your close," Eddie says with closed eyes, neck muscles straining, his hand furiously circling your clit. 

"No. Not yet. Just a little longer." With both hands pressed on his smooth, solid chest, you raise your hips and drive them back down, taking his hard cock as deep as you can. After a notably quiet dinner, Eddie wanted to take advantage of the empty house by finishing what you had started that morning. 

The sex between you had always been spectacular and left you feeling closer to him, which is exactly what you are craving, but your body must have missed the memo. Teetering on edge, your muscles are bunched so tight, begging for release, but every time your close thoughts of what could have happened between you and Steve appear, pulling you back from the brink. 

"Baby, I'll eat you out for hours after this, I swear, but I need to come." Leaning back and changing the angle, you ride him faster. "Fu..oh ga." He moans as he pulses deep inside you, filling you with his warm release. 

"Holy shit, that was amazing," he pants as your motions slow to a stop, "Just give me a minute, and I'll make you come.

"It's just not going to happen tonight, Eddie," you say, climbing off him and going to the ensuite to clean up, grateful for a minute alone to sort through your emotions without worrying that your expression will betray you. When you return, he's sitting up with his back against the wooden headboard, the sheet gathered around his waist and his eyes full of worry. 

"What's wrong?" His hesitant tone leaves you steeped in guilt. 

"Nothing," you sigh, pulling a shirt over your head, "I don't know what's going on with me." He holds open his arms, and immediately some of the tension fades. You join him under the blankets without hesitation, letting him draw you close. "Tell me about your day. You got your van, alright?"

"Yeah, I owe Wayne another fifty bucks for the impound fee. The cops tore through it and took my favorite bowl."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find another."

"Baby, she was my favorite. What we had together can't just be replaced. I'll need some time before I'm ready to move on." He pulls the blankets up to his chin and makes his doe eyes droop.

"Okay. I'm sorry for your loss. Please, continue."

"Thank you," he says, putting his arm around you, "Hopper was able to clear most of it up…except for Chrissy." You stiffen at the mention of her name. 

"That's still under investigation, but Hopper said it's a formality. There isn't any evidence that, you know, that I hurt her. Just that she was at my place. So, I've just got to stay in town and stay out of trouble until that's over."

"And why were you two alone in your trailer, again?"

He hesitates. His lips draw into a thin line, and he turns away from you, sliding open the nightstand drawer and rummaging through it.

"Uh-huh." Getting out of bed, you pick up the basket of clean laundry that still needs to be folded. The clothes in the basket mainly belong to Steve, and you sigh, remembering you forgot to stop at your parents" house to pick up more of your things. 

"Can you drive me home tomorrow? I need to pick up the rest of my clothes." Shaking out a pair of jeans, you try to smooth some wrinkles before folding them neatly. 

"I start back to school tomorrow." He's doodling in a small black notebook he found in the drawer.

"Tomorrow? You can't start back next week?" 

"I've already missed so much. I have a ton of make-up work to do or I'm going to be repeating this year again. Plus, there is hellfire and the band."

"Alright. I get it. I was hoping we'd have a few more days together. And I'd have a car or a job or something." And maybe it would be better for you not to be alone with Steve all day, but you weren't going to tell Eddie that.

"No luck today?"

"Not unless you want me stripping. Steve is going to ask Hopper to help me get a job at Enzo's." 

"Steve is?"

"Yeah, why?" You ask, matching up a pair of socks, "Maybe he can take me to my house tomorrow." 

"Well, isn't Steve being helpful now that you've fucked him?"

The shirt you were shaking out slips through your fingers, and you look down at the pile of clothes in front of you. "I'm going to take a shower. You can fold your own goddamn clothes," you erupt, taking the rest of the clothes and throwing them at him. Turning on your heel, you walk to the bathroom. 

"Baby-" The rest of what he said is cut off as you slam the door and turn on the shower.

The clock built into The Mister Coffee dings, followed by whirring and gurgling as it comes to life and begins to percolate. Standing at the island, you yawn as you smear some mustard, mixing it with the creamy mayo on two slices of bread before adding some deli-sliced ham and cheese.

"Baby, are you making that for me?" Eddie walks into the kitchen wearing his hellfire shirt and light jeans. 

"I am. I wanted you to have a good lunch for your first day back." You explain as you wrap up the sandwich in wax paper and add it to the brown bag filled with an apple and a bag of pretzels. 

"Thank you, my love." His arms go around, and you turn your head to receive his soft kisses. 

Lingering in the shower last night, you had hoped the hot spray would wash away some of your anger toward Eddie. By the time you slipped into bed, he was already asleep, and you wondered if his early night was preparation for an early morning of school, or avoidance. You battled a restless night of tossing and turning, and when the alarm blared this morning, it was as if nothing had happened. A silent agreement sealed with an almost mundane good-morning kiss to move on and leave things unresolved—the status quo whenever there is a conflict between the two of you.

"Hellfire on a Tuesday? Did it move nights?"

"Nah. It's still on Fridays. I can't go back to school in one of Harrington's Polos, though. I need to go to Wayne's after school. He said he had saved a box of my things. Hopefully, there are some clothes in there. I need to talk to Rick too. I'm hoping he'll front me so I can get some money for necessities."

"I thought you were laying low?" You tighten the lid on the mayo before putting it back in the fridge.

"Baby, it's seven in the morning. Can we please not do this? Just trust me, okay?" He presses a kiss to your lips. "I got to go." He picks up his lunch bag and slings on his jacket. 

"Alright. Play nice with other children." He rolls his eyes, and he's out the door. 

Padding through the quiet house, you had every intention of going to your room to get ready for the day. So when you find yourself standing in front of Steve's room with your hand poised to knock on the door, you pause. The grocery bag with a few boxes of tea sat on the kitchen counter this morning, which was the only reason you knew he was home. He's your friend, and you want to see that he's okay. Your heart beats a little faster as you lightly knock on his door. 

"Come in," he calls in a gravelly voice. Your hand turns the brass knob, and you open the door just enough to slip inside. A sliver of light at the bottom of the window frame steals in below the drawn curtains illuminating the dark room enough to see Steve propped up one arm, laying shirtless in his bed, the light blue sheets gathered at his waist. Your eyes follow the curves and dips of his muscled arms and shoulders, and you remember how they felt as they flexed under your hands while he was inside you. Tearing your gaze away from his body, you focus on his face as the memory has your skin flushing red, sending tiny sparks to every cell. 

All the words you wanted to say stay locked away as you stand caught in his gaze. He opens his mouth and swallows, saying nothing, folding back the corner of the blankets on the empty side of the bed. Accepting his invitation, you slide between the soft sheets until you lie facing him, tucking your hand underneath the pillow. 

"Hi," you say softly, wanting to break the silence as he mimics your position. 

"Hi." His hair sticks up every which way, and light stubble lines his jaw. 

"I didn't hear you come home last night. I was worried."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"Too bad. I'm going to worry about you anyway. That's what friends do."

"Does it make me a terrible person if I admit I like it?" 

"Why do you like it?"

He rolls onto his back and scrubs his face. "I don't know. Don't listen to me. I think I'm delirious from lack of sleep."

"Okay. Let's go to sleep then. I'll stay with you."

"Okay," he says, shutting his eyes. And so it became something of a routine. As soon as Eddie left for school, you would crawl into bed with Steve for another few hours. Then again, after lunch, you would watch TV or read while he napped next to you. By the end of the week, he started looking and sounding a little more like himself. 

"You can come in," Steve calls after you knock Friday morning. Surprisingly, he's up and almost dressed. The curtains are open, and the bright morning light fills the room. 

"What are you doing today?" He asks, pulling a green sweatshirt over his white tee tucked into a pair of light-wash jeans. Your plan was to spend the morning in his bed, and you were a little disappointed that wouldn't happen.

"Nothing special," you try and sound casual, not like your whole day had been planned around him.

"My dad called. I have to bring some paperwork to his office in Indianapolis."

"That sounds nice," you say, looking down at your feet and tugging on the sleeves of your shirt, "getting out of town for the day."

"Yeah? Do you want to come with me?" He fastens his watch over his wrist, and you wonder if he's trying to be as nonchalant as you are by pointedly not looking at you when he says it.

"I'd like to, but I'm not dressed," you say, looking down at your long-sleeved tee and a pair of Eddie's boxers. 

"I have to pick up the files at his office in Hawkins. I can go do that and come back. Would that give you enough time to get ready?"

Smiling, you nod your head.

"Alright. Better hurry." He teases. 

Two hours later, you've traded the quiet streets of Hawkins for the noise and bustle of downtown Indianapolis. Skyscrapers and tall buildings line the streets of Mile Square, and you try not to gawk like a tourist as you exit the underground garage where Steve parked his car. The sound of rushing water has you turning your head. The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument is just a block away.

"I didn't realize we were so close to Monument Circle. Your dad works down here? How rich are you?" You ask, brushing aside some hair that's blown into your face. 

"I have about four hundred dollars in my checking account and some savings bonds from grandparents, so not very," He laughs and takes your hand the way one would a child as he leads you across the busy street. His father's office is on the third floor of a tall gray building. Embarrassingly, your sneakers squeak on the polished marble floor of the pristine lobby as you walk to the bank of elevators. Steve hands off several folders and a manilla envelope to the receptionist, who thanks him before he opens the office's glass door for you to exit back into the hall.

"That's it? You don't want to say hello to your dad?" You ask, following him down the beige hallway.

"Nah." He pushes the 'down' button to call the elevator. "He's busy. Besides, there's someone else I'd rather spend time with." 

A warmth that pinkens your cheeks and ears accompanies the smile you wear all the way down to the lobby. Once you hit the crowded sidewalk, you look towards the memorial again.

"Do you want to go?" Steve asks, motioning with his eyes toward the towering monument.

"Do we have time?"

"We have all day. Come on." He holds out his hand, and you take it. The two of you step into the stream of people walking toward the circle. 

The Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument is a limestone obelisk that stands tall enough to look like it's kissing the clouds, but in truth, is still dwarfed by the taller buildings in the Indianapolis skyline. The ornate stone statues pay tribute to fallen soldiers and the four branches of service, with lady victory standing watch over all of it with her sword and torch. The tiered fountains that flank its raised foundation always draw your eyes. The two of you linger there, watching the water cascade from the statuary.

"This is my favorite part," you say in a voice raised high enough to be heard over the falling water as it flows into the pools at its base. 

"The fountains?" He asks, turning those deep hazel eyes on you. The gold flecks are strikingly notable against the green of his sweater. In fact, if you could only choose one word to describe Steve Harrington, it would be golden. 

"Yeah. Anything with water just makes me instantly at peace. I have a cousin in Maine that my family visited a few times during the summer when I was little. I used to sit on the beach and just watch the waves for hours." You turn your eyes to the monument and the tourists viewing its majesty. "Eddie asked me to move away with him after he graduates. A fresh start and all that. He said we could find someplace near the ocean."

"You're leaving?" You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't return his gaze. "That's... it's really soon. What I mean is that's good. I'm really happy for you. You both deserve a happy ending."

"Well, we are working with Eddie time here. It probably won't be that soon. We'll have to save up. I'm sure you'll be more than ready to kick us out by then."

"I doubt it." He turns quiet and runs his hands through his hair before resting his arms on the stone banister. "Do you want to go up?" After a few minutes of silence, he asks, "it might be your last chance if you're leaving."

It only takes a moment to consider before nodding your head and following him inside. He pays a small fee for you to take the elevator bypassing most of the stairs that lead to the observation deck. After climbing the remaining forty-nine stairs, the tight stairwell opens up to the small viewing area, and your breath catches at the gorgeous view of the downtown area. 

"When was the last time you were here?" Steve asks as he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding you closer to the windows so a family can pass around you in the tight quarters. 

"The field trip in eighth grade. Do you remember?"

"That's right. I goofed off all day. I don't remember very much of it. That's what we should do today."

"What?"

"Go on a field trip. What do you think?" His excited smile makes him look younger, and you have to admit you're happy to see the lightness in him return.

"Where do we start?"

"I can't believe we're at the zoo," you say happily as you wrap your arm around his elbow while passing the dutch windmill at the entrance of the Washington Park Children's Zoo. "Are we going to ride the little train?"

"Absolutely. Anything you want." The late spring sun warms your skin as you take in flowers bursting with color planted around the park. "What do you want to do first? Look at the Tigers or ride the train?"

"The train," you say, bouncing on your toes, "we can look at the elephants."

"Okay, sweet girl." He laughs and steers you toward the little station. Sliding onto the bench seat of the miniature train, you wait for the driver to sound the whistle before it starts chugging down the tracks. 

A little girl in front of you twists in her mother's arms and peeks shyly at Steve. "Hi." He waves at her, and she buries her head in her mother's shoulder, only to pop up a moment later and stick out her tongue. The two of you start making faces at her until she's caught up in a fit of giggles. Her mother notices and turns her around, seating her on her lap. Steve wraps his arm around you, pressing you into his side as he points out the elk on his side of the open-air car. Hawkins and everyone in it feels so far away. Maybe it's okay to get a little lost with him today?

"I'm glad we ate before we went into the primate house," you say, crinkling up your nose.

"It was a little ripe in there." He shares your sentiment as he sucks in some cleaner air on the way out of the exhibit. "You know they are closing this whole place soon."

"What? No." Your brow pulls together as he takes your hand.

"Yeah. They're moving to a bigger piece of land. It will be all new."

"Another piece of our childhood gone. I guess we're growing up," you say a little wistfully.

"I guess so," he nods, stopping in front of the penguin pool, "I always like these guys. They seem so happy diving in the water, hanging out with their friends, and getting tasty fish."

You laugh and squeeze his hand. "The good life." you agree.

 A flustered dad with three crying children plows into the back of your heels with his stroller knocking you forward and mumbling apologies as he tries to get his children a spot to view the animals. "Are you alright," Steve asks, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you in front of him. 

"Yeah. I'm fine." He slips his other arm around you, and you relax into his strong chest. His breath is in your hair, and you're not really paying attention to the penguins anymore.

"I wasn't expecting it to be so big."

Steve blows out a breath and tilts his head to the side. "I get that a lot." Spinning to face him, your eyes widen, and your mouth hangs open. His cheeks blossomed apple red. "I mean not a lot. I've heard it…The sculptor. I'm talking about the sculptor," he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck, "Get your mind out of the gutter. Let's go." 

The Love sculpture stands impressively about twelve feet high with the serif letters of L and O stacked over the V and E, spreading its message to the visitors of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. Walking closer to the steel rendering, the poetry of feeling small in the face of the word that defines something that often feels too big to contain is not lost on you. A light breeze sweeps across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and you turn to look at the boy standing a few feet behind you, whose gaze brings about the same effect. 

"Now I know what love looks like." He's watching you with glittering eyes, and pieces of your heart break away, turning into butterflies that flutter inside you. Moving to where he waits for you, your fingers thread through his, and you wonder how you can be afraid to lose something that's not even yours. 

He's still holding your hand. Driving with the other, your intertwined hands resting on your thigh while he sings softly along with The Cars playing on the tape deck. Unlike earlier today, Steve hadn't stopped touching you as you toured the museum, his hand tangled with yours, an arm around your shoulders or waist, pressing against you with his soft lips grazing your temple and his thumb tracing patterns on any exposed skin it found.

An unspoken permission had been granted with your act of affection, one that you are now rescinding as you cross into Hawkins town limits. Your trembling fingers pull away from him as you rest your head against the car window and hug your arms across your chest to stave off the loss. His empty hand falls to your thigh, giving you one last squeeze before returning it to the steering wheel. 

The passing street lamps illuminate the dark roads on your way to Steve's house. Most streets are barren, the majority of the town already tucked safely into their homes at this late hour. Eddie's van is in the driveway when Steve pulls in and shuts off the car. 

"I had a really nice time today. Thank you." Your voice is shaky as you break the silence. 

He twists in his seat to face you. "I should be the one thanking you. You gave up your whole day for me." 

No stars are out tonight, and the moon is obscured by clouds. The inky blackness of night presses in on all sides. The only traces of light escape from gaps between the curtains covering the house's windows. The engine ticks as it cools, and neither one of you makes a move to go inside.

"Why does it feel like I'm saying goodbye to you?" Steve asks, his expression hidden in the darkness. 

"Steve, that's…we live in the same house." But you feel the same way. He leans in closer to you. And although you know you shouldn't, you mirror his movements. Your pulse is racing, and your breath comes quicker through your parted lips. Moments pass before you feel his touch, but it isn't what you expected. His forehead rests against yours, noses brushing, his warm exhales fanning your chin. Your decision is made, and you lift your chin to find his lips. The second before your mouths fully meet, he changes direction after the barest brush of his silky lips. His nose glides down along your cheek, and a low noise escapes his throat. 

"Go inside, sweet girl." He leans back in his seat and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Please. I'll be in a few."

With the fog of your longing dispelled, you scramble out of the car with the sting of unshed tears behind your eyes. You don't look back as you close the front door behind you. Your limbs feel heavier with every stair you climb, weighted down with the reality of what almost happened. Again. As you plaster on a smile before entering the room where you know Eddie is waiting, you promise yourself this will be the last time.

Part 5

Tag List @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven @tlclick73 @totally-bogus-timelady @katelyndestini95 @munsonswhore86 @kelsietilley-blog @figmentofquinn @champagne-glamour @ilovecupcakesandtea @bimbobaggins69 @munsonsgirl71 @sidthedollface2 @miarosso @micheledawn1975 @eddiescorrodedcoffin86 @takeitsteddie @tiannamortis @munsonology @manda-panda-monium @prestinalove @sunfl0wern1kk1 @pbeckn26 @yogizzz @justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @sllooney

[gemini-sensei]

Uhh I can't remember the exact post and now I'm mad, but you talking about Lawrence!Reader has me thinking about the post where Hawk and Miguel think Robby is dating a new girl and their pissed, but really it's just his sister.

I think we need to make a comeback post for that~😈

Sensei-Venus💕✨

@sensei-venus I don't even know where that is but yes. I remember bits of it and it was something like Hawk and Miguel thought he was trying to cheat, and that's why they were pissed. But still yes, need more of that. (Unedited thought dump)

Like, they see Robby with this girl all the freaking time and at first it's like, "oh cool, he's got a girlfriend," but slowly it becomes weirder as they realize Robby is also trying to get with Sam... 👀

And it seems like every time they see Robby with this girl, something happens. They're hugging or she's playing with his hair or he's giving her his jacket because of course she left her own at home.

But to Robby and Reader, that's just their sibling dynamic. She's a hugging type of person and Robby craves a lot of nurturing attention likebthat. She loves ruffling his hair and messing it up because he makes it all too easy for her to do. When he gives her his jacket, he's just looking out for her well being as a good older brother would.

However, Miguel and Hawk are sure that those two are dating and they don't know what to do. Hawk wants to, naturally, beat him up. Because even though he was acting all tough and said he wanted a "full rotation" of girls, Hawk is huge on loyalty and such a thing would never actually happen. So to see Robby, this supposed goof guy, two timing someone who looks so sweet and happy, upsets Hawk. He wants to tell her the truth.

Miguel wants to tell Sam. He wants her to see Robby isn't that great of a guy. Maybe that'll push her back into her arms if he's honest with her about what he's been seeing and learning about one Robby Keene.

Omg imagine Sam has met Reader though and they're fast friends. She knows Reader is Robbys sister so of course she knows there nothing to worry about...

But one day at the mall, Hawk sees Reader and decides to approach her. He starts with a seemingly casual introduction and as soon as he learns her name, he cuts to the point.

