#but i have just been an emotional wreck ever since last night

[opera-ghost]

just wanted to share this clip of the final lair before i post the greg raoul audio because i still haven't recovered. look out for:

emilie trying to whisper a response to ben's "i love you" through tears

ben repeating "i love you" right after her breathless reply

ben pressing the veil to his face, inhaling deeply, then sobbing into it :')

small bit of greg raoul<3

[in1-nutshell]

Hello, hope you’re doing well!!

I actually sent this in the last time you opened your inbox but I’m guessing it got drowned out by the other requests lol(it’s okay tho dw about it) so hopefully this stray request can make it even tho it’s a little late😓

I have a request with a cybertronian reader (Gender neutral) + swerve

-

Little info about reader, they were a performer but more specifically a singer who performed in bars.

Reader and swerve met at a bar when they were performing and he immediately was smitten, so after they were done swerve approached reader to tell them how amazing they were but he was a nervous WRECK. Not only did they have an amazing voice but they were drop dead gorgeous(Basically whatever the cybertronian equivalent for a model is).

Both joined the lost light and when swerve opened his bar, the reader would help him run it, sometimes even perform on the occasion.

Eventually some bots become curious about readers and swerves relationship since they looked very close, the reader always listening to swerves rambles, never shutting him up and sometimes seeing them crack a smile or even laugh at his jokes. Only ever really showing him any type of affection/emotion since they come of aloof and stoic when talking to others. So they ask the question to him (or reader)and he breaks the bombshell that they are conjuxes and the bots go crazy💀💀

No one would’ve expect swerve to be able to bag a baddie like reader but it happened

-

The whole dynamic is basically just Jessica rabbit and Roger rabbit, the bots in question can be of any of your choosing!

Remember to take breaks when needed and take care of yourself!!

Hi! Sorry to here about the request. Some request do get lost (thanks for understanding!)

Now I can finally get this written!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the singer and being Swerve's Conjunx

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

The Lost Light had many duos and partners on board.

Some that made sense like Rewind and Chromedome.

Another duo’s that came as a pleasant surprise like Tailgate and Cyclonus.

But one of the more unlikely duos on the ship was Buddy and Swerve.

Swerve had told the patrons many times about the story of how they met.

Many are still trying to figure out how truthful the story really is.

They would ask Buddy… but they kind of intimidate many of the patrons at the bar.

According to the bartender, Swerve had been looking around the local bars for ideas on how to design his own bar.

It was one night he decided to stick around one of the bars for the entertainment section.

That’s when he saw them.

Swerve nursing a cube of engex.

“Hey, what’s for the entertainment tonight? Trivia? Drunk lobbing?”--Swerve

“Nah, Buddy’s singing tonight.”—Random Mech

“Buddy?”--Swerve

The bot sighs.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna miss this. Their performance… well you’ll see.”—Random Mech

Swerve shrugs it off but starts to notice the bar quiet down significantly and many bots looking at the stage with a look he could only describe as lovestruck.

“Please welcome once again to the stage, our wonderful singer, Buddy.”—Random Mech

Buddy’s tall frame walks slowly out of the curtains.

Their frame lighting up with the spotlight as the other lights had dimmed.

Swerve could defiantly see why everyone was excited.

They had a frame of a super model!

And that voice!

Swerve was certain that he too had a lovestruck look on his faceplate when the first verse spilled from their lips.

Swerve tells the patrons that he had admired Buddy’s talent and ended up asking them their com line, so when he did have his own bar, he would contact them.

Not many are convinced that this is true, or at least the whole truth.

Thanks to a certain minibot with a camera bolted to his helm, he had the story on what happened after the show.

Swerve had been a nervous wreck the entire performance.

Buddy had noticed him in the crowd looking like he was going to short circuit at any moment.

Honestly, if they could, they would have stopped singing to go check up on the minibot.

After their performance they personally went to the minibot to see if he was okay.

Swerve stumbling out of the bar only to bump into someone’s leg.

“Oh! Sorry about that! Didn’t watch where I was going and—”--Swerve

His voice stops as he looks up at the beauty that was on stage a mere second ago.

“Are you okay? You looked like you needed help back there.”--Buddy

“N-nope! I mean Nah, I’m good. I’m fine! Everything’s fine!”--Swerve

Buddy smiles at him.

“I’m Buddy. What’s your name?”--Buddy

“Swerve…”--Swerve

“Well Swerve, I’ve been singing at this bar for a while now to know most of the regulars, yet, I’ve never seen you around.”--Buddy

“Yeah, Kind of looking around seeing how bars go and all. I wanna make a place of my own one day with a friend of mine and, well, I wanted to see what gets the bots coming back, besides the engex of course.”--Swerve

Buddy chuckles a bit looking at the flustered minibot.

They look over at the slightly less crowded booth at one corner of the bar.

“There’s an empty booth over there and I sure could go for a drink… do you mind accompanying me? Maybe talk a bit more about that bar of yours.”--Buddy

Swerve thinks for a second before agreeing to the drink.

He did end up giving them his private comline that night and Buddy ended up having a nice night with a cute minibot.

The rest was history.

No one had yet figured out how Buddy could stand to be with Swerve and his rambling.

They were quiet and had a neutral look on their faceplate when they weren’t performing. Yet here they were listening to Swerve’s chatter before and after their performances without any complaint.

If anything, few bots have seen smiles, chuckles and bits of laughter from the taller bot.

“What’s between you and Buddy anyways?”--Brainstorm

“Well it all started—”--Swerve

“Yes, I get that part, but what are you two exactly? Surely, Amica Endura or maybe you haven’t worked up to that point yet.”

Swerve gives the bot a confused look.

“They’re my Conjunx?”—Swerve

Brainstorm feels his optic twitch.

“What?”--Brainstorm

“They’re my—”--Swerve

“I heard that! But how?! Your you and Buddy is… Just how?!”--Brainstorm

Swerve shrugs as Buddy takes the stage.

Brainstorm walks back to his table with Chromedome and Rewind pouting.

“I still don’t believe what he said.”—Brainstorm

Chromedome looks up from his engex.

“What did Swerve say?”--Chromedome

“He said he and Buddy are Conjunx Endura.”—Brainstorm

Chromedome nearly spits out his drink.

Rewind seems unfazed by this news.

“Really?!”--Chromedome

“Knew it.”—Rewind

Both bots look at the minibot curiously.

“And how did you know?”--Chromedome

Rewind points to the stage.

“Watch the optics.”--Rewind

The group looks at Buddy’s optics.

They are firmly planted at the bartender pouring their voice into the love song in the mic.

“… Maybe he’s right…”--Brainstorm

That's them!

[stellamancer]

was talking to sel last night as she was writing her sugu, and an idea i mentioned to ari popped back into mind despite me banishing it away. i don't have much else to say except don't let me write late at night guys. context for this fic can be found here.

contains: gn! reader, questionable characterization of suguru in my opinion, character death, necrophilia, possibly dead dove do not eat just to be safe. unedited.

It's been two weeks since you died but Suguru just can't get you out of his mind.

He doesn't quite know why, you were just a non-sorcerer after all, just a monkey. But the curses he took from you, the seemingly endless supply of foul and spiteful curses, were nothing short of exquisite. Terrible and powerful things born of a twisted love that you never wanted.

A love that cost you your life.

Something about that makes Suguru's blood boil. Perhaps it's anger at the one who ended your life in a fit of possessive rage. It's ridiculous, Suguru thinks, that that monkey thought you would ever belong to him when you were always—

Suguru heads to a room tucked into a far corner of the temple he calls his home, no one is allowed in this area except him, it's his own private quarters where he can sit and meditate. His family is kind and respectful so naturally they give him that space.

(No one wants to know what will happen to them if they violate it.)

The room is chilly, noticeably colder than the rest of his home. Some of his curses reside here, peaceful and obedient as they linger at the edges of the room, surrounding a singular futon. The futon's occupant lays there, unaware of Suguru's entrance. Quietly, he slides the door shut and takes a seat beside the futon, but still the figure doesn't stir.

He reaches down and gently touches their face, smiling slightly as he touches the soft, cool skin of their cheek. His fingers travel down, tracing their jaw before resting on the column of their throat. His hand lingers there for a moment and he thinks of what would happen if he were to squeeze hard enough.

He frowns and pulls his hand away.

And then his thoughts drift to you. Your wonderful curses, your terrible death. The memory is vivid in his mind— your body slumped against the wall, your bloodstained clothes, the light as it left your eyes. But thing Suguru remembers most of all was how not a single curse was born from you as you lay there dying. It was surprising, he thinks, given the circumstances of your death. It's not uncommon for violent murders to give birth to spectacular curses— the final form of the victims' terror and anguish lingering around their corpses.

But you bore no curses.

Meaning you didn't die cursing this world.

Suguru clicks his tongue. What a shame. He's sure you could have produced a marvelous curse. Perhaps if that monkey hadn't killed you. Perhaps if it has been something else instead. Perhaps.... If it had been him.

He thinks about it, if he had been the one to kill you, if he were the one to take your life.

(Though, it was already—)

Would you have struggled? Would you have cried? Would you have begged him for him to spare you? Now that he thinks of it, Suguru had never seen you show fear, even when you came week after week, haunted by curses from an unworthy suitor, curses that were wrecking your insipid little life, you never seemed scared of them.

(Suguru is well aware you only came to see him.)

It's unfortunate, he thinks, as he absentmindedly reaches for the person in the futon one more, fingers brushing against their cheek as he brushes the hair from their face. He wishes he'd seen your face contort with fear.

He wishes he could have seen the full range of your emotions.

Suguru reaches around and gently cupping the person's cheek, he tilts their face toward his. He looks down at them, but they are devoid of expression— of emotion— devoid of life.

And, it will never return to them— never return to you.

Suguru stares down at your body, his dark eyes unreadable as he gently caresses the swell of your cheek with his thumb. He doesn't know why he keeps you, why he has his curses keep your body fresh, when you no longer have any curses to offer, no love to give.

Suguru has never really considered himself to be the sentimental type, but he can't stop himself as he leans down toward you. As he closes in, he wonders what kind of expression you would have if you were to see. A joyous one? A bashful one? Or would you even be sad?

He supposes it doesn't matter in the end as his lips brush against yours, cold and unmoving.

It's been two weeks since you died but Suguru just can't let you go. 

[sincerestlove]

Sunshine

'tis a sad, angsty and emotional night for me, girlies. thus, i have produced this sad piece of work. do y'all ever get cripplingly depressed because you love reneé so much and you realize that she doesn't know that you exist? yeah, me too. that's where i'm at tonight. have i been sulking and on the brink of tears for the last 4 hours...perhaps. womp womp.

Pairing: Reneé Rapp x Reader

Warnings: talks of depression, negative thoughts, self-doubt. reneé being caring, sweet and supportive of mental health struggles. please read at your own discretion.

~

The room was dark.

It had been dark for hours. You weren’t sure how many, but knew it was more than enough. The sunshine was long gone, you were almost certain. You had shut the blinds some hours before crawling into the bed, unmoving since then.

You were hungry, but didn’t have it in you to get up and eat. You were tired, but your mind was too hyperactive to sleep.

You were mentally exhausted.

The weight of an internal battle kept you glued to the mattress, a dull ache settling between your temples. Your stomach felt heavy, though it had been empty for much too long.

Some days, like today, everything felt like too much. You felt alone, you felt lonely, and just wanted everything to go away and leave you to rot.

Right now, it seemed like there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

You had just decided to close your eyes when you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door, the wood creaking as it opened slowly. “Y/N?”

You laid still, wondering if she wouldn’t notice you under the mountain of pillows and blankets and just leave.

She didn’t.

“Are you okay?” The soft voice of the woman you were in love with filled your ears, feeling your chest tighten the slightest bit at the concern in it. You still didn’t respond though, couldn't, and after a moment, the bed dipped beside you. A warm hand sat on your back atop the comforter. “Y/N, can you sit up for me, please?”

You debated the request silently, wondering if you even had the energy.

After another long pause of silence, she spoke again. “Please, baby, for me?”

Another pause.

Then, you slowly sat up, thankful for the darkness engulfing the room, so that she couldn’t clearly see what you looked like. You knew you looked like an absolute train wreck. Taking care of yourself was too difficult right now, on your own. You blinked a few times, attempting to get your bearings.

You felt warm hands come up to cup your cheeks, her thumb pads wiping back and forth. Just then, you noticed your face was wet, and she was wiping tears away.

When did you start crying?

“Hey, love. I’m here, it’s Reneé.” She spoke softly, as if talking too loudly would scare you away. “What happened?”

You blinked a few times more, meeting the gaze of her soft, pretty blue eyes. They looked at you with such love and understanding, it made your tears flow harder. A sliver of moonlight poured through the blinds, casting a gentle glow on her face. She looked so pretty, was all you could think, bangs brushing against her long eyelashes.

Your bottom lip quivered, the familiar feeling of sharpness piercing your throat. “I don’t know. I just think you deserve better than this. Than me.”

You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat, breaking eye contact. “You can be with whoever you want, Reneé. Should be, with whoever you want. You are literally famous. I’m nothing, a nobody.” You felt hollow pang in your chest, eyes glazing over as each insult passed your lips. You truly believed the words you were saying about yourself and she could see that.

The blonde took you into her arms, burrowing her face into your neck. You felt her tears falling on your skin, her hands balling into the back of your shirt. “No, baby, don’t ever say that about yourself.” She pulled back, taking your face into her hands again. The coldness of her rings focused your attention, meeting her gaze again.

Her eyes steeled, boring into yours with pure intention. “None of that is true, Y/N. None of it. You are so beautiful, kind, smart, ambitious and perfect for me. I want you. I need you.”

She spoke sincerely, and you felt an ache watching tears rush down her face. “I never want to hear you say those things about yourself again. Baby, I love you so much. I would give you every single star in the sky, if I could. Hell, you want the moon, too? I'll bring it to you on a silver platter. You mean everything to me, absolutely everything. I couldn’t do life without you, don’t you get that?” She sighed, brushing her slender fingers along your face, tracing your jawline, eyebrows, nose, ears, lips. “You are my heart and soul. Fuck, I wouldn’t be here without you.”

She paused for a moment, coming closer to rest her forehead against yours. You instinctively moved out of your blankets to rest your hands on her sides, feeling her skin on yours. She was warm and pliant. Real. “I know things get hard, baby. Trust me, I do. But you have to talk to me. That’s what I’m here for.” Her nose bumped yours, sweet breath fanning against your lips as she spoke. “You can’t get rid of me, I’m here for the long haul.” That comment got a soft laugh out of you, one that Reneé took as a small victory.

She took your hands into hers, running smooth shapes into your palms. Leaning back to look into your eyes again, she took a deep breath. “You have to talk to me, Y/N. You can’t just run and hide. I’ve been texting you for hours, I was worried sick, so I came home.” You felt a bubble of guilt in your stomach, knowing you should’ve checked your phone at least once. “I am always a phone call or text away, you know that. I will drop anything and everything for you. That’s how much you mean to me.” You nodded slowly, feeling more like yourself again as she spoke to you.

"I’m sorry, Ne.” The blonde sighed again, shaking her head. She pressed a soft, gentle kiss on your forehead, wrapping you up into her embrace. She smelled good, sweet, like vanilla. You deeply inhaled, settling into her lap and nuzzling into the warm skin of her neck.

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. Just promise me that you’ll talk to me next time, okay? I’m here for you. And if you want to talk to a therapist or need anything more to help you, talk to me, and we will get you whatever you need. I promise. Do you promise?”

You nodded, feeling the dark thoughts and emotions pour out of your body and mind with the tears that were finally coming to a stop. You exhaled deeply, moving yourself impossibly closer to her. “Yes, Ne. I promise. I will talk to you.”

Her body physically relaxed at your assurance - you didn’t realize how tensed up she was. “Good. Thank you, Y/N.” She let you both sit in silence for a while, her whispering affirmations and reassurance into your ear, while you clung to her and calmed down. “What do you need now, sweetheart?”

“Shower. Food. Kisses.” You mumbled, your stomach growling on queue. Reneé laughed, pressing one last lingering kiss to your chapped lips. She didn’t care, she would kiss you every second of every day, chapped lips and all.

