#blubberin'

[deepsixsquid]

Gotta listen to these old drums one more time before the servers go down I love this game with all my heart, and am thankful for its impact on my life Thanks, Splatoon 1, for everything Goodbye, old friend

[selttiks4313]

About to watch the C word for the first time and I’m feeling very distraught just at the idea of it

[rnm-magic-space-xsd]

Imagine your f/o, starved of affection, the first time your finger brushes theirs, slow and tender. Imagine how cute is their reaction, perhaps they're blushing and/or surprised. They had never been touched like that before, with such love and tenderness. Even after days have passed they keep thinking about that moment, expectantly waiting for the next time they'll have their hands intertwined with yours. ♡

Pr*-shippers/c*mship don't interact

[s0urte3th]

i dont. i dont know what to do.

[of-teeth-and-tenderness]

Bound

M Werewolf x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A planned encounter with a supernatural captive tethers the two of you together in more ways than one.

Warnings: Kidnapping, drugging, body horror, complicated noncon for both parties, fuck or die scenario, painful sex (and not painful sex), forced breeding, multiple orgasms, knotting, blood, gore, minor character(s) death.

~~

The echoing tap of boots on stone brings you to the surface of consciousness. Chain mail jingles in time with the dizzying sway of your heavy body. Your ears seem as though they are stuffed with cotton, every sound muffled and distant. Painfully, you swallow, your parched throat crying for water.

Slowly, pure sound returns. Keys rattle. A heavy lock thunks. Rusting hinges squeal. The stink of rotting iron, mildew, and heady musk assaults your senses. Snuffling, frantic inhales bounce off a low ceiling.

“W-What are you doing?” a deep but tremulous voice inquires. The fear behind the words gives you the strength to crack your eyes open.

Darkness is all you can see at first. Momentary panic grips you—have you lost your sight—but rapid blinking brings a stone floor into focus.

Before you can even begin to orient yourself, you’re slung from the shoulder of the man who had carried you here like a sack of goods. Pain erupts in your shoulder and hip when you crash to the floor, a weak cry tearing from your chapped lips.

A strained groan sounds from across the room, followed by gasping breaths and frightened begging, “No, no you can’t do this, you can’t do this! Please, for god’s sake, please—

“Quiet, dog! Isn’t this what you wanted?” a second voice snaps, condescension dripping from every word. “All that moanin’ and blubberin’ I’ve had to endure. Finally gettin’ your way and now you turn your nose up at it? Oughta be thankin’ me.” Cruel laughter ricochets off the ceiling. You wince and curl in on yourself. Darkness pulls at the edges of your vision, unconsciousness yearning to claim you once more.

A heavy door slams. The lock clicks.

“No, no, no, no….” the first voice chants, a despairing whisper. Deep, shaking inhales, then, “M-Miss…darling…I—please look at me, there’s no time….”

Groggily, you groan and force your eyes open. Focus, you will yourself. You push to your elbows, eyes quickly scanning the small room—a prison cell—before they fall on a man shackled to the far wall.

A small, barred window set high up into the wall allows just enough weak starlight into the cell to make out his features. The soft glow falls on dark, shoulder length hair. It’s wild and disheveled; that combined with the dirt on his skin and the thick stubble peppering his jaw tells you he hasn’t seen a bath or a razor in some time. He’s gaunt, like he’s been starved, and a sheen of sweat covers his body and glistens in the low light. His skin…. It’s completely unmarred, not a blemish in sight save for the thick purple scar covering his right shoulder. It is in the shape of a semi-circle, but you can make out nothing else in the low light.

You realize suddenly the man is naked, save for a thin cloth covering his groin. Even in the darkness you spot the erection straining under fabric. You gulp, bewildered and embarrassed, and meet his gaze. He regards you with wide, startlingly golden eyes. They dart to the window and back to your face. His nostrils flare like he’s scenting the air.

The question of how and why you’re here in this cell with this poor prisoner burns in your mind, but you remain quiet. You have a feeling this man will be your answer.

“That’s a good girl. Tell me your name?” he asks. His voice is strained, like he’s forcing himself to stay calm, or to calm you. You bite your lip hesitantly, your gaze flicking to the locked iron door and back again.

Your own voice breaking when you speak, you tell him your name as you push up to sitting. The room spins and you clench your eyes shut as nausea churns in your belly.

The tea.

They’d taken you—two soldiers in armor, armor with no sigil. They’d abducted you on your way home from town. They waited for you on the path you take through the forest, like they had known your route.

It was planned.

They took you to a nameless fortress hidden on the mountain. The dingy stone walls had oozed despair. They held you prisoner for several days in a room similar to this cell, though you’d been given a bed and a table and food. One night, flanked by soldiers—different soldiers, how many were there—a wizened old man had visited your room.

The old man told you he was a doctor. He made you drink a cup of foul tasting tea….

It was drugged, you realize now. Why? Are you still in the fortress? Why are you here now with this shackled man? And why is he so scared?

He repeats your name with a nod. “I am Callum. Listen…. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry there isn’t more time to explain. You—

Callum suddenly grits his teeth and tenses, his back arching away from the wall. You watch his toes curl and rake through the straw covering the floor beneath him. He whimpers and slumps forward, the shackles catching against his arms and digging bleeding groves into his skin.

Alarmed, you push to your knees, intent on helping in some way, but his eyes fly open and he shouts, “Don’t! Don’t, please don’t come near me. Your scent, gods, your scent….” He trails off, shaking his head and flexing against his bonds.

Audibly, Callum swallows and lifts his head to fix you with his intense stare. “The full moon is rising. I can feel it. I’m—I’m about to transform into…into something you’ve only ever heard tell of in stories. Something….” He trails off and shakes his head. “They…” he glares toward the door, “They left you in here with me as-as an experiment. I told them! I told them what would happen but they don’t listen. He has to see it for himself”.

Heart hammering against your ribs, you watch him, trepidation and confusion only increasing with his words. “I-I don’t understand,” you stammer, trembling fingers clutching the front of your dress.

“You will.” he whispers, eyes raising to the window again. They gleam in the light, tears brimming in his lashes. They trickle down his cheeks when he blinks and looks back to you. “I might hurt you, but I won’t kill you. Not this time. You’re-you’re going to be used for something else. I can’t control it. I wish—oh—how I wish I could. I’m so sorry, I wish it wasn’t like this, I’m sorry—

Suddenly, Callum stiffens, his body going ramrod straight. Golden eyes fix on the window, unblinking. He’s frozen in place, a statue. He doesn’t even breathe.

An agonized scream erupts from his mouth. You jolt and scurry away, your back hitting the opposite wall. Callum bows forward, more cries and groans leaving his quaking form. Joints snap, bones crack, and your eyes widen in shock at the sickening crunch.

With one, brutal tug, Callum cleanly rips the shackles from the wall. A shriek leaves you as he falls to his knees, dust and twisted metal raining down around him. His back curves when he falls forward and looses another blood-curdling scream.

Flesh tears. Terror sticks a scream in your throat when you watch the skin of Callum’s back split along his spine. Instead of bloody tissue and bone beneath, black fur emerges. More snapping, more shredding. Limbs elongate. Fingers grow heinous claws. Legs contort. Screams turn to snarls, sounds so deep and guttural you feel them in your chest.

Feverish panic surges through your muscles and you scramble off the ground to race to the door. You bang your fist on metal, frantically pleading through the small window with the man standing guard on the other side. He merely chuckles and shakes his head.

“Get comfortable, Missy. You’ve got a long night ahead of you. He’s in his rut, that one.”

Rut…?

Long, bony fingers wrap around your ankle and yank your leg out from under you. You squeal in surprise, barely managing to catch your weight and stop your face from smashing into stone. Hastily, you whip around, your entire body seizing in abject horror at what you find.

Staring back at you through the darkness are two golden eyes that burn with unnatural fire, glowing in the gloom. Black fur covers a monstrous snout. Moonlight glints off long, dripping fangs. Pointed ears flick to and fro, listening to your frenzied breaths.

It is a wolf, mostly. The long arms and legs and the ten grasping fingers, however, are unnervingly human. And the sheer, hulking size of it…. No normal wolf is this big. You know of this creature, heard your father speak of it once with the other carpenters.

He spoke of entire flocks of sheep slaughtered on a full moon night, their shepherds eviscerated and torn limb from limb. Yet, nothing was consumed. The culprit had only craved the hunt, the carnage. You had nightmares for weeks after, the name this man turned monster ever present in your fears:

Werewolf.

From the creature’s maw comes a rumbling growl, one that spills icy fear into your blood. You thrash and claw at the ground, but the monster easily captures your other ankle and pulls you across the floor.

Hot, viscous drool patters across your bare thighs, your skirts having bunched up around your hips during the slide. The wolf looms over you, its nose twitching this way and that as it scents the air. Scents you.

Shakily, you whimper when the wet snout dips to your neck—the teeth are so close, one bite and you’re dead—and snuffles along your skin to your ear. Its breath reeks of carrion, of death. You can’t stop your trembling as it travels down your chest and your abdomen before nuzzling into the apex of your thighs.