"Look, I'm just gonna come out and say it. That guy you've been seeing is a total asshole. He's trying to date some other girl out in Encino."

Reader looks at him confused and asks, "what guy? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about two timing Robby Keene."

"You did not just say that..."

"I did. I'm sorry to break it to you, but I just thought you deserved to know. A pretty girl like yourself-"

"He's my brother, you mohawkwd idiot!"

Whatever sweet demeanor she had before is gone and replaced with a rough and tough look of anger. For a moment, Hawk feels like he's seen that look before, and as the pieces fall into place - brother, that look, her quickness to anger - he realizes he's talking to Sensei's daughter.

"Oh shit!"

"Oh shit is right! What the hell is wrong with you? Do you just spend time spying on girls or something? What the fuck would make you think I was dating my own brother? Who even are you?"

She's mad. She's so fucking mad and Hawk doesn't know how to fix this. He just kind of stands there, frozen as she berates and badgers him for the mistake. She calls him a creep before telling him to watch himself because she knows karate-

"And if I ever catch you watching me again, I'll kick your ass so hard, you'll need more than a prayer to fix the damage."

She walks away in a huff and Hawk watches her go, red faced with a burning fire in his heart. He's never been so turned on in his whole life, but doesn't doubt the part about kicking his ass. Peek scared but horny.

Miguel gets a text that just reads: HOLY SHIT WERE IDIOTS THEYRE SIBLINGS!!!

And doesn't know what that references until he meets up with Hawk later, who recounts the incident to him.

Side note, but I totally see Reader and Robby has half siblings. They just don't care about the "half" part. Like, Reader lived with her mom primarily but forced Johnny to spend time with their daughter and that's why they're closer than Robby and Johnny are l, but it was never every weekend or something like that. It also put Robby in some awkward positions growing up and at one point he was jealous of her relationship with their dad, but then they started hanging out away from Johnny and that really made their bond stronger. Reader's mom and Shannon are cool and joke to each other all the time that the only good thing Johnny did for them was give them great kids (Shannon never struck me as the type to get petty about any other women in the lives of the guys she slept with. She's more the type to be friends with the other woman and take the guy down, imo at least lol). I don't know. This is just the lil backstop my brain came up with 😅

[ruelpsen]

heyyyy, it's writing anon :D sorry it took me so long but I do have some more salem/vesper shenanigans

enjoy!

"That's quite a few wrappers you got there."

Vesper looked up from his laptop to see his partner in the doorframe of the living room. He'd been slaving away, planning shifts for the upcoming week with what little staff he had on his hands. Honestly, with how focused he had been, the fae hadn't noticed how how much time had gone by. ... Or how much he'd eaten. It was all sugary stuff, he hadn't given entirely into his cravings for human food he knew for a fact he shouldn't eat but that didn't really seem to matter considering how stuffed he felt even in sweatpants.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I uh- urp oh god, sorry. Just got carried away here..." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly extremely aware of how full and bloated his belly was. Salem made their way over to the couch, shoving aside a few wrappers to make space to sit down." You've been working here for a while now, don't you think it's time to take a break?" Vesper put a hand on his swollen tummy, trying to ease some of the pressure.

"No, I just hic gotta finish this. Mh... Don't feel so g- uuuupoooorrrp good though..." He could feel himself turning red from embarrassment. "Sorry..." Salem though, could not look happier. "Oh darling, I think it is time for a break." They shut his laptop and put it on the coffee table before moving to straddle him. The human absolutely towered over him as it was but in this position, it was even mit obvious. "How about I help you a little with not feeling too good?"

Before he could respond, their hands replaced his on his belly but instead of rubbing, they pressed down on it. At first it was just a little, as if Salem was scouting out his stomach until they seemed to find something that interested them." I can feel the air moving in there... Well, I suppose that's what you get from always eating so fast. Lucky you have me.", they teased. Vesper frowned, wanting to respond something but instead when he opened his mouth, all that come out was a deep, sloppy belch that seemed to go on forever.

"Yeah, just like that honey. I bet you'll feel so much better when we get all that gas out your belly." His face was growing hot from embarrassment but his partner seemed more than happy about this whole situation. "I-I think you can stop with thaaaauuUUUOOOORRRRrrrp-" He cut himself off mid-sentence but what was way more jarring to him was the way Salem moaned at it.

In fact, it had caught him so off-guard that he didn't even have time to close his mouth before they leaned in to kiss him. His partner pressed down on his belly again, causing him to burp right into their mouth and only turning them on more with it. The human's hips twitched forward, grinding into his lap. Salem drew in a sharp breath as they pulled back, biting their lip sharply.

"Fuck... Sometime I'll need you to chug some soda and give me head, that'd be so hot...", they muttered half to themself. The fae was still felt himself burning up but he could barely focus on that with his partner looking so fucking horny. "I still can't believe this- hic- gets you going- Uuurrp-!"

They pressed down on his stomach again, listening to the belch trailing off into a moan of relief.

"Just let me enjoy this for a little, will you, sweetheart?"

Seeing this in my inbox made me so very happy! What an excellent followup to the first one you sent...

[gabenvrhappened]

MusicOr... Night Call by Years & Years

Favorite Lyrics (Sooner or Later): You're a heartbreaker, you'll be the death of me ⬩ Sooner or later, sooner or later ⬩ Love chaser, you're chasing it out of me ⬩ But I'm gonna break you, sooner or later you'll be mine;

Favorite Lyrics (Reflection): Walking to your house and I don't know why ⬩ Or if I'm gonna make it out alive ⬩ You put a spell on me ⬩⬩ I had too much too soon, spilled my ego on the floor ⬩ Then I picked it up and found myself at your door ⬩ You put a spell on me ⬩⬩ Now we can both pretend ⬩ That something's not happening ⬩ We could fall in love but we both know that's not happening ⬩ You're dancing by yourself inside your innocence ⬩ I could be your love but we both know that's not happening;

Favorite Lyrics (Consequences): Did I ever give a damn about the pain? ⬩ Did I ever really care who was to blame? ⬩ I was waiting for the moment you would change ⬩ But that moment never came ⬩ You're gonna have to suffer consequences;

Favorite Lyrics (Crave): The only thing I crave is the pain from you ⬩ I'll do anything to stay if you want me to ⬩ Baby, I don't ever wanna replace all the heartache ⬩ For a dream come true ⬩ The only thing I crave is the pain from you;

Every time I feel like coming back to feel like my old self, I get out of the house to walk a big avenue, no matter the country I'm in. That's what I did when I first came across Sooner or Later. Things in London are so crazy during the winter. When everything is good, it's so good. When it's not… So, this was one of those days I needed to remind myself of some things. So, I grabbed a ticket to watch The Holdovers at a movie theater on Regent Street and then walked around the surroundings when the session was over.

Nothing will cease to impress me of how incredible it is that everything that's buzzing in London is all connected, so soon enough, I was in Soho trying to get into a McDonald's because I just had too much to drink. For some reason, I didn't have my earphones on — which can be very uncharacteristic of me, but I think it was because I wanted to be open to something — and then I heard this song. Guess it worked.

It's been years and years (pun intended) since I connected with a Years & Years song. I still remember so clearly seeing the music video for King and falling in love with the band, back when I was in my first relationship. Years have passed, and I got myself hooked on a few songs, but never enough to make myself come back to check out new material. Everything changed when I heard this song and Shazamed it and saw the lyrics. I'm not gonna lie, I feel like an impostor by now singing these lyrics at the top of my lungs. Truth is, I don't feel like finding anything, and that thought is actually so scary (and just as much uncharacteristic of me) but it's just my truth right now. Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever find something, let alone if I'll ever search for it. I probably will, but now it just feels fake, as if it's just muscle memory, not desire.

That's just life, I guess. You kind of learn some lessons after hitting dead ends all the time. But still, it felt so good walking more and more until I got to Westminster with this song blasting in my earphones — which I decided to put back on because I just had to. I went home addicted to it, and drunk, and kind of ended my night on a low, but that's life as well. From that moment on, I felt like giving the Night Call album a chance, and, just like The Good Witch, it became my new go-to gym album. To be real, I feel like I'm becoming an album person because I also had Troye's Something to Give Each Other on replay from back to back.

Many songs stood out to me, and the whole album just goes so smoothly. Songs like Consequences and Crave are so incredible, and I'm ashamed of letting Starstruck pass me by because I remember when it was first released. But from all the songs, my new favorite one was Reflection. I adored the sexy reckless vibe it evokes, that I can escape but feel like I'm walking towards danger whenever I hear it. What's incredible is the connection this song has with Make It Out Alive. I love how the two of them are connected. I can close my eyes and see the guy Olly is singing about dancing by himself in a dark room only lit by a lamp, while he's sitting on the floor, high, watching his reflection on the wall.

When I came home from that night, drunk, all I wanted was to be at someone else's door feeling like I shouldn't. I tried, but failed. So like he sings in Intimacy, "I'm not one for casual intimacy, maybe one day something will change in me" but as of now, I'm trying to remind myself who I am and, whenever I feel like coming back to my old self, I'll take a night walk out and hope to fall in love. With another song I never knew I was missing.

[n0resistance]

truth on pursuing dreams

I knew someone who wanted to be a dancer when she grew up. She was really good but when she expressed her desire and didn't get the feedback she wanted it led to her giving up. She didn't get the support at all to do it. Same kind of thing when she was interested in doing hair and makeup for a living. Just negative remarks that weren't true. That she wouldn't make money out of it, that she should do something practical, and she was heartbroken. I know money is important but it's not everything. I think your happiness is everything and money is just a portion of it.

    I really didn't enjoy business school. I enjoyed other aspects of college. Moving to New York, studying art in Italy, literature courses as electives, finding my community in a sorority, interning at a luxury hotel on wall street, and being a hostess at a restaurant for money. Living on my own and finally being independent enough to make my own choices. I chose to study practical things to get all of those other things. I live unconventionally to have flexibility and minimal stress.

