#my plates are rattling in the kitchen cabinets

[athousandsuns2010]

its so windy today its actually shaking the walls a bit wtf

[pseudowho]

"Kento...can I...can I paint you?"

Kento glanced back over his shoulder, sleepy, to where you sat massaging knots out of his back. He didn't know why he'd bothered perusing his shelves beforehand; your hands had moulded and made him heavy, and he sunk, unbidden, his book forgotten and his eyelids made of lead, groaning in bliss.

Your eyes traced Kento's back...his arms...his hands. All ripped and reformed, broken and made stronger, the scars (both old and new), criss-crossing him, his life-story turned roadmap.

At some points, Kento's body seemed as though it would last centuries and end up in a museum somewhere, with futuristic admirers who did not know him as you did. At other points, he was just a porcelain man, full of cracks, to be handled with care lest he break.

Kento hummed; a cover-all rumble, unsure.

"...paint me?" He teased, a coy half-smile on the corner of his mouth. "Like one of your French girls?"

You laughed, kissing his shoulder blades, still stroking those seams of pink flesh with your fingertips. He shuddered, the hairs on the base of his undercut standing on end.

"Not quite...do you trust me?"

"Yes." No hesitation.

"Then just...close your eyes."

Kento huffed through his nose, leaning forwards on his elbows and clasped calloused hands. He heard you rattling around behind him, the tap running, the soft dompf of you resettling on the sofa. More rattling, and your quiet voice.

"Stay still..."

Kento jumped, shivering as the tip of a fine, wet brush licked at the skin on his shoulder blade. He hummed again, dubious.

"Oh...you meant paint me."

"Semantics."

"Bless you."

You laughed at his gentle idiocy. "Keep still."

In truth, as your brush traced idle patterns over his shoulder, his arm, and his hand, Kento didn't need to be told to keep his eyes closed even once. He meant it when he said he trusted you; and he meant it when your presence rocked him to sleep. Time lost meaning as he dozed, sat like The Thinker as you finally removed your brush from his hand.

"There. All done."

Kento opened his eyes...to art.

Patches of the back of his hand had been brushed matte with a soft jade green, fading out against peach flesh. Through the jade, where pink seams had once scored the skin, they now ran golden, liquid beauty joining the edges of his pain and history. And it was...lovely.

Kento swallowed thickly, laid bare beneath your eyes. He gently flexed his hand, seeing how the green and gold flexed with him, held together by your very own repairs. He tracked more and more patches up his forearm, his bicep, over his shoulder...

Kento was quiet, stoic, vulnerable. He whispered, as you took lamplit photos of your work. "I adore you."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Christmas had come and gone, and still, Kento did not allow you to touch him as he once did.

The air between you was as taut as the flesh of his left side. You washed the dishes, and he dried, kept company only by the hush of the taps and clink of the plates. Kento reached for a mug with his left hand, and, numb-fingered, dropped it with a spitting curse, to where it shattered beyond repair around your feet.

Barefoot, and pausing with an oh!, you lifted your foot as if to move, and Kento berated you, growling, snapping.

"Stay where you are."

"Kento, it's alright, I'll get it--"

"No. It's my mess. My fault. Sit down."

"Really, it's fine--" Your words cut off with a squeak, as one strong arm looped around your waist. Kento grunted as he lifted you out of the shards with ease, to his body, only to drop you to safety the moment your hands began to brush his bare chest.

"Sit down." Kento rumbled, dark and sullen, his one good eye glowering at you beside the patch. You prickled, rejected. You refused to sit. Watching Kento, as he finished vacuuming, your eyes drifted without thought between him, and your paint set in the chest beneath the kitchen cabinet.

On his way over to the sofa, Kento spotted you, and scoffed, hissing with pain as he dropped himself to sit. He sneered, nasty.

"Sorry, my love. Not enough gold in that box to repair me."

You gritted your teeth, your mouth twisted in disgust, tears in your eyes. You pushed your chair away in a tearful rage, and padded over to Kento, fast, determined.

The briefest flicker of alarm crossed his half-burned face as you straddled him, trapping him to the sofa with a hand on each cheek. You spat, forcing him to see you, gripping him down as he writhed to get away.

"Then I'll break into palaces. I'll rob museums. I'll be a thief in the night. Because they don't deserve it, not like you do."

Kento cursed at you, twisting like a rat in a trap, and you held on tighter, sick of being pushed away, and you forced the words out of you as tears spilled over to drop onto his chest.

"And if there's not enough gold there then I'll melt myself down, but you don't need gold because you're not broken--"

"--get off me-- let me go--"

"No." You cried, looping your arms around his neck, your core pressed to his. The air stilled, his rejection rejected.

You panted, your shoulders heaving, weeping into his neck. Kento and you sat this way in silence, the tap still running and forgotten, your sniffles muffled into his neck. You felt him soften, his hands coming to rest on your hips, stroking you.

Kento's voice was thick, agonised. "You...deserve someone whole."

"I don't want them. They're nothing to me. It's you, or no-one."

Kento's teeth bared, his face stinging as it crumpled, salty tears washing away the grief. He gripped onto you, the fracture not breaking under stress; the bond, golden.

And when you finally did paint him, how he shone.

[queenimmadolla]

Hey hun, Ive got a horrible chest cold AND im on my period at the same time, so as you can imagine I feel like a dumpster shit fire right now. If its possible could you do a little drabble where Eddie is nursing a sick reader. If not i totally understand I know youve got a lot on your plate atm. Thanks hun, love ya ❤️

happy to drop everything to nurse one of our own back to health 🫡. hope this helps make you feel better!

“I’m dying.” You whined from the mounds of blankets you were surrounded by, with a pathetic sniffle.

  “You’re not dying.” Eddie refuted, as he measured out your medicine, pouring the bitter syrupy liquid into the cap you’d have to throw back. He was also trying to hide his grin.

  It’s not that Eddie liked it when you were sick, but now that the two of you lived together—in a crappy one bedroom apartment that was the best thing in the world because it was yours—he could nurse you back to health, take care of you. And if you just so happened to be extra cuddly whenever you were sick, that was just a plus.

  It was domestic. 

  Eddie loved living with you, even if you left all the bottom cabinet doors open whenever you retrieved something and he’d bust his knee against them, loved that you were the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes in the morning and the last thing he glimpsed before falling asleep. Loved brushing his teeth in the mirror with you at his side doing the same thing, loved how he had a five minute window to convince you it was a good idea for the two of you to just stay home together instead of parting to go out into the world. Most of all, he loved being able to look up from whatever he was doing, be it planning out future Hellfire sessions or working on a new song or even catching up on his reading, to see you curled into the loveseat, or in the kitchen, hear you humming as you walked down the hall. 

  Existing around him.

  Co-existing with you was something Eddie wanted to do forever. If this was married life, Eddie would be on his knee the second you felt better. 

  “I’m dying.” You reaffirmed, scowling when Eddie turned around and you caught sight of the yellow–never a good tasting color for medicine–liquid filled measuring cap in Eddie’s large grasp. 

“You’re not dying on me, baby. I refuse to let that happen. Now, take your medicine so we can make sure it doesn’t.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, medicine held out to you.

  Gingerly, you grasped it and when he reached for the orange juice on your side table, you switched up, “You know what? You’re right. I’m not dying. I feel better already.”

  “Drink the medicine,” Eddie smirked, handing you the glass. 

  “But it’s Prescription.” Your frown deepened, tongue already assaulted by the idea of what it would taste like. Eddie had taken you to the doctor’s yesterday morning and picked up your prescription after so you’d had the pleasure of taking it three times already. 

  It was a nasty son of bitch.

  “Which means you’ll get better faster. Drink.”

  You gave him one last glare before downing the medicine like a shot. Your face contorted in disgust and Eddie chuckled as you hurried to take a drink of your orange juice to wash the taste away.

  “That’s poison.” You croaked, handing Eddie the juice and empty medicine cup before settling back into your pillows with a pout just as an onslaught of coughs hit you, sending you into a fit you muffled against your inner elbow. 

  Eddie could hear your chest rattle with them and placed your medicine cup and glass down on the bedside table so he could rub your back.

  Once your coughing fit had subsided, you took a couple of shaky breaths before glaring up at him again, “It didn’t work.”

  Eddie rolled his eyes and nudged you over, much to your surprise. The bed was littered with your used tissues, some having been coughed into and others containing your snot. Not exactly the place to want to be.

  “My poor, sweet, gross baby.” He cooed as he settled in behind you, pulling you right into his chest.

  You ignored the gross comment and protested even though you were curling right into him, nose nuzzling against his hoodie covered collar bone, eager for his warmth. Of course you’d gotten sick just as winter settled.

  “Eddie! You’re gonna get sick.” A pitiful argument considering you were already settled on him like a cat having found their new lounging spot. 

  “Oh, I know I am. Who cares? I slept next to you last night and woke up to a hill of your snotty tissues in my face so it’s already in my system. No use in denying myself the love of my life.” You felt his hand drift lower until he was patting your ass cheek. He wasn’t trying to start anything, it was just one of Eddie’s many love gestures. When he’d ask if he could squeeze your ass like it was some sort of stress ball to comfort him—that’s when he was going for it. 

  “It wouldn’t be in your system if you hadn’t insisted on still sleeping with me last night.” You reminded him and felt him shrug under you in response. You peaked up at him to see him relaxed, one arm propping his head up with the other holding you to him. His eyes were shut and a look of utter content was on his face. It was almost like he’d been the one to take the codeine. 

  “We didn’t move in together so I can avoid you, this is just some more experience for us. You deal with my morning breath, I deal with having our bed covered in germs when you’re sick.”  His hand began to stroke up and down your back and your eyes fluttered shut, the codeine making quick work of your system. 

  “Why am I the one suffering in both of those scenarios?” You slurred out.

  Eddie shook with laughter underneath you, “Shut up and go to sleep. I’ll make you some soup when you wake up, you jerk.” 

  You did fall asleep. And when you woke up, Eddie insisted on carrying you—because a chest cold apparently meant you couldn’t walk yourself anywhere—to the living room where you watched some television while he did his best to follow a recipe your mother had given him for a homemade soup she’d make whenever you were sick. 

And three days later, when you’d made a full recovery, Eddie developed a rattling cough. The ring he’d hidden in a pair of his shoes would just have to wait until you nursed him back to health.

[wjhik]

Maybe We Were a Bit Too Loud.. (Jude Bellingham) *Smut*

A/N: been a bit too many Jude stories. if yall have any trent requests pls send

Y/N's POV:

Jude and I have both been so occupied in our work, we have barely got any time to spend with our daughter, let alone ourselves. Kiera had a play at school, so I got off work early. Unfortunately, Jude couldn't make it. She was quite upset about it, but I made sure to make it up to her. We had a girls day. We went to the Salon and got our nails done. I needed a refill on my nails and she wanted to get some color for her birthday party in a few days. I also got her some ice cream and had a shopping spree.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Kiera yells. She really doesn't have to be so loud. I'm right next to her. It has been a long day. As fun as it was, it was fucking exhausting. I look at her and she shows me some toy that she has, explaining it as if I didn't buy it for her. "Honey, that's amazing." I play into her excitement. "Mum, I'm hungry." She tells me, abruptly dropping her toy. "Let's get you some food, my little hungry bunny." I say, scooping her up and kissing her tummy. She starts wriggling in a fit of ticklish laughter.

I finish making spaghetti Bolognese as per my hungry bunny's request. She's just like her father. I take out her Minnie Mouse plate from the kitchen cabinet and give her some pasta. I also pair it with some leftover mashed potato and some freshly steamed broccoli and carrots. "Mama! I don't like carrots!" Kiera yells, very politely. "I know, sweetheart, but if you don't want to end up with glasses like mama, you have to have them." I tell her. She's not a picky eater, unlike me, but carrots are her weakness. It's not fun waking up to see a blurry husband, and if she wants to escape my genetic curse of poor eyesight, she has to eat her carrot. "Hmph. Fine." She says, crossing her arms but still listening to me. She's such a blessing.

As I'm serving myself the spaghetti and the vegetables (purely to be a good roll model to my daughter) for myself, I hear the door lock rattling. I look up to see my husband walk through the door. "Daddy!!" Kiera yells, attempting to get off of our high counter chairs. Jude quickly walks to his carbon copy and picks her up. "Hello, my love." He says, littering her face with kisses and placing her back on her chair. She continues munching away at her veggies. "Mhh...Whatever you made smells amazing." He says, walking to the back of the counter, where I place my plate onto the table and get out his plate. "Spaghetti Bolognese." I tell him. He grabs me by the waist and places a kiss on my head. "Missed ya." He says, then placing a kiss on my lips. "Missed you too." I reply. "Ewwww." We hear a little voice say. Our little love session is interrupted by Kiera fake gagging. She learns too much from Jobe. "Alright, alright. Go sit down, love." I tell Jude. He sits down and I place his food in front of him. He quickly gobbles it up.

"Mama, can we watch bluey?" Kiera asks. "No, honey. It's mama's turn to choose." Jude says. Kiera is sat on her little pink blanket at the left in of our very large L-shaped white couch. Jude and I are sitting on the right side. "But, daddy-" She argues back. "No 'but's." Jude says sternly. "You got your turn yesterday, and I was before you. Mama's last few turns were taken by us, too. It's time we let her choose." He explains to our daughter. She lets out a huff and puff. "Jude, it's not that serious. Let her watch. I'm pretty tired anyways." I whisper to Jude a bit too loud. "Yay! Thank you, mama!" She says, taking the remote from Jude and playing her show. "Baby, you can't give in." Jude begins a lecture. "Hey, don't tell me. You're the one who spoils her." I tell him. I'm supposed to be the strict parent, not him.

Jude put's his arm over my shoulders after the 76th episode of these stupid Australian dogs. I would go to bed, but this is the only family time we've had in weeks. I reach for my phone to check when bedtime will roll around. I let out a sigh as I realize tomorrow is a weekend, therefor she can sleep in. Jude senses my frustration and pulls me in deeper. Kiera's trance is broken when she looks over to see her parents at peace. She immediately stands up on the couch makes the strut towards us. She decides to sit right in between Jude and I, of course cuddling him and giving me her back. Jude and I's cuddle session was cut way too short.

My head moves from it’s comfortable position on the back of the couch to look at where the little snores are coming from. I see our little monkey finally asleep after 3 long hours of Australian dogs. I pat Jude's arm and he, in response, picks her up and starts walking towards the stairs. I clean up some of the cups, snacks, and toys left on the coffee table and quickly follow Jude's path. I close the baby gate at the top of the stairs Jude installed when Kiera starting crawling and head towards Keira's bedroom. I creak the door open to see Jude putting her into bed. He firmly tucks her into bed and places her pink bunny next to her. On his way out, he turns on her moon-shaped nightlight, as she's afraid of the dark, and shuts the door behind him.

Jude backs out of the room, still facing his daughter. He turns around and gets slightly startled by me standing directly behind him. "Fuck, baby. You scared me. I didn't know you were there." He says putting his hand on his own chest. "I'm sorry." I tell him, nuzzling myself into his chest. I haven't been able to feel Jude without another little lady jumping on him. Jude places his hand on the back of my head and pushes me further into him. "Let's get you to bed, pretty lady." He grabs my hand and leads me to our shared bedroom.

"Where are you going? You've already done all your bathroom shit." He tells me as I throw the blanket off myself. "Mama's going to go change into some PJs. She doesn't feel like being caught in a bra and panties when Keira decides to love bomb you tomorrow morning." Did I just say that? "Mama's gonna do what?" Jude makes fun of my use of 'mom language'. "See what this damn kid is doing to me?" I tell him, walking into our walk-in closet. I walk into my side of our closet. I open the drawer of 'sexy' underwear I have. it's basically has cobwebs on it. I pick out Jude's formerly favorite white set. I look at myself in the mirror, feeling better about myself than the last time I put it on.

Jude took me to a fancy hotel a few weeks after Keira was born to give me a break. I decided to bring along this set to 'impress' him. I was freshly postpartum, and I felt very insecure. I haven't put it on since then, but I've been working hard to get my prepartum body back. Obviously, I don't look the same as young, active, 20-year-old Y/N Jude met, but I would say I look pretty darn okay. I quickly slip on a silky robe, coming right under my arse. I tie it in a way where it cinches my waist and leaving the front open enough to give Jude a peak of his former bestie.

Jude is sat up on his side of the bed, book in hand. (Jude 110% does not read before but, but dad!jude does) I walk over to my side of the bed, taking an excessive amount of time in hopes that Jude will notice me. "Hey, baby? I was wondering if- Whoa." He says, taking his eyes away from his book. "Whoa?" I say, pretending to be clueless. Jude quickly puts his book on the side table and pushes the blanket off of his lap. He gets up and walks towards me. I open my arms for him to come into. He grabs my waist and I wrap my arms around his neck. "You look amazing, love." He tells me, leaning in to kiss my neck. He starts licking and sucking on the sensitive spot behind my ear. "Jude..." I moan, throwing my head back. Jude leaves my neck and puts his hands right where my robe ends. He effortlessly lifts me up.