“Shower, food and kisses it is.”

You looked up and into her eyes, which were filled with love.

Yeah. No matter how dark your mind could get, she was it. She was the sunshine that would always light your way and bring you back to her.

~

i hope you enjoyed!

as always, please leave a request :)

i hope you all are doing well and taking care of yourselves. each and every one of you is so loved and cared for. if you ever need to talk about anything, my dm's are always open.

[kechiwrites]

decided to break it

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 4/?

synopsis: babies change everything, and neither you, nor simon handle change very well at all.

wc: 2.2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt with no comfort, language, break up fic, abandonment issues, no gendered language, discussions and depictions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: im back <3, more tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if i feel up to formatting on this hell site. for kitten, shia, nori, 👩🏿‍🍼 anon, and everyone else who cheered me up when i felt super down post-holidays

new to baby blue? start here.

"Fuck." You murmur, maybe for the fourth time since the 15 minute timer had gone off on your phone. The word doesn’t seem heavy enough to sum up how you’re feeling, but you give it a few more tries anyway, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word 'pregnant', however, is the heaviest you’ve ever seen, latching onto your limbs and skin and dragging you to the floor beneath you. ‘Pregnant’ stares you in the face from the stick in your shaking hands, punctuated with a little smiley face you can barely see through tears. In the back of your mind you kind of wished you'd gotten the kind with the little ambiguous pink lines, just so you could pretend you didn't understand what two lines instead of one meant. Just for a little bit. Alas, the pharmacist recommended the slightly more expensive test, the kind that gives you a week estimate. The kind that tells you you've been fucked for 3-4 weeks now.

Every emotion you'd been feeling up until then cedes to white hot panic. It's hard to breathe in your little blue bathroom.

You wonder what he'll say. 

No. 

You dread what he’ll say. 

It’s nothing you two have ever talked about, not in the cold blackness of night, when he’d sat in your arms with his face bare to you and murmured every gory detail of his upbringing to you and not a goddamn therapist. Not the following morning when you’d sobbed your terror of the future, and losing everything you had into his lap. And certainly not when you had mutually decided you were “getting serious”.

And now you have to. You have to tell Simon you’re pregnant.

There's a pit in your stomach when he comes by that night, mask off and eyes warm, considering like they always are. You get swept up in how it feels to be near him, to have him crowd into your space, soaking your senses in his scent, his warmth. He kisses you gently, so soft it makes you want to cry. He used to say he wasn't capable of being like that. Not with you. Not with anyone. 

Instead of sobbing into his chest like you’re desperate to, you chide him about wearing his boots in the house. You take the time he needs to unlace them to memorize what being with him feels like in this moment, the last time things will be easy. 

He levers up and nudges his boots over to yours, where they sit side by side. Tears choke your voice again, and you’re praying it’s just a pregnancy thing rather than a ‘you being an unstable wreck’ thing.

“Sit.” You turn to the kitchen, setting your kettle on the stove and turning the knob to high. He hunkers down on the worn cream leather of your couch. You linger in front of your stovetop as long as you can, fussing with the mug Simon uses almost always, an ugly misshapen pink thing you’d made at a beginner ceramics class four years ago. It’s chipped at the lip, rose coloured glaze cracked, exposing the beige clay underneath it. Your hand glances over boxes of tea, back and forth over colourful labels that may as well be written in gibberish for all the luck you're having reading them. 

It feels like there's no air in the room, like the secret under your t-shirt is taking it all, vacuum sealing your room until your chest burns and your head feels like it's going to pop. You tear open a brand new box of earl grey, stuffing it back onto your shelf when the tea bag is sat securely in the cup. 

"What's wrong?” He grouses from the couch, and it’s only then that you realize your shoulders are hunched up around your ears. 

“I..” your stomach rolls and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. You can hear him stir in his seat behind you, shifting forward so he can peer at you from your living room. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and oh god, maybe you actually will throw up, it’s too early for morning sickness right? Unless the stupid tests were wrong and now you’re going to cover your countertops in the stew you had for lun-

“Hey.” Simon is standing behind you now, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you lightly until you whip around to face him. The kettle is screaming now, filling your home with that shrill, high shriek of steam from the boiling water whistling through the appliance's tiny spout. 

Somehow it’s still quieter than your pulse pounding in your ear.

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out, if only to stop yourself from retching over Simon’s socked feet. God, it’s like time stops, then it splits and cracks in clean halves. Into before and after he knew. Before and after his concerned expression crumbled into disbelief, before and after he schooled that disbelief into placid nothingness. And it’s not like you’d entertained the delusion that he’d be happy about it. But the silent hang time before he reacts is this terrible, hollow, unknown that tears up your insides and relishes in the shiny, red viscera. 

A gruff, quiet "Are you sure?" is what you get from him, when he finally recovers, and you try so hard not to let it bother you. It's a shock. A surprise. A loud bang in the middle of a serene night, a cannon going off in your face, a gunshot into the sky when you thought the race was an hour from starting. 

You try to give him a bit of grace. Still, the pit in your stomach grows.

Now it's a bit of a sinkhole.

"Baby, I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't sure." You move to snag your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to tug him close so you can hold each other, support each other, but he take a small step backwards, letting his palms slip from your shoulders. 

The sinkhole is a cavern, yawning wide, open and empty. 

You toss your hope and love inside.

“I need…some time.” He mutters, slinking out of your space, out of the kitchen and back into your entryway. 

'Time to fucking what?' you think, but hold back. You know Simon. You love Simon. And you remember where he's come from. What he's come from. You realize a second too late you should be following him, and when you stumble over the kitchen threshold, he’s tying up his boots, his broad back facing you. You try to peer around him, try to get a look at his face, desperate to gauge where he’s at. But when you notice he’s knocked your shoes over in his scramble to get away, to be anywhere but here, you stop moving..

“Y-yeah. Okay. Just..uh, get back to me soon okay?” you stutter, and wrap your arms around yourself, like you know Simon won't. Not with the way his hands are shaking. 

He doesn’t even respond this time. 

The soldier just stands. He opens your front door. And walks out. Leaving you in your entryway. Water past its boiling point in the kettle.

You don’t see him again until you’re four, nearly five months along, the bump under your clothes now impossible to hide. When you stumble into your home, exhausted from working, he’s in your living room. Sitting there in his mask at your tiny dining room table. Like no time has passed at all. Like he should be there. You realize you never did get your spare house key back.

“Get out.” you spit, blood boiling under your skin. 

"I know you're upset-" He begins, like he’s about to deliver a practiced speech.

"Get the fuck out!" Your tone is caustic, and you hope it burns him, hope it strips off all the facade on the rotting structure he is underneath.

"I never meant to leave it so long. This." He won't even say it. Can't even refer to you, let alone your baby. He stands up and becomes this big, dark mass in the bright space of your living room, black mask, black shirt, black boots, just a huge black hole that sucks up every good feeling you’d had in his absence, every ray of light that’d shone through the dark gloom he’d left behind. Nothing escapes his pull. 

He peers at you from the gap in his mask. The stark white skull stretched over his face mocks you, maliciously whispers in your ear; ‘Did you think you knew him? That he was honest with you? Open to you?’

And you had. You did. You thought you were making progress, building some semblance of a future, falling in love.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of it.

"You want to apologize, take the fucking mask off Simon." Your voice breaks, and part of you hopes he hears it for the plea it is. Hopes he understands what you’re asking of him. Hopes he feels how bad you missed him, under the hurt and pain and bitter, bitter loneliness. If he would just take it off, just pull the stupid fabric over his face and show you he was still yours under there, that he’d make a mistake and he’s ready now, then maybe the two of you could fix it. This.

Instead, his silence, his stillness cracks open your ribcage and pours black ink over your heart.

Humiliation and anger simmer on your tongue. What comes next is shockingly easy. "Oh you can't do it, huh? Can't be a fucking person with me, huh?" You shove at his chest, and he takes it, staring at you with pain in his eyes. Like this is hurting him.

"I shouldn't have waited so long, but I-" he steps towards you and it feels so good to rip away from his touch. To step back from his advance.

"No!” You shout, and your face is so hot, skin ablaze with righteous anger. “Shut up! Three months? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

And yes, one month of that was deployment, you’d known that, you’d talked about it, together. One month of no contact. One month of sand and heat and blood. But the other two months had been that white hot panic you'd felt on your own, in that tiny bathroom with the peeling blue wallpaper he'd promised he'd help you strip and replace. The other months had been missed calls, and ignored texts and you getting bigger under your sweaters because unlike him, you couldn't just take a break from the situation.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You shove past him, deeper into your home, spinning around so he’s closer to your entryway than you are. “Don’t you ever show your face here again, do you hear me?” You’re screaming now, much to Ghost’s visible discomfort. Good. You hope your nosy ass neighbours call the cops. You hope they physically remove his pathetic ass. You hope they embarrass him. (It isn’t very likely, of course. But God, could you dream).

“You can't just keep it from me.” He steps closer and you lament that he has you on the backfoot. It’s your space, your home and yet it feels as though you’re the one who’s out of place, off kilter and uncomfortable. You glare at him. 

“It’s mine too.”

‘It’ he says, and that bothers you. Irks you. Him calling your baby an ‘it’. 

“Give me a fucking break, it wasn’t yours when you left me, you couldn’t wait to get your sorry ass out of here when I told you. Now you wanna play daddy? I don’t fucking think so.” You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms, leaving aching crescents in their wake. 

“And you know what? Maybe it’s my fault for wanting to be with someone who is so fundamentally fucking broken that he couldn’t fucking bear to show me his goddamn face until I’d begged him. Maybe I’m the idiot for thinking you could ever be capable of love, of decency. I needed you. And you abandoned me, Simon. You are a fucking monster.” 

The word hangs in the air, hovering between the two of you where it can’t be taken back, and it sure as hell can’t be forgotten.

“You are good at distancing yourself, you are good at killing your feelings. Keep doing that. Stay the fuck away from me and my kid.” You’re panting when you finish, and everything hurts, one of your hands is bleeding, your eyelids prickle with the pain of unshed tears, your throat feels strained and tight. He nods once, jerky and quick, before he takes an unbalanced step back. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s looking for something, anything other than hurt and hatred.

But there’s nothing else to find.

He turns, opening your front door and trudging out, heavy footfalls bracketing short moments of gut wrenching silence. It feels final. But it doesn’t feel good. Not like you thought it might.

He’s halfway into his SUV when you scramble out your front door, shouting over your porch railing to him in your driveway. “And get rid of my fucking keys!” He stares at you, standing stockstill, before he gets in the driver’s seat and pulls away.

whew, nice to post ghosty-poo again

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[punksyeet]

ᰔᩚ Mama To Be ᰔᩚ

Plot: While expecting their first daughter, Gianna (OC) and her boyfriend Josh are going through all the emotions. Specifically Josh, who’s a nervous wreck and trying to protect his girls 24/7.

Warning: Hefty flirting & mature language!

My eyes flutter open as I wake up to an uncomfortable feeling in my lower stomach.

I look down and see my belly button area slightly moving, signaling that baby girl is awake and kicking.

I look over at the clock on my nightstand - 3:04am.

Motherhood is not for the weak!

I shake my head and smile softly, gently rubbing my belly.

I lay back on my pillows and look over to my left, my eyes met with my favorite sight: my beautiful man peacefully sleeping, his muscular and tattooed chest rising and falling, alongside light snores pouring from his parted lips.

It brings me so much joy to see him at peace, especially since he's gone through hell and back for this baby already.

Josh has been a very protective father so far.

He feels the need to be by my side 24/7, helping me with everything.

Even if it means staying up all night, he wants both me and our baby to be protected at all times.

I gently kiss his lower lip and lay back down, deciding to scroll on my phone for a bit.

About 15 minutes later, my stomach starts to rumble.

Not me being hungry at 4am! 🥲

I gently wiggle out of his arms, doing my very best not to wake him.

If he finds out that I'm leaving the room - or even the bed - without him, he'll throw a fit.

I swing my legs off the bed, step into my slippers, and quietly shuffle out of the room to the kitchen.

After a little while of seeing what we have, I settle for my current favorite craving: ice cream.

I take out one of the many containers of "Half Baked" from Ben & Jerry's that Josh got me yesterday, grab a spoon, take a seat on the counter, and dig in.

The flavor of the cookie dough and brownies mixed with the vanilla ice cream satisfy me immediately.

** Josh's POV **

Half asleep, I roll over to cuddle my lady some more.

When I feel an empty space and only bed sheets, I sit up immediately.

Where the hell is my girl?

"Baby?" I call, hoping she's just in the bathroom and that I'm overreacting.

When I get no response, panic starts to set in.

What if she's hurt?

What if she fell?

What if something happened to our baby?

Fuck!

I quickly hop out of bed and search all over the room.

From the closet, to the bathroom, to even under the bed - she's nowhere to be found.

I throw on some sweatpants and a hoodie, and race downstairs to grab my keys from the key hook near the front door.

I need to find my lady. And fast.

Just when I'm about to unlock the front door, I hear a familiar voice call from the kitchen.

"Baby?" Gianna calls from, what sounds like, the kitchen.

I instantly spin around and, when I see her, I fall to my knees in relief.

"Gianna," I say breathlessly. "Thank God."

She walks over to me and places a comforting hand on my back. "Baby what's wrong? Where are you going?"

I look up at her. "I couldn't find you and I panicked. Babe, it's 3:30 in the morning. Whatchu even doing up at this time?"

She takes a deep breath before responding. "I had a craving. And I didn't wanna wake you after all the stress you've been under lately."

She rubs her belly when saying that last part.

I hang my head, still trying to watch my breath, before standing up.

"Baby," I say, looking down at her and cupping her face. "I don't give a fuck if I'm up for two days straight and finally getting some rest. You need to tell me when you plan on going anywhere. So I can be with you."

She bites her lip and looks me in the eyes before responding. "Joshua, I'm pregnant. Not crippled."

"What?" I ask, tilting my head.

Where is this coming from?

Since when is me looking out for her an issue?

"Ever since I showed you that the test came back positive," she begins, tears starting to form in her eyes. "You've been super overprotective. And don't get me wrong, I love you for caring about me. For caring about our baby. And I know it's gonna pay off when he or she comes. But I need some freedom before I explode."

** Gianna's POV **

After finally telling Josh how I've been feeling, he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face.

Is he mad?

Is he offended?

Fuck!

Why would I do this?

How could I do this?

After a long silence, I finally decide to speak up again and break it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

As tears begin to roll down my face, I look down.

I hear Josh take a deep breath before gently lifting my face up by my chin.

"You don't need to be sorry," he reassures under his breath. "Because you're right."

My face goes from regretful to confused. "I am?"

"You are,” he replies with a soft smile on his face, stroking my cheek with this thumb.

"I've been so overprotective about you and our baby," he continues, reaching out and stroking my side. "That I didn't even take a second to think about how it might overwhelm you."

I bite my lower lip gently, not responding.

"The truth is," he speaks up again. "I'm scared to death. I'm scared to be a father for the first time. I'm gonna be responsible for a human being for the rest of my life. For the rest of our lives. And I've been one big ass worrywart. I'm sorry, baby."

He sniffles and lowers his head, wiping his tears away with his sleeve.

I just sit there watching, allowing the comfortable silence to roll on, not knowing what to say.

It’s not because I don’t wanna comfort him, but because he’s never opened up about the baby like this.

It’s almost comforting in a way, to know that he cares this deeply.

Of course I knew he does, but to hear him finally be vocal about his feelings, it means so much to me.

"I'm scared too," I finally reply, my voice just over a whisper, fiddling with my fingers.

He lifts his head again and allows our eyes to meet once more. “Really?"

I nod, giving him a soft smile. "Terrified. But I know that once baby is here, we're gonna rock parenthood. And we're gonna rock it together."

He smiles back and gently kisses my forehead before pressing ours together. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I reply, wrapping him into a hug. "You're gonna be the best daddy."

He immediately hugs back, kissing my shoulder and rubbing my back.

Once we pull away, he cups my face and we share a deep and passionate kiss.

"Half baked?" he asks, licking his lips once we pull away.

