#there's a cupboard drawer that's Only Teas

[bogkeep]

I HAVE DONE IT. MY JOURNEY IS AT ITS END

my friends gifted me these funky rock prints!!!! love to change things up a bit

can i power of friendship my way through the rest of this

[nonranghaes]

"my love? we need to talk."

minghao's standing in your kitchen when you call out to him, making himself a cup of tea. one of his mugs sits securely in your cupboard among others like it, a box of tea sitting on the countertop next to him. he keeps telling himself he'll get you all the proper things so that he can make himself (and you) other blends, but he hasn't gotten around to it quite yet. he glances up just once to see you coming, dressed cozily in mismatched sweats after a long day at work.

and, for a moment, he's worried. "did i do something wrong?" he pauses for a moment, glancing down at the mug in front of him. "... would you like a cup?"

you shake your head, leaning against the countertop. "my closet's getting emptier."

he furrows his brow. "hm?"

with a knowing smile, you reach out, tugging at the collar of the sweatshirt he's wearing. it matches your sweatpants perfectly, now that he's actually thinking about it. "and i think i know where my clothes are ending up, because your drawer stopped being just a drawer months ago."

minghao happens to glance around your apartment for a moment, suddenly aware of the little things. his mugs in your cupboard were only the start of it. he sees the little herb garden he has set up for you in a window, his neat handwriting standing out on the tape he stuck to the spray bottle you use to water them. two of his longer coats have found home on your coat rack alongside several of his scarves, which is now suspiciously bare of the other jacket you used to wear. one of his cardigans is still draped over a chair. there's wine glasses on the drying rack, a bottle sitting on the counter nearby from when he brought over a bottle he thought you'd love. the blanket on the back of the couch that fits your apartment more than it did his own, the fact he has several pairs of shoes here now...

"feels like you're nesting here, my pretty bird," you say with this amused glimmer in your eyes. "and i think... maybe you should start packing up your old place."

he doesn't answer you. he knows what you're asking, but minghao's not the man who will always let you get away with hiding the big questions like this. he just teases you instead, smiling, "is that a threat? should i be worried about mingyu?"

you just roll your eyes, taking a step toward him so that you can kiss him. "move in with me already," you say when you break away. "you practically already have."

and you're right. but he won't say it out loud: he just kisses you, hands cupping your face. "i thought you'd never ask."

[yan-maid-cafe]

Yandere Sorcerer

Imagine "falling" for a yandere sorcerer...

You had met Aod years ago, the owner of a local magic shop. Considered a master of many fields ranging from runes to potionology to even astrology. He was a unique man to say the least. One day while you were in there to buy some more Wolf's Bane, he awkwardly asked you on a date. Something you happily accepted.

When reaching the cafe the next day, he handed you a box of homemade chocolates urging you to try one. Feeling the sweet treat melt on your tongue, it was the best chocolate you had ever eaten. And the date just kept getting better from there. It felt like love at first sight, as if you two were made for eachother.

Your relationship moved fast, faster than anybody in the village had seen. Within a month you both had already moved in together, and a month after that you were already considering marriage. People would occassionly come to talk to you, saying things were moving too fast and that maybe you should slow down. But you never listened, why would you? The world has been so much brighter ever since you and Aod started dating. You never wanted this to end.

He was the perfect fiancee. Providing for you, caring for you, loving you more than anything. What more could you ask for? Who cares if things were moving fast, that's just how in love you two were.

Though one day you were left sick in bed, coming down with some kind of stomach bug. You remained in bed in order to heal. Aod walked into your shared bedroom, holding a teacup in his hand, the tea he would brew for you every morning. Placing the tea on the side table, insisting you to drink it even if you could barely keep anything down, saying that it would make you feel better. Refusing to leave the room until you drank the entire cup. Once you had done as told, he gave you his usual kind smile before turning around and leaving the room.

You lied in bed for what felt like hours before your stomach lurched around inside of you, causing you to need to grab the bucket beside your bed. Upon emptying your stomach into it, you were shocked to see what was inside. It was the usual digusting greens and yellows you would expect. But there was also large blotches of bright pink within it, dropping the bucket on the ground in shock as you tried to stand up from the bed. You legs shaking beneath you as you broke out in a cold sweat. Your heart was beating a mile a minutes as it felt like the room was losing the color it once had. Your only thought...

Where the Hell were you...

It felt like the past few months were a blur, the last thing you remember clearly was arriving for your first ever date with Aod. Everything else was a blurry mess. You were left with a feeling of terror as you walked out of the bedroom, trying to reach the front door. Something deep in your mind was screaming at you to get out before Aod came, to get out and get help before he returned.

Though before you reached the front door a firm hand grabbed hold of your shoulder, a familiar voice sounded out behind you.

"Dear, what are you doing out of bed?"

It was Aod. You tried to pry yourself out of his grip and scream for help but he quickly pulled you into his chest, covering your mouth with his hand. He tried to talk to you but all it took was a single look in your eyes for his gentle gaze to change into one of frustration. He kept a hand over your mouth as he dragged you further into the house. Easily overpowering your struggles as he forced you into his office, locking the door behind you both.

Dragging you towards a large cupboard, Aod opened one of the drawers revealing countless bottles of the same bright pink concoction you had just expelled from your stomach. He brought one of the bottles to your lips and upon having to fight you, he began to pry your mouth open with his hand. Now pouring the sweet tasting mixture into your mouth, forcing it down your throat.

It only took a few minutes for the room around you to become blurry again, as if your brain was going numb. The color returned to your surroundings as Aod pulled you into his chest, gently stroking your head with a soft smile. His voice gentle as he whispered into your ear.

"Don't worry, it's okay now Dear. You just got a little restless there for a second."

His smile spread as he nuzzled his face into your neck, speaking in a voice dripping with obsession. Looking down at the ring on your finger.

"I've been thinking. We should get married as soon as possible and finally leave this backwards town. It will finally just be you and me. Would you like that Hun?"

You looked up at him with glassy eyes, a loving smile on your lips as you nodded without a thought. After all, what was so wrong with that? Aod was the best fiancee you could have asked for...

[luveline]

Hiii if ur not sick of the fainting requests yet would love on for our bf remus <3

and thank uuu for all ur writing and time <3

thank u sm lovely ♡ fem!reader, 1.1k

cw blood + fainting

"No! That's not what happened, and you know it isn't," Remus says with a laugh big enough to shake his shoulders.

The stomach of his t-shirt is dark with water, splattered by the colander as he rinses the celery he's sliced. 

"It is what happened," you say, peeling the lid back from your plastic container of hummus. "You have a selective memory, Remus." 

He tips the clean celery into a bowl atop carrots shining with wet, his disagreement obvious and entertaining. James did help Remus ask you out the first time, but Remus might not remember it because it was largely done behind his head, James mouthing clearly, My friend thinks you're stunning. 

"Did you cut up any green apples?" you ask. 

They're James' favourite. Tonight, you and Remus are celebrating five months as a couple, but you hadn't realised movie night (pre-negotiated) was the same day until a half hour ago, hence your rushed preparations. You wouldn't be here to celebrate if it weren't for James. He deserves them. 

Having to rush hasn't put a damper on how happy you both are. "No," Remus says, clasping your hand loosely on the way to the fridge. "Did you want to get changed?" 

"We have," —you check your watch, eyes flaring— "about eight minutes until six. Plenty of time." 

Remus laughs at your joking and takes three apples from the fruit and vegetable drawer. You slide in the fridge behind him to eye your drinks selection and start to fret. "You know, I'm gonna put my shoes on and nip to the Spar. We don't have any coke zero for Sirius–" 

"He can get his own coke zero." 

"Then what's the point of hosting? It's only across the road." 

The sound of Remus peeling an apple follows you down the hallway, a quick shush shush shush. You put your fingers at the back of your converse as a makeshift shoe horn and force your foot into it to save time. Your fingertips hurt afterward, but you're ready in less than a minute. Your purse in your back pocket, you shout, "Did you want anything?" 

"Not that I can think– Ow." A sharp hiss. "Fuck." 

You walk briskly back to the kitchen. "What?" 

Remus turns to you with blood dribbling down his arm and you can't remember a thing after that. 

— 

"You've murdered her?" Sirius asks, staring down at Remus with wide-eyed surprise. "I thought you were getting on well." 

"Can you help, please?" he asks. He's using his t-shirt to stem the frankly worrying amount of blood that drips from his cut finger, the pain a stinging but luckily bearable constant. Remus is more concerned by your limp weight in his lap. He's dripped blood onto your sleeve. It's a mess. 

Sirius shoves his bag on the kitchen table and sits down on the floor, easing your head from Remus lap and into his own. "Mate, what the fuck happened?" 

"She fainted when she saw the blood." 

"I thought that only happened on telly?" 

"It's quite real," Remus says, standing up to take care of things. "Can you give her a little shake? I tried tapping her cheek but she didn't feel it." 

Sirius pokes at your eyelids. Remus hates that he's had to relinquish what's clearly a boyfriend duty, but he imagines that if the blood shocked you that badly the first time, it'll get you a second. He's lucky he managed to grab you under the arms before you smashed your head open. 

He washes his arms clean in the sink and wraps a tea towel around his thumb. Swift, he reaches for the first aid kit on top of the cupboard and opens it one handed over the stove top. He puts a plaster on his cut, then a second, like a hat. 

Fully covered, Remus turns around and sighs. There's blood like a spattering of concentrated rain in a line to your prone body. 

Sirius continues to poke at you like a science experiment, but he isn't mean. "Helloooo," he sing-songs, blowing air in your ear. You jump and your eyelashes flutter, and for once, Remus can endorse his friend's antagonising. 

"Hey, there you are," Remus says, kneeling by your head. He helps you up from Sirius thigh, angling your gaze to the hallway rather than the bloody kitchen. "That's never happened before. Do you usually do that?" 

"Do what?" you ask, blinking like you've weights sewn into your eyelids. 

"You fainted," Sirius interjects. "Keep your eyes on Moony, doll. I'll clean up this mess. Consider it my charity for the year." 

"What?" you ask, trying to look around Remus. 