He goes back to kissing me as he walks us over to the bed. He places me in the middle of it. He undoes my robe and kisses me from my neck down to my stomach. He leaves a few bites and marks on my stomach. He works his way down to my panties and slowly takes them off. He starts to lick and suck on my clit. He slowly works his way up to using 3 fingers inside me. I'm moaning and whining with my hands in his hair. "Fuck, Jude. That feels so good!" I moan out, grabbing his hair even tighter. Normally, he would talk a lot during sex, but he's so focus on me and making me feel good that he can't be bothered to dirty talk.

"Fuck, baby. Just like that. Ride me like that. Taking me so well." He says, pushing my hips back and forth. He has my robe open up top, but tied up. I ended up getting too cold, but we were too eager to stop to change the temperature, so I put on the robe again. I have my hands on his chest, using him as leverage to keep me moving. I feel my legs give out, and Jude senses it. He grabs me and flips me onto the bed. He quickly gives me a passionate kiss and pulls out of me. "Turn over, baby. On your belly." He tells me. I quickly obey, too horny to resist. I get on my hands and knees. Jude pushes his dick back in and thrusts into me at an ungodly pace. The headboard is slamming against our wall, and I'm making some very loud and lewd noises. Jude reaches up to my head and grabs a handful of my long hair. He wraps it around his hand and uses it to pull my head back. He uses this to kiss my neck, leaving even more marks than before. He pulls me off my hands and makes me grab the headboard. He wraps his unused hand around my throat and squeezes lightly. "You like that, baby? Like the way I'm fucking you?" Jude grunts into my ear. "Yes, baby. Fuck, you fuck me so good!" I moan out. I can feel a knot start to go undone in my stomach. "Baby, I'm gonna-" I tell him, reaching back to put my hands in his hair. "I know, sweetie. Cum for me. Cum around me, my love." As I hear that, I quickly let my orgasm wash over me, Jude following close behind me, filling me up with his warm cum.

"That was amazing." He tells me, kissing my sweaty forehead. Jude had cleaned me and himself up and gotten us some very fancy champagne from our wine cellar. "I know. I'm glad we got some time alone, finally." I tell him, looking up to kiss his lips. It's been way too long since Jude and I got freaky. It's hard to find the time when you're raising the clingiest child of all time. Jude takes a sip of his sparkly drink and turns on the electronic fireplace. It's mainly ambience, but it's nice to have. He turns off the two nightlights and gets comfy. Him and I drink and talk the night away, until we both cave to our parental positions and fall asleep with a show in the background.

(Time skip)

I open my eyes to see a blurry world. I reach over to the side table where I fumble until I find my glasses. I put them on and turn to face my husband. Somewhere along the night, he turned off the T.V. and tucked us into bed, taking off my glasses and placing them on my side table. On the rare occasion where I get to see him, he looks so beautiful in the mornings. I snuggle into him and kiss his forehead. I nuzzle into him and close my eyes once again, enjoying the quite morning. No rush. No Keira. This is nice. I feel Jude stirring slightly. He knows I'm awake as I have my glasses on. He places a kiss on my lips as I kiss him back. "Good morning." I tell him, giddy as ever. It's like it's our first night together at his mum's place again. "Good morning, love." He says in his raspy morning voice. Him and I chat a little before hearing a door creak open. I look over Jude's shoulder to see Kiera standing there with her bunny in her hands, her hair wild as ever.

"Can I come in?" She asks, rubbing her eyes. I quickly but discreetly slip on my panties that were discarded the night before. "Of course, love." Jude says, opening his arms to his baby girl. He places her in the middle of us, and for once she chooses to cuddle me and not Jude. I accept her cuddles with open arms and pull her in closer. "I like this. It's soft." She tells me, rubbing over my robe. Jude lets out a laugh and kisses the back of her head. He slings his arm over the two of us and pulls us into him.

"Daddy? I have a question." She asks her father who has his head on the pillow and his eyes closed. He lets out a 'hmm?' while keeping his eyes closed. "Are you nice to mama?" Jude and and I are both shocked by the question. "Of course he is, baby. Why are you asking?" I ask her. "I heard some banging on the wall yesterday and you yelling." She tells us, now sitting up. Jude and I both mentally face palm. I look at him, expecting an answer just to see him looking at me the same way. "Sweety, mama and I were just playing. She's fine." Jude explains to her. "But you said that you shouldn't play in a way where people get hurt." She says crossing her arms, visibly upset with her daddy. "Baby, I wasn't hurt." I tell her, rubbing her arm. "Then, why were you yelling?" She asks. "Umm..." I look over to Jude for an answer once again, but he is looking around the room, playing dumb. Amazing. "You know how you start yelling when your daddy tickles you? Like that." I come up with an excuse. "Oh. Daddy tickled you for a long time then." Jude starts snickering and I simply nod. Keira nods, satisfied with the answer. Jude tells her to go use the toilet and brush her teeth. She gets up and marches out of the room.

"So, can I tickle you again?"

Wattpad: funkyfishfeet

DM for requests

[grapejuicestyless]

Love Me Until My Breathing Stops?

Harry Styles x Fem!reader

Angst to Fluff

DISCLAIMER!: There are some very serious topics in this. Depression, mentions of fucked up relationships. This is not romanticizing this at all.

Teaser: "Now they'd pass with whispers about how she'd only ever be a shell of who she once was. Destroyed by the weight of the love that she'd given so recklessly and the evil she'd let sleep next to her in her bed at night."

To be honest, I had no idea where it went so irreparably wrong. You never notice you're slipping until your feet are out from under you and your head hits the floor. Maybe that's how I never saw it coming.

My bed was my new home, my tears were my midnight snack and my eyes were probably permanently shut from the puffy skin that was blotchy and irritated beyond belief. My pillow was my sanctuary and the darkness was my friend. I miss my old friend sunshine. I miss the backyard barbeques and the reunions in the park. I miss the kids running from the bees and the smell of the wet grass in the mornings.

It had been a month, two weeks, three days, twenty one hours and thirteen minutes since I'd fallen, unable to pick up the shattered pieces that became my identity. The shadow of the girl who used to find peace in the smiles from people passing by. The girl who threw welcome home parties and tended to her garden every afternoon. Now they'd pass with whispers about how she'd only ever be a shell of who she once was. Destroyed by the weight of the love that she'd given so recklessly and the evil she'd let sleep next to her in her bed at night.

I'd been so convinced that he was the one. Grew up these past few months believing I was all that he saw. Breathing him was slowly killing me. I thought so highly of the man I shared my in's and out's with. I'd wake up early just to see the even rise of his chest, dreaming of his curly hair and our future together. Now in my own suffering, I dreamt that he drowned.

But it wasn't his fault, no he'd asked if I would be okay. I promised I'd be okay. There was no okay, how could he believe me? How can someone simply be okay after wrecking the only thing I'd been sure of in my entire life? No, there wasn't okay. There was simply bad and worse.

Today, was bad.

On days like this, I would talk myself up to a shower. Rid myself of the stench of rock bottom. Ridding myself of the killer that drove him away. How could he be so forgiving to me not being enough? How could he brush off my wasted potential and blame it on himself. Guilt till consumed me whole, even if he'd underlined it in red that it was him, not me. His unfaithfulness that had torn a sweet love story to ashes. Tell me, how could the attentive wife to be miss the smirk hiding beneath his winning smile, his lessons really just weapons targeted at my deepest hurts. Every comforting explanation was twisted way back to what I feared most.

Soon, I'd find myself in the kitchen, raiding the empty cabinets and the ransacked fridge. There was only crumbs and lemon juice in the entire house by now. The appetite I'd worked up gone at just the flashbacks of the slow dances in the crack of the refrigerator light. His hand over mine and his empty promises soothing in my ear. Did he want me or did he want me not? I heard one thing, now I'm hearing another.

I felt rage boiling, the slam of the door rattling the plates in the sink and the pan on the stove. Ripping my hair from my head was the only reliever of the pain, tearing apart my body hoping that eventually it could be put back together into a beautiful bloody mess. Wearing my hurt on my sleeve and praying to god that, that someone could love me just as much for that.

I was thinner now, shedding the pounds like I had anymore to spare. The only clothes that still fit was a white ruffled dress that fell just below my knees. The straps hanging loosely and my feet slipped into black Mary Janes and red socks. I wonder how ghostly I looked stepping into the sun. Skin greyed from the lack of light.

I counted my breathing, noted the cracks on the pavement and counted the daffodils on the walk into town. All to cease the tears pushing behind my eyes.

It was nice out, the air was crisp and warming with the middle of spring having sprung. Vines were growing and the world was getting loud again. It was peaceful, I wanted a piece of that inner silence for myself. Maybe it would bring me a sort of closure, pushing me towards a more okay future.

I listened to the bell rattle with the push of the door, hands hanging loose at my sides. I waved towards the girl working the counter in the flower store. She smiled, recognizing the unrecognizable shadow that waltzed into the humid room. I pasted on the fake togetherness I'd mastered from unexpected visits from family and friends. Trying to imitate the girl who had lost her way long ago.

"Do you have any tulips?" My eyes remained glued to the flower beds as I searched the store for any bright pink clusters.

"A few in the back row, though you might need to hurry, they're quite popular today." I nodded, scurrying to the back in hopes to finally get what I wanted.

There, I saw the empty basket, the last bouquet of bright pink tulips being held up to a tall man. He was maybe six feet tall, but his posture made him seem a little shorter. His hair was chocolatey brown with free falling curls and waves pushed behind his tortoise shell sunglasses. He wore a teal cardigan over a white graphic tee that read something in blue I couldn't quite make out from the angle. His legs fit into lose jeans with rips at the knees and blue and white checkered vans. His laces were ripped slightly, probably from stepping on them, and he smelled like sweet vanilla.

He looked like happiness, a ray of modern day sunshine and fair love, his nose still buried between two flowers, eyes fluttered shut.

Some white carnations lined with a hot pink sat near the tulips, they looked just as beautiful as the fresh flowers that I'd missed by a second too late.

I let myself sigh after taking in the clean smell from the center of them, the crinkling of the paper distracting me from the hurt I felt inside.

"You planning a wedding?" His English accent wasn't horribly noticeable, but still able to be picked up on. I cracked a smile, trying to be polite. Trying to be the girl I missed.

"Something like that, yeah." He laughed, we made eye contact.

I could see his dark green eyes now, sparkling with interest. I can only imagine the lack thereof that I returned to him.

"I'm Harry." He held out his hand, smiling so much so there were crinkles by his eyes.

"I'm y/n." I met his palms. They were soft yet rough around the edges. His fingers had been picked at and he had guitar string scars across his hands.

There was a silence. It was comfortable, relaxed but still, I itched to back away.

"It was nice to meet you." I stepped back, walking away faster than I came to pay for the carnations clenched between my shaking hands.

"Hey wait!" His footsteps were heavy, hammering into the asphalt. I turned, but continued to move backwards, a faint smile played on his lips. Chasing after the beautiful fool who secretly adored the interest the random flower shop boy took in her.

"Missed me already?" I turned back to walk forwards once I felt his arm bump mine.

"Can't help it, you're just so missable!" He joked, flowers facing down at the ground, hitting each other as we walked close together. We left a petal trail as we walked.

"You say that to every girl you meet?"

"Only the runaway brides dressed up like Dorothy on her way to Oz." I covered my smile in my hand, brushing the blush off.

"I'm flattered." We shared a look, walking in silence as we looked at each others eyes.

"So tell me about yourself, Dorothy."

"Dorothy?" He pointed to my shoes, I scoffed.

"Okay..." I thought on it, counting the cracks again.

I knew I was barely together. Barely able to keep up with the work that seemed to just pile itself onto my back. I knew that my finger still stung from when I ripped off the engagement ring and told him to go to hell. I knew I was a fucked in the head, a childish girl who only wanted to be loved like she loved others. I knew at one point I would've said all these things to Harry, a man I'd met only a few minutes ago. Trusted him easily and let him in without an inch of doubt. But I also knew that wasn't fully me anymore.

"I haven't met the new me yet." I smiled at him, chewing at my cheek at the curious eyebrow lift and the breathy laugh.

'What about you, Harry? Who are you?" I looked to my feet.

"I'll let you decide." He looked to my face, my eyes finding it almost impossible to meet his warm gaze.

"Someone who reads too many love stories."

"Says the one dressed as Wendy from Peter Pan." I laughed, meeting his stare finally.

"Am I Wendy or Dorothy?"

"Why not both?" He was unbelievably easy to talk to, even in my mess and hurt, it soothed the panging in my chest with every breath he took.

"Let me walk you home, y/n?" I smiled.

"Okay." We fell into a silence again, out of teasing and jokes to share for the five minute walk remaining. I went back to counting the daffodils and he went back to sniffing his flowers. I went back to silently pulling myself together, picking up any shards of myself that had fallen and focused on my breathing.

"This is mine." I looked towards the dark home, the garden still neat despite the overgrown plants and the few dead plants. I looked back at Harry, then to his feet where his tulip petals continued to fall. They looked bare, hurt and dying now. I met his eyes again.

"Take good care of those tulips for me?" He froze, confused about the sudden request after my silence towards him and his polite offer.

"Yeah, of course." I nodded, turning myself slowly towards my front steps. I took in the pale blue of my paint, the new white shutters beautiful and perfectly matched with the white wrap around porch that hugged the west corner of the home snuggly and the short, white picket fence. You would've never expected such a fuck up to live in such a nice looking home.

"Bye, Harry." Waving, I made my way up the driveway, passing the fence and the the garden. All while he stood there, done with the chase, done with my mood swings. My politeness and my silence. My trust and my question. He stayed outside of my lawn, feet stuck to the sidewalk like gum.

Seven months, one week, six hours and eighteen minutes since I'd fallen, unable to pick up the shattered pieces that became my identity. Seven months, one week, six hours and eighteen minutes since the man who hung the moon for me in my eyes confessed his infidelities and left me to throw a pity party for myself. Almost six months since the next best thing had entered my life. My best friend, Harry.

Unlike my ex-fiancé, Harry came back. He came back and picked up the shards that I'd let crack and bleed under my feet and glued me back together. He'd come by once a week at first, checking up after noticing the vacant look in my eyes when we first parted ways. How I'd slipped into the darkest house he'd ever seen. Cold, tired, worked to the bone. Once turned into twice. Twice turned into four and four turned into almost everyday. His knock at my door my favorite sound. Yet, what he knew of me, wasn't fully me.

Even with Harry and his flowers decorating my home. Even with his laugh and his trusting demeanor, part of that girl I was was forever lost. That engagement ring hadn't only taken skin, it had taken the foolish woman who slept next to a liar and swallowed her pride. It had taken my ability to let people in so easily. And I wish he hadn't taken that from me, because as stupidly blind she was, she was some of the best parts of me.

"The Notebook or Ten Things I Hate About You?" Harry hoped over the back of my couch, his arm falling limp around my shoulders, each hand holding a movie for me to chose.

"Is that even a question?" I snatched the disc with Heath Ledger on the cover and waved it around Harry's face. He smiled, ruffling up my hair before getting up to pop the disc in.

"I need to stop asking you these things, Dorothy. I was hoping for the notebook." I stuck my tongue out, my heart flooding with a familiar warmth only Harry could pull from me.

I bit my cheek until it bled, my shoulder squished between his chest and the bend of his elbow. Silently, I mouthed the lines to the movie, my lips brushing against the soft cotton of Harry's white t-shirt.

"That tickles, my love." He laughed, craning his head down while mine stretched up. Crinkles folded by my eyes, smile lines permanently tattooed on my skin from just the past few months. What was a curse for others, was a permanent reminder of the adoration I had gained for Harry and his ability to fix what was irreparably shattered.

"What?" His whole body shook with a silent giggle, eyes reflecting the movie and an emotion I couldn't pin. I remained silent, eyes flicking down to his lips, his eyes following mine. I felt his touch tighten around my back and his body heat up.

Closer and closer, longer and longer. I panicked the closer I got to wrecking this beautiful relationship we'd built over a silly crush I'd obtained.

Sure, he was nice. He was handsome and possibly the best thing that had ever walked into my life, but stacking every single one of those reasons and more couldn't make me risk everything. I couldn't deal with someone else I loved walking out of my life.

I inched away, scared. I watched his face freeze, eyes relaxed and breath hot on my lips.

"Harry." I whimpered.

"Y/n."

"What if we fuck this up? What if after tonight you change your mind? I can't do that again Harry. I can't pick myself up again." I quietly rambled, tense, scared of the idea that I would face the hatred for my own reflection for weeks and weeks again.

