#i woke up this morning and it was buzzing around the living room

[little-glitter-kitten]

I Think The Apple's Rotten Right To The Core Pt 2

Prologue: As your brother, Caleb always took great pride in the fact that he was always the first to notice the little things when it came to you. When you were hurt, when you were sick, when you were lying or keeping a secret. What will Caleb do when he notices just how much his precious little adopted sister has grown? Can he fight the filthy, rotten feelings threatening to ruin all he holds dear?

(Caleb x Reader, no use of 'Y/N, AFAB reader, size difference.)

TW: Pseudo-incest, dub-con, possessive Caleb, Obsessed Caleb, Yandere Caleb.

YOUR POV:

The TV played quietly to itself in the background as the grandfather clock in the corner chimed 11 P.M. but you and Caleb were too distracted to notice the late hour. Grandma had retired to bed hours ago, leaving you and your adoptive brother to catch up in the living room.

"...needless to say, he didn't last long." Caleb laughed as he regaled you with tales of his work in The Deepspace Aviation Administration.

"I can't imagine he would." You laughed next to him on the cosy couch. "Who would ever trust him to fly again?"

Caleb's smile dropped slowly as his eyes drifted to where your hand was resting on your midsection.

"Something wrong?"

"Hmm?" You realised where his gaze was and removed your hand that had been placing pressure on your belly. "No, I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me, Mèimei." He warned, with a slight smirk. "You never did know when you to slow down with my braised chicken wings."

Chuckling, he scooted down to rest his head on the arm of the couch and stretch his legs.

"Come here." Caleb smiled softly, patting his pectoral for you, indicating for you to rest your head.

Carefully, you positioned yourself to lay down on your side next to him, your head on his chest and leg bent over his. Bringing his long arm around you, he pulled you in close as his hand slide over your hip to rub soft circle on your tummy.

"It's not my fault your cooking is so delicious." You groused. "I have to make the most of it because I don't know when I'll be able to taste it again."

Yawning, you closed your eyes and relaxed into his soothing ministrations when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Fishing it out, you looked at who on earth would be texting you at this time of night.

"Zayne?" You felt Caleb's chest rumble under your ear. "You still talk to him?"

"Of course. He's one of my closest friends." Before you could unlock your phone it was snatched from your hand. "Hey!"

"Uh-uh" Caleb chided. "Your tired and need your rest. He can wait until morning."

You watched as Caleb slid your phone into his pocket. He must have been dead-set on not returning it as his hand stayed in his pocket, your phone held captive in his grasp.

Too tired to argue, you gave him a slight "hmph" but relaxed even more into his touch.

"Good night, Gēge."

"Good night, pipsqueak." You heard him respond, your eyes drifting shut.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you woke to find yourself tucked away in your childhood bedroom. You smiled to yourself, realising Caleb must have carried you back to your bed after falling asleep on the couch.

'Some things never change.' You smile, remembering all those times as kids when he would have to do the same thing.

You hauled yourself from the warmth of your bed and padded your way over to your bag to grab some clothes before making your way to the door of the bathroom that you and Caleb and shared.

Stripping off, you throw your clothes in the dirty clothes basket and step into the shower to get ready for the day ahead.

Making your way downstairs half an hour later, you lean against the door and take a moment to appreciate the scene before you. Your Grandmother and your your big brother, sitting at the breakfast table, completete with all your favourite dishes, talking quietly and laughing.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Caleb smirks. "Sleep well?"

"Amazing, thank you." You said taking and seat and plating up some waffles. "How about you?"

"Good. I've just been stuck here waiting for somebody to quit hogging the shower." He says, clearing his plate and cutlery. "Now if you'll excuse me, I finally get to go for a shower."

You scoff but ignore the bait, instead choosing to talk with Grandma about the day ahead.

Eventually, you lean back, your belly full and sigh contentedly.

"Dear, would you mind grabbing the dirty laundry from the bathroom?" Your Grandmother asks. "Put it in the washing machine and I'll do a load of washing."

"Sure thing." You say, getting up from your chair and making your way upstairs.

You knock on the bathroom door, ensuring Caleb isn't still inside. When no answer comes, you make your way in and grab the dirty clothes basket before heading back down stairs to the laundry.

Absent-mindedly, you begin throwing yours and Caleb dirty clothes in the washing machine when you suddenly frown. You take all the dirty clothes from the machine and begin to take stock.

'Jeans, top, bra...' You sort through them with a confused look. 'Where are my panties?'

You threw the clothes back in the machine and retraced your steps back upstairs, intent on finding the missing delicates that you assumed had fallen on the floor.

"Watch it, pipsqueak." Your brother grunts as you run head first into him on the landing.

"Sorry, I was looking for..." You trail off.

"Looking for your hairbrush? So you should be, what a rats nest."

Annoyed at his teasing, you push his chest, when he wrestles you into a headlock. Laughing, you are both snapped out of it when your Grandma calls up the stairs.

"You two, remember Mrs Lee, from next door?" She aks, her face smiles but with a hint of something you couldn't quite place.

Looking down, you see your Grandma and the lady from next door at the bottom of the stairs. You feel Caleb's arms slip from your body as you both greet the woman.

"Caleb, could you help me with something?" Grandma asks, ushering Mrs Lee into the kitchen as Caleb makes his way down.

Turning around, you go into the bathroom, determined to find your missing clothing item.

[jin-likes-to-write]

🐈 Alpine to the Rescue! Bucky Barnes Drabble

Just a short drabble of Bucky and Alpine, I can just see him using Alpine to hunt bugs off ceilings and such and this came to mine. I wrote it while working so no editing done.

Bucky got a buzz from his a text message from his girlfriend. He was use to random photos from her but but normally they are better quality. It was a photo of a spider, it was blurry and only showed half of the arachnid. But there was a spider - perhaps a jumping spider from a glance.

It was 3 am, why were they up at this time when they had work the next morning? Sitting in his living room in the middle of a pile of blankets, Bucky typed out a quick reply as the TV station started reporting the night recaps.

- On my way, doll we will be like 20 mins.

- Bringing the secret weapon?

- Yes, Alpine is coming.

- You're my hero.

Y/N a nurse at the Avenger Tower who has dealt with many a nightmare from working there was terrified of any spider. They had been dating for a while now, both completing each other taking slow steps as he didn't want to mess things up.

Trusting was hard.

Shaking the doubts and fears out of his head, Bucky knew she cared for him just as much as he cared for her. She was so understanding and accepting of his trauma and needed to take things slow.

So waking up at 3 am was not a bother for him, to drive across town to her place to take care of a spider.

Hell, she woke up at 4 am last week to help him, he had a PTSD nightmare that sent him reeling. She spent the whole time cleaning the mess he made in a fugue state while he was in the shower trying to calm down.

Getting to his feet, grabbing the cleanest Henley out of the pile, and pulling it on as he stepped on a squeaky toy, Bucky looked around for Alpine.

"Alpine. . .we have a mission," Bucky called out for the small white kitten.

There was a sleepy trill from one of the little box house in the four tier cat tree, a set of bright green eyes shined in the light. Alpine slowly came out of the house and stretched with a Flerken like yawn.

20 minutes later. . .

Bucky arrived at Y/N's apartment, it was in the back of the complex that was only a few minutes from the Avengers Tower. Grabbing his spare key, he adjusted the curious kitten on his shoulders to his left side.

"Doll, your saviours have arrived." Bucky called out as Alpine let out a loud chirping meow.

Alpine twined around Bucky's shoulders as he walked into the apartment, he could hear the shower running in the bathroom at the back of the residence. Heading towards the bathroom, he knocked.

"Finally the water is cold now!" He heard her shout in relief.

Entering the bathroom, it was small and cluttered with all of her self care products and random medical supplies that made their way home. Bucky's girlfirend was pinned in the corner of her shower, the aquarium themed shower curtian pulled back wrapped around her as a shield staring at the spider against the wall under the shower head.

"Let's turn off the water first. . ." Bucky chuckled reaching forward turning off the water, the cool water dampening the back of his hand.

"Thank --- it's moving!" She started as the spider darted up the wall to the ceiling in a blur.

Panicking, she started to slip in the tub. In a quick move Bucky steadied her with his Wakanda arm, Vibranium fingers pressing firmly on her side keeping her from falling. Alpine use to traveling with Bucky and on his shoulders moved to his right side keeping tail wrapped around his neck.

"You only need to fall for me once, doll." Bucky crooned as he helped Y/N out of the shower wrapping her in the bath robe.

"Sshh, you flirt the spider!" She let out a panic shriek as the spider skittered towards the sink area.

"Okay, Alpine you're up." Bucky jostled his shoulder a little grabbing the cat in hands.

Lifting Alpine up, mimicking the Lion King pose Bucky held the kitten up high. Eagerly Alpine went for the spider smacking it with large paws catching it easily. The mighty hunter took down the spider with ease.

“My hero!” She cooed to Alpine reaching over to the proud kitten scratching his chin.

Bucky gave a teasing pout as Alpine purred and grilled enjoying the praises. Spotting the cute pout you reached up on tiptoe placing a tender kiss on his lips.

“Thanks for coming over this late at night Bucky you are the best. You two care to stay the night?” She offered a coy smile on her lips.

“If I hadn’t seen the spider myself I would have thought you were inviting me over just to invite me into your bed.” Bucky mused giving her a wink moving to give space in the bathroom.

[roseworth]

i may be the stupidest person alive

so im afraid of bugs right. and there was a HUGE bug in my apt today and i freaked out and spent like 5 minutes trying to get it out. and after i got it out i thought it might be a hornet so i googled pictures of hornets to compare. but what i didnt consider was that a close-up picture of a hornet would scare the shit out of me. so i pull up the picture and freak out again and threw my phone across the room instinctively. so i gave up on finding out what kind of bug it was and started doing something else. THEN 10 minutes later i open my phone to find out i never actually closed the picture of the hornet so i got scared AGAIN and throw my phone again. and i just realized that when i threw my phone i still didnt close the picture so ive been scared to open it again bc i dont wanna see it

[ohdeerfully]

alastor request HAI can it be based on the fact that alastor doesn't sleep, and it's his lover finding out that petting his ears during cuddling makes him fall asleep.

thank you for your service

yess i love sleepy alastor thank u so much anon :D!!

Goodmorning, Love

Alastor x Reader (fluff) TW: none! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You were well aware of the Radio Demon’s sleep habits. Or, well, lack of sleep habits. You often spent nights in his room, where he would sit with you in bed until you fell asleep and go do whatever the hell he gets up to late at night. You always woke up in an empty room, and often so in the middle of the night, struggling to rest again as a greedy tightness gripped your chest in worry and disappointment.

You understood, though, and tried your best not to let it get to you that you didn’t have his warm body next to you when you woke every morning. But you couldn’t help that twinge of sadness. You weren’t particularly needy or clingy, but would it kill him to stay in bed with you for a single night? And to have a slice of domestic bliss as you woke up?

Obviously. 

You roll your eyes as you lay, staring up at the ceiling. You had just gotten ready for bed, and now waited for said demon to join you for a few hours. Your fingers tapped, impatient, against your chest as you hummed absentmindedly.

“How lovely,” You heard him speak. Tickles of that radio static that always followed him clung to your exposed skin, which was signal enough that he had entered the room had he not announced himself. “What a siren you are, luring me here with that hum of yours.”

You smiled slightly at his comment, scooching over slightly to encourage him over. He obliged, joining you under the covers. He still wore his usual outfit, which made sense considering his tendency to go away all night. You purse your lips at the thought, slightly chewing on the skin.

“Why the face?” Of course he noticed your expression. He always noticed when any emotion tickled your face. You appreciated the genuine tone in his voice, the typical buzz of radio barely detectable in his words. He always got a little softer and kinder when he was alone with you like this.

You appreciated nights with him, being able to see a side of him that nobody else would live to spread word of. You enjoyed feeling a little special, especially to somebody like him.

“Do you think you could stay in,” You asked cautiously, fiddling with your hands as you inched closer to him, pressing your body against his. Even laying, he still seemed much taller than you. You gingerly guided his head down, against your chest as you spoke, hoping the multitasking would keep him from sitting up and rejecting your intimate gestures. “Just for a night. I miss you all night long.”

He allowed his head to lay against you. He did feel tense, of course, letting the back of his head be exposed in this manner as he lay vulnerable on you. It was a strange feeling, but not one he cared to consider for too long. 

“(Y/N),” He began with a sigh. “It’s impossible for me to get much done during the day, what with all the running around Charlie does. Somebody has to keep an eye on that young princess. I prefer to stay awake to get my own errands done at night.” 

I know that, you wanted to say and interrupt his explanatory ramble. You wanted to beg him to understand, just this once. You held in a sigh, watching as his head gently rose and fell with every breath you took. Maybe you should just take this submission from him as good enough.

You gingerly began tangling your fingers through his red hair, brushing out any kinks he may have gotten throughout the day. His tense body seemed to ease slightly, becoming more and more relaxed as you weaved your fingers through the locks.

“You have really soft hair, Al,” You commented, changing the subject. You figured there was no use convincing him. You let your fingers lightly trail upwards, up to his ears. You grazed them slightly with a finger. You touched again. When he made no motion of dislike, you fully began rubbing them. Petting him. You smiled to yourself at the idea of petting the feared Radio Demon. “And your ears are even softer.”

“I try to take care of myself,” He responded proudly. There was another hint of something in his voice, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. But it seemed heavy. “A well groomed man is a successful one.” You absentmindedly agreed as you stroked the velvety fur of his ears, switching back and forth between them and his hair. You had a preference for the ears, though.

You sighed and began humming quietly again. He rarely got so… comfortable, even around you. He always had some sort of guard up, always had his shoulders squared. He almost never became so… loose and vulnerable.

You noticed the clippings of radio frequency had stopped, which was a noise that was ever present in his wake. You had a suspicion why it disappeared, a small grin forming on your face.

Yes, the Radio Demon never slept. But that was a choice he made, not a curse that prevented him. Even demons get tired. You don’t know how Alastor makes it day by day without a wink of rest, but it was apparent that exhaustion had built up in him. He just needed to relax for a second.

You graced your fingers over his fringe, and craned your neck in a way to get a glance at his face. Yeah, you were right. 