You yelp and squirm, but fall still when the beast growls again, more insistently this time. Claws catch in the fabric of your undergarments and tear, the sound of ripping fabric merging with your startled screech.

You’re bared to it now and can feel its hot breath ghosting across your slit. Drool spills from its mouth to drip onto your mound. Clawed hands leave your ankles to grip your thighs so it can wrench your legs further apart.

Pink tongue lolling from its mouth, the monster dips down and drags the slippery muscle across your folds. You’re so shocked you arch and gasp, unexpected pleasure jolting through your belly. Any attempt to twist your hips away only digs the creature’s claws further into the flesh of your legs. You’re trapped, a prisoner to its ministrations.

The werewolf begins lapping away at your cunt, its golden eyes slipping closed as if in rapture. Every pass of its rough tongue has your toes curling and your nails scraping against stone. You clench your jaw, mortified by the sounds aching to escape.

Distantly, through all your racing thoughts, the memory Callum’s words float to the forefront of your mind: “You’re-you’re going to be used for something else….”

Something else…. Did he mean…?

Climax hits you like a runaway horse. The tight coil of want deep in your gut snaps and pleasure rolls through you in molten waves. A strangled cry spills from your lips, your thighs twitching in the wolf’s grip.

Panting, dazed, you stare in disbelief at the low ceiling and curse your traitorous body. Later, think later. Get out, get away.

You move to wriggle away, but claws seize you around the waist. The room tilts as you’re flipped onto your front. One paw between your shoulder blades keeps your chest pinned to the floor, while another on your hip raises you to your knees.

Heart slamming against your ribs, there is now no doubt about what comes next. Straining, you peer back over your shoulder and catch sight of the creature’s thick red cock, hard and free from its sheath. The size of it renews your struggle, desperation to escape overriding the pain of claws pricking your flesh. It’s pointless, you realize, as the tapered head, slick with desire, slides down your rear and prods at your entrance.

“C-Callum, please don’t,” you plead, praying to the gods above the man inside the monster will hear.

Pointless.

The beast’s length eases past your opening and burrows into tight, slippery muscles. The incredible stretch takes your breath away and leaves you wide eyed and slack-jawed. Uncontrollable shaking wracks your form and you whimper pathetically, filled to your limit.

“T-Too-too much,” comes your tremulous gasp. Your nails carve bleeding divots into your palms. Behind you, the wolf rumbles in satisfaction. The fur of its chest brushes against your back when it curls over you, bringing with it the scents of earth and musk.

You feel its powerful thighs tense for the first, hard thrust, but just one is not enough. There is no slow start, no paced rhythm until you’ve adjusted. The creature snaps his hips with fervor, battering you into the floor. Wet slapping fills the tiny cell, the sound only overshadowed by your screams.

The screams, however, are not ones of pain, at least not completely. There is discomfort in the stretch, in how deeply and thoroughly your cunt is pummeled. Yet, there is no denying the pleasure, the ecstasy that takes control of your voice to make its presence known. You can’t contain the mewls, the moans, the high pitched keening.

“Please, p-please, please,” you whine, no longer certain if you beg for it to stop, or for more. Your knees ache and your cheek burns where you’re repeatedly pressed into the floor, but you hardly notice over the hot, sticky rapture spreading through your core.

The next climax takes your breath away. Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as your cunt squeezes the girth within you, demanding payment. The wolf snarls, drool splattering onto your back to soak into your dress. Something hard and bulbous, thicker than its length pushes against your slit.

What—

With one vicious thrust, the beast’s knot pops into your spasming channel. Its cock tunnels deeper still, deeper than you could have imagined possible. You shriek and arch, eyes crossing, overwhelmed tears spilling down your cheeks. You cum again, your vision whiting out, euphoria roiling in your gut.

More warmth floods your insides, so copious it overflows and leaks down your trembling thighs. Through the pleasure-haze you realize it is pumping you full of its seed.

Breeding you.

The werewolf slumps a little, pushing you further into the floor and covering your back with warm fur. It pants in your ear, its heaving chest mirroring your own. The great snout nuzzles your cheek, wet tongue lapping at your tears and sweat. An experimental twitch of your hips tells you you’re firmly locked in place where you are joined.

Those heinous teeth so near your head frighten you. You pray Callum’s promise about not killing you holds true. Even if it doesn’t kill you, it could still bite and pass its curse onto you.

Long minutes pass where the both of you simply breathe in the other’s air. The wolf hovers over you, its massive body and long arms like a protective cage. Weariness takes hold of your shaking limbs and your eyes droop despite the setting and company.

Gradually, the swollen base of its cock begins to shrink. The creature pulls free, a deluge of spend pouring from your hole and splattering to the floor. Your knees give out and you collapse, a sticky mess.

You expect the monster to retreat, to curl up and sleep, but instead it startles you by grasping you around the middle and rolling you onto your back. Your eyes go wide, your stomach dropping when you see it is fully erect once again.

“W-wait, wait I—

Claws dig into your hips and lift. The wolf surges forward and spears you on its cock a second time. The cry you loose burns your throat.

The frenzied pace starts up again, white hot jolts of arousal arcing through your belly with every thrust. Jarring movement causes your dress to slip off a shoulder, your breasts spilling free. Eagerly, the beast dives forward and laves its tongue across a nipple. You choke on a moan, fingers unconsciously tangling in coarse fur.

It becomes increasingly apparent as you are stuffed full of seed, flipped on your side, and fucked into once again that this ordeal, this long night is far, far from over.

You won’t rest until the moon does.

**

Your cheek nestles against thick fur. Blearily, you blink and realize you had dipped out of wakefulness for a moment. You’re still, no longer rocking with the movement of pistoning hips. You think you might still be seated on the wolf’s girth, but it is difficult to tell, numb as you are.

The creature beneath you stirs, a long whine leaving its throat. In your peripheral, faint light shines through the window bars. The sun….

The cracking of bone heralds the change. Claws retract, limbs shorten. Fur falls away to be replaced by skin and human body hair. Low growls morph into pained groans.

You don’t have the strength to lift your head. Your cheek, buried in fur not a moment ago, now rests on a sturdy chest. Callum’s heart hammers in your ear and his haggard breaths jostle you. No longer held inside by the wolf’s knot, spend pours from your abused cunt to coat the both of you.

Quietly, he sobs. Trembling arms wrap around your limp body and his lips find your crown. Timidly, he croaks out your name. You don’t know what to say, too dazed and exhausted to even think. You remain silent.

Carefully cradling you to his chest, Callum moves the both of you off cold stone and onto straw bedding. He gingerly fixes your clothing, pulling it back in place and covering you as well as he can. You sigh heavily, too weary to care. Your only desire is sleep’s comforting embrace, nothing more.

Rest comes, however lightly. You doze, drifting in and out of that liminal space between waking and sleeping. Perhaps it is the way your hips ache that keeps you from slumbering deeply, or the way you can feel your heartbeat between your bruised thighs. The more time passes, the more your body begins to twinge.

Voices rouse you. Your eyes flutter and you listen, focusing on their words. Both are voices you recognize.

“…took the poor wench, if all that screamin’ was anythin’ to go by.”

“Is she still alive?” You frown. It’s the old man, the doctor….

“Dunno. Haven’t heard her in a while. Maybe not.”

“Did he knot her?” Your cheeks burn at the question.

“How the fuck would I know? Wasn’t in there taking notes, was I?” The lock thunks. Your eyes fly open only to meet molten gold.

A thrill of fear races up your spine. Callum’s human eyes are identical to those of the wolf. You suck in a breath and will your racing heart to calm. He’s still human.

Callum holds a finger up to his mouth, hushing you. Hastily, you shut your eyes and pretend to sleep. Hinges squeal.

“You don’t understand! If he claimed her as his mate, you have no idea the danger you’re in!” Boots on stone, louder voices, rattling of chainmail and keys. “His protective instinct will be ferocious—

“Quiet down, old man. Looks to me like he fucked himself into a stupor.”

Instantly, the heat of Callum’s body disappears from your side. There’s a grunt of surprise, a wet gurgle, then shocked silence. You risk a peek and your hands fly to your mouth to muffle your horrified gasp.

The guard who had spoken so crudely—the one who brought you here—clutches wildly at his neck. Scarlet gushes from a chunk of flesh that has been torn from his throat, flesh that now rests between Callum’s teeth. Little drops of gore, crimson rain, patter onto the stone around their feet, more violent red peppered across the front of Callum’s bare chest.

The soldier topples over, the noisy crash breaking the trance of the second guard. He rushes Callum only to receive a powerful kick to the chest. The man crashes into the far wall and collapses in motionless heap.

Callum then turns his attention to the old man cowering near the door. Pathetically, he cries out and moves to scamper from the room, but Callum is faster. He grips the doctor by the throat, fury burning in his golden eyes. The old man paws at Callum’s wrist, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Callum squeezes. A gut-wrenching crack echoes around the room and the old man goes slack in his grip, eyes rolling back into his skull. Unceremoniously, the doctor is tossed to the side, a lifeless rag doll crumpling into a pile.