"Y/n." He repeated, softer.

My mouth stopped, eyes flicking to observe his expression over and over. Trying to fight back the tears that built and built.

"I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. If you trust me, let me in just this once, I wont leave until you're kicking me out." He searched my face now, an internal fight going on in my head. He made it so hard to think being so close him.

"Love me until my breathing stops?" I asked, tears springing from under my eyes and gathering at my waterline now. Scared, just as I was all those months ago. no longer a vacant stare, but one of fear and uncertainty.

"I'll love you until my breathing stops." He wiped under my eyes, fingers quick to land on my cheeks. He waited, patiently for any sign that it would be okay to continue.

I nodded, swallowing.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He smiled, shoulders slumping like a weight had been lifted and he was at ease.

"Okay." I returned the feeling, lips brushing his. They were soft and plump. They tasted of buttery popcorn and chocolate. His nose bumped into mine, skin brushing skin and limbs tangling the longer we tried to hold onto the moment.

When we pulled away, it was breathless, and suddenly I realized the man who'd hurt me seven months, one week, seven hours and three minutes ago hadn't stolen the best parts of me, he only scared her into hiding.

[mama-bun]

chocolate chip dino waffles and eggs

“MOMMMMYYYY!” i hear him whine as he pads over to my desk, “inside voices, sweetpea. inside voices.” i remind him. he whines again and stomps a bit, “hungry. hungry. mommy i hungry.” he tugs at my dress to make sure he knows he was one serious boy. i look at him and smile, “buggy is hungry, i see, i see… what would the little boy like to eat?”

and that little mischievous look on his face said it all, “candy.”

“absolutely not, honeybear. that’s a treat, not a meal or snackie.” i hum and tap my chin, “how about… waffles and eggs?” i suggest happily.

his eyes light up and he squeals as he tugs more on my dress, “chocolate! chocolate!” he said loudly, and i gently ruffle his hair, “a little quieter baby, inside voices.” i remind him once more, after all, he is just a tiny tot.

“okay… chocolate chip waffles with eggs… but… how about dinosaur shaped ones?” i ask as i take his hand and lead him to the kitchen, but not before grabbing up his teether and clipping it to his overalls, “there you go.” he was happy with that for sure, chewing on the teether happily as i guided him to the kitchen to help me make our yummy lunch.

“mmm… nnn… mama…” he whines softly as i let go of his hand, “mm… hold.” he mumbles as he grabs my hand again, “oh… sweetheart, mommy needs both of her hands to make our food, how about you hold onto my dress instead? we need to make sure i have both hands baby bug.”

he shakes his head and instead sits on the floor and opens a cabinet, digging through the plates and finding a sectioned plate with sharks on it and a green spoon, “want… use…” he holds it up over his head, “egg.” he pointed to the smaller section of the plate, “mhm, you want your eggs in that part of the plate? okay, little beetle, mama will make sure they go in that one.” i smile.

he giggles and closes the cabinet, and opens it again, and closes it once more, i laugh softly and quickly grab a little fidget board off the counter, “here honey… noises.” i smile, turning one of the knobs to make it click. and his eyes lit up as he snatched it from my hands, “be gentle… take gently.” i remind him.

little ones needed reminders, he was just a baby after all.

as i make the waffles and his eggs, he sat quietly staring up at me and occasionally shaking a rattle he had grabbed.

he was such a little cutie!

“okay little one, let’s sit at the table. no toys at the table while we eat.” i say as i grab his sippy cup and fill it with apple juice and water it down. i carry his plate to the table and set it in front of him with his sippy, “Here you go… and some sliced banana.” i point to the other section of the plate next to the eggs.

he nods happily and smiles. “eat up baby bug.”

“love you mommy. thank you.”

“i love you too sweet boy.”

[fixfoxnox]

Spicy camboy Au spicy camboy Au

Any ship at all but with preference for bottom roach thankssss

SPICY CAMBOY AU TEEHEE

Camboy AU (2)

Warnings: smut, jealousy trope (my beloved), minor roleplaying, oral, cowboy hat rule

Pairings: Ghost/Soap, Roach/Jackson, Ghost/Roach/Soap

Word Count: 7.9k

Actual Usernames Used: @bingobongothatswhereyourewrongo

Roach moved around his kitchen quickly, tossing various things into a bowl as he listened to the voices coming through his phone. He had it propped up against his back wall so that the men on the other end could still see him, even as he worked on making himself something to eat. It worked out well for him, the pleasantly excitable, though tired, voice of Soap over the line was enough to keep him entertained. 

“-which is exactly why I told Ghost that he had to get a new system.” He huffed on the little screen and leaned back against Ghost’s chest, looking up at the other man with a sort of fond affection there. 

“You were really going to try to keep streaming with your system making such a terrible noise?” Roach asked with a grin on his face. The thought of Ghost trying to talk over the loud rattling sound that Soap had described was tempting him into laughter, but he did his best not to laugh at the sheepish-looking man over the line. 

“It was still working perfectly fine,” Ghost gave a huff, “I could have fixed it.”

“Could have fixed it,” Soap scoffed, “It was two seconds away from catching fire.” He nudged Ghost’s side playfully, “I think he’s trying to burn down our house so we have to move.”

Roach snorted, “Where would you guys even move?” He turned away from his phone pushing himself up on his toes to reach one of the top cabinets in his kitchen. There were no words from over the phone for several moments and he began to wonder if he’d lost connection with the men. When he turned back around he was surprised to see that he hadn’t lost connection, but instead, the two men were just staring at him with pink dusting their cheeks. He raised an eyebrow at them and that seemed to snap them out of whatever haze they were in. 

“We could move closer to you,” Soap teased, “Finally get to film some stuff with our Bug in person? The internet would go wild.”

“That's the only reason you want to see me in person,” Roach teased, “Just trying to use me to get more famous.”

“That’s not the only reason,” Ghost muttered quietly. Roach almost didn’t hear him. He assumed he wasn’t meant to and politely didn’t question the man’s words, though curiosity was eating at him. 

He gave a slow hum, putting together his meal on a little plate. He could hear one of the men let out a long yawn over the phone and he gave a short snicker, “It has to be late there for you guys, I hope I’m not keeping you up.” 

Ghost waved him off, “It’s only two in the morning, we’re fine.” 

“Two in the morning!” Roach turned back to face his phone in a quick move, “You two need to go to bed!” 

“But we’re talking to you,” Soap gave him a pout, “That’s much better than sleeping.” 

“You can talk to me tomorrow.” Roach popped his hip out and gave the men a scolding look, a spoon pointed at them, “I’m not trying to keep the two of you up. I’ll get canceled for driving people’s favorite couple to exhaustion.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Soap shot back, “But I guess if you’re going to yell at us we can go to sleep.”

“What are you doing?” Ghost asked carefully, “After this, I mean?”

“I have a stream tomorrow with Jackson,” He leaned against his counter again, taking his phone in his hands with a grin, “And some filming stuff that we’re going to do for a…uh project.” He looked away from the phone nervously, his face going a bit pink. He’d been trying to avoid discussing his other streams with the men and they certainly didn’t need to know the details of what he had coming up. After all, it would probably be a bit awkward for the men to hear him talk about his adult-only streams. 

“Oooh,” Soap wiggled his brows at him, “A project. Any chance we’ll get a sneak peek?”

Roach rolled his eyes, but a fond smile crossed his face, “Nope, you’ll have to wait just like everyone else.”

“Not even a hint,” Ghost asked, a playful lilt to his voice. 

“Not even a hint.” Roach gave the two men a grin and picked his phone up, “Go to bed, when you wake up, you’ll be closer to finding out what my project is.” He gave them a quick wink before hurriedly ending the call, trying to prevent any possible questions from the two. He didn’t think he could handle the embarrassment of trying to explain the concept of his next spicy stream to the two men he was crushing on.

“I think it’s ready to be posted.” Roach glared at the short little video he’d been editing for several minutes. It was a simple thing that just needed cut down and a bit of text added to the end. 

Jackson leaned over his shoulder, peering at the video as it played through, “It looks good.” He nudged Roach’s arm just slightly with a grin, “We look good. You ready for your notifications to break?”

Roach snorted, “You think too highly of yourself.” He started loading the video onto his Twitter.

“Please,” Jackson scoffed, “You know that you’ll make a shit ton of money from this and your fans are gonna go crazy. We’ll be getting edits made of us to save a horse ride a cowboy for months.” He stretched up, letting out a long groan as he did. There was a grin fixed on his face as he added, “And it’s all because of me.” 

“Alright, hey do you think you and your massive head will be able to fit through the door after this?” A giggle pulled from his lips as Jackson shoved at him in response, a loud huff leaving his lips. 

“Posted it yet?” He leaned over Roach’s shoulder again. 

“Adding the caption and tagging you. Let’s see…and done! Let’s see how people like this.” He and Jackson shared a bright grin with one another. 

“Roach posted a video on his nsfw Twitter,” Ghost moved closer to Soap as his boyfriend immediately tossed the computer that he’d been editing on to the side. Soap was quick to tuck into his side, peering over his shoulder at his phone. 

“What type of video? Do we need to go to the bedroom?” He pressed a quick excited kiss to Ghost’s cheek.

“No,” Ghost shook his head, “He said in the replies that the video itself isn’t anything nsfw, just a preview for his stream tonight apparently.” 

“A preview?” Soap raised an eyebrow, “I like the sound of that.” He looked to Ghost’s phone scanning over the caption which read, “Taking advantage of the cowboy hat rule with @jacksonisalive”

“Why’d he tag Jackson?” Ghost asked quietly, his thumb just hovering over the button to start the video. 

Soap tilted his head, “It is kinda odd to tag him in this, isn’t it? Maybe he’s in the video?” He nudged his boyfriend, “Go on, play it.” 

Ghost seemed to hesitate for a moment before tapping on the video and turning up the audio on his phone. Both he and Soap leaned closer watching intently as the video started. 

The screen was black at first, but quickly popped up with footage of both Roach and Jackson dressed in somewhat matching outfits. Both of them wore jeans and a tight white t-shirt, but Jackson, unlike Roach, had a cowboy hat perched on his head. Neither of them said anything, they only grinned at one another. Roach turned to wave at the camera, giving a bright smile before winking. He turned then, grabbing Jackson’s hand and tugging him out of the frame of the camera then. The video cut and the next shot was of both of the men climbing onto a mechanical bull with one another. 

“This is a preview for his stream?” Soap questioned quietly, his eyes glued to the screen. Ghost didn’t say anything, he just continued watching with narrowed eyes. 

Jackson and Roach both climbed onto the mechanical bull, facing one another. They were tucked close, with Roach practically sat in Jackson’s lap as the other man’s arms wrapped around his waist. Roach turned his head, giving a thumbs up towards the camera with a grin still on his face. A moment later and the bull started moving. 

The movement from the bull seemed to be no issue for either Roach or Jackson, both of them moving their hips along with it to maintain their balance. The end result was that as the bull sped up and started bucking wilder, it appeared as though Jackson and Roach were grinding against one another in harsh and sensual movements. 

Both of the men seemed to be playing into the movement, their hands trailing over one another quickly, gripping skin through their clothing and pulling the other closer. At one point, Roach’s hands pressed against Jackson’s chest, pushing him to lay back on the bull as he moved closer, being almost fully on his lap at that point. They stayed like that for several moments, Jackson’s hands guiding Roach’s hips with every buck of the bull. 

Finally, several moments later, Jackson pushed himself back up, tugging Roach closer to press their faces close, their noses bumping and their lips almost touching with every slight movement. As they moved closer Roach reached up, pulling the cowboy hat from Jackson’s head and plopping it onto his own. 

They stayed on the bull for several more long moments before it grew too wild, throwing them off. The clip cut again with Roach and Jackson standing back together. Jackson’s arms were wrapped around Roach’s waist and his head was laid on Roach’s shoulder, a grin across his face. Roach was still wearing the cowboy hat on his head. Over the music playing wherever he and Jackson were, Roach called out, “This was just a sneak peek, tune in tonight to see the full show!” He gave another wink to the camera before turning toward Jackson. The two looked at one another for a long moment before moving toward the other. The camera cut off just before their lips connected and the last bit of the video was just text directing people to Roach’s website and stating the time for his stream. 

“What,” Soap blinked wide at the video, something burning in his chest, “the fuck.” He turned to Ghost with wide eyes, both of them looking at one another for several long moments. “Tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it does?”

Ghost didn’t say anything, he just looked back at his phone to begin scrolling down to the responses, both of them scanning over the excited replies. 

“bingobongothatswhereyourewrongo replied to touchroach: YEEHAW SOUTHERN TWINKS RIDIN’ IT OUT”

“hesh.kinnie replied to touchrouch: FINALLY JACKSON MAKES HIS RETURN GUYS WE’RE GONNA HEAR ROACH WHIMPER TONIGHT!!!”

“Soap,” Ghost looked back to his boyfriend, his eyes wide, “I think it’s real.”

Soap was sitting down, but he still almost fell to his knees at the words. 

“All ready?” Jackson crawled onto the bed, moving behind Roach to wrap his arms around his friend’s shoulders. They were only about a minute out from starting stream and they’d already gone through Roach’s checklist. They were both dressed, groomed, and more than ready to start. 

“Yup,” Roach leaned back into his arms, watching the little countdown on his stream. “Make this good for me, will you?” He playfully tugged at Jackson’s arm. 

“Please,” Jackson rolled his eyes and leaned closer to his friend. He pressed his lips against his ear, giving a playful little nip to him before responding, “You know how good I can make it.” Roach went a bit hot at the words, but was forced to ignore it as the countdown ended and his stream officially started. 

“Hey guys!” He let a bit of his accent shine through as he leaned back against Jackson and gave a wide grin for the camera, “As y’all can see, Jackson came for a visit! We went out to a bar together and, uh,” he bit his lip and looked up at his friend. 

“Roach got a little too excited,” Jackson teased, his own accent tinging his words a bit, “Forgot about some of the rules.” He reached up carefully, removing the cowboy hat he’d placed on his head before the stream and plopping it onto Roach’s head. He turned to the camera with a wink, “Don’t worry though, I’m gonna remind him. I mean,” he ran a hand over Roach’s thigh and slowly started to trail it under his shirt, “we don’t want anyone taking advantage of him. Do we?”

Roach tilted his head back as Jackson’s hand ran up and down his chest, just avoiding his nipples. He gave a low whine when the man’s other hand started running over his clothed thighs, just avoiding his crotch. “I don’t,” he squirmed a bit, his voice high, “I don’t understand what I did?” 

Jackson gave a low chuckle at his words, “Hear that y’all? Roach doesn’t know what he did.” The hand on Roach’s thighs was quick to move and soon Jackson had a hand shoved just under the waistband of his pants, palming at him through his underwear. Roach gave a loud moan at the feeling, jerking his hips up into his friend’s hand. The hand on his chest finally began playing with his nipples. “Don’t worry darlin’,” Jackson pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll teach you.” 

Jackson took to biting and sucking at Roach’s neck, one of his hands pressed against his crotch and the other playing with his nipples. He flicked and rubbed at Roach’s nipple before rolling the nub between his fingers gently. It pulled several gasps from Roach who had the friction of Jackson’s hand against his aching cock mixing with the sensations from his chest. The two continued that way for several moments until Jackson pulled away from Roach’s neck and connected their mouths instead. 

The kiss was harsh and biting. Jackson took the lead immediately, dominating Roach’s mouth with his teeth and tongue. He nipped at Roach’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before pulling back with a pop to let both of them catch their breath. After only a moment, he was back on Roach, stealing the breath he’d just taken with harsh pressure. 

It wasn’t until the sound of a donation came through that they pulled away from one another, both of them turning to look at the screen to read. 

“Skullman900 donated $100: Take Roach’s clothes off please”

“Oh, look at that,” Jackson removed his hand from Roach’s pants, pulling a whine from his friend, “They want to see you. Do you want them to see you?” Roach nodded his head shyly, pulling a rumbling chuckle from Jackson, “You would.” One of his hands came down hard on Roach’s thigh, pulling a squeak from his friend, “Dirty slut.” 

Jackson pulled the cowboy hat off of Roach’s head, setting it on his own again. His hands hooked under Roach’s shirt and he began to help his friend remove the clothing over his skin. His shirt came first, then Jackson palmed at his crotch for another few moments before carefully unbuttoning his pants and slowly pulling down the zipper. Once that was done, he motioned for Roach to stand up. 

“Go on Darlin’, strip for me and your lovely audience. Put on a nice show for us.” He leaned back on his hands, watching with an easy grin on his face. Roach followed his instructions and pushed himself up from the bed. He tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and ever so slowly started to pull them down. He let one side pull lower than the other before slowly moving the other side down to meet it. Within a few moments, he pulled his pants and underwear over his cock, letting his already hard length spring out from the confines of his pants. From there he was quick to remove the rest of his pants and underwear. 