   I prioritize my home, my boyfriend, my health (eating and sleeping), yoga, therapy, family and my art. Being an artist is cool. Especially an actress/ filmmaker who writes blogs as well as scripts. It's not boring, you have to collaborate, put yourself out there, and my favorite part about it is when I had depression, a breakup, or when my dog died; the only thing that made me feel better was having a show. Not writing or doing anything in solitude. Having a deadline for a finished product and showing an audience. Up until that moment working so hard to get my show up there. I like high stakes and the thrill of it all.

    I've realized being an artist is a lifelong journey. I do have other jobs, but my main thing is films and plays and events that showcase well myself. The more I do it, the more support I get, and I love living in New York where I don't feel like a weirdo for that being my main desire. 

    I promote people pursuing their dreams but my reality isn't that dream most people believe you get when your direct a movie. You're gonna make it. You're gonna be famous, make so much money, who gets to work on the coolest projects, and travels to the best places to do it. Even though that is the goal in the end. I'm not a famous person but I do have a reputation of being an artist, I've made some money, worked on cool projects, and have traveled because I set up my life to do that for myself. I travel to travel and work on art to work on art. 

    Pursuing your dreams gives you purpose and makes you want to take care of yourself. You cook, you sleep enough, you work on things that interest you, and you meet the coolest people along the way. You never regret doing it. I think because I prioritize my passions I just want to keep doing self work. Higher my consciousness so I could higher everyone else's. 

    It's all about habits and making yourself happy. If you make yourself happy other people want to be around you. You won't fight with your partner. If you prioritize art it really means you're prioritizing yourself. Not the day job that pays your bills but can replace you as soon as you leave, not people pleasing everyone, but helping yourself. You don't feel the need to hoard because things don't make you happy, you crave experiences to write about them, and you want to maintain your life and independence. 

    So there are benefits to making your own films and writing your own plays. Sacrificing time and money to make them come alive. There are benefits of living in the moment. If I could talk to every person that I knew who threw their dream away, I'd say please make time for the thing that you believe will make you happy. It will repay you in the end. Who cares what people think, it's your life you're living. The suffering from turning your back on it is detrimental. 

    You'll find your way to make money, to keep it up, to keep a flexible schedule, all so you can breathe and create something beautiful. If I was poor or had all the money in the world I'd be doing the same thing just in a different style. I hope to keep pursuing it for the rest of my life and maybe one day I'll get lucky. I've already reaped  rewards since trying at this for 8 years. This is also a thing that teaches you so much. 

   You learn in this specific art to get your thoughts on paper, to collaborate with people, how to fund it, how to budget, call sheets, rehearsals, and it really is the most exciting thing you’ll ever do. For this I am thankful. Will try my hardest to make work that is true to me. Survive life in the process. I feel if I didn’t have it, my entire existence would feel like survival, not just a portion of it.

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO NEFE COSMIA, MUU KUSUNOKI. 🌓

ꕥ  — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: mary age: 20+ pronouns: he/she ooc contact: memelt_snail @ twitter other characters in xc: tiphereth

ꕥ  — IC INFORMATION;

name: muu kusunoki age: 16 pronouns: she / he series: milgram canon point: at the second trial, up to date content warnings: bullying, murder, suicidal ideation, suicide baiting.

personality: pain, pain, go away — mantra, repeat :  until my heart breaks. ( it still hurts. )

an immature mirror-image in the shape of a young girl, wearing a theatre-goer's mask that she deems appropriate for the current situation — simple-minded, someone who craves love and attention no matter the cost. easy to scare to obedience … to easy to validate to overconfidence, a scale too delicate to tip over to one edge or another, an extreme waiting for it's turn.

infant queen bee — blunt, honest, naive. fed so much ideological honey that she burst into the creature she is now. a girl who was spoiled ever since the day she was born who grew up into an entitled person who knows nothing more beyond getting what she wants. an unfortunate worldview coddled by her peers and family.

and here :  a note of importance. muu can't stand— hates pain.

any pain : emotional, physical. she'll bury herself deep in denial, she'll do anything as long as it stops and everything goes back to her perception of normal, as shattered as it may be. push down the agony, lest you feel it ever again. bury it deep, until you forget about how much it hurt that day. control, control, release — desperately safe, another's ego is her shield.

the true core hidden behind mille-layers of false cream. the loved will meet no harm and instead be showered in love : what's the point in being genuine, then? even if this chrysalis means tossing

people away or giving in to impulse … what comes above all is herself. ——— 'all i have to do is gain your favour, right? i'm sorry, i said i was sorry.' repeat, recite : it's not my fault. perhaps, one day, you'll believe.

something your muse struggles with: impulsive and emotional, to the point of extremes. ( + whiny )

your muse’s greatest strength: obedient, listens to what she's told — even if there's a complaint, here and there. she's also generous … in her own way? most likely. 

history / background:

papa is kind, mama generous.  i want to be like them, one day.

a silver spoon on her tongue isn't a fair replacement for the warmth of a cradle. muu may have it all but one : the presence of those that she needed most an empty canvas through her youth. warmth was a foreign idea, only words half-meant and half-said.

gifts and allowance see her doorstep more than her parents ever did. it's not like they didn't love her, it's just that there was no time.

——— so, tell me :  why?

school was full of scary people  —  words that tasted like the bitter cold medicine she swallowed one humid summer night. foreigner, cry the stares of her classmates. prideful, vain, stupid-looking.

to her, companionship was considered a world so unreal. it is a strange, foreign place that she never viewed as something material, but high-school was fast to prove that it is. her classmates — they hover over her like drunk bees on ripened fruit :  you use me, i use you. isn't it great - a benefactory relationship?

this wasn't always the case. once, there was rei — a girl who sat next to her in class, a girl who saw her as she is and not for the gifts and money and unusual features. … was she genuine? those days were warm, like the morning sun — nostalgic, quiet paradise where it was only rei and muu tailing at her like a lost, pathetic puppy. that was the only thing she was sure of. then, the swarm comes. the girls that would stare at rei with disdain in their eyes approach her with honeyed smiles. the temptation of sickly-sweet royal jelly offered up begs for her to take it ; a fleeting bite. then, she's falling.

——— but, maybe…

in hushed tones, they whisper to her of what friendship truly is :  give, then we'll give back to you. companionship like this is friendship. it's not exploitation if anyone benefits, don't you agree? ' what rei and i did was nothing, then? ' they insist so. if they say so, it must be right.

rei sees her laughing with them and a flash of hurt and worry is in her eyes. her— rei's expression is far from placid as she approaches her and talks to her again : a warning, she says. muu dismissed her with a scoff. she's just jealous of her new friends. is that it? that's it. she hates her, she hates her being happy. fine, she'll forget about her and everything, then.

——— hey, tell me.

one day, the world as she knew it changed. her friends that would be by her side are now against her. why? what did she do? she did nothing wrong — she has never done something wrong, she's never laid a hand on anyone else, all she did was speak and give gifts and look pretty. and yet, she apologises. they keep pushing her down, even as she begs for them to step. it's lonely. no more warmth.

the honey has dried up, and the half-born queen is starving. she sees rei and approaches her with an apology-- ——— even if… 

' please rethink this, please forgive me — i'm sorry, i said i am! ' ' why are you looking away — i thought we were… friends? we're friends. ' ' you should accept that i'm sorry — then, i'll accept that you are, too. why? ' the way rei casts her gaze towards her was so cold. there was no regret on her features, only deafening silence. is this how it feels, to be a living corpse? …at least it will be over, soon.

lately, she always considered herself to be one foot in the grave. then, the world she knew as changed became shattered, the very moment rei ripped her arm away from her shaking hands. her cries of help and pity fell on deafened ears — ' hey, rei… look. please, don't let go… ' she begged for her to stop, as she brought out the box cutter from her pocket. her words felt like bile on her throat. sunset's fading light downcast. ' do you really not care for me? fine, i'll— you know what i want to do, right? why are you going away? fine, i'll stab myself. i'll stab myself right now… i mean it, you did this. '

( the way you look at me. it's so cold, now. … i can't take it, please— look at me. look at me! )

her body, her instincts — at that very moment, they were nothing more but a desperate mechanism. she saw nothing but red, as she lunged towards rei with a desperate scream. an already fragile hold on her emotions made more apparent as she lashes out — that very same boxcutter that she used to threaten herself with was now plunged into the other's torso.

when she came to, she was breathing heavily, clutching her weapon now drenched in blood. desperation and rage were now brushed over : replaced by pure regret and agony. she would say that she's sorry, but perhaps she was not? …rei was the one that hurt her first. that's it. it's simply … revenge. a fitting punishment for a girl who always acted like the heroine.

i'll decorate your corpse with flowers and egotism. was this her favourite — white lillies?

in the coming days, rumors start to circulate around the school : ' ah, i've heard that kusunoki killed someone. that poverty-stricken girl. ' ' … oh? that's horrifying, actually. it's good that we stayed away. ' ' i knew that she was volatile from the very start! '

when a monarch starts to become reprehensible, what is left to do other than to get rid of her?

…

she wakes up in a plane so frightening, sterile and cold surrounded by others like her: murderers. who wouldn't be frightened in a situation like this? yet, she was forgiven.

then whispers began to start. it wasn't your fault, you poor thing. was it painful? ( … that's right. it's not my fault. it was never my fault in the first place, i'm faultless. )

lies layered on like her favourite dessert. a sweet cream to protect her fragile heart already at the risk of breaking, elevated to a mask of non-concern. her misery will eat her alive, if she didn't.