Callum spits the blood from his mouth and hurriedly kneels next to the first guard. He strips him of his breeches and boots and dresses himself. Reaching for the sword, he pauses and peers closely at the handle. He must not like what he sees because he leaves it to stand.

Then, he turns to face you, face bloodied and eyes alight with righteous fire. You’re momentarily frozen in half-formed panic. He won’t hurt you, will he?

But you couldn’t flee if you tried.

His expression softens and he races to your side. Gently, he grips you under the arms. “We must hurry. More will come soon. Can you walk?”

You steel yourself and push your fears aside. Escape must take precedence. “I-I can try.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, he hauls you to your feet. You stagger into his side, your knees buckling, the deep ache between your legs growing unbearable.

Callum wraps an arm around your waist and ushers you from the tiny cell. You stumble along as well as you can, every step reminding you of your list of hurts.

Before you lies a hallway. He lifts his head and sniffs the air. “This way,” he murmurs, steering you to the right. Together, you rush, stepping as lightly as you can, your padding footsteps and labored breaths like a cacophony in the quiet hall.

Over the rush of blood in your ears you hear voices up ahead. Your heart leaps into your throat. Frantically, you look up at Callum.

He wastes no time. As though you weigh nothing, he lifts you clean off your feet. Backtracking, he slips into a nearby stairwell and presses flush against the wall. Callum crushes you to his chest and the both of you hold your breath.

A pair of guards approach, boots stomping, chainmail jingling. They laugh about some shared joke, their chortling filling the hallway and echoing down the stairwell. Please pass by, please pass by….

You slowly release the air trapped in your lungs as the soldiers continue forward past the stairwell. Though, you won’t have long before they discover the grisly scene in the cell and sound the alarm. Callum must understand this too.

He darts back up the stairs, sets you on your feet, and continues onward, more urgency in his steps. You stumble along, fingers digging into this shoulder while your other hand clutches desperately at the arm around your waist.

Down a set of stairs, through another corridor you go. Ahead lies a heavy wooden door. Callum shoulders it open just as a bell begins clanging from the guard tower.

Daylight blinds you both. You nearly tumble down the short set of stairs in your rush to throw a hand up over your face. The arm on your waist steadies you.

Hurry, down the steps, hurry.

You grit your teeth, every step jolting sore limbs. Dull aching becomes sharp stabbing. Push it down, ignore it you tell yourself as you rush through the grass. Just head is tree cover.

Your knees buckle. You crumple, a strained cry leaving you as you crash to the ground, grass dirtying your palms and your dress. Morning dew still clings to the blades to soak your clothing.

“I can’t, just—

Callum doesn’t let you finish and instead scoops you up off the ground to carry you bridal style. How he can run right now, carrying you and exhausted from the previous night is beyond you. Still, he sprints into the trees, gracefully leaping over brush and fallen branches.

Soon, however, he begins to slow. Sweat beads along his brow and his chest heaves. There is such weariness etched in his features; in the light you can see the dark circles under his eyes, the sunken cheeks.

“Callum, stop,” you urge, your palm gently resting on his chest. He blinks and looks down at you as though he’d been in a trance. He staggers and falls to his knees, dead foliage crunching beneath. You clamber from his arms and help him lay on his side as he sucks in laborious breaths through his teeth.

Hastily glancing about, you find a moderately sized branch. Using your remaining strength, you haul it behind Callum, half concealing his shivering frame. It will have to do. You can manage no more.

Next to him, you collapse, your body riddled with pain and fatigue. Never have you experienced weariness down to your very bones.

You don’t think anything of it when you curl up against Callum’s chest. It seems the natural place to be. The arm that wraps around your body and pulls you close is meant to be there. Your vision blurs, merciful darkness encroaching.

Finally, sleep takes you.

[elfven-blog]

Thank you sweets

Oh wow! There’s so many of you!

Thank you for enjoying my work

And hopefully I can keep producing work you like!!

Thank you, lovelies

-Honey

[hells-mansion]

Man, the thing of "home being the people who love you" will always get me goin If I ain't cryin on the outside, you know damn well I'm a blubberin mess on the inside

[enigmatist17]

I'm still crying over Cordelia's death, I loved her so fucking much :(

--

Spike dropped to his knees like a cut marionette when a feeling of utter sadness ripped through his chest, the startled voices of the others in the elevator muted as pure agony washed over him.

Angel was in pain, the bond between them flaring bright as the sun as he gasped for unneeded air.

"Talk to us, what's wrong?" He was vaguely aware that Lorne was calling to him, the pain lessening with each breath as Spike wildly looked around as if trying to draw the answer from nothing.

"Angel, something is wrong with Angel." He finally forces the words out from his throat, the demon practically holding him up as Fred reverses the elevator's course, heading back up as Spike clutches his head.

He wasn't going to be of any use if Angel didn't stop bombarding him with waves upon waves of agony, so with great reluctance, he took a deep breath before going still, focusing on the bond as he sent a feeling of comfort in return. At first, he doubted Angel even remembered that he could feel Spike, but after a few moments, the waves of pain subsided as the elevator doors opened, Lorne remaining with Spike as the others rushed to his office.

"You going to be alright kitten?" The demon asked as he helped the vampire onto unsteady feet, Spike nodding as his ragged breathing slowed.

"Bloody idiot was lucky I wasn't driving." Spike grumbled, pulling away from Lorne. "Go, see what's got him in knots, I'll be 'ere."

"Won't be long then." The other hurried off, and Spike sagged onto the closest couch with a sigh, waiting for his head to stop aching and the others to report back. At the same time, he poured comfort into the bond, hoping it would help calm Angel enough about whatever was happening.

Ten minutes pass before he can hear the crying, and his heart sinks as he stands, treading towards a familiar office. Wesley is stumbling out the door with a pained look, making it two steps before he throws up whatever he'd eaten in the last day, ugly sobs crawling out of his throat as the vampire steadies him. The bond threatens to flare up with more agony, and Spike resumes sending comfort through it while giving Wesley his own via a gentle pat on his back.

"What's happened?" Spike guides Wesley back toward Angel's office, pointing toward the closest chair when it's clear the other is too stunned to respond.

"C...Cordy's dead." Spike looked over at his grandsire, who was barely standing upright as he leaned against his desk.

"What? But she was 'ere a few minutes ago, breathin' as sure as anything." Spike looks around the room in confusion, the various Angel Investigations team members scattered around all in their own states of shock as they try to process what Angel has told them.

"It was a last gift, from the Powers."

"Oh..."

What else could he say? Sure, he didn't know the bird much, but she'd always had a solid head on her shoulders in the few times they had interacted.

Right, problem-solving mode it was; Spike was decent at that.

"Alright ducks, let's move this up to Angel's flat yea? No one's goin' home today, and I ain't driving with some blubberin' messes." Spike cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

"Spike -"

"Can it...sire, you first." Angel's reddened eyes snapped to his at the term, and Spike just held his gaze before the older slowly got to his feet, trudging towards his elevator with his shoulders hunched. "Good."

"I can call for some cots and such, let -" Gunn was cut off when Spike shook his head.

"I'll do it, go up there an' be with the big ponce, all of you." Gunn sighed and followed after Angel, Lorne helping Fred off the floor where she'd collapsed. Wesley was still looking at the floor as Spike called the 24-hour staff to bring up some beds for the night and, after a pause, ordered food for the next day, just in case, before sitting on the arm of Wes's chair.

"She's gone." The man just sounded absolutely shattered, his voice barely a whisper as tears streamed down his face in a never-ending cascade. "She's..."

"I'm sorry." A pale hand rests on the former Watcher's shoulder, a surprising balm as Wesley does his best to memorize the carpet.

"Cordelia was the reason I stayed, with Angel - with a purpose after the Council fired me."

"Tell me about 'er, sounds like a good one."

So he does, the vampire listening as Wesley starts at the beginning, giving a weak chuckle as he describes a woman with long brunette hair he'd thought to be a teacher. Wesley talks until he has no more words, pulled up and onto his feet by Spike as they head for the elevator. Save Angel, everyone had passed out in the temporary beds littered throughout the penthouse apartment. Wesley shuffled towards the last one with a squeeze of Spike's shoulder, the vampire heading toward the figure sitting on the main bed.

"Thanks, for getting them set up."

"For once, don't mention it." Angel makes a vague noise that could be considered a chuckle. "That includes you, too."

"...I don't know what I'm going to do without her." A leather coat, usually treated with care, is dropped on the floor as Angel slips it off. His shoes get a similar treatment before he lays back on his bed, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"You'll be alright, I reckon." Spike draws the covers over him, before moving to take the free armchair in the corner by the expansive windows. "Sleep."

For once Angel listens, leaving Spike to begin an unspoken vigil over his hurting family, a clink of his lighter the only noise as he lights the first of many cigarettes.