He stood for a moment, just shyly looking between the camera and Jackson. Jackson was watching him with hungry eyes, trailing every part of his body. After several moments, he let one of his hands reach out to begin tracing along Roach’s skin, causing the other man to shiver at the attention. 

“Paul,” Roach gave a low whine, a red flush slowly creeping over his body. Jackson was hard in his pants, though he didn’t seem to mind, he just spread his legs further, letting the camera get a good look at both the bulge in his pants and Roach’s naked form. 

“What is it?” Jackson’s voice was low and teasing, “C’mon baby, tell me what you need.” 

“I,” Roach squirmed a bit, slowly shuffling closer to Jackson until the other man could wrap him in his arms and pull him onto his lap. Roach gasped at the roughness of Jackson’s clothes against his cock, but he pushed through it to help Jackson reposition so that the camera could see them better. “Please,” he rolled his hips just slightly, pulling a whimper from his lips at the rough friction and a gasp from Jackson, “I need your cock.” 

Jackson gave a low chuckle, but the noise was cut off by the sound of another request.

“BuggingOut donated $100: Roach should suck Jackson off. He’s being so good to him it’s the least he could do”

Jackson gave another laugh at the donation and Roach gave a disappointed whine, a quick pout sent the camera’s way. “They’re right,” Jackson teased, “I mean all that I do for you darlin’? Take care of you? Teach you these things?” He helped slowly ease Roach off of his lap and once his friend was in front of him on the bed, he was quick to reach up and grab his hair, yanking him harshly down to press his face into his crotch. “The least you could do is suck me off for my troubles.”

Roach gave another low whine at the words, but slowly brought his hands forward to begin running them up and down Jackson’s thighs, “I guess you’re right, but,” He paused for a moment, looking up at Jackson with his head tilted just enough that the camera could see him as well, “You’ll be gentle, right?”

Jackson chuckled, his hand tightening in Roach’s hair, “I don’t know baby, do you deserve me being gentle.” He paused for a moment before adding on with a grin, “Do you even want me to be gentle? I think you’d like it if I made you choke on my cock.” He shoved Roach’s face back into his crotch, “Go on baby, use that mouth of yours to help me with my pants.” 

Roach didn’t even have to be looking at his chat to know that the words had driven them wild. He followed Jackson’s command obediently, using his teeth to undo the button on his friend's pants. He had to stop himself from laughing as he made the move, remembering the hours they’d spent when Jackson was first going to join his stream practicing it. It had been decidedly unsexy, with Roach failing so many times that they were both in stitches by the time he’d actually gotten it down. Luckily he’d done it enough now that he could pop the button smoothly and pull the zipper down with his teeth in one quick move. 

He slipped his fingers under the waistband of Jackson’s pants, slowly tugging them down as his friend lifted his hips for him. He made sure to go slowly, dragging the fabric against Jackson’s hardening cock to give him a little bit of friction to start out. Once he had them down below Jackson’s ass, just enough to have his cock exposed, he stopped. Slowly he lowered his face back down, nuzzling against Jackson’s cock while giving the camera an innocent look. A low satisfied sigh left Jackson’s mouth and soon his hand was tangling in Roach’s hair, slowly guiding him. 

“Alright baby,” his grip tightened, “Come on, show me just how much you appreciate me. Open your mouth.” Roach did as he was told, a flush running down his spine as he held his tongue out for his friend to use. Jackson was quick to move. One of his hands wrapped around his own cock, guiding the tip to just begin rutting lightly over Roach’s tongue. He did that for several moments, little grunts of satisfaction leaving his lips as spit began to quickly gather in Roach’s mouth. 

After several moments, Jackson used his grip in Roach’s hair to begin guiding him fully onto his cock. Roach followed the movement, taking Jackson into his mouth and closing his lips around his friend’s length. His tongue set to work immediately, swirling around the head of Jackson’s cock in quick movements. He gave little sucks and licks to the tip, letting his tongue trail across his friend’s slit in a move that had a Jackson’s hips jerking up. He made sure to moan as he moved lower, taking Jackson further into his mouth until the tip of Jackson’s dick was just touching the back of his throat. 

He rested there for a moment, breathing through his nose while sucking at his friend’s cock. He made sure that the noises from the movement were loud, loud enough for the camera to hear. It was all a distraction. Make them think that Roach was working at his friend with desperation when, in reality, he was preparing himself to have his throat fucked. It was something he could handle, but certainly not something he’d prepared for, so that’s what this was. A moment for him to mentally prepare and relax his throat for the abuse he was about to endure. When he was ready to finally take it, he tapped twice on Jackson’s thigh. 

Immediately Jackson started to slowly pull him off of his cock, a moaned out chuckle leaving his lips. “I think I’m gonna let everyone see,” Jackson had a wide grin on his face as he spoke, “Just how much of a whore you are. Hmm? You want that Darlin’? Want everyone to see you choke on my cock?” In a second, Jackson used his grip in Roach’s hair to roughly shove his friend back on his cock, forcing him to gag as he slammed into the back of his throat. “You- fuck, you do, don’t you?” 

With that he set a rough pace, forcing Roach up and down on his cock, his hips moving to match the movements. Roach could do nothing but take it and try to keep up. His hands tightened in the sheets of the bed and the sounds of his moans, his gagging, and disgusting slurping noises filled the room. Spit slicked down Jackson’s shaft and his own moans and harsh dirty words seemed to mix together with Roach’s own noises. 

Roach was achingly hard between his legs and the rough treatment only seemed to add to it. He certainly wasn’t a masochist, but he also didn’t mind getting treated like a toy every now and then. The last time he and Jackson had done something similar for his stream had certainly told him that. Jackson knew him and his body well enough to know what he could and couldn’t take, which made the experience all the more pleasurable for Roach.

He continued to suck and lick at Jackson’s cock to the best of his ability, fighting around the abuse to the back of his throat and the ache between his legs to focus on the task at hand. “That’s it,” Jackson’s voice was low and his accent was coming through clearly, “Fuckin’ suck my cock like a good boy. Get me all nice and ready to fuck you.” He tilted his head back and used his grip in Roach’s hair to yank him down and bury his nose in the hairs at the base of his cock, just holding him there for a moment, “Fuck- ah, mouth was just made for, God, made for me to fuck.” 

Roach stayed pressed down to Jackson’s hips, tears springing into his eyes as the sound of another request came through. He couldn’t see the request, but he could hear Jackson’s rumbling laugh after he read it. Suddenly Roach was yanked fully off of his cock. “Lucky boy,” Jackson captured his lips again, licking the spit that was slicking his mouth and forcing him closer. A whine pulled from Roach’s lips as he was tugged into his friend’s lap, their cock’s brushing together. 

Roach rolled his hips, pants and moans pulled from him at the delicious friction. It sent sparks of pleasure up his spine and seemed to be more than enough for Jackson too, considering his own grunts and the way that his face was twisted up in pleasure. They continued to slide their mouths together in a biting and bruising kiss. Jackson gave little nips to Roach’s bottom lip and Roach answered back with his teeth just grazing against Jackson’s tongue. His ming was beginning to grow hazy with the feeling of arousal coming in steady waves. The slide of his cock against Jackson’s was smooth thanks to the spit that had slicked the other man while Roach had his cock in his mouth. 

Jackson’s hands groped and grabbed at his sides, pinching and prodding. Occasionally one of his hands would run up to flick across Roach’s nipples, pulling a whine from the man on top of him. After several long moments of just taking the other’s mouth, Jackson grabbed tight to Roach’s hips and shoved him back onto the bed. Roach watched him with wide eyes and little pants leaving his mouth. His face was tinged pink and heat seemed to have flooded his body. 

He squirmed in anticipation as his friend threw his shirt and the cowboy hat off, tossing it somewhere off camera to be retrieved later. Jackson’s hands worked quick then, manhandling Roach back onto his lap. This time, however, Roach had his back pressed against Jackson’s chest and the other man’s cock pressed against the top of his ass. With one quick readjustment from Jackson and the two men were facing the camera and Roach’s chat.

This way, Roach was fully on display for the camera. His eyes hazily scanned across the screen, taking in the way that his chat seemed to be going crazy. Finally his eyes caught the top corner where the last request was still showing proudly. He felt himself flush bright red as he saw it. 

“SudsNSkulls donated $1000: Tired of this, fuck his hole or just call it a night” 

Jackson shifted them until his cock was just pressed up against his entrance. They’d already worked him open before stream, but his chat didn’t need to know that. A kiss was pressed to his neck before his friend spoke, “Thank the kind viewers for letting you get fucked.”

“Thank,” Roach arched back against Jackson as the man started to slowly sink inside of him, “Thank, oh fuck- god ah, thank you!” His hands gripped at Jackson’s arms, low moans pulled from him as the other man finally bottomed out inside of him. 

“Now then,” Jackson’s voice was strained just enough for Roach to notice, “Let’s say we get on with reminding you what it means to take a man’s cowboy hat.” One of his hand slapped Roach’s thigh and he gave a quick jerk of his hips, pulling a desperate whimper from his throat. “The rule, Darlin’, says that you take the hat, you ride the cowboy.” He grabbed Roach’s hip with one hand, the other roughly turning Roach’s face toward his own, “Now then, ride me like a good boy.” 

With that, he gave another slap to Roach’s thigh before leaning back against the bed, a smug look on his face. Roach gave a low moan as he felt his friend twitch inside of him. He took a moment, pretending to be embarrassed as he repositioned himself enough. He started moving slowly, using his hands to help him begin rolling his hips against his friend. The movement was enough to have have him taking in desperate breaths, his mouth falling open at the feeling of arousal shooting up his spine to haze over his mind fully. 

Jackson slapped his thigh again, “C’mon Darlin’, I know you can go faster than that. Ride me properly or I’ll have to bend you over. If I have to bend you over I won’t be nice.” One of his hands moved forward to fix itself just lightly around Roach’s throat, “You understand?”

Roach nodded his head rapidly, “I,” he cut himself off with a moan as he picked up speed, his friend hitting deeper inside of him as he started to truly fuck himself on Jackson’s cock. “I understand!” He finally managed to get out. “I’ll be good, I- fuck please, I swear!”

Jackson gave a breathy chuckle against him. He leaned back up to begin biting and sucking at Roach’s neck, his own moans muffled against the skin that he was nipping at. His hands grabbed tight to Roach’s hips, helping to lift him off of his cock before relaxing as he dropped back down. 

They formed a quick pace together, the sound of skin slapping skin and their combined moans filling the air. Roach, even through the haze of pleasure that was threatening to take away all of his focus, managed to keep his eyes just slightly, open, just enough that he could watch the chat and make sure that he was giving the camera that properly fucked out look that he knew they loved. 

Donations rolled in as he and Jackson continued. The feeling of Jackson’s cock stretching him open and fucking inside of him was enough to have Roach slowly climbing toward the edge of pleasure, his cock leaking as his legs began to shake. There was one thing that was always tough about riding his friend: it made him fucking sore. Still, he pressed onward, though was thankful to find Jackson picking up a slight bit of his slack, comforting kisses pressed to his shoulder as fingers dug into the plush fat of his hips. 

Eventually Jackson wrapped one of his hands around Roach’s hard cock and started to stroke over him quickly. The move was enough to send Roach into a fully pliant state his legs shaking too much to keep him moving on Jackson’s cock. His friend only chuckled at his lack of movement, his hand keeping a quick pace over his cock. The only movement happening was because of Jackson's jerking his hips up into him, though he didn’t seem to mind considering the moans and groans that continued to pull from his throat, even as he jerked Roach off. 

They continued that way for several moments before the sound of another donation came through, both of them looking to it at the same time. 

“SudsNSkulls donated $3000: Bend him over in front of the camera and fuck him.”

Then a moment later:

“SudsNSkulls donated $4000: With Roach facing the camera, please”

They both paused for a moment, blinking at the size of the donations and the requests. Usually SudsNSkulls was much kinder with their requests. Usually they included some compliments and really just used the requests as a way to talk to him without having to deal with chat. These messages were more demanding and they almost had an annoyed tone to them. It was like they were upset. He brushed the thought off quickly. Why would they be upset? After all, he hadn't done anything wrong.

Jackson was the one to move, his hands grabbing at Roach's hips to pull him off of his lap. Roach couldn't help but whine at the sudden emptiness he was hit with. Though, it didn't last long as Jackson moved to his feet. Arms wrapped around him from behind and within a few seconds Jackson was slipping back inside of him. 

One of his friend's hands roamed over his chest for a moment, tweaking over his nipples with quick flicks and strokes. His other hand returned to Roach's cock, stroking over him with quick flicks of his wrist. Roach whined at the feeling, tossing his head back against Jackson's shoulder and gripping at his arms helplessly. "Hear that Darlin'?" Jackson's hand on his nipples moved away to trail up and around his neck, giving just a slight bit of pressure there, just enough for Roach to feel it. "Your viewers don't think you were being good. They don't think you were riding me properly."

"I'm sorry," Roach whimpered, his eyes fixed innocently on the camera. "Sorry, sorry, I- ah fuck, Paul!" He stuttered through his words as Jackson pulled out of him just enough that he could thrust back in harshly. 

Jackson chuckled at his reaction, "No excuses Darlin', don't worry, I'll help you out since you can't do it yourself." His hand around the front of Roach's neck was quick to move around to grip at the back and soon he was shoving Roach forward until he was bent over in front of him. The hand on his cock moved away to grab at Roach's waiting wrists, holding them firmly behind his back as a way to restrain him and keep him from falling forward. 

Within the next moment, Jackson was pulling out of him to slam back in harshly, jolting him forward in a harsh move that surely would have sent him to the floor if it hadn't been for Jackson holding him up. He did his best to keep his head up as pleasure slammed into him over and over. It was hard to do when his legs were shaking and he felt like his eyes might roll back in his head. At this angle, Jackson could hit deeper inside of him and, with his friend's experience, it was no surprise to Roach that his prostate was getting nailed over and over. 

He only just managed to keep his head from tilting forward as his mouth hooked open with whines, moans, and pleas of his friend's name spilling from his lips. Jackson responded with grunts and groans of his own and, feeling his friend twitch inside of him, he knew that neither of them was going to last much longer. 

The pleasure building inside of him was almost overwhelming with its intensity and his cock felt achingly hard. His mind felt completely hazy with it and he could hardly even make out the words on the screen in front of him when another request came in. It took him several moments too long to read it and he had to scan over it several times before he actually connected what was going on. Based on the way that Jackson was laughing through his moans, his friend had certainly picked up on the fact that he was essentially fucking his brains out. If Roach had been able to think more clearly he certainly would have groaned, knowing that he likely wasn't going to hear the end of Jackson's smug words on that fact for some time. 

"SudsNSkulls donated $3000: You want to come for us sweet boy?"

That was the SudsNSkulls that Roach was used to and he practically answered on instinct once his brain finally deciphered what he was reading. "Yes! Yes ple- oh fuck, ah, ah, please! Want to come for you!"

Jackson chuckled from behind him and redoubled his efforts, slamming into him harder with every smack of his hips. To his surprise though, his friend didn't speak a word, he just continued to fuck into him, the movement of his hips quickly growing more and more erratic as his breathing and moans grew in speed and intensity. Another donation came in.

"SudsNSkulls donated $3000: come for us then sweet boy, let us see you"

Roach whined at the words on the screen and he was helpless to stop himself as the pleasure that had been rising in his body finally crashed. His mind went fuzzy and his legs shook as he finished with a cry, spilling onto his thighs and the floor in front of him. Even as he shook with the overwhelming pleasure that was pulled from his body, Jackson continued to fuck into him, driving him quickly toward overstimulation. He was tired, though, so he could do nothing but let himself be used by his friend.

After several long moments, he was suddenly yanked up from his bent over position and pulled back against his friend's chest. He understood why when, a moment later, he could feel Jackson's hips stutter over once then twice before he gave one last harsh thrust and spilled inside of Roach. 

Roach moaned at the feeling of his friend twitching inside him, cum spilling down the backs of his thighs as Jackson rode out his own high. Jackson slowed his hips bit by bit until he was just sitting inside Roach, both of them taking desperate breaths as the tingling pleasure in their bodies continued before eventually starting to fade. 

Jackson pressed sweet kisses to his shoulder and they stayed in place for several moments, his hands rubbing over Roach's chest comfortingly. The sound of another donation came through.

"SudsNSkulls donated $2000: so good for us. Can we see your pretty hole baby?"

