#i slept a ton and the hours just passed me by... but at times like this you need a recharge for sure

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

Work pressure 😿🐈

[seeingivy]

dinner party

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's (older brother) fic

previous part linked here

an: what is going on in the house of commons (I do not know) MAJOR CRINGE ALERT but it's part of the lore idgaf this was a long time coming

--

it’s four thirty in the morning when sukuna decides to pry you from your computer. 

he’s almost positive that he’s going to get pushed back, cued on by the combination of your sleep deprivation and the concerning amount of energy drinks he knows you must have consumed within the hour. 

but the tangled mess of your hair and your deep, dark eye bags, have bothered him long enough – and if anything – he’s given you tons of grace for letting it go on for four days. 

sukuna gets working hard. he just can’t stand by working yourself to the bone. 

he finds you hunched over on the kitchen island, head down on the counter as you scribble away on your notebook – a sizable amount of ink smeared on your hands, a few empty wrappers of protein bars at your side, and your eyes barely open. 

sukuna leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter, before reaching forward to push your computer shut. the sound that follows jolts you out of your concentration, to find an…almost irritated sukuna sleepily rubbing his eyes. 

“hey. did i wake you up? i dropped the glass earlier by accident.” you mumble. 

“you broke a glass?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah. most of it is in the corner over there, i’ll swear i’ll clean it up as soon as i’m done.” 

sukuna opens his eyes fully this time, to find the stacked pile of glass sitting in the little corner, sparing you a glare before reaching for the little bin. the guilt flares up in you as you watch him drag his tired body over to the side, carefully shuffling all of the little shards away into the bag,

“sukuna. you don’t have to do that. i was going to clean it up.” 

“well, fuck off now. more time for you to sleep if i do it for you.” he mumbles. 

you’re positive he meant to make that more domineering then it ended up being. 

and it’s horrible. it’s been days since you’ve slept next to him, always climbing in as he’s climbing out to go to work – pressing a consolation kiss to his cheek before you pass out into the sheets. and now he’s up in the middle of the night, cleaning your mess just to ensure you a few more minutes of rest. 

“i’m almost done with my personal statement, i just want to make sure it’s done before i send it out to-” 

“your personal shit will still be there tomorrow.” 

you sigh. the pulsating in your head throbs quietly, eyelids heavy and aching from the light of the screen, tiredness sagging in your bones – dragging your limbs down as you lean on one of your arms. 

you still have three paragraphs left to write. your activities section could be better. you need to upload your transcripts and make sure that the letters were uploaded to the portal properly. and- 

“i’m almost done, really. i was just going to come to bed and-” 

“perfect! come now.” 

sukuna switches sides, walking up behind you and replacing his fingers with yours on your head. he can feel the pulsating under his fingertips, noting the way you lean your head against his chest and lean back the second he starts massaging into your skin. 

“you’re starting to fucking piss me off.” sukuna mutters. 

that’s what he says. it sounds more like you’re starting to concern me. 

“i’m coming, sukuna. just give me a few more minutes, okay?” 

sukuna pulls the stool at your side, before looping both of his hands around your thighs and pulling you up into his lap. his hands are steady – holding you firmly at your sides – as he looks up at you and you dig your hands into the hardness of his collarbone. 

you loop your fingers through the silver chain around sukuna’s neck, tugging on the little dog tag charm at the end to pull him closer to you. it’s a chaste kiss that you press to his lips and you you can feel him staring after – big, brown eyes peering into yours – as he kneads his hands into your skin.

you scoff. 

“are you poking my butt?” you ask. 

“maybe a little.” sukuna responds. 

“you’re such a dog.” 

“you cop a feel almost everyday. god forbid i touch my girlfriend’s butt.” 

sukuna reaches forward, tucking one of the loose strands behind your ear. 

“we used to be a real country, y’know? people used to touch butts all the time.” 

you smile and sukuna reaches up to run his fingers over your lips, the softness mirrored on his face too. and you know that a lecture is going to follow, so you bury your hands into his messy bedhead. 

“you have to fucking stop this shit.” sukuna states. 

you sigh. 

“i know. it’s just that once i start, i find it hard to stop. i just want to finish it all in one go.” 

“you want to clean up animal shit that badly?” 

you groan. 

“you’re so mean, sukuna. it’s not cleaning up animal shit…” 

“yeah, yeah…i’ve heard your whole healing and love for the earth and animals shit before, i know.” 

you dig your hands into his scalp. 

“i…i just want to make sure that i only have to apply to veterinary school once.” 

“you’re being stubborn. so what if you have to try again? it’s not a big deal.” sukuna states. 

“s’not about that. i just can’t afford to do it again, sukuna. it costs thousands of dollars and i’ve been saving up for so long. i’d hate to see the overtime i worked go to waste when i don’t even get in.” you murmur. 

sukuna doesn’t think it through when he says it. he’s almost certain that if he had thought through it properly though, it would have been the same conclusion. 

“i’ll pay for it.” sukuna states. 

it’s a horrible sensation – like pins and needles in your chest. 

you knew that sukuna was rich. that his family was rich. 

and that in earnest, sukuna probably would pay for it without even batting an eye. it wouldn’t even be the first time that you would have taken a handout from his family – for rent, car loans, when you applied to college. 

mrs. itadori was too generous. it seeped into sukuna too. 

but you refuse to take handouts from your boyfriend. not when the debt you have to pay them back is already so high. 

“are you crazy? you can’t just offer to pay for my vet school applications if i don’t get in anywhere this time around.”  

“you know i have a job right?” sukuna responds. 

“i know you have a job. but you can’t just offer it up like that! you’re acting like it’s just a five dollar iced coffee or something. it costs thousands of dollars, sukuna.” 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“it’s like an investment. you can pay me back.” sukuna states. 

the same line mrs. itadori uses. it never feels that way when they’re the one quietly shuffling you money in envelopes when you have eviction notices on your door that you never pay back. 

“you would never take my money.” you state. 

sukuna grins, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your collarbone. 

“you know me so well, princess.” 

you frown. 

“and you expect me to take yours.” you mumble. 

sukuna runs his hands through the front of your hair, before angling your down up so that you’re looking at him. 

“you know i only have a stable income because of my parents, right? that’s…i had a leg up, sweetheart. didn’t have to worry about working during school – hell, i went fucking abroad just because i could.” 

you glare at him. 

“that’s…that’s such a copout. i can’t just take a handout from you because things are harder for me. i know that you may have had some things considerably easier but that doesn’t mean i can just…start taking your money.” 

he glares back. 

“considerably easier is the understatement of the year. and i have every intent to let you pay me back when you’re a cushy doctor. you’re going to buy me a new motorcycle with that money.” 

sukuna watches the thought rattle around in your head. 

“we’re in it for the long haul. not a big deal if i have to help you pay for vet school applications, which i won’t have to because you’ll get in, but what’s mine is yours. s’gonna be our future student loan.” he murmurs. 

there’s the ghost of a smile on your face. sukuna’s fingers continue to meld softly into the hardness of your hip bones, the sensation so soothing it almost makes you keel your head back. 

and you’re sure that’s part of it – the soft touch, the overexertion, the crippling fear that you’re about to graduate and not even sure what you’ll be doing next year, that you could fail and have to rely on him – that makes you start bursting into tears and stand up to wrap your arms around him.  

you delude yourself for a second into thinking that’s how it could be. that maybe for once you wouldn’t have to worry about this type of thing, because he would be there to help you. that he would let you pay him back, that it would be your money. 

“i can’t take your money, sukuna.” you whisper. 

sukuna smiles. 

“you would do it for me.” 

“i wouldn’t be able to do it for you. i-i would want to but…” 

sukuna frowns. 

“you know money doesn’t mean shit to me right?” 

you sigh. 

“but it does to me. we already owe you so much and…and this can’t be another thing on the list of stuff i have to pay back.” you state. 

sukuna hooks his hands under your knees, before tilting you over his back and marching his way back to the room. there’s angry grumbling under his breath, that’s fully intelligible to you and makes your breath hitch. 

“why are we having this stupid fucking conversation at four in the morning? i’m not about to get into the whole logistics of marriage and shared bank accounts when you can’t even stop giggling after i touch your thighs sometimes. just chill the fuck out.” 

you feel bad. but you can’t help but laugh at how stupid he sounds as he flops you flat onto the sheets – that he haphazardly mentioned marrying you – as he rummages through the closet for your pajamas. you can tell that he’s tabled it for now and you’re more than grateful as your eyelids start to heavy with sleep. 

“arms up.” 

you oblige as he reaches for your shirt – and lightly push him as he tangles it over your head for far too long – before pulling it straight off. there’s a wide smile on his face and you reach for his wrist to stop him. 

“what’s wrong?” 

not the time. 

“nothing! i just….nothing, sorry.” 

you take the shirt from his hands before slipping it over your head and switching into the shorts. sukuna’s always quick with things like this – closing his eyes and turning around – always waiting until you were done. 

besides your momentary lapse in awkwardness when you were able to take the bath with him, you hadn’t pushed anything farther. but it was pooling in the pit of your stomach – that want to be closer to him, moving in tandem with him for something…more intimate. 

you’d talk to him about it on the weekend. 

--

“are you…sitting at the kids table?” 

you look up to find a blonde girl standing against the back end of the wall, nursing a little glass of wine in her hands. you shoot the group of kids an apologetic smile before you push off the floor, rubbing the red spots in your knee from the carpet, before giving a polite smile. 

“ah. i kind of lost my boyfriend…and i can’t find my friends. they were also playing the entire game wrong and it was hurting my soul a little bit.” 

the girl laughs, pushing her hair behind her shoulder before extending her hand out to you. 

“valid. i’d do the same thing. i’m kisa.” she states. 

you swear you know her from somewhere. though the likelihood of that is probably ninety percent – there wasn’t anyone in this town who didn’t know each other. 

“i’m y/n.” 

“wait. y/n? are you sammy’s sister?”  

point proven. 

“that’s right. yeah, she’s here somewhere. our mom was invited, she’s really good friends with mrs. itadori.” you. 

she hums in response, as you watch people shuffle in and out of the room. there’s a highly doctored smell of perfume in the room – billowing black dresses and shiny pearls – as all of you mom’s friends amble around the foyer taking their pictures. 

mrs. itadori spent a decent amount of her time planning extravagant dinner parties. and once in a while, you had to drag yourself all the way out here to show your face with yuuji. it was hardly pleasant. 

yuuji’s dad would always make a shitty comment, sammy’s ass kissing would be at its peak, and the two of you would be left to fend for the wolves. 

sukuna, naturally, knew this. so he decided to attend to. 

you just didn’t realize he’d be so popular. neither did yuuji and it makes your skin itch that you don’t know where he is right now. or that you can’t resolve the tension that he must be feeling – especially when it’s about sukuna. 

“why are you here?” 

she grins. 

“i have this really hot ex-boyfriend. i was figuring he might be here tonight since he’s back in town.” 

“do tell.” 

“oh, he’s gorgeous. like, i don’t want to objectify men, but i literally do. he’s like attractive in a ‘i want to pour battery acid into my eyes every time he looks at me’ kind of way.” 

you laugh.

“the best kind of attractive.” you affirm. 

“you get me, bitch! it’s like…i don’t mean to be so crude…and i’ve already had three glasses of wine so i’m going to blame it on that…but i need to get dicked down. fuck, i’d even suck his dick if he let me. and i hate sucking dick!” 

you snort. 

weirdly enough, this is one of your favorite things about parties like these. or going to the bar. talking to random girls in the bathroom – finding out that it’s their bachelorette party or whatever boy problems they’re having. there’s a soft solace in other people like this – that talk so openly with strangers, with a quiet trust that you can’t really seem to place. 

“weird question. why do you hate it?” you ask. 

“not weird at all, honey. it’s just not very fun to do. but sometimes it is, when you can tell the person really likes it. like my ex-boyfriend, i’d suck his dick all the time just because i wanted to, just because i liked to make him feel good. and he really loved it. and some people are fucking into it, i don’t know, they love to suck dick and do that type of thing. s’all about your interests.” 

you nod, mulling over her answer in your head. 

“do you like sucking dick?....that sounds more crude when i say it but also i’ve been talking about it for the past twenty seconds so.” she asks. 

“no! no, it’s not rude. and i asked. um, i haven’t done it before. i mean, i have or…or at least tried to but i don’t count that for…other reasons and stuff. but no, i haven’t.” 

“do you want to? you’re pretty, you said you have a boyfriend right?” 

you smile. 

“yeah. yeah, i just…get nervous about that type of thing. we haven’t done anything yet but i feel like we might soon.” 

she narrows her eyes. 

“he doesn’t pressure you, right?” 

along with the quiet trust, there’s always a well of concern. 

“no! no, the opposite really.” 

“good shit. well, don’t think about it so hard. it’ll come to you naturally. plus, when you like someone a lot, that type of stuff kind of comes with it. like my ex-boyfriend? total fucking sweetie pie. he could be standing in front of me and i’d dick him down right now if he asked. just for old times sake.” 

you laugh. 

“i really hope you find him. and get dicked down for your own sake.”  

“he was just so fucking hot! i’ve never had a guy make me feel like that. it’s like…i couldn’t have really reached my prime at my highschool prom with a guy two years younger than me…that’s embarrassing.” 

you pale. and right at that moment, sukuna walks up to you, eyes wide as he glares at you. 

“what the fuck are you doing?” 

“sukuna.”

you pause, the awkwardness of his name falling out of your mouths at the same time confirming your suspicions. 

just your luck, her aforementioned, beautiful ex-boyfriend, is sukuna. 

“sukuna! i didn’t realize you were back.” 

you can feel your chest simmering. because now she’s batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair in response to him. sukuna doesn’t even spare her a second glance and instead uses it to shoot bullets at you with his eyes. 

“what are you doing?” 

“i didn’t know! how was i supposed to know?” you whisper.

“we all went to the same school, y/n.” 

“i don’t memorize what all your ex-girlfriends look like sukuna. i have a very small thread of self-confidence and i’m hell bent on keeping it for the time being.” you respond. 

sukuna doesn’t find your joke funny. 

“do you guys know each other or something?” kisa asks. 

“kisa. this is my girlfriend, y/n. she was best friends with yuuji, remember?” sukuna states. 

she pauses for a second, before jolting up. 

“ah. the little one who used to take the cheerleading pictures, right? frizzy hair, big glasses?” she asks. 

you pinch your lips into a straight line. 

“that would be me!” you state. 

“shut the fuck up.” sukuna responds, before yanking you by the elbow into the kitchen at the side. 

you spare her a last glance over your shoulder – confusion spreading over her face – followed by the seclusion to the quiet of the kitchen. 

sukuna leans back against the fridge, running his hands through his hair, giving tight-lipped polite smiles through the people passing through the rooms. 

“what did you talk about?” 

you dig your fingers into your palm. sukuna picks up on it. 

“nothing. just pleasantries and stuff. it wasn’t a big deal!” 

“tell me. i can tell whatever it was is making you feel like shit.” 

you take a deep breath. 

“i don’t feel like shit, i just-” 

“are you guys fighting about something?” 

your eyes widen as you turn to yuuji, leaning against the frame of the door with his arms crossed on his chest. you muster a peachy smile, shaking your head as you walk up to his side and loop your arm through his. 

“of course not. we never fight!” you state. 

yuuji raises his eyebrow. 

“you never fight? ever?” 

“no! no, of course we fight. all the time actually.” you state. 

you look over at sukuna, who starts gesturing to you with his hands – with an irritated look on his face. 

what the hell are you talking about? 

you gesture back, shrugging as yuuji shuffles the two of you over to the drinks, filling up the glasses. 

“well, that doesn’t sound very healthy.” 

you take a deep breath in. 

“we don’t fight an abnormal amount. we’re like normal couples. we fight and then make up. there’s nothing weird about us actually, we’re perfect! It’s-it’s like conflict resolution and-” 

yuuji laughs, before leaning closer to you and wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

“who are you trying to convince? me or yourself? you’re rambling so much.” 

you groan, burying your palms into your eye sockets – you’re already messing this up. royally. yuuji gives you a warm smile, one that you can see from the little gaps in between your fingers, as you cross your arms and lean against the counter. yuuji gives sukuna a small nod, as sukuna takes the spot at your side, and links his arm around your shoulder. 

it feels wrong to be so openly affectionate like that. for him to pull you closer to him when yuuji’s standing right there. 

you lift your shoulders slightly until he drops his hand and you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“so really. what happened?” 

“nothing. i was talking to kisa and didn’t realize it was kisa.” 

yuuji leans his head back. 

“which one is she again? the neighbor?” 

you can feel a wave of discomfort, of an unnecessary defense bubbling up in your chest. he wasn’t actually talking to the neighbor – she just wanted advice on whether or not she should break up with her boyfriend. 

and sukuna told her not to. 

“no. she’s the girl sukuna went to prom with.” you state, brushing down the pleats of your skirt. 

“ahh, that’s right. his first girlfriend.” 

yuuji circles the last sip of his drink in his cup before downing it and turning to both of you at his side. 

“so what the hell is he so pissed about? you can’t talk to people now?” 

“he wasn’t mad. we were just talking, yuuji.” 

“you looked pretty mad. and you were whispering in hushed tones.” yuuji states. 

sukuna clears his throat and you can tell that he’s simmering with irritation from the way his fists are clenched and curled at his side. the animosity in his eyes does little to help too. 

“i just wanted to know what they talked about and clear up anything that she might have said that might not be true. i don’t want her to get the wrong idea.” sukuna states. 

yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“she’s a grown woman. i think she can tell right from wrong by herself. and i’m positive that if she did say anything, it’s not anything that wouldn’t be true.” 

you shove yuuji in the side. 

“what’s your problem? you’re being so mean.” 

“i’m not being mean! it’s just a fact. you…you know how he can be. do you really think he just changed like that?” 

maybe it’s a mix of things. 

that sukuna’s ex-girlfriend just spent five minutes telling you about how much he apparently loves to get his dick sucked and you have yet to muster up the courage to do it. or that your hair’s been getting consecutively oily as the night goes on and sticking to your forehead or that yuuji tends to throw some hurdle into your relationship every chance he seems to get. 

or that you can’t pay for vet school so it’s time to cut back on iced coffee since you’re going to be taking a loan or that your mom’s walking around in fake pearls and someone most definitely will make a comment about it that’ll have her leaving the party crying. 

or that you can never seem to win. or do anything right. 

“you’re such an asshole sometimes. why do you always have to talk about him like that? do you think i’m so pathetic that he’s going to leave me for some girl he literally talked to six years ago? do you think i’m so pathetic that i’d date someone like that?” you mutter, before brushing past his shoulder and leaving the room. 

sukuna can feel that irritation festering up in him and makes his best efforts to swallow it down as he turns to yuuji. sukuna debates his options – following you or beating it out of yuuji. 

the second one seems more productive for the time being. 

he turns and can immediately clock that yuuji feels bad – his face drooping like it would whenever sukuna would beat him in a video game or leave their board game early to hang out with his friends. 

“what the hell is your problem?” sukuna asks. 

the drooping is replaced with anger, an irritability as yuuji scoffs before turning around. 

“what’s yours?” yuuji mutters. 

sukuna reaches for his collar, shaking him from filling up his glass again, before yuuji meets his eyes again. 

“no, seriously. what the fuck is your problem? why can’t you just be happy for her? we were getting along just fine before this until you decided to be a little bitch about it.” sukuna asks. 

yuuji rolls his eyes. he pulls back, tussling out of his grasp before leaning against the closed door of the fridge. 

“i didn’t have a problem with you. but you’re doing the same shit as before – being careless. and you’re doing it with my best friend.” 

sukuna wants to punch him in the face. 

“are you ever going to be satisfied with what you have? you just had to have her too? she was my friend first.” yuuji states.

sukuna doesn't know why it flares up in him - that possessiveness. you don't belong to him but you certainly don't belong to yuuji either. he doesn't get to stake a claim on you just because he knew you first.