[broomballkraken]

Title: As in Coffee, As in Life Chapter 13: I Get to Love You

Fandom: Octopath Traveler 2

Pairing: Osvald/Partitio

Word count: 3519

Warnings: None

Fic Summary: “A bit o’ sweetness helps everythin’ along. As in coffee, as in life.” That was the mantra of Partitio and Roque Coffee Company. Partitio’s first customer on the opening day of the café, however, very much disagreed with this philosophy…well, the coffee part of it anyway.

After learning more about Osvald, Partitio is determined to bring a little sweetness into the crestfallen professor’s life, whether he is ready for it or not.

Chapter Summary: It’s Osvald and Partitio’s wedding day, and both men feel incredibly blessed that they get to love each other for the rest of their lives.

♪One look at you

My whole life falls in line♪

It was a beautiful spring day in New Delsta. The sunrise had dried the grass that had been shimmering with dewdrops and gradually warmed the crisp, chilly air. Most of the people in the city went about business as usual, but for Osvald and Partitio, this day was slated to be one of the best of their lives.

“Pops...Will ya quit yer blubberin’? We haven’t even started yet.”

Rolling his eyes, Partitio let out a sigh as Papp continued to cry. Roque chuckled as he took over adjusting Partitio’s tie and helping him into his suit jacket.

Papp sniffed loudly and rubbed the handkerchief that Roque handed him over his face. “S-Sorry, chickadee, I’m just...so happy that my boy’s getting married to the love of his life!”

Partitio smiled - this one bright enough to blind anyone who looked straight at him - as his mind wandered to Osvald, who was busy getting ready in a separate room of the chapel. His fiancé...who would be his husband by the end of the day. The overwhelming happiness that flooded through him made tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away when Papp placed his hands on his shoulders.

“Partitio, I’m so proud of the man you’ve become,” Papp said, a smile crossing his tear-stained face, “And...I know your mom is damn proud of you too.”

The tears Partitio had been trying to hold back spilled down his face, and he pressed his face against Papp’s shoulder when he was pulled into a hug. Partitio felt Roque’s hand start rubbing his back, and that only made him cry harder; he really had the best family in the world, and he was certain that his mom would be watching over him and Osvald as long as they lived.

“Thanks, Pops. And you too, Roque,” Partitio said when he pulled away and turned to his stepdad. Roque’s eyes went wide when Partitio hugged him, and he too shed some tears when Partitio hugged him. “Thanks for always bein’ here for Pops an’ me, for the good times and the bad.”

“Partitio...” Roque swallowed thickly as he fought back more tears, and he smiled as he returned the hug. “You truly have grown into a fine young man. I wish you all the happiness in the world with Osvald.”

“Aw, hun...”

As Roque lost the battle with himself and broke down crying, Papp wrapped his arms around both him and Partitio, pulling them into a tight embrace. Partitio counted himself damn lucky to have such an amazing pair of parents.

“Ah, am I interrupting?”

Partitio looked up to find Hikari - his best man - poking his head into the room, and he beamed and waved him in. “Naw, c’mon in Hikari!”

Hikari chuckled as he walked up to Partitio, holding up a small, ornate box. “I’ve got the rings all ready to go. Ah, and this!” He opened another box that contained a boutonniere, affixed with a bright yellow dahlia. Hikari had his already pinned to his jacket - that was probably Agnea’s handiwork - and Partitio stood as still as possible to allow Hikari to pin his in place.

“Thankee kindly!” Partitio said, and he pulled Hikari into a hug. “For that, and for standin’ next to me on the happiest day of my life.”

Hikari tightened his arms around Partitio and placed a hand on his shoulder when he pulled away. “Of course, Partitio. You’re my best friend, after all. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“Alright fellas, it’s almost time!” Papp interrupted as Roque straightened his tie.

Partitio nodded eagerly as a giddy happiness swelled within his gut, and they all finished getting ready together.

♪I prayed for you

Before I called you mine♪

“Hold still, Osvald. I don’t want to accidentally stab you.”

“Sorry.”

Clarissa - Osvald’s best woman - chuckled and shook her head as she finally succeeded in pinning his yellow dahlia boutonniere in place. “You’re trembling. Nervous?”

“...Maybe.”

“Oh, Ossy dear, everything will be fine!” Diana said as she fussed with Osvald’s hair, brushing it smooth before tying it neatly back.

Harry put on his suit jacket and chuckled. “You’re not afraid of being left at the altar, are you?”

“Dad...” Osvald grumbled, pouting as his mom and Clarissa dissolved into giggles. “It’s not that, it’s just...” He paused to swallow past the lump that had formed in his throat, and he looked between the three with watery eyes.

“I just...never thought that I could ever feel this kind of happiness again, after Rita...”

“Oh honey...” Diana hugged him tightly, and Clarissa and his dad were quick to join in. “Rita was a wonderful wife to you, and mother to Elena. I just know that she’s so happy that you found love again.”

Osvald let a few tears fall down his face, but he managed to compose himself before getting too carried away; he didn’t want to walk down the aisle with red, puffy eyes.

“Thanks, mom.”

“Hey! You guys almost ready?”

Osvald looked up when Elena rushed into the room, bouncing on her toes excitedly. She bounded over to Osvald and hugged him tight, looking up at him with a beaming smile on her face.

“You look great, Papa! I’m so happy for you,” she said, sniffing as she brushed away a few tears. Osvald smiled and gently hugged her back, careful not to mess up her hair.

“Thank you, Elena - and all of you - for supporting me today.” Osvald’s gazed passed over the most treasured people in his life; he really could not have made it to this moment without their unwavering support during his darkest moments.

“We love you so much, Osvald,” Diana said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze.

Harry smiled and placed his hand on Osvald’s shoulder. “Yes, and we’re so proud of you, son. Of the man and father that you’ve become.”

Osvald had to clench his jaw hard to keep himself from breaking down, but he was saved when Elena groaned and stuck out her tongue.

“Ugh, you guys are taking the sappiness to a whole new level,” she complained. “Can ya save some of it for the ceremony?”

Clarissa laughed and leaned over to adjust Elena’s askew hair clip. “Oh, you’ll be just as sappy when you find your special someone too.”

“Doubt it.”

Diana gasped after glancing down at her watch. “Oh dear, it’s almost time! Let’s hurry now!”

Osvald sighed and shook his head as he let his mom fuss over him again. He had a broad smile on his face, however, and he was really looking forward to finally being able to call Partitio his husband.

♪Oh, I can't believe it's true sometimes

Oh, I can't believe it's true♪

The quaint chapel was packed with Osvald and Partitio’s beloved friends and family, who were almost as excited as the happy couple was to celebrate their marriage, judging by the loud, eager chatting that filled the room.

That chatter quickly faded away once the music started, and everyone’s attention turned to the back, where Hikari and Clarissa were walking towards each other from opposite ends. When they met at the center aisle, Clarissa placed her hand in the crook of Hikari’s arm before continuing towards the altar.

Meanwhile, Partitio emerged from the right side of the back of the room, looking exasperated as Papp sobbed on one side of his, while Roque was practically shaking with the effort to hold himself together.

“C’mon Pops, yer embarrassin’ me...” Partitio mumbled, rolling his eyes when Papp just cried harder. As he tried in vain to get his parents to get it together, Osvald led his parents and Elena towards him from the opposite side.

Diana and Harry were much better at keeping their composure than Partitio’s parents, but Elena had started crying and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Elena, my dear, are you okay-”

“I’m f-fine, Papa. I just...got something in my eye!”

Osvald chuckled as Elena huffed and shook her head to compose herself, and when he approached the center aisle, he looked up, and the sight took his breath away.

Partitio accepted that Papp and Roque were lost causes, so he turned his focus back to his front, and when his eyes met Osvald’s, tears fell down his cheeks as the biggest smile that he’d ever worn crossed his face.

♪I get to love you

It's the best thing that I'll ever do

I get to love you

It's a promise I'm making to you♪

Osvald had always thought that Partitio was a handsome man, but today he looked like an ethereal being that had descended directly from the heavens. It was his turn to tear up, and he pretended to not notice the smug look that Elena was sending his way.

It was like everything else around Partitio had faded away, leaving him to gawk at how incredibly handsome his soon-to-be-husband looked at this moment. Swallowing thickly, he blinked away a few tears as he came to a stop in front of Osvald, eyes locking as their respective escorts made their way to their seats in the front row.

“D-Darlin’,” Partitio stammered as he reached out with a sweaty hand to take Osvald’s, ”you look…Hoo-eey...”

Osvald chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze, before lifting it to his face and placing a tender kiss to the back of it, which earned a few giggles and ‘aws’ from the crowd. “You look rather handsome as well, my dear.”

Partitio beamed as he looped his arm with Osvald’s and shot him a wink. “Well, I do hope that yer goin’ my way, hehe.”

Osvald chuckled, and the fond smile that crossed his face gave Partitio pause. “Always.”