He takes your face into his hands, drawing your gaze. "Do you feel okay? Haven't bruised anything?" 

"No?" 

He nods, relieved. "Come on, lovely. Let's sit you on the sofa." 

Remus helps you stand and directs you into your living room. It's beautifully clean awaiting company, giving you ample room to lay down again. You don't complain aloud but Remus can tell you're feeling weird still from the way you frown, your bottom lip pouted ever so slightly. He perches on the end of the seat. 

"What the fuck, where are the dish cloths?" Sirius asks himself. 

You laugh into your shoulder, the sound like a beacon. Remus knows you'll be alright, but he'd quite like to hammer it home. He puts his hand on your forehead to stroke along your hairline with his uninjured thumb. 

"Are you okay?" you ask. 

"I'm fine, you're the one who almost broke her neck," he says, the tip of his pinky racing down your cheek to your chin. He tilts your head up. "Since when do you faint at the sight of blood? Bit dramatic." 

"I don't know. Never happened before. Since when do you cut yourself with a seventy pence peeler? That's ridiculous." 

He presses his smile into your lips. "You weren't supervising me." 

"It's my fault, then. Typical." 

Remus kisses you, the corner of your mouth, your cheek. A loving line. You relax under his touch, laughing softly at his tickling stubble. He pulls away as the front door clatters in, but whoever it is ignores the living room completely, bursting into your kitchen. 

"Sirius, what have you done, mate?" James asks, plastic bags rustling. 

"I don't want to talk about it. Why's it always me on my knees? Not like that." 

[jolalibrary]

home and the ghost mug

simon “ghost” riley x reader (cod)

this is unedited, and born from a random thought as I put away dishes and cleaned my kitchen at 1am. warnings: none. themes: fluff, cute mug moment, ghost and a non-military partner. just toothrotting 1am thoughts.

you don’t like to think you live alone, but you know you spend more time waiting, than you have with him.

this time it’s been months. the last contact weeks ago. it’s normal, but it doesn’t lessen the frustration you feel—or how it balls and clumps with worry.

you know you signed on to this. married yourself to the wondering and standing by when you bought the house with him. it’s why you’ve perfected the art of keeping busy, remaining distracted.

today, your mind slips. falls down on the job, scrapes the skin from your knees and bruises your heart. thoughts appearing, the faint sound of his gruff voice echoing in the walls. unable to unsee the shadow of his last time here—how broad he appears in your door frames.

it’s the slip up that means you unconsciously make a tea for yourself in his mug. a no-go, a thing you never do. the cup sacred, forever off limits unless he’s here. the one you’d bought as a joke, wrapped it in paper and watched him stare at it when he unveiled the skull on the side with the bone handle.

“this bought for me?”

“well, it’s not for next door, simon.”

suddenly, you don’t fancy tea. your heart aching, all heavy and downtrodden in your chest. so you pour it away, washing it out and putting it away quickly. because you know it’ll sting seeing it on the drainer in the morning. practically punch you in the gut—because your mind will trick itself into thinking he’s home. that he’s back. for whatever time he can spare.

by the time his car pulls onto the drive, the house is coated in darkness. the moon full, high in the sky. shimmering a luminescent glow on everything and anything it can touch.

you must be tired, shattered. no murmur of his name or quickened footsteps when he slides his key on the lock, when he takes his boots off. he does do it with precision, care—almost mouse like for a man that’s more mountain than man. shoving them away in the contraption you bought sometime between the two of you moving in and him coming back to you.

and because the house is quiet, silent. a pin being dropped sounding like a shout, he begins his routine. the one where he shoves the things away he doesn’t need to have. not needing reminders of what he does as ghost when he’s trying to focus on being simon.

his routine concludes with a shower in the downstairs guest bathroom, watching the places he’s just been slide down the plug hole, all out of sight, out of mind. you know this routine, keeping some of his casual clothes—sweats and tees in a drawer, for moments like this.

even if he should expect it by now, he still smiles as your genuineness. your kindness. the one that comes ti you with ease.

it’s why he craves being next to you, being able to hear your breaths—close his eyes and allow the evidence to bury the niggling worries he amasses when he’s not with you.

but, joining you isn’t possible. discovering you star-fished, snoring lightly—one of his t-shirts covering and concealing you. practically burying you. and so he closes the door, heads back downstairs. running a hand over the back of his head, feeling clumps of long and short hair from his bad diy cut you’ll undoubtedly have things to say about.

but it isn’t until he’s walking past the kitchen, does he notice the mug and glass cupboard ajar. a thought appearing, his hand retrieving his mug and placing it on the side. a sign, he hopes—a bold exclamation that he is home, in case you wake before him.

you don’t wake before him. simon and fucked up body clock, as usual, wakes at the first break of sunlight. only rising from the guest bed when he hears the floorboards above. your feet eventually coming down the staircase, all slow and heavy, his mind imagining you rubbing your eyes, softly sighing at another day.

he waits in the doorway—the one connecting the guest bedroom to the kitchen—watching you come to a standstill, eyes blinking as you stare at the mug.

simon doesn’t know the error you made yesterday, that you’re going through a crisis of whether you’d put it away or not. whether you’d lost your mind from missing him so much.

he just knows you’re not reacting. not whispering, never mind shouting his name. so he clears his throat, loud, purposeful.

and your head spins—he’s even pretty sure he hears it crack—and then the reaction he expected lands.

it erupts over your face. an explosion of confusion and joy, tear-filled eyes and a large smile, before you’re in his arms, face buried against his chest as he feels you shake with sobs he hopes are because you’re happy.

“take it you’re happy i’m home?”

“more than you think.”

his chin comes to rest on the top of your head, fingers stroking up and down your back.

the mug becomes a sign, a beacon.

it only ever used to indicate he was home—a trophy that remains on the side, until he gets the call that he has to go.

then he is the one to put it away, hating how he turns to always find your lips being chewed by your teeth.

“it’ll be back out before you know it.”

“it better be.”

simon doesn’t promise. because he knows—as do you—that there’s none he can keep in the games he plays. he comforts you without words, his mouth slanted over yours.

I’ll always fight to get home to you.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Hauntingly Yours - Han Jisung

MINORS DNI 18+ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: ghost! Han x fem! reader

summary: You signed the lease to a brand new apartment and now you're on your own again. You sure didn't miss single life but some creepy noises at 3am suggest you're not alone in your new place.

warnings: angst, nipple play, temperature play, paranormal intercourse(?)

“All houses wherein men have lived and died; Are haunted houses. Through the open doors; The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors.”

You lifted the last box off the moving truck and made your way inside. The landlord failed to mention the creaking stairs and the rotting wood bannister that wobbled when you held onto it. He had told you the wooden floors were all original, as were the windows. The house was built in the late 1800s and you had rented out the top floor. You asked him who would be renting out the floor below you and his face went cold. You remembered that look from your childhood. Kids would give you that cold, uneasy stare when you told them about the figures you saw in the night. You don't talk about that stuff anymore.

“No one will be living downstairs, miss. Not anymore.” The landlord said firmly. And that was that. No more questions, no more answers.

You grunted and groaned as you lifted the last box up the stairs to your new bedroom. You set the box down on the floor and collapsed into the bed. Your eyes stared at the ceiling. Peeling white paint and water stains scattered above you. You couldn't explain why you were so drawn to this place, this house. Your mom had practically begged you not to sign the lease. She said she got a bad feeling about this place. But you didn't get a bad feeling. You felt strangely comforted, oddly at peace.

That night, you made yourself comfortable on your new mattress. You made yourself some tea and quickly faded off into sleep. But soon your eyes shot open and a cold rush ran through your body. You sat up in bed and looked around the room. You had that familiar, eerie feeling that you weren't alone.

“Hello…?” You whispered meekly. You held your breath in anticipation of a response but none came.

You sighed deeply and dragged your hands along your face. Get it together! You told yourself. You glanced at the clock on your bedside table to see the flashing numbers Three Oh Three A.M glaring right back at you.

In the morning you padded softly to the kitchen only to find all of the cupboards and drawers flung open.

“What the fuck?!” You hastily shut every cupboard and every drawer. You hadn't bought very many groceries yet so there wasn't much of a mess to clean. For a moment you thought the landlord may have come in and done it. But he had been out of town since he gave you the keys, almost as if he was fleeing the place entirely. Then you had another thought. Your eyes darted around the room, your senses heightened and on edge.

“Listen! If there is anyone here. I live here too now, okay? So we're going to have to learn to…coexist.” You waited. You paused and waited for some kind of sign. A whisper or a knock or something, anything. But just like when you were a child, when you wanted proof of the figures that you saw at nothing, they never showed themselves.

Another night of falling asleep rather quickly. You were never able to fall asleep this easily at your other apartment, but here you drifted off to sleep rather effortlessly. While you slept, a ghostly specter hovered in the corner.

Han had been gone for years. Centuries of watching people move in and out of this house. His family home was now a revolving door of randomly selected people that lived their lives for a year or two then vanished, never to be seen again. Han would watch children grow and couples fight and make up. The whole spectrum of human emotions were displayed for him like a torturous loop in this limbo he found himself in.

But now, Han’s attention was soon completely captured by your beauty as he watched you sleep. He found himself drawn to the warmth and vitality emanating from you, something he hadn't felt in centuries. His ghostly form hovered closer, his ethereal fingers reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. You stir in your sleep. The cold sensation of Han’s touch startling you.

Emboldened by your lack of reaction, Han continued to touch your face, your hair, your arms. The more he touched you, the more he craved physical contact. He leaned in closer, his face hovering just above yours, and pressed his icy lips to yours in a ghostly kiss. He couldn't believe what he was doing. For years he couldn't even hold someone's hand let alone press his lips to theirs. You part your lips and open your mouth to his. Your eyes flutter slightly. Han was stunned and overjoyed as you responded to his kiss, your warm lips moving against his cold ones. He deepened the kiss, pouring centuries of loneliness and longing into it. His arms encircled you, pulling your sleeping form closer as he lost himself in the sensation of your embrace.

Han breaks the kiss as he notices your fluttering eyelashes, fearing that he has awakened you. He searched your face, finding your eyes still closed. He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours.