"Only the best flavor," I respond, folding my arms and smirking.

He gives me a mean mug. "Girl, hell nah. Cherry Garcia is where it's at."

"I guess we all can't have good taste," I tease before rolling my eyes playfully.

"Girl bring yo ass-" he squeezes my cheeks and pulls me in by my face for another kiss.

I giggle against his lips and, hand in hand, we make our way back upstairs to the bedroom.

He helps me back into bed and hops in himself afterwards.

Once we get comfortable, he lays on his stomach and rubs my belly.

"Daddy can't wait to meet you," he coos, feathering light kisses onto it. "And he loves you so much."

I lean my head back on the pillow and smile softly, playing with his hair.

I can't wait to watch him experience fatherhood - he's gonna be the best dad in the world.

Liked by uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, trinity_fatu, rikishi, and 91.3k others

giannamacri ⏳🖤

View all 6.2k comments

uceyjucey Proud of you baby 🫶🏽

jonathanfatu Can't wait ❤️

trinity_fatu SO EXCITEDDD 🥹😭😍

Liked by giannamacri, jonathanfatu, wwe, romanreigns, and 176.5k others

uceyjucey Strongest woman I know 🖤

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giannamacri best daddy in the world 🔜 🥹🫶🏽

jonathanfatu Love yall ❤️

wwe So happy for you two! 🥰

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[iprefervillains]

Give me flowers and an old love.

I was doing a little writing excercise using the prompt "The flowers died on monday", which I read sometime today on my dash. What can I say, things escalated quickly and 5 sentences turned into 665 words. Unfortunately I'm not longer able to find the prompt to give credit to the person who posted it. So shout out to whoever and Kavya Dixit whose poem I used as a title. Anyway here it is:

----

The Flowers died on Monday.

Jake had brought them the night they had returned from the carrier, asking softly if they could talk.

Bradley had taken one look at him, unruly blond hair, sunken eyes and slightly shaking hands, before opening the door wider in silent invitation before heading inside to get a vase.

Jake had been a nervous wreck on the drive to Bradley’s house.

Scratch that, he had been a nervous wreck ever since Maverick had picked Bradley over him.

He knew the risks their job came with, but up to that point, he still had hoped he would be the one flying the mission.

Jake dying wasn’t a problem, he could count on one hand the people who would mourn him.

But Bradley dying? The thought had nearly torn him apart, making him sharper, bringing out the worst version of him during training.

The hours between Bradley's jet going down and the news about an airborne F14 had been hell.

He hadn’t been able to leave this jet, caught up in a whirlwind of emotions; grief, love, pain, regret and desperation flying through his head.

In the end, this might have saved them all. The time between the news breaking and his unauthorized lift off mere seconds, instead of minutes.

He had entered the small beach house with trepidation, taking off his shoes and placing them neatly next to Bradley's. The sight nearly had brought tears to his eyes.

It had reminded him of a better time.

A time when their shoes stood exactly like this daily, the closet in the house not only filled with old Hawaii shirts but a stetson and cowboy boots too.

A time when the words spoken between them were soft and loving instead of loud and spiteful.

A time when they were just Bradley and Jake, not Rooster and Hangman.

He wanted it back, he wanted Bradley back.

He needed him more than air.

He was willing to swallow all his pride and dignity if it meant getting a second chance. He was ready to beg and cry on his knees if necessary.

He had prepared a speech in his head.

As soon as they sat on the couch though, the flowers sitting in front of them, soulful brown eyes meeting green ones, he had forgotten all about it.

Instead, he had rambled, stumbling his way through apologies and explainations. Everything that had pent up inside of him in the last 2 years since their breakup poured out of him until his breath came hard and his cheeks were wet from the tears he had been unable to hold back any longer.

The kiss had been a surprise. The words coming from Bradley next had been an even better one.

„Baby, I need you to breathe for me. Can’t have you turn blue in the face before I get to tell you I still love you.“

„You do?“

„You are it for me, Jake. That never changed, nor will it ever change. We will still need to talk about some things but I want us back. I want you back. In my arms, in our home and most importantly in my life. I spent the last two years living in regret and hurt; my heart ripped straight from my chest, it bruised and battered choosing to follow you when you left, leaving me hollow, hoping you would return to me one day but unable to ask you to.“

They had spent the night intertwined in their bed, trading soft words and even softer kisses after that.

By the time the flowers had died on Monday, Jake was certain they would be alright.

His shoes were back in line with Bradley's, the stetson was sitting back in it's old place above the clothing rail with Hawaii shirts, Bradley’s heart was no longer bruised and battered but still with Jake, who dutifully returned to him every evening.

----

On Tuesday they filled the vase with new flowers.

This time, Bradley had brought them for Jake.

Thanks for reading. I will probably post this on AO3 too tomorrow.

[dsireland86]

There Is Beauty In The Pain

Chapter 6 Part 2

18+ below the cut

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa   @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp

Sophie:

I brushed my teeth, placing my brush in the holder once finished and turned out the bathroom light. Climbing into bed, I sat for a moment, thinking about the day and all that had happened. I was still in a whirlwind of emotions about it, feeling like it was a first time thing, even though it certainly wasn’t.

Noah’s hands on me, exploring places only one other man had ever gone, was the last thing I ever expected, especially after the fight we had the other day.

To start with, Perry’s texts came out of nowhere, blindsiding me to the point that it made me panic. It had been almost three months since I’d last seen him, since those last horrible, fucked-up texts and video (which were still on my phone), were sent to me.

I’d blocked his number, but he must have gotten another number, because that morning, a text came through that said “I miss you and I’m sorry” from a random number I didn’t recognize, automatically thinking they had the wrong number.

I wrote back and said such, but another text came through quickly that read:

“No, I don’t. But I have yours memorized, Baby.”

I knew then I was screwed. The conversation with Perry was brief, but the things he told me were different than the other times before. Even his tone sounded different. I wanted to believe him, but after the night before with Noah, I just couldn’t.

I told Perry to go away and  leave me alone, instantly blocking the number, but keeping the texts just in case. And then it happened. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t control the corrupted thoughts running through my head, and that morning, Noah could tell how wrecked I was. He thought it was his fault and it crushed me that he felt that way. 

I just couldn’t explain it the right way to him, yet, because none of it made sense in my head yet. Then I made the mistake of calling him Perry, and man, that made things go south real fast.

I stayed to myself for a few days, eventually opening the prison gates in mind and allowing myself some freedom. Noah was there, waiting for me with a smile, a hug, and an apology which I accepted gratefully, ready to put the past behind me and move on. 

The moment Noah touched me for the first time, my skin screamed. It wasn’t enough to just have his hands on me. I wanted him in me, molding me to him and allowing him to evade every single crack, corner and crevice of my body. And he did; mostly.

His finger inside me was something I never thought would be so addictive. He knew what he was doing when he twisted or hooked, or inserted another finger, almost filling me.

The way he softly yet confidently circled my clit, making me say things I’d never said before because I was never allowed to speak during sex with Perry. He said it broke his concentration, when really, now I knew he was probably thinking about somebody else. 

Then came the moment when Noah went fully down on me, holding nothing back as he licked, sucked, and kissed my center like it had always belonged to him. In reality I guess it did because Perry, never once, did even a quarter of what Noah was doing. Even though I was forced to pleasure him and make him happy and content, Perry said that sort of thing wasn’t for him. 

Noah brought me to such an unreal climax, that the way I came for him was out of this world. It gave me such a high, I was literally seeing stars, even making him cum in his jeans. 

All of these little things Noah did to me earlier in the day attached themselves to my memory, refusing to forget any detail. They would stay there forever, buried deep in a secret place. But the best part of it all was how Noah made my heart feel through it all.

He was sweet and gentle and made me feel completely worthy of everything he did to and for me

I had never experienced an orgasm like that, nor being praised and worshiped in the way Noah had. The entire experience was euphoric, almost ethereal, and I hoped it wasn’t just a one time thing. 

The subtle knock on the door brought me out from reminiscing and it opened slowly. Noah stood in the entrance, looking so fucking delicious that I had to squeeze my legs together, trying to suppress the strong sensual, wet feeling cascading between them. I knew Noah noticed because of the way he smiled at me.

“I just came to check on you and see if you were okay?”

“Well, that was sweet of you,” I answered, patting the spot next to me on the bed. Noah’s eyes met mine as he made his way over to the bed, dropping on the mattress next to me. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied.

I wasn’t oblivious to the way Noah’s eyes raked over me. I was in my sleepy pants and a tank top and didn’t have the chance to grab my hoodie before he walked in. I was chilly, goosebumps spreading over my skin for proof and making my nipples harden.  Noah’s eyes lingered on my breasts a little longer than I think he meant to because when he looked up at me, a slight reddish hue graced his cheeks.  

I reached out and caressed his cheek, feeling the weight of his head leaning into my palm. He looked at me again, this time a little sleepier. 

Noah had a face that could fit anywhere. Sometimes he was hot as hell, other times cute. Right now, he was absolutely adorable, but then other times, I’ve seen him look so angry that it scared me. But I knew I was safe with him. I knew Noah would never, ever hurt me. 

“Sleepy?” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Did Matt mention anything about earlier,” I asked, quietly. Noah shook his head, slipping his hand between my knees.

“I think he was too embarrassed to,” he chuckled, letting his hand slide down my thigh. Even through the light fabric of my pants I could feel the heaviness of his touch, sparking a sudden need inside me. I sighed, indulging myself in the feeling of Noah’s hands on me again.

Without taking my eyes off his, I lowered my legs and let them fall open, hearing the strangled groan leave his chest as I did so, proving he wanted me, just as much as I wanted him.

“Round two,” Noah smirked, leaning over and laying his lips on me, kissing me softly. I took his hands, lacing his long, tattooed fingers with ming. My mouth fell open with his, our tongues pressing together as Noah let go of my hands and wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting and pulling me into his lap, where he continued to kiss me. I bit back and swallowed the moans that were begging to escape. I didn’t want to sound so needy and desperate.

Playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, I settled comfortably in Noah’s lap, unintentionally wiggling against the hard bulge pressed against my heated center. 

It was Noah who moaned first, separating us for a moment to look at me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Sophie,” he said with absoluteness. I knew he was telling the truth. I could see it in his eyes. 

“You’re pretty hot yourself,” I giggled, running my fingertips up and down his back, feeling his muscles relax beneath my touch.

“What are we doing?” he asked, his deep chocolate eyes searching mine.

“I don’t know,” I answered, lowering my gaze.

Noah lifted my chin and kissed me again, slipping his hands under my tank top and placing them on the skin of my back. His hands felt like fire to my icy skin, making me shiver. I welcomed his touch, though. It melted away every unwanted touch from my past every time I felt it. 

His fingertips danced along my spine as memories began to unfold, images that had my eyes filling with tears. I threw my arms around his neck and rested my cheek against his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” 

I nodded, unable to answer for fear he’d hear the tears in my voice. 

“Hey, look at me,” Noah said, pulling me away from him.

I Didn't. 

“Look at me,” he repeated, tone calm.

But I couldn't. I didn’t want him to see me feeling weak again.

His fingers were on my chin, lifting it to look at him. His eyes darted between mine and I could see the worry behind them.

“You're safe,” Noah whispered, cupping my face in his large hands, eyes boring straight into me as if penetrating my soul.

“I promise.” 

That word. Promise. God how that word could break me.  

He pulled me against him, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

“I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being easy,” I whimpered, wiping the loose tears that trickled down my cheeks

“Well, I don't want easy, I never asked for it. I just want you.” 

I started to shake my head, but Noah stopped me by grabbing my face.

“Just the way you are,” he said, confidently. 

I stared into his eyes, waiting to see that same look I would see in Perry’s eyes when he would lie to me, but I didn’t see it. 

“Really?”

“Really,” Noah repeated, without missing a beat, running his thumbs over my lips. I frowned in confusion.

“Even the broken pieces?”

I wondered how that was even possible; to love someone, broken pieces and all. 

Noah pecked my lips. “Especially the broken pieces,” he winked. 

My heart suddenly felt ten times lighter as my head hit his chest and I laid it against it, relishing the sound of his beating heart.

Folio:

I knew the risk of it happening. I knew it was possible. I just didn’t think it would be so soon, so fast. 

Sophie fell for him; Noah and all his charm. Of course she did. Why wouldn't she? After all, they shared a unique moment with each other and given everything that happened to her in the last month, Noah was the one her heart felt safe with. They weren't officially together, but all of us knew there was something there. 

But there was an undeniable pull between me and her, one that came and went like a hot summer storm.  

There were moments that were simple and mundane, our friendship blossoming into something I never knew I needed. 

But then there were moments when the fever between us was so hot, so incredibly strong, that it felt like we could burn the world down around us. 

I couldn’t explain it. I knew Sophie felt something whenever we were together. I could always see it in her eyes, especially when we touched, but neither one of us ever said anything.

So, I kept all my feelings to myself because of how worried I was about losing her for good. If I confessed the way I felt there was a chance she'd be angry with me or worse I'd scare her away and that wasn't something I was willing to risk. 

There were hints, though that spoke loudly; the way she would watch me so intently and her reaction when I played my drum kit, or the way she would cuddle up close to me on our random fishing adventures. 

But my favorite was when I took her out on my bike a few times while Noah spent the morning with Ash at the gym. The warm California air rushed through us both, making the space between hot and sweaty as she clung to me tightly. 

Sometimes she'd rest her head on my back and I would hold her arm pressed tightly around my waist. It was magical, being with Sophie that way. It always felt right and I often thought I'd maybe stand a chance. 

But each time we got home and I watched her and Noah hug and greet each other, it felt like I'd been punched in the gut or worse, had my heart ripped out of my chest. I'd pretend I didn't notice, only to hide myself away in my room for a while, sometimes getting high or just stareing at the ceiling thinking about what it would be like if it was me she had fallen for instead of Noah.

The answer was always the same, too; I'd be the happiest man in the world. 

Six Months Later

Noah:

The warm liquid seeped through my shorts, creating a large grayish stain to appear. Luckily, we were the only ones home, so I didn’t risk the chance of getting shit from any of the guys before getting the chance to change.

“See what you fucking do to me,” I smiled after Sophie pulled me in between her thighs, wrapping her legs around the back of mine. 

Her arousal made me aroused and right after her orgasm hit her, mine came crashing into me before I could stop it.

Sophie held my face between her hands and kissed me, slipping her tongue into my mouth and pressing it to mine. The way she kissed me fully had me wrecked. My legs were still shaking. 

She ran her hands through my hair, wrapping them behind my neck.

“I fucking love it when you do that,” I moaned, lowering my head to her shoulder. 

“What, this?” running her hands through my hair, her nails raking against my scalp. 

“Yup. That.” 

Sophie chuckled.

I raised my head and looked over her face, taking in all the sweet little imperfections I noticed: a few small scars on her cheekbones and under her eyes, proof of all the hard months of physical abuse she lived through.

“So beautiful,” I whispered to myself.

Sophie shook her head and instantly looked away, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Hey, look at me,” slipping my finger under her chin and turning her face towards me. 

“You are,” I assured her. My lips formed a thin line and curved into a smile, but Sophie covered her face with her hands as if she was embarrassed. I pulled them away, and brought them to my chest instead, holding them there tightly.

‘Don't you dare cover your face, especially not from me,” I scolded. “You've spent too much of your life hiding that beautiful face because of…” 

but I didn't finish my thought. I didn't want to say the asshole’s name that was responsible for all of Sophie’s trauma in the past. I didn't like bringing up the abuse either and all the shit he put her through.

“Yeah, well, you know,” I huffed, I mumbled.

I bushed the loose hair out of Sophie’s face, forcing a smile. I was fighting hard against the urge of wanting to finally be inside her, filling her and worshiping her body the way it deserved to be.

But I was the one choosing to wait for sex. I wanted to give her more time to adjust to everything that was happening in her world and all around her and not feel forced or pressured just to satisfy me. 

The soft touch of her fingers as they slid down my cheek when she touched me spoke louder than words. It was refreshing and I couldn’t resist leaning into her touch. 