He laid there, eyes shut, features relaxed with the lightest grin playing on his face. Even in sleep, you complained. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was the sound of his deep, slow breathing and occasional twitch of his velvety ears. You briefly wondered what the Radio Demon would dream about.

Would he be aggravated with you when he woke up, realizing you had practically cast a sleep spell on him? You didn’t, but the rate of which exhaustion took over may as well have been some sort of magic.

You shut your own heavy eyes, exhaling lightly as you continued to comfort yourself with the texture of his fur and hair. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You craned your arms and neck as consciousness came back to you, but an unfamiliar weight kept you from getting that good stretch in. Momentarily confused, you blinked open and looked down.

Red and black hair, more of a mess than usual, still took place on your torso. This was a first, and your chest felt like exploding with the glee of seeing Alastor still resting with you. He somehow looked even more relaxed than the night before, his cheek flush against your stomach, squishing his lips up slightly. A light grin was still there.

You gently brushed your fingers over his face, trailing a line around his features with an index finger. His eyes squeezed for a moment, and that static ambience of his slowly, quietly, returned. It was a noise that you had learned to find comfort in. He slowly opened his red eyes, a confused and sleepy daze clouding them. There was a wrinkle in his brow as he roughly propped himself up with an elbow, looking up at you with a furrowed expression.

“(Y/N)..?” He trailed, pausing to take in a shuddering morning yawn through a confused smirk. “Did I… Dear, what time is it?”

You looked at him tenderly. Oh, how cute he was, sleepy like this. Composed like an exhausted kid. Something even you have never seen before.

“Yeah,” You responded to his unspoken question. “It’s probably seven a.m. or so. I dunno.” There wasn’t a clock in your immediate line of sight.” “A.m. …” He said slowly. He sat up fully, looking down in disappointment at his wrinkled day wear. He quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes and managed to bring some composure to himself, but that lick of exhaustion was still prominent. Especially under his eyes.

“Yeah,” You said again, a light chuckle following. “Goodmorning, Al.”

He wasn’t obviously upset, it seemed. Though he probably was too tired to think about it too much yet. Maybe later.

“Well… Goodmorning, love.” He responded, still with a hint of confusion in his voice. “I suppose I accepted your plea from last night.” He brushed at his clothes while he spoke, trying to flatten out the creases that were brought on through a night of rest.

“Maybe more often?” You asked, twiddling your thumbs in anticipation. You already knew the answer, but it was okay. You knew how to keep him in now. You mischievously smirked as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Unlikely.”

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓎

This is so dumb nd self indulgent

Warnings: all fluff, pet names (mama once), dad!rafe

Before the baby, Rafe hated Mother’s Day. The holiday always reminded him of the mother he never had, her death always lingering in the back of his head.

After you, after he held his own baby in his hands, his life changed completely. He was sober, he was happy.

It was your first Mother’s Day as a mother, and Rafe knew he had to make it the best.

So, he called up the pilot to his father’s plane, and arranged a flight. He put all his gifts in his suitcases, stuffing them away into the plane a day before.

You sat on the couch, the tv buzzing on in the back while your baby crawled around, grabbing onto the edge of the table and raising herself up.

You watched her with a small smile, encouraging her to stand up and helping her. When she stood up with your help, you smiled widely, happy for her.

She quickly fell back onto her bottom, a small giggle escaping her. Rafe walked down the stairs quickly, pulling his suit jacket over his shoulders.

“Hey, baby, she stood up again.”

He smiled at you, coming up to the both of you. He gave her a quick kiss on the crown of her head and cupped your cheeks, giving you a kiss.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay.” He murmured when he pulled away.

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll see you later, I love you both.” He said, going back to the front door, leaving the house and locking the door behind him.

You sighed as you looked back at her.

“I think your daddy works too much sometimes.” You told her when she looked back at you, attempting to climb back onto the couch with you. You picked her up, putting her in your lap as the both of you watched the tv screen.

——

You fell asleep as soon as you put her to bed, exhausted after the long day. Rafe came home to the lights off and the house silent.

With a sigh, he kicked off his shoes, and his suit jacket, and went into the nursery for a moment. Making sure she was asleep. He put the bouquet he got you on the table in the living room, with a little card under it.

After a little, he made it into the room. He used his phone flashlight as a light, not wanting to wake you up.

He pulled out a suitcase from under the bed as quietly as he could, opening it and looking at your clothes.

He packed them for you, all while doing it silently so you could sleep. He had managed to get Wheezie to babysit for him while you both were gone.

He trusted Wheezie more than he trusted Rose or Sarah with her. She’s 15 now, she could handle the house alone.

Plus, she loved doing it. And she was getting paid, so she didn’t mind too much. Everything was stocked up for her already.

The next morning, he got up early, trying his best not to wake you again as he snuck out the room.

“What are you up to?” A voice said in the hall, making him stop in his tracks.

“Shit. You scared me.” He laughed quietly, seeing Wheezie in front of him.

She smiled slightly, a cup of water in her hand. She began to walk back up to the stairs when he called after her.

“Wheeze, could you actually help me with something?”

—-

You woke up to the smell of pancakes. Odd. You furrowed your eyebrows, wiping away the sleep from your eyes as you picked up your phone and looked at the time.

It was 12! You quickly got up, and made your way into the nursery. But she wasn’t there.

You furrowed your eyebrows, and then you heard a loud giggle come from the kitchen.

You noticed some flowers on the table, picking them up along with a card and reading it.

“Happy Mother’s Day :) come to the kitchen”

You slowly made your way to the kitchen, flowers in your hand. You watched Rafe spoon feed her, a small smile on his face.

You came up to them, Rafe looking up at you and giving you a kiss. “Happy Mother’s Day, mama. I made you pancakes. And all your stuff is already packed.” He said, looking at you for your reaction.

“Thank yo- packed? Packed for what?” You realized, sitting down next to them.

“We’re going to Nassau today. Just me and you.”

“Wait, seriously?” You asked, excitement bubbling now.

“Yeah, we have a few hours.”

“Who’s gonna watch her?” You asked, looking at your baby and back at him.

“I got Wheezie to.”

“Oh, Thank you!” You practically squealed, happy to finally have a break for once. You gave him another kiss, your baby blubbering on as you leaned into the kiss.

[strawberryhoney11]

ONLY ANGEL ౨ৎ

Drew Starkey x Reader

You are just making your way into the industry, interviewing on red carpets and your podcast. When your interview with Drew Starkey goes viral, suddenly everything changes.

part two!!

You stepped out of the hotel shower, drying your hair with one of the soft fancy towels and adorned in a robe. It was the morning after the big event and you were still buzzing from everything that happened. Madelyn Cline told you she had been obsessed with your videos for a while now and found you to be so cool. When you first heard this you couldn’t believe it, you were still shocked even now.

Suddenly, your phone chimes from the other room and you pull it off of the white sheets.

Have you been on TikTok?

You received a message from your best friend from college, as you still keep in touch today. It was like she was experiencing this all with you, becoming the version of yourself you had always envisioned.

No. Just woke up, why?

GIRL, your vid with Drew Starkey is blowing up…

What? Really?

Immediately, you open up the app. Sure enough, there are thousands of notifications in your inbox all for the same video. Thinking back on your interaction with Drew made you have the same nervous pit in your stomach. You found yourself questioning if it actually happened. But this video was proof and the recognition you were receiving was hard to ignore.

You opened the comments on the paused video, unable to bring yourself to listen to your voice or watch yourself flail around in front of Drew.

Drew is crazy for the “I’ll be waiting”

This girl is living my dream…

THIS FEELS ILLEGAL TO WATCH LIKE HELLO

The comments only speed up your heartbeat. Everyone seems to think that you and Drew have chemistry. As much as it rattles you, it also confirms that it wasn’t all in your head. You felt it, just as much as all of these people. Could this mean that he felt something too?

SORRY did he just grab her microphone???

She's better than me because if that man was in front of me…

The wave at the end would have had me on my knees

OH I love this for her!

WHO IS THIS GIRL AND WHY IS DREW FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FOR HER?

You can’t help but laugh as you read the responses. The fact that everyone thinks you actually have a shot with him is amusing to you. You eventually have to set your phone down instead of scrolling continuously.

But when you hear another chime, this time from Instagram, you have to see what it is. Your breath catches as you read who it is from, Madelyn Cline. She DM’d you! Your eyes grew wide as you stared at the message.

Hi! I would love to invite you out with the cast and me tonight! Would you be interested?

You didn’t know if you were stuck in a dream or hallucinating. This was insane. You thought that the biggest opportunity you had ever gotten was to interview the cast on the red carpet but now you weren’t so sure. With this invitation, you had to bring your hand over your mouth to stop an excited scream from escaping.

Oh my gosh, hi! I would be so glad to take you up on your offer! Thank you!

You hit send on the message, exhaling a breath of excitement. She answered right away.

Awesome! We’re having dinner at this really nice place and maybe going to a bar afterwards. I’ll send the details!

Thank you, again! I feel so honored.

Of course! All of us girls are excited to hang out with you and don’t worry, you won’t be the only person invited who isn’t a part of the show. So, no pressure!

Oh okay, good! Can’t wait!

You shut your phone off, falling back onto the bed sheets, your wet hair draped across the duvet. All of this excitement and nerves had your stomach twisted in knots, but you couldn’t complain. This was something straight out of a movie. You thought this couldn’t possibly be your life, but it is. These things just didn’t happen to girls like you.

You draped your arm over your eyes, breathing out a laugh.

Another notification popped up on your phone, you held it in front of you in the morning light.

*Drew Starkey Started Following You

You dropped your phone by your side, audibly exclaiming now. This was a lot to take in, in the few hours after you woke up. This was crazy. Drew knows who you are and he now follows you on Instagram.

What more could a girl ask for?

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Twelve.

previous (chapter eleven). series masterlist. the playlist.

chapter synopsis - And throughout it all, no matter what - there was Lacie.

pairing - dad’s bestfriend!bucky barnes x female reader - soulmate au

warnings - cursing. alcohol consumption.

word count - 5k

authors note - to all my girls who have their girlfriends backs no matter what, who wipe their tears and fix their hair and tell them everything is going to be okay, who will always pick up the phone regardless of the time or place… this one’s for you.

masterlist. inbox.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Honey, please. You’re making me nervous.”

You foot stills where it was banging against the cabinet, the words halting your movements. You’re perched up on your kitchen counter, watching as Bucky makes you breakfast, both of you illuminated by the morning light. He’s shirtless and wearing short shorts that show off the tanned, corded muscle of his thighs, skin all sun kissed and begging to be bitten.

There’s an energy coursing through your veins, prickly and warm. You woke up feeling like this - uneasy and on edge - like a grey cloud was looming in the distance, getting closer with every passing minute.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he moves to stand between your legs, warm hands splaying across your thighs.

“I’m fine,” you answer a little too quickly, avoiding his gaze. “S’nothing.”

Bucky takes your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he murmurs. “I can feel your anxiety in my chest. If it’s bad for me, it’s gotta be awful for you.”

“I don’t know what it is,” you whisper, playing with his fingers. “Just woke up with this… feeling.”

He leans forward to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, lips warm on your skin.

“Get dressed.”

“What?”

“Get dressed, baby. We’re going out.”

“But what about breakfast?”

“We’re bringing breakfast with us.”

You stare at him for a moment, before nodding and hopping down from the counter. Padding across the kitchen tiles, you make your way into your room, your nerves too fried to worry about what your soulmate has planned.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The world passes by in a blur as Bucky speeds down the road, the steady roar of his truck soothing the buzzing in your bones. You arrive at your destination before you know it, coming to a stop next to a familiar path.

“Our house,” you breathe, looking out over the coastal plot.

“Our soon to be house,” he smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulders to pull you into him. “Thought we could have a breakfast picnic.”

“That sounds… perfect.”

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the melodic rhythm of his heartbeat to settle your nerves.

“Come on, honey baby. Let’s put down a blanket and eat while the everything is still warm.”

You get settled on the old, worn throw that Bucky keeps in his trunk, looking out at the ocean view that you’ll be blessed with for the rest of your lives.

“I may be the baker here, but you’re a damn good cook, sir.”

You practically moan as you bite into the sandwich, rolling your eyes when your soulmate can’t help but laugh at you.

“You blow up my ego too much.”

“Well, someone has to, I suppose.”

He shoves you in the shoulder lightly, chortling at your dramatics when you throw yourself backwards.

“If you’re done with the theatrics, there’s something I want to show you.”

“Fine, fine,” you relent, sitting up and finishing your breakfast. “Show me, Buck.”

He reaches into the picnic basket, pulling out rolls of paper and unfurling them in front of you.

“Official house blueprints. Got them all printed properly so we can mark them up and make adjustments.”

You run your fingers over the designs, trying to picture it all in your head. You trace journeys through the house - living room to kitchen, bedroom to bathroom, front door to backyard. Bucky watches you, gentle smile etched almost permanently onto his face. He wishes, for a moment, that he could speed up time - that the house was built and finished, so he can swim in the pool with you on Sunday mornings, stay up late watching movies on Friday nights, listen for your car pulling into the driveway after a long day at work in the week.

“I’ve been thinking about the little things, you know. That I’d want in the house.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smile, all hopeful and content, and every worry Bucky has ever had vanishes into thin air.

“Tell me.”

“I think we’re - I’m - gonna need a pantry. If I try new recipes at home, I have to buy copious amounts of flour and sugar and all that jazz. I think a pantry would make everything a little bit easier.”

Bucky pores over the blueprints, pointing at a certain area of the spacious kitchen.

“We could add one here? Build the walls into this cove section, close it off.”

“Perfect,” you grin, leaning over to kiss him sweetly.

He rests his forehead against yours for a moment, allowing the warmth of your skin to seep into his.

“Also,” you murmur against his lips, “I was thinking that we should make sure the shower is plenty big enough for two people. Hmm?”

Your soulmate groans, closing the gap between you to press a kiss to your smirk.

“I agree,” he hums. “I couldn’t agree more, actually. Might put a bench in there for good measure too. You know, just in case.”

You can’t help but chuckle, pecking him again before sitting back to get a better look at the designs.

“As long as I’ve got lots of kitchen storage and countertop space, I’m happy. Everything else is a bonus. I could live anywhere with you and be happy, actually.”