Roach could feel his entire body flushing red at the request. Chat was going wild, excitedly agreeing with the request and begging to see him. He could feel Jackson hiding his laughter in his shoulder for a moment but, obeying the request, his friend slowly started pulling out of him. The move drew matching groans from their mouths and, once Jackson was fully out of Roach and moving away, Roach found himself clenching around nothing, a bit of a pout of his face from the rather quick absence. 

Jackson stepped out of the frame of the camera and started to clean himself up a bit, retrieving the pjs he'd set aside for after stream so he could begin getting dressed. He shot a quick grin and wink to Roach, mouthing for him to show himself off. Roach could only roll his eyes at his friend before obediently turning around for the camera.

Despite the heat that burned through him at the move, he allowed his chat to get a good look at his ass before reaching back to spread himself open so that they could get a look. He was sure it was a sight considering there was still cum dripping from inside of him. He stayed like that for another several moments before turning back around so that he was facing the camera, a shy smile on his face. Another donation came through.

"SudsNSkulls donated $1000: You're fucking perfect"

As usual, the compliment had Roach going red and scampering out of the frame of the camera. Lucky for him, Jackson was already fully dressed and could take his place in front of the camera. His friend collapsed back to the bed, a water bottle in his hands as he gave a bright grin to the camera and took several slow sips. His chat was already excitedly talking and asking questions, so Jackson took the time to start answering them, his eyes occasionally trailing over to where Roach was cleaning himself up and getting dressed.

"Roach," Jackson gave a snicker, "Chat wants to know when Logan is going to join us for a stream."

Roach snorted from off camera, amusement flooding through him. "Listen," he called, "I know chat wants to see me get spitroasted, but we're going to have to find someone else. Logan's boyfriend would probably have a few issues with him coming on stream."

"I bet Ramirez would come spitroast you with me," Jackson's face was twisted into something playful and his words had Roach giving a laugh of his own.

"Doubt it, Ramirez has a big boy job that I doubt he wants to lose." Roach moved back into the view of the camera, now fully dressed and cleaned with his own water bottle in hand. He climbed into the bed with Jackson, collapsing into his friend's arms with a sigh of relief. "Why don't we just wait on the spitroasting thing."

"I know two people I'm sure you'd love to have spitroast you," Jackson said playfully. Roach was quick to send him a harsh glare. He absolutely did not need his friend teasing him about his crush on Soap and Ghost at that moment. He was sure he would die of embarrassment if someone figured out who they were talking about.

He quickly turned his gaze back to chat, ignoring all of the questions from chat about what Jackson had said in favor of reading a question about how his day had been instead. He and Jackson continued answering questions on and off, several of them coming from the account that Jackson had been lovingly referring to as his "money maker." SudsNSkulls were asking all sorts of questions to him and he was quick to notice that all of their questions were directed at him and him alone. They seemed to be ignoring Jackson to the best of their ability.

It wasn't until after the stream ended that it clicked for him that maybe his usually sweet donos had been a bit rougher this time around because Jackson was there. It was an odd thought and when he'd questioned it aloud to Jackson, his friend had only laughed at him.

Soap laid his head fully against Ghost's sweaty chest. Both of them were naked and worn out, Roach's stream having just ended. They'd watched it, though it had certainly been a struggle for both of them. 

They didn't like to consider themselves as jealous men, but seeing Roach whining and moaning under another man, a man that they knew he was close with, it had caused a lot of trouble for both of them when the stream had started. They hadn't even sent anything until things had well and started, both of them were too stunned and jealous to even think of what to do. Finally, though, Roach's sweet moans and desperation had won them over. Soap had sent an, admittedly, aggressive message to Jackson over the donations. They certainly hadn't come to watch the man they'd come to be somewhat "obsessed" with suck someone else's dick. The worst thing was that they couldn't even have a good look at Roach during the process, so they truly had been getting nothing but frustration from it.

So Soap had sent a rather aggressive message to get the focus back on Roach. Things had certainly gone better for them when Roach had started getting fucked. They could both focus on the sound of his moans and his face twisted up in pleasure. And, though they both hated to admit it, seeing a cock pounding into Roach had certainly been a pleasant feast for their eyes.

They'd both managed to finish alongside Roach as usual, and Soap had been more than pleased to take screenshot after screenshot of Roach's abused and dripping hole. Then of course they'd been forced to take several minutes of just Jackson on screen followed by a conversation about spitroasting Roach that had both Ghost and Soap's minds running wild with ideas alongside jealousy that burned at them with the idea of any other two people fucking Roach. 

They'd stuck around to ask Roach questions and shower him with praise, though they'd both been more than grumpy at the sigh of him curled up on Jackson's chest. Now, with the stream over, they both found themselves laying in silence with one another, both trying to figure out what to say.

It was Soap that broke the careful silence. He turned to Ghost suddenly, pushing himself up so that he could rest on his arms and look at his boyfriend. "We absolutely can not let anyone else spitroast Roach."

Ghost blinked at him for several moments, "Soap-"

"No!" Soap gave him a scowl, "I know what you said. We can't get attached. We're friends with him and that's it. He can't know that we watch his streams. I remember!" He moved closer to Ghost and glared at him, "But tell me seeing someone else fuck him didn't make you want to scream. Tell me that you haven't been looking at him when we video chat like he hung the fucking stars. Tell me that you aren't in love with him." Ghost turned his face away, avoiding Soap's gaze. A moment went by, he said nothing. Soap gave a deep sigh at his silence. He brought one of his hands up to start tracing circles along his skin. They didn't speak.

"I thought," after several moments Ghost's hesitant voice pierced the air, "I thought that's what you wanted. I said that for you."

Soap gave another sigh, "I was upset at first. You know that. I think anyone would be if they came to the sudden realization that their boyfriend was in love with some random twitch streamer they'd never heard of." He gave a huff, "but I started watching his streams, trying to figure out what it was about him that made you fall and…well, I was the one to suggest that we watch his other streams together, wasn't I?" He turned away from Ghost with red dusting his cheeks, "That wasn't just for you, you know? I kinda figured out why you'd fallen for him pretty quickly."

Ghost brought a hand up to rub against his arm softly. The touch was comforting. "So when we started watching him?"

"I wanted him too," Soap admitted lowly. "And he's just, well you know! He's so cute and sweet! Then we actually met him and he's just," he struggled to find the right words.

"So much more incredible in person," Ghost finished for him and Soap gave a quick nod. The two paused for another long moment before Ghost asked, "So what do you want to do?"

"Well," Soap gave a petulant huff, "first, I want to make sure that no one but us fucks Roach on camera again. And, I guess second, I want us to make him ours. I mean really ours."

"Like," Ghost hesitated, as though he was still unsure, "Bring him into our relationship. Make him our boyfriend?"

Soap watched him for a moment, "Yes. That's what I want. I want him to be ours. What do you want?"

"I," Ghost took in a shakey breath, "I want him. I want all of him. I want it…so much."

"Then," Soap leaned forward, pressing his lips to Ghosts in a short sweet kiss, "We agree. We'll make him ours."

Ghost let out a puff of breath, his entire body relaxing. Soap had to grin at him. They'd both been fighting their own wants, but that was finished. They'd been open with one another and they could finally relax. They both wanted Roach. They both wanted to add him to their relationship. They both knew it would be easier said than done. 

[lostfirefly]

With each word your tenderness grows, tearing my fear apart, and that laugh that wrinkles your nose, it touches my foolish heart (Ch.2)

Buggy tries to reconcile with Сatherine after the incident at the bar.

English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Warnings: The fluffiest fluff. Pink ponies ran across the keyboard :)

I swear I was writing the lines about crusts when I saw a related post from @hey-august

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series

Words: 1558

The title is taken from "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra

Taglist: @gingernut1314

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Chapter 1

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Catherine was sitting in the kitchen with a newspaper and her morning coffee when, swaying from the amount of beer he had drunk, Buggy entered the room wearing only his pants.

"Oh, geeeeez. Last night was fun. Good morning, my cotton candy," he scratched his head and flopped back in his chair.

Catherine, still holding the paper, slid the glass of painkiller over to him.

“Thank you so much! You're my best!” He rose from his chair and wanted to kiss her on the lips, but she got up and stepped back to the coffee machine.

"The weather report didn't say anything about a storm. What's wrong?" He watched Catherine’s every move.

She poured him coffee and set out a plate of hot cheese sandwiches with crusts. At the beginning of their relationship, she didn't know about his hatred of crusts and sincerely didn't understand the reason for his endless “ew, gross” whining. But she was always amused by that childish trait of his. Soon, the crust sandwich became her silent way of saying "I'm mad at you." 

He was silent for a second and looked first at the plate, then at Catherine, then back at the plate. "Are you mad? Why?"

She leaned across the table and started writing something on the paper. Buggy tried to make out what she was writing. Catherine showed the "I'm not talking to you" sheet.

“Oh, come on, what did I do?”

She she waved her hands questioningly and started writing something again and showed him the new sheet.

“Figure it out for yourself..” he muttered. “How can I understand what’s wrong if you don't say anything?!” He looked at Catherine with a mute question in his eyes. She finished her coffee and set the mug on the table, glaring at Buggy with an angry look. He could have sworn he saw the flames of hell in her eyes.

“Ok. Fine. I got it. I can play your game too. I'll eat sandwiches with these fucking crusts!” He took two bites of bread, made a face, crossed his arms and looked at her. “Are you happy now?”

She showed big thumbs and left the room. 

Buggy sat in the kitchen for about 30 minutes, periodically rattling cabinet doors and cursing loudly. Then he went into the living room and sat there for a long time. An inner voice told him to get up and go to talk to his girlfriend but stupidity and stubborness sat him back down on the couch. 

Finally he went into the bedroom. “Just for your information, I..” He saw Catherine rummaging through the shelves and putting something into a bag. “W-What are you doing?” He asked with obvious concern in his voice. She kept silent. 

He watched her for a few more minutes, grabbed his t-shirt and slammed the door. Catherine sat down on the bed, sighed heavily and wiped her wet eyes.

Buggy returned home an hour later. He walked silently through the living room toward the bedroom. When he saw her lying on her side of the bed, a quiet "thanks god, you’re here" escaped his lips. Her eyes were closed.

Catherine opened one eye when she felt something standing in front of her face. A floating hand with a bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums dangled before her eyes. She opened her other eye, smiled slightly, and took the bouquet. At the same time, a second floating hand brought a vase and placed it on the nightstand. Catherine could barely contain her laughter. She lifted herself from the bed, dipped the flowers into the water and lay back down, covering herself with a plaid blanket. She felt something heavy lay down behind her and pressed closer.

“Catherine, my favorite pie. Please, talk to me.” Buggy whispered barely audibly, burying his face in her red hair. She sighed heavily once again. 

He gently placed his hand on her wrist. “Cotton candy.. I-I-I’m s-s-sorry.” She remained silent. He waited for the answer for a couple minutes, then removed his hand and was about to get out of bed.

"I didn't give you permission to leave," came Catherine’s stern voice.

“What?” Buggy asked, confused.

She indicated with her hand at the point where he was a moment ago. Buggy quickly laid back down and buried his face in her hair again. He gently hugged her and moved closer.

“I’m an idiot, yeah?” 

“Totally,” she chuckled.

“I-I-I’m so so sorry if I hurt you. I didn't want to.”

“But you did..”

“Damn me! So so sorry for that. I sometimes don't use my brain before I do or speak something.”

“Sometimes? Are you kidding? Don't tell me about “sometimes”. I've been living with you for several months since the day I almost flew home.” She laughed slightly.

“Oh, I remember that day and our hot night. That was great, agree?” He hugged her tightly.

“You're such a fool. How often do I say that I hate you?” Catherine smiled widely and pressed her back closer to him.

“Every single day, baby. But you're still my favorite ass. You know that?” He kissed the back of her head and said calmly. “It's difficult. Being in a relationship is difficult for me. This is something new and I don’t always know how to react correctly. But I'll learn, I promise.”

They both kept silent for a few minutes. 

“To lose you,” Buggy said quietly.

“What?” Catherine turned her head towards him.

“You asked me about my biggest fear. To lose you. Just these words about betrayal and your friend reminded me..” He looked away, rubbing his hand over her hand. “I’m afraid that one day someone better will come and take you away from me. And you will leave me too.”

Catherine caught on the last word. “Too?” She looked at him and tried to read the reaction to her question in his eyes. 

He fell silent again. She turned to him, covered him with a plaid blanket and took his hand.

“Buggy, if something bothers you and you want to talk.. but if you don't want to talk about it or you're not ready, I don't want to push on you.” 

He exhaled heavily. "Remember that night after you found out about my chop chop abilities? You were crying like a little girl that day..”

“I wasn't crying!!” 

“Liar! You were scared, just admit it.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, it's not every day that I see a person who can assemble and disassemble himself like some kind of fucking Lego!” She said teasingly. 

“Come on, I liked that. You were too cute.” He kissed her forehead. “Well… I mentioned a former friend, also red-haired like you. So.. When we were kids..."

Buggy told her everything. About his friend and the betrayal, about his abilities and how he'd trained on the island. Catherine sat cross-legged on the bed, held his hand, listened attentively, not taking her eyes off Buggy. In his eyes she saw pain and sadness. 

"If I ever meet your Shanks, I'll chop off more than just his other arm," Catherine hadn't expected such an angry tone from herself. “Nobody dares to hurt my clown. Shit.. Now I feel guilty for telling that stupid story and for my question.”

“Don't be, my cotton candy. It’s just.. a hard theme for me. Just don't leave me, please. But if you want…” 

“What? I’m not going to leave you. Where would I go? To the desert to sleep in pyramids? I don't know if you know but It’s cold there. But if I leave.. but I won't. I know, you’ll come for me and take me home.” She moved closer to him, hugged him and ran her fingertips along his cheek “I love you, my Buggy Bear.”

He looked at her with a question in his eyes. “But why? I piss you off sometimes. And.. Look at you and look at me. I’m just a mis…”

She pressed her finger on his lips.

“Don't you dare to finish this sentence and don't dare to say something bad about the man I love. Even if sometimes I want to kill you or cut you into pieces and hide your parts all over fucking Egypt, for some unknown reason you make me happy. Hey, follow my hand. That's how happy I’m with you.” Catherine raised her hand high. “And this is how it is without you.” She lowered her hand to the level of the bed. And repeated the motions again. “Watch again. With you. Without you. Just don’t do this shit again, please. At least try not to.” She laughed and kissed his cheek. 

“I’ll try. But it's hard because.. you know. It's me. It's not easy being in a relationship with me”

“Oh, yes. It's not a child’s play. But I love difficulties” She hugged him and gave him one more kiss on his cheek. 

“Hey.. Are we okay?” 

“Yeah.. Wow! You see how great we are. We talked.” Catherine suddenly laughed out loud to the point of tears. “We’re growing like a real couple. Let's always do this, my little asshole.”

“Your little asshole now owes you a date, right? So! My cotton candy,” Buggy got out of bed and gave her his hand, “Get dressed. I'm taking you for a walk.”

[eepy-whumpee]

cw // choking, language, work drama

Whumpee’s lucked into this job. At least, that’s what they tell themselves as they stare at the day’s pay worth of Italian takeout sitting on their countertop, right next to the bottle of white wine gifted to Whumpee at a white elephant party over a year ago. They’d been saving it for one such special occasion.

Life will go on after this potentially disastrous dinner, and Whumpee will have leftover chicken alfredo for their next two lunches, but it’s difficult to believe that when the three days leading up to this moment have been a cortisol-fueled blur...

One explosive, incriminating email read at 12:04 AM Friday, and the metaphorical shrapnel’s still lodged into Whumpee’s brains 6:14 PM Sunday.

Whumper raps on the door at 6:22 PM. They’re alone… More like three lunches now. God...

Whumper steps into the front doorway which also happens to be the kitchen, “Should I take my shoes off?”

Whumpee blinks as the absurdity of Whumper asking that question– and really this whole situation– hits them– Whumper’s already halfway bent over reaching for their high-end sneakers–

“No! No… You’re good.”

Whumper nods quickly, like that was the correct answer... or the wrong answer… Whumpee can't exactly tell.

Whumper walks past Whumpee, turning and hunching as their impenetrable eyes rove over the meal on the counter and cheap, ceramic plates.

Whumpee can't bring themself to move. The seconds pass interminably slowly, and then suddenly Whumper's looking at them directly, evaluating and re-evaluating. 

"So," Whumper pulls their mouth into a straight line, almost friendly.

"Thank you for coming. I know this is a little… out of the way," Whumpee breathes a laugh.

Whumper's expression somehow becomes even tighter.

Whumpee makes their way over to the food, "I got some Italian. Um… and we can talk. Whatever you wanna talk about first, we can do that. Um…"

Whumper’s face doesn't change much.

"... How's your day been?"

Whumper walks towards Whumpee, "It's been fine."

"Yeah?"

Whumper slaps Whumpee across the face, against the cheekbone– stinging– aching– it's vicious– bruise already forming as Whumpee flexes their jaw in shock.