I had so much to tell Sophie. Over the last nine and a half months, I'd learned everything about her, yet I hadn’t been fully transparent with her. 

I had secrets of my own that I wasn't sure I was capable of telling her, things about my past that still haunted me, but I knew I had to try. And soon.

"I'm ready Noah, I'm ready for you to have all of me.” 

Was she serious? My forehead creased and I knew Sophie could easily read the expression on my face. 

“Sophie, are you sure? Don't you think,” “I have been thinking, Noah! That's all I've been doing! I want you, Noah. I need you, now.”

She stared up at me with her doleful eyes, making me weaker by the second. “I’m through with waiting.” 

My hands ached to touch her, my arms to hold her. “Are you sure?” I whispered, sinking down closer to her lips. They were a mere inches apart from each other when she whispered back, “Yes.” 

Fuck.

Our lips crash together in a cry of desperate eagerness. Sophie pulled me into her causing me to have to straddle her lap as my hands tangled around her face and then her hair. I wanted to devour her and suffocate beneath her kisses, consuming as much of her as I could. Her hands found my ass and I uttered a low grumble the moment I felt them attach to me, gripping and tugging on my shorts.  

“Fuck, Sophie,” I breathed, almost falling into her.  “Noah, I want you,” she pleaded.

The way she whined, pulling part of my shorts down and running her hand over my skin had me buckling at the knees, weak as hell.

“Sophie, baby,” I mumbled against her lips, dropping to my knees and cupping her face to kiss her better. I couldn’t resist her intoxicatingly strong need for me anymore. 

I didn't want to. I wanted to give her every part of me, including every dark and dirty secret I had buried deep inside my head. 

“You own me, baby. You fucking own me; body and soul,” I confessed to her, no longer caring how fast any of this was moving. She whimpered again, making my hard, throbbing cock twitch against the zipper of my shorts.

“And everyone is going to know it.”

Sophie stopped, pulling away to look at me.

“Noah, are you sure?”

I smiled at the way she seemed so worried about it. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure about anything before in my life.”

She threw herself back into my arms, clinging to me tightly. 

“Noah, let's go upstairs, please,” she begged me, and my heart started pounding even harder than before. I pulled her to her feet, about to do just that, when my phone went off. The ringer was fucking loud, making both of us jump. 

“Motherfucker,” I groaned, pulling it out of my pocket to see who it was. 

“Fucking Matt.” I ignored it, and slid it back into my pocket. “He can wait,” I said, cupping Sophie’s face again, kissing her already bruised, wet lips. Picking her up bridal style, I head towards the staircase, just as my phone went off again.

“Seriously,” I growled in frustration. It was Matt again. Sophie sighed. “Just answer it. And go clean yourself up,” she laughed, pointing down at my shorts still stained with my release from earlier. “No, I'm just going to ignore it again,” I stated, taking her hand, but she pulled away from me. 

“Don't. He's just going to keep calling or worse show up. Just answer it. We'll have time for us later.” 

Sophie laid her hand gently on my arm, standing on her tiptoes to kiss me. I grumbled and answered the phone, knowing she was right. 

“Okay, what? Someone better be dying Matt, I swear to god. You just interrupted the most significant moment in the history of me and Sophie.” 

“Noah.” 

The somber tone in Matt's voice made stop halfway up the stairs. 

“Matt, what’s wrong?” 

There was a brief pause. 

“Noah, I've got some really fucked up news that you're not going to like. I only found out a little bit ago myself.”

I hadn't heard the kind of tone in Matt's voice since… fuck.”

“She's back, isn't she,” I stated, pausing halfway up the stairs. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest and I felt like I might throw up. The world around me started to become a little bury as I carefully sat down on the step below me. 

“Yeah, she is, Noah. Sarah's back.

[honeyedmiller]

Law of Attraction — Chapter Five: Saudade

series masterlist | previous chapter | epilogue

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: professor!joel, professor x student relations, plus size!reader, unresolved feelings at first, angst, lots of emotions, joel is an idiot (in love), flashbacks of sex, shower head masturbation, light alcohol consumption, brief pov swapping, teensy bit of fluff, there won’t be a super happy ending quite yet. no use of y/n.

word count: 4.2k

chapter synopsis: moving on has proven to be a lot harder than you’d both anticipated. when more feelings bubble to the surface, it may be too late to act upon them.

divider by @saradika-graphics

sau·da·de – /souˈdädə/ (noun): an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone.

Adrienne had come home that night to find you agonizingly sobbing on your bedroom floor. The fight that ended things with Joel felt like it’d ripped your heart out as a whole, sewing your ribcage airtight so you could barely fucking breathe. 

She sat on the floor and consoled you, shushing you as you cried into her neck. You felt like a fucking wreck, stuck in the abyss of darkness that had consumed you wholly after he walked out of the front door. 

After your cries dwindled down into sporadic hiccups, you finally came clean to her about everything: how you’d been feeling the past month and a half, what Tess had told you, and how your breakdown was a result of holding back your true feelings for far too long. 

Adrienne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wasn’t mad at you in any sense of the matter, and she didn’t parade around with a sickeningly mockful ‘I told you so.’ She was infuriated with Joel. 

Because, for fuck’s sake, how could he have suggested this whole ordeal with you knowing he didn’t have his shit resolved yet? If he still had uncharted feelings about the situation with his goddamn ex, he should’ve never touched you in the first place. 

A woman, so eager and bright and full of free spirit, had been dwindled down to be filled with hopeless despair—light dulled and spirit trapped in the confines of what could’ve been. 

It’d been a month since that very day, and you were slowly starting to feel like yourself again. 

Tess kept her end of her promise, putting in a good word with the Los Angeles police department as they were in need of a forensic technician. The head of the forensics team had interviewed you over the phone for half an hour before deciding she wanted to meet you in person and talk about what the job would entail in greater detail. She said, in her own words, she needed some ‘fresh minds on her team.’

You were excited to go back home to visit your folks in the midst of this trip. You needed to create new memories, good memories this trip, because last time you were on the west coast you were getting relentlessly fucked by your former professor, accepting his offer to be friends with benefits. 

You swore to yourself you’d never put yourself in such a situation ever again. 

It humiliated you, made you feel foolish, hurt you—the list goes on—but it also taught you. It taught you patience, it taught you resilience, and it taught you the hardships of two emotionally damaged people trying to mold into one. 

You’ll admit, you did miss Joel. Not in the same way you did when it hurt at first, but more so in a way that made you miss the familiarity that floated in the air every time you two were around each other. When you weren’t wracking your brain about your feelings for him, being around him was just… easy. 

He was obviously super intelligible, always had something insightful to say, he was funny, and he actually listened to you in the aspect of daily life. He made you feel seen, which is something you don’t get often with people. 

When your feelings for him weren’t harboring into the depths of your heart, a swirl of anticipation always clutched at you to be around him. You really did miss him. 

You also missed the sex. 

The price that it came with was hefty, but god—you missed the scrape of his facial hair against your trembling thighs, the thickness of his fingers scissoring in and out of you while praising how ‘fuckin’ perfect your pussy is’, his hot tongue swirling against your aching core with a shit-eating grin plastered to his lips as you came undone, his sweet-talking mouth that praised every single inch of your body, and his cock that seemed to connect you two and made it so goddamn difficult to tell where he ended and you began. 

A knock on your bedroom door jostles you from your thoughts, and you turn to see Adrienne standing there with a smile on her face. 

“You ready for tomorrow?” She asks, stepping into your room. She sits down next to your open luggage, reaching down to toy with the frayed knee on one of your packed jeans.

“I am. I’m excited. I always love going back home.” 

And it was true. Texas had grown on you, but California would forever be your home. You missed the sunny weather and the near-constant blue skies. 

“So,” She starts, laying both of her hands in her lap. “If you do get the offer, which I’m sure you will, I could find a job out there too. We could move together, you know, so you wouldn’t have to move back in with your parents.” She shrugs, as if what she proposed was the most nonchalant thing ever. 

“Adri, are you serious?” 

She smiles and nods her head. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve lived in Texas my whole life. You know how bad I’ve wanted to get out for some time now, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity.” 

You shoved your suitcase further up the bed so you could sit next to her, wrapping your arms around her. 

“I’d love it if we moved together, Adri. Truth be told I really wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate life without you being in a different state. Probably would’ve gone fucking insane.” 

You both laugh as she reciprocates the affection. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, babe.” And for that, you were so grateful to have someone like her in your corner. Sometimes it felt like it was you and her against the world. 

-

“Did you finish grading yet?” Tess asks Joel, crossing one leg over the other as she leans back in her chair. The restaurant they were in was relatively quiet, considering it was only the afternoon. 

“I did. Wasn’t too bad.” Joel shrugged, cutting into his steak. 

“Mm. That’s good. So what do you plan on doing now that you’re a free man for two and a half months?”

Joel’s heart sinks. He should be enjoying his vacation wrapped up in you, but because his pride got in the way, he lost you to something that meant a lot to him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he was hoping he’d be able to gain it someday. 

“Nothin’.” He’s curt with his answer, and Tess knows him all too well. 

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

”Why does it matter, Tess?” Joel’s exasperated at this point, really not in the mood to hear I told you so from his best friend. He knows he fucked up. He reminds himself that every single day when he goes to text you, fingers hovering over the keyboard because he doesn’t know the right thing to say. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I want you. 

But it’s too late. 

“Joel,” Tess sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not gonna say what you think I’m gonna say, but I do have one question.” 

Joel looks up at her, her green eyes sincere. 

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you fight harder for her?” 

Joel wasn’t expecting that. That question was like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. Because, honestly, why didn’t he? 

He shrugged at her. 

He thinks it’d be easier to lie and say it was the age difference and you used to be his student and it’d be this whole weird thing, but Tess would see right through him. He knows exactly why, though. 

He was terrified. 

Terrified of getting too attached, terrified of getting hurt, terrified of admitting he was falling in love with you. 

You just graduated. You’re just starting your life as a free woman. He didn’t want to be the one to hold you back. 

He knows you can find someone so much better than him. Someone closer in age, someone that won’t dick you over or spring an awful proposal onto you like he did. Someone who could actually give you what you deserved, which was the whole goddamn world. 

But what he didn’t know was that he had ruined every single man for you, ever. Nobody could compare to him. 

There’s no way he’d ever get to know that though, because he fucking had you. And then he lost you. 

-

The June sun was hot on your back as you unloaded your luggage from the back of your Uber. You had taken an early flight, so it was only around noon when you got to your parents’ house. You unlocked the front door and slipped off your sandals, wheeling your luggage into the living room, only to be met with silence. 

“Mom? Dad?” You called out. More silence. You furrowed your brows and walked further into the house and into the kitchen, stopping when you saw a neon post-it slapped onto the middle of your fridge. 

‘Hey sweetie, you’ll probably arrive home around noon, which means dad is still at work and I’ll be running some errands. Picking up some stuff from the grocery store, too. Making chicken parm tonight. Can’t wait to see you!

Love mom.’

You smile at her note before rolling your suitcase to your old room, deciding to shower first and then settle in.

Exhaustion consumes your body as the inviting droplets of water roll down your skin, warm water relaxing your aching muscles. You were nervous about meeting the head of forensics in two days. This could be a life-altering career for you, and you wanted nothing more. 

Except for Joel, maybe, the depths of your mind sneer at you. You roll your eyes at yourself, ignoring that part of you that fucking aches for him on a near-constant basis. You failed, though. The ache was so bad that it had manifested itself into a pulsating, needy pang between your legs. You sighed as you snatched the shower head from its holder and lowered it between your flesh, warm water gliding over your throbbing cunt with the right amount of pressure. 

God, missing him was already becoming too much. 

-

You didn’t intend to fall asleep after your shower, but your bed was so comfy and you wanted to escape your overactive mind for a bit—so you slipped into a comfortable slumber. Your mom knocked on your door to wake you up, letting you know that dinner was almost done. 

Dinner was full of catching up with your parents. It was nice to spend some time with them again. You hadn’t seen them since you graduated, and before that, Christmas break. It was harder to catch flights back to California just for the hell of it when you were in school, and now, you’re looking at the prospect of being a full-fledged Californian once more. 

You were helping your mom clean up the kitchen, working off your post-meal coma that was surging over your body. 

“Hey honey, are you okay?” Your mom asks as you dry the last of the dishes. You look at her perplexedly, not expecting that question at all. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, putting away the dried dish. 

“It’s just,” She starts, pursing her lips and sighing. “I don’t know, you seem different? I guess? It’s like you’re you but the real you isn’t really… there. Saw it at graduation too. The sadness in your eyes…” She trails off, looking at you with a bit of unease. 

You didn’t think it’d be that noticeable, but things scarcely get past your mother. 

You were almost thirty years old. Surely she wouldn’t be pissed at you for sleeping with your former professor, now, would she? 

“I’ll tell you about it,” You say, eyes landing on a bottle of Pinot Grigio. “We might need this, though.” You snatch the bottle off the counter and grab two wine glasses, leading her out to the padded lounge chairs on the back patio. 

She pours two hefty glasses, because the look on your face tells her everything she needs to know: it’s going to be a hell of a story. 

And so you proceeded to tell her everything, aside from where you two had sex. She definitely didn’t need to know about you getting fucked by him in his office, bent over his desk as he—

“Wow. That’s… a lot.” She says, drinking in all of the information you threw her way. 

“You’re not upset with me?” You ask, hiding a wobbling bottom lip behind your glass of wine. The lump in your throat made it harder for you to swallow the smooth drink. 

“Honey, you’re a grown woman. You know what’s right from wrong, albeit I think you should’ve at least waited until after you graduated, as far as I’m concerned, it was two adults consenting to participate in adult activities.” She shrugs, and you sigh in relief. 

“I promise I wasn’t sleeping with him for my grades or anything. I was already one of his top students before it all began.” You huff a laugh, and your mom shakes her head. 

“That thought didn’t cross my mind once, sweetheart. It’s not you. It’s not your character,” She sips her wine with a meek hum, brows pinching together. “I don’t like what he did to you, though.” She shakes her head, looking at you. 

“I agreed to it, though. Part of it is my fault for not telling him how I felt. I knew what I felt for him and I hadn’t voiced it once to him, so he was unaware.” 

And you wondered now if things would’ve been different had you told him how you really felt. 

His words, seared into your brain at this point, always repeated themselves: ‘It’s not my fault I didn’t live up to the expectations of myself that you created in your head.’

Maybe you wouldn’t have made those expectations up if you just fucking told him. 

“He still shouldn’t have used you as a pawn to distract himself from his unresolved feelings about the thing with his ex.” She says, and you know she’s right. Adrienne said something similar to you not even three weeks ago. 

“Yeah.” Was all you could muster up, swirling your wine around your glass. 

“Do you think you have it in your heart to ever forgive him?” She asks, and your stomach twists into a knot. You’d never even thought about forgiving him. It was still too fresh of an open wound, one you were desperately trying to heal and close. 

“Maybe someday.” It was an honest answer. 

And that’s all you could really give her. 

-

The next day, your mom had graciously decided to take you out for a little distraction from life as you knew it. 

She took you for a drive down PCH in your dad’s beloved cherry red ‘65 Ford Mustang convertible, which is exactly what you needed. The sun was beaming brightly down on you both, the top down allowing the hot wind to wildly whip at your face. You leaned your crossed arms on top of the passenger door, laying your head down as you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment of serenity. 

You missed home so much. You didn’t even want to go back to Texas, but you’d know by the end of the week if you were coming back here permanently or not. You figured you’d need to construct a plan B just in case this job didn’t end up working out, but you’d figure that out soon. 

Right now, you just wanted to enjoy the summer sun and the time with your mom and the freeness you felt now that your mom knew everything. 

The day went by quickly much to your disadvantage. You were nervous for what tomorrow would bring, hoping to god that you were impressive enough for them to at least consider you to be a part of the forensics team. 

And you went into the huge facility the next day with a smile plastered on your face, showing you were genuinely happy to be there and how much you’d love the job. You hoped you weren’t being overeager. 

The head of the forensics team, Margot, seemed to take a liking to you. She asked how you knew Tess, and you told her you met at the criminal justice expo a couple of months back. 

It wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t want Joel to be a part of the conversation whatsoever, so you naturally skipped over the part that you met her through him. 

Margot gave you a run-down of how things worked in that particular department, showing you the ins and outs of the place. She showed you all of the equipment and how it worked; what different positions in the job entailed; and what she was expecting of you, were you to be hired. 

The prospect of you working on the forensics team for the LAPD had your stomach doing somersaults, and you had to constantly remind yourself that it wasn’t reality for you yet. You couldn’t get too ahead of yourself. 

You thanked Margot for her time as she promised she’d keep in touch and let you know about the position by the end of the week at latest. 

You got home that evening and Adrienne FaceTimed you right away. You felt like it went well, though you couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Margot was a sweet woman, but her mannerisms gave very little away. All you could do at this point was just hope for the best. 

That’s all you seemed you could really do right now in life, anyway. 

Just hope for the best. 

-

You got the job.

The call came in around ten in the morning on your way to the airport to fly back to Austin. You couldn’t believe it. 

It’s like everything in your life was slowly clicking back into place, one by one. 

You’d worked so hard in school, but you genuinely couldn’t have done this without Tess. You had to call and let her know. 

You scrolled through your contacts and clicked her name, and within three rings she answered. 

“Hello?”

”Hey, Tess. I have some great news.” Your voice is giddy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. 

“I think I might know what it is.” She teased, prompting you to tell her. 

“I got the job!” 

“I knew you would, sweetheart, congratulations. We should get a drink to celebrate. Make it a whole thing.” Her voice rings with sincerity, and you can’t seem to wipe the smile from your face. 

“Love to. I don’t start until late August, so I have a month and a half to pack and move.” 

“That’s great! If you need help, Misty and I wouldn’t mind lending a hand.” 

“Thanks Tess. And thank you so much for putting in a word for me. I wouldn’t have gotten this job without you.” 

“You did all of the hard work. I was just a referencer.” She laughs, and you can’t help but beam. 

“Hey I gotta go, my flight is being called to board. But I’ll see you real soon.” You say, and hear her chuckle on the other end of the line. 

“See you soon, sweetheart.” 

-

A month and a half passed by in the blink of an eye. You and Adrienne were leaving tomorrow to head for California with all your stuff in tow. 

It felt so surreal, leaving Texas behind to start something new for yourself—something you worked so hard for. Adrienne couldn’t have been more supportive of you starting anew, which is why she insisted you both invite your friends to a local bar as a last hoorah before you took off in the morning. 

You were all smiles tonight, taking a couple of shots with friends before settling on a Cosmo to babysit for awhile. 

You even invited Tess and Misty, wanting to say ‘see you later’ instead of ‘goodbye’, because you ultimately knew you’d be seeing them again. 

And, deep down, a part of you wishes you could physically say goodbye to Joel. Thank him for everything he’s taught you—inside and outside of the classroom—and put your past with him completely behind you. 

You didn’t want to go to California with any loose ends, because again, the whole purpose was to start fresh. 

You didn’t dwell on it too much. You were there to celebrate with your friends and have a good time… which you were, until the man that had been lingering in the back of your mind for two and a half months unexpectedly made an appearance. 

You were talking with Adrienne, Tess and Misty before all three of them went silent, eyes averting behind you. You looked at them with confusion before turning around, heart dropping to your stomach. 

Joel. 

“What’s he doing here?” Panic seized your body, not expecting to see him at all. The part of you that wanted to say goodbye was relieved to see him, and the other part of you—the part that craved him for so long, wishing everything was different—was mortified. 

“I actually invited him.” Adrienne said, sympathy in her eyes as you furrowed your brows. 

“What—?” 

“Just- just hear him out, okay?” She asks, and you place your watered-down Cosmo on the sticky bar top, giving her an unsure look before turning around to face him. He didn’t look much different, but his eyes were tired. 

A pang of hurt seized your chest, and you swallowed harshly before making your way to him. 

“Joel.” You sound breathless. Your eyes must’ve been wide and strewn with confusion. 

He offers a small, lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Hey. Can we talk?” He asks, voice sounding a bit unsure, a trait that’s very unlike Joel. 

You nod, and he jerks his head toward the bar door to walk outside. Your shoes scuff over the pavement, humid summer night air sticking tackily to your body. The sounds of Life in the Fast Lane by the Eagles fades into the background with all of the chatty patrons of the bar, leaving the distant call of the cicadas to become the forefront of noise in the night. 

“So,” You begin, not exactly sure what he wants to talk about. 

“Couple of things. First and foremost, I wanna apologize to you, darlin.’ For every single thing that’s happened. You were a student of mine and I shouldn’t have—” He swallows, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done anything with you then. ‘N I most certainly shouldn’t’ve offered that stupid fuckin’ friends with benefits bullshit to you.” His eyes are trained on his worn out boots, hands knotting behind his back. 

“Joel—”

“Darlin’, you deserved so much better. I want you to know that I was never ashamed to be with you. You’re gorgeous, your body is beautiful, you’re so brilliant. Everythin’ about you is a dream. I was selfish and I was terrified of gettin’ hurt again. I spent so long building up walls to protect myself ‘n my peace, and then you came into my life chippin’ away at it so easily. I didn’t know what to do, so I panicked. Kept pullin’ you in and pushin’ you away so I wouldn’t be the one that ended up hurt. But I hurt you in the end and I can’t tell you how fuckin’ sorry I am.” 

His dark gaze is locked on you then, and you feel the backs of your eyes burning, tears threatening to spill to the forefront. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? It’s not every day you get a heartfelt apology from a man who really did a fucking number on you. 

“What’s the second thing?” Your voice is meek, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s hesitant at first, but he sighs as he takes a small step toward you. 

“I really fuckin’ miss you.” His eyes were full of sadness, regret, anguish. All telltale to you that he was being completely sincere. 

You didn’t want to give in. You didn’t want it to be that easy, answering his beck and call. But it was Joel— the man who made you feel things nobody else has, the man who frustrated you and liberated you simultaneously, the man who fucking ruined every single man for you ever again. 

You were a strong woman. You knew that. He knew that. But Joel had chipped away at your walls, too. 

Eye for an eye. 

“I miss you too,” You whisper, tears on your waterline now. “But I don’t want to get hurt again.” 

“Sweetheart,” Joel coos, reaching out for you. It took you a second, but you willingly let yourself succumb to the warm, familiar embrace of the man that you so desperately, secretly longed for all this time. “I promise you I won’t hurt you again. Cross my heart ‘n hope to die.” Joel’s voice holds so much promise. 

Everything felt okay again. It felt right as you buried your face into his neck, clutching fistfuls of the soft material of his shirt. 

And then it hit you—

“Joel,” You gasp, sad tears streaming down your face endlessly, body wracked with broken sobs. “I’m moving to LA. I leave for California tomorrow.”

Joel’s face falters, tears in his eyes as he pulls you into him tighter, kissing your temple as you both stand in the parking lot, sobs joining the song of cicadas. 

What you’d lost once was in your grip again, only for it to slip through your fingers like sand—twelve hundred miles soon to be separating what could’ve been. 

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @punkshort ; @nostalxgic ; @tinygarbage ; @harriedandharassed ; @pamasaur ; @bastardmandennis ; @cool-iguana ; @untamedheart81

[rorywritesjunk]

A mini lil fic. PG. Mentions of animal illness and death. Crying people. Takes place about a year into Buggy and Sunny's marriage (this isn't spoilery since it was mentioned in the Kid Buggy fic 👀) Title comes from The Cave by Mumford and Sons.

And I'll find strength in pain And I will change my ways

To Buggy, Sunny can do no wrong. Ever. He thinks she's absolutely perfect. He's the type of husband who would do whatever he could for her to make sure she's always happy. He remembers her birthday, her favorite flower, the day they met. Everything.

He fucks up badly only once in their marriage and it was within the first year.

Sunny was crying over the loss of one of Mohji's animals, a bear. It was sick for a while and she convinced Buggy to see if they could find someone to treat the poor thing. When they finally anchored and they found a vet, it was too late. The poor thing was past treatment so the humane thing was to put the bear to sleep. Mohji was a wreck and Sunny was inconsolable.

Buggy was an idiot.

"It's just an animal, babe." He grumbled one night while getting ready for bed. "Mohji isn't even crying that much over it."

"B-But I feel so bad for him!" Sunny sniffed as she held a tissue to her face. "He-he loved that bear so much, Buggy! And he's dead! We couldn't help him!"

He rolled his eyes. The vet wasn't sure why the bear's health declined suddenly. Mohji took very good care of the animals, but sometimes things happened. Mohji and some of the men buried the animal out in the woods later that day but Buggy didn't want Sunny to tag along. He wanted her to get over it.

"Look, the animals aren't your concern, okay?" He sighed as he got into bed beside her. "Just suck it up and move on. Mohji already has."

Sunny lowered the tissue from her face as she turned to look at Buggy. "What did you just say?"

He paused for a moment, trying to recall what he just said.

"I... Said the animals aren't your concern?"

"Try again."

Oh shit. He heard the tone in Sunny's voice and knew he was in trouble. There has been one time before when he heard her speak like that and he knew he was in trouble.

"Sunny, b-babe, just... Don't concern yourself with Mohji's animals." He managed to get out, smiling wide at her, hoping she wouldn't get mad. She sat beside him in bed, arms crossed as she stared at him with an unreadable look on her face. "All I said was... Suck it up and move on... B-Because it's just one bear, babe. Not a big deal."

"So what you're saying is you don't want me to express emotions, Buggy?" Sunny asked coldly. "I should just keep it all inside or something?"

"Yes!"

Oh, no, that wasn't the right answer. He tried again.

"I mean... Show them but... Not all the time? Just... Just stop crying?"

Sunny stared at him before she laid down on the bed with her back to him. He reached out to touch her shoulder but she jerked away from him.

"Don't, Buggy." She snapped.

"B-Babe, come on!" He insisted. "I didn't mean, um-"

"Good night." She pulled the blankets close and closed her eyes. He didn't even get a good night kiss.

~

Sunny cooked him breakfast the next morning but left when he started eating. He thought maybe she'd be better by lunch time, but she repeated what she did at breakfast: fixed him a plate and left.

He tried talking to her but she ignored him as she went about her chores.

Fine, he could also be stubborn and ignore her.

Except that only lasted a few hours before he was on the ground in front of her while she patched a hole in a crewman's pants. Buggy was hugging her legs, trying to get her to notice him, but she ignored him as she worked.

"Babe, please don't ignore me!" He begged. "Please!"

One thing Buggy learned about his wife that week was she could stand her ground. She gave Buggy the cold shoulder for an entire week. Seven days. If he would have apologized she would have stopped but he didn't until the end of the week when he was at her feet again, resting his head in her lap while she worked. Mohji and some men were off the ship again, getting supplies, while Sunny worked.

"Please talk to me." Buggy whined pitifully. "What do I have to do?"

Sunny sighed and stopped what she was doing. "Apologize to me. That's all I want."

"A-Apologize?! For what?!" Buggy demanded. Sunny stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "You should apologize to me for ignoring me all week!"

"Really, Buggy?" Sunny said. "You tell me to stop crying, not to show emotions, but you want me to apologize to you, is that what you're saying?"

"Obviously! You've been ignoring me all week, Sunny! Why should I apologize?!"

"Because you hurt my feelings!" Sunny exclaimed. "Buggy, I was upset and instead of comforting me you told me to suck it up! I have never once said anything like that to you when you were down, so I'd expect you would comfort me when I need it!"

Buggy's eyes widened slowly. He felt like a terrible husband because Sunny was right. She was always there, hugging and reassuring him whenever he needed it, ever since they met, and she never asked for anything in return. The one time she wanted it he ignored her feelings and made it about him.

"I-I 'm sorry, Sunny! I am, please, I'm sorry, don't... Don't do this anymore." He pleaded as he buried his face in her lap. "I'm sorry. You... You can cry as much as you want. Don't leave me or anything."

Sunny took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and looked down at Buggy. "I am not leaving you over this. And I'm glad you apologized, Buggy."

He glanced up at her, eyes watery as he sniffed. "Really?"

"Yes." She said. "Now never say anything like that to me again, are we clear?"

He could only nod, tears in his eyes as he clung to her. Sunny could feel a headache coming on.

"I love you." He mumbled as he shut his eyes, clinging to her while she resumed her tasks.

"I love you too, Buggy." Sunny replied. "Now let me finish my work, okay?"

He just nodded, keeping close to her, fearful she might disappear before his eyes. Sunny reached down to pat him on the head gently before finishing her work. She was glad he apologized and hoped he would learn from this, but she would also be more vocal about her emotional needs as well around him, and if he ever told her to suck it up again then she would walk away.

end.

[ticklishfiend]

A Joint Effort (Good Omens)

(lee!crowley / ler!aziraphale)

Summary : in which aziraphale and crowley created tickling together many years ago (alt. and reminisce on it many years later)

a/n : lowkey this is very conversational abt tickling but i do (personally) love a fic that discusses the topic :D there is tickling tho dw LOL i just wanted to write some tickly dialogue

word count : 4065

hope u enjoy! pls consider giving a reblog if u liked it <33

. . .

A lot of things went through Crowley’s mind as he gazed at that all too familiar lake. Mainly all the times he and Aziraphale met here to discuss their “private affairs,” a secret team-up only one angel, one demon, and dozens of ducks could know about.

More recently it was all that dreary “end of the world” business he’d quite frankly prefer to Men In Black himself out of remembering (by the way, what a fantastic film that one was, the humans couldn’t have been both more far off and somehow right on the nose with it). The lake was lucky it was still so pretty after all these years, otherwise he’d have stopped visiting after everything resolved itself some time ago.

Humans had a phrase for what he tended to do alone on the bench. “People-watching,” they call it. Such a funny phrase considering it’s technically been his job since the creation of man itself. Maybe that’s why he enjoyed doing it so much. Technically, it’s kinda what he was made for.

He listened as a man adjacent to him across the lake was thinking and thinking his little head off. The man pondered over a woman, a lover Crowley presumed, and apparently how good their date had gone last night. Crowley noticed him fiddling with something in his pocket. Oh yes, a ring. What a disgustingly adorable tradition.

Crowley tapped his ring finger against the bench with an unknown impatience.

He saw that close by, a woman made her way towards the man (ah wait, it’s the woman, he could hear the man’s heart rate pick up and blood sloshing towards his cheeks, kinda gross how their bodies betray them), her hand finding his as she laid her head down on his shoulder. Crowley’s throat made a funny sound as he crossed his arms.

Crowley didn’t care much for the conversation, much more of an observer than a listener. Out of habit, he almost sent an evil little miracle their way, a “no” from the woman catching at his fingertips and becoming clenched in his fist. Actually…this might be the first successful proposal he’ll ever witness. He can hear the yes before she’s even said it, so much love radiating between them it's like radiation to his skin.

But he wants to see this play out. Just because he actually can now. Yeah…trying new things and all.

So it plays out just like the movies. He gets down on one knee, she cries, yadayadayada, blahblahblah. But this time, Crowley can actually feel it. This isn’t like seeing it through the screen. Those emotions become one with the air, making the whole park’s atmosphere thick and sugar-scented. It makes his skin crawl. Or he got goosebumps. He can't tell for sure, maybe it’s all one and the same.

He keeps watching the couple, telling himself he’s invested like one would stare at a car crash (even though nothing about this is a wreck at all, it’s a tad beautiful and Crowley knows this, but there’s still something so wretched about how his eyes stay glued to that spot across the lake).

They keep giggling and kissing, snapping a few photos of the moment and basking in each other. The man lifts the woman and twirls her around, her sun dress twirling with her and making the scene look so…ugh, romantic.

Or…just romantic. Maybe there’s no need to groan so hard at that.

Then the woman does something that snaps Crowley out of his little haze (call it jealousy and Crowley will treat your legs like snap peas). She pokes and squishes around her new fiancés sides, and said fiancé begins to giggle. The woman gave the man a tickle.

Tickling is far from a new concept to Crowley. Actually, he may have had a little hand in creating it. It wasn’t his idea exactly, he didn’t sign off on the paperwork or anything, but let’s just say laughter wasn’t the first possible noise option. He thought it’d be a bit more creative if there was less screaming in hell from time to time.