Bucky’s looking at you like you are the sun, bright and blinding and brilliant. A couple of years ago, if anyone looked at you like this, you’d have shied away, shrunk into the shell of yourself to avoid the gaze. Now, you revel in it, soaking up the warmth that being the centre of someone’s universe brings.

“I love you so much, my honey. And I can’t wait to build you a house.”

“I love you so much. And I can’t believe you’re going to build me a house. I mean, how many girls can say that?”

You shift over to slot yourself into Bucky’s side, the heavy weight of his arm around you anchoring you to the present. Resting your head on his shoulder, you try to exhale all of your anxiety, focusing on the coastal view instead.

Your eyes are drifting closed when you’re startled back to reality by your phone ringing. You grab it and show it to Bucky, who smiles at the sweet picture of Lacie that lights up the screen.

“Hey, Lace.”

“Hi babe! Has your Mom texted you?”

“Not this morning, no. Why?”

“I just bumped into her in the grocery store, and she invited me over for dinner tonight. She said we’re well overdue a catch up, just like old times. I figured she’d call or text you when she got home.”

“Ugh, that sounds amazing. I’ll call her in a minute and double check the details, but… I can’t wait.”

“Yes, call her! I’ll bring both red and white wine, just to be sure. I’m so excited you wouldn’t even believe. It’s been too long since I’ve spent the evening with my second family.”

“And I’ll make you that cake you like for dessert, the raspberry and peach one.”

“Eeee! You’re the best. See you tonight, babe!”

“See you tonight, Lace. Love you.”

“Love you too. Later!”

You’re grinning when you press the red button to hang up, content with the sudden addition of evening plans. Bucky presses a kiss into your hair, happy to see you the most relaxed you’ve been all morning.

“You wanna join us, Buck?”

He tightens his arms around you, pulling you in so you’re sat in between his legs, back to his chest.

“No, it’s okay. It’ll do you good to have a night with your family, honey. Besides, I have like two weeks worth of laundry to catch up on.”

“Stop it. I’ll be having fun with my best friend and you’ll be… doing laundry?”

“Might clean my oven, too.”

“Stop,” you laugh, leaning back into him. “You’re making me feel guilty.”

“Well,” he hums against your ear, “seeing as they’re stealing you away from me tonight… how about we go sailing today? Promise I’ll get you back in time to get ready for dinner.”

“I’d love that,” you breathe, twisting around to plant a kiss on his stubbled jaw. “We haven’t been out on the boat in forever.”

“Then let’s go, honey girl. The ocean awaits us.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Being on the sailboat with Bucky takes you right back to the day after your Tethering.

Salty breeze whipping through your clothes, sun beating down on your skin, wooden boards creaking beneath your feet. Your soulmate stands on the deck in his pale blue linen button up, adjusting the sails with experienced precision. He’s the image of grace, like a statue made of marble carved by an ancient sculptor.

“You thinking about that day?”

You didn’t even notice he’d moved, too fixated on his backlit silhouette and how beautifully broad his shoulders look.

“Yeah,” you grin, propping yourself up on your elbows where you lay. “That was a good day.”

“Yeah, it was.”

He sits down on the deck in front of you, rubbing circles into your calf with his thumb.

“A lot has changed since then, huh?”

“Yes and no. We’re still just as clueless about the soulmate stuff as we were back then,” you chuckle. “But we’re happier now. Less afraid.”

“And we still haven’t talked to your parents about it.”

“But we will. Very soon. Oops.”

Bucky shakes his head, smiling as he does it. You move to sit in the space between his spread legs, allowing his arms to wrap around you and cage you into him. The two of you stay like that for a while, embracing the calmness that time has brought you.

You close your eyes, slowly letting yourself relax as the gentle waves and the anchoring of your soulmate ease your nerves. Bucky hums lowly into your hair, a tune that you can’t quite place your finger on.

“Have I heard that before?” you ask in a murmur.

“Maybe. It’s an old song, my mom used to sing it to us as a lullaby.”

“That’s sweet.”

The mental image of a tiny little Bucky all wrapped up in his blankets while his mother sings to him is almost too much for your heart to handle. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the melody.

“You never talk about her.”

“Hmm?”

“Your mom. You never mention her.”

“I don’t really have much to say.”

You contemplate it for a moment, before deciding to just bite the bullet.

“You know my mom mentioned something about your sister the other day, and I had to sit there and nod and pretend that I already knew it. When in reality, I didn’t even know you had a sister, Buck.”

You can feel him tense up behind you, muscles going stiff where they’re wrapped around your arms.

“It just never came up.”

“Never? In almost two years of us being soulmates, it never came up?”

Bucky’s silent - perhaps the most silent you’ve ever heard him. The sound of the ocean waves is suddenly amplified, filling the empty space.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, honey.”

“Anything. Literally anything. I just… why do I feel like I don’t know anything, all of a sudden? Your family, your upbringing, nothing.”

“Because it’s not relevant. I’m not just gonna bring it up out of the blue for no reason.”

“I’d say our pasts are pretty relevant, Buck. They make us who we are. I’m not gonna sit here and push you to talk about something you don’t want to talk about, because that’s not fair. But I also don’t think it’s fair that you know everything about me, and I feel like I don’t really know that much about you.”

You’ve turned in his arms, sliding back so you can face him from a distance. You’re expecting him to look angry, or sad, but instead he looks… guilty. Caught out, even.

“You know more about me than anyone else in this world does,” he says eventually.

“Maybe. But I couldn’t tell you your mom or sister’s names, where you grew up, any of it. It makes me feel like there’s a piece of you, however big, that you just don’t want me to know.”

“I… don’t know what to say.”

“Okay. Well, neither do I, anymore.”

The two of you sit for a minute, waiting to see if the other one has anything else to add.

“We’ve done this in the wrong order, I think.” You’re whispering, but he hears you loud and clear. “We think we know each other just because we’re soulmates, but we don’t.”

He goes to interject, so you continue quickly.

“We’ve avoided tough conversations because we thought it’d make things easier, but now they’ve come back to bite us. Buck… do you know how much we haven’t talked about?”

He bites at his bottom lip, gaze never leaving yours.

“We’ve not spoken about marriage, or kids, or any of that stuff. I mean, do you even want kids? Do you know if I do? Would you want to get married? God, did we think that by not having these conversations that they’d just… go away?”

“I- I didn’t want to scare you off with the hard topics too soon. You were overwhelmed at even having a soulmate, never mind marrying or having kids with one.”

“Yeah, but Buck… we’re past that now. We should be able to talk about everything, and we’ve just pulled the wool over our eyes in blissful ignorance.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, running his fingers through his windswept hair.

“I don’t have the time that you do.”

“Hmm?”

“Kids. On my next birthday, I’ll be forty. I don’t have the time to wait around, wondering and debating if I want kids or not. You can wait another ten years if you want to - but I can’t.”

The reality of that statement hits you like a freight train, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“I can’t be an old dad. A little older, sure. But no one needs their dad to be fifty when they’re a baby. Seventy when they’re twenty one. Dying when they’re not even forty yet.”

A tear slips down your cheek, landing on your thigh with a tiny splash.

“I’m not ready for kids,” you confess quietly. “And I don’t know when I will be.”

Bucky nods in understanding, careful eyes taking you in.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, honey. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

In this moment, nothing anyone says will make anything any better. You can feel each others sadness in your chests, blue and heavy and constricting.

Bucky sails you back to shore without another word, both of you quietly contemplating. He drops you off outside your apartment building, the roar of his trucks engine the only sound that can be heard. You gently rub your thumb over his cheekbone where he’s caught the sun, before picking up your bag and unlocking your front door without looking over your shoulder.

You can’t bear to meet his eyes. You don’t dare to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You spend the rest of the afternoon baking.

It takes your mind off of everything, at least temporarily. You throw yourself into the recipe you’ve made at least ten times, all for Lacie. This is her favourite thing you create, and you’re absolutely determined to make it perfect for her.

You place the final raspberry on the top of the cake, and burst into tears.

It feels like everything you’ve built - that you believed was solid - actually has cracks running throughout. You want to convince yourself that you’re not mad at Bucky, but you think that maybe you are. He’s made the conscious choice to never share parts of his life before you with you. Even knowing that he didn’t do it with any malicious intent doesn’t seem to make it any easier.

Taking a deep breath, you pop the cake in the refrigerator to keep it from melting, before making your way to your bathroom. The water you splash on your face makes you feel a little more alive, the coolness of it shocking you back to reality.

You inhale, watching your reflection in the mirror as you exhale shakily. A noise from your phone rings out from where it sits atop the vanity, a text from Lacie lighting up the screen.

-

From: Lace <3

Can’t wait to see you tonight babe!! Are you wearing a skirt, or are jeans the vibe?? Shorts maybe?? Send me a pic of your outfit <33

-

You smile as you type your reply, picturing her face in your head as she reads it.

-

To: Lace <3

No outfit picked yet - will let you know what I decide. Definitely not wearing jeans, skirt is a maybe. Made your cake though <3

-

You press send and hop in the shower, hoping that the hot spray of the water will wash away some of the tension in your muscles. Trying to turn your brain off, you decide to focus all your attention on getting dressed and ready, putting on some music and pouring yourself a glass of something fruity.

Tonight will be a good night. You’ll make sure of it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You wait for Lacie out on the street, just like old times. If she was ever coming over when you were kids, you’d stand at the end of your driveway, too excited to stay on the front porch.

She tries to run towards you, but her wedge heels don’t let her get too far. She hobbles over instead, half hopping, half jumping to get to you faster.

“I am so excited!” she practically yells into your ear as she hugs you tightly. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Lace,” you laugh, “I saw you last week.”

“Too long!” she declares, grabbing your hand and leading you towards your front door. “Let’s have the best night ever, yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s.”

Your parents are overjoyed to see Lacie again.

“You got taller, kid?” your Dad asks as he ruffles her hair, much to her dismay.

Your Mom’s laughing, shaking her head as she pulls her in for a quick cuddle.

“You look beautiful, sweetie. Have you changed your hair? Is it lighter?”

“You like it? Did it a couple of months ago. Wanted a change.”

“I love it. I need to make an appointment with you soon, I’m well overdue a cut.”

“I’ll make space for you anytime, Lori. Just text me and I’ll fit you in.”

“Wine, anyone?” your Dad yells from the kitchen doorway. “Lacie, I know you’ll have some!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she teases, giggling. “But yes, I will. The biggest glass you have, actually.”

You grin as you sit down to your place at the dinner table, Lacie taking the chair next to you. She’s already launched into a story about a nightmare client at work, making all of you double over with laughter.

The stress leaves your body the more you smile, all four of you wrapped up in this perfect bubble of nostalgia and friendship and memories and love.

Just like old times.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We’re going for a walk. You girls want to come?”

Your parents are stood hand in hand in the doorway, looking at you expectantly.

“No thanks, you two go ahead. Think we’re gonna have a drink on the porch.”

“Okay, sweethearts. See you later.”

They’re giggling at something when they leave, the melodic sound of it hanging in the air behind them.

“You wanna raid the bar cart?” Lacie asks, looking at you with mischief in her eyes.

“Yes, I do,” you laugh, standing up and pulling her with you.

The two of you find a bottle of coconut rum, half empty but still in date. Your best friend holds it in her hand as if you’ve discovered buried treasure, face lit up with excitement.

“Let’s sit out the back, maybe see some stars.”

You get cosy on the porch, both of you curled up under a blanket to keep the evening chill at bay. You pass the rum back and forth, content to just be in each others company again.

“Remember when we were like sixteen, and your Dad caught us trying a cigarette out here?”

You smile at the memory, casting your mind back to that day you sat in this very spot.

“And instead of yelling at us, he told us that we were lighting it wrong?”

“And then he called us losers while he walked off laughing.”

You both shake with laughter, recalling the look on his face.

“I thought we were so grounded, but then I just felt kinda lame.”

“That’s my Dad for you. He’s always had his own method of parenting. And honestly? It’s worked pretty good so far.”

Lacie looks at you with a measured gaze before taking your hand in hers.

“Have you guys talked to your parents yet? About everything?”

“No,” you reply a little too quickly, bottom lip wobbling. “Not yet.”

“Hey, hey.”

She scoots over so she’s practically sitting in your lap, legs tangled with yours under the throw as she slings an arm around your shoulders to pull you close.

“Babe, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You didn’t realise you were until she said it, now feeling the warm tears drip down your face. There’s a lump in your throat that you can’t seem to get rid of, and you wonder momentarily if it’s your sadness or Bucky’s.

“Me and Bucky had a bad day.”

“What happened?”

Her fingers are rubbing gentle patterns into the skin of your shoulder, her soft eyes watching you encouragingly. She’s always been the most patient person with you - as if she knows you’ll tell her everything eventually, even if it takes you a while.

“I just had this - this, this sudden realisation? That I don’t feel like I actually know that much about him, or his past, or his family. And when I said this to him, everything got weird and tense and he was all closed off.”

“Did you ask why? Why he hasn’t shared this stuff with you?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand. “He told me he just didn’t have much to say.”

“Well that’s not really an answer.”

“Exactly. Am I being crazy? You’d tell me if I was being crazy, right?”

“Of course I’d tell you, you know I would. And you’re not being crazy. He’s so involved with your family, so why shouldn’t you at least know a little about his?”

“This is what I mean,” you breathe, relieved that someone finally understands. “He’s purposefully never mentioned his parents, or his upbringing. You know I only found out he has a sister last week?”

“Woah. That’s… that’s kind of a big deal.”

“I just don’t know if he could see it from my point of view when we talked about it today. And I didn’t want to push and push just in case I pushed too far, because that isn’t fair and he wouldn’t do that to me. But at the same time… sometimes he closes himself off, whether he realises it or not.”

She squeezes you tightly, reassuring you with a simple gesture.

“I love you. You know that babe, don’t you? Even if we don’t see each other as much as we used to. I love you more than anything.”

She’s only making you cry harder, a mixture of happy and sad tears.

“I know, Lace. I love you so much.”

She rests her head atop yours, hands and hearts intertwined on the back porch.

“I just…” you take a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. “I’m sad. And I’m angry. I’m angry that this is the hand I’ve been dealt. Not Bucky - never Bucky - God he’s the best soulmate I ever could have asked for. But I’m mad that we’ve had it so hard. Soulmates are supposed to be easy and simple and written in the stars and all I’ve felt is stress because our Tethering is so complicated.