—

sometimes, i still see her in my dreams… i still see rei. i would never forget her name, you know. there's the way she stares at me. standing in the distance. drenched in stagnant water. watching. maybe she's angry. she haunts me — bound to me and my fate, herself and her image.

powers / abilities: n/a

inherent abilities: n/a

items / weapons:

an orange boxcutter that almost appears yellow in the sunlight. a reminder of torment and guilt. her already present discomfort with sharp objects made stronger by the memory.

starting ability: n/a

starting item: the boxcutter. 😀 she'll probably throw it in a ditch right away, but you know.

extra: you made it. happy birthday!

everything is subjective and prone to change. as is the nature of milgram. t3 & more could change what i have written down to the foundation — guesswork is fun. nothing is "complete" until you make it so.

summertime in the north hemisphere is ending soon, it's slightly nostalgic, from the smell of fresh grass and the warm light of sunset … it's a feeling i wanted to portray with this application. a large amount of what i wrote is personal theory crafted by personal feeling. i'm sorry. ( pien ↑↑ )

" isn't friendship supposed to be all about letting them do what they want? it's only beneficial for each other, isn't it? " tread with caution with this one.

16 year olds are scary creatures. i'm scared, i'm scared.

discord id: lovemedont

[love-toxin]

"#ill also never be allowed to have his pick necklace bc that shit will be IN my mouth in seconds #im dog eating something they shouldn't kin"

thatd just give him more reason to find a way to keep ur mouth occupied

AH....eheh......wrow.......u anons really know how to grab me by the throat, huh? 🥵

n-not.....Eddie having to keep an eye on you with any of his necklaces because he knows you'll put them in your mouth, and that's not the problem--it's really cute, actually. the problem is that he keeps having to replace little bits on said jewellery or get a new cord for them because you keep wearing them out, but he won't let you say sorry even though you feel bad because he let you borrow them, and he knows it's just a habit and that it's good for you in the long run.

but the other problem is bigger, more severe, more....distracting. it's that whenever he sees you working something around in your mouth, especially if it's something of his, he can't get the image out of his mind and can't stop it from getting dirtier and dirtier as it flourishes in his brain. it'd be better if he could just give you something else to play with, something that would give you some semblance of challenge and would satisfy that craving of yours to let your tongue fiddle with something stiff.

so he just has to let his leg bounce absentmindedly under the picnic table you sometimes steal away to for some snack time, his chin in his hand as he watches you scribble over some notes you made in class with one hand and suck on his pick necklace with the other. wondering whether or not you're gonna notice how flushed he is, how jumped up, because he's just seconds away from jumping you. and when you finally look up at him with those doe eyes, cock your head, and smile with his pick between your teeth, it's all over. he leans in, brown eyes noticeably darker, and points to the ground with a one word command. "kneel." and you scramble to obey it, ducking underneath the table and hurrying to shuffle up between his legs, head dipped low to keep from scraping it against the tabletop. Eddie mumbles some halfhearted explanation "need to keep your mouth busy, kay?" and you take it, too preoccupied with undoing his zipper and taking in the fact that he's so hard, and he was keeping it hidden for a while without telling you. but when you get him opened up and he pushes down on his boxers to let his cock spring out, tip already leaking with precum from watching you fiddle with his necklace, you swipe your tongue up his slit to get a taste before sinking down low and taking him in until he bumps the back of your throat. and then he goes even deeper, hand grasping the back of your head and his fingers twining themselves into your hair as he moans out a soft "fuuuuuck...just like that, just...keep yourself entertained with that, mkay?"

you're already slopping all over it with spit, making him nice and wet enough to slide along your cushy throat with little resistance, and it is comforting in a sense. Eddie's warm and thick in your mouth, pins your tongue down to uselessly wriggle against the underside of his shaft, and you have to brace yourself against his thighs to reduce the amount of gagging you do. it's a nice feeling, a reassuring feeling, and slowly your anxieties just kind of float away as Eddie sits back and holds your head down on his dick, hoping and praying that your throat doesn't keep flexing so much and stroking the fat end of his tip, so he won't cum so soon and leave you wanting more again. although, knowing you, once you get something good to stim with you won't let it go for anything--so maybe this "alternative" will turn out to be a blessing he only dreamed of.

[voidsnarrator]

This is my second time ever writing a songfic, so I hope it's good!!!

I LOVE this song, it's been stuck in my head ALL WEEK, and it just made me think SO HARD of Author/Host who's in a relationship and JUST WOW IT HURTS HUH

Yea anyways I hope you'll like this !!! :D

[Listen to the song here]

~

Waking up in shades of blue

I don’t know where I am or how I got to you

Try to reach out but I can’t move

I’m like a broken instrument, so out of tune

Oh woah

The bed was soft beneath him, the same bed he had slept in for years. The same bed he's been sharing with his love for so long. He was facing the sleeping man next to him, his forever blinded gaze lingering on the soft features of the other. His narrations spoke of the soft skin, the rounded cheeks. Slightly parted lips, a little chapped, thin and able to form the cutest smile. Brown messy locks hanging into his face, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber. Host craved to reach out to him, to know he was real and here with him. He knew he was. He knew the other was right there. The dip in the mattress, the gentle sound of breathing. He was there, and yet, he felt a million miles away from Host.

Why won’t they listen to me anyway?

I want to be and I’m not gonna say I’m sorry

Just so you’ll let me stay, no

Whatever you think of me, leave it alone

I don’t wanna live in the shade of her throne

When he had first come to the others, he had tried. He wasn't the Author anymore, he wasn't the same person anymore. He wasn't the same violent murderous man, killing innocent people for his own sick and twisted amusement. Why didn't they listen to him? Why did they not let him explain? They cast dirty looks his way, cursing him beneath their breath. Not calling him Host, not caring what had happened to him. They expected an apology, for Host to beg for forgiveness for all that he has done.

He quickly decided it didn't matter to him. He wouldn't apologize for past actions he didn't feel connected to. What did it matter what they thought of him anyways? It didn't. He had never needed them as the Author, and he wouldn't be needing them as the Host either. Returning to his cabin in the woods, forever stained in the Author's blood, the place he had called a home for years and years. He was the Host, now. The Author was dead, and it didn't matter anymore. Not to him, at least. He would not mourn who he once was, because he had died cold and alone, thoughts of the person he loved swimming through his mind. Until the Host was born, replacing Author. The same, but different.

I keep hearing pieces of a melody

Playing in my head

Fragments of a past that it won’t let me forget

Someone that I used to be hanging on a thread

A blurry silhouette

I wonder…

If Host had to describe himself, he would say that he was a mosaic. The picture that had once been Author, shattered into pieces, just to be put together in a new fashion. The Author had always loved coffee. He had always used sugar, never milk. He still didn't add milk, though he added more sugar than before. He liked his coffee sickeningly sweet. The Author had tortured his characters, and broken them mentally just like he had physically. Doing so simply for his own amusement, writing books to turn a profit he didn't really need. Host still took great pleasure in torturing characters. But now, the characters were fictional -and if not, they deserved their fate. The Author had fallen in love with the cute doctor looking after his injuries. The gentle smile, the cute exasperated sigh when Author didn't look after himself. The bright and loud laugh, the silly puns the doctor enjoyed so much. The Host loved him the same. He loved his chubby belly, his extremely soft hands, the way he always took such gentle care of him.

In his dreams, he'd see the Author. Nothing but a blurry silhouette, something he used to be, still hanging on by a thread. He was still there, and always would be, because the Host is the Author, no matter what he does. It's him, and he can never forget that. No matter how hard he tries to deny it, that those golden eyes haunting him were not his own.

When you look at me who do you remember?

Broken memories, time we spent together

Tell me honestly

Do you recognize my voice?

VOICE

Host was watching Edward, sitting at the kitchen table as the other made them coffee. He mumbled his narrations to himself, watching as Edward put milk and sugar into his own cup, before putting sugar into Host's. It was the perfect cup -for the Author. He accepted the cup with a smile, hiding the pain he felt in his chest. Edward's gaze never settled on his face anymore. Host stayed quiet, letting Edward talk about work, not muttering a word of narrations. He knew how Edward's brows would furrow, a crease forming on his forehead. He knew how Edward would glance at his bandages, before looking away. He knew how his hands would grip his cup tight, how his jaw would clench.

“I love you”, the Host would say, giving Edward a kiss as the man got ready to leave. His voice was soft-spoken, his hand gentle on Edward's cheek. He'd smile, gentle and loving, and think of all the time the Author had not seen Edward off for work. All the times Author would kiss Edward hard, demanding, holding him tight and unwilling to let him leave. “I love you too”, Edward would say, his eyes not looking at Host's face. He'd give him a smile, maybe he'd take his hand and give it a kiss. “Don't overwork yourself.”, he'd tease him, and Host would feel the pang in his chest. He'd huff, gently nudging Edward, assuring him he won't while Edward left. Thinking of the times Author would laugh, the times Author would have rolled his eyes, the times Author would give a cheeky grin and say “no promises”.

Sometimes, Host wondered if Edward still saw the Author. If he lived in a delusion, telling himself Host was still the Author, was still the same selfish man he once had been. Sometimes, Host wondered if Edward even recognized his voice.

Thin air, so hard to breathe

The wall that I’m facing is just too cold and too lonely

Wish that I still can feel

Still can feel the things that back then I used to fear

All I ever wanted was to be accepted by you

Wish that you and I still

laugh and say that someday we will

Sitting alone in his study, his old writing desk long since converted for his radio show, the Host would stare at the wall in front of him with an empty feeling in his chest. He couldn't help but miss what he once had had. He couldn't help miss Edward, miss his gentle touch, miss his soft kisses. He missed when Edward would look at him, and see him. In those moments, he wished he was still scared and confused about romance. That he didn't know what romantic attraction felt like, the weird stutters of his heart when Edward smiled at him, the incredibly light feeling when Edward would laugh. The confusing conflicting emotions when Author thought of Edward's gentle nature, while Author was torturing others so cruelly.

He's only ever wanted Edward to love him, and accept him as he was. He wanted Edward to love the Host, and not Author. He wanted Edward to want him like he had wanted Author. To need him like he needed Author. To hold him close, to tell him he loves him, fantasizing about their future together. It was too much to ask for though, wasn't it? To hope that someday they would laugh together, be in each other's arms. To be what they had been, once.