"You can see me, can't you?” He whispered softly.

Your eyes flutter open slowly as they take in the floating figure above you. Han fixes his eyes on you, fully expecting you to scream or run away. But instead, you sit up and fix your eyes on him as well. You both stare at each other for a moment before you finally break the silence.

“Who are you?”

Han smiles sadly, his hands gently cupping your cheeks. "My name is Han Jisung, I am the gentleman who used to live in this house.” His voice is sure and strong. “I didn't mean to wake you, ma'am. I couldn't resist..." His gaze drops to your parted lips, and he hesitates, torn between desire and guilt.

Han Jisung, you repeat his name like reciting a soft prayer. Han hasn't heard another person speak his name in so long, his heart lingered on every syllable. You ask him how long he's been here and how he died, but his face twists with confusion and frustration.

“I don't remember.” He hisses.

You lightly brush the tips of your fingers along his cheek. Han's eyes search yours, hope flickering in their depths. He shivers at your touch, a ghostly moan escaping his lips. He takes your hand and presses it against his chest, over where his heart used to be.

"I feel so much, being near you. It's like I'm alive again." He brings your hand to his lips and kisses your palm.

You shiver again as Han’s icy kiss penetrates your warm skin. You bring your face slowly to his and part your lips once more, silently inviting another kiss. Han’s mouth descends onto yours, his lips insistent as they claim your own. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entry. His hands roam your body, learning the curves and dips of your form. He is ravenous, desperate to make up for centuries of denied touch and affection. You melt into the touch almost instantly, falling back onto the bed and pulling him on top of you. You feel his hands traveling up and down the sides of your waist, keeping a respectable distance from anything too intimate. You take his hands on yours and bring them to your breasts. Han tears his mouth away from yours, panting heavily. His hands squeeze your breasts, his thumbs rubbing against your nipples through the fabric of your shirt.

"God, I need to touch you. All of you."

Han gently pulls your shirt over your head, revealing your bare breasts to his hungry gaze. He sighs in wonder, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts, the rosy peaks of your nipples. He leans down and captures a nipple in his mouth, suckling gently as his other hand massages your other breast.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, the cool sensation making you arch into his touch. He lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between suckling and laving with his tongue. His hands slide down to your hips, pulling you harder against him. Your mind is lost to the sensations of his hands roaming desperately over your body. You pull at his clothes, your need overpowering any common sense that may be left. He rises above you, his eyes glinting in the dim light. His hands make quick work of the rest of your clothing, leaving you bare beneath him. He unbuttons his own waistcoat and breeches, shedding the century-old clothing.

Han allows you a moment to admire his spectral form, his pale skin seeming to glow in the darkness. He settles between your thighs, his cool flesh a stark contrast to your warmth. He kisses you deeply as he positions himself at your entrance

His eyes flash with desire and tenderness. He enters you slowly, his cool hardness filling you inch by inch. He groans at the sensation, his head falling to your shoulder. "Oh, Miss… you feel divine. You feel like Heaven." He begins to move, his thrusts deep and measured.

Han's pace quickens as you meet his thrusts, your movements driving him to the edge. He buries his face in your neck, his icy breath against your heated skin. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pumps into you. You can feel your orgasm nearing as he continues to piston and stretch inside of you. Your own morality fraying at the seams as you reach your peak and let the sensation of unknown ecstasy consume you. Han lets out a guttural moan, his body tensing as he finds his own release inside of you. He buries his face in your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he shudders with aftershocks.

You lie there together bathed in the moonlight dripping through your bedroom window. You listen close to the sounds of breathing. Han is here with you. And not with you. You hold him flush against you for as long as you can. You're not sure what will happen to your ghostly companion once the sun rises in the morning.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star

[fanaticsnail]

"Can You Buy Me Supplies?"

Masterlist Here

Crack Dialogue

Summary: How the OP characters react to you asking them to purchase you sanitary items for your menstruation period. One sentence dialogue.

Robin, Franky, Chopper, Zoro, Sanji, Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Brook, Kid, Killer, Law, Mihawk, Crocodile, Buggy, Shanks, Beckman, Doflamingo, Corazon.

Notes: this goes out to my afab!readers who experience menstruation. Little HC on how I think they'd react to your request. Enjoy!

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @mfreedomstuff @carrotsunshine @vespidphoenix

Reaching for your Den-Den Mushi shell, you punch the buttons on the back of the receiver to relay your request.

You: "Hey, would you mind if you could get some things for me while you're out? I've just started my period, and I'm out of supplies."

Robin: "Already did, love. I'll also purchase some comfort foods for Sanji to cook for you to get you through it. We'll be back soon!"

Franky: "Super! Absolutely, I can! Did you want anything else while I'm out?"

Chopper: "Sure! I'm also getting flavoured pain relief for you, sugar makes it go down easier. And a bubble boba-tea. You want milky or fruity?"

Zoro: "Didn't you get your period last month? Didn't we get enough of the stuff last time?"

Sanji: "I have prepared soup, a heated blanket, a special sitting space to read by yourself, and I'll pick you up whatever you need. Let me take care of you, my sweet."

Luffy: "Supplies for a period? Like meat? Like a meat period? A period where we're only eating meat?"

Nami: "Hey, we're in sync! I am keen on a night in. Wanna share snacks, books and be in our pajamas for the rest of the day when we get back?"

Usopp: "I think I can do that? It's not intimidating, and I'm not scared at all. But just in case you think I am, would you mind telling me exactly what you need so I don't get it wrong?"

Brook: "Yoo ho ho ho hoo. Absolutely I will."

Eustass Kid: "What size pussy ya got?"

Killer: "Do you want one of each of the sizes? Is there a preference to what type you want? Gotta help me out a bit, here."

Law: "Did you check my office steel cupboard? I've got the back ups in there. Are they the right size, or do you have a preference for a different style? Actually, while you're there, would you mind telling me if we're out of gauze strips and bandages? Do we have enough pain relief?"

Mihawk: "Check the drawer beneath the sink in your ensuite. I resupplied last week in preparation for your upcoming cycle. I also bought wine and dark chocolate. They're in the kitchen if you need them."

Sir Crocodile: "I'll send for some for you. While we wait: would you prefer if I embrace you to give you some body heat for comfort, or leave you alone to grit through the pain?"

Buggy: "Fuck yes, not preggo! Yesssss! Okay, I'm heading out. You want the usual, or do you want me to get you a different style? You know, shake it up for a change? Wanna try one of them cups that keep it all up in there? Hah, would a party popper work?"

Shanks: does not pick up the shell, and shows up the following week as if nothing happened. Beckman, however, sends you a care package with usual supplies with an apology on behalf of his captain's lack of care.

Beckman: "Just the usual, or do you want a weighted heating sack too? I can also pick you up some new pajamas and comfortable socks from the tailor beside the store. Tell me what you need."

Doflamingo: "No. Suffer."

Corazon: does not speak and taps the speaker end of the shell in alphabetised code "You. Want. Tampons. Or. Pads. ?. Can. Also. Get. Pain. Relief. Medication. .. What. Do. You. Need. ?. Do. You. Want. Chocolate. Or. Red. Meat. ?."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

When your shift ends, you leave the shop, heading down the same way you came. You stop at the corner of Mason and think better of going that route. You take that man’s advice and go along Doxtator instead. It’s quieter, there aren’t as many businesses so not as many people loitering and tossing cigarette butts.

You come up to the shared house and enter through the side door as usual. You wouldn’t call it routine yet, you haven’t been there long enough, but a ripple of deja vu comes over you. You keep your head down as you enter the kitchen. As you do, there’s another person in there.

You don’t know if you should say hello. You haven’t seen this man before. He must be one of the others. He pulls a box of rice crackers out of the cupboard and ignores your presence. You follow his lead and don’t say a word as you set your bag on the counter and pull out the drawer. You write your name on the few items you got from the store before you left; a box of cereal, a carton of milk, and some packets of ramen.

You put it all away as the other resident traipses off down the hallway, shuffling footsteps reverberating off the shabby walls. You shut the fridge as you hear the outside door open and shut. As you turn, the other man enters; the big one with the shaggy hair. S as you think of him.

He nods at you as you fold up the paper bag and shove it in the bin. He goes to the cupboard and opens the door. He sighs and takes out the same box of crackers as the last man. He shakes it and tuts. You see then the S marked on the side.

You leave, not wanting to get involved. You feel bad that someone else took his food but you also don’t need the drama. You hate conflict. At least now, you know to watch your things. Maybe later you’ll sneak out and retrieve your ramen so you can preserve a few meals.

You’re not very hungry. Your appetite is sparse these days. Maybe it’s this place. You can’t quite settle in, maybe because you hope it’s only temporary. Yet, you can’t say if that’s because you’re holding onto hope that by some miracle you could go back to your former life or that you might even forge a new one.

You lock the door and turn on the standing lamp. You fold your coat over the metal frame of the bed and sit to untie your shoes and peel off your socks. You change into a loose pair of sweatpants and a plain tea with a Pepsi logo on it. Not your clothes, another set of charity tatters.

You lay down and stare at the wall. You used to have a television in your room. You’d watch the old sitcoms they replayed on the public access channel. Or you’d listen to music and knit something. You had at least a dozen scarves more than you needed. You might be able to afford some needles and yarn after your first pay.

The cone of light casts a low haze through the tight space. Your eyes slowly close as thoughts of shutting off the lamp fade into your subconscious. You’re asleep before you can feel yourself drift off.

🚪

You wake to a strange sound. Your eyes flick open to the yellow lamplight as you lay stiffly on your back. You groan as your cramped muscles tug. You stretch and the bed frame creaks with your movement.

The scratching continues. You’re not surprised. You would expect mice in a place like this. There were some at the shelter too. They mostly left you alone, just skittered by as they searched out crumbs.

It gets louder as you sit up, tilting your head as you try to loosen the knot between your shoulders. You stand slowly, daunted by the pang across your hips. The mattress is thin and you can feel the frame on the other side.

“I know you’re awake, sweetie,” the voice startles you as it slips beneath the door. You stop your arm midreach as you go to click off the lamp. You peek over and see the shadow shift under the door. “Sweetie? I can see your light’s still on, why don’t you open the door?”