I feel so uncertain of the future and who I am and who I want to be. And I never used to feel that way, but Bucky has changed everything. I love him so much, and that has altered my entire life and my entire future and the way I look at and think about the world.

I guess I’m just sad, at the end of it all. Because this should have been a magical honeymoon period for us, and instead it was filled with so much worry and hiding and confusion. And how is that fair? Why do some people have it easy, and others don’t?”

Lacie takes your face in her hands, forcing you to look into her big green eyes.

“Listen to me, babe. Nothing worth having ever comes easy.”

You’re expecting her to continue, but she doesn’t. She just watches you process, thumbs wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

“Nothing. Worth. Having. Ever. Comes. Easy.”

You’re nodding, letting her words sink in.

“You’ve been dealt a tough hand. You’re right. But when has that ever gotten you down before? You’ve always picked yourself up, dusted yourself off, and kept going. It’s one of the things I love the most about you.”

A ghost of a smile threatens to take over your face, and she laughs.

“It’s true. And it’s not going to solve itself overnight. It’s going to require a lot of talking, a lot of listening, and a lot of patience. But the two of you will do it. Because you’re soulmates, and you’re meant to be. Literally.

Have some time apart, put a little space between you. And then come back together and work through this. It’ll do you both some good to take a step back and look at everything from a different perspective in a few days. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, tucking her hair behind her ear so it stops blowing into her face. “Yeah.”

“And you know where I am if you need to talk or rant or scream or cry or all of the above.”

“Always,” you chuckle, resting your head on her shoulder. “Love you.”

“Love you.”

The two of you abandon the rum, instead choosing to make some tea to drink out on the porch. You watch the stars for hours, just like you did when you were kids.

“You wanna have a sleepover tonight?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If Cameron doesn’t mind.”

“He won’t, don’t worry. I’d love to.”

Your Mom and Dad watch through the kitchen window, as the two girls who were once four years old running around the garden are now grown women, sitting out on the bench and holding hands like they used to.

They’d pause time, if they could. Just for a moment.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You feel like giggly teenagers when you both snuggle up under your blankets in bed, the light of the moon casting shadows across your features.

You’re all tucked up, facing each other and whispering in the dark. These would be your favourite nights when you were kids, especially during the summer. The promise of no school tomorrow, staying up and sharing secrets until the early hours of the morning, trying to keep your voices down so your parents didn’t hear. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed it until now.

Lacie moves a piece of hair away from your face, her manicured nails against your skin making you shiver. She reaches for your hand under the duvet, linking your fingers firmly.

“You know, I was never worried about meeting my soulmate,” she murmurs into the dusk. “I was always excited, but never worried.”

“You weren’t? How come?”

“Because I’ve had a soulmate since I was four years old. And she is the most important thing I have. Even if I never met my romantic soulmate, I would have been okay - because I know what true love is.”

A tear slips down your cheek and onto your pillow as you shuffle sideways, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I’m so lucky,” you sniffle. “And emotional. I think the rum has gone to our heads.”

Your best friend laughs a little too loud, both of you trying to muffle the sound with your hands.

“I’ve always been a teary drunk,” she chuckles, squeezing your fingers. “Before we both fall asleep because the wine has hit us, let me just say that I’m proud of you. Going to California, having the courage to come back, opening yourself up to Bucky… all of it. You guys will be just fine.”

“Yeah, we will. I couldn’t have done any of it without you, though.”

“We make a good team,” she grins.

“We always have. We’ve had twenty years of being a good team.”

“Here’s to twenty more,” she whispers, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“And twenty more after that,” you whisper back, snuggling into her.

You fall asleep like that, still tangled and clutching each other’s hands like you’re children again. You can almost feel the love in the room, all warm and soft and glowing.

No matter what happens… you’ve known what true love was since you were four years old. And that is something that no Tethering can replicate.

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[tootiecakes234]

I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.

You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.

One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.

“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.

You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.

He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.

“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”

You look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”

“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”

It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.

You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.

You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.

You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.

“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.

“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”

When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.

“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”

He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”

“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.

“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”

Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.

You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.

“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.

“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”

“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”

“I do not.”, you start to object.

“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.

“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.

“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”

“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”

He smiles at you, “always”

He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.

You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.

To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.

Katsuki Masterlist

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[cosmopretty]

Forgotten Date

Caitlin Clark x Fem

Synopsis: After getting drafted Caitlin has been working so hard for Indiana Fever she seems to accidentally forget about you. Once she realizes she can’t help but want to make it up to you.



After being the number one pick in the WNBA draft, Caitlin your girlfriend has been working harder than she ever has. College basketball was nothing like this league, it was a whole new level and it was exhausting for her and her new teammates. You moved with Caitlin to Indiana because she loved you and wanted you to be with her while she lives out her dreams.

But watching your girlfriend work her ass off all the time and come home exhausted was not a sight you liked to see.

All Caitlin did was work, in the gym on the court, off the court. The whole world was watching her, expecting her to change the WNBA. It was so much pressure on her and recently every time you woke up in the morning, she was never there, never home. She left you notes, texts, food but wasn’t around physically.

You missed her so much and it was crazy because you lived with her so you shouldn’t because you live together.

“Caitlin I’m still making dinner call me back when you can I love you” You say into the phone leaving her a voicemail, after she didn’t answer your first two calls.

Knowing her she was probably at practice or the gym, so you put your phone down and go back to cooking. Caitlin knew you were going to cook for the two of you, you told her this morning. It was supposed to be a cute little date for you both since you haven’t been spending much time together and you just wanted to cheer her up.

The dinner was her favorite kind of pasta with grilled chicken you cooked and seasoned yourself and garlic bread. You spent all morning at the grocery store looking for ingredients and all afternoon cooking.

You set up the table and lit some candles, putting a vase down with fresh flowers you picked up today.

You sat at the table, staring at the empty chair across from you, the food growing cold on the plates. The silence in the room felt heavy, pressing down on you as you pushed the fork around your untouched meal. Each passing minute made the ache in your chest deepen, the disappointment settling in like a dull, unshakeable weight.

You called her multiple times, eleven to be exact at different times. She knew about this, she agreed and she didn’t show up.

You sat alone at the table, the flickering candlelight making soft shadows around the room. The food that you had carefully prepared sat untouched, their warmth slowly fading as the minutes ticked by. With each passing moment, the silence in the room grew heavier, and the hope that your girlfriend might still walk through the door began to fade, leaving only the sting of disappointment in its place.

After more than enough time you get up leaving the untouched food in its place, not bothering to clean anything up.

Walking into the room you shared with Caitlin you couldn’t even stand there for more than a minute before grabbing your bag and leaving.

You step out of your apartment, the click of the door behind you echoing in the quiet hallway. The evening air hits your face as you walk down the stairs, each step heavier than the last. You’re not sure where you’re going, but staying inside wasn’t an option. Not tonight.

She bailed on dinner didn’t even bother to show up. No call, no text, nothing you waited for an hour for her after she wasn’t even home all day.

You find yourself outside, the city buzzing around you, people going about their lives. Couples pass by, holding hands, laughing. It stings more than you expected, all you wanted was her but she couldn’t be there.

You pull your jacket tighter, feeling the chill that isn’t just from the night. There’s a knot in your chest, a mix of frustration, sadness, and something else—something harder to name. You wonder if it’s worth it, if she’s worth it, or if you’re just clinging to something that’s slipping away.

But for now, you keep walking, hoping the movement will take you somewhere, anywhere that feels less empty.

Ending up at the park you sit down on the bench you body heavy with emotions from tonight.

The park is quiet, the kind of place you go when you need to think, to clear your head. Trees sway gently in the breeze, their leaves rustling like whispers in the dark. You wonder what went wrong this time—was she really that busy, or did she just forget you?

Only an hour after you sat down your phone started going off, texts from Caitlin saying how sorry she is and calls over and over.

Caitlin stepping in side your shared apartment her heart dropping to her stomach when she saw the dinner she forgot of. She called you over and over and you declined every call even though you did wish to hear her voice.

The one thing you forgot was that the two do you shared locations so when Caitlin showed up at the park walking towards you a frown on her lips.

She’s walking toward you, her pace quickening as she spots you. There’s an urgency in her steps, in the way she calls your name. You hear her, but instead of walking towards her you get up walking the opposite direction, crossing your arms.

But she was taller than you and faster so she reaches you, slightly out of breath, her eyes searching yours.

“Hey,” she says softly, trying to catch your attention. You can hear the apology in her voice, but it feels like it’s too late. You keep walking, and she falls into step beside you.

“I’m sorry,” she starts, her voice filled with guilt. “I didn’t mean to forget I just- I got caught up in the gym, and time slipped away. I know that’s not an excuse”

You look up at her for a moment your eyes filled with unshed tears. But you don’t say a word to her, just continuing to walk. Caitlin reaches out to you grabbing your arming turn you to face her, the two of you stand still staring at one another.

“Please,” she pleads, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable “Talk to me” she begs.

“I miss you Caitlin and we live together so I shouldn’t miss you— I just wanna be with you that’s why I came half way across America for you and your never here and when you are your tired and that’s not your fault but it hurts” You vent to her a tear drop falling down your cheek.

Her eyes look at you filled with guilt, her handing coming up to wipe the tear on your cheek. Her thumb caresses your cheek rubbing back and forth— she never realized how hard this was for you, not just her.

“I’m so sorry baby I love you so much and I will make time for you- I promise” She says to you her hand coming down from your cheek to grab your hand.

Her lips turn up to a small smile causing one to fall upon your face “I’m sorry let me make it up to you please” Caitlin asks her brown hair falling over her face as she looks down at you.

Your hand comes up hesitantly to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear. Your hand stays on her face before slowly pulling her closer to you “Okay make it up to me” you whisper before closing the gap between you both, your lips crashing into each other.

Caitlin pulls away first “Come on I have an idea” she says her hand coming to hold yours pulling you with her as she walks down the pathway out of the park.

“Where are we going?” You ask her laughing a bit she flashes you a small, playful smile, hoping it would help with the nervous flutter in your chest “You’ll see” she say, trying to sound lighthearted “Just trust me” you nod at her words following her.

The streets are quiet as you bothwalk, the sky fading into shades of pink and purple as the sun dips below the horizon. You steal a glance at her, catching the way her lips are set in a thoughtful line. You can tell she’s still upset, at what she did to you today for all she has done recently unknowingly.

After a few minutes, you turn a corner, and there it is, the little ice cream shop you both love, the one you haven’t visited in what feels like ages.

“ Ice cream?” she asks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she looks at you.

“Ice cream,” you confirm, grinning as you pull her towards the entrance “My treat. You can pick anything you want” she tells you pulling you inside the shop.

You both take your ice creams and find a spot by the window, the two of you settling into a comfortable silence as you start to eat. The cool, sweet taste melts on your tongue, and you savor the moment, the simple joy of being here with her, of seeing her smile again.

She looks up at you after a few bites, her eyes meeting yours with a warmth that you always found comfort in.

“Thank you” she says quietly, and you can hear the sincerity in her voice. Your brows furrowed confused on why she was thanking you in the first place.

“I needed this, and I need you your the reason I work so hard I want to make you proud- I want us to be happy” Caitlin says her hand dropping from her ice cream to grab your hand over the table.

As you sit there, sharing ice cream and quiet conversation, you feel the weight between you lifting, the bond you share growing stronger with each passing moment. You know that things aren’t perfect, that there’s still work to be done, but right now, in this moment, she made you happy. And that’s all that matters.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 2 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments in the car

warnings (TW): swearing, illegal activities (of course), descriptions of panic/panic attack or general anxiety, alcohol consumption

tags: fluff, early relationship described, pining, very slight angst, affection

notes: i mean, i liked writing part one? so … i’m just gonna keep writing? do what brings you joy and all that jazz. alsooooo im currently unemployed and have too much time on my hands. any feedback is appreciated, seeing as this is the first (second) time i’m publishing online !

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked my new masterlist that contains updated parts to this series, thank you and hope you enjoy!

word count: 3.7k

| masterlist | part iii |

When you reside within the same place as another, you begin to notice particular behaviors. Of course, Stanley had resided in an unquantifiable number of places in the last decade, but he had forgotten what it was like to live alongside someone. 

Forgot about the consideration of messes and manners, and forgot about his socks in corners and cans on bedside tables. These were things he never had to consider when he was confined to a single room and a shared bunk with his brother, but she was different. 

The first couple months he found himself stumbling around her at times. Let her lead through doorways, ask her what she would like for dinner, using odds and ends as a coaster here and there. 

But she was much the same in that way. 

She hadn’t ever had to share her space like this, much less with a man. She fumbled with answers concerning dinner, forgot her delicates in the washer routinely, and had a habit of throwing her feet up on Stanley’s chair when he sat across from her at their poor excuse of a dinner table. 

But this was months ago. 

No, they both had noticed these intricacies about the other and had more or less adapted around them. Laundry was done half-heartedly, a quick combination of their socks and delicates. A calendar made its home on the fridge with scribbles of dinner plans, and her feet were shuffled onto his lap every night, adjusted to fit across his hips. 

But she still leads through most doorways. He would never admit to why. 

There were other, smaller things too. These things made him ache somewhere behind his sternum, and he usually shook them off. 

Small things like how she curled at her end of the couch, or how she brought her face to any page she was scribbling on, always squinting. How she tidied the living room every morning like they would be having guests. How she came to the kitchen every morning, hand outstretched for the mug he had deemed hers. 

He decided to forget about these things. At least some of them that is. 

He knew for a fact that she loved it when he drove the most. She enjoyed the movement of the trees out the window, enjoyed stretching her feet up to his dash (despite his initial protest), and she loved the radio in particular. 

Common law says to keep your eyes on the road, and both hands on the wheel. But it was very hard to conduct when she leaned forward towards the radio, singing under her breath. She was so relaxed here beside him on the long bench in the front of his long-loved car. 

The car had been through hell and back, but he was sure it’d never encountered anything as enchanting as her bellowing singing. It would ring through the car, only ever on the way home, and only ever after a bar visit. The buzz would stray his eyes from wheel and headlights to her, head thrown back singing. 

He swerved on the road more than he cared to admit when she was in the car. The reminder of her safety usually woke him up from his fantasies of her with her head thrown back, with her hair spilling around her, and a flush on her cheeks.