Whumpee turns away, stumbling, and Whumper catches Whumpee by the nape of their cotton t-shirt, pulling them back and shoving them face-first into painted white cabinet doors.

Whumpee takes a strained breath in as the ribbed shirt collar digs into their windpipe. Swallowing on instinct, the descending bobbing of their throat stops wholesale when it catches on the edge of the fabric, and even that heartbeat of choking is enough to make Whumpee cough desperately, spraying drops of spit.

Whumper twists the fabric in their fist a bit tighter, pulling Whumpee up by the scruff til their heads are close to an even height. Whumpee’s sock-covered toes just manage to keep themselves attached to the hardwood.

Whumper leans over Whumpee's shoulder to listen to the rattling inhale that climbs out of Whumpee’s throat again and again and again, never to meet relief. The musk of cologne on Whumper’s collar fills Whumpee’s nostrils with no air to push it back out.

"Okay, listen…" Whumper starts.

Whumpee grabs the counters, drawer handles, straining for any kind of resistance. Whumper slams Whumpee's head against the cabinet door, producing a resonant thud.

"You're gonna listen to me, you fucking shitheel," Whumper shakes Whumpee again for emphasis, "You're listening?"

Whumpee tries to nod, what with hair smooshed into their face and a nauseating burning flooding through their brow ridge.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, I'm going to let go of you, and then you're going to tell me your answers. Okay?"

Whumper doesn't seem okay. Whumpee nods again weakly, still choking– starting to slip–

"What did you read? And who exactly have you been talking to?"

[cecilysass]

Still Feeling My Father Ascend (1/4)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter One

Memory: 1984

Mulder is packing his suitcase to return to Oxford after a summer spent split awkwardly between his parents’ homes when his father unexpectedly comes into the bedroom. He watches his son fold his shirts and smokes a cigarette. Mulder waits.

After a minute his father clears his throat. “I should have talked to you more about girls,” he says. “It’s probably too late now, but I hope you’re smart about it.”

Mulder doesn’t look up from his suitcase, tucking socks methodically in between folded shirts. His father takes an audible drag.

“It’s easy to make mistakes,” his father continues. “Don’t get attached too soon. You’re a… well, you’re kind of an idealistic kid. Soft. Don’t marry the first girl you fall in love with.”

By this point in his life, Mulder has already been in love. He might have gone on to marry her, had she been willing. Had she not broken his heart. His father knows nothing of this, of course. Mulder continues to pack without responding.

“You’re old enough to understand that I made some mistakes in my own life,” his father says. “A man makes a bad choice, and he’s stuck. He’s not … satisfied. For years. I don’t want the same for you.”

A deep well of anger pits in Mulder’s stomach, thinking of his silent and broken mother, but still he doesn't speak.

“I guess what I’m trying to say, Fox, is that there’s no point in trying to be a good man,” his father continues. “That’s a waste of your efforts. There’s no such thing as a good man. The more you try to be good, you only get trapped, compromised. The best thing to do is try … to avoid entanglements.”

Mulder lets out a very slow and silent sigh. Avoid entanglements. He isn’t surprised this is his father’s dating advice, but it depresses him nonetheless.

“Anyway. I know you probably have your own ideas about things. You’re not a kid anymore. But that’s my two cents.”

At last Mulder looks up. He realizes he’s been clenching his jaw. “Okay,” he says tightly. “Thanks, Dad.”

Nodding, his father sucks on the cigarette, regards him for a moment, and leaves.

Mulder looks down into the suitcase and notices his body is trembling. With anger, with fright, with unexpressed need. He can barely calm down enough to continue packing, but he does somehow.

The absolute last thing he’d ever intended to do was follow his father’s advice. But later, he realizes that somehow he did anyway.

January 1994

The forecast is predicting at least a foot of snow, possibly more: a record-busting winter storm for metro D.C., the local news breathlessly proclaims. Scully dutifully checks in with her recently widowed mother, but both Bill and Melissa are still staying there, so it’s decided there’s really no need for her to drive over.

“Jesus, she’s not still working, is she? Tell her to go home before the roads get bad,” Bill grumbles audibly in the background of the phone conversation. He probably thinks it’s now his role to needle her about her job, she realizes. He’s presumed that the mantle has fallen on him.

“You’ll be careful, Dana, won’t you?” Her mother’s grief has been manifesting as anxiety, as though the sheer unpredictability of the world has rattled her to the core. “Don’t drive if you don’t have to.”

“I won’t, Mom. I’m already home, actually.”

“Will your partner check in with you? That’s what partners do, right?”

“Probably,” says Scully. She doesn’t say that Mulder is still recovering from his gunshot wound—that in fact she’s considering whether she should check in on him. This would mean she’ll probably end up driving in the snow.

“Oh good,” her mother says. “That’s good.” An odd little pause. “I’d like to meet him, you know. Your partner.” Scully, who has been putting up dishes in her kitchen cabinet, freezes in place, plate midair. “Your father would have, too. He understood the importance of a good shipmate.” Her mother’s voice has begun to unravel a little. “Anyway, you should invite him for dinner sometime.”

“Oh,” Scully says, beginning to move again, putting the plate away. “That would be… maybe I will.”

It’s unimaginable, Mulder making conversation with her mother. The idea unsettles her.

“Tell Dana to call and update you this weekend so you don’t worry,” comes Melissa’s firm voice in the background.

“I will,” Scully promises her mother. “I’ll call tomorrow and let you know how I’m faring in the snow.”

“Just stay inside,” her mother says again. “Nothing risky, Dana. Warm and cozy.”

&&&

The first flakes of snow descend lazily over Alexandria. Mulder watches in a sullen huff through his blinds, wishing he were at work, wishing he were with the Gunmen in their filthy paranoid frat house. Wishing that he were anywhere else, really, anywhere besides alone in this apartment.

He hooks the blinds with his finger and bends them down, trying to lean over to evaluate traffic on the street below. This movement unexpectedly hurts. He winces and places a hand on his leg, where the bandage still covers the consequence of his failure to heed Boggs’ warning.

Years ago, when Mulder first wrote the profile on Boggs, he was a different man. An overgrown boy, really: eager to be noticed for his intellect, eager to be praised by people in authority. Fine work, Agent Mulder. You’re going places.

That people-pleasing iteration of Mulder is so long gone that he can’t really remember what it felt like to be inside his head. He wonders what his go-getter younger self would think, knowing that his much-lauded Boggs profile was wrong.

No. Not wrong, maybe, but incomplete. It was a snapshot of Boggs before his first brush with death, before something otherworldly touched him, leaving him marked with psychic ability and a strange new empathy.

The profile described him well as a deeply evil human being, but he was more than that. He was an X-file. Which Mulder, of all people, missed.

And Scully didn’t. Scully didn’t. She believed, at least a little.

He is discovering that his new partner is a deceptively complex text, a holy book with no easy exegesis. During this case, Mulder misread every line. She had moved around him pale and stricken, still tender with grief, lips resolute. Eyes somehow seeing what they normally did not. Never saying exactly what was in her heart or in her mind. She was completely opaque to him.

The flakes whirl and puff, growing in intensity.

His experimental side prompts him to wriggle his fingers through the blinds to touch the glass of the window. It’s so cold it stings his fingertips. He winces and immediately shoves his hands under his armpits to warm them.

Right now, with the storm bearing down, he probably should be less introspective and more actively worried about his physical well-being. He doesn’t have a ton of food in the apartment, which is a fairly significant problem. He’s still not up for going out on long grocery sojourns through the snow. If takeout can’t make it to him, he’s in trouble.

Idly he walks to the fish tank and picks up the canister of fish food to read over the ingredients. Squid meal. Earthworms. Probably shouldn’t share a meal with the mollies.

Maybe I should order twenty orders of General Tso’s chicken right now, he considers. It’d probably make it here before the full impact of the blizzard, and I could live off that for a week. He wonders how long it’s actually safe to eat leftover Chinese food, if you keep it in the fridge.

His thought process is interrupted by a knock on his front door. He suspects it’s the building super, reminding them to leave the faucets dripping tonight.

Instead, it’s his partner: all business, lightly dusted with snow.

“Mulder,” she says briskly. She has powdery flakes spangling her hair, the mulberry-colored knit hat on top of her head, the surface of her coat. “Let me in. I’m freezing.”

“Sure,” he says in surprise. “Hey.”

She’s carrying four large brown paper bags, full of food. Instinctively he moves to help her carry them, but she nudges him away with her hip. “You’re not supposed to lift anything,” she reminds him. “The stitches.”

He takes a quick peek into an open bag. She’s brought him groceries. He stands amazed as she edges past him, making her way towards his kitchen.

It isn’t the first time in the months of their partnership that Scully has seemed to read his mind, responding to his cue without him having to ask, but he is still utterly bewildered by it. He is, apparently, not a difficult text for her.

“How did you know I needed food?” He calls after her into the kitchen.

“You did, didn’t you?” She is busy putting food away in his fridge. “Mulder, what is this in this jar? Pickles? How old are these?”

“Probably best to throw them out,” he says diplomatically.

“From careful observation, I have my suspicions that you never cook,” she says, putting some cheese in the fridge. “Forgive me if that’s off base. Based on that assumption I bought you some jarred spaghetti sauce and pasta, sandwich fixings, eggs. Are you capable of making eggs?”

“Of course,” Mulder says, affronted. “I can cook. I just don’t. And I’m recovering from surgery, Scully.”

“I bought some fruit and vegetables, but also”—she pushes a crackling bag of potato chips into his hands—“I know how you enjoy the snacks. And your damn sunflower seeds, obviously.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Really—thank you.”

She is moving around so quickly he can’t make eye contact. He wonders how she feels, how she is holding up. He doesn’t want to offend her by asking.

She begins piling non-perishable items on his kitchen counter. “If we get as much snow as they say, I won’t be able to stop by for a few days, so don’t forget to pay attention to how your wound looks. Change the dressing. Walk around the apartment regularly to avoid blood clots. If you have a fever, call 911.”

“Yes, Doc,” he says. “Are you going to stay and have some”—he picks up a cardboard box from the pile of groceries and examines it—“hot cocoa with me?”

She smiles, slowing her pace at last and folding her arms over her chest. “I’d love to, but no. I need to beat the storm home. I promised my mom I’d stay safe.”

“You should go now then,” Mulder urges. “It’s already starting to come down pretty hard, and the traffic will be terrible.”

“You’re right,” she says. “Okay. Don’t do anything unwise. I’ll check in tomorrow.”

She leans forward to embrace him, briefly, and he has the ridiculous notion she is about to kiss his cheek. “Take care,” she says brusquely.

Of course she doesn’t kiss his cheek. It’s Scully—who is probably taking extra care of him because work is her coping mechanism for grief—not some new woman he’s dating. The category confusion makes him feel a little ashamed, like he has been caught thinking something perverted.

She rushes out of the apartment, her dark coat trailing behind her. Once the door closes, Mulder notes the twinge of disappointment he feels. He’s simply attached to her. Something he wouldn’t have ever been able to predict when she first showed up. He’d actually doubted his ability to make new friends at all, and now here she is, anticipating he wouldn’t have food.

He walks over to look out the window behind his desk again. He’s surprised to see that the snow is coming down much harder now, and the wind has started to gust.

Visibility is poor. The temperature is dropping. Deep freeze tonight.

&&&

Thirty-five minutes later, Mulder is on his couch wolfing down a warm bowl of pasta and watching the local weather coverage when there is an alarming pounding at his door. The door frame seems to shake with the force.

He rises cautiously to look out the peephole and frowns. His partner, again.

He unlocks the door quickly. This time, she’s got no mere dusting of snow: she is crusted over with great slabs, veins of snow and ice creeping over her hat and coat and jeans and sneakers. Her face is wind-bitten; she is shivering violently.

“Scully.” He hurries her inside. “What the hell? What happened to you?”

“Car battery,” she says, her voice tight. “Dead a few blocks from here. I had to abandon the car and walk back.”

“You’re never supposed to leave your car,” Mulder scolds her, taking off her coat and knocking snow off her. “It’s the safest place to be in a blizzard. You should have called for help. Anything can happen to you out in the open snow.”

Her facial expression suggests this isn’t the right time for a lecture on winter weather safety from a native New Englander. “I need to warm up,” she replies, her teeth chattering.

“All right, of course,” he says more gently. “Go get out of these clothes and get in the shower. I’ll try to find you something else to wear.”

“I can’t stay here tonight,” she says, her tone approaching a whine, her words still clipped short with the shivering. “I’m supposed to be at home. I bought all these groceries. I have a good book. I’m supposed to call my mom tomorrow and tell her I’ve been careful.”

“Scully, it’s going to be okay,” he says reassuringly. “It could be much worse. I’ve got a sleeping bag somewhere around here. I’ll sleep there, and you can have the couch.”

“The couch,” she repeats, as if stunned.

“It’ll be a sleepover. We’ll tell ghost stories and do each other’s hair.”

“So pretty much like work,” she says, nodding, between her chattering teeth, “except with hair care.” She turns to walk towards his bathroom.

“Oh, hey, listen, if there are any magazines in there,” Mulder calls out, “they aren’t mine. Just don’t pay any attention to them.”

“You better have a bottle of wine, Mulder,” comes Scully’s voice.

[starfall-spirit]

Renaissance Masterlist

If you were offline yesterday, read Chapter V first.

The chapter title was taken from a Gary Allen song. Spice will arrive in chapter 7, promise.

Word Count: 979

Chapter VI: Every Storm Runs Out of Rain

 The night could not be more of a mess. But if spiraling about her developing feelings wasn’t bad enough, then the sky had to open on them, an unexpected summer storm chasing them into the shelter of the villa. “Ugh, I’m drenched! Rhys, no!”

She squealed, bolting for the other side of the room as he grinned ear to ear, shaking his head to fling water in every direction. That grin held as he ran a hand down his face, shaking more water free of his hand. Her eyes inevitably dipped lower, assessing how his thin button-down clung to the toned muscles she’d ignored well enough before then.

He cleared his throat, a light in his eyes and a smug smirk betraying any offense or irritation her staring may have caused. Proud bastard. She blushed hotly, pointedly turning down the hall and muttering something about dry pajamas. Maybe if she hid in her room she could just pretend nothing happened today. That she wasn’t—

No. She thought she was in love once. Look how that turned out. Tamlin had won her over just as easily. Now she was dealing with him stalking her.

She knew Rhys was arrogant at worst. She knew she’d never have to worry for her safety at the end of all this, but was she really ready to dive into something with another man infamous for sweet talking? How fast was she going to get her heart broken if she gave in? His father had called because Rhys had a reputation, after all. A proper marriage was the one thing Josiah wouldn’t interfere with.This was a long con. A game. She couldn’t get swept away in all of this. She couldn’t afford to. Even if things just ended up being sexual… Well, friends with benefits didn’t work so well for her. 

She took a deep breath. She could just lock herself in her room tonight. Rhys could have his space and she could have hers. They’d start fresh in the morning, acting totally, completely, utterly platonic. Yes, that’s it.

She jumped at the knock on the door. “Hey, I made a late night snack if you care to join me.”

Dammit. She was a little hungry. 

Throwing one of Mor’s oversized tees over her sports bra, she opened the door, finding Rhys on his way back to the kitchen and living area, his plate in hand. He had appeared to towel his hair dry, changing into shorts and an old band shirt she remembered him stealing from Cassian a few weeks ago, after their annual beginning of summer water fight.

She spotted a second plate on the counter that consisted of dried fruit, chips they had packed, and Rhys’ favorite gummy worms, also smuggled in. She suppressed a laugh. “Thank you, Rhys. I’m honored, being dubbed worthy of sharing your gummy worms.”

“As you should be.” She snorted, turning around with every intention of returning to her room. “Movie?”

He’d be the death of her. Because she really, really hated telling people no after they were nice to her. Today had been more than nice, if a bit torturous towards the end. She nodded, curling up in the plush chair adjacent to his seat on the long couch. She turned towards the screen, surprised to find Casablanca of all things playing. It was hardly a film she’d think would interest him.

“This was produced in the forties.”

“Yes.”

“I never imagined you were a black and white type.”

“My tastes are eclectic,” he replied. “We have a handful of VCRs in that cabinet and Mom’s a sucker for the older movies. I took after her there.”

“So astronomy and old movies. Interesting.” 

She turned back to the screen, nibbling at an apricot as the opening cast came on screen. She could handle a movie. Just as she actually started to believe that, relaxing into the chair, the rolling thunder boomed, cracking down with a blast of lightning that rattled the powerlines and left the two of them in the dark. Her plate flew from her lap and she cursed.