You don’t know the voice. It’s pitchy and uneven. The sickening tune behind it makes your stomach wrench. You stay far from the door as the handle jiggles, the deadbolt keeping it from opening.

“Sweetie. I just wanna talk. You don’t have to open the door. Just talk to me…”

You hug yourself and gulp. There were men in the shelter who tried to talk to you, the ones who got too close, who would stand over you while you slept. You were lucky they went away when they were caught.

There’s another shift and the floorboards groan. You hear an odd scuff and see something slide beneath the door slowly. Little by little. It’s a hand mirror, just thin enough to fit. Oh my god.

“Sweetie, I wanna know your na–”

The click of a mechanism and the grind of hinges interrupt your unwanted visitor. The mirror stills and the floor creaks again. You chew your lip as you listen with bated breath.

“Oh, hi,” the same voice greets someone.

“Go,” the deep voice orders gruffly.

“You can’t make me–”

“What are you doing out here?” The other man asks. You recognise S’s timbre.

“N-nothing. I live here too. I can be in the halls,” the strange man responds.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“I wasn’t making noise.”

There’s a pause. Footsteps follow, getting closer, and you hear the squeaky voice utter a ‘no’ as the mirror wiggles slightly then is kicked further inside, scuttling over the floor.

“What the hell?” S growls, “you leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t bothering her–”

“I know what you were doing. I know who you are. What you are. So go before I crush you like the worm you are,” S’s words make even you shrink in fear.

“Ha, you think you deserve her. Because you look like you do,” the other man accuses, “you don’t scare me.”

“I don’t care if I scare you, I’ll break you in half if I see you at her door again,” S sneers and there’s a thump on the door, followed by an ‘oomph’. “Got it?”

“Got… it,” the breathy hiss chokes out, “let me go.”

A sudden scramble of footsteps, as if thrown off balance, clatter across the floor. They continue, quicker and quicker until you can’t hear them. You hear a sniff, then a sigh. A shadow appears at the bottom of the door.

“Hope you’re okay in there,” S says, “I’ll keep an ear out for that creep.” He pauses as if waiting for an answer but you can’t find one past the hammer of your heartbeat, “have a good night.”

The floor groans with his weight as he retreats and his door gently clasps. You can’t move. You lean into the wall and let your legs fold as you slide down onto your bottom. You’ll leave the light on for tonight. You don’t think you can face the dark.

[krisdreaming]

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x gn!reader

WC: 615

Summary: In your first few months of living together, Tetsurou finds himself falling in love with you all over again.

A/N: You were warned. Here it is: my soft domestic Kuroo mess. I don't even know if this is good, but it sure is a thing :')

Tetsurou loves you - of course he does. Otherwise, he never would have asked you to move in with him in the first place. It's just that, over the last few months, he's felt like he's falling all over again.

He thinks it must have something to do with the proximity. The fact that you're always there, at 2pm on a Saturday afternoon or 3am when he wakes up groggy to flop to a more comfortable position or at 7:30 in the evening when the dishes are drying - it does strange things in his chest.

He's always loved your lazy smile, but now he gets to see it first thing in the morning, and it feels like a secret no one else is meant to know. You're sharing it with him, and it makes him want to pull you close and feel the imprint of it on his own lips, so he does. Often. As often as you'll let him, before you're shoving his face away in a bout of laughter, scolding that you'll both be late if you stay in bed any longer.

He feels a little bit like he's spying on you when he catches you in the midst of your daily routine, something as simple as humming to yourself while you fold laundry in the bedroom. He creeps up behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, chuckling at the surprised squeak you let out as he turns you in his arms, fingers pressing into your hips as he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose just because he can. It isn't long until you're tumbled together in his underwear and your socks and the old, worn Nekoma hoodie that belongs to both of you, now.

Sometimes, you surprise him. You'll fall onto the couch after a long day and beckon him closer. Something is playing on the TV, but it's all just background noise as you pull him down against your chest. He lets his weight settle comfortably on top of you and lets out a hum of pure bliss at the feeling of your fingers tugging through his hair. He feels like he's melding into the couch, melding into you, and he catches himself wishing he could stay like this forever, tangled with you so closely that he doesn't even know where he ends and you begin.

There are pieces of you everywhere. Your book is on the end table. Your toothbrush is in the cup next to his. Your favorite tea is in the cupboard and your favorite coffee creamer is in the fridge. There are blankets and throw pillows and your pajamas are in the drawer right beside his. Slowly, you've transformed this space that he simply came back to every night into a place he never wants to leave. He loves being surrounded by you because he finally feels like he's home.

It's not new, but it feels new. It bubbles up in his chest and sloshes around until he feels like he might overflow. Luckily, whenever it comes over him, he doesn't have far to go. He only has to walk a few feet and there you are, and it's so easy to you pull into his arms. So easy to litter kisses on your skin and feel your soft warmth beneath his hands. You tease him about being clingy but he knows you'll never push him away. You love him too much. He says it with a cheeky grin that he quickly buries in the curve of your neck, because if he doesn't the truth will come out. He's the one who loves you too much, if such a thing is even possible.

[bogkeep]

every time i invest in a slightly nice kitchen tool or appliance that increases my quality and joy of life, even if i already had a tool that I Could Be Using But It Sucks In Some Way, it's like wow i really DON'T have to walk on my knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. i CAN let the soft animal of my body love what it loves

[actual-changeling]

there's a human!au in my head that no one asked for but that i am obsessed with because of all the details you can give their breakup that way. give me sad, depressed, fucked-up crowley who is forced to keep living and working and moving all on his own.

crowley coming home to a silent flat for the first time, only one set of keys on top of the hallway drawer, half the coats gone. everything is too open, too quiet, made unfamiliar by the absence of the heart of its familiarity.

there is an empty, abandoned cup of tea on the kitchen counter aziraphale forgot to put away. he stares at it for an hour and then doesn't move it for a week. all the tea cups end up in the same cupboard, hidden from view.

he keeps checking his phone. the lack of notifications, the lack of angel written across his screen, last message sent 6:23 in the morning, one day ago.

out getting breakfast, love you

crowley never texted him back, he called him instead. time keeps moving, the message keeps ageing. when his phone runs out of battery, he doesn't charge it for three days.

the only place he can sleep is in a half-empty bed, clinging to what is left of his presence. he hates sleeping in it. he still does, every single night.

every unfinished book, every discarded note, every piece of evidence that aziraphale had been here, lived here, loved here—he keeps them. out of sight, sometimes, but he keeps them. just in case he comes back. just in case.

he has to, they never opened that bottle of wine they were looking forward to.

(it stares at him from across the kitchen table sometimes, when he cannot sleep or breathe or walk or think, when he sits underneath a single flickering light and looks at it until he goes numb.)

[calummss]

Him & I | Kai Anderson

masterlist

summary: you came to kai like you were an angel sent from god. he finally met his match. you wanted to get revenge and he cleared the path

pairing: fem! reader x kai anderson

words: 2.9k

a/n: kai is everything i despise in a man yet i cannot stop thinking about him. fuck my rights i’ll make you a manwhich like the woman i’m supposed to be NOT PROOFREAD TBH

Gluttony is a sin. So is sloth. Eating an entire bag of chips was not healthy. Sitting on the couch from dawn to dusk, only getting up to relieve yourself, was not good. But who listens to God these days anyways.

knock knock

‘Be right there!’ You yelled, hoping whomever was at the door could hear you and would wait until you had mentally prepared yourself to get up from your nest. You pressed pause of Golden Girls, placed your bag of gluttony on the table and brushed the remaining crumbs on your finger on your back thigh. Thankfully you showered this morning so whomever you greeted wouldn’t be welcomed with the smell of your tiredness. It was just one of those days where doing nothing was the most satisfying for the soul. Keeping the ripples of the sea of stress at bay, hoping that the storm wouldn’t take over.

Through the small peephole of the front door you saw an unfamiliar man with kool aid blue hair in a suit who was swaying his body as he waited to face the owner. ‘Jesus christ,’ you cursed under your breath, letting your hand slide over your face. Not Jehovah witnesses again. You had told them to not come back but when life serves no purpose we mainly cling to the unimportant aspects of life and let small parts become our worst traits.

You opened the door, dropping your droopy expression and replacing it with a hostile smile. Kindness: America’s number one trait making it an aggravating society.

‘Hi,’ you grinned at him, ‘not interested.’

The man blinked at you, wrinkles on his forehead reminding you of the ripples in your soul as he breathed out a laugh. ‘You don’t even know what I was going to say, Ma’am.’

‘Call it my gift.’

‘You must think I’m in some kind of cult,’ he smiled, ‘I can assure you I’m not. My name is Kai Anderson and I was hoping I could talk to you about my plans for this town so I might be able to persuade you into voting for me to become a member of the town council.’

‘Oh.’

‘Can I come in?’

‘I suppose…’ You were unsure but the thought of your pepper spray in the kitchen drawer made you feel safer, in case anything went wrong, so you resorted back to the smile you first gave him. ‘Of course. Come in…?’

‘Kai Anderson.’

‘Right, Kai. Can I call you Kai? I’m Y/n Blythe. You can call me Y/n. Oh my I am rambling,’

Kai came in as you stepped aside to open up the door for him. He kindly took off his shoes. A rule you had but hadn’t seen most Americans do. You looked back at him as you started to head to the kitchen to make sure you wouldn’t lose him. You immediately opened up the cupboard to grab a mug.

‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee would be nice. Black please and thank you.’

‘No problem,’

‘I have to say,’ he placed his folded hands on top of the counter as he watched you get his coffee ready. ‘You are the first person in this neighbourhood to invite me in and to welcome me so kindly.’

You watched him as you grabbed another mug to make yourself a drink too.

‘Most think my ideas are too radical. Too oppressive. Too different. These people preach about change every day but when I give them a chance to vote for change they ignore me.It’s like these people get off on living in his prison courtyard they’ve created.’

‘So what are your goals, Kai?’ You took a sip of your piping hot drink after handing him his own. ‘To strengthen this town’s safety? God forbid this cluster of people need to be…polished.’