But he rarely kept both hands on the wheel, to begin with anyway. His right arm always flung behind, scrunched on the back part of her seat, itching to find the soft back of her neck. 

Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself in his seat, both hands returning to the wheel. A smile never leaving his face, a laugh rising as she scooted closer, incoherent 70’s BABBA lyrics sung into his right ear. 

He’d admit he likes driving her, in particular, around. 

They had made for town for a handful of differing supplies that day. 

Stanley, Stan, had a bright idea to earn some seasonal money by making the front half of the shack into a tourist attraction. After an explanation of his initial encounter with a group of town folk upon his first couple days in the shack, she had nodded along in agreement. 

They needed money, and the need was only growing of course. 

She was the farthest from a financial advisor, but she knew the reserve of money she had come to town with was dwindling, and with them both diving head-first into Ford’s basement business, the idea of money had seemed trivial, at least to her, those first couple months. 

She knew though that money wasn’t a trivial thing for Stan (Stanley). That he hadn’t had a successful last decade, and that her life strayed from his own background astronomically. 

That was one thing that grated her slightly. How flippantly he spoke of Ford to her, but how he had not shared himself as willingly. It didn’t make him a liar to withhold said information, but the state of Stanley’s (Stan’s) car backseat that first month spoke of a man on the run. 

But he had lit up so differently when he dragged her to the front of the shack's cluttered room. Explaining where things would go, a cash register, a display case, and certain merchandise. She’ll admit to perhaps not completely listening to him at the time, but later she would look back and reflect on how he was unsurprisingly a great salesman. 

He had been so happy, dragging her from corner to corner, painting pictures with words, but he had looked too enchanting for her to really hear it. One hand in his pocket, the other gesturing, and a smile upon his handsome figure. He had reached back out, dragging her back to the front door, hand on the small of her back as he ushered her around. 

It was a dump up here, truly. The one place in the house she hadn’t gotten to scouring for clues yet. She was unsure as to why she left the room untouched at the moment, but she thinks it had a lot to do with the panicked memory of meeting Stan (Stanley), and how the glow of the backroom reflected on his face made her wander in through the front door like a madwoman. 

She made for the car very soon after his explanation, eager to get the supplies he would need to renovate the front of the room. He had beaten her of course, opening and closing the passenger door without so much as a prompt, and making his way to the driver's side. 

The drive into town had been great as always. It was one of those mid-spring days. Wet on the windshield and crisp until 10 a.m. The hardware store served its purpose, as they wandered from aisle to aisle, looking for particular wood stains and sandpaper. 

“Here it is Stanl-” He had come up behind her abruptly. Hand coming up to her mouth, stopping her sentence, flicking his eyes up and down the aisle. 

She turned to face him, an apology already on her lips. But he was already looking down at her, a hidden heat behind his eyes. 

“What did I tell ya, hun?” He whispered it in the space between them. “I told ya, I can’t be that here.” 

He couldn’t be him anywhere anymore, at least not in the light of day. She had tried to shake the old him, but somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, she had a hard time calling him Stan. 

Because she knew it meant he was being Ford, not Lee. And it was hard to lie about anything concerning him, concerning Stanley. 

He sighed, his hand leaving her lips and running through his long hair. “We gotta get outta here anyways. Come along, hun.” A practiced smile reached the corners of his mouth, another lie. 

Unfortunately for his psyche, the cashier wanted to talk their ear off also. 

“Oh hiya, Stanford!” And of course, they knew his brother. 

A smile crawled up his face anyway, making nice like he figured his brother may have done all those months ago. 

“Getting supplies? Any new projects?” 

“Uh nah nah, not at the moment. Looking into renovating parts of the shack for some business right now.” 

“Business? Really? Never took you for much of a businessman.” The cashier continued to bag their samplings of wood stains. “But hey, life takes ya in odd directions sometimes!” 

He tisked. “Don’t I know it buddy.” He shook his head a little, grabbing the bag, peering over his shoulder checking for his smaller shadow. She followed in his wake, slightly downtrodden to have cut their store visit short with her stupid mouth. 

“Oh, Stanford!” The cashier called, but he didn’t turn until she reached for his jacket’s dirty red sleeve, tugging to turn him back. Flushed, he meets the cashier's outstretched hand. 

“The receipt! You always want the receipt.” 

He crushed the receipt in his hand. “Right… right ya, thanks.” 

She followed him back to the car, her hand never leaving his sleeve, brushing her warmth against his slightly shaking palm. He doesn’t forget to open her door or to slam the wood stains and sandpaper into the back of the car. 

The ride back was tense, and not of its usual bravado and fanfare.  He had peeled out of the parking lot all too quickly and regretted it the next moment as he looked over and watched her pale in the passenger seat. 

She didn’t reach for the radio, hands folded on her lap. She didn’t look out her window, as the trees blurred differently under Stanley’s hasty speed. 

Under Stan’s hasty speed. 

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this mess. And he definitely didn’t want to upset her. His arm never met the back of her seat, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel. 

He didn’t think of pulling over until he looked at her halfway home. Ram-rod straight, pale as all hell, and eyes blurry with undescribed grief. 

He cursed under his breath, pulling the car off to the side of the road, gravel underfoot. 

She got like this at times, at his temper. He knew at times he could be loud, that he raised his voice at inconveniences and the T.V. Knew that her lip curled in a particular way when on a very off day, his frustration explodes in her face. He was quick to anger at times, and she was quick to cover. 

He made himself so big in the face of things, but she folded into a different shape when he did. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he prayed she knew that he would never turn his anger to her. That he had raised fists before and spilled blood, but he’d never raise them again unless it was for her, if she would allow it. 

But he doesn't want her to get small in the face of his, well, everything. Because he had been angry at so many things in succession in his life he lost count, and he doesn’t want to lose the part of himself that cared for her in his anger, and he doesn't want her to fold into odd shapes and shadows in the face of him anymore. But above all, he didn’t want the reminder of his father to taint whatever the hell this was. It was bad enough he saw glimpses of him in the passing reflections from time to time.

He loved the fight in her eyes when they spat back and forth sometimes, a sarcastic, fake fight brewing between them. That’s how they both always ended up laughing at the dinner table most nights, and how he felt closer to her most days. His anger was never her responsibility, or her doing. She had never truly upset him once, and the way they played with words back and forth over a meal like an old married couple rattled a few rusty cogs in his brain from time to time. That his anger could at least be amusing, because when she smiled he forgot all about it anyway. 

So he parks the car in Spring and turns to her with his guts in his lap for the first time since he spoke to her that Winter night when he thought his prayers had been answered when she plowed through the shack’s door like a tidal wave. 

“I hate this.” He sighed. “And I can’t stand when you fucking look at me like that.” 

Her lip curled. Fuck fuck fuck. 

“I know.” It wobbled out her mouth. “I ruined the day, I’m sorry.” 

He leans back, his hand meeting the back of her seat. A beat, before he turns to her completely, like he does every night across the dinner table with her feet propped across the entirety of his lap. 

“I don’t want you to apologize to me. You should never have to apologize to me. I don’t want you to, ever fucking think you gotta hand that over to me again. Because you’ve never done anything to upset me doll, not ever.” 

She sniffles, a moment of crisp silence. Spring rain beats on the windows in a mist. A smile comes to her lips, and he sags in relief, anger fading.

“Except when I forget the laundry on the line.” She’s cracking jokes now? 

“Except that ya, because I kinda need socks and underwear mmk?” He laughs only slightly, a tiredness seeping into his posture. 

“I didn’t used to be like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“A bad liar.” He admits. He hadn’t disclosed much of his past to her. He wasn’t ashamed of it much when it came to disclosing his long resume to others, but she made him nervous. And he hadn’t been really, truly, honestly nervous in a long time. So he did what he does best, and he lied. 

“I could buy the shirt off your back from ya in under 10 minutes I swear.” He readjusts in his seat again, hand slowly creeping up the back of her seat still. “I’m a great liar, it’s how I made it from state to state, and the reason I’m not allowed back in Pennsylvania.” 

She laughs truly now. She had figured that was what he was used to. Long trips and longer fibs. She didn’t care much about the morality of it, because when she imagined him somehow corrupt in her mind's eye she remembered him bent over her on the couch, and how it felt to listen to the T.V. fade into the background as he carried her up the stairs. The faintness of her sheets, and the brush of his hand on her hairline. 

“But I can’t lie about this, or at least I'm really fucking bad at it.” He interrupts her thought. “I’m the farthest thing from Stanford Pines.”

“Perhaps you are, Lee.” A name she hadn’t used out loud fell between them. “But no one ever asked you to be him.” 

She realized quickly in her desperation to reassure him that she was also being a hypocrite. It was hard to call him Stan, she realized, but only because she was afraid of hurting him. The memory of Stanford still lived between them, and although they tried to shutter his existence in the basement they both weren’t very good at playing pretend yet. 

But they would need to be. It’d need to be the best con he’d ever pulled, that they had ever pulled. He just wasn’t used to having a partner quite yet. But they needed to be honest now if they were gonna pull it off and bring Stanford home. 

“You don’t need to be him. I know you aren’t him Stanley, and I don’t want you to be.” She paused, considering. “If we are going to do all this though, we need to work together. I-I need to get better, I need to call you Stan, and you need to believe me when I tell you I’m staying for the long haul.” 

He sighs again, readjusting to look over at her. 

“I lived a long time trying to be something great like I thought he was, like I know he is. But I haven’t, I hadn’t, seen him in so long. I don’t know who he is anymore.”

“You both have a surprising lot in common, actually.” She shrugs, a smile coming to her lips in memory. “You both smile the same, and you both doodle the same way, and you both tilt your head to the left when I ask a dumbass question.” 

He laughs at this, a memory of passing scribbles and doodles in class back and forth, and the comic books he would spend all night drawing in their shared room’s lamplight. Some things always stick, at least. 

She bridged the gap of some odd ten years, and he could at least be thankful about that. 

“I just want you to know… Stan. That when I do call you Stan, I mean Stanley- not Stanford.” She shrugs again, nervous. “Because you’re not him, you're right, and if you don’t want me to lie about this one small detail, it can be between us.” 

She had somehow come to the heart of his predicament without much digging. He had worn many hats in his time bouncing from state to state, a conman, a businessman, a thief, and a liar. But he didn’t wanna make her one of those things, and he knew by associating with him she would need to be. Just in the blur of it all, he didn't want to be someone else to her. Not even in name. He wanted there to be honesty between them because otherwise, it wouldn't work. What wouldn’t work? 

He finds resolution in her answer. That he will always be Stanley to her, and Stanford to others, at least for the time being. Oddly intimate, closely personal. He wouldn't linger on the thought.

“You’re right as usual, doll.” A smirk comes to his lips. “Team?” He questions, fist uncurling from the back of her seat, brushing between them to meet for a bump. 

She smiles brightly now, meeting him in the middle. “Team.” 

He sinks in the seat, beat from the emotions of the last hour already. “Okay we need to do something fucking fun now.” 

“Like what?” Amused, she reaches between them to turn the radio back on, sick of the silence in the shell of the car. A hum already on her lips. 

He smiles, a scheme on his lips, a memory playing in his head when he looks at her. 

She flushes, a quick shake of her head. “No, no, no Stan, no I am not doing it no.”

He loves how she fights it but he knows how to get his way with her already, even if it has only been a short six months. Flushed in her seat, and begging him. Fuck. 

All he has to do is fucking smile, with that stupid glint in his eyes. “Yes, ya are!” He taunts, a laugh already bellowing. “You’re driving!” 

“I don’t fucking know how and you know it!” She had been embarrassed to admit it to him that one night, that she had made it this long without a driver’s license, but he had all but said please that night, vying for blackmail from her. He had told her about his kiddy comic books, so she had to fess up to something stupid of equal measure he felt. 

“I’ll teach ya!” 

He was already out his door and around the front of the car, opening her own, and reaching across her lap to unbuckle her from her seat when she continued to shake her head. 

She moved only when he began slipping his hand under her thigh and around her back to move her across the long bench to the front of the wheel. He sometimes forgot about where he put his hands on her, when he was giddy like this. She never minded, though. 

She was still shaking her head when he reached back over her to buckle her into her new spot behind the wheel, laughing all the way. Amused by her protest of this simple thing. Only amused, because he knew deep down she was actually okay with it. Another fake fight ongoing between them, some old cogs moving in his head. 

He moved back some, but resided half in the passenger seat and half in the middle, his big hand on her thigh. Fuck. 

He leaned down (Fuck), his other hand pointing at things she should have been paying attention to. This is like the shack all over again. 

He looked back at her, even more amused by her flustered face, and repeated himself like he knew what was going on in her head. Because, well, he kinda did. 

“This is the petal to the right, and the break to the left, doll.” He brings his hand back to the wheel. “This stick on the left is the turn signal, and this stick on the right is the shifter.” 

She began to breath again when he moved away, but he was still chuckling through ever sentence of course. Too handsome for his own good.

“Now all ya gotta do, doll, is shift from park to drive, but put ur foot on the break first.” 

“Uh… this one?” She put her left foot on the left most pedal. 

He squeezed her thigh, goddamnit, leaning back into her to basically physically move her foot. 

“No, no, ya gotta only use your right foot. You can’t use both.” 

“Why not?” 

He shrugs, tilting his head left at her dumbass question. “Because I said so.” He laughs again, hand still very warm and very present. 

“Okay, okay… okay.”

He nods. “Okay okay okay, now just shift the right rod up here.” He grabs her hand, bringing it up and showing her the different gears and how to count through them. Forgetting himself in his amusement, hand still on her fucking thigh. 

He laughs all the way home, and she thinks it’s worth the constant breaking she does in the middle of the road when she gets spooked by the speed of the car. The road is luckily empty, and the radio is drowned out by Stan’s commentary. She doesn’t mind the jabs at her newfound skill, and he takes jabs right back when she slams the break particularly hard and his head gets precariously close to the dash. She doubles over at that one, amused by the sudden shock on his face, but quickly distracted by the hand still on her fucking thigh. He thinks she looks nice like that, behind his wheel. 

They make it back to the shack in one piece, but he’s the one that has to reach over to shift the car back into park. 

He realizes when he looks back over at her, that he had forgotten his anger a while ago, and that his hand had made a new home on the soft of the back of her neck, moving from her thigh when he shifted gears. 

He would let her drive again, if it meant this. 

She’d admit she likes driving him, in particular, around. 