“you sound like a pathetic child. you know you don’t own her, right? you can’t fathom that she could have someone else be special to her that isn’t you? that you can’t be a spoiled little kid and have to learn how to share?” 

sukuna’s hit a nerve, though he’s not entirely sure why. but now yuuji’s crying, shoving him hard into the counter, before his pounding footsteps reside as he runs up the stairs.

there’s an immediate guilt, coupled with a resounding headache. 

--

when sukuna makes it back to the apartment – after having dozed off for a decent amount of the train ride home – he’s thrown off when you push him against the wall the second you make it back into the house. and dig your hands under his shirt, dangerously lower than you ever have before. 

“jesus. what’s wrong with-” 

he can barely finish because you’re cutting him off by kissing him – almost aggressively – and latching your arms around his neck and jumping up onto his thighs. he’s quick to catch you, your legs locked around his waist as you pant into his mouth, kissing every spare patch of skin you can find. 

“what are you-” 

he can’t even get a sentence out. 

“doing, pretty girl?” 

it’s almost like you don’t hear him or something. there’s something insatiable burning in your eyes, nearly twitching with a fervor with something that he’s never really seen before. 

correction. something that he’s never seen in your eyes before. he’s seen it before – hundreds of times. in the shitty bathroom in the bar, from the girl he met on the dating app, and even kisa back in the day. but not with you.

he almost hates it.

sukuna pushes you back, resting your legs against the weight of the kitchen counter before letting go and trying to pull away. 

but it’s almost like you’re trying to entice him. grabbing him by his necklace and pulling him back into you, letting one hand roaming through his hair and the other underneath his shirt. 

there’s an insatiable fire pooling in his stomach. but it’s the wrong timing. and it’s almost too…tantalizing, too tempting that it felt wrong. 

this was not how he was going to do this with you – at least not the first time. 

he was no stranger to it – the intense, all consuming feeling that came with this. a part of him even wanted it. but he wanted the other side first, that aspect of it more. 

the part that he never had. the romance, the yearning, and the godawful ache. 

the love making. 

he had every intent to worship you the second he got, to drag it out for as long as he could. like he was a man starved, like he’d never get a chance to do it again. 

and there was no way he was going to bring that out, or be able to even do that, on the heels of his argument with yuuji, after whatever it was that kisa must have said that had you so worked up. 

sukuna doesn’t know what else to do. so he brings his hand up and takes a fist full of your hair – and uses it to yank you off of him. you’re panting hard, eyes nearly glazed over as you look at him and reach down this time. 

reaching for the buckle of his pants. sukuna reaches for your wrists and squeezes hard. 

“what are you doing?” he whispers. 

you pant, before shaking your head. 

“you know…” you respond, gesturing with your hands. 

“i don’t know. what are you doing?” he deadpans. 

you glare at him. 

“you know…we’ve been dating for some time now. and we love each other…it…it’s only right to do this type of thing. don’t you want to?” 

it’s that same meek look – that squirrely, almost timid way of talking. when he heard that godawful comparison for the first time, that filled him with an unappeasble rage. 

lipstick on a pig. 

it aggravates him to his core because he hasn’t heard it in months. that awkward, shy voice. he had gotten used to the real one – filled with a comfortable confidence. that cracked jokes and poked fun at him all the time. 

the part of you that saw him like a real person. 

“sure i do, princess. you know you drive me crazy, right?” 

you give him a grin, before reaching back for the buckle of his belt. and for a second time, he’s quick to pull on your wrists again, before leaning his forehead against yours, his breath tickling the tip of your nose. 

“no, seriously. what are you doing?” 

you bite into the hardness of your cheek, pinching your eyes shut. 

it’s not awkward. just say it. 

“i’m trying to…suck your dick.” 

sukuna takes a deep breath, using his pointer finger to angle your face back up by your chin, brown eyes overwhelmingly warm and soft as he looks at you. and it aggravates you. you know what he’s going to say. 

“you…you can’t stop me, you know? i’m ready to do this. i’ve..i’ve been thinking about it for a while.” 

sukuna raises his eyebrows, almost like he’s disbelieving of what you’re saying, before he talks. 

“okay, angel. can you just kiss me first?” 

you feel your cheeks burn. 

“what?” 

“i’m okay with it if you want to. i just want you to kiss me first.” 

you laugh, before cupping the side of his face and rubbing over the soft indent of his dimple. 

“are you being serious? you’re not like…copping me out right?” 

sukuna glares at you. 

“i just fucking asked you to kiss me. you just pounced on me like a fucking lion out of nowhere.” 

you bring your hands to his cheeks and can’t help but smile into his face. 

“why are you…so cute? you just want me to kiss you?” 

sukuna wrinkles his nose in disgust, before reaching forward to pinch the sensitive skin on your arm. 

“you fucking ruined it. now you’re never sucking my dick.” 

you snort. 

“well…technically i did kiss you. just really aggressively.” you mumble. 

sukuna’s laugh is soft, almost quiet as he leans forward to press a kiss to your hair. 

“kiss me properly. i’m not going anywhere. i…i want to savor it.” 

you swallow hard, as he takes over the open space in between your legs, and leans forward. his hair is tickling your forehead, your breaths slow as you cycle in tandem, and you loop your arms around his torso. 

there’s a small amount of desperation in the way that sukuna kisses you, a burning that ignites over your skin and makes your stomach drop to your core. but it’s almost like he’s slowing you down, curbing that feeling in your chest – by ubbing circles into your back, a contentment in his demeanor – that you’re cued into by the way he’s smiling into the kiss. 

that’s when you realize. 

“you’re not going to let me do it, are you?” you murmur, whispering against his lips. 

“perceptive.” sukuna mumbles back, before pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

you groan, which has the smallest of laughs bubbling out of him. it’s free of any teasing – that you’re positive of as he lifts your hands to his lips and presses a kiss on each of your knuckles. 

“i like the rings. wonder what your hands would look like around my…” 

“well, now you’re just being fucking annoying.” 

“i’m joking.” 

you sigh, leaning your cheek against his shoulder, as you blink hard. 

“why not?” 

as quickly as that quiet, squirrely voice came back, it’s almost like he decimated it in his hands with a few seconds. if this were months prior, it would have taken him weeks to convince you that he still liked you. 

you had stopped viewing his actions as swift rejections, as slights against you, and started taking them for what they were. 

sukuna was going to kill yuuji for trying to shit on your relationship later. you were meant to be together, that much was obvious. 

“yuuji and i kind of…fought. i want to be in the right mood when we do this.” 

you lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands. 

“you know, he’s starting to really make me mad. he should just leave us alone if it pisses him off that much and-” 

“i said more than he did. it’s my fault. i’ll apologize tomorrow.” 

you shake your head. and there’s an awkward silence, before sukuna asks. 

“so what did she say? i know that didn’t come out of nowhere, even if you were thinking about it before.” 

you groan, digging your face into his neck. 

it’s almost embarrassing now. 

“she was there to see you. wanted to get dicked down by you. and mentioned that apparently you really like having your dick sucked? i don’t know…i just…had a long week. vet school and my mom and yuuji and…and you. figured i’d at least relieve some tension and give you what you wanted. like two birds in one stone type of thing.” 

“please don’t refer to sex as a stone.” sukuna deadpans.

you laugh and it makes sukuna smile. 

“the only thing i want is you.” 

you sigh.

“ugh! i’m…i’m so annoyed because i actually know that. if you were going to get up and leave you would have done it by now because it’s been months but i just…felt so stupid or like undercooked or something because we haven’t done it yet that i just-” 

“do you feel like you have something to prove?” 

you bite your lip. 

“i guess. it’s about you but…but it’s about other stuff too. i want to be strong enough to do it. i don’t want to let bad experiences hold me back when you’re obviously a good guy and obviously good in bed but-” 

sukuna smirks. 

“obviously?” 

“you’re so annoying.” 

sukuna wraps his hands around your cheeks, before pulling you up to look at him. and practices the way he’s worded this in his head a hundred times, hoping that it comes out right. 

“angel?” 

“yeah?” 

“about what you said. about other stuff.” 

it’s almost like you’re a kicked dog, trying to retreat after he mentioned it. 

“i don’t want to push you into telling me. and you don’t have to. i can…i can piece some of it together. but i just need to know what not to do. i’ll never forgive myself if i ever hurt you, especially if it’s something regarding this.” 

he leans his forehead against yours, his voice so quiet that it makes your chest ache, with overwhelming, sincere love of his consideration for you. 

“i’m sorry it happened to you. you don’t even have to tell me. write me a list or send me an email. i just need to know what’s off limits, anything that could possibly…remind you of anything that happened to you.” 

you angle your face back up, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips before pulling back. 

“are you tired?” you ask. 

he leans back, in confusion. 

“no?” 

“then, i’ll tell you right now.” 

sukuna’s eyes widen. 

“i’m not trying to pressure you.” 

you smile, before linking your hands into his. 

“i know. you’re not. i’ve been thinking about how to talk to you about it. and one of the biggest hurdles is…having to address that it happened? but if you already know…all i have to do is tell you now. and…” 

you sigh. 

“and it’s you. i feel safe enough to tell you about it but just…just don’t be weird about it?” 

sukuna reaches forward, crossing a little x shape onto your chest. you tilt your head to the side, in confusion. 

“what was that?” 

“crossing your heart. like the promise?” 

“you’re supposed to cross your own heart.” 

sukuna glares. 

“i’m not going to spell it out for you. you’re smart enough to figure it out.” 

it takes a few seconds, but you reach the conclusion. 

sukuna crossed your heart instead of his. he made the promise on yours, because yours was more important than his own – enough to make an oath on.

yours over his. 

it’s the only reason you’re able to muster enough courage to even tell him what happened in the first place.

--

next part linked here

an: ladies and gentleman, we cringe. (this was a long time coming but it's for plot purposes)

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[queers-gambit]

Now and at the Hour of His Death

prompt: any who say, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," were never loved by him.

pairing: Osferth x female!pregnant!wife!reader

fandom: The Last Kingdom

word count: 6.1k+

note: fuck you, Netflix.

warnings: you already know - author needs therapy, projects hard, pregnant wife, Lord’s name in vain, Christianity (obviously), and a fuck ton of fucking ANGST because fuck your feelings. hurt NO comfort, drama, oneshot, cursing, canon-typical violence, injury, and blood. character death and spoilers - yeah, i'm giving you THAT scene. requires maturity and caution. good luck.

also please note: NO, i do not age Osferth to be 16 - that's just a reference age for when he eventually runs away from the monastery.

again, you are missing nothing if this upsets or triggers you and you choose to skip. value your wellbeing, my angels. author is not responsible for the media YOU choose consume, but still, as usual, MDNI

"You should not be doing this sort of work," Ingrith's voice scolded you, and when you turned, you saw the blonde woman standing with her hip cocked and a stern expression. "It's bad for your health to be in such filth, we've stable boys for this sort of chore."

"I do not mind," you sniffled in the brisk air, shoveling the horse shit of the stable into a muck bucket to be dumped into the fields later. "It keeps me busy," you grunted lightly, sure to bend your knees when lifting the pitchfork, "keeps me humble," you listed, dumping the waste to grin at your friend, "and keeps me young."

"In what way?"

"Reminds me of my childhood," you eased, continuing your work. "I slept in a stable from the ages of 4 to... Oh, shit, I guess I was about 16 before I left The Loft."

"What?" She breathed in confusion. "Never knew that."

"Yeah, yeah, true story," you beamed at her, still shoveling shit. "I slept in the stalls with the horses, sometimes in the grain rooms - basically anywhere I could since my work didn't include official room and board, so, I had to make do with what was available. Then, one day when I was about ten, Old Man Rivers said I could use the hay loft if I cleared it out, fixed the rotten planks. Stayed up there till I was about 16, and after that, I kinda ran away."

"Old Man Rivers?"

You nodded, "My mother lived on his homestead, but she was real sick, you see. So, he kinda took me in without assuming responsibility for me," you cleared your throat, shrugging, "let me stay in his barn if I worked with the horses and livestock for him."

"Why would you want to be reminded of that?"

"Seems simpler when I look back."

Ingrith sighed, "C'mon, put the pitchfork down. Come help me prepare the rabbits. The scouts say the men aren't too far off, they'll want a hot meal."

You chuckled with ease and set your pitchfork aside, giving a hearty pat to one of the horse's necks as you passed by to exit the stable. Ingrith made sure you washed up before you were both mounting rabbits on the rack to start skinning them.

"Could I ask something?" She wondered after a time.

"Anything you'd like."

"Why'd you run away? From Old Man Rivers?"

You laughed, "I was in love."

"Oh, you and Baby Monk go that far back, huh?"

"Try even farther," you teased. "Our mothers were friends, and when I worked in the stable, he was in the monastery, but when he came to me, saying he couldn't do it any longer, I couldn't let him go alone. Life was supposed to offer more than what we were given, so, we set out to find the legendary barbarian, The Dane Slayer," you teased, both giggling, "our Lord, the legendary, Uhtred of Bebbanburg."

"And all this time...?" She smiled, watching you shuck hide like you've done it your whole life. Ingrith inferred you probably did.

"Yeah," you eased, "all this time, he's been by my side. Kept me close, never left me behind. The others weren't too sure about me on account of being a woman, they told us to piss off a few times - but they came around after Osferth refused to send me away."

"He's a good lad, Osferth," she nodded.

"Arguably one of the best ones," you agreed, nudging her arm gently, "but look who I'm telling, right?"

"Oh!" She giggled, swatting at you loosely before going back to your work for a moment. Suddenly, the townspeople of Rumcofa stirred to life, and over the voices, you heard them announcing their Lord's return - which meant all of your men were home. You both grinned and breathlessly left your post, Ingrith pausing a young lad to ask, "How many return to us?"

"Does it matter? Come, c'mon, let us see ourselves!" You all but squealed, overwhelmed with excitment; eager for your own reunion with the man you've loved since you were a young lass.

"Warn the alehouse!" Finan was heard shouting. "Osferth's thirsty!"

"Jesus," you laughed, dodging around the procession of people waiting to greet their warriors on their return home so you could approach the white gelding your husband rode.

His face was absolutely priceless when he caught sight of you. As Osferth eagerly dismounted, your hands smoothed over the small swell of your belly - purposefully wearing a dress that accentuated your ever-changing figure. "Am I dreaming?" He laughed, a stablehand taking hold of his horse so his hands were free to caress your belly. "Oh, my God, I'm not, 's real, oh, God," he beamed, laughing with you. "You're pregnant? Truly? Yes? I-I am not - I am not being deceived?"

"No, my love, I guess our prayers were finally heard."

"OH-HOOOO!" You heard Finan holler as Osferth finally pulled you in for a sweet kiss; both ignoring the Irishman. "Lord! LORD! Uhtred! Hey! Did you hear!? Baby Monk's got some spunk in 'im afta all!"

"Oh, God," you laughed against Osferth's lips, but he was quick to shush you with another breath-stealing kiss.

"A baby Baby Monk! AHA!" Finan was still laughing, your husband's hands caressing both your cheeks when he pulled back just in time for Finan to descend. You grunted lightly when his heavy arms dropped over both yours and Osferth's shoulders, his laugh still booming as he gave a squeeze and cooed, "Oh, congratulations, yah two love birds! Wasn't sure you had it innyah, boy!"

"Don't be so rough with her, Finan, for God's sake," Osferth scolded, nudging his friend to get out from under his arm.

"What?" Finan looked at you gobsmacked. "Sayin' I gotta treat yah different now or somethin'?"

"I didn't say that," you told him prettily with fluttering lashes, fist quickly balling up to jab him in the weak spot of his armor - making him grunt and wheeze. "Aht-aht!" You warned with a pointed finger when he flinched as if to retaliate, "Can't hit a pregnant woman."

"Oh, yeh li'l shite," Finan laughed, Osferth pushing him towards his wife so he could stand in front of you and command all attention.

Osferth took a moment to simply look at you; thumbs gently tracing over your cheeks in sweeping motions, a slow grin breaking across his lips. "This almost doesn't feel real... But how I have to praise God for this blessing. A baby," he breathed.

"A little you and me," you agreed softly. "Sound okay to you?"

"More than okay," he chuckled, pecking your lips, "sounds like a lifetime together."

"Good by me." His nose nuzzled up yours, the sweet moment broken when he sighed sadly; eyes shut and smile dropping. "What is it? What's wrong, love?" You asked, stepping into his embrace so you were nuzzled into his neck and his arms were wrapped around your form in a vice.

"Uhtred means to move us again," he whispered in your ear. "Brida, she... She's got Father Pyrlig, and - "

"What!?" You snapped, rearing back slightly to pin him under your hardened glare. Pregnancy hormones would surely give Osferth whiplash.

"My love, I did not - "

"Brida's got Pyrlig? Fuck are we standin' here for, let's go!" You reached for his hand, ready to march off.

"Uh, no, no, no, no," he pulled you back to him; anchoring his hands on your hips so you could not escape. "You are not going anywhere. Not now - especially now," he glanced at your still-growing bump. "The men will go, you know we will return, but you have this new responsibility, and that's keeping this little one safe. For us," he smiled at you.

You huffed, "I'm not unfit to do what needs done, Osferth."

"I did not say you were unfit, but look at the timing of it," he frowned. "I should've been here when you learned, but I was not, and I am truly so sorry for it. Look, I do not know how long this venture will be, but you know I will return. We've waited for our family for far too long, I will not jeopardize this - so I will return. If you go with us, and something were to happen," he shook his head, "my angel, I would never forgive myself. So I need you to stay here, stay safe, if for nothing else but for me."

"But Pyrlig - "

"Will be saved," he assured.

"And Brida - "

"Will be dealt with," he eased, chuckling lightly. "My angel, you worry too much about everyone and yet never about yourself."

You pouted, "Well, why is it just me meant to stay back? This is your child, too, Osferth, and should have the right to meet them! You can't always control what happens, accidents are real, what if you don't return - "

"Don't think like that - "

"But it's a real threat to us - "

He agreed, "Of course, but - "

"Yeah, I know," you nodded, cutting him off, "we serve Lord Uhtred. This comes first, and I'm not - "

"I've made a vow to him."

"You made one to me, too, you know."

"Angel, please, don't do this. Do not ask me to choose," he begged with a frown, and you caved.

So, with a sigh, you nuzzled into his embrace and relented, "All right, yes, fine, go after Brida and Pyrlig. And when you find them, tell him I am waiting for his safe return, he is dearly missed. Ideally, I'd have him birth our child."

"Of course," he breathed, finding a small reprieve of relief that you did not fight him further about leaving - about choosing which vow to fulfill: the one to his Lord Uhtred or the one to his wife.

Both made to God.

Luckily, Osferth married his best friend and you were never one to pick fights with him. You liked the harmony you had; the peaceful environment you had both cultivated to preserve the trust and love you built through the years. He was genuinely one of a kind; a man who walked many lines between faith, humanity, right, wrong. He was the voice of reason, constantly striving to do better than he did before, learning all he could as if a rag soaking in water. For all he was, Osferth has always been enough for you, and for that reason alone, you never felt the need to argue.

To fight. To voice contempt.

"Question," you perked up, smirking at him as your pregnancy symptoms ran a little wild, "think we've time to, you know, really give our thanks?"

"Angel - "

"What?" You grinned. "You fucked me on the alter all those weeks ago and look - your seed stuck. We might as well go give thanks in the same manner, just to really show God how thankful we are for this blessing he's given us."

"Think the Devil's gotten into you," he laughed.

"Or your child is ruining my hormones," you countered, his lips meeting yours in another passionate display of his excitement.

"C'mon," he whispered, taking your hand, and leading you to the chapel - thinking you were being sneaky, but your matching giggles made Ingrith and Finan beam at each other.

"He does know she can't get more pregnant, right?" Finan teased, flinching when Ingrith smacked his upper arm.

"WHY!?"