Kai’s face somewhat softened. ‘That’s exactly what I said…’

So when Kai talked about his idea you listened. To every word, to every detail. Kai was going to make this town safe again. And for some reason you couldn’t explain, you believed him. Every single word he said to you in the confidence of your own house, you believed.

‘By the hope you don’t mind me saying this but you are so beautiful and I would hate myself for not asking but am I able to take you out to a café this week ‘ He asked, his hazel eyes burning into your soul, making those ripples turn flat as he gazed at you like a had witnessed a deer in the wild. ‘I just, you’re really beautiful and kind and your beliefs about this town have drawn me to you,’ Kai had gaped at you the moment you had opened the door to him. Eyes shining in the sunlight; you looked like an angel. Perhaps an angel God had sent him to. Like he was supposed to find you. For him to find his own angel.

When you went on that date with Kai, it had turned into three more the following two weeks. He mentioned that he had a group of friends that are helping him with the campaign and the more he revealed about it, the closer you got to the truth, at least that is what you thought. It sounded like a cult whenever he rambled on about anything that involved these ‘friends’ and whether or not it was true, it was something you wanted to find out. It took Kai persistent asking and a little push to allow you to ultimately bring you to his house where for some reason you felt weirdly comfortable. The friends or members you came to know were Winter, his sister, Beverly, Ivy, Gary, Samuel, Meadow and Tex, who had been tending to Kai like servants since you had entered his house which instantly confirmed your suspicions. But it didn’t scare you away. A man able to convince the partly smart people had to confirm some sort of high intelligence and if Kai wanted to make you part of his team or not, in your heart you had already made up your mind: you wanted to join. What did you have left to lose? A life? Family? Job? Perhaps.But when does another opportunity like this present itself. To become infatuated with a dangerously powerful man? Never. Maybe you could change him if you truly wanted to but right now, he was perfect. You would become his angel and he’d be your cult leader.

‘Kai,’ you said as you all gathered across the couches, some of their heads tuning your way. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Of course, Y/n. Anything,’

‘Are you guys behind the murders that have been happening?’

Now every head turned your way. You could hear the outside wind blowing through the trees, uneven breaths as you uttered your question. Why was it so shocking? They were the murderers. You knew it and sooner or later someone else would’ve found out.

‘It’s fine if you are. You don’t have to deny it.’ You saidly, letting out a small chuckle. ‘I saw a clown costume stashed on the couch and I saw one of them go into Chang's house.’

You saw Meadow stare at the ground. Must’ve been her. Kai looked back at the costume you had nudged your eyes at and confirmed it was Meadows when he gave her a cold stare she didn’t notice.

‘Why?’ Kai turned his head back to look at you with a weirdly twisted smile that made your stomach churn. ‘Do you like that we kill people? Does that excite you?’

‘Honestly I like it and yes. I mean I was attracted to you before but now I really fucking like you,’

His eyebrows softened as you said your words.

‘Can I come and watch a killing?’

Kai had given the others a look to which they all started moving towards the stairs, further confirming the authority he had over them. In a matter of seconds the basement was empty and his presence within the walls grew dramatically. Like smoke he expanded into every crevice of the room, hovering over you like poisonous gas that crept into every cell of your body. Watching your every move like he was a deity. ‘You want to watch a killing?’

‘Yes.’ You replied.

‘What if you were to pick out the person to be killed?’

‘I think I’d like that even more,’ you could feel a tinge of warmth collect on the apples of your cheeks, avoiding eye contact as Kai’s eyes held the most sinful stare you had seen.

‘Who?’

You looked up from between your eyebrows, ‘My ex-boyfriend,’ you started already seeing Kai’s nostrils flare with jealousy. ‘Cheated on me when I gave him nothing but the woman I thought he deserved. Now he deserves to die.’

Kai came awfully close, a chill taking over your body as he placed his large hands on your arms with a firm grip. Tighter than normal; possessive, like a hunter holding its fragile prey. ‘Tonight. Meet us here at 11pm and I swear you will get your revenge, little angel.’ Lust protruded between your frames, like hot heavy steam that fogged up your glasses if you go too close, but went back when you stepped back trying to calm your nerves. Like a priest in a confessional booth he made you nervous. Like he could see into the most intimate parts of your soul; feel you; see you like no one could. The way his voice penetrated your ears telling you what to do. Siren-like commands that you had complete control over yet wanted to treat him like your leader.

Later that evening when you returned back to Kai’s house, you saw everyone dressed in the clown costumes you had seen entering and exiting the Chang’s house only now there were less red stains than before. Meadow lifted up a black trash back with a fading smile. ‘Kai only gave me a few hours' notice. Hope it fits.’ You opened the bag to find a sort of skirt and top with pink and black stripes with a mask that reminded you of a scarier version of a childhood clown you had once encountered at an amusement park where you momentarily got separated from your parents leaving you terrified and vulnerable. Getting changed went by quick and by them time you had gotten into your new outfit, Winter hd already started the van so that as soon as you entered the back of the vehicle, Winter started driving down similar streets you took whilst dating the boy who was in for a sweet treat tonight. Kai kept eyeing you the entire time. Maybe he tried to find a momentary weakness; a flinch of regret, anything he deemed not worthy, but he never found an ounce of repression, only the focus of a woman who knew exactly what and how she was going to do it. The walk to your ex’s house was filled with a relaxing quietness. The calm before the adrenaline would rush through your veins ready to lift you to the clouds as you took in the feeling of satisfaction. The lights were on in his bedroom, the room you had found him in inches deep in the girl you had thought to be your friend at the time. The door creaked almost too loud as Samuel pried open the door with a bolt, waving the rest of the group towards him as he checked the inside of the kitchen. Samuel let you lead the way with the floor plans ingrained into your mind as you had the others on your trail awaiting you to let them know when you stood outside his door. Marshall—said ex-boyfriend was blasting old rap music so you knew he was showering. He said the shower provided him with the need to rap and listen to old hip hop. One of his quirks you had learned to love but now loathed. With the song changing to Eminem’s discography, the music you sang together later to find him fucking her to Evil Seed brought up a fire in your stomach ready to unleash. Kai came up behind you and placed his hand on your shoulder telling you to go in. Feeling a bump of confidence, you opened the door and walked across his room to where his bathroom door stood shut. You decided to not wear the mask Meadow had given you to let Marshall feel calm before real intentions were laid before him.

You opened the door, Marshall’s shower steam covering his body behind the glass, eyes shut, mouth moving to the songs. You walked over slowly, yet he never noticed anything until you had said Hello, inches away from him. Marshall jumped back almost losing balance, wide eyes and raised eyebrows relaxing when he realised it was you, a faint chuckled escaping him as he reached for the music box to turn down the music.

‘What are you doing here?’ He asked nicely, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

‘I missed you.’

‘You left me.’

‘I know. I think it was a mistake.’

He didn’t answer.

‘I wasn’t good enough and should’ve been better so that you wouldn’t have to look for the missing part of me in other women. My fault for not being good enough.’

‘You really want to get back together?’

‘Yes,’ you came closer, reaching for his cock to palm him. He lifted his head, lip quivering as he fought to keep his eyes open. He lowered his head to say something by the way he had opened his mouth but when he opened his eyes again, his knotted eyebrows staring past you had made you aware that the others must’ve been behind you by now.

‘Who are they?’

‘My friends.’ You continued to pump his cock, giving you complete control over him with a single motion. You could feel Kai’s eyes slicing into your back but it didn’t matter. You weren’t enjoying stroking his cock because you wanted him, all you needed was control and for a man irresistible to a handjob it was the perfect weapon to be used. ‘They’re here to help me.’

‘With what?’

‘To kill you.’

‘What.’

‘You hurt me, Marshall. You tossed me aside and fucked another woman. You broke my heart.’ Your grip tightened around him, the pressure inching him closer to coming. ‘Now I have to do the same. To move on.’

‘What—What the fuck are you on about, Y/n.’ He tried to push you away but you pulled him closer with a tug. ‘Get out.’

‘No.’

‘Leave or I’ll call the fucking cops.’

‘Fine,’ you said. ‘Can I take what’s mine at least?’ You stared past the others into the old room you were sure still had a few of your items you had forgotten about.

‘Sure but after I want you to fucking leave.’

‘Okay.’ You smiled.

A low-pitched scream filled the bathroom door as you stared at Marshall whose eyes rolled into the back of his head, hand flying to his front only to find his cock in your hands, red dripping from both of you as you threw it over your shoulder. ‘I’ll take the rest of you with me.’

After you had gotten your revenge on Marshall, you stood around him in a circle, covered in blood splatters and sweat pearls.

‘That was the most beautiful thing I have ever done and seen.’ You breathed, catching your breath as you stared at the bloody sight.

Kai stared at you with heart eyes. He could’ve gotten down on one knee that second and asked you to marry him but the thought of you palming Marshall less than twenty minutes ago had made his eyes go dark, a wave of anger and jealousy consuming him entirely as he stormed off downstairs. You immediately followed him to see him slide off his clown head, baby hairs sticking to his temples, nostrils flaring like they had before at his home. He was angry.

‘Why did you do that?’ He growled.

‘I did it because Marshall cannot say or do anything when his cock feels good. I wanted to control him one last time. Why? Did it make you jealous?’

‘Yes it fucking did?’ He bellowed, spit coming from his mouth as he strutt towards you, pushing you into the wall, his hand around your throat as he came dangerously close. ‘You tell me you basically like me and then touch another man’s cock. Are you a whore? Why did you do it!’

‘Would it make you feel better if I touched you now?’

‘Don’t play with me.’ He snarled, his grip on your throat now so tight you could feel the air thinning. ‘You’re mine.’

‘I know.’

‘Say it!’

‘I’m yours.’

‘And don’t you forget it.’ He pulled you to his lips by your throat, releasing the pressure that had bound you to half breaths.

He was your leader and you were his angel. In the end it was him and you. Only a love that you could understand and that was fine because you didn’t want to share any part of him anyway.