Laughing, the two men walked down the aisle, basking in the amount of love and support that they were receiving from everyone in attendance, and they stopped in front of the altar. Temenos was waiting for them with a serene smile on his face; both Osvald and Partitio had been quite surprised to find out that the detective was ordained, but they were very happy that they could be married by one of their dear friends.

♪Whatever may come your heart I will choose

Forever I'm yours, forever I do

I get to love you

I get to love you♪

Osvald and Partitio turned to face each other as Temenos began the ceremony, but his words seemed far away and muffled, as the two men only had eyes for each other at this moment.

Osvald barely registered when Temenos turned to address him directly. “...Do you, Osvald, take Partitio to be your husband?”

“I do,” he luckily managed to say without missing a beat, a soft smile crossing his face as he gave Partitio’s hands a squeeze.

“And do you, Partitio,” Temenos continued as he turned towards him, “take Osvald to be your husband?”

“I sure do!” Partitio loudly blurted out, causing their friends and family to laugh. His face flushed with embarrassment as a sheepish smile crossed his face. His eyes met Osvald’s again, who was watching him with an amused glint in his eyes, and gods damn it Partitio was so fucking ecstatic to be marrying this man right now.

♪The way you love

It changes who I am

I am undone

I thank God once again♪

They exchanged rings and the rest of the ceremony continued without a hitch, until Temenos smiled brightly and said the words that Osvald and Partitio had been waiting for:

“...and by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom!”

Cheers rang out from their guests, and Partitio wasted no time in grabbing Osvald’s face and smashing their lips together for their very first kiss as a married couple. The cheers continued when Partitio pulled away, and he pressed his forehead against Osvald’s, given pause at just how much love and adoration he saw reflected in his husband’s pretty eyes.

“I love you, Osvald...my husband.” The word felt foreign on Partitio’s tongue, but it wouldn’t be that way for long, because he knew for a fact that he was going to overuse the hell out of it.

Osvald couldn’t hold back his tears anymore, and he pulled Partitio into a tight hug and cried softly against his shoulder. “I-I love you too, Partitio. I’m...overjoyed to call you my husband.”

“Daw, sweetheart...”

♪Oh, I can't believe it's true sometimes

Oh, I can't believe it's true♪

The mirth of their guests only grew louder when Temenos ended the ceremony with, “May I introduce, for the first time, Mister and Mister Osvald and Partitio Vanstein-Yellowil!”

Osvald shared a fond glance with Partitio - his husband - before taking his hand and lifting their arms into the air, coaxing another loud cheer out of their guests. Lacing their fingers together, Partitio beamed as they made their way out of the chapel, followed by their wedding party.

After taking a few pictures there, they all piled into the limousine and drove right to Partitio and Roque Coffee Company, where Partitio and Osvald took one of their favorite photos of the day, standing in the very place that they first met, sharing a tender kiss with the huge pride flag hanging above the door directly overhead.

♪I get to love you

It's the best thing that I'll ever do

I get to love you♪

When the happy couple were satisfied with the pictures that had been taken, the wedding party headed to the location of the reception, which was Solistia University’s largest banquet hall (which had been picked mostly due to Osvald’s very generous employee discount combined with Partitio’s alumni discount). After they had made their grand entrance, Osvald and Partitio went around to greet every single treasured friend and family member who had decided to celebrate their special day with them.

“Ahh! Congratulations y’all!” Agnea exclaimed after giving Partitio and Osvald both the biggest of hugs. “That was such a beautiful ceremony!” Throné nodded in agreement before turning to help her girlfriend Rai Mei untangle one of her earrings from her hair.

“Yeah, congrats!” Ochette chimed in as she walked up to them with two full plates of hors d'oeuvres. Osvald raised an eyebrow at her, while Partitio doubled over laughing.

“Shucks, Ochette, didya leave any for the rest of us?” he teased, and Ochette puffed out her swiftly-reddening cheeks.

“C’mon, Parti! Cheering so much at the ceremony really worked up my appetite.”

“Heh, I’m just teasin’ ya!”

Osvald laughed at their banter, and he and Partitio moved on to other guests. After that, the meal was served, during which Hikari and Clarissa both gave touching best man/woman speeches that left both grooms in tears.

♪It's a promise I'm making to you

Whatever may come your heart I will choose

Forever I'm yours, forever I do♪

After cutting the cake (which turned into a bit of an amusing ordeal when Osvald’s piece that he ate for the picture had somehow gotten all over his beard), it was time for their first dance as a married couple. Osvald took Partitio’s hand and they took to the dance floor alone, and when Gil’s band started playing their song, it felt as if they were the only two people in the room.

“Shucks, Osvald, today’s really gone off without a hitch,” Partitio said with a smile, “I’m surprised that most of the folks we invited managed to show up!”

Osvald nodded. “Yes, we drew quite the crowd. It’s a shame that Castti couldn’t make it though.”

“Well, yeah, but she’s probably havin’ her first baby right about now!” Partitio gushed, pausing to duck under Osvald’s arm when he twirled him around. “I betcha Edmund’s a godsdamn mess too.”

“I’m sure they’ll both be fine. She’s a doctor, after all.”

“Heh, yeah, you’re probably right ‘bout that.”

When the song ended, Osvald’s next dancer partner was Papp, while Partitio was paired with Diana, and Roque and Harry got a turn after that. When it was time for everyone to take the dance floor, Osvald and Partitio greatly enjoyed letting loose and having a great time with their guests.

♪I get to love you

I get to love you♪

As the night went on, guests started to slowly trickle out, until only a handful of people remained. Most of them were sporting at least a happy buzz, and that included the newlyweds, who were currently occupying the mostly-empty dance floor.

Partitio lifted his head from Osvald’s chest and smiled, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “This really has been the best day of my life, Osvald, and I can’t wait to share the rest of it with you.”

Osvald chuckled and gave Partitio’s hand a squeeze as they swayed gently to the music. “I can. I don’t want it to go by too quickly. I want to cherish every single moment with you, my love.”

“Osvald...” The tears that Partitio had been holding back fell down his face, and Osvald wiped them away with a feather-light touch. “Shucks...I love you so damn much.”

♪And they say love is a journey

I promise that I'll never leave

When it's too heavy to carry

Remember this moment with me♪

There was a commotion across the dance floor, and they looked to see Papp lifting Roque into the air, only to drop him moments later. Partitio burst out laughing and buried his face into Osvald’s chest, and Osvald let out a rumbling chuckle himself.

“That’ll be us someday, you know,” Partitio said as he shot Osvald a wink.

“...Please don’t drop me.”

“Never, darlin’!” A tender smile crossed Partitio’s face as he lifted Osvald’s hand to his lips and placed a kiss onto his wedding ring, his voice dropping to a whisper: “I’ll never let you fall, never again. I promise you that.”

“Partitio...”

♪I get to love you♪

♪I get to love you♪

Osvald cupped Partitio’s cheek, staring deep into his husband’s eyes before kissing him, soft and tender, earning a couple wolf-whistles from the few remaining guests. Eventually, the night had to end, and after helping the wedding party clean up, Osvald, Partitio, and Elena made their way home.

“Ah, this feels nice!” Partitio said, after he had flopped onto the bed and settled in under the covers. Osvald was quick to join him, and he chuckled when Partitio immediately latched onto his side and snuggled as close as he could to him.

“I agree.” Osvald wrapped his arms around Partitio, who rest his head on his chest as Osvald placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “I...feel like I could pass out at any given moment.” Partitio raised an eyebrow when Osvald frowned and averted his gaze, and he hummed when a realization hit him.

“Heh, yeah, me too darlin’.” Partitio kissed Osvald before nuzzling their noses together. “As much as I’d love to jump my new husband’s bones...I’m so tired...” He snickered when Osvald let out a relieved sigh; Partitio had guessed right as to what he had been worried about.

“As sad as I am to miss out on that,” Osvald started as he lifted Partitio’s left hand to his face and placed a tender kiss upon his wedding ring, “we have the rest of our lives ahead of us, and I plan to use much of that time for - ahem - ‘bone jumping.’”

Partitio felt his cheeks heat up, and he barked out a laugh as he entwined their fingers together. “Yer a hoot, darlin’! Hehe, maybe we can get a head start on that bright and early tomorrow. Might need a good shower and a lower body massage, if ya catch my drift.”

“...You’re a degenerate.”

“And yer stuck with me for life, ha!”

Osvald burst out laughing and smacked Partitio with his pillow, starting a pillow fight for the ages. After being narrowly defeated, Osvald accepted his punishment of being the big spoon and wrapped his arms around Partitio after he had settled in front of him.

“Love ya Osvald, my darlin’ husband...” Partitio mumbled, letting out a long yawn and letting his eyes slip shut.

“I love you too, Partitio, my heart.” After placing a kiss against Partitio’s shoulder, Osvald covered his hands with his as he fell asleep; Osvald couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to deserve such an incredible husband. As he started to drift off as well, Osvald still found it hard to imagine that he could have ever gotten to this level of pure bliss again after everything he had been through.