"My angel, please - "

"What the fuck is going on, Osferth!?"

"I'm trying to explain - "

"The Queen? The fucking Queen is dead in our village! How can that possibly be explained!?" When Osferth didn't answer, just sat in the wooden chair before the shared hearth of your humble home, you snapped, "Well!?"

"Are you finished? May I speak now?"

With a huff, you nodded and gestured for him to speak; arms crossing around your swollen tits. He explained to you the reason for Haesten's arrival, the wagon his men toted, and why he brought the Queen's dead body to the settlement of Rumcofa. He told you Haesten wanted to keep the peace when King Edward found out, claiming Uhtred's son-in-law, Stiorra's husband, Sigtryggr, had ordered this death - thinking war would surely roll over his lands.

You never knew Haesten to be a generous man, nor much of an honest one, but it seemed the severity of the situation made everyone eerily on-edge. Uhtred dispatched his men; leaving Finan and Osferth in the village with you, developing a plan that would save both Saxon and Danish life. And yet, it was all futile when evil forces worked against good.

You didn't feel safe in Rumcofa anymore, there was a stench in the air; tension that mounted to embrace all residents with discomfort. Something was about to happen, but nobody knew what. You didn't claim or pretend to know what was happening, but Haesten's abrupt appearance spelled danger for everyone involved. So, as a security measure, you kept a long sword buckled around your swelling waist and a dagger strapped under your skirts. With Lord Uhtred gone, there was no invisible fence protecting Rumcofa - leaving it up to you, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf to pose as guard.

Yet you'd never be enough.

Like the surf over sand, a group of angered men descended on Rumcofa. "Who's men are yah?" Finan asked, you lingering at Osferth's side to watch the interaction from a short distance.

"We come from the King," a burly Saxon replied, your head cocking in interest - swearing you've seen him before. "Dane murderers are hiding here and you must hand them over."

"You're mistaken, sir," you kindly offered, the man's eyes shifting over you, "because we live in peace. Any murderers have surely moved on from here. We do not host them."

The man growled, "Don't think that's true, love."

Finan held a hand back at you, meeting your eyes and nodding simply. He turned back for the man in fur, diverting, "Of course, my men will attend to it."

Finan turned from the group, his eyes connecting with yours as he passed by. There was urgency, a quickened pace he adopted; having no intention to hand anyone over, wanting to remove these men without bloodshed. However, that was a distant thought because Father Benedict tried to assure the Saxon leader that nobody in Rumcofa would murder Queen Aelflaed.

You wanted to step in when the Saxon evidently didn't know about the Queen's demise - getting in Benedict's face and demanding to see what he spoke of.

"No, no, no," you muttered nervously, "he can't see the body, love, no, no, no, this is bad. Very bad."

"We can't stop Father Benedict without altercation," Osferth whispered back, keeping a tight hold of your hand, just watching the group. "If something happens, you need to get yourself safe."

"How do we truly know they're from Edward? What credentials do they have?" When Osferth shook his head, you worried, "Got a bad feeling 'bout this, angel."

Then the violence began.

The strange men took charge when their leader walked away, starting to physically harass the citizens; making both you and Osferth step in to try and diffuse the tension. You pushed men off unarmed women, got in between them and the children, did what you could without drawing a weapon.

When a man shoved you away from him, Finan wrangled him away, sneering, "Get yer hands off of her!" He kept the violent men at bay for a moment, telling you, "You need to go, darling - "

"Not now, Fin, look around us! We need to contain the situation, you'll need all hands you can get," You snapped, the two of you forced to part way.

Osferth panted nervously and looked left and right, turning to meet the Saxon and demand, "Tell your men to stand down!" But then, his eyes squinted when you joined his side to pull him back a step or two, recognizing him just as you did.

"I don't think they're here for the Queen, love," you heaved for breath in warning, still backing him up. "They've planned this."

"Finan!" Osferth barked, "These men have been here before!"

The Saxon roared over the fray, "Danes of Rumcofa have murdered our Queen!" His men jeered in anger, making Finan brandish both swords and for Osferth to push you back further from the attention. "Do your duty and rid the cockles from the wheat!"

You were left no choice. Osferth and you both armed yourselves, starting to fight off the Saxons as their leader demanded Danes and Christians be separated. You were unable to help, engaged in battle, but Young Uhtred gathered the Danes and begged Father Benedict to declare the church a sanctuary - thinking it would save lives.

It was only leading the Danes to slaughter.

The Saxon, Bresal, punched Father Benedict when he tried to stand in the way; his men holding Young Uhtred in the doorway to let their men enter the church the Danes were gathered in. They forced Young Uhtred to watch the massacre - men, women, and Danish children all slaughtered with no escape. No hope. No answer to a single prayer. Nobody to stop this bloody situation.

You fought on, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf doing their best to protect you by keeping you in the middle of their wee group. But you still got plenty of action.

"This is madness!" You cried out, slicing a man's throat open. "We need aid! We need more men!"

"This way!" Finan encouraged, "We must cut a path for Ingrith! Check the docks! Check the docks!"

You and Osferth ran towards the water, Cynleaf not far away. You searched for Ingrith, but you had no time to linger; engaged one-on-one again, forced to protect yourself and unborn baby. Not a minute later, you saw Ingrith on horseback, being stalled by a Saxon and for your husband to rush to her aid. He punched the man away from the horse, you hacking at another enemy, in time to see Osferth engaging with two Saxons - one being the leader, Bresal.

It all happened so fast.

You were already racing towards them when the unexpected. Osferth was battling on two fronts, holding Bresal at bay, fending off the other Saxon, screaming for Ingrith, who only managed a few paces before the Saxon's dogs spooked her horse. The noise was deafening; people screaming, crying, dogs barking, horses whinnying, swords singing as they clashed.

You watched it happen in slow motion.

You sprinted faster than ever before.

"INGRITH!" Osferth bellowed in worry when her horse reared back and dropped her to the dirt. It left an opening for Bresal to stab his dagger into Osferth's lung - freezing time and wrecking your world.

"NO!" You screamed, Bresal smirking at you and yanking his dagger free. Osferth wobbled, eyes wide as he met yours, the Saxon walking away as Osferth dropped to his knees. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Oh, God, no, no, you can't take him - not yet! Please, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," You repeated, sliding on your knees in the dirt to catch him. "No, no, oh, my God, no, Osferth, no, please! Not now, not now, please, no, God, no! Don't do this! Please, please, please," you rambled, readjusting to better hold him, hearing Cynleaf and Finan yell for Baby Monk, too. You raged at God, "You can't take him yet! You can't have him! He's mine!"

But you heard nothing except your husband's labored breathing.

"An-Angel, angel, my angel," Osferth choked, wheezing and crying as he couldn't hold himself up and completely slumped back into your body. He pawed at your arms in an attempt to get closer.

"No, no, no, you're all right, you're okay, you're okay, my sweet love, you're all right," you insisted, hands stained in his blood as it poured from his wound. You knew it was essential to add pressure to a wound, but also, that this was all futile. Yet you needed to try. "Hey, hey, hey, look at me, just look at me, sweetheart, please, only look at me, nothing else matters," you pleaded with him in a rush, the lads sprinting to where you held your husband to your lap.

Nobody interrupted you.

"Where's the wound?" Osferth sobbed, trembling, blood spurting from his mouth; going paler by the minute. "Angel, please, the wound? Where's the wound?"

"No, no, no, don't worry 'bout that, hey? Don't you worry, you just keep looking at me," you sobbed, holding his neck and cradling him to your swollen belly. "Just at me, my love, okay? Just look at me - don't look anywhere else, okay? Nothing else matters."

"H-How bad? How ba-ba-bad-bad is i-it?"

"You're going to be all right," you lied to Osferth for the first time.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God," Osferth repeated through his tears and fears, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

He held onto you desperately, sobbing, you slowly rocking. "No, you're all right, Osferth, it's okay, just look at me." You caressed his cheek, smearing blood, but locking eyes. "My love," you whispered, "listen to me - "

"I don't wanna die, please, please, angel, my love, please," he coughed, holding your arm tightly as if it would give him life. "Don't let me die," he wheezed, "don't let me die, my love, please, please. Don't let me die, I don't wanna die. I-I wanna meet our baby, please, I want to meet our baby, I want to be a father. Don't let me die, love, please, I-I wanna be your husband longer - "

"You'll never not be my husband and you'll never not be a father, hear me?" You sniffled, trying to smile at him. "Don't you worry, you're gonna be okay, you're okay, Osferth. You'll always be my husband, nothing will change that - I swear."

Blood pumped with each beat of his frantic heart, making it gush over your fingers. You didn't even feel it.

"Please," he choked, more blood bubbling from his lips, "don't let me die, I don't wanna die. Don't let me die, please, not now, not when our baby isn't here yet, please, I just wanna meet 'em, be a family, I wanna stay with you, don't let me go. Please, don't let me go, I don't want t'go! Don't let me - "

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here with you. I'm right here, Osferth, you're not alone, you're never alone. I'm here. I've got you. I'll always have you, I won't ever let you go. Never."

He sobbed harder. "I don't wanna leave you. Please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be without you - " But the words choked him, a splatter spraying across your face when he coughed; you didn't even flinch.

"Listen to me," you begged, "I commend you, my dear, sweet husband, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator."

Finan was heard behind you, retching jarring sobs as you read Osferth his death rite prayer. "Don't let me die," Osferth begged still, as if you held that power.

He had always looked at you as if you hung the sun and stars, and now, as if you were his very reason for living. You hated God in that moment for forcing you two through this.

"May you return to Him who formed you from the dust of the earth. May Holy Mary, the angels," now, you choked on your words, emotion clawing your throat, but still continued, "and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you bring you freedom and peace." You sobbed, "May Christ who died for you admit you into His garden of paradise. May Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of His flock. May He forgive all your sins, and set you among those He has chosen. Amen. Please, please, say amen, Osferth, say it, please!"

"A-Amen - Amen!" He coughed, trying to get closer to you, nestling into your warmth as he felt impossibly cold. "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be alone. I can't go without you, please, don't let me go - don't let me die, angel, please, I can't go without you. I-I’ve never been without you my whole life, I don’t wish to start now. I love you. I-I love you, please, don't let me go, I love you. I need you."

"You'll never be without me," you promised, face coated in blood, grime, dirt, and ash; all streaked with your tear tracks. "You will always be my husband, hey? Hear me? You're always gonna be with me, I will never be apart from you. I'll love you forever, Osferth, I won't ever stop." You felt your chest cave in as you sobbed, "Please, don't you leave me - "

But Osferth was wheezing and panting, only staring up at you. "I only need you," he whimpered, "I've only ever needed you, I can't do this without you. Please, I can't - I can't go without you. I don't want to leave you, I can't leave you, please!'

"So don't leave me," you sobbed, him still clawing at you in desperation. "I love you more than life, Osferth, please, don't leave me, okay? Don't go. I love you so much. Being loved by you was my greatest pleasure in this life, I want our child to know your love, too, Osferth, please, don't go."

"I-I wanna meet our baby, I wanna hold 'em, love 'em," he repeated. "Please, this can't be the end, don't let this be the end. W-We have so much more - we were supposed to have eternity together, my love, my angel, please! This isn't the end, I can't - I can't go without you!"

"You're okay," you soothed uselessly, rocking more prominently. "Just stay with me, my love, okay? Stay with me. Don't go. Only look at me, all right? You hear me?" You sniffled, caressing his cheek. "You're the best thing in my life, Osferth, yeah? Understand me? Where you're going, y-you'll be welcomed a hero, with open arms. You'll be my own angel. My real angel. The reason I keep going for our child. An-And you'll stay there just for a little while until I join you, okay? You'll watch over us, me and the baby, right? Our own angel? Hey? 'Cause you'll never be part from us - you'll never be apart from me. You and I are a forever sorta thing, we'll never be apart, we'll always be part of each other no matter what."

Osferth lost his words, eyes widening and pulling you closer.

You just soothed, "I'm here with you, my love. I'm here, I've got you. You're not alone, I'm right here, I have you. I've got you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Osferth, okay? I love you more than anything, you're my everything. I love you," you sniffled, breaking down in worse sobs, repeating, "I love you, I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't faster, I love you, this shouldn't be happening. I'm so sorry, I should've come faster! I love you, I'm so sorry."

With his last breath, Osferth choked, "L-Love y-y-you."

"I love you," you hushed, bending at the waist to rest your forehead on his, "I love you so much. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be all right, you'll be safe - where you're going, you'll be safe. I'm so sorry, my love... I'm so sorry."

You felt him go still. You felt the last of his breath exhale, his body deflate. You felt his soul detach from his body.

You froze.

"Oh, my God," you breathed, pulling back to look down at his petrified features. "Oh, my God, no, no, no. God, please, please, give him back," you sobbed, "give him back to me! Do not take him! It's not his time, you selfish cunt! Give him back! It wasn't supposed to end like this! Give him back to me, please! Please! This isn't how this was supposed to happen! We promised eternity together, please! Let us have that! Let us be together, give him back to me! I need him!"

Your shrill hysterics were heard all over Rumcofa.

Finan sobbed into his wife's arms behind you, Cynleaf knelt to slowly extend his hand onto your shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he offered, but you pushed him away harshly; knocking him into the dirt.

"No! I don't want your fucking condolences!" You snapped, holding Osferth tighter, "I want my husband! I want my husband back! Can you give him to me? Can you, Cynleaf? Can you give him back to me!?"

"No - "

"Then you have nothing to offer me! I want nothing else, nothing from you! I only want him!" You looked away from the young lad, finding Osferth's wide open eyes staring up at you. You whimpered, "I only need him, so, please. Please, give him back to me. Please. I need him, I need him, I can't do this without him, please, God, don't do this. You take so many lives, why add him to the mix!? Give him back! C'mon," you begged the cooling body, "c'mon, love, get up. Get up for me, please, just wake up. Come back to me, get up... Get up, Osferth, get up! Please! WAKE UP!"

But Osferth never moved. Never blinked. Never drew breath. And God never answered your pleas. Your dress was saturated in your husband's blood; a pooling puddle seeping into your knees, bodice drenched, his baby moving in your belly. You wailed into the still air, holding your husband tight to your chest; mouth agape to release the terrible screams of anguish, tears never ending, rocking on your knees. You didn't know what to feel... But devastation was prominent.

You wept until your throat went raw, jaw tender from your open mouth. "I'm so sorry!" You repeated, "I should've been quicker! I should've been at your side! You shouldn't have been alone! This is my fault! This is all my fault, I shouldn't have been away from you. I should've been with you, you did not deserve this end. Please! Forgive me, wherever you are, forgive me, I did not intend for this, I shouldn't have left you, I should've been at your side, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"No," Ingrith whispered, "no, do not say this is your fault, you did nothing - "

"Exactly!" You snapped at her, eyes ablaze, her husband silent. "I did nothing, I wasn't with him! I wasn't where I was supposed to be! And he was stabbed because of you!"

Finan whispered your name in reprimand.

"No! How many times have you rode a fucking horse, Ingrith!? And now, today, the time it truly matters, you fall; you posed distraction," you sobbed, crumpling in on yourself. "He was distracted by your fall... This shouldn't've happened, this is all wrong!"

The trio just watched you, knowing your emotions were raw and unwavering, that your words did not have meaning because your husband had just died in your arms. Hours passed, you did not move. Hours passed, your husband did not return. Hours passed, and your heart shattered with each passing breath you selfishly drew.

Because living felt selfish now without Osferth.

"Sweet one," Finan whispered, the sun setting, "we should move him. Bring him to the church so Benedict can pray."

Your head shook, "No."

"Darlin', we have to - "

"No," you whimpered, "because if you take him to Benedict, it's real. If we move, he's truly gone... He can't be gone, Finan," you sobbed, meeting your friend's eyes. "If you move him, he's gone, I'm not ready to say goodbye, please. Please, don't take him from me."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "but he should be laid to rest."

"Don't take him from me," you begged, a new wave of tears starting. "I just - we were supposed to be a family. We were supposed to have this baby, and now, it's just me? This cannot be, so please, don't take him from me, I only need him back. Give him back to me, Finan, please, I can't be without him."

"I know," he nodded, gently encouraging you into his embrace. It meant you had to let go of Osferth, something you did slowly and gradually, leaning into the Irishman's chest. "All right, I got yah," he whispered, looking to his wife. "C'mon, stand with Ingrith. I'll carry him."

"Be gentle," you sobbed, feeling Ingrith grip your arms to help heave you to your feet; watching Finan scoop Osferth over his shoulder. The change of position made more blood splatter to the dirt, your heart stalling in your chest when you heard the mess.

You felt your soul shriveled and hidden somewhere deep in your chest, following as if in a trance. You watched Finan and Cynleaf slowly lower Osferth to the ground with the other dead Danes, feeling yourself drop to the ground in shock.

Seeing Osferth amongst the dead made it so much more real.

"It's all my fault," you sobbed, Finan moving to your side, "it's all my fault, I got him killed. I should've been quicker. This is my fault, my fault, I did this, 's my fault."

Finan knelt beside you, bringing your foreheads together to hold you tightly and let you sob into his embrace. "You didn't do this," he promised, "you did nothing wrong. You are not at fault. Do not carry this guilt."

You sobbed without reprieve.

Young Uhtred halted Father Benedict from praying over the Danes, telling the older man they had different customs, but looked back at you. He asked your name softly, wondering, "Do you wish for a prayer for... Him?"

Even Young Uhtred couldn't stomach the truth, avoiding using Osferth's name out of sheer disbelief.

"That'd be nice," Finan agreed, turning to sit beside you and hold you under his arm. You leaned into his embrace, head to his shoulder. "She read him his death rites when... It happened."

Young Uhtred nodded, bowing his head, leading, "Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, On earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Then, you joined from under Finan's heavy arm, sobbing through your words, "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death."

Benedict finished, "Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end."

Together, you, Ingrith, Young Uhtred, Benedict, Finan, and even Cynleaf ended, "Amen."

Feeling the most level-headed, Ingrith stepped in and directed the men; informing that Young Uhtred should lead the remaining Danes to Daneland, Finan and Cynleaf would meet Uhtred on the road, and she would accompany you to Wessex - where Osferth could be laid to rest at the place of his birth. Then, the people mourned together for their fallen.

Finan disagreed initially, telling his wife you were his responsibility now that Osferth was passed. But there was no way you could continue with the company, not in your pregnant state. Finan didn't like the idea of you being without him, considering you close to a sister; something of a best mate, someone he couldn't turn his back on - no matter the situation. However, he understood the predicament and finally agreed to part ways, but not before he untied Osferth's crucifix and latched it around your neck. At the gates of Rumcofa, before separating, Finan gifted you his rosary; thinking it might bring comfort in his physical absence.

Years from then, you would bring up a single son named Gabriel (a name your husband favored, a name benefitting an Angel) under Lord Uhtred in his birthplace of Bebbanburg. You never remarried. You never even so much as looked after another man with lust. Gabriel would grow into a handsome warrior and a devoted man of God, satisfied on tales about his father; being painted as a man of honor, integrity, and bravery. Osferth, too, was a man of God, a man of the sword, and a man of his word... Until the very end. And when your time came, you were brought back to Wessex to be laid to rest with your husband; your son having a son, naming him Osferth, and knowing, both his parents shined down on him in pride.

It was a comfort for everyone to know, somewhere in the afterlife, in God's warmth, you and Osferth were reunited; looking just as you did the day you parted from one another.

requesting rules and masterlist

[tealclover]

This Way Out

So, Tails slipped up. Not only did he manage to get himself snagged, but he dragged Belle into this with him. To make matters worse, Starline was unbearably smug about the whole thing. Yeah, yeah, he got the Sonic the Hedgehog’s sidekick. Whoop-de-friggin-doo.

Just when Tails was starting to prove himself again. Ugh. How embarrassing. 

Well, enough of that. He promised Sonic he’d be fine, and he intended to keep his word. All he had to do was find a way to get Belle and himself out safely. … But who exactly were those two Mobians hanging around the facility?