Why won’t you listen to me anyway?

I’m gonna be and I’m not gonna say I’m sorry

Just to save face

Whatever you think of me, leave it alone

I don’t wanna live in the shade of her throne, oh

He tried to talk to Edward. “The Host is not the Author!”. He was desperate, he was in pain, crying his bloody tears as Edward refused to listen to him. Refused to accept the reality they were living in -that the Author was gone, dead, and only Host remained. That yes, he had once been that man. But he no longer was, and he wanted Edward to know, to see, to accept. “You do not love the Host. You love who he was, you love the man who is gone. You do not care for me.”. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, and still he said it. Still, he cried, he yelled, he clenched his hands into the shirt on his chest, shaking as he spoke words he didn't want to be true. “You're mourning me, and yet, here I am.”. His voice, tiny, broken, hurt.

Edward did not look at him. He did not face the Host, he did not glance even vaguely in his direction. He left.

I keep hearing pieces of a melody

Playing in my head

Fragments of a past that it won’t let me forget

Someone that I used to be hanging on a thread

A blurry silhouette

I wonder…

His fingers moved over ink-stained pages, tracing the shapes of letters even he himself couldn't always read. Nothing he had ever written had he discarded. It was all still here, journals stuffed full with words, pages stained with ink and blood. The Author was in every inch of the cabin. The many ink and blood stains, forever staining the wood of the cabin and its furniture. The still broken door, unable to stay closed no matter what you tried. The collection of books in so many shelves. The heavy lighter from the time he used to smoke. The countless black button ups, and various jeans. Everywhere, he remained, his presence lingering. A constant reminder. You are him. You were the Author. He is you. No matter how much Host's appearance changed, it was never enough. Host was the Author, the Author was the Host. No matter what he tried, how long his hair grew, how much he hid his body in too large clothes. The Host was unmistakably Author, forever.

When you look at me who do you remember?

Broken memories, time we spent together

Tell me honestly

Do you recognize my voice?

VOICE

Edward would often make coffee for Author when he was so focused on writing. Would bring him a freshly brewed cup, would remind him to take a break. He'd make sure he would eat, and would eventually take his hand to gently guide him to bed. Edward would often ask Author for a hug, never needing words. Letting the taller man embrace him, hold him close. Author's hand running through Edward's hair, gently holding him, Edward's head resting against Author's chest. It never mattered why he sought out a quiet hug, because Author would be there for him. “I love you”, Edward would tell Author, and it would never fail to fluster him, to throw him off-track. It effectively shut Author up no matter what he was saying, always taken by surprise when Edward said those words so freely.

“I love you”, Host said it as softly as Author did. He smiled the same gentle smile, would hold the same hands so gingerly in his own. Would give the same soft squeeze, lifting those hands to press a feather-light kiss to their knuckles, the same as Author would. It was still him, he was still that same man, even when he tried not to be. Still, Host didn't think Edward knew the difference. He didn't think Edward loved the Host as he loved the Author. The man was chasing after someone long gone, someone who would never come back.

It looks so off to me

The picture you paint of us

I don’t need to remember

Let me be, take me just as I am

When Edward spoke of the two of them, it left a bad taste in Host's mouth. Often, Edward would talk as if he was talking to Author. Like he was imagining the Author when he planned dates, like he was thinking of Author when he got gifts. Host knew the man was hurting. He knew Edward was grieving Author, was denying that it was now Host, not accepting what had happened. He knew, and it felt horrible. All Host wanted was to be loved by Edward. To hear his name fall from the lips he wanted to feel against his own again and again. To be looked at with the same love and adoration that Edward had once given Author. It wasn't that much to wish for, was it`? To just be loved like he was now?

As everything disappears

I shout to heavens above

Please let him be. Please love him. Please accept who he is. He wanted nothing else. He only wanted his partner back, with him, for him. He just wanted to be his own person, to not be the Author. He wanted to be the Host, because that was who he was now. Just let him be. Just accept him. Please, please, please.

Bloody tears soaking into his bandages as he sobs, as he tears at his shirt, grips his hair tightly, sobbing and screaming. He was hurting, all he wanted was to be himself , and no one wanted that. No one accepted him, no one liked him, no one wanted him. The only thing that mattered was Author, and he was gone. But no one saw it like that.

Let me be, take me just as I am yeah…

Let me be, take me just as I am yeah…

I keep hearing pieces of a melody

Playing in my head

Fragments of a past that it won’t let me forget

Someone that I used to be hanging on a thread

A blurry silhouette

I wonder…

When you look at me who do you remember?

Broken memories, time we spent together

Tell me honestly

Do you think that I could ever find a voice to call my own?

Maybe one day, the Host would be accepted. He would have Edward's gaze on his, smiling at him like he would at Author in the past. He'd tell him he loved him, and Host would reply with a smile and a kiss, echoing his words to him. One day, Host would be able to speak with Edward, and the man would not hear the Author anymore.

VOICE, VOICE

VOICE, VOICE

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚘

Disclaimer: In no way am I trying to condone, justify, encourage, promote nor romanticize Yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, possessive/obsessive behavior, stalking, kidnapping, physical aggression, sexual harassment (not from reader/member's side), domestic violence, sexual scenes, brief mention of contemplated abortion, hints of post-partum depression, attempted murder, actual murder, death.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝙹𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚑𝚘

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟸𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟶𝟶

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟼 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟿 𝙵𝚃

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□90%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚢.

𝚁𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜.

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍.

𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You were such a small and fragile thing....of course it was his duty to protect you.

From the very day he watched you walk down the stairs from the university.

You were carrying so many books and folders, you failed to notice the skateboard some idiot left there.

Jongho was there just in time to prevent you from falling and hitting your head.

As he looked into your eyes, he felt a strange feeling rising in his chest.

"Are you ok?" He looked you all over, making sure you weren't hurt.

Your face was no doubt red, both at being flustered by Jongho's handsome face and his strong arms holding you.

And from embarrassment cause you're a clumsy fool.

"Yeah... thanks."

Jongho was sweet enough to gather all of your things, handing them back to you with the most adorable gummy smile that had you melting.

"See you around." He sent you a wink and picked up the skateboard, knowing fully well who it belonged to.

He came in class and made his way over to his desk, but not before bonking the person next to him with the skateboard.

"What the fuck man?!" The guy took off his beanie and soothed the hurt spot.

"Stop leaving your trash at random places Yeosang."

He grumbled as he took his seat, but for the rest of the day, he couldn't concentrate on anything that wasn't you.

And it was like that for the rest of the semester .

Jongho was constantly checking up on you whenever he could.

Making sure you were ok and not getting hurt.

Of course.....you never knew about this.

Never noticed him lurking around in the shadows whenever you went home nor when you were doing the most ordinary things in life.

You just kept going on with your daily routine, not noticing the pair of eyes following you, or as he liked to call it:

Watch over you.

Jongho made it his personal mission to protect you, and he did that in several ways.

Whenever someone would trip you in the hallways, he'd end up slamming them onto their lockers.

If any guy decided to try and cat call you or flirt with you, they were met with a punch to their gut.

But the worse? The worse came during the middle of the year.

One of your professors started creeping you out.

He would often pat your back, telling you how well you did on your test or presentations.

But his hand would be too low than what you felt comfortable with.

You often just shimmied out of his touch and just smiled awkwardly, while walking out of there as fast as you could.

Or he'd often leave notes on your returned homework and offer you candy, which you adamantly refused.

It all culminated when your professors overstepped all boundaries when he asked to speak to you one day after class.

You were of course already nervous.

Jongho on the other hand, was clenching his fist so tightly, blood was slightly drawn from his nails digging into his palm.

He had to watch as the professor practically pressed you up against the wall.

You shoved him away and got out of there as fast as you could, with all intention of telling the school board what happened.

Until the professor threatened to purposefully fail you if you didn't accept his advances.

Jongho merely scoffed.

He stayed long enough to make sure you made it home safely.

Then he decided to go hunting for a certain bastard.

Taking advantage of the dark of night, he covered his face with a mask and wore dark clothing.

Easily breaking into the man's house, he took him by surprise before proceeding to use his bare fists to beat the shit out of him.

Jongho really wanted to kill him at the moment, but held himself back.

He wanted to get his point across and he was going to get it.

Leaving him bleeding profusely, his breathing raspy, Jongho gave him one warning:

"Y/N is mine. Stay the fuck away from her or I'll really kill you next time."

It worked because the professor soon left his resignation letter, not wanting to face of whoever it was that was watching over you.

Jongho felt proud of himself for getting him away from you.

But then guilt started to eat him alive.

If only he'd taken better care of you, this would have never happened.

Out there, all alone in the world........you were so vulnerable and defenseless.

He had to do something about it.

One night while you were fast asleep, he came inside your house.

He thank the heavens you were a heavy sleeper, otherwise he'd have a lot of trouble.

But he managed to transport you back to his house.

He gently laid you down on the bed, admiring your sleeping figure.

He felt giddy at the thought of finally having you all to himself that he hardly got any sleep.

You on the other hand woke up terrified when you found yourself in a strange room.

Jongho came inside, completely calm, fully expecting you to freak out at first.

"Shh. It's ok love. You're safe now."

He tried to caress your face, but it just startled you more and it annoyed him.

"Baby....I'm not going to hurt you." He said, his voice had a stern tone to it underneath.

You tried to make a dash for the door, but he quickly got ahold of you.

He trapped you in his large arms but still you tried to get away.

"Let me go! Let go of me!" You tried kicking your feet.

But Jongho was not budging at all.

"No! You can't go back out there again! You'll be hurt by other people."

He turned you so you were now facing him.

"I'm here to protect you..." He slowly leaned in, trying to kiss you.

Instead he was met with you kneeing him on his crotch. He doubled over in pain, but managed to compose himself quickly.

He rushed over to you before you reached the front door, pulling you by the hair and shoving you against the wall.