[afyrian]

ch. 2 - tea full of love m.list

    the stove flickers on, a kettle rests above the supports, water filled to the halfway mark. superficial water quickly bubbles up from the bottom. opening up the cupboard, you stare at the mugs lined up within a graph of wooden boxes. missing from one of the spots is his mug, painted over with his favorite things. you try to use it for his tea when he’s not feeling well; however, you can spot his specialty mug resting to the side of the sink, still dirty from his last use. 

  clicking your tongue, you grab a duo of mugs. the simplicity of a dinner date painted within the glaze. you made it a few weeks after going out with him for the first time. creating it with the intent of keeping it for the day the two of you would start living together. when that day finally started, you happily brought them out over dinner together (takeout surrounded by boxes). 

  setting them down on the old marble countertops, you listen to the bubbling of the water. it’s deeper this time, boiling within the pot’s walls. turning off the stove, you lift the pot up with delicacy, careful to not burn your fingers. holding it over your mugs, you slowly fill them up, setting the kettle back down onto a cool part of the stove. 

  opening up one of the kitchen drawers, you grab a couple of tea steepers. the metallic feel is cool in your hands, contrasting the warmth of the kitchen. staring down the mason jars filled with loose tea blends, you grab the blend that you both enjoy in the evenings. filled with chamomile, valerian root, and a few other calming plants. setting the steepers into the water, you start grabbing the other ingredients needed for the perfect cup of tea.

  your fingers press the timer button on the stove, making sure it has the perfect amount of flavor. grabbing some milk, honey, and sugar, you set them down, smiling to yourself. every since you started dating, it’s been the little things for the both of you. making tea, picking out a movie you know the other would like, even just folding the socks because osamu knows you hate it.

  so, when you have the opportunity to pour a little milk in his mug, drizzle honey along the top, you take it. even pouring a teaspoon of sugar into his mug brings a smile to your lips. grabbing the mugs up from the counter, completed to the best it could be, you head up the stairs to find osamu laying in your bed.

  he has a warm pack against his neck, tissues piled up in the trash can to the side of your bed. his nose is exceedingly red, eyes focused on his phone. “hi hun, what are you-,” you hum, walking through the room to meet his side of the bed.

  “don’t say a word- i’m just sending one of my employees the recipe for a new dish. and then i will relax,” his gaze flickers up to you and back down to his phone, not noticing the mugs in your hands. 

  “i totally wasn’t gonna say anything, but you should be taking a break. if i can, you absolutely can,” you sit down by his legs, crossing your leg over your knee, waiting for him to finally set his phone down.

  when he does, his eyes immediately finding yours. his gaze only moving when he notices the mugs in your hands. smiling softly, you can see his demeanor change, turn softer. pursing his lips, osamu thanks you, hand reaching for your knee, “i love you so much.”

  “i love you too, just like i know you’ll love this,” you hand off the mug, letting the warmth of the water warm up his hands, fighting the fever he bears.

  osamu grabs it within his hand, finger running through the handle, making sure it permeates. his hand stays on your knee, rubbing up and down your thigh, a smile staying on his face, no matter how sick he may be. “i love anything you make me, i always will,” osamu nods, bringing the mug up to his lips and taking a sip, making sure it won’t burn his throat.

  watching as his eyes close in pleasure, you know you’ve made it exactly as he needed it. taking a drink of your own, you lean into his touch. setting your drink down on the bedside table, you go to give him a kiss, stopping only when his eyes narrow at you. he shakes his head, “i don’t want to get you sick.”

  “babe, i sleep next to you, if i get sick, i’m gonna get sick regardless of a kiss. and if i do, we just get to spend more time home together,” you bite your lip, your face just a foot from his, gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes.

  osamu smiles to himself, looking up at the ceiling in a semi-real rolling of the eyes. looking back at him, you can see him give in. the way his shoulders drop, his hand moving the small of your back. even his eyebrows fall into a comfortable show of vulnerability. giving you his all, even when it’s diminished from his usual love of you.

  closing the gap, you give him a kiss, tasting the tea that just graced his lips. “i hope you know, illness will never stop me from loving you,” you lean your forehead against his, talking softly.

  “save that for the wedding vows, okay?” he brings his hand up to your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone. 

taglist: @causenessus @osakis-gf @eggyrocks @brkfclub @marisabel14

@bbybibi @etoiile @miyamoratsumuu @girlokarina @gsyche

@cherrypieyourface @zephestia @acowboykisser @whosmarjj @gumiiiiezzzz

@guitarstringed-scars @19calicos @savemebrazilhinata @phoenix-eclipses @theycallmenanamisgirl

@softpia @certaindreampost @miiyas @bakery-anon @nekozaki

@applepi25

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Kinktober 2024 Bonus Day

Aftercare (Fluff)

John Price/Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John "Soap" Mactavish/Simon "Ghost" Riley/Alejandro Vargas/Rodolfo Parra

Alejandro inhaled deeply as he pressed his bare chest to Soap’s back, feeling the knot in the apron strings dig into his stomach. Soap leant back into his touch unconsciously, as he was concentrating on the frying pan in front of him, fat and oil spitting as he flipped the slices of bacon that were filling the kitchen with the gorgeous sound of sizzling.

Alejandro gently kissed the side of Soap’s neck, before lowering his head, resting his chin on his shoulder. As much as he wanted Soap’s attention, he wasn’t going to distract him now. A nasty burn would put a bit of a damper on the evening, after what had been an amazing day.

“Easy now…” Soap muttered as he caught one of the pieces, stopping it from flipping out over the edge of the pan. “Easy.”

Alejandro tightened his grip, the canvas separating his arms from Soap’s abs wrinkling against his skin. “Good save, Johnny.”

Soap forced out a chuckle as he quickly flipped the next strip. “Maybe don’t with that, yeah?”

“Sorry.” Alejandro mumbled.

“Nah, s’okay. You gotta come up with your own thing for me. Be original, rather than just copying Ghost, you know?”

“But that’s work….” Alejandro whined, shifting his head down so his forehead was pressed on his shoulder.

“Hardly. How’re those rolls coming along?”

Alejandro raised his head slightly and glanced at the definitely still unsliced rolls sitting in a pile on the counter. “I’ll get back to it.”

“No rush.” Soap laid a hand over Alejandro’s arms, stilling him as he started to pull away. “We got plenty of time before the bacon’s done.”

“If you say so.” Alejandro lay his head back down on Soap’s shoulder, ears pricking when he heard footsteps coming down the corridor that led back to the bedroom.

“Hey, Simon.” Soap said, without even turning his head to see who it was. “You know, you’re not as quiet as usual.”

Ghost huffed, not responding to the bait as he crossed the kitchen to the pair, cupping Soap’s neck as he kissed him, right in front of Alejandro’s face. Alejandro leant back, letting them have their space, a courtesy that Simon quickly rewarded with a kiss of his own, before he let Alejandro go back to slumbering upright, his head balanced on Johnny’s shoulder.

“How’s everyone doing?” Soap asked, glancing up again to see what Ghost was doing with them in the kitchen.

“Good. Tired, but good.” Ghost lifted a cup down from the cupboard and dropped a teabag inside, before filling the kettle and setting it on. “Gaz wanted tea, and I needed to stretch my legs.”

Soap nodded. “There going to be enough there for two?”

“Sure.” Ghost got another cup down. “Alejandro?”

“Huh?” Alejandro raised his head from Soap’s shoulder, blinking rapidly.

“Tea?” Ghost held up a mug.

“Only if it’s already on…” Alejandro mumbled, his head already dropping back to Soap’s shoulder.

Ghost nodded, lining the three mugs up before topping the kettle up with more water and leaving it to boil as he skirted around the two men at the stove to get the milk and sugar out.

Alejandro and Soap looked very natural, standing together at the stove. Maybe it was the fact that they were both practically naked, each only wearing his underwear, and Soap an apron, for safety, but it made Ghost happy to see them together, even if Soap was trying to fry bacon using a fish slice.

“Why don’t you use the tongs?” Ghost asked, leaning over as he saw Soap struggling.

“Couldn’t find them.” Soap glanced up again, his mouth closing in a thin line when Ghost opened the first drawer he saw and pulled the tongs out, clicking them together like he was a crab, mocking him. “Look, you get fucked and search through a kitchen that’s not your own.”

“I just did, Johnny. By you, if you recall. It’s no excuse.” Simon held the the tongs to him, stealing a kiss before he let him take them. Soap rolled his eyes, but put the fish slice aside, and suddenly found that, with the tongs, he was having a much easier time frying the bacon.

The kettle clicked, sending Ghost scurrying back to it, pouring the hot water into the three mugs, swirling the tea bags around before making each mug up as everyone liked: black for Soap, two sugars for Alejandro, and milk and one sugar for Gaz. He moved Soap and Alejandro’s to the right of the stove, nodding at their mumbled thanks as he picked up Gaz’s mug and carried it back to the bedroom.

Ghost opened the door to find the room pretty much as he left it; warm and dimly lit, with a general air of sleepiness, as Gaz, Rudy and Price spread out on the bed, one of them occasionally whispering something as they recovered from the day of fucking. It had been full on from all angles; from the frenzied to the gentle; the couples to the threesomes, the foursomes; to the group passing Rudy around in a circle. Anything that a group of men could do to each other, they had done, and now they were trying to recover from it.

Ghost tiptoed to the side of the bed where Gaz was sat, leaning against the headboard, Rudy’s head in his lap as Gaz massaged his shoulders.

When Ghost set the mug down, Gaz tilted his head up, eyes crinkling when he saw him. “Thanks, Ghost. You’re a lifesaver.”

Ghost chuckled lightly, kicking his boxers off before gently helping Rudy up, cradling him against his side as he sat on the bed, rejoining the naked lounging as he took over where Gaz had left off, gently rubbing Rudy’s shoulders, as the man under him groaned softly.

Gaz sat back and picked up his tea, blowing on it gently before sipping it. “Ah… Perfect, as always, Simon.”

Simon smiled, silently taking the compliment as he dug his thumb into a knot on the back of Rudy’s neck, making him groan louder.

“Easy, Ghost. Don’t hurt him.” Price joked, where he was propped up on some of the pillows. It made Ghost laugh, as Rudy sat up to protest, and correct the record that he was fine; in fact, he liked how hard Ghost was pushing him.