(Alternate ending to Sonic IDW Issue #36, featuring a snarky fox. Some mild angst.)

Even before fully regaining consciousness, Tails knew he was in for a headache. And not just literally, though the pulsing in his temple was certainly noteworthy.

For starters, before even opening his eyes, he was lying stiffly on his back of all places. Tails never slept on his back if he could help it – his namesakes made resting much more reasonable on his side or belly. Sleeping on his tails was both uncomfortable and impractical. Impractical because it left his belly and other more vulnerable parts exposed. Uncomfortable due to the cold and the fact that his namesakes trapped underneath him, occasionally numb from lack of bloodflow. Which they were. But so were his arms and his legs, and, oh, he couldn’t move at all actually. 

It was probably too much to hope that that beeping indicated that he’d spent the last fifteen hours on a stone-hard hospital bed, seeing how his last waking recollection involved him and Belle separating, tons of snow, and…

Starline. Who wanted to kidnap him. For supposedly scientific purposes.

Ugh.

With no small amount of trepidation, the fox bleerily opened his eyes. He was immediately rewarded for his efforts with too much light why couldn’t he live like the nocturnal creatures foxes were meant to be and a sinister chuckle that grated on his nerves.

“Ah, Young Master Prower. I see you are awake.”

Yup. And he wished he wasn’t.

“Starline.” Oof. Voice crack. That wasn’t doing his credibility any favors. How long had he been out? He coughed, trying to get his voice back before roughly continuing: “I hope you’ve got a five star meal on the way; otherwise I’m going to have to give this stay a poor review. Don’t tell me this is a hospital bed,” he grimaced at the surface he was strapped to, arms, tails, and all. He was trapped for the time being, but appeared to be intact, at least. If the bindings were ignored, he could have passed for a patient – the presence of the finger pulse oximeter amongst other diagnostic tools were certainly intriguing, if not concerning. Were those vials of blood his? “Or do. Cause I’m not sure there’s much I can do for you if you think it’s acceptable to let your guests sleep on tables.”

The platypus stared at him for a few seconds, like he hadn’t expected the witty response. It was actually kind of funny to watch him visibly reboot and reassess the fox. Finally, he sighed. “I suppose you were raised by Sonic. It makes sense that you would share his poor taste in humor.”

“It clearly beats your taste in decor,” Tails sniped back. Starline hummed at that.

“Public perception of you paints you to be a polite boy genius. It seems that isn’t entirely true.”

Tails shrugged. Or tried to, anyway. “The general population wouldn’t consider strapping me to an examination table. Care to explain that, by the way?”

Starline smiled a sweet-sick smile. “Oh, you’re curious, are you? To be quite frank, I want to see if you can find out. Why don’t you and Miss Belle take a moment to catch up?”

Tails froze. “Belle?”

“I'm here, Tails…” the voice came from his left. He peered over as far as he could to see the robotic marionette on a second table a short distance away. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, but from what he could see of her… she looked distraught. Not fearful, necessarily, but despairing, which was somehow even more worrisome. 

“Belle, are you okay?” He asked gently. She sniffled, ducking her head into her chest as best as she could. Were those… tear tracks on her cheeks? She could cry? Why was she crying? He took a second to shoot a gleeful Starline a sharp glare before refocusing on his newest companion. “Belle, are you hurt?” 

“... No,” she whispered.

Tails didn’t know if he believed that, but he didn’t know how to press the issue with the correct amount of sensitivity, especially with Starline hovering over them. What a creep. Couldn’t he leave? “Okay… okay. It’s going to be alright, I promise.” He waited for Belle’s tiny nod before continuing. “How long have you been active?”

“About… twenty minutes. I’ve been offline s-since the avalanche. I… I’m sorry, Tails. You came back for me and now-”

“I’m not worried about that, Belle,” he told her, firmly but not unkindly. “We’ll figure it out. Can you tell me what you remember?”

“I…” She made a strangled sound, but forced herself to continue. “My d-d… my creator was Mr. Tinker.” Tails gut sank. He wasn’t surprised, not with their matching attire, but it was still a sad confirmation to hear. “That… that jerk figured it out. He, he told me-” she hiccuped again. “It’s his fault Mr. Tinker is gone. He changed him into Eggman.”

“... I’m sorry, Belle.” What could he say to that? This wasn’t something he could fix with a wrench and a bit of mechanical know-how. Belle was a robot, but her feelings were hardly artificial. After Emerl, Gamma, and their successors, Tails was very well aware of that. She was just as much of a person as anyone organic; something that was clear to him from the moment they met. He couldn’t just reprogram her to feel better. Or, well, maybe he could, but that wouldn’t be right. To do so would likely be robbing her memories and cheapening her experiences, changing who she was in the process. It wouldn’t truly fix anything; frankly, it would likely lead to an identity crisis later on.

And so, all he had to offer her was kindness, and time to recover once they escaped.

“I… don’t know how to help with Mr. Tinker, but my friends and I would be happy to have you, if you want. I have space for you back at my workshop, and the Restoration accepts anyone who wants to to have a part of it. If you want a home, we’ll give you one. We can try to figure out the rest in time.”

Belle was quiet. Finally, she tearfully confessed, “That would be nice.”

He offered her a smile even though she still wasn’t looking. “I’m glad you think so. We’ll do our best to make it worth your while.” He hesitantly continued. “Did Starline do anything else?”

She shook her head. “He just… listened to me talk a-about Dad. About home, Windmill Village, and how the villagers kicked me out after the Metal Virus cleared up. I got so mad, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He doesn’t care at all about what he did. He only wanted the code.”

“Code…?” At that, Tails shot another glance in their captor’s direction, though the platypus had since turned his attention to the monitor at Tails’ side, turned so that the fox couldn’t read any of the details. Were Belle’s readings stashed away in that device? … No. At least, it wasn’t just her information. Starline was gathering his vitals as well. But why? From the sounds of things, he was trying to get a reaction out of Belle earlier, and now, he was… testing Tails? Did he truly want him to uncover the motivations behind their kidnappings or was he simply fishing for another set of reactions from a different subject? He wouldn’t put it past Starline to have something of a sadistic streak – most villains lately did – but not one without purpose. If that was all he did, there had to have been some sort of incentive, something to be gained…

Why him? Why Belle? Her thoughts and feelings, and his-

Was he trying to record them both?

Was Starline in his head right now? 

A delighted laugh at his side told him that yes, he probably was.

“Positively remarkable, young Master Prower! You are truly one of a kind.” The platypus’ hands clapped together. “It is no wonder Sonic has prevailed for so long! He is powerful on his own, but you, you can keep pace with him, you adapt to his spontaneity and can plan in the heat of the moment so that he is successful in his every endeavor, no matter how foolish or impossible.  It is little wonder that the two of you alone keep Doctor Eggman on his toes, despite his armies, his keen intellect, and his prowess…” He stood to approach Tails again, looking down upon him with glee. “You truly are the greatest of combinations.”

That would have been a heart-warming compliment, had it not come from the mouth of a madman. As it stood, the fox had to resist the urge to squirm under that predatory gaze. He would not give Belle another reason to be afraid. 

“And, in spite of knowing all of that,” Tails mildly remarked, “you brought me straight to your base.”

Starline was likely to overestimate himself. In his eyes, he had a useful enemy at his mercy. He was less likely to seriously consider the fact that, in the process, he had invited that very foe into his base, to say nothing of the others that would come knocking down his door later.

… Let him read those thoughts.

“Is that a threat?” The doctor mockingly inquired, unfazed and clearly quite confident. “You hardly have the advantage, fox.”

“I've gotten out of stickier situations.” This wasn't even the first time somebody thought to make a labrat of him, his first encounter with the Deadly Six coming to mind. … Hopefully, this wasn't going to become a trend. 

“Perhaps, but I've taken precautions. Escape won't come easily for you.” The villain adjusted his glove with a self-assured smirk. “You are now quite the valuable asset to my plans.”

“Which are…?” Tails pressed, earning him a condescending pat on the head that made his skin crawl.

“All in due time, little specimen. As it stands, I've already shared too much with you, and I really must get back to work. You have such fascinating insights; it’s a pity we won’t be discussing this further, seeing how you will have no recollection of this conversation,” he coolly lamented, hand shifting from his bangs to his eyes.

“Now, it is time for you to go back to sleep.”

So... yup! Here's a glimpse of a brainworm I've had for a little while regarding Issue #36. It's a little rough and is absolutely a WIP (the end is particularly prone to change), but I felt like sharing a bit of it! Hope whoever finds it likes it! :)

[bee-saucee]

Hellooo, this is the first time I've done one of these, but I've enjoyed your writing a bunch so I thought I'd give it a try. What kind of couple rituals does Shinkami take part in? For example, ones that they know know that they do, like a kiss before work. And ones that they don't realize, such as who sleeps on what side of the bed? Oh-and Happy New Year in advance 🥳💜

ShinKami Couple Rituals | Headcanons/Oneshot

summary: ShinKami ritual headcanons and a glimpse into their morning routine on a day off

word count: 917

warnings: Kissing and cursing

a/n: This is my first request on Tumblr and I am so so grateful! Your interaction has been so meaningful to me recently! I appreciate you tons. Happy New Year to you as well! It was fun thinking and writing about things I haven’t before so if anyone else has requests I would be so honored! I’ve got some headcanons and a short fic for you. There isn’t much plot but sometimes you just need some good fluff. I hope you enjoy and that I've done this right.

Headcanons

Rituals they're aware of

I think ShinKami are definitely a kiss before they leave for work type of couple! I’m big on ShinKami having schedules that don’t match up at all person but Shinsou was adamant about Denki waking him up to kiss him goodbye when they first started living together. They usually eat dinner together before Shinsou leaves for work so they always share a kiss before he goes. Just a kiss might be an understatement, fervent makeout is probably what it usually turns into before Shinsou is rushing out the door so he isn’t late for work

This is more of a tradition than a ritual but I think ShinKami is really big on holiday traditions, even for the small ones like Talk Like A Pirate Day

Because they usually aren’t together at the start and end of their days together, ShinKami is big on morning and nighttime texts

Rituals they aren't aware of

They just kind of fell into Shinsou on the left side of the bed and Kaminari on the right. Denki tends to roll over on top of Shinsou while he sleeps, though so it doesn’t mean too much

When they’re out in public, Denki tends to wrap his arm around Shinsou’s waist if they’re standing still. He knows that Shinsou can get nervous and subconsciously tries to pull him in closer and protect him

They always let one another try their drink. They love going to cafes together and trying out drinks at restaurants and to them it’s just straight up rude not to share with one another

They pick up each other’s speaking habits rapidly and use them all the time

Oneshot

Kaminari blinks his eyes open and is met with the sight of his boyfriend’s deep eye bags illuminated by his phone. His hair bends at awkward angles in a tangled mess that he knows only comes from a fitful night of sleep.

“Mm, how long have you been awake, honey bear?” Denki asks, scootching in closer to his boyfriend.

“Couple hours.”

Hitoshi places a soft kiss on Denki’s forehead and he closes his eyes. He can feel the warmth of Hitoshi just a little bit better now. The rise and fall of his chest feels more prominent. The soft rustle of breath falling from his nose and drawing back in is loud in the quiet of a rare day off together.

“We should shower,” Denki mumbles.

“Uhuh.”

A beat passes as neither of them moves. Fuck he loves his boyfriend. Hitoshi pulls Denki up so he’s resting right on top of him chest to chest. Did he mention how much he loves his boyfriend?

“You have sleep in your eyes,” Hitoshi says.

“I slept good, dude. Makes sense. Sorry–I know you didn’t sleep well.”

“I never sleep well. It’s okay.”

Denki keeps his eyes closed and Hitoshi softly brushes the sleep from the corners of his eyes. He’d probably get an eye infection or break out from it someday but Hitoshi craved these moments of affection they probably shouldn’t have after a long week of work and Denki was more than happy to oblige. He finally cracks his eyes open and is met with that adorable smile that’s new enough for Hitoshi to not have smile lines. Cementing those lines on Hitoshi’s face was currently the closest thing Denki has to a life mission.

“Hey, you little cutie patootie. You come here often?” Denki says with an exaggerated wink.

“Plenty.”

“I’m going to the mall today with Mina and Kiri. You wanna come? No pressure.”

Hitoshi pulls him in for a quick peck. He really wanted to slob his boyfriend down bad and nasty but now with morning breath was probably not the best time.

“Nah. I wanted to get some reading done today.”

The rejection still stings a bit but with time, he’s getting used to taking that hit for Hitoshi. The strong confirmation that Hitoshi missed him and loves him the moment he gets back from time out more than makes up for it.

“No problem my little love muffin,” Denki says, punctuating it with another peck. “Alright!” He slaps Hitoshi’s bare chest. “It’s shower time for real!”

They begin their usual dance around Hitoshi’s small apartment. Switch between brushing teeth and a morning piss. Convene with a long chat about their day or whatever book Hitoshi has been reading as they shower together. Denki lingers to finish his 12 step skincare routine while Hitoshi shuffles to the kitchen to make his first cup of coffee and start the day off special: mini sausage cut into octopi, fried egg, toast, salad, and apple juice.

Denki bites off one of the tentacles. “Yo, Toshi Woshi.” He taps his feet against Hitoshi’s shins under the table

“Mhm?”

“I like mornings with you.”

Hitoshi turns to fully face him and that smile gets just a little bit closer to developing lines. “Me too, baby.”

“I GOT A HITOSTINO PET NAME,” Denki shouts, almost dropping his mini sausage.

“Don’t do the octopus like that.”

“It’s a necessary sacrifice to show my ass clenching enthusiasm to my lover.”

Hitoshi scrunches up his face. “That makes me sound like some torrid affair.”

“You’re right. My first love is this fried egg. Then L from Death Note. Then you.”

“That’s fair. I’ll take it. At least the affair is torrid.”

“I would never have some vanilla affair with you my sweet pea pod.”

“Damn straight.”

Denki gasps. “We’re gay, Toshi!”

“My bad, my bad. Damn gay.”

Thanks for reading! Check out my masterlist for more.

[kickthecan-revolution]

Round 4 infusion day:

I started the day very anxious, a colleague of mine reached out and let me know that she was also in treatment and it turned out that it’s my same exact cancer.

Some of the things that she said triggered a lot of questions for me, it was hard to go to sleep. My initial heart rate in the first lab was really elevated and they were slightly concerned, and then it got even more elevated as I sat in the chair. I was asking the staff and my doctor a ton of questions but I wasn’t listening to the answers, I was just talking over them.

R gently observed that I was in a lot of anxiety and it was likely because I had inadvertently violated my boundary of not wanting to know much about my type of cancer and that I would only ask questions and get information from my doctor. My colleague was obviously very well intended but it turned out to trigger a lot of anxiety that showed up physically for me today. It was just such an insightful observation and I know it’s going to lead to some important shadow work.

My physical experience during the infusion was also different today, I had some pain, the cold capping was hard, I was very dizzy and absolutely exhausted. I basically slept for four or five hours straight, I would wake up for Cold Capping but would almost fell asleep in the middle of it.

When I finally woke up, R showed me some pictures that she had taken and we absolutely died laughing, the kind of belly laughing that sears into your memory. So much so that the nurses came in to see what was so funny and they said how amazing it was to hear so much fun and joy in a place that’s so hard.

We ended up sending the picture to the head of Retail Into a few others and just left even harder. Our dark humor got dark, just the way I like it. The “You Shall Not Pass….literally” was the cherry on top of the sundae.

We finally got home, ordered some food for dinner and then she helped me arrange my furniture - when you walk into her house, it’s immediately beautiful, comfortable and pragmatic all at the same time, and she also has three cats so she knows what it means to be a cat lady. I wanted to use some of that expertise and so asked her if she had any ideas and we ended up changing so much – it made me emotional, I love it so much. We also bought a couple of really beautiful plants the day before to bring some color and life, some good additions to all of the white in here. I can’t wait for them to get here tomorrow.

All the sudden I had to go to bed, I got pretty tired again. I hugged her for a really long time and told her a grateful I am that someone who loves others so well – better than anyone I know - is in my life. It’s an example to me of love and grace I don’t deserve but I am so thankful that I have it. How she makes me a better human being.

It was a lot for her to go through today, people who love us who have to see us vulnerable, in pain can suffer - there was a lot she didn’t expect. But she did it and she still made me laugh. What a friend. 

[thisisarcanereverie]

Cutting Ties (DARK! Moon Knight x Reader) Part 3

A/N: I know, I'm back from the dead (shocker) I'm so sorry about the lengthy delay but here it is! This is Part 3 of a 3 Part fic. (Here is Part 2!) This is also a dark fic so please DNI Minors and others.

Now if you can interact or want to, please do! Like, reblog, reply!

DISCLAIMERS/WARNINGS: kidnapping, angst (like a ridiculous amount of it), light cursing, slight suggestive content, I've never been to London or England in general so I'm going based off of what I've seen, I am also not responsible for your content consumption please be advised that this is a dark story with triggering elements, viewer discretion advised. English is my first language I just suck at it. No beta, we die like men! I do not own the picture above but i DO own the header below, it's something that I made. I might make a few others idk. Enjoy!

Summary: You're a former Widow on the run, only in London for a year you meet Steven Grant, a goofy gift shoppist. But is there more that meets the eye?

Weeks passed. 

You had begun to notice a pattern, similar to the one they had before, one day it would be Marc who woke you up with turkey bacon and eggs and slept by you with your hands in his hair and then Steven would take his place the next day with oatmeal with fruit in it in the morning and smothering you at night. The only difference was that Jake had yet to show himself since the night he brought you here. 

A small part of you was grateful for that but the larger (angrier) part of you wanted to see him again, if only to scream at him. However, you had to play this right, you had been working on both Marc and Steven on going to the doctor. You were careful, you knew if they said the wrong thing they wouldn’t go, so you played the part of loyal and dutiful girlfriend each day with a smile on your face and a calm, nurturing voice. Even your words were carefully thought out and rehearsed in advance, every time you mentioned the doctor you didn’t use isolating words like “you” and “me” or “I” instead using words that resembled unity and empathy (something they both had lacked in their childhood) such as “we” and “us”. With every sugared word you swallowed bile and chewed every insult into the insides of your cheeks. The Red Room was a vile place and you resent it with all that you are, but as you find yourself in this situation you couldn’t help but be thankful for their lessons in mental and emotional manipulation. Without them you don’t know what you would’ve done. 

However, as you lay there with Steven’s arm around your abdomen and your gaze fixed on the calendar that hung on the wall in front of you, you hope you can hang on another forty-eight hours, the day of the appointment. You purposely made it for a day. It would be Steven in charge of the body. He was easier swayed and manipulated than Marc. He would let you go with him to the appointment, he needs you at the appointment. You’re his angel, his love, you would hold his hand as he tells the doctor how badly he sleeps and as the doctor writes the prescription you’ll excuse yourself. It can’t be before the doctor writes the prescription, Steven will get nervous and start looking for you sooner rather than later, as the doctor writes the prescription however the appointment will essentially be over but not quite. He will have to sit there and get the prescription and go to check out where they will have him make another appointment for a check in with the doctor before finally having time to look for you in the stalls. It gives you thirty minutes give or take to escape the building without being detected and stealing a car to get to the next town over where you’ll call your ID guy. If the ID guy proves to be a bust you know Yelena was always on the lookout for ex-black widows and she might help you like Natasha did the last time you needed to disappear. The plan was complicated, sure, it required perfect timing and a shit ton of hope and luck, but it was all you had. You were no stranger to seducing, manipulating, and betraying. They were second nature to you, like a coat you’ve left in your closet for so long but it still fits like you've never abandoned it at all. Still though, you’ve never betrayed someone you had loved before, and the guilt at the thought of Steven’s confused and distraught face like the one he had at the apartment was almost enough to kill you. Steven was relatively innocent in all of this, this wasn’t his plan it was Jake’s. It wasn’t his fault that they shared a body. Still, freedom comes at a price and Steven, Marc, and Jake would never allow such a luxury. 