However, it seemed that all he had needed was someone to listen and dilute the bitterness that had settled within his broken heart. After all, in the wise words of a former greenhouse coffee shop owner (even though Osvald still didn’t agree with the coffee part):

“A bit o’ sweetness helps everything along. As in coffee, as in life.”

♪ I get to love you♡♪

[angled-blade]

Six Steps or Less.

Pairing(s): Bubba Sawyer/Reader

Warning(s): Vulgar language, detailed depiction of violence & murder.

Additional: 5,099 words. Written in 2nd POV [You/Your]. Storyline is set a few years before the first movie, Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974).

It was Bubba who got used to you first, seeing how he had been the one responsible for you ending up in the Sawyer home in the way you did. 

Of course, it took a lot of begging (most of it being ignored) for the eldest Sawyer to even consider keeping what was supposed to be food alive of all things.

—

“Agh—Fine, ya’ blubberin’ idiot!” The sharp tone in his elder brother’s voice kept him at a standstill. Bubba’s attention flickers toward the direction of Drayton’s. His rambling did not seem to stop despite Drayton’s yell, irritating him further in the process. “Stop yer damn squabblin’ and keep that thing away someplace where I can’t see ’em! Oh, fer God’s sake, would it kill fer ya’ to think fer yerself!?” Drayton hollered, his hand reaching for the broom handle. Bubba was quick to move, securing you in his arms as he dashed upstairs, much to your distress. He’s opened the door with a grunt, carelessly dropping you onto a worn out mattress, Bubba’s dark eyes focusing on your helpless cries. With a shake of his head, he unravelled the rope that he planned to use for the furniture with Nubbins’ help. 

Having a captive person in his own room, let alone tying them up, was very much unplanned, if his trembling hands failed to show it. Bubba whines, grabbing at your wrists with one hand and tied them together with the other. He made sure the ropes weren’t too tight nor were they too loose—he’s seen the nasty bruising it leaves and that it’s “a sight for sore eyes”, according to Choptop. Backing away with a few steps, he clicks his tongue before tapping your cheek as an attempt to grab your attention. Not that he was expecting it, seeing how disorientated you seem now that the situation appeared to sink in for you. Your terror appeared to end as swiftly once he had you in his room. Your gaze trailed onto him, your chest heaving as you dare not make a sound in his presence. 

You found your body becoming limp—and it had you falling from the bed, much to Bubba’s horror. He held onto you, reducing any chance for you to be harmed any further. He’s squealing now, rising slowly to rest you atop the mattress once again before leaving the room. Shutting the door behind him, he heads downstairs to eat the dinner he has prepared for his family.

Bubba ate dinner as usual, though his sheepishness is evermore present as he casts nervous glances toward the hallway where the stairs were.

—

You didn’t know how you got here, laid on an exhausted mattress that has most definitely endured its residents, some springs exposed with it poking out from the linen. 

You doubted you could run, especially knowing that there was more than one occupant in the house you are currently in. Who knew if running away was even possible anymore—with that man who grabbed at you and lifted you up as if you weighed nothing. You remembered him, oh so vividly. Hell, you watched as he viciously sawed down the rest of your friends. You don’t even know what you even said to get out of the situation, but you sure as hell remembered that it was a stupid idea you tore out within a few seconds of his arrival. 

A helpless tug, if you will, at the humanity he might have had—treating him nicely in exchange for freedom—an attempt that you initially doubted would work with the brutality he had previously committed before your very eyes. Much to your surprise, he let you go. You didn’t stop to question it, breaking out into a sprint as you ran far from what you presumed was his territory. You didn’t dare look back, fearing that he had changed his mind and gone after you. Soon, you’d be at home, away from the horrors. It was most likely trespassing—but you were no person to speculate and investigate yourself. You prayed that his act of mercy was permanent, reliving the horrors of your slain friends as if it were a broken record. It had only been a few days after that incident—you supposed you should have expected his return for you. With individuals capable of murder, you should have looked at the gift horse in the mouth—just what were you thinking? No serial killer would leave a victim to possibly run away and rat on their existence, that was stupid to assume. You braced for the chilling pull at the starter and the screaming whir of the chainsaw coming to life. 

What you didn’t expect, however, was the fact that there were other killers involved. One of them who had broken into your home to finish what they started.

It was all such a blur, feeling scrawny hands grab at your neck and mouth, a man’s voice cheering loudly as he slammed your head against the dining table you were sitting by. “Ooh, took me sum’ time to get to you~u.” His voice slurred and was almost incomprehensive, but you could imagine the grin behind his words. “I can see why Bubs’ got so held up over ya’! You look like someone who can run real good. Now…—” a hand of his gripped your wrists tightly. “I’m draggin’ you back with your friends. Now, don’t struggle. It’ll be real easy for the both o’ us.”

There really was no point in him talking to you, seeing how he knocked you out right after.

With only a few glimpses that you had amidst the throbbing that seemed to shoot through your skull.

—

With the little bits of consciousness you clung onto desperately, you were disadvantaged temporarily with sight, though you were lucky enough to hear. You heard two voices—albeit, they were muffled. They seemed hushed, but you didn’t know for sure.

“... Dray… look a… wha’ I fou…!”

“I said I …’t wanna see anymore o’ yer … finds!”

The voices seem to grow louder with each passing second, two pairs of footsteps nearing you.

“You got lucky wit’ one, huh. Ain’t that right, ya’ halfwit?” This man’s voice sounded eerily similar to gravel, the tone of his voice poorly masking the underlying threat and hidden malice that he most definitely had. You rubbed away the built up discharge from your eyes, hoping to catch a better look of who was talking. 

“This one’s the one that got away from Bubba! Ran real good, I tell you.” There was that voice again, though now you had a physical description to pair with it. He looked to be unhinged, a proud grin over his face as he finished speaking. His hair was a mess and untidy. There was also a huge red mark on his right cheek, though you didn’t feel as daring to ask about it.

“That thing o’er there? Guess yer wandering ain’t as useless as it been back then—” You watched the other man, who seemed significantly older than the one who kidnapped you, walk toward a metal door before pounding against it loudly. His previously neutral expression quickly turned into a scowl. 

“Get yer ass outta ’ere, Bubba!” He yelled, pounding against the metal door once more. That’s where you heard a third pair of footsteps, said pair that was extremely familiar with every thump in each step taken. You froze in your place, fear settling in your entire being as the door slid open, revealing the looming figure of the killer who had previously set you free a few days prior. His perplexed gaze turned into one of mortification once it landed onto you. It seemed he didn’t expect to see you again either. One thing you realised was that he didn’t start making noises as he did that very night. You found yourself almost surprised before your ears were invaded with the terrified scream that escaped from the killer you now learnt the name of. You trembled with the loud cacophony of voices intertwining and overlapping one another—despite the fact that the attention no longer was on you. 

—

The voices died down with only Bubba’s frantic squabbling, the only one remaining, Nubbins was sent outside as per Drayton’s order. Something about leaving the ‘important things’ to him. The younger man left, not before he blew raspberries. 

“Just what are ya tryin’ ta do, ya big lug?” Drayton hissed, his voice unravelling the disorganised chaos that was Bubba’s feelings, resulting in said pleas to turn into harrowing screams. The youngest Sawyer began frantically waving about his arms and using a plethora of unintelligible hand gestures, his gaze settled on your figure as a means to emphasise whatever case he’s had. He was frantic in his movement, stepping in front of you. You don’t know whether or not it was a good thing—him shielding you from the already angered Drayton.

—

You returned to consciousness, finding yourself still laid across the worn out bed. Nothing seemed to have happened to you, from what you could see. No new marks had been made against your skin, much to your own surprise. You expected to wake up delirious, with your body sawed in half—just like how he did your friends. The stench in the room you were in at the moment didn’t seem too strong in comparison to the room downstairs, where that older guy and your kidnapper had you in—the smell of blood and flesh awfully prominent.

A few moments pass by fairly quickly before you hear the familiar footsteps nearing the door to the bedroom.

Thump. 

Thump..

You feared not for your safety—you already knew you would be at their mercy—but for your demise to not be long and humiliating.

Thump.

You froze in position, your body overtaken with terror as a hand grabbed at the door knob. Slowly, the knob was twisted with a soft creak. Cautious eyes peered in through the small crack, confused gibberish bubbling from the throat of the hulking man. You noticed that his hands were occupied, his foot nudging the door open before he stepped inside. On one hand, he held onto a plate of what you presumed were sausage, paired with eggs and vegetables. The other held a fork. He used his foot once more to drag a wooden chair to the side of the bed—the side that you were on—huffs escaped him. Taking a seat, the killer was quick to stab the sausage and hold it up to you. He taps the tip of your lower lip with the sausage, leaving you to realise that he was attempting to feed you. Your fear is what held you in place, leaving you only to obediently bite down. The killer coos excitedly, his voice a calm rumble—a stark contrast to the screams and wails that would have erupted from him that you have seen each time you’ve met him. He continued to feed you until the plate was empty. He left right after, shutting the door closed.