You hit your head pretty hard and felt something trickling down.

"Oh no babygirl." Jongho suddenly turned all loving again, like he wasn't just going ballistic seconds ago.

"See? This is what I mean. Out there.....you could get hurt even more."

You couldn't understand his reasoning.

And you couldn't understand why he wouldn't let you go out at all.

"You don't need to go out. You're safe here with me."

He kept trying to be affectionate with you, but you always refused, not wanting him near you.

He tried being nice to you all the time, but more often than not, you lashed out at him, absolutely despising him.

Jongho would usually have patience with you, but when you crossed the line and tested his patience......

You ended up with a bruise on your face or a bloody nose.

Of course, he'd always seem shocked with himself, immediately attending to your wounds and apologizing over and over again.

You were getting so sick of it. You actually felt like you were going insane.

You missed your parents, family, your friends, you were craving warmth and affection so badly you started freaking out and nearly had an anxiety attack.

You felt so out of mind you actually let Jongho hold you, caress you, comfort you while you sobbed in his chest.

"Baby. It's ok. I'm here. You're safe."

You don't know what came over you, you just knew you wanted to feel something, anything other than the emptiness and pain you were feeling.

Even Jongho was surprised when you kissed him desperately, but he didn't mind. He finally got to kiss you.

He had enough conscience to pull away though when you began getting more handsy and straddling him.

"Are you sure about this?"

When you simply whined and pulled him on top of you, he got the hint.

You didn't care if it was wrong, you just let Jongho take your pain away and replace it with immense pleasure.

You loved how strong he was, loved the way his thick cock kept pushing inside of you and enjoyed those blissful moments his body offered you.

Jongho was in heaven as well. He had waiting for the day to finally make love to you and it came.

Jongho swore it was love, you just thought of it as a distraction.

A distraction you needed to stop when you skipped not 1, but 2 months, which you were scared of.

Jongho however was happy. "You mean we're going to have a baby?"

The color drained from your face as you sternly said. "No! We're not having a baby Jongho! We can't! We have to get rid of it!

He wasn't having it though. Jongho couldn't let you get rid of the product of your guys' love.

So as cruel as it was, he kept you chained to the bed, refusing to let you get out in fear of you harming yourself or the baby, his baby.

Your pregnancy months were hell to you and during childbirth you were almost dying.

It was the only time Jongho got you out of the house in over a year but you had no strength to say anything about your situation.

You were in too much pain and fear at the thought of getting a c-section because the baby came 2 months earlier than expected.

You woke up and still felt weak, had no will to do anything but allow the nurses to take care of you and have Jongho by your side, praising you and your guys' baby, which you honestly did not really care for.

You felt so detached from your own child, even though you knew it wasn't her fault.

You two went home after the doctors deemed your baby healthy enough.

Jongho was ecstatic about starting a family life with you and was even more attentive to you and the baby.

You on the other hand came to resent her crying at night, hated having to feed her and detested hearing Jongho speak so fondly of her.

There were times you did feel bad, and you actually held her, feeling something warm for the tiny girl.

But then it would all vanish when you saw Jongho hovering over you and fixing what he deemed was your 'bad way of holding her.'

He was still as overprotective as ever and you were reaching your breaking point.

One day, while he was gone for a minute, the baby started crying.

You covered your head with the pillow, trying to muffle out her sounds but you couldn't.

You snapped and had no control over yourself as you went to the bathroom and began filling the tub with water.

Once it was filled, you mindlessly brought the baby over and held her over it, but before you could drop her:

"Y/N what are you doing?!"

Jongho took the baby away from you, calming her down and putting her back in her crib.

When he turned his attention back to you, you were nowhere to be found and he started panicking.

He was walking down the hallway when you lunged at you, finally hitting your breaking point as you stabbed his arm with a knife, that although stunned him, didn't really cause much damage.

"Y/N! Have you gone insane?!" He tried to calm you down, but it was in vain.

You looked at him with such wrath and resentment as you stated "I hate you!"

It hurt Jongho so much to hear you say that, but nonetheless he wasn't going to back down even if you were currently clawing at him and trying to end him.

Jongho tried not to use much of his strength but you were going to far, he had to subdue you somehow and he was already angry that you tried to murder your own child.

His hands ended up griping your neck very harshly, forcing you to let go off him as you now struggled to pry his hands off you.

Jongho didn't mean to take things too far, he just wanted to control you for a brief moment......

But it did go too far and now he was a sobbing and heartbroken mess.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I just killed my soulmate... ....."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[wastelandcth]

Better Love - cth

part two: the wild and us

summary: Maeve and Calum meet. The rain outside puts on a show. 

author’s notes: I hope you guys enjoyed the first part of this series! This part had one of my favorite scenes I’ve ever written so I hope you enjoy! 

warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of breakups, mentions of food. 

masterlist || request || join my taglist! 

part one

Staring in the blackness at some distant star The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are To the wild and to the both of us

"What are you doing in my hotel?" she asked shakily, her wariness prevalent in the way her voice shook as she stared at the man in front of her. 

The towel she was pulling closer to her body felt like nothing in the room with him. Maeve, who had only made it  back to the cabin an hour prior, had expected to be alone. She'd hadn't expected to walk out of her shower to find a tall man sleeping in the bed she'd rented out for the week. She also hadn't expected the rainstorm to be so bad, her weather app claiming her entire week here would be sunny and perfect for hiking, so finding a man in her cabin hadn't been in her plans either. 

And wow was he a sight for sore eyes. 

"What are you doing in my cottage?" he asked, Maeve's eyebrow raising as she heard the trace of an accent, "Mrs. Bagby rented this place out to me, she never said there was someone already staying here," he huffed, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied Maeve's. 

"Mrs. Bagby? Who the hell is Mrs. Bagby? I'm renting this from Mrs. Baird," Maeve said, "I was here first! You're the intruder!"

Maeve, who had always been prepared to debate with anyone, was not backing down no matter how exposed she was in front of a handsome man. She wasn't going to stand for a stranger barging into her space, she needed this vacation more than anything in this world and she'd be damned if she let this ruin it. She watched as the man in front of her opened and closed his mouth, looking like a fish out of the water as he tried to come up with a solution to the very obvious problem. If Maeve was honest, she had no idea how the confusion had happened or how they'd both ended up in this situation, but she didn't have much time to think about it. 

The thunder outside shook the walls of the small cabin, rattling the jars and the decorations on the walls throughout, and it wasn't until Maeve heard the crack of lightning that she realized just how bad the storm outside had become. The view outside the window had been fogged, the colorful autumn trees disappearing behind the wall of water falling from the sky as the landscape blurred into a mixture of grey and orange with red splotches. Maeve, whose attention had switched from the man in the green hoodie to the raging storm outside, had grabbed the pile of clothes she'd left on the dresser. Without another word, she walked back towards the bathroom and made sure to twist the lock before she let out a breath. 

The man in her bedroom for the week had been, breathtaking to say the least. His eyes, although wide and filled with confusion when Maeve had looked into them, were brown and shone even in the gloominess of the weather His hair was short, the tufts of blonde hair curling near the ends. Maeve guessed that his hair had been a darker color naturally, the roots she'd spotted proving her point. He looked like a kind person, maybe he was like Maeve as well, just another person looking for an escape. 

That's all her trip to this cabin was meant to be, an escape. 

Maeve's life had always been simple if you could call it that. She'd been born on a rainy afternoon, her mother liked to tell her it was because she was meant to outshine the sun itself. Her parents, who'd met in Scotland years before she ever came to take her first breath, had always told her about the magic the country had to offer. They told her stories of the forests so vast and large that even the biggest of problems could shrink down into pebbles that flowed away in the rivers. She'd grown up in a small town, dreaming of the wonders that Scotland had for her when she was old enough to see them. 

Maeve had moved when her time at university peaked when her nose was stuck in books that spoke all about the history and the cultures that made up the world. It had been the first time in her life that she'd been away from her parents, from the only home she had ever known, and it had been so thrilling. She went from only traveling to big cities for concerts or when her father had needed to run errands to living right in the heart of all the commotion. The quiet nights that had been filled with only cicadas singing into the night were replaced by the sound of a city, alive and cheerful at all hours of the day. Maeve had never experienced so much at such a fast pace and her life at her university flew by before she had a chance to slow down. One day she was unpacking her bags in her dorm and the next she was accepting her diploma and applying to jobs around the country. She felt the burnout, felt the way her brain tensed whenever she read through application requirements and the thought of having to pack up her life again. She felt the way her eyes forced themself open while riding the train to interviews. She knew that she needed a break, a few days off to remember who she was and what she wanted in life. To make matters worse, her relationship had been going downhill. She'd met James at a social event the school had put on, both of them were in the same program so it wasn't hard to make conversation with him. After too many history jokes and a trip to the campus bar, Maeve found herself awake in his arms as he slept. She'd laid there that first night, looking out at the stars through his window, wondering why she'd felt a pull towards a different place, a different person.

That feeling hadn't stopped since that night, she'd stayed with James, he was a nice guy who made her laugh and kept her company as they both studied. But he wasn't someone she saw herself spending the rest of her life with. She had a feeling that James felt the same way even if they were both too afraid to admit that the spark that had been there before was fiddling out. The arguments were getting worse, the silence lasting longer as time went on. It wasn't until one night when Maeve had been studying for a final exam that it had all exploded. Words were thrown around, tears were shed, and she was left feeling like something was wrong with her. She couldn't understand why she couldn't love James as he loved her, she'd turn distant and pushed him away until all that was left between them was a broken flower vase and tears.

That's why she'd jumped on the opportunity to fly to Scotland when it arose. She'd been sitting at her desk, scrolling through an endless list of applications and teaching opportunities when the email had popped up. She'd read through it a couple of times, making sure she wasn't imagining the words on the screen. Her professor, who'd helped her in more ways than one could count, had recommended her for a teaching job abroad. She would have to visit the school, make sure that it was both a right fit for her and for the administration, but it seemed like they were more than ready to offer her a spot and helping her make Edinburgh her home. 