You find yourself slipping sometimes, finding yourself thinking it wouldn’t be so bad. That this life is exactly what you wanted to begin with, having your cake and eating it too. But you reminded yourself that this life was given to you without choice. That these men might love you in their own way, but all they want in the end is to possess you, to keep you whether it would be willingly or not, with chains or with vows. 

It was later than usual, you knew you needed to sleep. You need all the energy you can get, after escaping in a few days you will probably miss the bed seeing as you don’t know where you’ll be but in either case you doubt you’ll be sleeping with a quilt or a fluffy pillow for a while. You try to sleep, counting sheep proved fruitless and the warmth of Steven’s chest on your back caused your body temp to rise to an uncomfortable degree. But you tried to remain still, you’ve been under worse torture than restlessness and uncomfortable heat, you should be fine. 

…

You were wrong. 

Gently you tried to scoot away from him, hoping to catch some sort of reprieve to no avail. Tried extending your limbs to the cooler parts of your shared blanket in order to cool at least some part of you down but that only helped little, only one foot managed to break free from the too warm confines and that helped significantly but sleeping like that felt too weird (too many horror movies with Jake). You let out a little frustrated huff, your attempts to cool off were met with failure. You were so caught up in trying to cool off you failed to notice the slight stir in the man beside you until you felt his breath next to your ear. 

“Trying to escape again mi carissima?” 

Suddenly, you no longer felt the need to cool off. Instead chills ran down your spine as the urge to hurl crawled its way to your throat. Your body went stiff as you felt him move from your side to leave the bed. You avoided looking at him, the all too familiar feeling of fear and rage made you hesitant to gaze in his direction. You contemplated reaching towards the nearest object and throwing it in his direction. But you looked at the calendar instead, freedom was two days away, you can’t ruin it now by revealing your true feelings. So with a deep, shaking breath in you sat and mustered up all the love and tenderness you could as you gazed at him. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while lover,” you said affectionately as you imagined all sorts of violent, Taylor Swift worthy, things you would rather say to him, “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” you see him looking at you with apprehension, and what you could almost mistake for guilt. 

“I was giving you space,” he said as he changed out of his sweaty night shirt for a fresh one, your eyes lingered where his sleep pants hung on his hips. Damn, you had forgotten that while the man in front of you was certifiable, he was also hot as fuck, and that if he turned around you knew your eyes would follow south. You couldn’t help it, with hips and an ass like that how could you not look at it and go a little feral. 

“Well,” you cleared your throat a little, forcing your eyes to remain firmly on his face despite the almost magnetic force trying to pull your gaze downwards, “that was probably a wise idea.” 

“I thought I had to do this,” he says, Jake was never one to halfheartedly apologize when he doesn’t believe he should “for us.” 

“Still,” you said, hugging your knees to your chest, “don’t you think you should’ve brought it up with me? To give me a choice?”

“I’m giving you one now,” he said, eyes turning to you for the first time in weeks, “I wasn’t acting right before. I was angry and scared, you were going to abandon us like we didn’t matter. You weren’t even going to tell me the truth, you were going to leave that very night. I became rash, and crazy, and…” his eyes cast down towards the bunched up shirt in his hand, “I hurt you.” He tossed the soiled shirt into the laundry basket before turning his gaze back to you, “So I’ve been staying away, remaining a fly on the wall as I watched you with Steven and Marc. Punishing myself by seeing you but never touching you.” 

“If I didn’t know any better,” you said with anger rumbling in your chest, “I would almost call the tone in your voice remorse.”

“I apologize for hurting you,” he states moving to the side of the bed where he laid moments before, before sitting the mattress sinking with him slightly. “I regret that deeply but I don’t apologize or regret bringing you here.” 

“Then what the fuck are you doing?”

“I am giving you a choice,” he said, eyes bearing into you, “now that you’ve lived here for a while, seen what our life can be like. Will you stay?”

What? 

Your eyes dart between his as your mind struggles to come up with any alternative motives he has behind this. He could be luring you into a false security, be sadistically playing with your feelings as a way to punish you further for trying to leave them behind. 

“What would you do if I went?” 

“I’d follow you,” he says with no hesitance, “I’d follow you anywhere mi carissima, from desert to tundra I’d follow you faithfully and without complaint.” his hands hesitantly grab yours, “I can handle myself, and so can Marc and surprisingly so can Steven. You don’t need to worry about us in a fight, but I will not force us to stay here. The choice is yours.” 

There was a lot to think about, there were many contradictory feelings swirling inside of you. A mix of shock, anger, and the tiniest glimmer of hope were the most prominent. You see his eyes and know he’s being honest. He won't force you to remain in this house they’ve built just for you, but he won’t let you leave him. Though, looking back you guessed you never did want to leave them anyways. You were going to leave to protect them and now that you know they were more than capable of protecting themselves…you weren’t sure. You could always lie and manipulate them further, then leave like you had planned to do since you got here. But you could also stay…you don’t know. 

“Do I have to decide now?”

“No,” he assured, “I won’t force you to,” he grabbed the spare pillow and throw blanket at the end of the bed, “I don't want you to get overheated again so I’ll sleep on the couch. So, don’t worry about making any decisions right now and try to get some rest…goodnight.” and with that he left. Leaving the door open behind him and leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. You knew eventually you would have to see him again, he was a part of them but you’d never imagine it would go like this. You kind of imagined he would have the same look in his eyes like he did when he stabbed a needle in your neck, to act insane and possessive and obsessive and hold you hostage with no choice in sight. Except he just gave you one, something to ponder the next two days about. 

Dread fills you as the decision lies in front of you. Waiting for you to make a choice. 

Needless to say, you didn’t get any sleep that night. 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The past two days passed in a blur before you were finally seated next to Steven as he answered the doctors medical questions regarding his overall health. Marc and Steven seemed to have calmed down slightly in terms of spending every minute with you and never letting you out of their sight. It was odd, and now you were conflicted. After Jake’s sudden (and brief) visit your mind had been running a million miles trying to figure out what angle he could be playing. Was this psychological warfare? Was he testing you? 

You excused yourself to the bathroom as planned once the intake was over, mentally your mind began counting down from thirty minutes as you stepped into the bathroom. As expected there were no cameras here in the women’s restroom, which was to your benefit, along with a window. It was smaller than you had expected but it was large enough for you to crawl out of. You were quick to silently click the lock on the door leading to the bathroom before you went to one of the sinks to turn the faucet on. Opening the window and crawling through was bound to make some noise and the rushing water was going to mute some of the noise you would be making. As your hand reaches for the hot and cold knobs you pause. Time was ticking away by the second, every minute you stood there undecided was a minute you could’ve had to get away. Yet here you were. Were you actually considering staying with them? 

It’s horrible, what a few acts of kindness can do. Giving you space, giving you a choice…and you’re a mess. Wasn’t that what you wanted to begin with? A choice? There are only two ways that this plays out, you know this. On one hand you go, you turn the knobs and you run, like you’ve always done, alone. There was no guarantee that Yelena would pick up, there was no guarantee that you wouldn’t be thrusted right back into the life of a mercenary, there was no guarantee that doing this would grant you the freedom you’ve fought so hard and yearned for so long for. Was it freedom if all you did was hide and run? What would happen if you stayed? Jake, Marc, and Steven were an unpredictable risk. Jake could be lying, you wouldn’t put it past any of them to lie and act in order to keep you, even Steven…on the other hand, maybe this was a pattern of yours. Maybe all you ever do in any situation is run, run away from every complex thought and feeling and you never turn back. Maybe the reason you never felt free was because you weren’t meant to be.  You can’t recall the number of times you’ve spent countless night staring at the ceiling instead of sleeping, with gut wrenching guilt as you replay all the terrible things you’ve done as a widow; the people you’ve killed, countries you’ve lead into war that orphaned children, secrets you’ve both hidden and exploited. There were nights you’ve asked for some sort of punishment that would ease the guilt that was slowly killing you. Maybe this was it, maybe this was the punishment. 

Staying, knowing full well that this time there is no evil man behind you pulling your strings, that there was no one to blame but yourself for the outcome. Knowing that your last meaningful act of free will was to throw away the autonomy you had treasured as if it was something solid and tangible in exchange for a gilded cage with no means of escape and constantly wondering if you made the right choice. 

And never knowing if you did. 

Your shoulders slumped as the weight of it weighed heavily. What was it going to be? 

Freedom in exchange for redemption, or redemption in exchange for your freedom. 

You’re not as sly as you think you are–or–as you used to be. Jake had your plan figured out the moment you suggested Marc see the doctor for ‘sleeping medication’. He had to hand it to you, your manipulation tactics were impressive, the collective ‘we’ and ‘us’ and adoring looks and gentle touches were truly inspired. 

You silly, silly little spider…did you really think anything that Jake had told you was true?

////////////////////////////////////////////

Yes, he admits he may have fucked it up a little by going a little bat-shit crazy and sticking a needle into your pretty neck and forcing you into a home that wasn’t finished quite yet. But he made up for it, he let you get this far with your little trick. It was the least he could do, along with offering a fake choice. You weren’t even going to make it to the nearest payphone (which is surprisingly still functional given its obsolete status) before he dragged you back home kicking and screaming if that’s what it took. 

Still, though, he doesn’t like you kicking but as for the screaming (well, given the right circumstances he loves to hear you scream, especially when it’s his name)

So instead of outwardly calling your little game out, he decides to play along, acting none the wiser and giving the biggest performance of his life. 

He knows you like to think yourself a master manipulator, but the truth was that without the constant threat of death and Dreykov’s mind control, your manipulation skills have gotten rusty. A once sharp and carefully polished tool now dull and worse for wear. Against easily manipulated fools like Steven and (sometimes) Marc, it’s effective. But he was the only one who was truly your equal. Jake was the only one who truly understood you. Steven had false memories to comfort him and while Marc and Jake lived with the unhappy ones, and while he wasn’t perfect, at least their dad never forgot Marc’s birthday. Jake had no one, had nothing–not even his own body! Much like you did as a widow. You were the only person who could possibly understand him and by extension he was the only one to understand you. 

There is a strange power in being understood, it’s terrifyingly intoxicating, especially to one who is never understood. Jake had never been particularly interested in salvation or redemption in general, but you became his religion, the altar where he worshiped and the light that baptized him. Worshiping you was as easy as breathing, like it was what he was made to do. So he listened devotedly to every syllable from your mouth and he made a list of all you said. 

Jake had wanted to marry you before showing you the home he had built, (well him, Marc, and Steven), he had it all planned out, the only thing he didn’t plan for was that night. Suddenly his light was taken from him, his comfort, his home, his life was stripped away from him before he could utter a word. 

That would drive any man insane. 

He made a few questionable choices, sure, but he paid for them and now here was his reward. Driving back from the doctors with a prescription he doesn’t intend on picking up with you in the passenger seat. Willingly and holding his hand. 

He smiles, ignoring the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and how your fingers tremble ever so slightly as he pulls your hand for a kiss. None of that matters, you’re with him now. 

With no chance of escape. 

Ever again.

[arana-222]

I love you

One shot of falling asleep on kylos lap while he works

Wrote this at 11 pm so be nice as always it is unedited and just for enjoyment and entertainment it’s not a masterpiece

The day was dragging on.Nothing had kept you entertained for long,,,it was a problem honestly. And no one was around to talk to so currently it was just you with your head thrown back as you groaned into kylo’s empty quarters. It  was so…sterile? It's like he didn't live here. no pictures or posters or decorations to fill the room. 

Swinging your legs off the couch, you could feel as your feet touched the floor. Unsure of what to do, you stood up making your way to kylos front door putting your shoes on. You had no direction, no idea what to do but wandering had to be better than sitting here doing nothing. Grabbing a coat too you set out on a mission, find something to do. 

It probably would be harder than just the change of scenery but at least out in the hallway it didn't feel as empty with the first order generals walking past. They paid you no mind, they knew who you were. They just didn't care….

The hallway was dark and cold too. Passing by a bunch of doors they all looked the same. They were all big sliding doors with pin pads you didn't have the code for. That's what made finding something to do so hard…you couldn't really go anywhere. Kylo framed it as protection but it probably was the control aspect of it. Knowing where you could and couldn't go put his mind at ease. Most of the codes you did have were to your own room you rarely slept in considering kylo never let you leave back to your own room. 

the mess hall, and kylos room to get outside or to a TIE fighter to leave was impossible. Not that, that was a thought you had…often. But sometimes wanting to be outside in fresh air alone has crept into your thoughts. 

Hurried footsteps from the other side of the hall caught your attention as a young girl no older than 19 rushed out of a room crying. She rushed into the bathroom wiping her tears. As you walked the door you heard hushed voices “fucking idiot”…You knew that hushed voice. that low growl of annoyance. 

A hand shot up before you could think of knocking on the door. “I said get out!” he yelled and a small chuckle escaped your lips as you pushed the pin pad. It flashed green at you alerting you that it was never locked in the first place. 

“Boo?” you said as you stepped out from behind the door. His face flashed quickly features softening but it quickly became stoic again. “I'm busy” he said hurriedly as he looked back at the files he held in his hands “See now I knew scaring you wouldnt work but I thought i'd maybe get a hi” you shot back. You knew doing this was risky but boredom had hit you like a ton of bricks so any reaction from Kylo would have kept you busy for a few more hours. 

“Im working” he kept his responses short as your feet took you to his desk he paid no attention to you as you too scanned the files…war strategies the one that read Hux was quickly discarded which made you laugh. “Do you have to be here?” You didn't respond.”Nothing better to do than annoy me huh?” You shrugged as you sat on his desk. He sighed finally putting down all the files and looking at you. 

“And what is it that you want?” pretending to think for a second “Money?” He rolled his eyes, he could read you like an open book he knew boredom had finally hit you. “if I give you money will you go away?” 

“No.” the response was quick. “Great” He huffed as he scooted back in his chair pushing away from his desk at the same time he managed to yank you off the desk. Surprise had you yelping as you felt your feet hit the floor. He finally cracked a smile at that. 

He had your arm in his hand as he guided you onto his lap. “What-“ Your response was cut off by him. “I need to work and you wont leave me alone so this is how we are doing this” He left no room for arguments as one hand went to his remaining files  and the other to your back as he traced small patterns on you. 

Not that he'd ever admit it but having you so close was a comfort to him to hear your breaths and feel your warmth on him. But his expression remained stoic even though a small smile dared to crack his facade. 

slowly the sound of his heartbeat became too much with the added small and soft touches he left on your back. Your eyes grew heavy as you sat there silently with your head on his chest. The warmth of him too was like a warm blanket…it was safe. 

The supreme leader who had a girl rushing out crying, who had commanded armies of ruthless men and brought people to their knees had felt safe to you. 

He could sense it with the force when you finally let sleep take over you. Drifting off and your breathing steady he finally stopped looking at those stupid case files as he leaned back you still on his chest and held you. 

Kissing your head softly running his fingers through your admitting something he never would when you were awake 

“I love you” His breath hush against your head kissing you again. for the first and only time that day he smiled. 

[sundaynightlive]

august of '85 (Steddie, Part 2)

A week.

Steve has had weeks of his life pass by like seconds—hell, the first ten years of his life seem to have left even faster than that.

But now, he itches.

It’s morning, and Eddie’s in a t-shirt and boxers chugging coffee like it’s wine, wandering aimlessly around the living room with a background of natural light and ocean, and all Steve can think is that he wants to pick him up and drag him to bed—his bed. 

Last night, they had slept in separate rooms, but slept is a complete overstatement. Steve tossed and turned and struggled over many things, most of them falling back to Eddie in some way, shape, or form—the condensed version is this—

He’s gay? He’s gay. Well, half-gay. He should ask Eddie about that. Eddie? Yeah. Eddie. He should’ve known—if Robin and Nancy could physically make a baby, it’d be Eddie. Nancy and Robin making a baby—ew, okay, gross. Enough of that. Eddie—he’s really beautiful. And they kissed. Didn’t they meet less than two weeks ago? But Steve also invited him on a month-long vacation, so is kissing him really that far-fetched? Can something that happened even be far-fetched? Now he has to wait a week. Why? Why couldn’t it have just been, like, a day? And what had Eddie meant about ruining his life? What could ruin his life—being gay? Kind of too late to change that, isn’t it? But he is only half-gay. So he technically could just… go on. Normally. That seems like living sort of a lie, though, right?

Steve spent hours mulling over his situation in his brain, and only realized this morning the part he hadn’t really addressed—how the fuck is he supposed to last a week when Eddie will be walking around in his pajamas, breaking bread with him, swimming with him, walking along the beach with him, having tons of vacation firsts—

Fuck, and he’s just supposed to sit around here, genuinely crushing on somebody for the first time in months, and not act on it? When he knows it’s reciprocated? 

He’s screwed.

“Eds—”

“That’s a new one.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss a beat, mug hardly removed from his lips, curls down around his face like an actual lion’s mane. He’s beautiful, literally like some sort of model with that nose and those lips—Steve can picture this exact image of him, backed by those huge windows and all that water, shoved in some home-decoration magazine, and the lady looking through it would jump at his tattoos and his Metallica t-shirt but be so genuinely captivated by those eyes that— 

“Hello? Earth to Steve?” 

Steve snaps out of it, feeling heat rise up into his cheeks. it's embarassing to be caught staring so adamantly, but he hasn’t allowed himself to feel all of this yet. And he wants to.

Desperately.

“I—sorry. Do we really have to—” 

Eddie puts up a hand, a terrible way to try and focus him because all Steve can think about then is that black fingernail polish and those rings and how those might feel on his skin or in his hair or even in his mouth, how they taste, or what it would be like to have them inside him or—

Woah. Woah.

Christ. When he gets it, he gets it bad, huh?

 “The week is non-negotiable,” Eddie says firmly, and Steve is still staring at his hands, so he can’t find it in himself to be totally devastated, “I need you to be 100% sure this is what you want. I’m not ruining my first and only vacation by sleeping with my handler—”

“Woah, pause. Do not call me your handler.” 

Eddie grins, and Steve thinks he can call him whatever he wants for the rest of his life if he keeps smiling just like that.

“Why not?” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, something Steve was not aware a man could actually do, and spins around like a true showman, “I’m an animal, baby. You just try and keep me out of trouble.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. He wants, no, needs to reach out and pull Eddie in by the waist, push their noses together and tease him up close and personal, but--

He settles for sitting down on the couch, falling back into the cushions, supremely careful of the coffee in his cup. He took the plastic off these couches years ago. His parents never noticed. Has he spilled a couple times? Yes. Does it matter?

Not in his house.

“I know exactly how to keep your dumb ass in line.”

“Oh really?” 

A challenge. Steve tries not to look too smug as he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Distract and occupy,” he says, “Ask you about D&D and then hand you something shiny and you’re set for hours.” 

If Steve thought that last smile was something, this one is a spiritual experience. Not only does Eddie beam, he tips his head back and laughs, exposing throat and releasing genuine joy and if that’s not everything Steve has ever wanted, he’s not sure what could be.

Is he whipped? He’s whipped. How is he even asking himself that question, of course he’s whipped. God—he’s gotta call Robin. He’s not even sure how he’s holding this conversation his mind is so fuzzy.

“Distract and occupy,” Eddie repeats, eyes shining, “I can think of a few different ways to do that.”

Oh. Oh.

Eddie is so not helping his situation.

They finish their coffees with easy conversation—how they slept, what the plan is for today, when they should go for groceries. They decide to shower and get dressed on their own timelines and when they’re ready they’ll be ready, which is nothing like it used to be with his parents. Minute by minute itineraries—his mom, when she was younger, was eager to do as much as they could in the time they were allotted. You’d think she would’ve been less concerned considering they had a whole month to waste out here, but she somehow always managed to fill every single moment with some tourist attraction or event. It never felt like too much, either. She was a planning master—completely balanced.