He’d just need to stock up on brake pads. 

[dreamescapeswriting]

You Make Me Feel Like Christmas || BC

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

PAIRING: Chan x GN!Reader

GENRE: Seasonal piece, drabble? cute, fluffy, reader not feeling the season and chan does everything he can to fix it, established relationships

SYNOPSIS: Struggling to find the Christmas spirit, you feel disconnected from the holiday magic you once loved. Bang Chan notices and spends a day dedicated to rekindling your joy, from decorating a tree to making Christmas s’mores under the stars. Through his unwavering care and creativity, he reminds you of the warmth and magic of the season, culminating in a tender moment by the fire.

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - December 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The chill of December had settled firmly in the air, snow gently blanketing the streets outside the window. Twinkling lights adorned every corner, the world around you buzzing with Christmas cheer—except for you... You sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs and a mug of hot chocolate in your hands, staring at the television playing yet another holiday movie. You forced yourself to watch it trying to push through your mood as the same storyline played out right before your very eyes.

It wasn’t that you hated Christmas, but this year, the magic seemed distant, leaving you feeling more like a spectator than a participant. Chan noticed. He always noticed, he noticed every single thing there was about you so you weren't sure why you thought you were going to get away with hiding this from him.

“Not even a smile for your favourite holiday movie?” he teased gently as he entered the living room, carrying a tray of cookies he’d baked earlier. The sweet scent of sugar and cinnamon wafted through the room, but it wasn’t enough to lift your spirits. You shrugged, offering a small, apologetic smile.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it this year.” You stared back at the screen as the couple finally got together at the end of the film. Something that had once brought you to tears but this time it didn't even bring a lump to your throat.

Chan’s brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a determined line. He set the tray down and sat beside you, pulling you close. His arm wrapped around your waist and he sighed a little,

“That’s not like you,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. Every year you were usually going over the top for Christmas, sometimes even counting down to it from July onwards but this year he'd noticed you hadn't. He'd put it all down to stress but as the date crept closer he was starting to worry.

“Christmas is your thing. Remember last year? You made me dress up as an elf for your Instagram post.” A small laugh escaped you at the memory, but it quickly faded.

“Maybe I’m just tired.” He leaned back, his dark eyes locking with yours.

“Tired or not, I’m going to fix this,” he declared. “You deserve a Christmas that feels like Christmas.” Before you could protest and tell him that he didn't have to do that he was on his feet, his mind clearly already buzzing with plans.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of cheerful Christmas music blaring from the living room. Still groggy, you shuffled out of bed to find Chan dancing around in a Santa hat and a ridiculously festive sweater adorned with blinking lights. He was decorating the tree, which, until this moment, had stood bare in the corner of the room. The two of you had been to the tree farm a few days ago and picked out the short tree together.

You'd done it thinking that picking out a tree would put you in the mood but it had done nothing but stress you out more.

"Good morning!” he called out, twirling around with a strand of tinsel.

“I’m making breakfast in a bit, but first, come help me with this tree!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him like this. His enthusiasm was infectious, even if your Christmas spirit hadn’t fully returned yet. You joined him, and together you started adorning the tree with ornaments.

Every few minutes, Chan would hold up a particularly ridiculous decoration, like a sparkly reindeer, and insist on putting it front and centre.

“This one’s perfect,” he said, his grin wide as he placed it on a branch. “It’s so ugly it’s cute.” He told you before kissing your cheek softly and giving you a soft squeeze.

By the time the tree was finished, it was a masterpiece of mismatched ornaments - ones you collected every year you were together, a small tradition that the two of you had together - twinkling lights, and an impressive amount of tinsel. Chan stood back, hands on his hips, looking proud.

“There. A proper Christmas tree. What do you think?” He nudged your arm softly as he wiggled his eyebrows in your direction, you took in the sight and bit down on your lip, it might have been the worst decorated tree in the world but it was YOUR worst decorated tree.

“It’s... perfect,” you admitted, your smile growing little by little as Chan smiled, pretty proud of himself for what he'd managed to do.

“Told you I’d fix this,” he said, dropping his lips to yours for a quick chaste kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.

The day didn’t stop there though, no. Chan had an itinerary, and he wasn’t about to let you escape it. First, he dragged you outside to build a snowman, complete with a carrot nose and a scarf he insisted was stylish and something he'd seen all over Pinterest.

When your hands started to go numb, he'd been quick to whisk you back inside, wrapping you in blankets and placing a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands. Claiming he'd found the recipe for Judy's hot chocolate from the "Santa Clause" movies and wanted you to try it.

“Now, the most important part of Christmas,” he announced, holding up a stack of Christmas cards and a box of pens.

“Spreading cheer.” You groaned playfully but took the markers, letting him guide you through writing cards for friends and family. Each card turned into an art project, Chan doodling little snowflakes and stars in the corners while you added heartfelt messages. He even decided to add his little snake doodle but instead of a crown above it's head, he added a Santa hat instead.

The day went by pretty quickly and as it started to get dark outside, Chan still wasn’t done yet.

“Time for the finale,” he said, holding out his hand to you. You raised an eyebrow at him, your eyes looking at his outstretched hand as you wondered what else he had planned for you.

“Finale?” You questioned, still not moving yet.

“You’ll see.” He smirks and you giggle taking his hand and jumping up with him.

He led you outside to the small backyard, where he’d set up a little fire pit. The flames crackled warmly, and next to the fire sat a basket filled with marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate. There were blankets set up on seats so that the two of you wouldn't freeze to death in the snow or get sick.

“S’mores?” you asked, smiling as you noticed just how much effort he was putting into all of this for you.

“Christmas s’mores,” he corrected, pulling out a bag of peppermint-flavoured marshmallows and waving them around, smirking at you. “Trust me, they’re amazing.”

You sat by the fire, the two of you roasting marshmallows and laughing as Chan’s first attempt caught fire and eventually dripped into the firepits below. When he finally got it right, he made a s’more and held it out to you with a grin.

“For you. The honorary first Christmas s’more.” You took a bite, the mix of chocolate, graham cracker, and peppermint melting in your mouth, you shut your eyes and let out a moan. It was surprisingly good.

“Okay, you were right,” you admitted. “These are amazing.” Chan’s grin grew even wider.

“Told you. I’m always right.”

As the fire burned low, you leaned against Chan, the warmth of the flames and his arms warming you up fully. For the first time all season, you felt a spark of that Christmas magic that you'd been yearning for. Maybe it was the tree, the s’mores, or the fact that Chan had spent the entire day making sure you smiled. Whatever it was, you were grateful.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft and shaking a little as you looked up at him. Chan looked down at you, his eyes warm and filled with affection as he ran his hand over your cheek and rubbed his thumb over your skin.

“For what?”

“For this-" You gestured around at the fire and over at the house,

"For everything. I needed it more than I realized.” You whisper and he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you.

“Anything for you. Always...So are we feeling festive?" he questions softly as he holds your face in his hands. Your only response was a shy nod, and then his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow and sweet, the kind that made time seem to pause and the world fade away. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin as he pulled you just a little closer.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. Your stomach was flipping in all kinds of directions as you let out a small giggle,

“How’s that for Christmas spirit?” he whispered, his eyes twinkling mischievously. You laughed softly, your cheeks warm from the fire and his touch.

“Alright, alright. You win. It’s definitely feeling like Christmas now." Chan beamed, pulling you into a side hug as he cuddled you into him.

“That’s what I like to hear.” And as the fire continued to burn, you realized maybe—just maybe—Chan was your favourite part of the season.

A/n: Still on hiatus but wanted to write something cute for the holidays <3

[roseworth]

one time like a year ago a giant hornet (?) got into my apartment and i managed to get it out the door but then an hour later it was somehow back in?? and i don’t even live in that apartment anymore but it haunts me to this day because i still don’t know how it got in either time and i never will

[ldydeath]

Too Fast to Live | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Jiyong is busy on tour while you’re busy with work. You finally find time to come see him, but Jiyong gives you a fright when he’s too exhausted to keep up with his demanding schedule. 

Warnings: fainting, but that’s about it.

With the MADE tour being in full swing you and Jiyong hadn’t been able to see each other much. This was something you’d discussed a lot prior to the tour kick off and despite the odds and distance you two had decided to make it work. You two had been together for a little over a year now and loved each other too much to walk away despite busy schedules.

Every chance you got you were making stops along the world tour, living for the days your schedules aligned perfectly and you got more than a few hours together. When Jiyong had first left you’d thought this was going to be the longest year of your life, but truthfully with how busy you’d also been the past year, the tour was flying by.

You and Jiyong would facetime after every show, regardless of what time zone you were in. You honestly didn’t mind being woken up at all hours of the night, not when it meant you got to wake up to the most beautiful face you’d ever seen. Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, your arm moving out of the comfort of the warm blankets to fish around for it. Your peaked open one eye to check the notification, a grin quickly crossing your face when you saw who it was. “Hi handsome.” Your voice raspy from sleep and Jiyong’s face came into view. “I woke you?” He frowned as if this wasn’t an almost daily occurrence at this point. 

Jiyong was almost done with the tour which meant his nights were early morning for you. “It’s fine, I need to be up soon anyway to head to the airport.” You shrugged, sitting up fully in bed. His frown turning to a smile at the mention of your trip. You’d be back in his arms in 24 hours and he couldn’t wait to see you. “How’d it go tonight?” You took a minute to look him over, noting how exhausted he looked - even on a grainy screen. “It was good. Just a lot, again.” 

You knew what he was referring to, Jiyong had been struggling for a while now with the extended set time he was on stage, but in true Jiyong fashion, he wasn’t willing to press the matter.  “You need to rest, Ji. Try to take it easy tonight?”  You knew his nightly routine by now - dinner with the guys, a quick call to you, and then he’d be locked in his room until morning. That didn’t mean you didn’t worry about him, because of course you did. “I am resting, look!” He moved his phone showing off his bed and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I have to get going, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” He pouted on the other end but nodded in understanding, “I love you too.” 

The next twenty four hours passed pretty slowly , thanks to spending most of it in the air. You’d been antsy the entire flight and practically ran to baggage claim. Jiyong had sent a car, not being able to pick you up himself. You practically jumped out of the car while it was still moving when you pulled up to the venue, Jiyong waiting outside for you. He let out a laugh as you leaped into his arms, pulling him in for a bone crushing hug. “Hi you.” He grinned as he held you tightly. “I’ve missed you.” You practically melted in his arms at his words and pulled back to take him in. He looked well, more rested since your previous conversation and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “I missed you too.” Jiyong leaned down, pressing his lips to yours but before you could deepen the kiss behind you brought you both back to reality.

“Hate to break up the happy reunion but we’re needed for sound check.” Seunghyun offered you a friendly smile before pulling Jiyong away from you. You grabbed your bags and found your way to Jiyong’s dressing room. You had about an hour to kill while sound check was going on and decided a nap would do you some good if you even wanted to make it to show time. Kicking off your shoes, you plugged your phone into the nearest port, texting your family to let them know you’d made it in and curled up on the couch, falling fast asleep.

You awake an hour later to Jiyong pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Hi” you whispered, whipping your eyes, sitting up fully. “You look tired.” You frowned, noticing the fast difference in his appearance. “Just what every guy wants to hear” he teased as he moved to open the door, letting in his glam team. “Oh, stop, you know what I mean.” You rolled your eyes, playfully at him. The next couple hours went by quickly as you watched your boyfriend get ready for show time.

“Ready?” You asked as you both made your way towards the other guys. He nodded, words failing him. Despite how many times Jiyong was on stage he still got nervous right before going on. You squeezed his hand, a reassuring smile on your lips as the guys came into view. “I’ll see you after.” You pecked his lips, said a quick hello to everyone and followed his team to your favorite spot backstage. 

No matter how many times you watched this show you never got tired of it. You’d lost count by now how many times you’d seen it, and had come to enjoy memorizing every detail of the show. Zutter, which was arguably your favorite song, had just started and you sucked in a breath. This was the part of the show Jiyong had been complaining to you about the whole tour. Jiyong, as usual, killed it and the show continued on. But as the intro for Bae Bae started you noticed your boyfriend walking towards you. That wasn’t right. Before you knew it he collapsed in front of you. “Jiyong!” You shouted. Before you could get to him the crew had surrounded him. Your heart raced as you watched them fan him off, helping him change into his jacket. As he stood back up, your hand brushed his gently and he offered you a small smile before rushing back onstage. 

A few minutes later, he was back on the ground in front of you, this time you refused to be pushed to the back. You brushed his hair out of his face, pleading for him to wake back up. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as he came too. You, as well as the crew helped him to a sitting position and your hand went to rest on his as you handed him water, trying your best to not show the panic on your face. “You don’t have to finish, they can do without you.” He shook his head as he gulped down the water. “Have to finish.” 

You knew that would always be his answer and as much as you didn’t want him to go back out there, you helped him to his feet anyway. The dancers and Seunghyun were close behind and you exchanged a look with his best friend. Begging him to take care of him out there. “You’re sure?” You asked and he replied with a nod, kissing your temple before turning back to the stage. You could tell he still wasn’t with it, sweat was dripping down his face as he took his place amongst the dancers.

Jiyong wasn’t going to disappoint his fans though, and proceeded to give it his all out there. You didn’t only thing you could, and watched on. You weren’t even sure you were breathing as the song came to an end. The lights dimmed and in a flash, he was backstage the rest of the guys left to entertain the crowd.  You walked over to wear he was panting on the ground and kneeled down next to him, a rag in hand. “What do you need?” You whispered as you wiped the sweat off his face. 

He shook his head, his hand coming to rest on his chest and he let out a shaky breath. “Just need a minute.” You nodded, your hand going to rest on his and let out a breath. You couldn’t remember a time in your life where you’d been this scared in your life. But he was here, he was talking, he’d be ok. As the guys came backstage you went to move so they could check on him, but Jiyong clutched your hand tightly, a pleading look in his eyes. “Stay.” You weren’t going anywhere. 

After getting fully checked out, Jiyong decided he was well enough to finish the show, and you watched on nervously throughout the rest of the night. He seemed more like himself on stage. But he’d also seemed fine that morning and now you’d watched him faint twice.  Once the show was over, he met you back in the dressing room, the exhaustion still evident on his face. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” 

He nodded, but before you could move his arms were back around you, his chin resting on your head. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, breathing in his scent. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know that I would’ve had the confidence to get back out there if you weren’t here. I promise I’ll take it easier on myself the rest of the tour. I love you.” 