You supposed this was a means to prolong your death a little longer. There really was no other choice for you, leaving you to only play along with this disconcerting game of house. 

—

Bubba felt his stomach fluttering with butterflies at your newfound compliance, assuming that this obedience is due to you accepting the situation as it was. You didn’t seem to scream—That meant you understood, right? Oh, Bubba’s excited. Sure, it was a little frightening at first. He never quite expected to see the victim he let go last time to reappear before him again—he honestly expected you to keep running as you did back then. He’s back downstairs now, scrubbing the plate that he brought out for you with a damp cloth. 

He wonders what you thought of him, now that you had met his immediate family. The first time around, you called him very nice things in that soft, lilting tone you used—that was what got his attention and ultimately had him sparing you. You never once stooped as low as your friends did with their taunting words regarding his appearance or demeanour. You complimented him, without your body wavering in fear or it shivering with disgust as you spoke. He noted how genuine you were in complimenting his appearance, as if it were as true as grass being the colour green. Nevertheless, you struck a chord within him. Your comments had you appear kind and nonjudgmental—two traits that are very difficult to find amongst people, including his family, even! Bubba doesn’t know if it was a spur of the moment, or maybe he isn’t quite used to all sorts of people yet—but he’s gotten quite attached.

He finds himself a little more comfortable with you, which has him desiring more of the positive feeling. He isn’t sure how he feels about this predicament himself, seeing how it has never happened to him before—and if he ever did, he would have definitely remembered it. Bubba only hopes that you stick around long enough to have him understanding such a confusing emotion.

—

Time has passed by then. You stopped counting after the fourth week in captivity, seeing how you yourself knew that there was no point in escaping. Everything remained the same, with the routine that you endured every morning to consume breakfast that had been prepared. Despite the fact that it was a cycle of living you were getting used to, you had also been allowed more freedom—it was having permission to move around freely in the house. It had been permitted by Drayton, due to him ‘getting tired’ of Bubba’s pleas to do so, though he allowed it for other reasons as well.

“Fine! Yer gonna be able to trot ’bout in this home o’ ours, but I expect ya ta pull yer weight in ’ere—How’s cleanin’ the house and fixin’ up the laundry fer us sound?” 

You did not hesitate in accepting Drayton’s offer, the prospects of being able to enjoy an aspect of freedom a much needed desire to indulge in. Anything other than being cooped up in that bedroom, please. A breath of fresh air would work too in easing your mind and processing all that has happened. Perhaps you could also use the stored aside energy to put into the chores assigned by Drayton, taking advantage of it as an outlet to distract yourself from all that was distressful. You could use it as a way to figure out escape this place but you honestly gave up on the idea altogether, seeing how distance does not deter the Sawyers from finding you. Even if you did, you’d know the next time you cross paths with even one of them—which seems inevitable—your fate would be sealed.

Here you were, seated down on the back porch of the Sawyer home, a metal bucket filled with soapy water and a wicker basket filled to the brim with multiple articles of clothing. You grabbed out one of the large button up shirts from the pile of clothes. It was one of Bubba’s, seeing how it was dirtier than the others with the blood splattered all across it. You find yourself annoyed with the caked blood, cursing quietly at it as you scrub the shirt clean. Speaking of Bubba, you learned a lot more about the man the longer you lived with him. That of itself was a development you never quite expected, let alone accept in the way you did. Never would you have imagined things would turn out as smoothly as you had experienced. Despite crossing over the already frigid boundaries with your kidnapping—it appeared that Bubba seemed to respect you enough to not trample over ones that remained with you such as privacy. Adding further to it, you noticed that Bubba would get more nervous whenever you were near, his hands fumbling with whatever he held in his hands at that moment. 

As time passed, you realised that you and Bubba became closer, whether you knew it or not. You recall being a lot more physically involved, patting his back as a praise on the good work and helping him out in the kitchen. You learnt of Bubba’s habits, quirks and personality, as he learnt about yours. You understood each other in a sense, though you find yourself fondly thinking of the man, as if you were—

You wringed the shirt from the water, washing away the previous thoughts you had about Bubba along with it. You returned to tending to the rest of the clothing, before heading out toward the direction of the clothesline. One by one, you hang the clothes with the additional help of wooden clothes pegs. You got to the last shirt, the very same one that had you transfixed and reflecting on your situation with the Sawyers. You hung it as well, though now your gaze on it was tense, your stomach bubbling with mixed feelings altogether. It’s already been more than a few weeks, yes, but you never once felt that fear that you held onto in the beginning. It was strange, feeling this belief of accepting this situation and assuming it a part of your normal lifestyle. You know that you should feel angry, perhaps feel more driven in getting away from the Sawyers and leave for good—

But where to, then? A small, naive voice in your heart questions, leaving you once again. To get help? Don’t humour yourself. Another seemed to scoff, taking advantage of your phlegmatic disposition as it crossed out the hopeful possibilities of escape. You’ve been here for so long, why didn’t you leave then? A separate train of thought disturbs you, leaving you with a feeling of confusion that seems to weigh heavy on your shoulders.

Why didn’t you try to leave? You couldn’t reason that you did so out of fear—it had been so clearly established that you had little fear left for yourself and safety. You couldn’t reason that there was no way out—you knew the Sawyers had their own routines to get to, and, with a little bit of effort, you could have left much earlier. Strangely enough, you found yourself perturbed with the fact that you felt a shred of guilt for even thinking of leaving the Sawyers. You felt even worse once you honed in on Bubba, your ‘bunkmate’—a tacit term loosely used in the context that you were in—had seemed to grow on you, as if he were a stray worming his way into your heart. You struggled to find words to describe what it was that you felt toward Bubba, but you knew that it was nothing close to resentment. Despite you having been a would-be-victim who had turned into ‘one of the Sawyers’, you found yourself caring for them, and even more with Bubba.

You realised much later on that you deeply cared for him; it did not matter whether or not Bubba knew.

You stumbled backwards, your hands tightly gripping the wicker basket. The sun appeared to set quickly, the orange hue transitioning slowly into a darker red. Not long after, you felt wet droplets gently hitting against your skin. It didn’t take long for you to infer that it would rain soon. You speedwalked back into the Sawyer home, setting the basket atop the bone decorated table that was by the back door. Soon enough, you hear the familiar footsteps of Drayton with Bubba following after; similar to a duckling, you joked to yourself.

To your surprise, it was Nubbins in place of Bubba. As if he knew what you were thinking, Drayton stifles a few of his own chuckles before he answers you.

“Bubba’s out handling food. No need ta’ worry so much about ’im. He can take care o’ himself just fine.” The eldest assured you, waving a hand to dispel any particular doubt you had settling in. You still worried for Bubba, it grew tenfold once you heard the soft pitter-patter of the rain outside intensifying into a thunderous shower. The atmosphere grew darker the longer you stared out the window, though, you made an attempt to quell your already tense demeanour.

The attempt was a waste of time, with a bloodcurdling scream belonging to a woman piercing through the heavy rainfall—in which her voice began to sound closer as seconds passed by. Pig squeals and apprehensive wails followed after, alerting you in an instant. While it is apparent that Bubba is returning home after all, something went awfully wrong to the extent that it led victims home, too.

Your body was now on autopilot, making quick work in moving toward the kitchen. Dominant hand grasped the wooden handle of the kitchen knife, just in time for you to hear the screams once more with frantic banging against the front door. In no time at all, a loud thud resounded through the house with the sound of the creaky door splitting open with a crack. Frenzied footsteps trample along the wooden floorboards, with you pressed against the wall opposite to the intruder inside the home. There were shaky intakes of breath now, the runaway gulping up the little comfort she had left in the sudden silence. You knew better, hearing the all too familiar pig squealing of Bubba’s as he makes his entrance, his chainsaw starting as well. It resumed the screaming, that was definite.

One thing that was not definite, however, was that the victim would retaliate just as violently. You didn’t see it, but you could hear her cry before Bubba could have the chainsaw up and running. It was Bubba’s turn to scream just as loudly, which had you leaving from your hidden spot behind the wall, providing you with a scene that intensified the mixed feelings you had all afternoon.

Bubba was incapacitated, his struggling form on the floor as he suffered the brunt force of the woman’s punches. His arms were in front of his face as a shield, blocking the punches. He was whining as loud as he could, the fear most prominent in his eyes now. The crackling of the thunder outside muffled the acts of violence committed. 

You didn’t know what came over you, seeing how your apprehensive propensity quickly changed into a hot, unbearable feeling.  The only palpable reaction you concluded from it was rage. Unfiltered, raw rage. You began to move into view, frightening Bubba in the process as he continued to struggle even more. You didn’t know if it were out of a fear of being hurt, you didn’t stop to care once you neared your target. You focused on the woman, hand gripping the handle firmly.

She stood up after she saw him trembling, beginning to kick his stomach as she yelled taunts in his direction. That’s when you made your move, you shoved her to the side—her back against the floor with you straddling her. She looked back, eyes widened in disbelief as she took in the sight of you. She directed her words toward you—words that seemed to be nothing but static as quick as they were said. You cut the woman’s screaming short with a knife through the neck. You retracted the knife and stabbed once again, through the heart this time. Closing your eyes shut, the screams stopped with a stillness in the atmosphere, as if time stopped for you as you took the moment to relax.