As she got older, and after the affair, all she wanted to do was lie around and drink wine on a beach somewhere else. Part of him suspects she just can’t handle being here anymore.

The memories that cradle him haunt her.

Steve uses his shower to get it the fuck together. He does not think about Eddie or smooth pale skin or what his tan lines are gonna be like in a week or wonder if he’s thinking about Steve and if he is, what he’s doing about it. No, Steve doesn’t think about any of those things at all.

He presses his forehead and nose to the shower wall and takes a breath. He lets the water fall over his skin and tries to wash away all this achy want and desperation, tries to look at it from the other angle—not forward, but backwards.

Eddie isn’t going to be a forever thing, that much is clear, so if Steve wants to keep himself from falling into actual pieces, the best thing to do is to stop all this unhinged fantasy. Eddie may be a crush, and a boy, and a beautiful boy at that, but he doesn’t belong to Steve anymore than Nancy ever did, or Robin ever did, or any of those random girls he shared sheets with. 

No, Eddie is an end-of-summer fling. Steve has to make peace with that. He’s not having a Nancy the Second where he obsesses long after his opportunity is over—he’s taking the opportunity and he’s making the most out of it, just like his mom had all those Augusts before.

His shower finishes swiftly after that, and he doesn’t even bother blow drying and styling his hair before he’s throwing on the nearest thing—shorts and a t-shirt—and hauling ass downstairs so he can get to a phone before Eddie’s done getting ready.

Of course, he knows Robin’s number by heart, but he suspects that’s not where she is.

“Hawkin’s Family Video, how can I—“

“Rob it’s me,” Steve says quickly, “I’ve gotta talk to you and I don’t have a lot of time so I need you to just shut up and listen.”

“Steven—“

“I kissed Eddie, er, Eddie kissed me—you know what it doesn’t matter, Eddie and I kissed and I really fucking liked it and I think him and I are going to have the most intense summer fling of my life and I’m kind of freaking out and I also need you to tell me if I can like girls and guys because I definitely like girls but I’m obsessed with Eddie—he’s like, genuinely gorgeous and I don’t even know what I want him to do to me because I’ve never even thought about how any of this works and I think I’m probably losing it but I have to take the opportunity where I can even though he said it could only be an August thing but I, like, genuinely like him too so that’s really confusing and, like, logistically when we get home what if being friends is too weird and—“

“Holy fuck.”

Steve stops short at her whispered profanity. He has never heard her sound like that, and then it gets louder—

“Holy fuck!”

“What?!”

“You’re into Eddie?! Steve—we’ve been trying to get you a date for months and you’re into fucking Eddie Munson who you whined about having to meet for weeks?!” Steve flinches.

“Don’t ever tell him that.”

“Incredible!” She is laughing almost uncontrollably. Steve really hopes there’s nobody in the store because if he were in family video and heard maniacal laughing like that he’d have the culprit committed pronto.

“Rob, seriously, I don’t have time for this—“

“I can’t believe I couldn’t tell you were bi! That’s just—oh my god, of course.”

“Bi? What do you mean of course?” Steve asks, starting to get slightly offended.

“Star Wars? Indiana Jones? Blade Runner?! You’ve got a fat ass celebrity crush on Harrison Ford.”

Steve’s heard the term “shell-shocked” before, but he’d never really understood until this very moment. He might as well have been sucker-punched in the dick.

Of course.

Robin is laughing hysterically over the line, but he just feels like crying. Of course he likes men—is he stupid? Dumb question, yes he’s stupid. And it churns in his guts to think of all those kids who probably struggled through Hawkins High, knowing they were different, never knowing who or how to be, and he was just like them and yet there he was, excusing Tommy’s behavior and laughing along.

What a piece of actual shit.

“I'm an idiot,” he says weakly. Robin’s laughter dies abruptly.

“Hey—no. You’re not an idiot, it’s not always easy to—“

“I'm an idiot and a hypocrite,” Steve says, choking a little bit on the tears that slide down his cheeks, “God—I’m evil, Rob.”

“Steven, we’ve talked about this,” she says softly, “You didn’t—“

“Steve?” 

Steve jumps and slams the phone into the receiver so hard a few wall decorations literally shake. He shouldn’t turn as fast as he does, should attempt to collect himself first, but he’s so surprised by Eddie’s sudden appearance he can’t even think to do that.

“I just—“

“Still need that week?”

Steve flinches. He puts the heel of his palm up against his forehead and takes a deep breath.

“No, but yes,” he says, trying not to sound as pathetic as he feels, “I’ll wait if it’s what you want, but my mind’s made up.”

“Oh… so… what’s all… this about?” 

Steve can’t help himself—he laughs a little. At least he’s got one thing up on Eddie, that being the ability to deal with people’s emotions arguably okay. Eddie certainly does not sound like he knows what to do in this situation. 

“I just sucked,” he manages, but barely. He’s glad to have covered some of his face, because the tears are not stopping, and he feels like an idiot crying over something that’s ultimately his own fault.

He chose to be ignorant. He chose to be cruel. He chose popularity over sincerity.

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate?”

Does he? Does he really?

“In highschool,” he groans, moving his hands to wipe tears away, sniffing hard. “I pushed around people—kids—who were just like me. I treated them like shit when I could have—”

Eddie’s arms close around him, fingers sliding into his wet hair, and Steve lets it happen—it feels like they’ve failed the “give it a week” stipulation already, but the embrace is good, and he needed it badly. 

He doesn’t hug Eddie back, just lets himself be held.

“I’m gonna tell you something now, and if you tell anyone I did, I’ll fucking deny it.” 

Steve takes a shaky breath.

“Okay.”

“Everybody sucks in high school,” Eddie says firmly. His fingers start to stroke across the back of Steve’s head and the feeling would have him absolutely catatonic if he wasn’t bent on hearing Eddie out— “Everyone. Kids like you, kids like me—we all had some chip on our shoulder, and some reason we were secretly better than everyone else. You were just… people just believed it about you.”

That doesn’t really make him feel better, because he knows that it wasn’t even anything about him they decided was better—it was his place on the basketball team (which had been mediocre at best) and his money and his hair and his last name and his friends and his charming manner and his pretty face—

Sports, money, hair—it’s all meaningless and stupid. It doesn’t matter, and this isn’t the first time Steve is realizing it, but it’s the first time he’s come to terms with the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and how he had abused that ridiculousness to its fullest extent. Not only had he abused it, he had enjoyed abusing it. And he routinely hurt people in the process, not to mention denying himself actual happiness and actual friends..

Fuck.

“I’m a bad person,” Steve whispers, and Eddie’s light petting turns into a firm grasp.

“A bad person wouldn’t feel shitty about this stuff,” Eddie argues, and then pulls back from the embrace, fixing Steve with those doe eyes and swallowing gaze, “And, I’ve got pretty high standards, like, Luke Skywalker standards.” 

Steve smiles a little as Eddie reaches to brush away a few of his tears.

“I wouldn’t kiss a bad person, or agree to have a summer fling with them,” Eddie says, “And I wouldn’t bend the rules and let a bad person kiss me one more time to tide them over.”

Steve takes the opportunity for all it’s worth.

It taste like salt and spit because he’s still crying, but Eddie’s mouth is so soft and captivating that the kiss, which had every intention of being chaste, grows insistent and long. Eddie’s face in his hands, Eddie’s thumbs in his belt loops, the smell of shampoo and clean clothes and—

They break. Eddie smiles, letting a thumb pass over Steve’s lips.

“The week starts now.”

And, oh, is it bittersweet.

Friday, August 2nd—they spend what’s left of the day getting groceries, Eddie seemingly mesmerized by the small beach-town and its cobblestone streets and endless array of tourist traps. Every other storefront is a gift shop of useless trinkets, themed cafes, arcades, bars—if it’s going to empty your pockets, it’s there. Amidst all of it, though, there is a record store that’s genuinely cool, and if they hadn’t already purchased a crap-load of things that begged for a refrigerator, Steve would’ve been content to spend hours watching Eddie tear through the stacks, and then surprise him by buying every single thing he marveled at.

An idea for another day.

After that, they hang around the house, chatting, arguing, making pancakes for dinner—they get to bed at reasonable times, and despite how badly Steve wants to walk down the hall and crawl into bed with his… friend, he manages to just sleep instead, pillow trapped securely in his arms.

Saturday, August 3rd—ice cream for breakfast, which has them both giggly and on embarrassing sugar highs, so they decide today is a beach day.

Eddie’s unearthly, as usual, and excited like a child at the vastness of the ocean.

Excited or not, he’s still timid about getting in the water.

“What about the sharks?” he asks.

“Sharks don’t kill near as many people as cars do,” Steve points out.

“Really?”

“Really. Get in the water, Eds.”

“It’s still really weird to hear me call you that.”

“Get in the water, baby.”

Steve continues looking out at the ocean (not his favorite sight, because man, is that all kind of scary) even though he’s certain Eddie’s head whips towards him fast enough to break his own neck. Steve may be whipped, but he isn’t totally shit at flirting. Sure, he’s used to girls, but could it really be all that different?

A beat.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?” Steve continues casually, “Let’s go.”

Once Eddie’s in the water he doesn’t want to get out of it, and Steve’s alright with that until he realizes how burnt Eddie is, and then practically has to drag him out and back up to the house so he can absolutely smother him with aloe vera.

“It doesn’t even hurt!”

“It will,” Steve chides, “You idiot—did you even put sunscreen on?”

“I forgot,” Eddie mumbles sheepishly.

“Of course you did.”

Sunday, August 4th—Eddie is too embarrassed of his cherry-tomato appearance to agree to go anywhere, so they stay in and watch old movies. Steve desperately wants Eddie to cuddle up next to him on the couch, but at the moment, the older boy is radiating heat and visibly in pain, so he understands when Eddie leaves a generous amount of space between them.

Monday, August 5th—Eddie’s burn settles into a tan and Steve avoids eye-contact with him for about an hour straight, because he’s glowing, and Steve wants to shove him onto the nearest flat surface and… well, he’s not exactly sure what he wants to do, but he’d do it enthusiastically.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Then look at me.”

Steve tentatively lifts his gaze.

“Was that so hard?”

Yes. It’s miserable. This is the bitter part of the week—not being able to act on all these steadily brewing feelings of want and need. He loves being here with Eddie, but he wants to be here with Eddie, too. He gets it—or at least, thinks he gets it. Eddie doesn’t want him to make a hasty decision, regret it, and ruin this vacation for both of them.

That makes sense. Too much sense, really.

But it doesn’t make waiting any easier.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Steve breathes, and Eddie physically starts.

“I—what?”

“Drop-dead, breathtaking, whatever you want,” Steve admits.

Eddie’s the first boy Steve ever called beautiful out loud, and he can’t help but think this is exactly how things are supposed to be.

Tuesday, August 6th—Steve enacts his plan of taking Eddie to the record store, and it’s everything he could have hoped. Eddie is downright euphoric every second, so distracted he doesn’t notice Steve picking up all the records he puts down (after ogling them for extended amounts of time), and so distraught about Steve buying them he doesn’t even argue—just watches with wide eyes as Steve chats up the cashier who bats her eyelashes and twirls her hair and can’t get a sentence out without stumbling over her words.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s the reason we came.”

“You… are you serious?”

“Consider this a thank-you for agreeing to a month-long vacation with a stranger.”

“I… don’t think I can accept this.”

“Too late.”

Wednesday, August 7th—Steve is cranky. He hates to admit it, but he’s tired of this. He’s not sure he can handle the next two days of no Eddie. Well, not exactly no Eddie, but like… half Eddie. He doesn’t like having half Eddie.

But he pushes it all down, because he’s going to obey Eddie’s one and only request, even though he knows his mind isn’t changing. If this week gives Eddie piece of mind, he'll deal with it.

Begrudgingly.

They go to an arcade and waste what’s probably hundreds of dollars for a sad amount of tickets and dogshit prizes—a collection of plastic shot glasses and a toy gun that doesn’t even shoot anything, but makes some unsettling noises when you pull the trigger.

They take the shot glasses as a sign to get tipsy that night, and end up drunk, daring each other this and daring each other that until the topic of skinny-dipping gets brought up.

“No, no—we can’t. There’s sharks at night!”

“In the pool, then!”

And then they’re stumbling drunk out towards the pool, shoving each other and yelling and laughing maniacally, and if Steve were anyone else he would say they were in love, but Steve’s not anyone else and he knows the time limit on all this, so he swallows that thought and focuses on getting rid of his shirt and pants without falling over. Then his socks, and—

He stills. He realizes, even through the fog of intoxication, this is a very precarious situation.

Despite how annoyed he is with the week, and how much he wishes Eddie would just say “fuck it” and change his mind, he knows it’s important. For Eddie, at least.

But Eddie’s naked in front of him and Steve can’t seem to remember how to function.

It only lasts a matter of moments, because soon Eddie’s in the water and teasing him about being a chicken, but Steve’s still thinking about everything he’s just seen, every inch of Eddie’s skin, how real all of him is in that water—

Steve can’t go a day, here, without being some sort of shaken to his core, can he?

“Get in the water, baby,” Eddie purrs.

“I can’t.” It falls out of Steve involuntarily—he’s drunk.

“Yes, you can.”

“How?”

“Lose the boxers, jump in the pool,” Eddie says, “It’s that easy.”

Steve shakes his head. Then swallows.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t.”

“Steve—“

“I’m hard.”

He doesn’t realize it until he’s saying it, and then after it leaves him, understands that yeah. He’s fucking hard, and all that happened was Eddie getting naked in front of him. No contact, no sexual insinuation, just skin. 

Eddie must be magic.

“I can see that.”

Steve is utterly mortified. He doesn’t know what to do except move his shirt (from where it had been clutched against his chest) to hide his growing erection. Now would’ve been a fantastic time to have whiskey dick.

“I… wanna finish the week,” Steve says softly. Eddie’s smirk dies on his face.

“Really?”

“I want you to trust me. I want… I want to do this for you.”

The look on Eddie’s face is foreign, and Steve doesn’t have the brain power available to figure out what it means, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Now that his intentions are clear, Steve drops the shirt and his boxers. A curious glance catches Eddie’s pupils dilating comically, but maybe that’s just from the alcohol.

Eddie backs away from the edge when Steve gets in the water, and they manage to keep their distance.

Barely.

Thursday, August 8th—Steve is itchy, and that’s all he has to report.

They lie around, swim in the pool, and walk on the beach. Nothing eventful, except he’s itchy with anticipation. He’s so close, so fucking close he can practically taste the sweat and salt on Eddie’s skin.

It’s not enough.

Friday, August 9th—midnight tonight and Steve is finally free.

They go for coffee, they hang around—and by hang around, he means Eddie hangs around his periphery as he scours every available source for something they can do tonight, because he has to take his mind off midnight

A bar with an indie band will do.

He tells Eddie about it, who’s got his nose in a book—

“That’s a good one,” Steve tells him.

“Really?”

“I thought it was gonna be, like, a textbook when I picked it up,” Eddie says, flipping a page.

“So did I,” Steve admits, moving around the couch. Eddie scoots for him so they can lie side by side. This is without any real words or indications—Eddie just knows, and he knows when Steve lies down next to him that they’re reading together, now, and asks him quietly if he can turn the page.

The summer home, tucked away in its own little corner of beach-front paradise, has a history far more interesting than the tale at hand, so I will tell it in hopes it makes my story a little fuller, a little brighter—Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name—

Steve likes this one a lot. He likes Augustine and Betty and James and the drama of it all, and the house on the beach, and all the twisting metaphors, and the way T.S. writes like she’s got a feather in her palm rather than a keyboard at her fingertips. Most of all, he likes that she begins and ends each chapter with a poem, and that his parents had lifted “Holiday House” from this book and plastered it across their own property. He likes that the novel lives here on the shelves of a place named after it. He likes that Eddie’s reading it, now, too. 

They read together through chapters four, five, six, seven, and eight. Eddie seems invested, but the time it’s taken them to get here is enough to have practically starved them both.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” Steve says as Eddie turns to chapter nine, “Keep reading.”

“Without you?”

“I’ve already read it.”

Steve gets up off the couch, missing the warmth Eddie’s body had been exuding, but his hunger supersedes his desire to crawl back onto the couch and fall asleep on Eddie’s chest. 

Tonight.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you have a pen?”

“Should be one in the desk in the sunroom,” Steve replies without a second thought, “What’re you hungry for?”

That night they go to the aformentioned bar, Eddie get’s a little tipsy, and they have a fantastic time (at first). The band is beyond good, the crowd is loud, and by 10 P.M. these two girls have joined them, and Steve and Eddie are having a hell of a time chatting them up.

Ally and Aubree—neither of which are Steve’s type, but are arguably gorgeous. Blond, sunkissed, wreaking of tequila and sunscreen and cheap perfume. He’s finding it very funny to chat with Aubree (he’s pretty sure it’s Aubree) knowing full well he’ll be pedal-to-the-metal gunning it home at midnight. Maybe he and Eddie won’t even make it out of the car. Maybe they’ll go out to the parking lot and it’ll already be too late for them, falling all over each other into the back-seat while Ally and Aubree disappointedly hunt for different prey.

It dawns on Steve, then, he’s sort of being an ass, but so far, nothing in he and Aubree’s conversation has explicitly alluded to going home together. For all he knows, she’s gonna go home and jump Ally’s bones--same deal as him.

The same, however, cannot be said for Eddie, who is clearly too good at flirting for his own good, and has Ally completely hooked. Steve can’t help glancing over now and again, watching them closely, not feeling jealousy, but more… awe? He’s incredibly impressed with Eddie’s performance.

“You think she’s hotter?” 

Steve starts.

“What?!”

“You think Ally’s hotter than me,” Aubree states again, voice loud over the music and the crowd, but not loud enough for it to catch Ally or Eddie’s attention. 

“No—I—”

Eddie and Ally get up from the table. Something inside Steve’s guts sinks, and sinks low. He watches them disappear into the crowd. He swallows. He turns back to Aubree.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he says, honestly, “I’m just not looking for a hookup tonight.” 

Aubree grins at the compliment. Steve tries to keep his cool, but he’s feeling the exact opposite of cool. He is, in fact, spiraling. He realizes, in this moment, Eddie may not be attracted to that girl, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not going to oblige her.

Steve had thought this was all fun and games, but now he just wants to throw up.

Not that it’s any of his business what Eddie does. Not that Eddie’s obligated to stick to only him this summer. It’s a fling, afterall.

A fling.

“You wanna dance?” Aubree asks.

"What?"

She points, "Dance!"

The indie-folk vibe is not incredibly conducive to dancing, but Steve’s up for anything if it takes his mind off Eddie and that girl. That girl. Eddie had said verbatim he was gay, right? 

He allows himself to be led to the dance floor.

He tries to forget.

He feels sick.

In the car on the drive back, Steve knows he’s being eerily quiet. He knows Eddie is uncomfortable with his silence. He knows he should turn on the radio, or say something, but all he wants to do is ask if Eddie kissed that girl, if maybe he did something worse than that, and if he had, Steve desperately wants to know how and why and what the logistics of hooking up with some random girl in Maine were when Eddie had said he was gay, and if all gay men could just hook up with women, and if all Eddie had to do was think of Mark Hamil or some other nice guy and that was good enough for him, because a hole is a hole and—

“Are you pissed, or something?”

Eddie’s tone is already accusatory, and it just makes Steve feel worse.

“No.”

“Yes, you are.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel.”

Eddie scoffs.

“Then don’t act like a kicked puppy because I made out with some random chick at a bar.”

Made out.

Steve goes so quiet it’s like he’s not even breathing, at this point. He feels the urge to cry burning at the back of his skull and he fights it, hard. He knows it’s not his place to be upset—they never said anything about them being exclusive this summer. Steve was flirting with Aubree somewhat, too, and danced with her, even. 

Not really because he’d wanted to, but still.

Steve swallows.

“Are you pissed at me?”