“It’s just a little storm, Feyre.” She ignored that comment, scrambling to clean up her mess, only pausing when warm fingers closed around her wrist. “Leave that. C’mere.” He led her to the kitchen, opened the drawer beside the refrigerator, and grabbed a couple of flashlights out of it, clicking both of them on and offering her one. “Okay?”

She nodded, though she didn’t argue when his grip around her wrist slid down, his fingers once again laced through hers. “C’mere,” he repeated, pulling her to the couch he had been seated on, dismissing the mess on the floor in favor of soothing her. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, very much aware of how her face was practically buried in his chest. “I can’t explain it. I’ve just always hated night storms. My sisters—When I was little and we were closer, I’d crawl in my sisters’ beds. Elain would sing to me sometimes. It wasn’t a problem when we… downsized.”

He hummed, making no comment on her phrasing. “Would you like me to sing something?” She raised her head, blinking as she comprehended the offer. Before she could deny it, a soft tenor melody was washing over her. It wasn’t lilting and soft as Elain often favored, but it was beautiful all the same. Deep, rich, soothing in its own somber note. Lulled by both the song and the vibrations of his chest, she wanted to memorize every word passing his lips. 

His voice hitched, and his song trailed to silence as she reached up to stroke the stubble at his jaw. “Thank you.”