“You have him, then.” Ghost gently pushed Rudy over into Price’s arms, getting him settled against Price’s side before he crawled in between Gaz and Rudy, leaning on the headboard while shoulder to shoulder with them. Gaz sighed, tilting his head onto Ghost’s shoulder as Ghost reached down and pulled a blanket up over their legs, one that was nice and fluffy, feeling like it was caressing their bare skin.

Gaz groaned softly, stretching his hands before wrapping them around the warm cup he was holding.

“You good?” Ghost murmured, looking at him.

“Sore.” Gaz admitted. “Really sore.”

Ghost nodded, tilting his head down as Gaz kissed him.

“Oi. Don’t you two act like we can’t see you.” Price called out from behind them, and they both turned to see him with Rudy sitting up in his lap, kissing the corner of John’s mouth.

“Hypocrite.” Gaz set his cup back on the table and reached out to take Ghost’s face in his hands, the warmth absorbed from the cup spreading from his fingers into Ghost’s skin, as Gaz pulled Ghost in and kissed him, over and over again.

Ghost laid his hands over Gaz’s, slowly rocking them back and forth ever so slightly, as Gaz went to him for a kiss, then he went to Gaz, until Rudy’s hand was on Ghost’s shoulder.

“I want a kiss, too.” He mumbled, curling up against Ghost’s back, eyes wide. “Please can I have one too?”

Gaz and Ghost both reached out at the same time, pulling Rudy up into Ghost’s lap and tugging his head in to include him in the spit swapping. It went so that Gaz kissed Ghost, Ghost kissed Rudy, and Rudy kissed Gaz, going around and around until the three of them were lost in the haze, just continuing on without thought, no matter how many times or how loudly Price cleared his throat.

Eventually Price gave up, tilting his head back on the wall, eyes half closing as he reflected on how long it had been since he’d last felt this tired. His life was demanding, stressful, exhausting most days, so he always felt some kind of tired, but rarely was it like this. A content, sleepy tired. A nice tired.  

“Hey, John.” Alejandro’s voice called him back from his thoughts, and Price opened his eyes to find Alejandro holding a bacon butty in front of him. “Food’s ready.”

Price nodded, his stomach audibly growling as he took the plate from him. “Thank you.”

“Thank Soap, not me.” Alejandro leaned over, quickly breaking the trio up, dragging Rudy into his lap as he made sure Gaz and Ghost both got a plate too.

Alejandro had only brought three plates with him, so ended up one short for Rudy, apologising to him by pulling him into his lap, cuddling his cock-drunk-hungover husband as he explained that Soap would shortly be bringing more with him.

Soap did indeed deliver, appearing with another round of plates and a bottle of ketchup, which was quickly doled out to those who wanted it, as everyone used their plates more like drip trays, not wanting the hassle of having to get up and clean something. As they finished, one by one, they stacked their plates up, thanking Soap, which he took wordlessly, the exhaustion catching up to him as he crawled up between Gaz and Ghost and collapsed across their laps. Rudy followed his example, snuggling back into Price’s arms, his movement shortly followed by Alejandro, who slotted between him and Ghost, keeping one arm around Rudy, and holding Ghost’s hand with the other, as he glanced at John.

“You alright?” Alejandro murmured over the top of Rudy’s head.

John nodded, mouth tightening as he looked at the door again, the one entrance and exit to the room. He couldn’t turn his stupid brain off.

“I can keep watch, you know.” Alejandro murmured again. “I can keep everyone safe.”

“You can?” Price peered at him, his eyes suddenly impossibly heavy as he struggled to keep them open in the face of possible relief and peaceful, uninterrupted sleep.

Alejandro nodded. “You can trust me, John.”

“I know I can…” Price didn’t get to finish the thought, as his body slumped down on the pillows, his head falling onto Rudy’s as he went out like a light.

“Damn, you did that so easily…” Gaz murmured, glancing over at him. “It’s usually a bloody fight and a half to get him to do that.”

Alejandro grinned. “I guess I’m just talented like that.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. “Sure, that’s what it is.”

“He’s out too, you know.” Gaz brushed his hand over Soap’s mohawk, contentedly snoring across his and Ghost’s lap. Ghost smiled, gently poking Soap’s nose, which he wrinkled, even while asleep.

“You two should rest, too.” Alejandro glanced back at them. “I’ll keep you covered.”

“Thanks, Ale.” Gaz nodded, leaning against Ghost’s shoulder and closing his eyes.

“If it’s the same to you, I’ll stay up.” Ghost glanced back at Alejandro. He felt surprisingly awake, despite everyone else’s exhaustion. Maybe it was duty – someone needed to stay awake, and he and Alejandro could keep each other company.  

“Sure. Hey, you know what, you help me come up with a nickname for Soap.”

“He still protesting at you calling him Johnny?”

Alejandro nodded.

“We can come up with something, surely…” Ghost glanced down at Soap, brushing a hand over his head. “You know, he was known as the FNG for a really long time… informally, of course, but it took him a good while to shake it off.”

“Really? Why?” Alejandro tilted his head against the wall, smiling at Ghost as he talked.

“Well… It all starts with him lying about his age, when he was first trying to enlist…”

[frotesque]

Hobie x Reader Fluff

It’s just plain old domestic fluff <3 

Hobie Brown x Reader (reader is heavily implied black/fem) 

Establishes several Hobie headcanons and develops reader “character” that I’d like to use in future works :) SFW/No smut (this time), though there is depictions of heavily making out.

You were stood at your kitchen counter when you heard your bedroom window squeak open. The sound was one so familiar to you that you still caught it over the noise of your electric kettle heating. You didn’t even look up from your phone as you reached up to pull a second mug down from the cupboard. Hobie stepped into the room a moment later, mask already tucked away. He leant his guitar against the wall before crossing the room in a couple of strides and wrapping his long arms around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to your neck, exaggerating the sound of his lips smacking. 

“Alright, my love? How’s your day?” 

You hummed, setting your phone on the counter and turning your head just a little to kiss his cheek. “Hi, baby. My day was fine. Couple meetings.” You shrugged, pulling out a few tea bags and setting them in your mugs. “And your’s?” You asked as the kettle timed out. You poured its steaming contents into them, glancing up at the time on the stove as you did. 

Hobie watched you, arms crossed over his chest. As soon as your eyes met his again, he opened them wide. You tucked yourself into Hobie’s waiting embrace, arms around his waist, settling in with a smile as you gazed up at his face. He was staring back, eyes lidded, his own-half smile crooking his lips. “‘S better now,” he said, leaning down to finally kiss you properly. He drank you in for a moment before pulling away just enough to speak again. “Thanks for the tea, love.” 

“You should give me a better thank you,” you said, shifting your grip so your arms were looped over his shoulders. His own large hands crept up your hips, dipping under your tank top. You shivered at the feel of his cold rings against your heated skin. He chuckled. 

“Yeah? How you want me goin’ about that?” A rhetorical question if you’ve ever heard one. 

Instead of answering, you simply rose up on your toes to flick his lip ring with your tongue playfully. He groaned in mock disgust, making you laugh, before he interrupted the sound by kissing you again. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth, brushing his tongue over it and prompting you to open your mouth to him. 

Hobie liked it when you took charge whenever you were intimate, but it was not for lack of enjoyment in leading himself. His kiss was determined, deep and slow like you had all the time in the world to explore each other’s mouths. You sighed, voice pitched high and breathy in a way he clearly liked, if the way he gave your waist a squeeze was any indication. 

One hand went to the back of your neck where he grabbed at a handful of your fro and pulled, tilting your head up so he could hunch his shoulders further and suck at the soft skin under your ear where your jaw met your neck. His other hand slid down to grab and squeeze the flesh of your ass. 

You hummed in delight at the reverence in his touch, eyes blinking open in pleasure. You noticed that the steeping period for your tea had passed. “Hobie,” you mumbled, lips brushing his heavily pierced ear, “gotta let me go, bug.” 

He didn’t move immediately, but he did bite your neck gently in retaliation for the pet name he pretended to hate. You only laughed at him, taking a step back to force some distance between you lest you get distracted again. 

Hobie went to the fridge to grab the milk while you dug a spoon out of your silverware drawer. “Can’t believe you’ve got me this picky with tea.” You used the spoon to dig the tea bags out of the mugs, knowing that Hobie (and by extension yourself) preferred a pretty exact five-minute steep. The habit of making Hobie’s tea had come about early in your shared living situation, and after almost a year, it was a normal part of your daily routine. Afternoon tea marked the point in the day when you and Hobie were able to relax together before his usual nighttime patrol. 

“Rubbin’ off on you, aren’t I?” Hobie teased, accepting his mug when you held it out to him. He carefully poured a splash of milk into his drink before passing you the carton and going for the sugar, which you’d set out earlier. He began adding an alarming amount to his tea while you went for a heavier pour of milk and no sugar. You danced around each other, easily moving through each other’s space. You’d just put the milk back in the fridge when you heard Hobie’s soft sigh of pleasure at his drink. It made you smile to yourself, knowing that these small gestures were an enormous comfort to him; especially after his time without a home at all. 

“Well, you are known to have occasional bouts of good taste.” You returned to his side, enjoying the warmth of the mug in your hands and blowing on it. Hobie was never quite so patient and always began drinking his tea before it’d cooled properly. 

“I have great taste,” Hobie retorted, indignant even as he smiled in good humor. “Picked you out, yeah?” He nudged your side with a bony elbow, making you chuckle.

“If anything, I’d say I picked you out.” 

Hobie had only been a model for a short time, just long enough to walk in a show with you. You weren’t generally one to fall for co-workers like that - there was no shortage of attractive models - but Hobie had an energy about him that had instantly caught your attention. There was something wild in him, not quite anger, but passion. He had hard opinions and no qualms about sharing them. It might’ve been off-putting if said opinions didn’t stem from a place of immense empathy. Hobie loved people, he wanted them to be safe and housed and cared for. Anything that prevented that was his enemy, and he was a fighter just as much as he was a lover. 