Steve’s eyes don’t leave the road, but his hands grip the wheel so tightly his knuckles are an unnatural shade of white compared to the rest of his skin. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him—all the more reason not to cry. He’s fighting tooth and nail for it. He doesn’t get why this all feels so bad. He doesn’t get why he’s so upset.

Maybe he had just expected tonight to be their night.

But that’s stupid, isn’t it? “Why the fuck would I be mad at you?”

Steve’s turn to scoff—he has no idea why Eddie would be mad, but it’s hard to believe he isn’t when he sounds so goddamn angry.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re ridiculous, you know?”

“At least I’m not mad.”

“I’m not mad—” Eddie’s getting madder every second.

They pull into the driveway and Steve stops abruptly, pretty much wrenching the key out of the ignition and kicking the driver door open the way Eddie had done to the passenger.

It’s a little satisfying, he will admit. 

He stalks up the driveway, because now he is mad, and hurt, and feeling like he’s been betrayed even though he hasn’t been. He wants to sleep it off. He has to sleep it off. “Now who’s the mad one?!” Eddie calls after him, and Steve's resolve snaps like a twig. He spins around, tears flowing, anger spilling.

“You don’t even like girls!” he yells. Eddie’s so taken aback he literally takes a step back, even though there’s a whole driveway of space between them. “What the fuck kind of asshole makes a guy wait an entire week to be with him, and then two-hours before the week is up, runs off to make out with some random bitch?!"

He hadn't meant that, the bitch part, but it feels so good to say it now, even though he'll feel guilty about it later.

“Why do you care so much?!” Eddie yells back, so furious now he’s literally red in the face— “You’re gonna do the exact same shit a month from now!”

“Says who?!” Steve shouts, “Who the fuck said September 1st is gonna roll around and I’m suddenly not gonna be fucking obsessed with you, Eddie?! Because I have been fucking dying for this week to be over, and it’s gonna fucking kill me to go home, but I’m gonna do it for you, okay?!” 

His chest is heaving. He can feel the red in his cheeks and the salt on his tongue. He is, for maybe the hundredth time, utterly pathetic. But he can’t stop himself.

“Steve—”

“If we’re doing this,” he says, “We’re doing this. You’re mine for twenty-two fucking days. I. Like. You."

Steve turns on his heel and storms inside, leaving the door to Holiday House hanging wide open. As angry as he is, he doesn’t want to risk slamming it shut and having Eddie turn and go. This way, Steve at least knows he’ll follow him inside to shut and lock the door.

He trudges up the stairs and into his room, leaving that door open, too. He peels out of his shirt and unbuckles his belt, pulling it from the loops and tossing it angrily to the floor. He runs his hands through his hair, trying to put himself back in order, halting the flow of tears and taking deep breaths to soothe his anger.

“I’m sorry,” comes quietly from the doorway, “I just—I didn’t know it was serious for you.”

That seems ridiculous, all things considered.

“It’s not for you?”

There’s a long quiet. Steve doesn’t have it in himself to turn around. He should’ve known what he was feeling wasn’t reciprocated—Steve’s not the kind of guy Eddie wants or needs, and for some reason he hadn’t prepared himself for that, even though he knew it all along. He should be grateful, take what he can get, but all he feels is—

“I was trying to… I thought you would feel better about all this if you thought I didn’t care,” Eddie admits. “I thought if you knew how much I fucking liked you, you wouldn’t let me have you at all.”

Steve spins around, hands on his hips, chest still heaving.

“What time is it?”

Eddie blinks. He looks thoroughly disheveled, still red, and sheepish, like somehow he’s humiliated himself. In a few ways, he has acted like a fucking fool, but Steve is no less attracted to the idiot now than he was before. He did a stupid fucking thing, but Steve has done a hundred stupid fucking things in his life, and he’ll do a hundred fucking more. Eddie's logic is sort-of sound, he just wishes he would've said something to Steve instead of taking it out on some random girl.

“What?”

“What. Time. Is. It?” Steve demands again. Eddie stammers, eyes darting around the room until they land on the alarm clock on Steve’s bedside table.

“Twelve-thirty? Are we—”

Steve doesn’t let him finish.

He surges forward and seizes Eddie by the face, bringing their mouths together insistently, all tongue and teeth and spit and bitter remnants of tears. Eddie get’s hands on his ass and he moans about it, which spurs the older boy forward, and they go tumbling back into Steve’s bed.

I love you, he thinks.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles against his throat before he's sucking and biting and soothing with his tongue and Steve is reduced to sensation--Eddie's body on top of his, knee between his thighs, bedsheets against his back--

“Prove it,” Steve breathes.

And he does—over and over and over again.

End Part 2

(Previous Part)

[holyluminarychaos]

Just getting it off my chest

(sorry about my english, that's not my main language)

This is not an attack on anyone, just a bad experience I had - By the way, trigger warning

Well, I just want to get this off my chest completely, since I've never told this story in full to anyone, because besides being embarrassing, it's hard to explain the concept of liking g/t.

For starters, I experienced grooming from an older guy when I was 14. Since I was very little, I've always really liked dynamics involving differences in size, I never felt anything sexual about those dynamics, I just liked it.

But this guy took advantage of that in me, and when he found out I liked it, he started introducing me to his fetish fantasies. Little by little, he showed me this more sexual side of the community, and at that point I was already 16, and we developed an unhealthy relationship. Time passed, and I found myself having to force me to fit into his fetishes, or he would become completely cold towards me and leave me aside(He said it was for me to reflect on what I did wrong, since he didn't accept excuses).

You people who like the giant/tiny dynamic should know how it feels to feel like a weirdo who is the only one in the world who likes this kind of thing. So when I met this person, I was really happy that I wasn't a sick person with weird taste.

Well, I never liked anything sexual. Never ever. But even so, I forced myself to stay in that relationship because I didn't want to feel alone.

He abused me. I mean, physically. We met on the internet, but we met face to face for the first time at an event in his city, I ended up having to sleep at his house for a few days because this event was hours away from my house and my ticket was valid for up to 4 days. I wasn't that stupid, some of our friends also went together, we all slept in the same room, but do you think that was enough to make him not try anything with me?

I really don't want to and I won't describe what it was like, because it's extremely traumatic for me. But at that time I was taking some prescription drugs, I remember feeling very dizzy and often having to stop to sit down during the event because of the vertigo it gave me.

A lot more things happened, but I don't want to write a bible. I just wanted to say that the person who did this to me has a YouTube channel and is making tons of money, without any consequences. I hate this world.

To think that this all happened because I like g/t... I wish this was less taboo, because if that were the case, I would understand that this guy was completely crazy and would have saved A LOT of sanity.

So, for any minors reading this, please don't be as innocent as me. Wait for the right moment to start a relationship, and NEVER have a relationship with older people. I know that what I went through is not restricted to the g/t community, there are bad people everywhere, so listen to what I say, I promise you that you don't want trauma like that.

On the bright side, because of this experience I discovered myself as asexual, yaaaay(help me)

[elizabethplaid]

evening notes - oct 15, 2024

I slept for about 3 hours this afternoon. Kinda forgot when I had last slept before that. I DO know that I was in the bath at 2:30 and out around 6am. I'm not sure how much I remember from dinner and earlier. My memory is bad, and I was clearly awake for more than 24 hours.

Since I didn't get my lab sample today, I'm going to wait til next week. The doc is only there 2 days a week, and he wanted to see the results and call me asap. *shrug*

Oh and because of sleeping, I didn't go to the library, like I had planned. Is that a bad thing? No. The "mania" of staying up all night and then continuing to do things meant that I had grand, unrealistic plans.

On the bright side, I slept with clothes on! Even socks! And I've been wearing them all evening, including the hooded sweater I thrifted back in May. I've had also been writhing, overwhelmed by my sense of touch. Mostly good, just intense.

Talk about nail polish failure is below the cut.

I used the blue Rimmel polish tonight, and it seemed to dry okay. But when I layered the sheer "fairy tale" polish over it, it seemed to melt. Like, I could wipe off the majority of it with a paper towel. So I did, alas. I cleaned it up the big chunks with non-acetone nail polish remover, then hit the details with acetone. (Gotta use up the non-acetone somehow.)

Since it took me so long to do my nails and then undo them, I've left them blank for now. Also, that sheer shimmer has left specks everywhere. I'll try to redo it tomorrow, perhaps with the "miami spirit" shade, maybe without the sheer stuff.

Why not just skip the sheer stuff and retry the Rimmel? The base-top coat is the same brand. If it's a chemical reaction from that, I worry that it'll happen again when I reapply the clear coat. Plus, the Rimmel is one of my older ones and was really cheap. If I reattempt it ever again, I'll buy some Rimmel-branded base-top coat, just to be safe.

I swear, I have a ton of nail polish, and I just never used it over the years. I'd keep buying bottles, wear it a couple times, then forget about it. ======

Briefly talked about sleep hygiene with my dad, and how bad my sleep habits are. Very likely a result of hanging out in bed all day, along with playing with my phone and laptop in bed.

I'm relying on very old coping mechanisms lately, because of my sense of touch being overloaded. I think I stopped hiding in my room all the time in 2011ish? That's when I'd have my laptop at the kitchen table. After mom passed, I had it in the living room. (Really, I stayed in my room to avoid her.)

Truly, the sooner I can at least hang out in the living room during the day, the better my sleep will get.

[pbandjesse]

I felt pretty good today. And that was good! Because I wanted to end camp on a good note. And now camp is over, and the off season begins!

I slept alright last night. I woke up twice a little disoriented and uncomfortable. But I was able to sleep pretty well outside of that. Waking up was really tough. And my body ached really bad.

But I was doing alright. James got me a bagel for breakfast. Which I would have preferred more toasted but it was still good. James gave me lots of hugs and sent me off to work with good vibes for the last day of camp.

And it was a good time. I got there at 8. I ate half of my bagel while driving. And when I got to camp I was glad that no one was parked in my spot. Tony had been yesterday (thought he moved by 9 and apologized haha) but my spot on front of the building was just like me like it should be.

I would set up and spent some time sweeping and continuing cleaning up and getting ready for the season to be over. I would slowly work through things all day. But I felt good about the space. Really what I need to focus on next is going to be going through Native American field trip stuff so that everything is set for the school year. A task I am dreading but will get done. Probably on Thursday.

My groups today were good. They made good art. I was running low on quite a few colors of felt but the kids made due. And we're mostly self sufficient and so I worked on my knitting and enjoyed chatting and helping them cut their felt. I would show them fabric cutting techniques (use the armpit of the scissors, use small movements, take your time) but if they were still struggling I asked that they draw out the shape before asking me to help cut things because I am not a mind reader and didn't want to mess up their ideas. They would find this funny but it saved me a ton of frustration trying to get them to use their words to describe what they wanted.

I would work on some tasks during lunch. I had my cereal. And went to get check lists for cleaning from the office. Checked in with people about gathering materials from all the new programs spaces. I won't have time tomorrow because I'm helping with a field trip/rental for most of the day. But everyone has been on board and that's just really excellent.

My afternoon was just two day camp groups. Who were very sweet. They would help me clean up. And we're mainly good. Thought one child washed s ton of my hot glue just making a melted mountain and I wasn't happy. But after I spoke to him he stopped and understand why I didn't want him to do that. We learn and we grow.

My last group do the day helped me clean really well. I gave out smiley stickers to those who were helping. Which always makes them help more. I always act like it's the biggest deal to get a sticker so they are really sweet trying hard. And then I told them thank you for being a good last group. And then they said goodbye.

I spent most of the next hour cleaning. Throwing stuff out. Packing things away. Was doing good. And eventually I would take a walk to drop off my check lists. Callie ran up behind me and I was really happy to see her. We walked around together to the different specialties and dropped things off and said hello to people. It was nice.

I would keep cleaning for a bit. Signed some tshirts for friends. Took a few minutes to knit and sip water and have a small snack. And then off to the office for a meeting.

We were meeting about tomorrow's rental. 200 ublaw students coming for team building and diversity training. I am only slightly nervous because I haven't done team building in a while. But it's only two blocks of 45 minutes so I'm not to worried. I want to look over the lessons beforehand but I am sure it'll come back to me. More of the worry is that it's supposed to storm really bad in the morning. But hopefully it just passes us by and it's not a big deal.

We are going to be given breakfast and lunch tomorrow which I'm excited about. And we decided on the Kelly green camp shirt. But I didn't know where mine was. So I would have to go search peeps mill. And thankfully that's where it was. And the day was saved.

I would go home soon after that. And got back home at 5. I was happy that James was already home. And getting ready to host their parents.

We set up the backyard and made it cute. James made burgers and stuff. And once we were set up I would lay on the couch until they rang the door bell.

It was really nice to see them. They brought salmon and James grilled that too. We also had water melon which was great. And I was just really enjoying the company. They told us about their trip and work and friends.

James would make burgers (and a veggie chicken sandwich for me which was very very spicy) and we had great conversations and after dinner James made crepes for dessert which were excellent. I love my husband. They do such a good job making food.

Anne got to learn that there's a fig tree behind our fence. So she would go over there with a container and got a dozen beautiful figs. She loves figs so that was super sweet. I am glad she got to get so many!

Me and Tucker chatted for a while. He tried cottage cheese for the first time and really liked it. And I said my dad always eats it with pineapple but I've never tried it. Jess prefers it as a savory thing. It's for sure catching on.

They would head home soon after that. Which was for the best, as my stomach started hurting again. Me and James would lay on the couch, just both very very tired. It was a long day!

Now we are in bed. James is dozing. I am winding down. It was a long day. But I'm happy.

And because things just keep going. Tomorrow I go back to camp for camp clean up and the ublaw rental. I have to be home by 430 but I will do my best to help outside of that. And then I have a few days off. To hopefully just rest and chill.

I hope you all have a great night. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[myers-meadow]

A little goes a long way (House of 1000 Corpses)

Title: A little goes a long way.

Summary: This is my second chapter in the House of 1000 Corpses AU shared with @immortal-velociraptor and @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better. Blinky is Fang's OC. In this one, Doe Eyes finds her footing in the family a little, relationships are formed and she is left with enough to think about as time moves forward. First person POV following Manon "Doe Eyes", my OC.

My first piece of writing in this AU is here. Immortal-velociraptor has done quite a few more about Blinky and their family life, and they are the most wonderful pieces - I hope I did it all justice.

Warnings: none.

Hope you enjoy! <3

Dividers by calanthesfeuillemort and firefly-graphics.

After I was spared, owing my life to Blinky’s kindness and grace, the tension was not yet resolved. All members of the family, except Blinky, tested where my weaknesses laid in their own specifically torturous ways.

Mrs. Firefly made me clean, which was a relief. To busy the hands is to quiet the mind, as my grandmother used to say. While doing one task or the other, Baby would come in, spill a bowl of cereal, or put her dirty plate on top of the clean pile, and say, ‘You wouldn’t mind cleaning this up for me, would you sweetie?’ Her giggle resounding in my ears as she walked away.

Captain Spaulding, who was mostly fine, unconcerned with the pecking order unless when challenged, but had fun making me believe I’d committed a terrible slight against him anytime we talked – then laughed and backed off. Just joking. It made my heart beat terribly in my throat, fearing yet another fight Blinky would have to save me from. One day I’d learn how to deal with him, but goddess knows it's not gonna be anytime soon. Good thing he was away at the gas station most days.

Rufus, or RJ, who was, as his mama called him, ‘shy’, but would block my path any chance he got. Tiny was much the same; quiet, only poked me to see if I’d bite and losing interest when I didn’t. He felt that his basement girls were enough for him. Perhaps I wasn’t his type. He never understood me when I spoke, but I learned a few quick signs, of simple things, like ‘meal’, ‘mama’ and such.

Gramps, with his white hair, was a hothead, but yielded easily to any other. He kept to himself and to his favourite shows on the telly. Bringing him a beer was the least of my worries. He had the wildest stories about a ton of different things, but I never knew if I could believe any of them. I made the mistake of repeating one to Spaulding and Mrs. Firefly and they laughed at me for believing him, but then followed up with another story that sounded even less believable.

Besides the tension, there were the high notes, often involving Blinky – who was fun to be around. They let me stay in their room, where I slept on the bed when they weren’t sleeping. Their chaotic sleep schedule allowed me more rest than I had gotten in the weeks prior – but Baby had a habit of entering unannounced and jumping onto the bed to wake me. She never meant ill-intent as far as I could tell – just liked to play a little rougher.

The most glad was when I got my stuff back. They retrieved everything from the trunk of the car we came in; being surrounded by my own things was the greatest comfort. As the days were filled and I wore my own skirts and blouses again, the nights were spent with Blinky and Baby. They hung out together the most, listening to records, watching old movies on the telly, while I sat back and watched them do each other’s hair and make-up.

“Hey Doe Eyes, lighten up,” Baby laughed, sitting on Blinky’s bed, passing me the blunt that I immediately handed over to Blinky. I’d wanted to go to sleep an hour ago, but now that they were here, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Yet, it was difficult to be annoyed when their giggles were so infectious and they were having a truly good time.

Trying to hide my awkwardness, I reached for the matches on the nightstand, struck one, “Like this?” and lit one of the unlit candles on the floor.

Blinky giggled, and Baby joined in, slapping me lightly on the knee. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“You have to come closer,” Blinky said, patting the spot next to them. Somehow, even after sharing the same room for several days now, it was uncomfortable to get too close. “or I can’t braid your hair.”

“Please be gentle,” I said, as I scooted closer. It was a mid-sized bed, but with all of us on it, it felt cramped. In an attempt to make the brushing to smoother, I finger-combed some of the worst knots out before Blinky could grab the brush.

“It’s silly to be so scared all the time, you know,” said Blinky, before starting on my hair. They were gentle, for as far as was possible when the tangles are unexpected. Gentler than my mother ever was. Baby cocked her head at us as Blinky braided down, a smile on her face that unsettled me.

“It looks good on you when it’s loose too, you should wear it down more often,” she then said, which was so unexpected it flustered me.

“You’re really pretty,” was all I could think of to say. “I could tell James was really into you. Before you killed him, I mean.”

She let out a hearty laugh. “Sure was, huh.” She reached over to hand Blinky a hair tie. It was a tighter braid than I usually make, but they probably wanted to do it really well. It was comfortable. “He wasn’t very nice to you, though.”

“He wasn’t the worst either,” I flatly responded. Not rude enough to earn getting tortured and killed, at least, is what I wanted to say.

“Nevermind that, how are things with Otis?” her tone was teasing and light, but I’d never dare mistake it for good intentions.

“With Otis?” I repeated.

“Yeah, silly,” Blinky gently pat my shoulder, “He’s not that mad at me, so he must be glad you’ve been staying.”

“I haven’t seen him much,” I said. “Other than during dinner.”

“Oooooh,” Baby drew out the sound as she took another drag, puffing smoke out that hung heavy in the air. I’d have to open a window before I sleep, or the smell will linger. “I’m sure that’ll change soon.”

“Why?”

She just shrugged. “I know my brother and I can tell he’s getting antsy. Little antsy-pants Otis. He gets like that, y’know. Yeah, see, Blinky knows. But it’s nothing bad, don’t worry your little head over it, Doe Eyes.”

Despite Baby telling me not to, I did, in fact, worry.

To keep my mind off of it, I asked Mrs. Firefly what needed to be done that day, she just said: “Aw honey, ain’t it already clean enough?” and that she was going into the town that day and was visiting neighbours.

After breakfast I baked simple cookies, stamped out by using a glass, for her to take with her. I left some on the nightstand for Blinky, to make sure they were safe from the other hungry mouths of the family. Since it had been a week or two since I changed the sheets, I started in the master bedroom, working my way to the other end of the hall. Blinky and Baby were still sleeping. Tiny slept in the basement, but they seemed to always take care of their own, so I was unsure whether or not I dared go down there and intrude.