Mrs. Baird, the lovely older woman who had driven Maeve up to the cabin and helped her unpack, had told her that she was glad she'd arrived a few days earlier after Maeve had told her all about why she was visiting Scotland at such an odd time of year. She'd been a curious soul ever since Maeve had stepped out of the taxi that had taken her from the train station out to the main residence Mrs. Baird had seemed to be the owner of. She'd asked Maeve all sorts of questions, which Maeve had taken as to her host just making sure she wasn't escaping from anyone dangerous or anything like that, it was a tough time to be a woman traveling alone.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll love the spot you'll be staying in then. It's very private, it'll be good for you to clear your head and relax before your big interview," she'd nodded as she packed up a few bags with groceries Maeve hadn't recalled reading about on the website. 

"Oh, um, I don't think I paid for anything like that, Mrs. Baird," Maeve chuckled and shook her head, "I was thinking of just popping into town and picking up a few essentials."

"Oh don't you worry, darling! It's my pleasure. Plus, the cottage is quite secluded so it'd take you almost half a day to get to the shops and back," she shrugged, "Let's get going, yeah?"

The drive up to the cabin had been slow and gave Maeve a chance to take in the sights. The forest was alive with colors that Maeve's eyes had craved to see. It seemed like everything her parents had told her about the place they'd met was still the same. The trees still sway in the chilly breeze and somewhere in the distance, a river flowed with a power that only came with years of flowing and receiving rain. The drive itself had been plenty enough to get Maeve excited about her days of rest but the second her eyes saw the stone bridge that led to her home for the next couple of days, she knew her life was about to change. After helping Mrs. Baird with bringing in all the bags and thanking her for the candles she'd also brought, telling her a rainstorm was predicted to pass through the next day, Maeve was alone. 

Her first day in the cabin had been spent unpacking and unwinding. Mrs. Baird had been kind enough to bring a bottle of Scottish whiskey, telling her," when in Scotland" and Maeve had sampled the liquor, letting it burn her throat as she stared out at the river flowing outside her bedroom window. Her trip had been going great so far, she'd successfully beaten jetlag, had managed not to burn the small kitchen down during her dinner, and she had taken a nice and relaxing show when the rainstorm had shown up the next day. She'd made sure to light a few candles around the place, not wanting to walk around in the dark if the power did go out. Then, of course, everything took a turn for the unexpected when Maeve walked out of the bathroom and was met by a man sleeping in her bed. 

By the time she'd walked out of the bathroom again, fully dressed and a little more confident in herself, the power had gone out and the whole cabin had been illuminated with an orange glow coming from the candles. The man was no longer in the bedroom, but the storm outside the window was winding up more and more as the seconds passed. She knew she couldn't make him walk out in the forest during the storm, it was too dangerous and mean in general to kick someone out in the middle of a downpour. So she'd let the guy stay until the storm passed and then they'd both walk down to the main residence and sort out whatever the hell was happening. 

"Calum," he mumbled, looking over as Maeve stepped out into the living room, "I'm Calum."

"Maeve," she replied with a nod, "You're not here to murder me, right?"

Calum chuckled and shook his head, which made Maeve warm and sent a shiver down her spine. His smile was nice, a murderer wouldn't have waited for her to get dress unless he was into that, she thought. She'd smiled at him, tugging the sleeves of her sweater down a bit as she looked around the living room. The candles gave the entire room a moody glow, the storm had stopped the sunshine from coming in through the windows and it had felt later on in the day than it actually was. 

"So...tea?" she asked softly as she motioned towards the kitchen. 

Maeve had found out that Calum, which was a very fitting name for the man sitting across from her watching the rain outside, had been in Scotland for a little over two weeks. He'd been traveling on his own, exploring the smaller cities and seeing what the Highlands had to offer. Maeve had told him about her interview, confessing that she wasn't the most prepared and that these few days before were to help her hopefully calm down. To her surprised, she’d learned that Calum was a professor at a university near his town, both of their widening at the confession of just how similar they were.

"That's exciting, what are you hoping to teach?” Calum asked, his eyes meeting hers in the candlelight, “I specialize in Art History.”

“History,” she nodded, a blush on her cheeks, her eyes glancing down to the cup of tea that had been warming her hands, “I’ve always loved studying it and I want to help others learn about it too.”

“Yeah? I get that. The history department at my school isn’t the best Some older man names Rainer runs it like it’s still warm times,” Calum chuckled, “He’s the worst.”

Maeve laughed, shaking her head as she thought about her fair share of professors who had yet to catch up with the times She thought about what kind of instructor Calum was. It was only his second year teaching so was he the one who made his students excited for lessons ahead? Did he use fun activities and assignments to incorporate them into his plans? Maybe he assigned cool projects, where the main point was to gain a bigger understanding of something a student has been wanting to talk about. Calum seemed like the type and from what Maeve had learned about the man in the short hours she’d known him, she knew he was kind and attentive.

“How was your hike up here?” Calum asked as he set the cup of tea down on the table, his legs stretching out as his head leaned on the back of the couch. 

“Hike?” Maeve asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked over at him.

“Yeah, I left around like five and didn’t get here until ten,” Calum chuckled and shrugged, “And somehow you look like you just took a leisurely drive up here,” he teased, sitting up as he saw the look on Maeve’s face, “Oh my god, you drove up here, didn’t you?”

"In my defense," Maeve giggled out, holding her arms up, "Mrs. Baird offered to bring me up here"

"Oh, and she forced me to walk for five hours and fall in the mud!?" Calum whined, shaking his head as he let out a groan, "She's so not getting a good review from me, whatever her name may be."

Maeve laughed softly, watching the way Calum ran a hand down his face and pouted over at her. She was surprised at how easily they both got along, usually, Maeve had trouble getting out of her own head and talking to new people. But with Calum things just felt so carefree. She wasn't sure if it was such a good thing, opening up to a complete stranger who had been booked into the same cabin as her, but the rain outside wasn't letting up and she was more than willing to work out a compromise to share with him until the rain stopped and they could take the quad bike Mrs. Baird had told Maeve about before leaving her in the middle of nowhere. 

"Do you want to go freshen up? I'm sure your five-hour hike up here more than justifies a nice warm bath," Maeve nodded, giggling as Calum glared playfully over at her, "I'll try and mix something up for lunch?"

"That sounds lovely, if the rain doesn't stop soon I'll make us dinner," Calum shrugged, standing up from the couch and walking over to the entrance of the cabin, gathering his bag and a pile of clothes that Maeve hadn't even noticed were on the floor before making his way over to the bathroom. 

The rain had not stopped by the time Calum had gotten out of the bath, much to Maeve’s pleasure since she’d heard his soft voice singing along to whatever song he’d been playing. The rain hadn't stopped while the two ate their lunch, a stew that Maeve had managed to throw together in the tiny kitchen. And the rain had, surprisingly, not stopped while Calum had been bustling around the kitchen a few hours later, making dinner while Maeve read through one of the many books she’d packed with her for her trip If she hadn’t known anything about Scotland before traveling there, she would’ve assumed the Earth was flooding and that her adventure abroad would end before it even started.

It wasn’t until a crack of thunder rocked the walls of the cabin that Maeve realized just how extreme the weather has turned. The window was howling against the windows, shaking the panes with the intensity of it. The power had yet to come back and as the day had gone by, the cabin had only grown gloomier and gloomier. Their only source of light had been the many candles that their host has left them, something Maeve would be eternally grateful for. They crackled and glowed in the darkness of whatever room Maeve would get up to look out the window through. Her shadows mixed with the firelight and danced across the dark walls of the safety she’d come to know in her short stay. The river outside of the house, which was louder now that it was filled with rainwater, had grown taller as Maeve would barely see the giant rocks inside of the river which had caused the small rapids earlier in the day.

It was all terrifyingly beautiful.

Nature had put on a show for her and Calum, letting them in on the secret dance the forest and elements did for one another. The trees danced with the wind, swaying wildly from side to side and switching directions when they pleased. The river water jumped over the stone bridge above it, splashing cold water onto the top and lowering as it sprinkled back down onto itself. The woodland animals, who would be hiding in the safety of their own homes, hidden somewhere Maeve couldn’t quite see but hoped they’d be just as amazed watching the show that the world put on for them. It was all so terrifying and violent, the rain submitting to no one but itself as he disappeared into the river only to come down harder from the clouds in the night sky. It wasn’t until the thunder, which had been singing a song for the forest itself, cracked again that the stone bridge took its final bow.

Maeve watched as the bridge crumbles. It started slowly, one of two big pieces crumbling into the river below as if by accident. But the water was cruel and greedy, splashing upwards and sending more and more stone into its hands. Maeve, who could do nothing more than watch as their only way back out to civilization crumbled and washed away into the river below, gasped and leaned against the window. The glass shook underneath her hands, the wind greeting her palms from the outside and howling in excitement as the once-solid bridge was split into two pieces, never to meet again, as the final act of nature’s show came to an end.

“Did you hear that?” Calum asked as he walked into the bedroom, where Maeve had been watching the show, “Maeve?”

She turned to face the stranger, her wide eyes softening as she was met with the definition of a word she couldn’t place in her brain. Calum had changed into a pair of joggers, the grey material hanging loosely off his hips and only held up by a haphazardly tied knot. His upper half was dressed in a warm green sweater, the color reminding her of the fields of green she’d seen on the train ride to the small town, his board shoulder stretching the fabric a little bit in the candlelight, he looked breathtaking. Maeve knew he was good-looking, it was one of the first things she’d noticed when he’d jumped up from the bed with tired eyes that had been filled with fear. He was beautiful and kind and…stuck with Maeve.

“T-the bridge,” she stuttered out, her cheeks flushing as she realized Calum was still standing in front of her waiting for an answer, “The bridge fell.”

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