Most people would probably assume tickling came straight down from above, a place of innocence and love and, yeah, laughter. Others may even say it’s a hellish creation, but those tended to be the ones that drew the short end of the ticklish stick (that is to say, they’re probably really fucking ticklish).

But honestly, this one was kind of a joint effort. Is the paperwork technically written on a heavenly scroll? Sure, yeah. But who was the one that signed off on that scroll in the first place?

Well, Aziraphale did always have such an obnoxiously perfect signature.

Near the beginning, Crowley had overheard some demons discussing new torture methods for the humans to use on each other, something easy that required less machinery on their part. One brainstorm talked of the humans being able to do nothing but poke at their enemy to get them howling in pain.

And, well, Crowley thought that sounded laughably absurd.

So the next time he saw Aziraphale on Earth, he gossiped like usual. Talked of how stupid it sounded, how the humans would get so out of hand using it they’d never get anything productive done. And of course, Aziraphale agreed (though he was at first quite shocked a demon was against any brainstormed torture method, no matter how ridiculous).

Together they devised a little scheme. Nothing major, just something to beat the demons to the race. They had to though, right? It’d just be stupid to ruin something as precious as humanity over a few pokes.

So, instead of screaming in pain, the humans would scream in laughter. It wouldn’t hurt, unless the human was too rough of course, and really the worst it could do was embarrass the victim (except when Crowley snuck in that sometimes they may wet themselves, as a silly little gag. Aziraphale may have been too distracted trying to find a mysterious, strangely itchy dark feather in his garments when he wrote that one). It was such a silly invention, and Aziraphale even felt a little embarrassed bringing it to Gabriel, but oh how the other angels adored it. It was a new game for their humans to play, to occupy and fill the time of their short useless existences. It was a perfect time-waster.

And so became tickling. A joint project created by Crowley and Aziraphale, one of the first little schemes they pulled together that only dipped their toes into everything that came after. And now Crowley got to watch as his invention created a positive memory for some random romantics at his favorite park.

It was weird. He’s never felt funny about tickling before, but since he and Aziraphale have gotten rather…um, close recently, seeing this couple be all flirty and affectionate and tickly was making him feel funny feelings about it he’s never felt before.

He’s not blushing. That’s a human thing. He’s just…warm.

Crowley shakes his head, emptying his mind of all that weird mushy shite. He brings his eyes back to the couple, seeing them kiss and talk and bask in each other’s otherness. Part of him made that happen, in some cosmic butterfly effect sort of way.

Maybe everything is a circle, just as they say. Like it’s all meant to be. One particular word stings at his tongue, he’s heard it a thousand times before out of Aziraphale’s mouth when the subject of a great plan is brought up. He’ll just have to save it for when his angel comes back around.

…

—( alt : s2 ending never happened and crowley goes back to the bookshop afterward and everything is fine and dandy and happy :D )

…

The bell above the bookshop’s door rang a familiar chime when Crowley stepped through, announcing his presence to the one and only being it should matter to. He practically beelined for the drapes, figuring it far too bright for a cozy bookshop even with his sunglasses on.

Crowley heard behind him the soft angelic clunk of each foot making their way down the staircase, the room brightening on its own as Aziraphale made his way down.

“Well that wasn’t a very long outing,” Aziraphale rounded into the main area, cup of tea in hand. “Did something happen?”

Crowley dusted the drapes with his hands, “Such a worrywart, you are,” spinning around and brushing his hands as he met eyes with the one on his mind all afternoon. “The park just got boring, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, “Excuse me for noticing that you’re home earlier than usual,” he muttered, taking his next sip with attitude. “But since you’re back so soon, maybe we could…hang out, as the youth say,” he smiled that thin-lipped smile, and Crowley groaned in the back of his throat, following Aziraphale towards the back room (yknow, the one with the couch that Crowley can stretch his legs on as long as he needs and nothing ever feels uncomfortable).

“Grahk, angel, there’s a reason that only the youth should be saying these things. Sounds…unnatural, on your tongue,” Crowley plopped down on his favorite couch, his hand in Aziraphale’s (he’s not even sure when that happened, but who is he to complain?) leading him down to the spot next to his. Aziraphale did a wiggle as he sat, like getting the cushion ready for him.

“I like integrating new shortened language into my vocabulary,” Aziraphale pouted behind his cup.

“Helps me understand everyone better.”

Crowley tutted, “Okay, well, one: it’s not called “shortened language” anymore, you boob. They say slang now. If you don’t even know the word slang, you definitely shouldn’t be using it in the first place,” Crowley propped his feet up on Aziraphale’s lap, the only acknowledgment of his position being Aziraphale’s zero hesitation in using his shins as an armrest. “And two: you already have the most extensive vocabulary on the planet. You can know all the words and phrases you like, but I doubt you’re in dire need of any new ones to use.”

Aziraphale sat his glass down on the coffee table, leaning against Crowley’s legs. “I think you’re just jealous. Envy is one of the seven sins, correct?”

Crowley merely huffed, throwing an arm against the couch’s own and propping his cheek against his hand. He gazed a bit longingly at the angel, who seemed more interested in picking lint off his trousers at the moment. “Saw something at the park I thought you’d like.”

Aziraphale’s ears perked, but more or less remained focused on grooming Crowley’s pants. “Oh?”

“Want you to guess.”

That caught his attention, an annoyed glare thrown Crowley’s way. “I hate this game.”

“Naaaah you love it. Cmon, guess.”

“I’ll at least need a hint, Crowley. It could literally be an infinite number of things,” Aziraphale sat back against the couch now, finally interested in the conversation even if he continued with the annoyed charade, hands folded on Crowley’s shins. “At least tell me if it’s good or bad. You know how I hate bad surprises.”

“It’s good, trust me,” Crowley grinned. “Has to do with something we created a looong time ago. I’m talkin’ B.C, baby.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised, really curious now.

“We created it?”

“That we did, angel.”

Aziraphale hummed, fingers fidgeting with the fabric, before gasping in excitement, “Was it a chihuahua?”

Crowley’s own eyebrows shot up at that, nearly having forgotten they created that wretched animal.

“Oh but they’re so cute, Crowley, look at how tiny!”

“Fine, but that thing’s gonna be a beast, I don’t care how little it is.”

“Heheh, no but good guess,” He chuckled, sliding his glasses off and tucking them into his front pocket. His hands mimicked Aziraphale’s, fingers crossed but against his chest. “One more hint: I saw some very…giggly humans.”

It took him a moment, but finally Aziraphale grinned, giving Crowley’s knee a few squeezes and delighting in the squeak and kick against the other arm of the couch. He giggled as he watched Crowley turn pink and grumble. “That may be one of my favorite things we created together.”

Crowley shoved his glasses back on as if hiding, more embarrassed than he’d like to admit. “You’re ridiculous for miracling that shit into me all those years ago.”

“I only did it because you did the same to me!”

Crowley chuckled, regaining his confidence to reach over and squeeze at Aziraphale’s side, relishing in the angelic giggles.

“Well obviously. I’m a demon. Had to mess with my angel somehow.”

Aziraphale pushed his hand away, his smile remaining with pink cheeks. “Yes, but an angel is nothing without an even better miracle than yours. We both know you got the worst of it,” Aziraphale said, throwing wiggly fingers in Crowley’s direction when he tried to argue, “Don’t make me tickle your ribs and prove it, Crowley. We don’t want a repeat of—“

“Say it and I’ll pluck each feather off your back and go to town on those ears of yours.”

Aziraphale just grinned, retracting his fingers and letting his demon relax as he held his hands up in defeat. Aziraphale sort of has the high ground here anyway, considering their differing levels of sensitivities; he’ll just bring it up later.

“So you saw some people in a tickle fight, then?” Aziraphale tipped the conversation away from them, a little wary of the threat. “Quite a public spot for something we made to be so embarrassing, don’t you think?”

Crowley waved a hand, “Aaaaah they don’t all find it embarrassing. The guy seemed too happy to care, anyways,” he said, scrunching his nose. “He had just proposed.” Crowley said the word like there were worms crawling under his clothes.

Aziraphale gasped, “Oh how lovely! You should’ve congratulated them, Crowley!” He whined, knowing Crowley too well, sensing there was no way he had given them a proper congratulations. Aziraphale hated missing out on precious human moments like that.

Crowley smiled at his enthusiasm, “Don’t worry, angel. They’ve got each other for that sappy shite.”

Aziraphale huffed out a happy giggle, giving Crowley’s leg a little shake and pat. Crowley always found it gross how giddy the angel got over others happiness. It made his heart and belly feel funny, maybe he was going into cardiac arrest or something. Well, not literally of course, but maybe like metaphorically.

“So the newlyweds had a little tickle tussle in the park? Oh that’s just precious,” Aziraphale held his hands close to his chest. “Thank you for letting them have their moment, dear.”

“Whatever, just didn’t feel like working too hard today,” Crowley sniffed, leaning back against his arms. “Yknow, the guy seemed to be loaded with those tickly nerves. I don’t blame that girl one bit for going at ‘em. Kept making these funny noises and wigglin’ like a worm. It was honestly very amusing to watch.”

Aziraphale grinned all smug. “Weeelll…”

Crowley frowned. “Well…what?” Aziraphale just shrugged, giving Crowley a quick up and down. Crowley shot up, pointing a finger, “No. That is not how I am.”

“All I’m saying is, if you can’t blame her for tickling her husband because of his funny reactions…weeeelll…” Aziraphale giggled, throwing shaky arms up in defense when Crowley leaned forward.

“Keep at it,” Crowley warned, throwing his legs off Aziraphale so he could corner the tittering angel into the couch, “And I swear, I will have jars of ticklish angel tears to display on my shelf,” he poked Aziraphale in the chest, awfully close now. “I’ll make sure you discorporate with a smile.”

Aziraphale gulped on a giggle.“I-I was merely…Crowley, come on now, I’m teasing,” he stuttered out. Crowley was right up in his face now, a smile that may as well be fanged making Aziraphale’s voice quiver. Crowley was eating up the sight.

“Yeah? Well so am I,” Crowley grinned in his face, glasses falling to the tip of his nose so Aziraphale could see the endearment in his yellow eyes. Aziraphale sighed, bringing a hand to the demon's chest. Crowley leaned into the touch, humming contentedly as he started relaxing against Aziraphale’s form.

He curled up against the angel’s side, Aziraphale’s fingers playing at his cheek. Crowley pressed his face into Aziraphale’s shoulder, mumbling, “It’s not my fault you’re a literal God-gifted tickler.”

“Mm, well it isn’t my fault you’re ticklish enough to break my vessel’s nose—“

“Okay, fuuuck you, I thought we weren’t bringing that up, you twit,” Crowley flicked Aziraphale in the temple, “Also, it quite literally is your fault I’m this ticklish. Prick.”

Aziraphale kept a frown after having his face assaulted like that, “I feel like you’re just asking for it now. Insulting and flicking me as we talk about how horribly ticklish you are. Yes, quite a wise decision on your part, Anthony.”

Crowley pressed his face further into Aziraphale, mumbling something incoherent that probably made no sense anyways. Something like, “your mum’s horribly ticklish…” but who's to say. Aziraphale caught on with a giggle.

“Oh is that it?” Aziraphale asked, squeezing Crowley’s shoulder.

“Is what it?”

“Do you want me to-“

“No. Fuck you.”

“Are you sure? Because it sure seems like-“

“Noooo.”

Aziraphale held back a laugh, trying not to embarrass Crowley so much he fled from the scene. Instead, he just slid a hand up Crowley’s side, decidedly not tickling. Crowley tensed under him, his hand squeezing tighter on Aziraphale’s lapels, but made no move to leave.

“I used a word before,” Aziraphale tapped one finger against the clothed side, not ticklish but definitely threatening. “Envy. Is that what you’re experiencing, Crowley?”

Crowley tried to grumble, but it sounded more like a whine with his face smushed into Aziraphale’s coat.“Wha’ would I even be…envious of,” Crowley muttered. “S’all stupid. Not the proposal, that’s for damn certain.”

“Oh no, surely not the proposal,” Aziraphale used his one finger to scritch gently. Crowley tittered in his throat. “I wonder what else I could be talking about, hm?”

Crowley was vibrating. He could feel how warm his face had gotten against the coat, hating himself for it but refusing to leave. This was…this was something. “Beats me,” he shrugged, but quickly brought his arms back down when he felt Aziraphale’s hand trail up even further, fuck. He growled, “Sssstop.”

“Stop what?” Aziraphale pinched once, and Crowley growled. “If there’s something on your mind, I’d love to hear it.”

“Hhmmhhmmhehehmm,” Crowley hummed a whine, squirming in Aziraphale’s hold. Part of him desperately wanted to sprawl out onto his partner's lap and let the angel have his ticklish way with him. The other part of him was screaming to push Aziraphale away, tell him off for being so silly and stupid. He didn’t actually think Aziraphale was stupid in the slightest, but fuck he couldn’t really think of anything worthwhile to say with Aziraphale’s fingers doing that to his lower ribs.

He didn’t do either of those things, though. Instead, he stayed curled into Aziraphale’s side with fingers also curled right on that spot that made Crowley feel all…all squirmy.

“Crooowleyy~,” Aziraphale sang into his ear, smiling against the shell of it as Crowley jerked and snickered in giggly fluster.

“What do you waaaant??”

“Did that couple make you think some…” Aziraphale pinched a quick line from Crowley’s ribs down to his hips. Crowley choked out a surprised giggle, body arching with a flinch. “…ticklish thoughts?”

“You’re such a dihick,” Crowley slapped Aziraphale’s hand, barking a laugh when he just squeezed his hip in response.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“…mmmmm no.”

“Crowley. You’re pushing into my fingers.”

“Shhhut up!”

“Admit it and I’ll get this over with,” Aziraphale said, abandoning his fear of embarrassing Crowley too much as it seems he was actually enjoying that part of it now. Who knew demons were so fond of being a little flustered?

Well, probably not most demons. But, come to think of it, when has Crowley ever been like “most demons”?

“I can’t, angel,” he whined, words a bit breathy as Aziraphale has switched to gently, slowly clawing at the clothed skin. It wasn’t enough to make him laugh, but damn if it still didn’t tickle like hell. If anything, this was probably worse. He can’t use the excuse of, “well I can’t talk when you’re tickling me!” because really, Aziraphale wasn’t. Not yet at least. Now they both knew he just can’t talk because he’s too flustered, and isn’t that a horrifying thought in itself.

“I never realized you actually liked it,” Aziraphale said genuinely, but his tone really made it sound like a tease.

Crowley shook his head, “I d—“ he bit down on his rebuttal with a growl, the word ‘don't’ falling down his throat. By now, they both knew that wasn’t true. No sense in fighting it, he guessed. “I didn’t know.”

Aziraphale made a surprised sound. “Really?” He gave a scribble to Crowley’s side, longer than the usual ones, and Crowley whined through a giggle.

“Uuugh maybe. Just when…whehen the couple—when they wehehere—Angehel I can’t speheheak when you’re—!” Crowley squeaked when Aziraphale started pinching up and down, giving focus to that little spot below his ribs. He couldn’t keep his giggles down, falling into breathless, flustered laughter as Aziraphale actually, finally started to tickle him.

“Too ticklish for words, Crowley?” Aziraphale teased on purpose this time, bringing his hand up, up, up to tickle a single finger in the hollow under Crowley’s arm. Crowley spasmed, choking out high pitched giggles as he squirmed and tried hiding his face even more into Aziraphale.

Aziraphale merely brought his other hand in to play with his exposed ear, bringing Crowley’s smiling face out as he jerked his head around to defend.

“Nohoho! This can’t be fffffuhucking fahahair-!” Crowley agonized, his laughter all over the place in pitch.

“I suppose not, considering I have quite the advantage here. More ticklish and enjoyable for you? What a pickle, my dear,” Aziraphale said, giggling as he heard the words come out of his mouth. “Aha! A tickly pickle! Isn’t that funny, Crowley?”