—

Bubba’s wails of sheer terror died down once he saw you on the other woman, though he quickly backed away from the scene, his wandering eyes switching from you onto her. When he saw you kill her, he felt his heart leap to his throat, rendering him unable to verbalise his reaction. 

Did he see that correctly? Did you really kill that girl? You protected him—you killed to protect him? Oh, that fluttering feeling is back and it is even more overwhelming than before. He’s felt it before whenever you doted on him with that sweet smile of yours, or when you said ‘Goodnight’ with your back turned to him as you slept—you appeared to trust him wholly, which had his chest feeling awfully fuzzy. He knew he was attracted to you physically and toward the gentle kindness you exuded to him and his family on a day to day basis. This time felt different to him, with the feelings from simple attraction transitioning into something far deeper than he could comprehend himself. Bubba couldn’t help but stare at you, confused thoughts racing through his mind, though the moment was short lived once he heard Drayton.

Heavy footsteps sounded through the house, Drayton emerged from the stairs. Irritation was present across his face as he made his way in the living room.

“Fer God’s sake! What in the hell’s goin’ on ’ere!? Yer gonna get in a whole lot o’ trouble if that’s the last thing I’d do—” Drayton’s words fall short, met with the sight of you two. Bubba finds himself immediately replying to his brother with stuttered blubbering, getting up shakily as his muscles ached in response to the sudden movement. He hoped that you weren’t going to be punished, seeing how it was his fault for not handling the victim sooner. 

“Well… I’ll be damned. If that ain’ no sign of ’em bein’ a Sawyer, I don’t know what is.” 

Bubba stopped in his tracks at Drayton’s words. He tilted his head slightly, confusion overtaking his thoughts. What did he mean?

“...Go and get ’em up in the room, go and settle yer feelings with ’em then.” Drayton pauses and Bubba prepares himself for the worst—perhaps he’s getting punished after getting you back in bed. He doesn’t know it, but he’s sure it isn’t going to be good— “I’ll handle the mess ’ere.”

“That thing’s a worrywart fer ya’. Yer noggin’s empty as hell if ya’ can’t even see it with it right in yer stupid face.” Drayton scoffed at the youngest as he answered him. Though his stern expression untensed a smidgen as he glanced back at you. 

Bubba blinked in surprise, though seeing Drayton’s face morph back into anger, he stumbled toward you as if he were a baby lamb. It was enough to snap you from spacing out, your gaze now relaxed when you realised it was Bubba staring back at you. Bubba found himself believing in the fact that he loved you as he did so. 

—

He ushered you from the living room, and back into his bedroom. You seated yourself on the mattress, Bubba was on the chair. The very same chair that he sat on from the beginning, when Nubbins took you.

Despite his attempts on shielding you away from seeing the aftermath, the blood on your hands was enough of a story that told you what you did.

“I killed someone.” You began, voice strangely emotionless as the words left your mouth.

Yes, you did. He attempted to articulate, garbled speech came out instead as he nodded. He didn’t get why you needed to remind yourself about it.

“I just fucking killed someone. I—I’m.. I'm a terrible—Oh... Oh god.” You rambled to yourself out loud, breath now turning shaky and laboured once the realisation settled in. Bubba panics. 

Don’t say that! You aren’t terrible! You killed, yes, but you did it to protect him! Bubba sees you tear up for the first time in a long while, and panics further. Why are you crying? You did it for a good reason—Are those that are family not supposed to protect one another? Bubba tries to speak to dispel the panic that he’s sure that you were feeling, but to no avail. 

Bubba began to whimper, feeling hopeless as he instinctively wrapped his arms around you. He doesn’t know what else to do. Much to his surprise, you seemed to cling onto him in response. You began to sob openly into his shoulder, the scent of iron invading your nose, though you ignored it in exchange for the needed physical affection Bubba provides. In your perspective, it seemed that the hug was Bubba’s way to say that it’s okay. That made you all the more emotional, to know he still stayed despite what you did. You realised that this spike in emotion was also due to your feelings for him, one that you sealed aside to survive.

You realised early on that there wasn’t any need for you to survive with how easily you got used to the Sawyer life, so much so that you only needed to learn how to live. The longer you stayed with Bubba, the stronger the feelings you had for him, and the more difficult it became to set it aside as you did before—as if doing so was mocking your pathetic excuse for ‘survival’. You kept making excuses as a mediocre way to hide what was already clear to you. You found yourself backed against a wall, though the prospects of being truthful appearing easier for you to do now.

Tears still streamed down your cheeks as well as your voice now sounding shaky and choked up, but you made an attempt. You breathed heavily to stabilise yourself and form your thoughts more fluidly.

“Bubba—... Bubba.” you whispered softly. He leans back, his bovine eyes staring back at yours. You could see the worry and concern he held for you, it was genuine and pure; all of it, it seems, was reserved for you. You had your answer, seeing it for yourself. There was no reason to hide away with another excuse like you did all the other times. Acknowledging your feelings as they were, you leant forward once more. 

“I love you, Bubba.” you uttered, tears now endless at your admittance. “I love you so, so much.” You feared his reaction to your words, with many of your thoughts now assuming the worst. You trembled at the lack of response, though your thoughts did not have the time to settle once you felt Bubba’s thumb near your face. He wiped away the tears as gently as he could, before holding you close to his chest once more. Bubba squeals excitedly, a hand of his now cradling your head. Throughout the display of affection provided, Bubba decided to take it one step further. It didn’t take long for you to feel the gentle kiss he gave to the crown of your head.

With that, you were sure of his feelings for you now. It was as strong as it did for you. 

You were his, as much as he was yours.

Fun fact; The title is actually a part of the planning to write the story! I won’t bore you with the details, haha.

It has been a while since I tried my hand in writing long, self insert pieces. I hope it is comprehensive as much as I could possibly can in conveying it for you all.

Thanks for reading and happy holidays!! (:

[ragstitch]

|| 5 SONGS THAT ALWAYS INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSES. ||

tagged by: @collectalong (:3)

tagging: @jaxxtadc , @aslyfcx , @mouffete , @tearfulribbons , @rubberrabbitt ... and my other mutuals, steal if you like!

01. Pure Imagination (Gene Wilder)

“ There is no life I know

To compare with pure imagination

Living there, you'll be free

If you truly wish to be ”

02. My Favorite Things (Oscar Hammerstein Ii / Richard Rodgers)

“ When the dog bites

When the bee stings

When I'm feeling sad

I simply remember my favorite things

And then I don't feel so bad ”

03. Frusration Tears (Kimiko Glenn)

“ Well I’m not cryin', I'm not sobbin’, I'm not blubberin', no!

I'm not weeping, I am keeping it all under control

I swear - it's not as bad as it appears

Guys, I swear these are frustration tears! ”

04. Passing Through (Kaden MacKay)

“ We may never know why

Time is always in limited supply

But we'll live to regret it

If we get it

And then let it slip by

It can never rewind ”

05. Pandemonium (25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee)

“ We have rights We have rights! That’s why we complain

Damn life bites But I like competition In these lights Can you feel our pain?

Life is random and unfair Life is Pandemonium That’s the reason we despair Life is Pandemonium! ”

[tojiistyping]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream, and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carrier, against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, on the back of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce, in the pool, in the garden, bent over, in the basement, against the window, having the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, era ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffing, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind blogging, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan introducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can't walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, vulcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell devolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening sex ‼️‼️

- 🦈

ya sure have put a lot of thought into this, haven't ya? like ya wouldn't be a blubberin' mess the second i bottomed out

[normystical]

if neither alastor nor vox pull a centaurworld frustration tears, i will be sobbin', blubberin', weepin', bawlin', caterwaulin', boo-hooin', cryin', and overall NOT fine

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

He's a stankin' puss! What? He's a stinkin' puss! He's a muckin' puss! He's a gargymin' puss! He's a blubberin' puss! He's an explodin' puss! He's a filthy puss!

[sekwar]

Hoo boy! Order up, old Salmon here's got a big ol' bucket of pain fries on his plate, and the emotional ketchup is a blubberin' well of tears.

[ourple-octoling]

“ i could have lost you today! do you know what that would have done to me? ” — Cerrin

shippy meme

A literal undying hero.

"I-I still made it out alive... Didn't I? Quit your blubberin', Cereal. It's gonna take more than a bear to kill me!"

Vio coughed into his sleeve; dark purple blood spews out of his mouth.

His fight with Grizz was... brutal to say the least. It was amazing how Vio was still alive after that entire fight in space. Yes, he was tired and took quite a beating-- Especially with the claw scratch across his chest. But he was still standing... Somewhat. Kiwi on the other hand gurgled in a way it sounded worried. Even his little buddy knew he was taking it too far.

"L-Let's go home.."