You nodded your head as he spoke, as horrible as the situation had been, you were just glad you could be there for him in some way. “I love you too. Are you sure you’re ok?” He smiled at you as he pulled away, “Yeah I’m good. I have you.” There it was again, those words that always made you melt. You grabbed his hand, leading him out of the room and towards the car. Even if the tour was almost over you vowed to yourself you’d do whatever it took to keep Jiyong healthy for the rest of the shows. 

Tag list:  @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi

[causenessus]

comforting you. | bungou stray dogs

inc. chuuya, dazai, ranpo, odasaku

written is second pov (no gendered pronouns used)

"you deserve this." by men i trust

word count: 4.6k words

notes/warnings: separate scenarios for each bsd man and how they comfort you when you’re feeling down, giving you both love and realistic advice. i feel like i bounced between writing generalized headcanons and hyperspecific scenarios, so i’m sorry but i hope you enjoy this <3 each of you is deserving of so much love and patience <3 you deserve to be here <3 each pairing is in an established relationship. also (relevant for odasku’s scenario), the orphans are still alive. my writing my universe. i'm actually beastzai in another au where everyone lives and is happy and everything is okay. use of pet names "sweetheart" (chuuya scenario) "angel" (dazai scenario) and "love" (oda). general hurt/comfort drabbles :) lmk if I should add anything! i would NOT consider this proofread because I read it half-asleep at midnight trying to edit it so forgive me for any mistakes 🙏

special shoutouts to @dorotheasdiary + @aouzi for hyping me up/listening to my rambles abt this work!! sorry for the tag </3

chuuya.

sometimes the urge to give up became too strong. 

was it too much to ask time to stop for just one day? it seemed all your pleas to the sky were falling on deaf ears.

still, as all things do, you eventually lost the motivation to keep pushing forward on your own.

like a runner who trips upon a small pebble and can’t get back into their pace, slowly, slowly falling behind the others.

the one difference was that you had come to a complete stop. you'd never allowed yourself a break until you were completely burnt out; unable to move even a muscle.

you haven’t even made it out of bed the whole day. 

the room was starting to feel sick and stuffy with how long you’d laid in those sheets that no longer seemed to provide any comfort. rather, you felt like you were simply dirtying the sheets by continuing to lie there, purposeless, useless.

you barely had it in you to call out of work before drifting back into a mundane sleep that you continued to wake up and fall back into for the better half of the day. you hadn’t looked at your phone after sending a quick text to your manager, unprepared for whatever kind of passive-aggressive response they'd messaged back with because of your late notice. the unknown was too much right now, you couldn't focus on anyone you couldn't read but yourself. you didn’t want to be around friends, family, or people out on the street, where your mind would run rapid laps around itself, trying to figure out what everyone thought of you.

at work, it was the same; sizing yourself up to your coworkers, figuring out how well-liked you were— how replaceable you would be if one day you suddenly up and dropped, or, more likely in your mind, you annoyed everyone enough that they let you go. 

never really knowing what others thought terrified you. obviously it wasn't the norm despite living in a world filled with those gifted with abilities to be able to read another's mind but that didn’t mean your mind could simply let the anxieties go. your head always seemed to be buzzing, preoccupied with concerns about something.

which is why you had tried to block everything out, the moment you woke up this morning and every rustle of your legs tumbled in the sheets was too loud for your ears; a playlist of music on shuffle played softly from your phone nearby, giving your brain something mindless to focus on while you had your head pressed between pillows to deafen out the rest of the world.

you didn’t feel any better or any energized despite how much you had slept today, but at the very least, sleep often took you away from constantly having to listen to whatever your mind wanted to rave and overthink next.

'what time is it? have i even gotten up once today? i should at least walk around. clean up. i'll never be motivated to get out of bed like this—' there your head went, taking one simple question and turning it into spindles of chains to wrap around your throat.

but when you feel the mattress sink beside you, suddenly everything goes quiet. the sheets become just sheets again–not something you’re sinking into or dirtying. someone has opened the curtains, revealing an orange sunset outside, and something nice is playing from the speaker of your phone, you realize.

he is the only one who doesn’t make your head spin. he is your grounding anchor, the gravitational force keeping your feet planted on this earth, opening your eyes to the beauty of the world you couldn’t otherwise see due your own anxieties.

“you been here all day?” he must have snuck in without you even hearing him (which isn’t hard to believe, considering the cushions you’d just been pressing to both of your ears), even giving him enough time to change. chuuya’s hair is still in a loose ponytail and he wears that black choker around his neck as always, but he’s dressed in a white shirt and some sweatpants, his gloveless hands reaching out to rub circles in your back.

he’s bare with you, and that’s what you love most about him.

you’ve had you’re insecurities about not being good enough for him and anything else typical within a relationship, but he never leaves you wondering. he grabs your hand to keep you from floating away too far, getting lost in your own thoughts, often pulling you back into the moment, when you’re lying in bed with him on quiet nights, the sides of your faces only lit by a nearby warm bedside lamp. he’ll trace the side of your face, searching your eyes, asking, “where did you go?”

and you can’t always answer, but you know, every time he asks you this question, that at least you can tell him where you are now. you’re at home with him. 

and this moment is no different, with his calloused hands gliding up and down your back, and you only let out a small whine, shuffling closer to him as best as you can with how tangled you are up in his sheets.

“what’s wrong?” he asks softly, head tilting towards you slightly as you shimmy closer. “how can i help, sweetheart?”

you like how clear he is. how he always tells you what he’s thinking. he never leaves anything up to interpretation, always silencing your thoughts before they can make an assumption and run far with it.

while in the beginning of your relationship, it was hard to always voice what you needed, you came to realize with time that when chuuya asked you what he could do to help, it wasn’t him pressuring you to tell him what was wrong. it was simply how his head worked; he wanted you to be clear about what you needed. if that meant talking out your problems, he would listen. if that meant leaving you alone, he’d give you as much time as you needed (albeit probably checking in at some points just to make sure you didn’t need anything, it was just his nature to care for you). but all in all, he just needed you to talk to him. he would talk to you, you would talk to him. that's how miscommunication was prevented. your mind always felt so clear when you were around him because of how rationally he seemed to think of everything—all you had to do was follow his lead, and everything else came easily. things were never sugar-coated between the two of you, they were said plain and simple. (and with how charming he was, chuuya’s words often ended up being just as sweet as sugar anyway, not even needing to be wrapped up in some false front. when he said “i love you,” it was something clear. a fact, not something said just to appease you or mellow things out, he said it because he meant it).

and how refreshing it was, being lost in a sea of your own murky, unclear thoughts based off of assumptions upon assumptions, to be pulled from that ocean to the shoreline and be promised that the sun would rise again.

eventually, opening up to him became easier. even thought it sometimes took a few hours, you always ended up telling him what was on your mind and he waited patiently every time. he only ever listened unless you asked for more, and he never invalidated your feelings. trusting that he was just going to listen to you, it began to take even less time to prepare yourself to open up. it became as easy as taking a sip of water; something you had to do voluntarily, but was still needed, healing, and often refreshing.

the pitch of your voice slightly heightens as you hum a “yes” in response to his question, curling up closer to him, and his fingers have found their way into your hair, combing through it. “got tired of everything,” you whisper softly, resting your forehead against the side of his thigh, thankful for his contact.

“yeah? i’m sure you did, baby. you’re doing a lot. it’s good to take a break every now and then. anything in particular spur you to take the day off? there’s no shame in just deciding to take a rest day for the hell of it either, though,” he speaks as gently as his actions, shifting slightly on the bed so that you can rest more comfortably, your head now laying in his lap, and he brushes your hair out of your face as you look up at him and his pretty bangs framing his face as he leans down towards you.

you hum in thought at the question, searching your brain for the answer. was there something that had triggered you to break today? or was it just the build-up of it all? “not really anything in particular,” you shrug slightly, still admiring his golden-brown eyes, hooded and soft, gazing into your own, “just felt like everything came toppling down today. i’ve just been thinking too much about what others think of me. i don’t feel that important to the world, or my job. i’m easily replaceable–nothing special–and yet i have to keep fighting for this job. i have to fight to occupy space for myself in the world when i never even asked to be here in the first place. —and of course you make everything better but i mean–you know me. you’re good to me. you’re too good to me. and sometimes i can’t understand why you waste all of that goodness in you on me.” by the time you’re finished, he’s gently lifted your head out of his lap to lay down on his side next to you, continuing to face you the entire time. 

you finish your long-winded explanation of unreasonable worries, and he only stares into your face, and you begin to shift under his eyes uncomfortably. his head his propped up in his hands, and he wears a small smile on his face, eyes flicking every few moments to focus on a different part of your face. “...chuu?” you whisper his name quietly, and his smile only grows.

“sorry, got too caught up admiring your pretty face,” he apologizes, and there he goes again, being so honest it makes your heart squeeze sometimes. he shifts his position slightly, reaching out his free hand to intertwine his slender fingers with yours, gently pressing the pads of his fingertips against your own, playing with them. “well, first of all, don’t think of your life through the lens that you are now. you can’t control or read anyone else’s mind, and that’s okay. people make a lot of irrational decisions anyway, it’s impossible to predict what someone will do, so don’t worry about what they think. what makes how they perceive you or what they think more correct than what you feel? they could be totally wrong about something, and they are if they think you’re replaceable, or bad, or whatever. don’t make yourself smaller for anyone else. you’re so smart and thoughtful and if anyone makes you feel bad about who you are, i’ll talk shit back to them, alright?”

you nod at his words but don’t meet his attempt to lighten the mood, only shifting closer again, hiding your face in his chest, breathing in his scent. his hand is back on your head, keeping you close while combing through your hair. “i think you're perfect as you are, [y/n]. i wouldn't want you any other way. you're the only thing on my mind all the time and you’re all i think about—if you're worried about what goes through my mind. i'll always be here for you, i'll be right behind you even if the world is against you. all you need is me, i’d burn everything to the ground for you in a heartbeat."

dazai.

as a kid, you quickly learned not to fight back. 

others were allowed to be angry and lash out, but when you did the same, it was wrong wrong wrong.

when you were young, you learned that love was conditional.

there was no understanding when it came to your emotions. no matter the kind of day that you had you were still expected to always be kind and patient, and never yell back.

to be loved–or rather, to simply survive in this world, you had to be the smaller person; never expect someone to love you for who you are, but because they like that you’re agreeable, quiet, and passive. never expect anyone to care about how you feel, no matter how close of a friend they are.

and surely, you couldn’t expect any kind of empathy from a coworker.

but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, and you could feel the way your chest contracted, suffocating with you, every time you were the brunt of kunikida’s critiques. there was no middle between letting the man belittle you to a husk of your former self or the scariest option of all: say something and risk your dynamic with him worsening even more.

setting boundaries and speaking your mind had never been things that came easy to you, as admitting that something was wrong in your relationship with someone always seemed to leave a gaping hole in the relationship that would always be prevalent, at least to you. telling someone who seemed to be unaware of how unkind their words were “you’re hurting me” seemed to always make things awkward between you and the other party. they realized they could no longer throw you around and every time they left, you couldn't help but think you should've dealt with it and kept your mouth shut. 

so you smile and nod along to whatever kunikida’s ordering you to do next, fake laughing when he says something about how important the job is and to make sure you don’t fail, as if such an option was even possible. you had never messed up anything he asked you to do, and with how long he went on about the importance of the job, you never planned to. but his ending words always reminded you of how little your efforts seemed to matter to him. he would never trust you or see you as anything better than just a little office worker to dump work on.

your face drops as soon as the man turns his back to you, and you let out a quiet sigh before returning to the laptop in front of you before hands upon your shoulders scare you.

“caught you!” a voice pops up from behind you, making you exclaim, jumping in your seat, whipping your head around to see a familiar brown-haired man. he was always causing problems for kunikida and getting scolded, and yet he seemed to be able to take everything as a light-hearted joke. he came into work every day with a smile on his face and new ways to irritate kunikida, while you couldn’t see yourself ever returning to this office if that man yelled at you the way he yelled at the boy in front of you even once.

“dazai! you scared me,” your eyes follow him as he slides into the chair next to you, slightly rolling away from you with how he’d launched himself into the seat. “what did you…catch?” you ask, watching as he scoots closer back to you again, resting his cheek on a bandaged arm atop of the oak desk you both sit at.

“now, now. let's not try and act all innocent. why are you letting him talk to you like that if it hurts you?” he asks with a smile, while your face only pales, your heart completely freezing up the moment you hear the question you fear most. you have to tear your eyes away before he sees through you anymore, and you look down into your lap, where you’re picking at your fingers. if dazai noticed it, surely others did. had kunikida been able to read your face? had you offended him because you refused to communicate your true feelings with him? maybe you seemed like a stuck-up individual in his eyes if he could tell that you were faking with him, and you weren’t sure if him believing that lie or finding out the truth would be worse.

“well i…” you trail off when his fingers come into your line of sight, intertwining them with yours, stopping you from the bad habit.

“have i ever gotten upset with you for very understandably getting annoyed at my endless antics? have we ever disagreed on something we absolutely refused to resolve? no to both. but are humans creatures of imperfection by nature? have we all made mistakes? yes, and that’s why they’re able to forgive each other unless they’re insufferably stuck up. but don’t let your head turn kunikida into a monster he’s not. he’ll understand if you ask him to speak to you less directly, or with more belief in you. he’s giving you these jobs because he trusts you, you know. he just rambles on about the importance of them because that’s who he is. you know that, and you know him. you know he’ll work to treat others with the respect they deserve, you just have to tell him so first. but he’s not going to get mad at you,” your eyes flick up from where he’s running a thumb along your knuckles up to him, only to find him already looking at you with those warm hazel brown eyes of his. he’s right, and it feels nice to be seen and not bashed for your true feelings. instead, you're being understood. under his gaze, you no longer feel weak for how sensitive or emotional you may feel. he’s looking at you like you’re worth something, worth enough that you can fight for yourself, worth enough to deserve to be comfortable in your relationships, rather than used by those near you.