Crowley cackled as he shook his head around madly. Words weren’t easy when Aziraphale’s hand moved from his ear to his previously untouched side, pinching and squishing at the devastatingly sensitive hip bone.

“Refute it all you want, but with how hard you’re laughing you must think I’m very funny,” Aziraphale said, digging both hands into Crowley’s hips while dodging a headbutt to the nose.

Crowley’s mind felt like tangled wire. The tickling, the teasing, the knowing that he’s enjoying every second of it (and tickling and teasing him for exactly that). He’s been tickled before, been tickled by Aziraphale a few times in the past, but this was…it’s different.

They’re closer now, closer than they’ve ever been before. They know each other so intrinsically and still manage to learn new things about each other every day. Today’s discovery just happens to be Crowley’s apparent love for being tickled silly by his favorite angel, and he’s having trouble coping with the embarrassment of that when Aziraphale’s hands won’t leave his fucking hips alone.

“Yohohou-! AHA—! You’re diabohoholical! Ffffuhuhucking wanker!” Crowley insulted through hysterical giggling, squirming and kicking as his hips were tickled to the nub.

“Oh? Does someone want me to go back up to the ribs?~” Aziraphale’s hands finally left his hips, but slowly scribbled their way back towards his awful rib cage. Crowley thrashed with a cackle, it doesn’t even tickle that much on his sides but even the thought of those fingers back on his ribs has his stomach feeling ticklish on the inside.

“You dohohon’t—! Dohon’t have tohoho—ahAHAha nohohoho-!” Once those fingers found his ribs on both sides, Crowley gave up all the fight he had in him. He melted into Aziraphale’s side, merely squirming and twitching as he let his ribs be plucked by angelic hands. It was a torturous bliss he never expected himself to be found in.

“A ticklish demon,” Aziraphale cooed, leaning down to press his nose into Crowley’s hair. When Aziraphale talked now, it felt like the words went straight to Crowley’s brain, vibrating through the skull and making his neck scrunch. Crowley wanted nothing more than to let his angel play with him, and Aziraphale loved doing just that. “My proudest creation.”

. . .

a/n : hope u enjoyeddd it was very fun to write lol. pls consider liking and reblogging!! happy holidays <33

[heartsoji]

BOKUTO X READER

tw: death of a dog // angst-ish w/ comfort

"cheer up!"

"you're so strong for not crying! keep it up!"

"it's ok! they're in a better place. you should just be happy for them!"

"just don't think about it!"

those phrases, with some type of wording variation, were words you had heard a little too frequently lately.

3 days ago, your beloved dog had ascended to the clouds, and you had been a wreck internally since.

various people had said some sort of alteration of the above four phrases at least a few dozen times. and while you knew that they were simply trying to offer their comfort without malicious intent, their comments would either aggravate you or further add to your desolation.

you understood that it was scary. it would be scary seeing someone who you'd built up in your mind to be a sweet, bubbly, cheerful person breaking down and breaking character. it would be scary seeing them cease to be the person you once knew and loved. you wouldn't know who they were anymore and you were now desperately trying to keep them in character to preserve the bubbly image of the person in your mind.

you knew that you had to move on. you were a mess inside and you could feel your sadness continue to grow exponentially each and everyday.

however, no one would ever know you were such an internal wreck just by looking at you. you were trying so hard and doing a very good job at keeping up a good front. smile at your peers and teachers. keep your appearance tidy. go out with friends after school.

you, too, were trying to preserve the bubbly image of yourself in your mind.

"good morning, sensei!"

"good morning, l/n."

"yui-chan! good morning!"

"y/n-chan! morning! energetic as usual!"

"ah, bokuto-san! morning!"

"morning! how are you?"

you paused for a tiny fraction of a second. you felt your features trying to twist into a pained expression. you wanted to say, "not well, actually. i've been a wreck since, as the whole school knows for whatever reason, my dog passed recently." you wanted to cry. you wanted to go home. you wanted to scream. you wanted for your best friend to come back.

but you refused to let any of your thoughts show. pushing past it with a perhaps overly wide and possibly fake-looking smile, you replied, "great! i got a lot of sleep last night. how about you?"

bokuto, too, paused for a second. but not because he had to think about how he was doing, but because he saw the perhaps millisecond of hesitation. because he saw the slight crack in your cheerful facade. because he saw the way you tried to cover it up with an extra burst of cheer. because he saw it. because he saw you.

he chose not to comment on it, but made a mental note of it. "really good! i studied real hard last night, and i'm sure im gonna pass the math test today!"

"that's great!" you replied. "good luck!" and with that, you moved on with your day.

later, when you went outside, you realized that it was raining, and that you'd have to walk home in the pouring rain. you really didn't feel like getting wet today, so you chose to wait it out. the forecast said that it would take a mere 45 minutes, anyways.

two hours later, and you were still scrolling on your phone, waiting for the heavy rain to pass.

you sighed and set down your phone, bored. you had heard before that rain symbolized rebirth. perhaps right now, your beloved pup was getting reborn into a different body. you wondered if they were getting treated well in a nice home. if they had a warm bed and healthy meals. if they were doing well without you.

suddenly, you felt the drip-drip-dripping of not the rain from the sky on your legs, but the rain from your eyes instead. you had been so bottled up lately, and you could suddenly feel the cap pop off and all the emotion rushing out. you had been trying so hard to make it seem like everything was ok, when it reality, it wasn't. your best friend suddenly wasn't here anymore, and you felt more alone than ever. you had spent so much time and effort trying to be happy, but it wasn't working in the slightest, and you felt awful and incompetent for it. sobs wracked your body as you cried and grieved for your lost best friend. however, even in these moments, where you were obviously breaking down and having a much-needed cry, you were thinking to yourself, "why are you crying? keep up a smile! this is no time to be wallowing in pity. smile. smile. smile."

suddenly, you felt a gentle hand on your back. you turned around to see bokuto, setting his stuff down and coming to sit next to you.

"b-bokuto-san? oh my gosh, i'm so sorry. uhm, i actually, uh, stubbed my toe and it really hurt, so that's why i'm crying. gosh, i probably look like such a mess." you blabbered lamely.

"you know," he started, "if there's something bothering you, you can feel free to let me know. i'm a pretty good listener!"

you wiped your face quickly. "oh, don't worry. seriously, there's nothing wrong."

bokuto paused for a moment. "sorry if this is invading your privacy, but, well, i heard your dog died recently."

you're not quite sure why that was what set you off, but it did. like an old dam breaking down, a flood was released from your eyes as you let out loud, somewhat embarrassing sobs.

bokuto calmly rubbed your back with his large hand. "wanna talk about it?" he asked in a sort of soothing tone.

you weren't usually the type to complain or dramatize your situation in fear of burdening others with your problems. you had developed the habit of bottling up in order to not do so, and you thought that you'd been doing a good job at suppressing your emotions and pretending like everything's fine when it isn't. however, something about bokuto, whether it be the way he asked, his voice, the situation, whatever, tore down the walls you had built over the years. suddenly, you found yourself venting and bawling like a baby to a classmate you had never had a real conversation with. it was a bit embarrassing, humiliatingly vulnerable, but apparently much needed.

"and, well," you said in between your sobs, "everyone's been telling me to just be happy! and to not think about it! but sometimes, i don't know, i just really, really, really, want to cry and scream like a baby. i'm so tired of being the cheerful yet mature, infallible, reliable, therapist character! i just sometimes wish that i could lean on somebody, even if only for a few moments, even though that's also my worst nightmare. i hate that i don't even understand what im feeling! i hate it! i hate it!" you cried into him.

bokuto let you cry silently for a minute before starting with, "sometimes, i get into moods when im playing volleyball where i'm grumpy, annoyed, and frankly, useless." he chuckled a little before continuing, "my teammates call it 'bokuto's emo mode.'" his facial expression saddens a bit before saying, "they always tell me to snap out of it and to cheer up, but i don't think that they understand that sometimes, i just want to be sad."

you felt your heart pang a little. honestly, you couldn’t believe that a guy whom you’d never exchanged more than a brief set of hellos with seemed to understand your feelings better than your lifelong friends. “i just want to be sad,” huh? that indeed did feel accurate. you wanted to cry and sob for nights without end, but had never allowed yourself to before. it felt too vulnerable and dramatic to cry and feel sad about it.

you thought for a moment. “yeah,” you replied simply, not because you didn’t know what to say, or you didn’t agree, but actually, because you agreed entirely. bottling things up had always made things worse, whereas crying to bokuto felt therapeutic and relaxing. “honestly, this whole talk thing’s making me feel a lot better.

“im glad.” bokuto smiled warmly. “ill always be here if you ever need to talk again.”

and he kept that promise to be there, but not just for talking. he continued to be there for your highest and lowest moments, for your anger and resentment, for your sadness and angst, for your fear and disgust, for your bliss and joy.

he’d be there for your ongoing battle with depression, for your growth in talking about your problems instead of bottling it up, and for your 3am cravings.

he’d also be there for the first time you’d accepted a confession, which, coincidentally, happened to be from a guy named bokuto.

[teddymoon06]

Chapter 9

Title: At the Edge of the Abyss

Chapter 9: Unbreakable Bonds

Y/N’s POV

The atmosphere in Green Home was thick with dread. After Jae-heon’s announcement about the soldiers and our decision to hide Hyun-su, everyone was on edge. The plan was risky, but it was our only option. No one knew exactly when the soldiers would arrive, but it felt like the clock was ticking.

Hyun-su had been quiet since the meeting. He wasn’t the type to show his emotions openly, but I could see the fear and doubt lingering behind his eyes. He was carrying the weight of everything—his own transformation, the survival of everyone in the building, and now, the looming threat of the soldiers.

I wasn’t going to let him face this alone.

As the night fell, I found him on the rooftop, leaning against the railing and staring out at the wrecked city below. His shoulders were tense, his hands clenched into fists as if he was trying to hold onto the last bits of his humanity.

“Hyun-su,” I said softly as I approached, careful not to startle him.

He glanced at me, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t sleep?”

I shook my head. “Not with everything going on.”

He nodded, his gaze drifting back to the horizon. “Me neither.”

I stepped closer, standing next to him and looking out at the devastation. The city, once so full of life, was now just a crumbling reminder of the world we’d lost. But up here, on this rooftop, it almost felt peaceful—like the chaos was far away, even though I knew it was creeping closer with every second.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, my voice quiet but full of concern.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I feel like… like I’m losing control. Every time I close my eyes, I see that creature we locked up in the basement. And I wonder… how much time do I have left before I turn into something like that?”

My heart ached hearing the pain in his voice. I wished I could take that fear away from him, make him see that he wasn’t alone in this. But I knew how hard it was for him. Hyun-su had been fighting against his own body for so long, and the pressure was only getting worse.

“You’re not going to turn into that,” I said firmly, reaching out to place my hand over his. “You’re stronger than that, Hyun-su. You’ve been fighting this thing from the start, and you’re still you. That’s not going to change.”

He looked down at our hands, his thumb brushing gently over mine. “What if I can’t control it anymore? What if… what if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” I said, my voice steady. “I know you won’t.”

He was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low and filled with uncertainty. “I don’t deserve your trust, Y/N. I’m dangerous. I’m a monster.”

“No, you’re not,” I said, my grip on his hand tightening. “You’re not a monster. You’re the person who saved us—who saved me. You’re the reason we’re still alive.”

He turned to face me then, his eyes filled with so much emotion that it made my heart clench. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he whispered.

I smiled, leaning in just a little closer, my voice soft. “I do. Because you mean everything to me, Hyun-su.”

The tension between us seemed to shift, turning into something deeper, something more intimate. For a brief moment, the chaos of the world around us faded into the background, and all I could think about was the boy standing in front of me—the one who had risked everything for me, for us.

Slowly, cautiously, I reached up and cupped his cheek, my thumb brushing against his skin. He leaned into my touch, his eyes closing for just a second, as if he was trying to hold onto this moment, to ground himself in the warmth of my hand.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a vulnerability there that I hadn’t seen before. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“You won’t ever have to find out,” I replied, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cha Hyun-su’s POV

Y/N’s words hit me harder than I expected. I had been so used to being alone, to carrying the weight of everything by myself. But she wasn’t going to let me do that anymore. She was here, standing by my side, no matter how dangerous or uncertain things were.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t fighting this battle alone.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. I had never been good at expressing how I felt, especially in moments like this. But Y/N was different. She had a way of seeing through the walls I put up, of understanding me even when I couldn’t find the words.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I whispered, the fear I had been trying to push down finally bubbling to the surface. “I don’t want you to see me… like that.”

“You won’t lose me,” she said, her voice strong, filled with that quiet confidence that always made me feel like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. “No matter what happens, I’m staying with you.”

I didn’t deserve her. I didn’t deserve any of this—the trust, the hope, the love that she was offering me. But I wanted to. I wanted to be someone she could rely on, someone who was worthy of her faith.

“Y/N,” I started, but before I could finish, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind us, breaking the moment.

We both turned to see Jae-heon standing at the entrance to the rooftop, his expression grim.

“They’re here,” he said, his voice laced with urgency. “The soldiers. They’ve arrived.”

Y/N’s POV

A cold wave of fear washed over me at Jae-heon’s words. The soldiers. They were here already. We weren’t ready. We hadn’t even had a chance to figure out where to hide Hyun-su, how to protect him from being discovered.

Hyun-su’s hand tightened around mine as we exchanged a quick glance. His eyes were filled with determination, but I could also see the fear lurking beneath the surface. He was trying to stay calm, but I knew he was terrified of what might happen if the soldiers found out what he was.

“We need to move,” Jae-heon said, his voice low but urgent. “They’re searching the building, room by room. We don’t have much time.”

My heart raced as I looked around the rooftop, searching for any possible hiding spots. But there was nothing. We were completely exposed up here.

“What do we do?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly despite my efforts to stay calm.

Jae-heon frowned, thinking quickly. “There’s a storage room on the lower floors—somewhere out of the way. It might buy us some time. But we need to go now.”

Hyun-su nodded, his jaw clenched. “Lead the way.”

We hurried down the stairwell, our footsteps echoing in the dark, narrow space. My mind was racing, trying to figure out how we were going to get through this. The soldiers were trained to find infected—they wouldn’t just pass Hyun-su by. But we couldn’t give up. We had to find a way to protect him.

As we reached the lower floors, Jae-heon gestured toward a small door at the end of the hallway. “In there,” he said, his voice hushed. “It’s not much, but it’s the best we’ve got right now.”

Hyun-su stepped forward, his eyes scanning the area. “Y/N, you stay here with the others. I’ll hide inside.”

“No,” I said immediately, shaking my head. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m not,” I repeated, cutting him off. “I’m staying with you.”

He stared at me for a moment, his expression conflicted. But he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly in defeat.

Cha Hyun-su’s POV

There was no point in trying to change Y/N’s mind. She had made it clear that she wasn’t going to leave me, no matter how dangerous things got. A part of me was relieved—having her by my side made everything feel just a little less overwhelming. But another part of me was terrified. What if something happened to her because of me?

We slipped inside the storage room, the dim light barely illuminating the small, cramped space. There were old shelves lined with broken equipment, dusty boxes piled up in the corners. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

Y/N and I crouched behind a stack of boxes, our breathing shallow as we listened for any signs of movement outside.

Minutes passed. Then more. The silence was suffocating.

But then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway.

My heart pounded

in my chest as I held my breath, praying that the soldiers wouldn’t come this way. Y/N’s hand found mine in the dark, and I squeezed it tightly, drawing strength from her presence.

The footsteps grew louder, closer. My body tensed, every muscle coiled, ready to react if I had to. If they found us…

The door creaked open.

I froze, my blood turning to ice as the beam of a flashlight swept across the room.

They were here.

I could feel Y/N trembling next to me, but she didn’t make a sound. We both stayed perfectly still, hidden behind the boxes, hoping that the soldiers wouldn’t check too thoroughly.

The light passed over us once, then twice. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable.

But then, the light disappeared, and the footsteps retreated.

The door closed.

I exhaled slowly, the tension draining from my body as the danger passed. We weren’t safe yet, but at least for now, we had avoided detection.

Y/N leaned against me, her forehead resting against my shoulder as she let out a shaky breath. “That was too close,” she whispered.