Hobie hummed in agreement. “Aren’t I lucky?” He dug his nose into the space behind your ear, unbothered by your curls tickling his cheeks, and breathed deep. 

The action made you giggle, twitching away from him before turning your head so you could capture his lips with your own again.

[love-kurdt]

The Life of Us We Can't Get Back (byler): December 21, 1990

word count: 2,103

My father‘s attitude was that this was but an inevitable phase of my growing up and he affected to take it lightly. But beneath his jocular, boys-together air, he was at a loss, he was frightened. Perhaps he had supposed that my growing up would bring us closer together— whereas now that he was trying to find out something about me, I was in full flight from him. I did not want him to know me. I did not want anyone to know me. And then, again, I was undergoing with my father what the very young inevitably undergo with their elders: I was beginning to judge him. And the very harshness of this judgment, which broke my heart, revealed, though I could not have said it then, how much I had loved him, how that love, along with my innocence, was dying.

The screams of the tea kettle startled Mike out of his place in “Giovanni’s Room,” by James Baldwin. He hadn’t gotten very far— he was only on page sixteen— but was already beginning to relate to the tortured yet compelling musings of the protagonist, David. He had already found and ended things with his “Hella,”— multiple Hellas— and his “Giovanni,” was out, working at the local coffee shop. The coffee shop where he still worked with his ex-boyfriend, Matt Winters. According to Will, their most recent breakup was mutual, but they were still friendly with one another, which… if Mike was being totally honest, bothered him just a little bit. Although, he’d be a total hypocrite if he were to ask Will to distance himself from Matt, because Mike still considered Wyatt Bowman to be one of his best friends. In fact, he was the first person Mike called when he and Will got together. He was pretty sure he’d called Wyatt from the foot of the bed, being sure to whisper the news quietly while Will slept.

The tea kettle obviously wasn’t going to stop on its own, so Mike stuck the dilapidated post-it with Will’s phone number in Joyce’s handwriting on the page he was reading and sat up from his position on the couch. He shuffled over to the stove on the balls of his fuzzy sock-covered feet (Mike wasn’t actually sure if the fuzzy socks he wore belonged to him or to Will), and removed the pot from the scorching surface. He grabbed a mug and a tea bag from the cupboard that he’d grown to become quite familiar with over the past week, dunking it in a few times in hopes that the tea would steep. He got a spoon from the drawer beside him and pushed the bag against the edge of the mug.

Everything was moving at either turtle or lightning speed these days. Mike could blame himself for that. He made the decision to drive to Chicago in seconds, he and Will reconciled and proceeded to have sex multiple times within the span of an hour of arriving at his house, and now… Mike was getting unnecessarily worked up over making his tea steep faster. Why the hell was he so anxious all of a sudden?

Mike knew damn well where his anxiety had come from; he’d been procrastinating calling his mother for days. He’d promised to let her know about his plans for Christmas, but never gathered enough courage to pick up the phone. For all he knew, she’d been calling his apartment back in Indianapolis the whole time he'd been gone. But Mike knew calling her would come with a plethora of problems, the first one being having to break the news that he’d failed out of college. The second one took root in the fact that he was currently staying in a different apartment (different from the one his dad had been shelling out money towards), not to mention an entirely different state, and with Will. And the third… well, the third problem was that Will and Mike were dating now, so he wasn’t sure if Christmas was even on the table.

Of course, Will had been pushing Mike to call Karen all week, claiming that she would probably understand Mike's multi-layered problems to an extent, but he knew (and told Will so) that their mothers were very different people, and that she wouldn’t understand. Not on the level that Joyce probably would, anyway. Mike checked the wall clock, reading 6:24pm. Will was due to come home around 6:30, which was when the two of them had planned to start packing their things to return to Hawkins. And that probably meant Will would bug Mike about calling his mom again, so… time to bite the bullet.

He headed into Will’s— their, Mike was still getting used to saying it— room, and sat down on the edge of the bed, glancing over at the nightstand. There it was. The Phone™. The phone that Will used when he— no. They were fine now. Mike was quite literally living with Will at the moment. Everything was great. So why did his heart pang with sadness every time he looked in the direction of Will’s phone? Mike decided he couldn’t think about this, not right now. He leaned over to pick up the phone, placing it next to him on the bed and dialing his parents’ phone number.

The line picked up within two rings. Classic.

“Wheeler residence, this is Karen!” Mike heard his mom say in her usual cheerful tone, and he sucked in a breath.

“Hey, Mom,” he eventually exhaled, his shaky fingertips finding the cord on impulse and fiddling with the spirals.

“Michael? Is that you?” she sounded surprised. Shocked, even.

Mike's heart sank with guilt. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

“Gosh, honey, I haven’t heard from you in so long!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I know you’re busy. How are you?” How was he? That was a simple question with a very complicated answer. He’d been doing better than he had in the past year and a half, and it was all because Will loved him. But he couldn’t tell her that. Not over the phone.

“Good, I’m good,” Mike kept it vague, “I just wanted to check in, let you know that I’m still alive and all.” After driving drunk across state lines and having a near-death experience involving a tractor trailer and "Should I Stay or Should I Go," by The Clash.

“Well, that's a relief! I’ve been— we’ve all been worried about you.” Meaning… she was worried about him. Mike wished she didn’t feel the need to give him hope that his dad might actually care about his well-being. “Are you doing alright in school?”

“That’s something I wanted to talk about over… over Christmas, if you’ll still have me,” Mike replied, his voice trembling a little too much for his liking. Too emotional.

“Of course!” Karen told him, and he bit his lip to prevent it from quivering. “Michael, you are always welcome back home. I thought you knew that.”

“No, I know,” Mike shook his head, gripping the phone tighter. “Just… it’s a long story. But I was also wondering if I could bring a guest this year?” There. He said it. Kind of.

“A guest?” He could hear the excitement creep into her voice, and he shut his eyes tightly. “Things must be going really well if you’re coming home with a girlfriend!” Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Fuck.

“… Haha, yeah, it’s going great,” Mike suddenly wanted this conversation to be over and done with so he could let the guilt eat him alive in peace. “Uh, so, I’ll see you on…” he trailed off.

“You can come home as early as you want and stay for as long as you need,” she told him. “Believe it or not, we actually miss you around here. It’s… quiet.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said. “I miss you too. So… is tomorrow okay? Me and…” Fuck, Mike forgot it was Will he was bringing home with him. Think fast, Wheeler— “We wanted to make the drive a little earlier before the real holiday traffic hits.”

“Whatever works best for you, hon! I’ve gotta head to book club, but please tell Mystery Girl that we can’t wait to meet her!” Right. Mystery Girl. Mystery Will. Jesus Christ, this was going to end horribly, wasn’t it?

“Okay…! See you soon, then. Love you.”

“I love you too, Michael,” Karen said softly, and Mike knew that she really meant it.

“Bye.”

“Was that who I think it was?” Mike heard from behind him, and he turned to see Will standing in the doorway with two cups of coffee in his hands. Bless him. Mike set the phone back on the surface of the nightstand and shifted over a bit, patting the space next to him. Will smiled, taking a few steps to cross the room and set the coffees down next to the phone. Will turned so he could hold Mike's face in his hands, his thumbs running against his cheekbones. Mike cast his gaze off to the side as he muttered, “If you mean my mother, then… yeah.”

Will sat next to Mike then, a lighthearted laugh leaving his gorgeous mouth. Mike felt a blush rise to his cheeks. His laugh. His fucking laugh. How was he supposed to function when Will laughed like that? And how the hell did he go so long without it? “Really?” Will teased. “You’re not messing with me? You actually took my suggestion, for once?”

Mike smirked, reaching up to brush a piece of overgrown hair out of his boyfriend’s eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head, Byers. I called her and told her we’re coming for Christmas.”

Will’s eyes went wide at that. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“Well, no,” Mike admitted. “I wanted to.” He reached out to hold Will’s hand in a feeble attempt to convince him that he wasn’t being a coward, that he was just… fucking terrified of the idea of coming out to his parents. “Believe me, love, I wanted to. But… I couldn’t. I just told her I was bringing someone home.” He looked down at the ground, unable to bring himself to look at Will.

“I totally understand, it’s a big step!” Will exclaimed, bringing a hand up to Mike's jaw and lifting his face up so their eyes met. “C’mere.”

Will wrapped an arm around Mike's waist and pulled him close, and Mike let out a deep sigh as he leaned into Will's touch, bending his torso at a strange angle in order for his head to meet Will's shoulder; uncomfortable, but did the job. “It’s going to work out,” Will reassured him. “Whatever happens, I’ll be here.”

“To pick up the pieces after everything goes to shit,” Mike said under his breath, and he felt Will’s hand begin to rub slow circles up and down his back.

“Don’t think like that, baby. You’re gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.”

“I don’t deserve you, Will,” Mike sighed, and he felt the low rumble of Will’s voice in his chest as he disagreed. This had become a common occurrence throughout the past week: he’d tell Will that he didn’t deserve him, and he’d remind Mike—

“Yes, you do.”

“God,” Mike rubbed his palms across his face in frustration, “What’s gonna happen when they open the door and see us together? What are they gonna think? Or what if I… I don’t know, chicken out and make up some elaborate lie like… trying to bring back our Chrismukkah tradition or some shit?”

“You wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve kinda missed Chrismukkah,” Will chuckled. Mike silently envied his optimism. He wished it was that easy.

“Me, too.”

Will grabbed Mike's hand then, interlacing their fingers, and it suddenly felt like the world wasn’t going to implode. “We’ll have to make up for lost time.”

Mike nodded, gulping far too loudly. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence followed, and Mike's eyes trailed up from their joined hands to Will's lips. Will's lips that were saying all the right things. The lips that were actively talking Mike off the ledge. The lips that Mike wanted to kiss right off his perfect face.

“Hey, Will?”

“Yeah, Mike?”

“Kiss me?”

And he did. Will did kiss him. In an instant, all of Mike's worries floated into the recesses of his mind to be dealt with later. He busied himself with the feeling of Will’s lips coaxing his mouth open, falling down onto the mattress, and letting his boyfriend hold him, take him apart, and put him back together, piece by piece.

-

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