“thank you,” you mumble, and he’s pulled you close by the wheels of your own chair, your knees knocking as one of his hands reach up to caress the back of your neck, soothing you further as you continue to look at him.

his lips are still curved into a smile, not the trickster one he wears as he comes up with his next plot to harass kunikida, but a soft, genuine one, like he loves and cares about you, without you even asking anything of him. maybe this is what love is; being looked at and known, without even having to open your mouth.

“of course, angel,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against the back of your scalp, “bring it up while atsuhi or i are around if you want, we’ll help you explain how you feel. you’re not alone, you never were and you never have to be."

ranpo.

ranpo’s heightened abilities to observe, infer, and understand go far past anything related to his detective work. 

the first time he found you feeling down and wanted to comfort you, he defaulted to what he knows helps him feel better (i.e. sweet treats, dim lights, warm, quiet environments). the entire time, while his hand is on your back, rubbing it soothingly as you lean against him, soft cries muffled by the blanket he’s placed over you, his brain is running the entire time with what he can do best to support you; did you like what he brung you? do you prefer to isolate yourself or do you like the company when you’re feeling down? blankets or no blankets? do you want him to talk to you and try to provide a distraction or is just being there for you what you need? touch, or no touch?

ranpo is so attentive to your needs. whatever you want and is best for you, he will get you and do for you. he gives all thanks to fukuzawa, for helping him realize not everyone sees the world the way he does, all those years ago. since then, he’s learned to be more responsive, emotionally thoughtful, and soft-hearted in his responses if that’s that what you need. but if you want to hear logic and how he’s rationalizing out your situation, he can do that, too. again, he is completely willing to bend and shape himself to your needs. the only thing he will always push for is to be in a room with you when you’re feeling down, even if you don’t want company </3

he knows when you really need to be alone, but he doesn’t like to let you be on your own for too long. he’ll always be in the next room over if you need anything, quietly pacing the room, only worried and thinking of you and if he can do anything more for you. if you’re curled up in bed all night, he’ll eventually knock on the door to ask if he can sleep with you and keep you company. he wholeheartedly believes letting other people help you and be there for you helps, especially to prevent you from spiraling down any pits of despair or insecurity. he wants you to know how much he cares about you and your wellbeing, he wants to be there to hold you close, press gentle kisses to your head, and murmur promises that he’ll never ever leave you alone.

but if you say no to company, he is happy to sleep on the couch and will be up the moment you call his name if you need something or decide you do want company. he is there completely for you always and whenever, and all of it comes from a place of love. he’ll never push you to do anything or tell him anything you don’t want to, and he’ll try not to infer anything even if he knows he could use context clues to find out exactly what’s upsetting you. he knows you’ll tell him when you’re ready if you want to, and it’s never his job to be in your business. his only responsibility is to love you and make sure you know it <3

oda.

you’ve never been great at facing your own problems, and you’re even worse at facing others in your time of struggle. it feels impossible to rely upon anyone, no matter how close they are to you.

sakunosuke oda is a selfless man, always taking care of others, putting their wellbeing above his own. he took in five orphans despite knowing the increased risk to his own safety that would come with taking care of them, and he still chose to do it despite not having a place of his own to take care of them at. he gives half of his wage as one of the lowest-ranking members of the port mafia to the kids every time he receives his salary and he’s never once deviated from the habit.

you know he’d drop everything for you if you told him what was wrong, but you couldn’t do that to him. it didn’t feel that serious. and worst of all, telling him how you were feeling would only cause him to cut his job short and then he’d be standing there with you while you continued to wallow in misery; of course his presence would help you feel better, but it wouldn’t immediately solve everything.

it wasn’t worth it. was your justification as you slipped out of your shared apartment. it wasn’t worth telling someone else how you were feeling, because they couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t solve it. you couldn’t even figure out for yourself what was wrong. you had to make your existence worth it instead, then. the best way you found, to distract yourself from your feelings and make sure they remained pushed down, was by helping others. no one whose in need of help often asks how others are truly doing, and you like that about them.

you don’t tell him where you’re going. you have nothing to hide; you just don’t want to worry him. you’ll tell him if he asks, but for now, you’re on your own.

but what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t know you? if he hadn’t memorized and kissed every mole, freckle, and blemish adorning your body? he knew you better than you realized, although you could never fully accept the fact that he paid attention to you, remembered your likes and dislikes, and knew your habits and routines like the back of his hand, all just because he loves you.

and when he comes home from work to an empty house, searching for any traces of you, he’s not worried. he has an idea of where you are and he knows that all he needs to do is text you, if he's curious. and he doesn’t immediately push his assumptions onto you about why you might be out and where; he knows you can take care of yourself and that you’ll communicate your needs to him. so when he texts you, it's not that he's demanding that you come home or ot tell him your whereabouts. rather, his texts are just to let you know he cares and is waiting for you at home.

sakunosuke ♡ : i’m home, just wanted to let you know

sakunosuke ♡ : text me if you need anything. and be safe

if he sees that you haven’t at least read his message within an hour or if he just can't wait to see you when you get home, whenever that may be, he already knows where to find you nine times out of 10. he’ll text the owner of his favorite curry shop, asking him if he’s seen you while already on his way down to the restaurant.

it's usually where he can find you there when you’re feeling down; braiding sakura’s hair, folding their laundry, coloring with one of the boys, helping out downstairs in the kitchen, or wherever else you can find a place to keep yourself busy. he knows that you’re always like this when you’re upset, and if you won’t take the day off to take care of yourself, then he will do it for you happily and well. he won’t even try to pull you away from what you’re doing–he’ll simply sit down with you, grabbing his own colored pencil while making small talk with the kids, giving you a small smile when you realize he's come into the room. or suddenly he’s next to you, helping you carry and hang up laundry, or drying off the dishes you’re washing.

and then before you know it, you’re walking home with him, hand in hand, a plastic bag rustling in his free one. you’ve both stopped to get food on the way home, and once you make it there, he’s immediately sitting you down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “let me do everything, love.” he’ll help you out of your clothes into something more comfortable, holding your hair back while you wash your face and clean up, he’ll pull your chair out for you as you sit back down, and run a hand through your hair, keeping any stray strands out of your face as you eat. 

outside of the house, you can bury your feelings as much as you want to and work to please others, but at home with him, you’re the focus. you’re the one who’s honored and worshipped in the house. sakunosuke’s not letting you lift a finger if he can help it, and you can’t get away with continuing to ignore your feelings when his only desire is to help you.

and you’ll tell him what’s bothering you when you’re ready. he knows that after how long you both have been together. and so in the meantime, he’ll wait patiently, showering you with all the love in the world. ♡

[awritesthings1]

Midnight Interlude

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: You try to convince Tommy, your husband, to come back to sleep.

ao3 link

-

You awoke quietly in the middle of the night, feeling the weight of your slumber resting beneath your eyes. Too tired to lift your eyelids, you shifted in the bed, searching for the comforting cradle of your husband’s arms, only to find the space beside you cold and empty.

Weakly, you opened your eyes to the dark bedroom. Blinking sleepily, you waited for your senses to adjust while attempting to recall if Tommy had mentioned anything about going on a business trip. Your head ached. Where was that Tommy of yours? You weren’t even able to think because your brain was still buzzing from a peculiar dream. Regardless, you were freezing, and without Tommy to keep you warm, you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. You cursed, pressing a cold hand to your flushed head. Your nose squirmed at the bitter air.

You weren’t sure how many sleepless nights you could endure without your husband. Lately, he had been going on more business trips than usual and staying up late in his office. You went to sleep before him, and by the time you woke up, he was usually already going about his morning. It was if you married a ghost.

The sheets rustled when you swung your feet to the floor. You stretched your arms awake and rolled your neck to the side, receiving a satisfactory pop in return. Wrapping a silk night gown around your body, you left the bedroom, stifling a yawn as you reached his office, where you heard the cackling of candles and the amber hum peeking through from the crack beneath the door. You twisted the nob slowly, careful not to startle Tommy, and entered the room.

“Tommy? You’re still up," you croaked, rubbing at your tired eyes.

Your toes curled as a shiver passed through your body. The wooden floors of your husband’s office were always deathly cold. And where was that ambitious old soul of his? Hunched over his messy desk, squinting through his glasses as he appeared to be reading over a letter. His marble contours were more sunken each night. His thumbs twitched and fiddled with a fountain pen as if they couldn’t bear to do anything but work. The top buttons of his white blouse (that you were always sure to iron the night before) pealed back to reveal a sliver of skin that you would stare at some nights to ensure he didn’t die working himself to death.

You loved him. God, you loved him. You loved him in a way that certainly would disgust the wives from the country houses down the lane. They loved their husbands in a plain and simple way. Margaret had gushed to you about her marriage and how she had fallen into a timely routine with her husband, dancing around the clock until they fell asleep on a wonderfully fluffy mattress. You stuck your tongue in your cheek. That wasn’t love; that was what men told women love was—a choreographed routine. Tommy was different. He loved you hard. Not just because he was a man and that’s what men were supposed to do, but because he lived and breathed everything he did, even if it killed him.

“I need to write something down." Tommy cleared his throat, too distracted to look up from the letter.

If you were any other woman, you would mistake his tone for annoyance. Not you. The hollow under his eyes spoke for him. Your poor husband never knew when to rest. Even when the moonlight poured in from the window and his hands were stained with ink, that mind of his clicked away into a world only accessible to him. It must be a burden, you think, to have the intellect Tommy had—to be three steps in front of everyone else. Talking to the ladies at the country club exhausted you sometimes because all they seemed to care about was the latest silks and décor from an exotic country or babies with chubby cheeks. It had to feel something like that, like sugar rotting your teeth.

“You’ll have time in the morning,” you insisted, leaning against the doorframe and pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

The candlelight began to flicker as it neared the end of its wick.

Tommy wet his lips. “I have an early meeting out of town.”

Your shoulders fell. You knew who Tommy was and the priorities he had to balance. His work was important to him, and he did it for his family. That included you, too. But at hours like these, when your nightgown wasn’t enough to keep you warm, you craved the comfort of his arms.

“Come back to sleep,” you whispered, crossing the threshold of the office to stand behind him, where he was hunched over on his chair, writing something down.

Tommy relaxed as you began to massage his shoulders. Those eyes that painted you blue on winter nights fell closed for a moment. His hand itched for his whiskey, resting on the icy glass but never raising it to his lips. Several cigarette butts were discarded on his ash tray, some still puffing smoke. He smelled like a mixture of the two. You remember when you were younger how your nose would scrunch up at the scent of his cigarettes. Now, it was oddly comforting.

“I need to finish writing this letter,” Tommy drawled, reaching for the cigarette case that was buried under a file of papers.

As he pinched one out, you grabbed the match box that had been sitting on the windowsill and struck a match to light it as he perched it between his lips. When the end of it lit up, Tommy took a deep drag.

“You’re a man, Tommy, not a god. You need sleep,” you sighed, squeezing his tensed shoulders.

“Not yet." Smoke escaped his mouth in light puffs as he spoke.

You blinked slowly. “Well, I’m going back to sleep.” It was a half-truth. You were never able to fall asleep after waking up in the middle of the night, especially without Tommy by your side.

Tommy’s rough palm covered your hand, which was resting on his shoulder. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.”

That was never true. Every time Tommy was gone, the room stank of it. His presence consumed Arrow House; it was as if the walls were made from his flesh and bone. And when he was away, it felt like you were living in a stranger’s home. The paintings on the wall were of a random family, and his office sat as if it were abandoned in a hurry. It was only when he returned that the colors bled back into the walls and you realized you were home.

You leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on his sharp jaw. He inhaled sharply through his nose. You noticed his attention had drifted from the letter and was now focused on the chandelier.

“Where’s that husband of mine? Hm?”

Tommy continued to take large drags from the cigarette while the both of you bathed in the crackling of the dying candlelight. Eventually, it burned out, and Tommy tapped the butt of his cigarette into the ash tray before setting it down to lean back on his chair. Now dark, he let you slip your hand from beneath his as you straightened your back and ran your nails through his scalp.

He groaned deep and nasally, fluttering his eyes closed. The tip of his tongue wet his bottom lip, and when your pupils adjusted to the dark, you saw the cogs in his head shutting off.

“Come back to sleep.”

“Alright,” he nodded with a grunt.

Most women would have said it was a miracle, not your Tommy. There was no holy spirit that possessed him to say yes. He chose to do so on his own account.

You rode that thought with a smile, turning his head to the side so you could lay a kiss on his forehead.

God, you loved him, you loved him, you loved him.

He sighed deeply, blinking lazily at his hands, which rested on his knees, before standing up. Both Tommy and his chair groaned at the movement. You hushed him and walked him to your shared bedroom, hand in hand. There, you carefully unbuttoned his blouse and slid his suspenders down his broad shoulders. Slowly but surely, you undressed him while his tired eyes watched you.

When you were younger, those eyes terrified you the same way a duck feared a rifle. What you never saw was the love they held behind glaciers of blue. Tommy made sure you saw it ever since. The ink on his hands was dry by the time they came to cup your face. His affectionate touch made more than your heart throb, but the both of you were too exhausted to do anything about it.

You settled for a kiss that he pressed against your lips. It wasn’t passionate or hungry like it usually was, but tender and firm. You loved it all the same.

“I love you." His breath settled on your skin like a warm blanket.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, letting Tommy carry the weight of your head between his hands. You hummed when he brushed his knuckles gingerly across your cheekbones.

“I love you, too. Now, let’s get to bed before the sun rises,” you smiled, blinking up at him.

He kissed the top of your head, winding his tired arms around your frame to hold you against his chest. He hummed agreeably into your hair, letting his eyes flutter shut. Your arms wrapped themselves around his waist as he held you. You treasured small, fleeting moments like this. It wasn’t often that Thomas Shelby left his boots on the office floor and melted into a puddle. You think that made it all the more special. Your Thomas Shelby, the decorated soldier, the family businessman, and the hardened gangster could step away and become your favorite thing—a loving husband.

By the time you had both settled into the bed, the sheets were still warm, and the moon was still out. Tommy was resting on his side, with his arm draped around your waist as he snored lightly into your neck. Outside the window, the wind howled and crashed against the pane like winter waves. You felt none of it. Tommy’s body acted as a heater, protecting you from the numbing chill that waited at the edge of the covers, threatening to nip at your skin. You smiled, nuzzling deeper into his embrace. Here in the cradle of his arms, nothing could touch you.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.