I nodded, my heart still racing. “Yeah.”

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. We just sat there, our hands still entwined, the adrenaline slowly fading.

“We’ll get through this,” Y/N said quietly, her voice filled with a quiet determination. “We’ll find a way.”

I glanced down at her, my heart swelling with gratitude and something else—something deeper that I hadn’t let myself acknowledge until now.

“I know we will,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

End of Chapter 9

Next | Previous

[folklorianhaze]

Should I be extra bad and let you guys have a preview of my modern day elucien multichapter??? 😈

...

okay I need no convincing imma do it

(For context, Elain and Lucien have just had a messy almost-hookup after Elain, still grieving her breakup with Graysen from several months ago, got drunk at Feyre and Rhys’ wedding. This scene is the morning after, and the whole fic will be told with chapters that alternate between past and present, filling out the gaps in Elain and Lucien’s friendship to eventual developing feelings for each other, as we piece together how they got to this point and how they’ll move forward!)

OCTOBER

Listen. We should probably talk about last night.

Elain Archeron squinted through bleary, swollen eyes at the too-bright screen of her phone, staring directly at but somehow failing to comprehend the words occupying the little blue text bubble. Trying her level best to ignore the name attached to the top of the thread, reminding her against her will of the sender.

And then, beneath the first message, a follow-up that somehow felt even more humiliating than its predecessor:

I know you’re going through a lot right now — I don’t want to pressure you at all. But I don’t like the way we left things.

Somewhere beneath the dull pressure steadily building in her head, she managed to muster up enough shame that her face burned. The tone of the messages alone said enough about her behavior last night that she wanted nothing more than to chuck her phone out of her fifth-story apartment window (and then maybe back her car up over the wreckage just to be sure.) 

As polite and careful as his words were, it was all too obvious — he was worried about her. Did he pity her, perhaps, for the emotional wreck she’d been lately? She wasn’t sure which option made her feel worse.

Although Elain supposed she couldn’t entirely blame him for showing concern. Last night, she’d . . . she shook her head and grimaced, as if she could clear her mind of the foggy memories that still lingered. And each snippet she recalled proved all the more embarrassing. To say she hadn’t been herself would have been the understatement of the century. She hardly ever drank, let alone to that extent. She wasn’t entirely sure what had possessed her to behave in such a way — and in public! At her sister’s wedding!

Just perfect, Elain, she thought, the oily, queasy feeling returning to the pit of her stomach with a vengeance. I’m sure Feyre appreciated your hysterics so much on the happiest night of her life.

She’d be sure to call her sister later and apologize. Profusely. She couldn’t remember exactly if she’d made a huge scene in her drunken stupor, but she supposed it didn’t hurt to cover all her bases. But her damage control would have to wait for later, when the headache inevitably receded and she had to face the consequences of her actions in the harsh light of day. It was just as well — Feyre and Rhys were undoubtedly still traveling to their luxurious tropical honeymoon destination, and wouldn’t take kindly to any interruptions.

Not that she was entirely sure if she wanted to interrupt them later, either.

Elain let out a slow exhale, shifting in her soft bedsheets. She’d gotten accustomed to being in her apartment by herself lately, though lying in this bed alone still felt strangest of all. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she still found herself expecting to find Graysen’s sleeping form there, even though it had been months since they’d split. Months ago, and yet . . . here she was, acting like a reckless teenager. Acting messy. Her eyes began to sting, and she swallowed past a sudden tightness in her throat.

As she burrowed her face farther into the pillows, a thought occurred to her. How had she gotten home last night? Obviously, she’d been too drunk to drive herself, and she didn’t remember getting into Nesta’s car. Yet she’d woken up in her own bed, and vaguely remembered stumbling through the darkness of her bedroom and shucking off the dress she’d worn to Feyre’s wedding before plopping down onto the mattress. 

The briefest flash of a memory — the sleek leather interior of a car, the blur of the highway through the passenger window, warm strains of Billie Holliday floating from the radio — an all-too-familiar woodsy, earthy scent that had made her feel so at home, nearly lulled her to sleep — a golden-brown hand reaching across to hold hers, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles —

— and a voice that twisted something in her chest, that made her ache to remember it: It’s okay, you’re okay, Elain. It’s going to be alright.

[shesarainbow]

Max Cady x Reader | He's a fire eater, he's a cult leader

Part I

TW: abusive relationship, emotional abuse, gaslighting, Max at his worst, blathering about his twisted religious beliefs

You and Max are at the gas station. It’s early afternoon, and Max decides to stop to refuel. You get out of the car to stretch your legs. You look around in apathy and spot a lonely phone booth in the corner. You reach it and stare at the phone, hesitant.

Things have gone so fast since you ran off with Max. You had a good time with him, but the last few weeks have been difficult, and that initial sense of joy you felt in the first few days has suddenly vanished. Now you just feel numb and you don’t even know why.

You and Max are always on the road, never stopping and always driving. You feel homesick, you wonder how your parents are doing and if they’re still thinking about you. A part of you longs to return home, but your heart only beats faster when Max is nearby. You don’t want to leave him, you don’t want to return home and be trapped in that awful situation. Max has become your drug: your body needs him, your mind literally hangs on his lips, even though you know very well he’s a destructive force, a hurricane, and yet…

You sigh deeply and pick up the phone. Your hands are shaking, but you dial your home phone number anyway. You don’t have to wait long, your father’s voice on the other end sounds so distant that you can’t speak. You don’t know what to say and immediately regret calling him. You start whimpering, and suddenly Max is next to you, hanging up the phone on your behalf.

“You don’t need ‘em.” he says as he wraps you in a protective hug and lightly smoothes your hair. You can’t help but keep sobbing uncontrollably.

“I know you’re homesick, but I’m your home now. Remember when you told me you weren’t happy back home? Your folks wouldn’t understand our special connection… You're a lost soul, and I’m the best thing that ever happened to you. I bring meaning to your life.”

You sniff as he kisses your forehead in order to calm you down.

“Stop crying, sweetheart! Daddy doesn’t want to see you like this, y’know that… Daddy's here for you, babe. I’m here to save you.”

You look up at him. He’s so sweet, yet you find him repulsive in a way. He's always been good with words. It’s like he’s inside your mind, controlling it every time. His charisma mesmerizes you, and he uses your body whenever he likes.

His fingers stroke your pretty face; he softly smiles and coos gentle words into your ears.

He wants to save you. Save you from what exactly? You still don’t know. He keeps blathering about sin and temptation, redemption and rebirth, quoting Bible verses and psalms at every opportunity. You find him annoying, but you lack the courage to disagree with him. You know perfectly well how very important religion is to him. And yet there are times when you just want to scream, yell at him, punch him in the face, but you remain still and silent, dying inside day by day.

Except for yesterday evening, when you had, as he calls them, one of your tantrums.

Max was teasing you as usual, and you, surprisingly, stood up and yelled at him. “I’m not your fucking daughter, Max! You can’t tell me what to do!” you hit him in the chest several times until he held your wrists to stop you. “You're a hypocrite!” you screamed before collapsing in his arms, utterly wrecked.

Max was taken aback, but he didn’t lose his temper. On second thought, you would have preferred he had. He gently chastised you, pretending to be sorry. “I’m hurt, honey. But I know this isn’t the real you, the true you. I forgive you.”

And last night, things eventually got out of hand. You were overwhelmed by his superhuman strength and unable to rebel against him.

Suddenly a sense of nausea pervades you, and you throw up your lunch right in front of him. You feel so ashamed, but Max is holding you even though you try to refuse his help. He hands you his bottle of water and you take a little sip.

Max talks to you softly, but you can't hear him. You are so pale and dizzy, muttering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Sssh, don’t worry, honey. Lemme take care of ya’.” he says as he helps you get in the car, headed for a motel.

The next thing you recall is the softness of the bed as Max helps you lay down. “Ya’ need to rest. I’m gonna prepare you a bath, alright?”

You keep your eyes closed; your head is still spinning. A few minutes later, you feel Max undress you, lift you up, and carry you in his strong arms before dunking you in the bathtub. The water is lukewarm, and he starts gently rubbing your back with a sponge.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks, gently touching the bruise on your arm. You shake your head no.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you last night. Y’know Daddy’s one hell of an animal and I must admit it: I got too rough on ya’. But you must understand that I was disappointed… It was for your own good, y’know that, right? Daddy’s needed to tame you in order to teach you a lesson. A valuable lesson. But I’ve already forgiven you, hun. That’s all that matters.”

You reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers with his.

He keeps rubbing your legs and your chest, then he strokes your cheek. “You feelin’ any better?”

You open your eyes and nod.

“I know it’s been a big few weeks, but you’re doing so great! Don’t give up just now. Your folks rejected you and I took you in when you had no one. Remember what I told ya’ before?”

You look at him, clueless.

“There’s no judging here. Just a search for truth. Have I ever judged you?”

“No...” you whisper.

“Have I ever been angry at you?”

“No, Max...”

“Have I ever forced you into anything?”

“No.”

“No, exactly. Your folks instead—they judged you, they got plenty angry at you, didn't they? They didn't care about your happiness. I do. But y'know, every man carries a circle of hell around his head like a halo. Every man has to go through hell to reach his paradise. And I’m here for you, I’m your anchor, your Beacon of Light guiding you through darkness. Do you believe in me? ‘Cause I believe in you. Remember what I told you last night?”

“That I was—I was like the lost sheep returning to the fold.”

He smiles at you kindly. “Now, let’s get you dried off and dressed. You must be starving, sweetie.”

You and Max are at the diner. You were so hungry that you ate up your whole meal. You are feeling better now and your face is no longer pale.

“Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asks, looking directly at Max and staring at his tattoos.

“No, we’re good, doll.” Max answers with barely a glance at her, too busy reading his Bible and smoking his cigar.

“Max, I need to—” you say as you get up to use the bathroom. Max simply nods but actually raises his eyes and watches you as you walk away.

When you pass by the counter, the waitress starts chatting with you. “Your father—he’s so cool with all those tattoos…”

“He’s not my father…” you mumble, annoyed.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“Uhm, he is... I mean, I'm his...”

“Ah, sorry, just—just one sec.” the waitress rolls her eyes and walks into the kitchen.

...his little girl, you answer in your mind. You sigh deeply and reach the bathroom. You look in the mirror and start worrying. You feel bad about before, for thinking all those horrible things about Max and treating him so badly last night. He's been so sweet and nice to you this afternoon.

Again, you feel that sense of nausea. Something’s wrong, you know that. And you can’t help but feel ashamed and guilty. All your doubts and insecurities surface once more. What are you even doing with someone like Max? Why do you keep staying with him? He could be your father, even the waitress thinks so, too. You could leave him and return home, but you know you prefer to remain by his side. And then it hits you: you’ve nowhere to go. You’ve no one but Max.

When you come out of the bathroom, you can’t believe your eyes: the waitress is flirting with Max. He’s smiling, but you know it’s a phony smile. You know how he despises that kind of girls, which he calls them ''sluts'' or ''whores''. You keep staring at them; the waitress is literally wrapped around his little finger, and Max pretends to care about her, until you realize that Max is actually looking at you, out of the corner of his eye. He’s testing you.

You feel so jealous, and you start to panic. You would like to tell her off, but you know how much Max hates arguing in public, so you walk over to the table and grab your rucksack.

“I need some fresh air…” you say, desperately trying to make eye contact with Max. The waitress barely looks at you and continues to flirt with him.

“Alright, babe. Just don’t go far.” he replies.

You make your way to the red Mustang and wait for Max. You can clearly see him, still talking to that girl. Please, Max... come back to me. I need you.

Suddenly the girl’s face changes expression, and her eyes tenses up. Max gets up and walks out of the diner, visibly irritated.

You turn around and you jolt as he kisses your neck.

“You alright?” he asks as you sit in the car.

“What did you tell her?” you can’t help but ask him.

He’s glad you asked. “Who? Who are you talking about?—oh, I see. That unclean and corrupt girl. Well, I told her that I already found a companion for that long walk to the light.”

You secretly smile, but Max lifts your chin so you can look at him. “For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. James 3:16” he quotes by heart. “Don’t be jealous, there’s no use. Instead, you should pray for her as I do.” he kisses you slowly. “It’s getting late, darlin’. Let’s move.”

Back in your motel room, you keep watching out the window. You know he tricked you into thinking he was going to flirt with that girl, but deep down you feel so stupid for being so jealous of that girl. You feel so insecure, despite Max reassuring you.

“C'mere, darling.”

You ignore him, so Max gets up and hugs you from behind.

“There’s no one out there waiting for you. Everything you need is right here, in my arms.” he wraps his arms around you and you rest your head on his chest. You inhale his scent and close your eyes.

“You can’t live without me.” he coos as you feel his erection pulsing against you. Your body responds automatically. You're so addicted to him, and he knows that. Yes, he does.

He’s right, you know he’s damn right. He controls your body, he’s manipulating your mind, and soon it will be your soul’s turn. You’ll end up worshipping him fully and blindly, as cult members worship their leader. In the end, you’ll be his forever.

“You. Can’t. Live. Without. Me.” he repeats again. You’re too confused to realize it’s actually a threat.

“We had a long, difficult day…why don’t we go to bed, huh?”

You lie down on the bed as he towers over you.

Yesterday you failed, today you failed again, and tomorrow… perhaps tomorrow you’ll have the strength to leave him for good.

He presses his thumb against your lips, and you open your mouth and suck it unconsciously. “Good girl, you’re learning… you’re as meek as a lamb.” he smiles at you, stroking your cheek.

“Tomorrow you’ll learn a psalm for me. The one you like best. If you can learn it by heart, you’ll get your reward. Would you do it for Daddy? Would you make Daddy happy? I know you will. But for now...”

“...for now, Daddy’s gonna take care of you.” he says as he unbuckles his belt.

[bunnylafee]

Things you don't want to hear. I'm sure of.

Late at night when I can't sleep and my insomnia is acting up. The poetry bubbles up. How I miss sending you sweet nothings and longing for your kisses. I'll settle for a hug from you if that's all I'm allowed.

My heart and soul still sings at the thought of you. I just want to write you sweet words or babble them at you while fumbling over my words with those eyes gazing upon me. That slightly crooked smile you would have when I was done or the way you half rubbed half bit at your thumb and lower lip when you would read my words. I swear I could almost see your heart skip a beat or beat faster. The flush on my face when you were done and just stared into my soul with that sweet smile of yours. How they sparkled. So many times I professed my love to you, over and over again. So many times I opened myself up like never before.

You saw a side of me I rarely showed to others. I told you things I haven't even discussed with my therapist, my deepest darkest secrets. You were always the first person and last person I texted in my day. Two and a half years we lasted. We had a good run. If I could, I would still be with you.

I keep thinking this is just a bad dream. Like you're trying to prove a point to me, that I'm in some type of time out. That you'll take me back and we will just forget this ever happened. Wishful thinking.

I have to work on me. I have to be a much better version of myself. I need to be a better version of myself. I need to be stronger and not weak like I am now. I need to get my moods under control or I'll continue to be a wreck. You were always the voice of reason and chaos has ensued without it. My demons have been playing with having their way and they don't play so nice at times. I've become a bit meaner with my internal dialog, the voices have also become meaner. They try to tear me down daily and lately, they have been winning.

None of this is your fault, it just so happened when you left my life you left a huge hole in it that darkness decided to fill. Anger, sadness, bad voices, chaos and so on. It feels like you took all the love with you and I'm lost. I know it's just buried or in hiding but it's just hard to hold right now. I need to learn to be more gentle and compassionate with myself. To give myself more credit for how far I've come in not just the year since being back in therapy but over this past month. Oh how I've grown.

Everyday day is a struggle and trust me, it IS a struggle. A struggle to not cry, a struggle to get out of bed, a struggle to not think about you all day,every day. A struggle wondering if you think about me and how much. A struggle to not show the world how much of a mess I am. A struggle to not show barely any emotions around anyone that isn't somewhat positive. Put on a brave face and face the world.

I thank you everyday though for the time we did spend together. How I wish it never ended. I got to experience the best feeling of love in the world. The way you would look at me would melt me. I miss it.