And before she could convince herself to do something smart, she raised her hand to tangle her fingers in his silky hair, initiating a kiss she prayed she wouldn’t come to regret.

~~~~~

Sorry. Taglist fixed. Hope you enjoyed!

@goddess-aelin // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @reverie-tales // @acourtofwips // @jealousveronya // @darling-archeron // @acotar-fanns

[asstarien]

“ILL.”

 synopsis : chan deals with heavy anxiety and stress, he often has trouble dealing with it effectively.

 warnings : anxiety talk , angsty scenarios , mentions of self harm , allusion to sex , sex as a coping mechanism , men showing emotion … if you hate that? both chan and reader are toxic… [18+]

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION



“sometimes i feel like im trapped in a black room with no way to escape.”

chan punched at the blacked out walls, screaming into the never ending void of silence for help. for anyone to listen.

“nobody ever comes…im just left screaming until my throat feels like i-it’s bleeding and my…m-my fists are so bloody and raw. the dream drains me and when i finally wake up im screaming in real life too.”

your hands ran up and down his chest, soothing him before you nuzzled your forehead into his cheek. “channie? i’m here baby, im right here. it was just a dream. okay?”

“but it’s never just a dream. it’s always real life. it’s my real life.” his eyes burned with warning of crying. his fingers grabbed his nose, plugging it closed to stop the burn that radiated up his slimmed cheeks.

of course the stupid therapist jotted down everything he said, judging him silently. yet, he kept coming back because you ushered him here. telling him you were seeing a difference in the person he was becoming. Chan tried not to be hurt by this, he really did.

but once his brows scrunched together and his lips formed a heavy frown there was no turning back the argument that followed.

you guys argued for what felt like hours. it only ended because in the midst of the argument he began to put his shoes on, too riled up you didn’t notice or care that he was basically getting dressed to leave. when the door slammed in your face you fell silent, suddenly bursting out into tears as the emotions collapsed at your feet.

turning to face the empty shell of a broken home, you picked up the leftovers for dinner, choking back sobs as you scraped dinner plates out and rinsed them to be washed.

he’d come home sooner or later, he always did.

his friends made it a habit to tell you if was crashing at their places but lately, they’ve stopped filling you in. you were left to wonder and stress until the next day he stumbled in, eyes bloodshot and sleepy.

as he normally did, Chan sauntered in, stone cold emotion clad to his features. it was obvious he had been crying, the stale crusty tears that festered against his pale skin was a huge giveaway. you wanted to act like you didn’t care, that leaving wasn’t a big deal but it was much bigger than you’d ever let on.

once he disappeared behind the wall to the kitchen, you sprinted behind him, taking silent steps to watch like a hawk at his next movements.

“i don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” Chan forced out, voice hoarse and low. he slammed cabinets shut, barely turning to look in your direction, to even acknowledge you were his wife to begin with. “i’m fine.”

“i’m sorry about what i said.” you searched his back, looking for any sign of change. any sign that he might be the old Chan again and spring to hug and kiss you. and when he didn’t, you sighed and carried on. “i will always love you, Chan. every part of you…and i fucking mean that.”

you bit your tongue hard to stop the water works that wanted to spill over onto your cheeks. “but you cannot be mad at me for wanting the old you back. you just can’t. you cannot be mad at me for wanting to get you help that i cannot give you anymore.”

Chan finally did falter, his shoulders drooped and you heard his chest do the little rattle like it did when he cried. his shoulders bounced as he cried, he started crying so hard he had to take hold of the counter top, bending over it. you stepped up behind him wrapping your arms around his midsection tightly, your cheek planted into his back as you both cried.



TWO MONTHS LATER

“how are things now?”

“a bit better. we’ve moved past a hurdle together i guess, the nightmares don’t wake me up screaming anymore.”

“did you find something healthy to cope with your anxiety?”

“you could say that.” Chan was thrilled with his new outlet. he could burn energy from thinking and make you feel better all in one setting. “but i ruined that i think.”

Chan pulled out of you with a low grunt, kissing just where your shoulder and neck met before he laid beside you. unhealthy, he resorted to fucking you and himself senseless to forget about the void that just couldn’t be filled inside.

at first, you didn’t complain since this was the most sex you’ve had with him in the 4 years you’ve been married to him.

he’d find you at your job, fuck you into oblivion in the nearest bathroom before leaving like nothing happened. then it was date nights, music release nights, and every other night or day he felt the need to release his demons.

you felt almost bad when he called you and you didn’t answer. completely fucked out from the previous nights to even bother throwing on a skimpy skirt for him to ruin. he absolutely demolished the call button, furious with you not picking up. it made him angry that you were ignoring him. on that last call he left a nasty voicemail that you sat in disbelief listening to, over and over again until tears welled in your eyes.

when he came home that night you tossed a bag of toiletries at him, “since i’m such an easy fucking lay, go find someone else who will let you fuck them. you fucking bastard.”

of course with his athletic abilities he caught it with ease, shaking his head at you. “you are an easy fuck. glad i got my use out of you before you became fucking crazy.”

“i’m the crazy one but you see a shrink. get the fuck out, Christopher.” your palm shoved him right out the door he came through, slamming it hard in his face before turning and locking it. you knew he didn’t have his keys so you left him there, hanging and shouting incoherent curses at you.



A WEEK LATER

“yes? mrs. bahng, we have Christopher here in the hospital. he hurt himself pretty badly and he needs to be driven home. we had to stitch him up.” it was a friendly man that woke you up from your slumber, he introduced himself as Doctor. Kim. he even stayed on the phone with you, describing your husband’s injuries.

when you burst through the door of the emergency room, throwing yourself at the desk, chanting Christopher’s full government like a mantra until they gave you a room.

“Chris? Chris?!” pushing past the nurse on-call, you fell into the chair beside his bed, examining him throughly before you threw your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably.

“i—im okay, y/n. im okay.” you couldn’t even look him in his bloodshot, teary eyes. your palms smoothed up his cheeks, cupping them as you planted hot kisses all over his face. you pecked his lips over and over until he was crying again, begging you for forgiveness.

the nurse on standby watched awkwardly before leaving the room to attend to another patient.

“what did you do baby? what did you do?” you held his arm up, examining the large bandage that wrapped around his wrist. your eyebrows scrunched in painful disbelief at the thought of him hurting himself, but it wasn’t something he was opposed to.

Chan needed to get rid of the feelings, all the emotions that clogged his brain and made him feel inhuman.

“i did something stupid. but i want to be here y/n, i want to be with you.”

there you went cupping his face again, kissing his tear covered face before guiding his head into your chest where you coddled him like a child.

“i want you here, Channie. I want to be with you forever.”



FOUR WEEKS LATER

“welcome to our session Mrs. Bahng. i’m glad you decided to come in today. i’ve heard some good things about you.” Dr. Lee shook your hand and welcomed you to sit, you gracefully took the chair next to your husband who was smiling brightly at your decision to show up.

you decided it was best you also seen a therapist to better understand what Chan was going through. to offer him healthy ways to cope and understand better what was happening to him.

during the entire process you listened deeply to your husband speak, tell you things you had no idea was happening to him. he told you stories of growing up that traumatized him and stories of you both meeting that truly changed the trajectory of his life.

grabbing his hand you intertwined his fingers with your own, bringing his hand up to your mouth to kiss his skin gently.

“i love you, through thick and thin. i will always be here, no more running. either of us. got it?”

“i got it, Mrs. Bahng. until death do us part.”

[catboyfever]

Harvest Day - Reader/Rabbit

Well, here it is. The first piece of fanfiction I've written in probably close to... seven years? Fair warning I am incredibly rusty at writing this sort of thing so this might not be spectacular. I hope you enjoy it anyway though! It was therapeutic to write this.

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Mornings with Rabbit were ordinarily surprisingly lax. While Rabbit liked to keep to his tight morning routine, it became apparent early on that you weren’t as much of a morning person as he was. For him, that didn’t matter too much. It gave him time to get breakfast and tea prepared for you in the morning so that when you joined him everything was just so. However instead of the usual warm greeting to wake you from your slumber like most mornings, Rabbit thrust the door open and shouted. 

“Good morning! I hope you got plenty of rest last night because you know what today is!!” He stepped over to the window and flung it open, revealing the very first signs of dawn. The deep indigo and purples of the early morning sky were slowly turning orange and yellow as the sun continued its lazy ascent. You find it a bit funny, watching the sun's leisurely path while Rabbit is the exact opposite. He’s already got his list out. 

“It’s harvest day, isn’t it?” You ask, yawning as you reluctantly kick the soft blankets off of you. 

“Not just any harvest day. It’s time to harvest my prized carrots we’ve been working on all season !” Rabbit’s enthusiasm was contagious, even at dawn. 

Rabbit begins to rattle off the itinerary for the day while you make the bed, carefully tucking the comforter back onto the mattress. 

“First we eat breakfast, then it’s right out to the field to harvest. Then you’ll help me wash and peel the carrots for our stew tonight. Then dinner and then finally, we can afford some free time.” He looked to you after brandishing his list and upon seeing you sitting on the bed furrowed his brow. 

“Well c’mon! We don’t have any time to spend lollygagging!!” He said while tugging you along to the kitchen. 

Breakfast was quick and simple: just some toast with a generous amount of honey. Plain, but plainly delicious too. The sweet gooey honey contrasting with the crunchy toast was a delight. Watching Rabbit hurriedly chomp away at his toast earned a quizzical glance from him that curled into a warm smile. Rabbit took the plates and quickly rinsed them before pulling one of the cabinet drawers open to toss you a pair of gardening gloves. 

He donned his own work gloves and lead the way to the garden. Rabbit’s garden from an outsider's point of view was something to behold. But being actively involved with it made you appreciate it further. The amount of constant care and meticulous upkeep that was needed to make these vegetables look as good as they do is something else. But to Rabbit it all comes naturally. The result of all that hard work was what today was all about. The harvest. 

Rabbit took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and sighed as he stared out at the rows of small leafy tops of the carrots waiting to be pulled from the ground. 

“Ahh… is there anything more beautiful than a sea of green and orange on harvest day?” He said dreamily. 

Once Rabbit got his hands on his wheelbarrow you had to run to keep up with him. He became a blur of yellow fur while all you could do was push the wheelbarrow behind him to catch the whirlwind of carrots flying towards you. You’d done this with him a few times now but it still amazes you the accuracy with which he can fling the carrots into the wheelbarrow while moving so fast. 

By the early afternoon the field is emptied and the wheelbarrow is overflowing with carrots, much to Rabbit’s delight as you push the heavy cart towards the house. Of course, the work isn’t done yet. 

You help carry in the carrots and rabbit immediately sets to work washing the carrots off in his sink while you peel them. The smooth peeled carrots are stacked neatly on the counter by Rabbit who readies a cutting board for the stew. Though the stew is primarily carrots, Rabbit tasks you with peeling some potatoes, washing some celery, and peeling an onion. 

Once you hand off the prepped vegetables to Rabbit you’re treated to another showing of his attention to detail. He chops the vegetables into neat, uniform pieces, working the knife deftly as the familiar sound of a knife striking a cutting board fills the room. You move onto your final task, bringing some water to a boil and in a separate pot preparing the vegetable stock. 

“Thank you for all your help. You go relax, I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” Rabbit says. 

You try to convince him to let you stay but truthfully all that’s left is cooking the vegetables and then adding them to the stock. So you return to the living room, sitting down in the plush chair by the fireplace to read a book to pass the time. 

It’s not long before Rabbit calls you to the table for dinner. As you close your book you glance up to the window and notice the deep orange and reds of the sunset outside. You yawn, tired from the long day of work but eager to spend a bit of downtime with Rabbit. 

At the table, the two of you feast on hearty bowls of the fruit of your labors. At first you chalk up the silence at the table to the pace at which both you and Rabbit are devouring the soup. Only once you’re finished do you glance up to see Rabbit starting to doze off. His last spoonful of soup drains back into his bowl as the spoon slips from his grip. He shoots back up after it clangs into the bowl and he promptly apologizes. 

“Sorry… just a little exhausted. Here I’ll clean up and then we can-” You shush him gently while lifting his bowl from the table along with your own. 

“Go lay down, it’ll only take a minute to wash up.” You say. 

Rabbit is too tired to protest, so he takes what feels like the first slow steps of the entire day towards the bedroom. Washing the bowls and pots takes no time at all, but Rabbit tucked himself firmly into bed just as quickly. 

Once he notices you’re in the room though he lifts the blankets and lets you crawl into bed behind him. You hook your arms around the exhausted workbunny and hold him close, nestling your head against his shoulder while he sighs, relaxing at last. The bed only gets warmer as you lay with him. Your body heat joins his, your own tired limbs are finally demanding their rest. 

“I keep wondering how I get you to stick around when Harvest Day comes along. I mean, you could always go off and find Pooh to keep you company…” Rabbit yawns. 

“Are you kidding? There’s no other day when you’re more you, Rabbit. Harvest Day is my favorite day to spend with you.” You assure him while nuzzling his cheek. 

Rabbit turns his body to face you, wearing a tired smile. His black eyes stare into yours before he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips gently to your own. You melt into the soft, brief kiss before he pulls away and yawns, his buck teeth showing for a moment before he pulls you close once again beneath the blankets. 

Your sleepy chatter eventually tapers off to nothing but the slow, rhythmic breathing of Rabbit as the crickets chirp outside the window. You close your eyes, letting Rabbit’s heartbeat and soft, steady breathing lull you to sleep. 

[geisthouse]

"PTOLEMAEA"

Inspired by Ethel Cain's song Ptolemaea and very loosely follows PD's lore.

CW: Violence, Murder

  I watched a bird fly from one side of the window to the other, landing on a thin tree branch, it bobbed slightly under its weight and then balanced out as the bird hopped closer to the base of the tree. 

I stared out the window from the floorbound mattress. He wrapped me in blankets before he left but the attic was more stuffy than drafty so, I ended up pulling them off of me in my sleep.

It had been a few days since we got there, he didn’t want me going outside but I could leave the attic if I needed to. He hid my shoes on the first day and I haven’t had any luck finding them– I suspect they’re in his truck. I was mad at him for taking them from me but, I guessed we’d be on our way out of this state sooner or later and I could have them back.  My stomach grumbled for the second time since I woke up, but sleep weighed so heavily on my body that I just couldn’t get out of bed. He kept me up half the night ranting about how his business here was taking too long to end and we should’ve been out of here a while ago. I tried to calm him down, but I realized I just had to let him get it out of his system.  When he left he said he’d come back with food, though, it had been hours since then. I sat up too quickly and felt woozy— Fuck, I need food. 

I slowly got up but swayed a bit on my feet and lumbered to the ladder. I had been scared of going up and down it, it was creaky, unfinished wood that’s probably been untouched for years. Somehow, I got down without falling and headed to the kitchen.

The fridge was empty except for a stack of American cheese slices, lunch meat, and two six-packs of beer. I pulled a can from the ring and took the ham and cheese from the shelf. The bread was on the counter and I grabbed one of the three plates from the cabinet. The kitchen was joined with the living room and there were two windows on either side of the wall and a fireplace built into the wall. This would’ve been a nice place for an average person to live if it wasn’t so removed. I made my sandwich, grabbed my beer, and headed out of the kitchen. 

Back upstairs, I sat on the mattress and ate. The attic was a fair size, there was a big dark wooden dresser next to the head of the mattress, and boxes were stacked against the wall closest to the far window. My attic back home was around the same size but it was filled to the brim with my grandmother’s old stuff. My mother never had the time to go through it and the rest of the family (the ones that talked to us, anyway) didn’t think she had anything precious to take. I used to go up there and rifle through her old letters, clothes, and jewelry. I stole one of her lockets when I was about twelve and my father yelled at me for wearing it but, when he died, I wore it to his funeral and every day afterward.

During our stay here, we littered the ground with pill bottles, take-out containers, cigarette butts— all of that bullshit. I realized I didn’t know what time it was. I judged by the shadows on the ground that it would have been around mid-afternoon, the fact that I hadn’t been sure put me on edge. 

I finished my sandwich and put the plate on the floor. I stood, walked to the window, and looked out of it, down at the ground. The tree mostly obscured it, but the sliver of the world I could see wasn’t much of anything: dirt and patches of grass led to a larger woodland. I sighed, leaning my forehead against the glass, it was cool on my skin— a fairly pleasant sensation. My eyes trailed down to the hardwood floor; maybe I’ll go back to sleep. There was a stray pill bottle at my feet, separate from the others in the pile across the room. The label was ripped off but whatever it said before probably wasn’t what was in there anymore. I plucked it from the ground and it gave a low rattle as I opened it. A few pills were left in there, all uniform: white and ovalish. I poured two out and I took it— whatever it was— and washed it down with the rest of the beer. I closed the cap and lay back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling until I drifted off again.

I woke up to the sound of shuffling. He was back. The sun had almost completely set but the remnants of fading blue light would hold on for at least another couple of minutes. I rolled over in bed to see what he was doing; the light coming from the stairs below was just enough to illuminate him, he was looking through one of the boxes.

“Goddammit!” He threw something back into the box.

I shot right up, fighting the fact that my head was spinning,  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He jerked at the sound of my voice but waved me off seconds later, “It’s nothing.”

I put my head in my lap to recoup, “It’s dark out,” I said looking back up, “Where have you been all day?”

“You ask too many questions, you know that?”

“I was just making conversation.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Fine.” I groped in the dark for the little lamp I plugged in at the foot of the bed. My hands found the embossed brass base and clicked it on. I could see his face now, he looked…different. Harsher. Something was behind his eyes and it made him even more guarded than usual. He loomed at the other end of the room, glaring at me. I sank into myself, pulling my knees up to my chest. His frown deepened and his expression turned to obvious anger. He stepped forward. 

“I thought I told you not to go outside.”

“You did…”

“So why’d you do it?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Your feet are dirty.”

I checked the soles of my feet and they were blackened with grime, “My feet are dirty because the floor is dirty.” 

“You’re such a little liar! You could mess up this whole plan– our plan, remember?” He pointed at me, “You’re considered a missing person, they’re saying I kidnapped you– do you want me to go to jail?”

“No, I don’t! Even if I did go out, we’re in the middle of the woods, there’s no one around more miles!”

“Get up.” He demanded.

“What?”

“Stand up.”

I scrambled to my feet, he closed the gap between us and got up in my face. His forehead was uncomfortably sweaty and his pupils were dilated like saucers. I tried softening my tone, “Hey, maybe you should lay down, you don’t look–”

“No,” he lowered his voice but kept the same intensity, “If you wanna leave so bad then do it.”

“What?”

“Do it. Run. Run back to your mama and your piece of shit town where they can laugh and beat the shit out of you for being a fucking freak. I accepted you, I wanted you to come with me because I knew you wouldn’t survive there!”

I could only stutter, trying to tell him that I didn’t want to go. 

“Run, or I’ll fucking kill you!” He yelled, pushing me back onto the mattress. I didn’t know if he was serious or not and I didn’t want to find out. I bolted back up and rushed to the ladder behind him. I didn’t know how I climbed down that thing so fast but I hit the floor in no time and started down the other set of stairs. 

That’s when I heard him following me.

He was shouting my name along with every epithet he could call me. I stumbled to the kitchen in hopes of finding his keys. I thanked God for the first time in a while because there they were sitting on the countertop. I grabbed them and headed in the opposite direction towards the door. 

He was at the bottom of the stairs. I undid the deadbolt and the lock and swung open the door. The cool night breeze cut through me and I felt a swell of ecstasy, but it came as soon as it went, his truck wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It was dead black out there at night and he usually parked in front of the door just in case we had to make a quick exit. I was about to book it to the road on the slim chance I’d run into another car, but I felt his big arms wrap around my middle and hoist me up. I started to scream and I couldn’t stop. I dropped the keys on the porch as he dragged me back inside.

I wriggled in his grasp as he carried me into the kitchen. He let go suddenly and I dropped to the floor with a hard thud. I struggled back up and tried to run passed him but he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me to the ground. Before I could get up again, he knelt over top of me, ‘Stay down’ he kept saying. I thrashed and kicked but he got my arms under him. I whined out a series of ‘Please’, ‘Don’t do this’, and ‘I love you’. He barked at me to shut up and, when I wouldn’t, he put his hands around my neck. I pleaded with him but he squeezed his hands tight. I couldn’t breathe– I couldn’t speak– I couldn’t think. It couldn’t have been for more than two minutes but it felt truly infinite.  

And then, he let up. He took all of his weight off me and got up from the floor. The sudden rush of air and lightness was a shock to my system; I knew I needed to move but my body and my brain weren’t working in tandem anymore. He wasn’t far away, I heard drawers open and shut. I was able to sit up on my elbows but the clanging stopped and his shadow bore over me. I braced myself to look up– he gripped a kitchen knife. I screamed no and he dropped back to his knees, held me to the floor, and thrust the knife down.

It pierced my stomach. The obtrusion stung– almost burned. He left it there for a moment as if he was unsure of what he was doing. 

There is a knife in me. 

He tightened his grip on it and pulled it out; blood came with it. I groaned. He brought it up…and down again. Warm blood filled my throat and mouth and I spewed it out. I couldn’t lift my head. I felt the knife everywhere on my torso, and then the feeling faded away– it stopped at some point but I didn’t know when. Either way, it was done, I wasn’t breathing, I was still, I was dead. My eyes, however, were open. The ceiling and part of the counter was all there was for me. 

An hour passed and nothing else happened.

He reappeared over me, covered in blood from his face to his shirt. He had a ghastly look on his face. He kneeled to the ground and was struggling with something around me. He pulled off my shirt and did the same with my jeans and underwear. He left and took my clothes with him. And, again, that was it for a while. 

The next time he came back, he looked considerably filthier. His nails were caked in black dirt and there was a large patch of sweat on the front of his shirt. He lifted me and brought me outside. 

There was a fire going, orange light flickered off the trees, making living shadows on the ground. He put me down a ways away from the flame, my head lolled to the side, facing it. There was a shovel lodged in the ground next to a pile of dirt. He picked up my clothes which were lying in a heap on the ground and tossed them into the fire. He watched them burn.

He didn’t notice my eyes on him. 

He pulled up the shovel and began to dig again however, gave up after a short while. 

He came to me, gawking like he noticed something strange. He moved his hand just below my collar and tore my locket from me, examining then pocketing it.

He took me up and placed me in my grave. The sun was starting to come up, it was as blue-gray as the sunset before. He began to shovel dirt over me, all without closing my eyes.

[thefreakymunson]

Could you do like, Eddie x reader where they're fighting over something small and to end the fight Eddie just says “You were made to be kissed, often and well.”? ily

You glared at him over the bar in the kitchen, watching as he made a mess of everything you had just cleaned up. He pulled the spices out of the cabinet as he seasoned whatever it was that he was cooking and didn’t even offer to put them back once he was done. Instead, he turned the burner off, plated his food, and left the pan on the stove.

“What are you staring at me like that for?” Eddie asked, fork in his mouth as he carried his plate.

“Eddie, I just cleaned that all up,” you sighed, throwing the rag down on the bar as you crossed your arms.

“And? I’ll clean it back up when I’m done. I’m starving, Y/N.” Eddie mumbled, sitting down at the table with his plate.

“I told you I was going to make dinner in just a little bit,” you sighed.

“Babe, I just finished working on the van all damned day. I couldn’t think straight because of my stomach growling.” He sighed, watching as you walked over to where he had left the spices out, “I said I’d clean it up-”

“Eddie, stop.” You sighed, picking the spice jars up and placing them back in the cabinet, “I’ve got it.”

“Fuckin’ christ,” he snorted, “Always got to be the control freak, huh?”

You stared up at him in slight shock. He knew you struggled with wanting to keep everything tidy, your OCD kicking in strong when it came to cleanliness and tidiness of the house. He never ever dared say anything about it. Normally he tried his hardest to help you keep up with the chores and keep everything tidy.

“Control freak?” You asked, tears welling up in your eyes as you scoffed, “Wow. Thanks, Eddie.”

“Babe-”

“Leave me alone,” you said, storming off through the house, ignoring his calls.

Eddie groaned in frustration, flopping back down in the chair as he heard the bedroom door slam shut. Just his luck. His van wouldn’t start and now his woman was mad at him. He had really been having such a great day.

You weren’t sure how long you had stayed in the bedroom, trying to cool off. Eddie didn’t breach the unspoken barrier of your shared bedroom and you didn’t leave the comfort of it. Things weren’t messy in here. Things were nice and clean and not covered in spice jars.

“Y/N?” you heard Eddie’s voice coming from the otherside of the door. He tried to open it, but you had locked it out of spite. You were quiet as the handle rattled and he sighed in defeat, “Y/N...baby...I’m sorry.”

You didn’t move – didn’t even attempt to move until you heard him speak again.

“Please let me in,” He said, a slight thump apparent as he laid his forehead against the door, “Look, today’s been shitty. I’m sorry. I – I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re not a control freak, doll.”

“You hurt my feelings,” you said, sitting on the side of the bed, “I wasn’t trying to control anything...I just wanted it to be clean.”

“I know that,” he said, voice muffled, “I know that and I’m so sorry, baby...just unlock the door, yeah?”

You sat there a moment, trying to decide whether or not to do as he asked when he spoke again.

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s been like two hours...I miss you.” His voice was soft – a careful balance between gentle and apologetic. You could almost see the pout on his pink lips.

When you unlocked the door, he pulled you against him, ringed fingers threading through your hair as he cradled your head against his chest, soft warm lips pressing against your forehead.

“There’s my girl,” he said, feeling your arms wrap around his waist and pull him in tighter.

He cupped your chin, bending his head down to nuzzle against yours, forcing your head back as he pressed his lips against yours. Anger and humiliation washed away as his mouth danced against yours, so much love and emotion packed into it.

“I’m sorr-” you were cut off by another kiss, his hand coming to rest on the side of your cheek.

“Don’t talk,” he whispered, “Just let me kiss you like you were made to be kissed, yeah?”

“And how’s that?” You mumbled.

“Often and well, love.” He whispered before moving in for another smooch.

[kitashousewife]

that’s the way my heart feels

an: this is my first entry for @kitsunekanojo event Too Much To Dream !! congrats milo on your milestone and thank you so much for letting me enter!! this fic is based on the song Pancakes by LANY

pairing: yuta x fem!reader

warnings: food mention & eating, pet names, all characters aged up, fluff, lowercase intentional

-

the floor creaks under your bare feet, each step taken in the kitchen creating its own unique sound. the cabinets join in the song, squeaking and shutting with a thud. cracked eggs, milk being poured, and the whisk rattling in the mixing bowl join into the melody. making your lover breakfast is the least you could do for him.

well, breakfast at 2:07 am.

while, it’s technically morning, this still counts as breakfast to the two of you. a few minutes ago, right as you were about to head to bed, your phone rang. yuta’s voice came through the other end, exhausted but sweet. he had been gone on a mission for a few days, heading out to take care of a low-grade curse that he was using to train some students. to everyone’s dismay, the curse was a bit harder to fight than expected.

“i miss you so much, my love,” yuta sighs, yawn barely audible.

“i miss you too. are you hungry? i could make you something if you would like,” you ask, knowing full well he probably hasn’t eaten much since he left earlier this week.

“that would be amazing, but don’t fuss too much. i’m fine with anything,” his voice is soft, the sound of the turn signal clicks in the background. “i’ll be home in less than 10 minutes and i cannot wait to see you!”

a bright smile pulls at your lips. skipping into the kitchen, full of excitement, you get ready to make yuta the best meal he’s ever had in his life. except there is just one problem: you never went to the store.

listen, this week was tough. you decided to pick up a few more shifts to distract yourself while he was gone, which worked, except you got a bit too distracted. looking at the stove, you check the clock and feel a bit more pressure. he should be home in just a few minutes. thankfully, you remembered the pancake mix you kept in the pantry for situations like this.

it isn’t glamorous by any means, but it will have to do. grabbing a scoop, you pour some of the batter into the pan, watching the ribbons form into a rounded shape. the sound of keys and familiar footsteps pull your attention away from the now bubbling circle.

“hello, sweet wife,” yuta pulls you into a warm embrace, soft black hair tickling your neck. giggling, you pull back to look him in the eye. you notice the dark circles under his eyes and begin to worry. noticing your concern, he tips your chin up towards him.

“gimme a kiss,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling you closer to him. his lips are soft, slightly chapped from the dry air. pulling away, he inhaled and closes his eyes.

“that smells incredible, what did you make?” yuta turns around, hanging his belongings on the hooks near your door, locking up as he goes.

“pancakes, it’s all we had. i hope that’s okay,” you flip the first few, grabbing plates for the two of you.

“i appreciate anything sweetheart. thank you for being willing to cook for me this late,” he gives you a warm smile as he opens up the fridge.

yuta knows how tough this is on you. his trips have been more and more frequent, leaving you alone more than a newly married wife should. he feels terrible, his heart sinking every time he gets asked to go on missions, knowing he has to leave you behind. he hates bringing it up, feeling guilty for being gone so much. you are always quick to get rid of those feelings, assuring him that it’s okay, i’ll be fine. you know that he is needed, he’s one of the strongest after all.

grabbing the butter dish from the shelf, yuta gets an idea. yes, it’s late, but the unopened bottle of champagne he got as a thank you from the last mission is calling his name.

with a plate in your hand, you stack three pancakes up high for your very hungry husband. fluffy and warm, just the way he likes. grabbing some for yourself, you set the plates on the island for the two of you to enjoy.

right behind you, yuta grabs the champagne flutes the two of you got engraved for your wedding, ever so carefully, and sets them down next to your plates. the pop of a cork startled you, and you whip around to see him standing over the sink, letting the excesses drip.

“what’s the occasion?” you laugh, sitting down on a barstool and watching with delight as he fills your glass.

“we don’t need one!” he beams, topping off his own glass. “but, i guess we should toast to something,” he hums. grabbing the stem of your glass, you hold it up towards his. he clears his throat dramatically, as if beginning a grand toast.

“here’s to my lovely wife, who deserves the biggest celebration in the world!”

the clink of your glasses fills the room, followed by the pop of the syrup cap.

“if anything we should be toasting to you,” you take a sip of your glass. “you’re the one who fought curses for days and won.”

cutting a new piece of his pancake, yuta shakes his head. “i wouldn’t be able to do it without you, though. that would be impossible.” he says and grabs your hand, holding it in his as he plays with the diamond sitting on your finger.

the next 40 minute is full of stories, funny moments, and details of his trip. you listen to every word, eyes not leaving his as you fumble with your fork, half-hazardly stabbing pieces of pancake. everything is so interesting, the techniques his students are learning are just incredible. you can tell how proud he is by the wide smile he has on his face as he recounts the events.

the two of you make quick work cleaning everything up. yuta gets distracted, though. he missed you, even more than last time. your voice, your laugh, your kisses, your hugs. everything about you is so perfect to him. the way you’re willing to drop everything you’re doing, when you’re tired as well, just to make pancakes at 2 am in jeans and a t shirt for him when he gets home.

walking side by side down the hallway, he wraps his arm around you and slips his hand into your back pocket.

“i missed you so much. did i mention that?”

the bedroom door swings open, causing yuta to groan with relief. besides seeing you, he was also very excited to sleep in his own bed.

you hum, grabbing your own pajamas to change into. “i don’t think so, but i would love to hear everything you missed about me, just out of curiosity.”

he chuckles, tucking you in under the covers. “i missed your pretty hair,” he mumbles, planting a kiss to your head. “i missed your beautiful face,” he whispers, leaving a soft kiss to your lips. “i missed your cute laugh and smile,” and you smile in return, sleepy eyes looking up at him as rubs his thumb across your cheeks.

“i love you so much, my wife.” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek. your eyes flutter shut as he turns off the lamp on your side of the bed. he feels so grateful, so full of love and adoration for you. he could not be prouder of you for working so hard, and is so thankful that you are so selfless. he feels like the luckiest man in the entire world.

he feels lucky to love you. he is overwhelmed with gratitude for the life he gets to spend with you. yuta feels so needed, so wanted, and so appreciated.

as the clock blinks 3:14 am, the exhaustion he had felt beings to take over. closing his eyes, he falls asleep with a smile, on cloud nine with you as his wife.