Otis’ bedroom door was open though, the black marker paintings on the walls greeted me from afar. I’d familiarised myself with them enough to dream them up; the face next to the one with the cowboy hat, which was right by that spot that had two knives still stuck in the wall. The room was messy. The bed was undone, there was blood on the floor (some mine, some was already there). My palms itched.

The desk was strewn with books opened up on top of each other, one pile had sank sideways across the other piles of books, a few dirty plates and glassed standing on top of those.

I sighed. This was the one area of the house I didn’t clean. The one space I didn’t want to enter. But my need to be productive and prove my worth won, so I trudged down the stairs with heavy steps, to first get the supplies I needed and carry the dishes back to the kitchen.

My heart beat the whole time I was surrounded by those walls. With the windows open, it was a bit better, a bit less dizzying. First, dishes; then the desk pile; then the sheets.

A chuckle from the doorway. “Hey little lady,” his voice was smooth, almost pleasant. “It’s a surprise seein’ you here.”

Still shaking the duvet out from the cover, I turned around to face him, feeling like a kid caught entering her father’s study. “I’ll leave,” and I dropped the sheets, moving to go past him.

With an arm on the door frame, he blocked my path. It was less intimidating than I anticipated, similar things were a daily occurrence from several of the family members.

“Ah, so soon? Was thinking it’s nice to see you.” He sounded sarcastic. I debated whether I could duck under his arm, but feared he’d just grab me – preferred not to escalate this to something physical.

When I didn’t answer, he continued. “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Doe Eyes. Not after Blinky took you under their wing.” He chuckled. “You’re family now.”

He moved from his spot by the door and shut it resolutely behind him.

“Was thinking about you, you know, the past week’s been pretty rough.”

“Rough, how?” I echoed, reflexively.

“I’ve been blocked, mentally. It’s terrible, terrible,” He moved through the room with the gait of a panther, at ease, confident. “For a guy like to me to longer be able to do art? All sorts of things start going wrong. Remember how great it felt when I finished the big installation a few days after you arrived? Nothing like it. It's hard to do art when no one cares.”

“Blinky loves seeing what you make.”

He gave me a look intended to silence me. “You know what I mean. You know about art, youaren’t concerned with fakepleasantries.” He almost spat the words. That’s what our ‘good times’ were: him showing me his sculptures and paintings as I sat bound in the chair. After the first day, the fear numbed me, and I dared voice my opinions more and more, critiquing each piece relentlessly. It was genuine, but worded unkindly to get at him and piss him off – just to negate the powerlessness of my then-daily existence.

My brain ran a mile a minute to think of the quickest way to resolve this and to be able to leave. Clicking my tongue, I said: “Well, show me then. Show me what’s gone so bad.”

He raised his eyebrows just slightly, picking up on my annoyance. “No need to be so high-strung, missy, it’s just some art.”

I breathed in deep, trying to get myself under control. Just to make him believe it was all fine and I didn’t wanna tear the drawn-on wallpaper off the wall.

“Where’s my chair?” Otis said, shaking me from my thoughts, looking around his room.

“Oh, uh, I threw it out.” I grimaced, motioning to the open window.

He stepped over, leaned over his desk to see the chair, broken, laying in the grass outside. “I’m sorry – I just got so mad when I looked at it, and there’s still blood on the floor where I sat, and I hate looking at these walls but I know the drawings by heart now and-“

Otis grabbed my arms. “Hey, hey.” Like calming down a wild horse. “Focus on me.”

Odd-coloured amber eyes became the centre of my vision, the rest was fuzzy. Slowly there was his hair, the brown and red of his flannel, the wrinkles in his forehead. I breathed deep.

“Alright, little miss, let’s go to the kitchen, then.”

The statue stood on the kitchen table, made of clay. It was… an interesting little blob of materials.

“You intended to paint this?” I asked, breaking the silence. “It’s a little dull in grey.”

“Hated it so much that I decided it ain’t worth the paint.”

“Yeah, good call,” I said, before grabbing the statue. It made an underwhelming noise as I dropped it on the tiled ground, and stomped on it, not caring that the clay stuck to my socks a little. Then I picked it back up. “Think it’s best you just start over and repurpose the material.”

Otis raised his eyebrows at me, before picking sock fibers off of the chunk of clay. Not that it had much shape before anyway. “You could have just said so.”

“I’ll get you the bowl of water to soften it up again.”

Otis insisted I sat with him, on a new chair, in his room, back to the wall I used to face, and guided him as he reshaped the ugly clay blob.

“What were you going for with it?” I asked, although I immediately regretted speaking as it brought his eyes to mine. My heart skipped a beat each time I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of his gaze.

He hummed, took his time in answering, chipped a few pieces of clay away with one of the tools strewn around his desk. “Hmm, a siren. Or a ship made of feathers instead of wooden planks.”

“Will you paint it?”

He was quiet again for a while before answering. Art calmed him. “Colourful, blues and greens and purple hues.”

“If you add too much colour, you’ll distract from the texture of the scales and feathers.”

He didn’t respond, silence made the occasional crackle of a candle audible. The way the wool of my skirt rustled as I bounced my leg.

“Blinky’s been happier since they got you to stay,” he broke the silence, not looking up from his work in progress.

“That’s sweet of you to say. Blinky’s brilliant. I like them, something about them is very… disarming. They’re smart, funny, endearing. I feel like they never had a good big sister before – but perhaps I feel too responsible again.” I chatted idly, watching Otis’ hands as he worked. It was almost nice to watch such a brutal man in the middle of creating something pretty, it felt like sharing a secret – even though everyone knew about his art.

“Blinky has that effect on others, yeah.” Was that a smile tugging at the corner of his lips? “Bet Baby’s still having ‘er fun with you. Baby’s a bitch, but if she likes you, you’re good. She likes whoever Blinky likes. They been treatin’ you nice?”

“Both of them have a habit of waking me throughout the night, but it’s fine. Blinky never sleeps, don’t understand how they’re this energetic despite never sleeping. I keep forgetting to ask Mrs. Firefly if there’s a spare closet space or something somewhere. Perhaps I can put a mattress in there and have some restful nights.”

Otis looked up and put his sculpture down. “That’s nonsense. I have the old bed in here, used to be RJ until he grew like a bear.” He points over his shoulder to something I just then could see was a bed: a simple metal bedframe, brick red sheets on which piles and piles of junk laid. There were books, clothes, art supplies, chunks of clay or wood; and candles on top of each semi-steady stack of books. “I’d have to clean it up, of course.”

“Really?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. It seemed like an unusually kind thing of him to offer his space to me. Suspicious.

He shrugged. “Well, you’re not getting Mama’s extra closet space, she uses it for her robes, or Baby has it for her costumes, so it’s the best thing I can think of.”

“Alright, thanks.” It felt foreign to thank him. “I’ll discuss it with Blinky too, but I appreciate it.”

He laughed, stood up to make his way over to the spare bed, slapping me on the shoulder as he went. “What are you – a diplomat? Just do as you like, Blinky won’t mind as long as they still get you to themselves for some of the day.”

I stood up too. “It’s not Blinky I’m worried about.”

He raised his brow at me, still grinning. “Oh, me? You’re worried about sharing a room with me.” He seemed genuinely offended. What audacity!

“Don’t I have reason enough to be wary of you?”

“Not anymore, missy.”

With great annoyance, I noticed how much he was enjoying this conversation. Clenching my fists and letting long nails dig into my palms helped me keep my voice calm. “That old blood stain by the nightstand is mine. And so is that one by the door.”

He gave me a look as if to say ‘are you serious?’, and raised his voice: “you were the one who cut me first! You were trying to get away.”

“Oh, forget it,” I said, making move to leave. He spoke more, words reaching me before I could get to the door.

“You have a choice now, y’know, you can be difficult all you want to spite us, but it won’t make things better for you. Or you do what you can to help yourself out and make living here a little easier– starting with a good night’s sleep. Up to you.”

And I firmly shut the door behind me.

[lavender-sheperd]

Info dump about feeling alone n stuff

So I'll start this off by saying my mom was never really present like she should've been, she's got a few chronic illnesses and she's disabled, a lot of my childhood she was in bed, asleep, busy, or some other reason that she couldn't give me attention. I'm sure we did lots of things together but what I remember most is her not being present.

I have to brothers but for most of my life the older one has been mean and the younger one was a complete brat so I didn't have any connection to them.

When I was really little (4-5?) my mom was moving us 45 minutes away and would usually go up for a few days and come back to town for one or so. Now already that was hard for me because she was the only person I knew, no friends, no friendly neighbors, no dad. She'd leave me and my brothers with her mom who is an immigrant (doesn't speak a ton of English) and who honestly disliked us a lot. She refused to let us call out mom even if she said it was okay, she would watch us and criticize everything we did, she was very emotionally cold. It was a lot harder than it should've been for me and I kinda thought about how I missed my mom constantly. One time my mom came back for a lil bit and told me I could come with her, but my dumb lil self was being rude so she just left me. Now that's fine, but for me it was: mom is home > I can go with her!!! > Say something > mom is mad > says I can't come > drives away > without her for days

Which for a small child was really damaging

Then, later my mom said we were moving a state away and me and my brothers had to stay with her parents while she packed up the house

That meant that 8 year old me had to stay in a new state with people I barely knew

My mom would be in California for a few weeks and we'd stay in her parents house which was cold, and empty. She didn't like having the heater on so the house was cold, didn't like decorating so it kinda had the bare minimum. No toys, no books, 30 minutes of tv a day, not allowed to really play in the yard. We really didn't go anywhere like parks or anything, maybe the McDonald's play place once a week. So that left a lot of time for me to cry about how I missed my mom. My grandma was still as apathetic as ever and wouldn't let us call her. My grandpa was a bit better but they were bad parents and didn't know how to interact with kids at all. This went on for only like 2 months but it felt like an eternity for me as a kid

Next, my mom eventually stayed in my grandparents house, she's always stayed up late and slept late (like 4-7 am to 1-2 pm) so she'd stay in bed a lot of the day. My grandma watched me like a hawk so if I tried to go to my mom's room to see her my grandma would get mad at me and once again, refused to let us see her even if our mom said it was okay. That went on for a summer.

When we moved out she was still sick and stayed in bed a lot or was on her phone or working, and often she'd tell us she was going to run a quick errand and be gone for 4 or 5 hours

Think "I'm going to run these donations to the thrift store and that's all" at 3 and then at 8 when it's dark and I've kinda accepted that she probably got in a car accident she'd come home acting like that was completely normal

Me and my brothers had no way to contact her so when she was gone she was gone and we just had to wait, she'd often drop us off at our grandparents and we didn't know how long we'd stay and couldn't contact her

When we were moving again she's leave me and my brother, or just be at the house so she could fit more in the car. She'd say she'd be right back and hours would pass in an empty house with no way to contact her. I remember a time that the only thing in the house was the TV, a few chairs and a towel, and she was gone for probably 4 hours again, it was 9 pm and cold and so the only thing I could really do was push the chairs together and use the towel as a blanket.

She used to leave us at the library after school, or our grandparents, or the park (at one point our school was a 30 minute drive) and we'd just have to wait, if we could call her she probably wouldn't answer, if she answered she'd lie and say she was on her way.

One summer she'd go out with a friend every few nights at probably 9 pm, 1 am would roll around and my younger brother would refuse to go to bed until she was home so we'd call her. Never picked up. That whole summer she'd always say that she didn't realize her phone was dead, it was on do not disturb and she didn't realize, it was being weird and she didn't get the call. Every single time.

While a lot of this is pretty small, as I child I literally only knew like 4 people so it was a huge thing that I suddenly couldn't contact my only person.

Anyways that's the (maybe) whole list of reasons why I now cry when I have to be alone, why not being able to talk to people makes me so upset, why friends not responding for weeks makes me so upset, why people needing space feels like a punishment, why not being able to contact people makes me panic, why I have Mommy issues, why I have daddy issues, and probably some other stuff, attachment issues?

I don't know why it all affected me so much but it really did

[doweirdthings]

The Women on the Parkway - pt 1

Pt. 2

I hate driving. Even before the incident, I hated driving. I guess HATE is a strong word, but I could never understand people who find it relaxing - a hobby even. Something they prefer to do. At best, I think it’s boring; at worst terrifying. But just for the normal reasons, you know? Like “I’m driving a giant hunk of metal and with one wrong twitch of my hand I could kill myself, everyone with me, and a lot of people around me” terrifying kind of way.

Not this… other way.

Ok so basically, I was already in a situation I was uncomfortable with. I was driving from New Orleans up to Boone, North Carolina, a small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains for spring break.... Which, for reference, is a 12-hour road trip. Not only that, but my partner, Sam, was coming with me to meet my family for the first time. Ipso facto… a lot of anxiety and sweating was happening. 

The only good thing about this situation was we could split the drive up into manageable 3-hour legs for each of us to drive twice. My parents moved to Boone a year ago. Even though I had only been up there once before, that was one more time than Sam had been, so we agreed I’d take the last 3-hour leg winding through the mountains.

Most of the drive was completely uneventful (well, driving through Atlanta was a bitch, but if you’ve ever driven through Atlanta, you know why). We talked, listened to music, got a bunch of junk food… normal road trip stuff. The sun went down around 7pm, so the last bit of the trip was plunged into darkness, but that still wasn’t a problem. 

In fact, I used to prefer driving at night strangely enough. Not anymore though.

So we’re toodling along, stopped at a gas station around 6:45 to fill up, and kept on trucking. After that it was mostly small towns; I turned onto the Blue Ridge Parkway soon after. I don’t know if this is common knowledge, but the Parkway is known for being gorgeous. People come to North Carolina just to drive on it. Weird people, of course - people who actually like driving. But at night, it's treacherous. The road is built right into the side of the mountains for the most part. There’s a hard rock wall on one side and a steep drop on the other with tons of sharp curves. I was a bundle of nerves.

Man, I wish Sam hadn’t fallen asleep.

I mean, I get it. It was a long day and I had slept through their last driving shift, but still. I really really wish they hadn’t fallen asleep.

Every so often, I’d see another car driving behind me to turn off onto one of the side roads or whizz by to pass me (I drive slow, especially at night, and especially on the Parkway at night). But after almost an hour and I hadn’t seen anyone else I started to feel that something was off. Yeah, it was dark as hell, but it was only 8 o’clock? People live out here. They go places. Not a lot of people… but… I don’t know… I couldn’t help but wonder, where was everyone?

Either way, I took it as an opportunity to flip on the high beams. I hadn’t turned them on yet because a car would come by every five to ten minutes and I didn’t want to blind them. The tree branches were so white and bright; it was unsettling. Like looking at huge, pallid veins trapping us in the mountains. That, plus the extreme lack of other people… I was starting to feel spooked. I turned the music up as loud as it would go, hoping that it would wake Sam up. It didn’t work but I wasn’t too surprised – they’re a heavy sleeper.

I kept driving with the high beams on and the music up for what felt like another hour at least… but still no other cars. Not to mention, I should’ve been at my parents house by then. Or at least closer to it? But my estimated time of arrival displayed mockingly on my phone’s GPS wouldn’t budge. It just stayed stuck at “ETA: 1 hour 6 minutes”. I don’t know when it stopped counting down, but once I noticed, I started to pay closer attention to my surroundings. I know that long, winding roads and forests are not distinctive landmarks, but after a while, I could swear I was driving past the same areas over and over and over again.

At this point, I was freaking out. I kept shaking Sam’s leg TRYING to get them to wake up, but they were completely out of it. Their eyes rolled completely back into their sockets and their head lolled from side to side in a sickeningly limp way. I was about to yell their name until I saw something in the corner of my eye that made my mouth go dry and my blood run cold.

A woman. Just standing between the trees. For some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to look straight at her, but just the knowledge of her presence sent my heart beating so hard that it was all I could hear. Once I saw her, I couldn’t unsee her. I was always aware that she was there, barely visible out of the corner of my eye. From the details I was able to make out, she was in a long gingham dress and an old-fashioned bonnet - what I’d imagined women wore on the Oregon Trail or something. All of my more rational fears of crashing or driving off a cliff dissipated and all I wanted to do was get away from her. As I pressed my foot down on the gas pedal, I watched our MPH tick up on the speedometer.

But it was like I was running from the moon. No matter how fast I drove, she was there. The trees flew by, I ripped around curves, but she was still there. Standing there. Staring at me.

I turned off my high beams because I didn’t want her to be able to see me better than she already could… but right before I flipped them off, I caught a glimpse of her straight on as I turned a corner.

[thetimecrystal]

the concert report to end all concert reports

and i am back!!! without thinking, back in like... december and january, i got thursday passes for øya festivalen (the 10th) because blur was headlining and tickets for depeche mode at telenor arena (the 11th)

so noel and i got a hotel room and made a trip™ out of it! but read on as i try to make sense of what has just happened to me (i probably slept a combined 10 hours over the nights and just took a nap. bear with me lmfao)

so øya first! we headed in about midday because we're probably seeing someone who went on super early back here, but the first artist we saw was ARY, a norwegian singer who noel quite likes! and y'all... she was SO GOOD. we're quite used to seeing bands, so seeing someone with choreo and hairography had my jaw on the floor. 100% recommend to check her out, the bass on her set probably shook the anxiety out of my body.

after that, we got some food and went exploring. øya is fucking massive, i'd assume one of norway's biggest festivals next to tons of rock, and there were so many artists to see and so many booths to go to.

as we were exploring, we headed towards the amphitheater where blur was gonna perform. there we heard pusha t really clearly and y'all, this man was not playing around. i was so fucking amazed at him and kept just bopping around. i'm definitely gonna check out some of his music after this because wow...

then it was waiting! i did post a photo quite close to the stage, but ended up sitting in the disabled section with noel because i had a panic attack standing in the crowd alone (and that was before EVERYONE decided to come stand by the stage).

but fucking hell. blur was incredible!!! i had so, so, so much fun dancing in my seat and yelling along to the lyrics for songs like beetlebum or girls and boys (for the first time ever, i actually managed to sing the chorus to that song KSJHJGKJG) but also have a great time hearing songs like the narcissist or the universial live. they played a varied, energetic set of songs and just. wow. the amount of energy damon has on stage is so fucking infectious.

he did actually kind of call us out lmfao, by saying "you and we both have been quite mellow" and then announcing that he was taking his jacket off twice, because he didn't get enough of a cheer. and like. the way he was jumping around stage and screaming and going all the fucking way, while still sounding great... god i almost want to see gorillaz more now.... also, i know i am cold and was sitting so of course i was gonna freeze, but alex was in shorts and a t-shirt? dude??? w h a t.

my first festival experience went really well! we didn't get to see the most artists, but there was people everywhere so like. it happens. (shrug) i still had a great time!!!

day two!!! i got to sleep a bit more after hotel breakie, plus i shotgunned a monster, so i was quite awake for the depeche mode show. i am not entirely sure it sold out, but the arena was really full.

now. telenor arena is not known for its sound, and we heard that really well. both the warmup, hope, and depeche mode sounded really sharp and loud in an unflattering way, even with fancy earplugs... but!! both were fucking great!

we checked out hope beforehand, to know what was up, and they're this cool post-rock group with an incredible vocalist. incredible show as well!

and once again. wow. depeche mode was also SO GOOD. dave gahan sung and spun himself to be one of my favourite front people because the charisma... the stage presence... the VOICE. incredible, talented, wonderful, amazing, great, lovely, sounds exactly like the records.

plus their setlist was also stacked. getting to hear i feel you, precious, ghosts again, STRIPPED?? and enjoy the silence live... besties i was LIVINGGGG. even tho we went before the encore, because i don't have the best experiences leaving a big arena like that, the setlist was still so good (yes, we missed out on just can't get enough and personal jesus but c'est la vie)

now, if you were at either place and saw someone with bright red hair and a ginger, about the same height and both wearing all black, that was probably us! i hope you had a good time as well!!

because yeah, it was exhausting and not always the most fun of times, but i have had two great days and i am ready to sleep for a week...

photos (although they're not the best) incoming when i have more brain!