#i want to put him and cloud in a jar and shake them

[aromantic-and-aromatic]

Honestly, I'm all for sephiroth and jenova being practically the same thing bc the repeated use of the word puppet by sephiroth himself feels very ironic and bitter. Telling cloud that he doesn't have emotions, that he was created in a lab and that his memories are fake, all of them. That he didn't have a childhood. Never was a child. And yeah, sephiroth being 100% in control and just very unwell also fits in this, in his projection over cloud being his puppet just like he was Shinra's, even though he would never acknowledge it. But I just like the idea that he believes himself freed from everyone's strings, finally in control of his own life for once, just to be too blind to realize that not even those choices were his own bc following orders is still the only thing he knows

[ninikrumbs]

things he'd never admit

Sukuna x femreader. Just pure fluff. modern au. Soft Sukuna. Sukuna is bad at emotions. first time writing for sukuna so this could be bad.

The smell of rain reaches your nose first making you look up at the dark and gloomy clouds in slight panic, "Damn, its gonna rain soon."

Quickly, you run to the bus station, but apparently not quick enough as you made it halfway through before the soft pitter patter of rain slowly turns louder.

Lady luck was not on your side today. After long tiring day at University, you're now about to turn into a wet rat. A cute wet rat, but still a rat.

It was probably a dumb thing to do, especially when the pouring rain was now blurring your vision, yet you still continued running down the slippery pathway anyways, trying to salvage your books and papers inside your gradually dampening bag.

A low, annoyed grumble made you halt in your step, "Are you trying to kill yourself, brat?"

You could recongnize that rude voice anywhere. You look up to the large form now blocking your way, and quickly noticing the dark umbrella covering your head, "Kuna?"

He scoffs and let out an irritated sound, "Who else?"

Suprise and something warm flits through your body, your eyebrows raising, "What are you doing here? I thought you were busy all day today?"

Your mind recalls his blatant reminder that he couldn't come see you today because he had some school shit to do. Hence why you didn't call him to pick you up which he usally does. Because despite his semi aggressive personality, he does take his studies seriously so you didn't want to disturb him.

And Sukuna was busy, unbearably so. Not that he would admit it, he loved spending time with you thats why he chose to spend the entire day to do his papers and essays due this week was so there would be no interruptions during your time together - which was another thing he would never admit to you- and he could just focus on you.*simp

But when he saw the weather forecast and knowing your bad habit of always forgetting to bring an umbrella, he was already out the door with his keys in hand.

He was right to trust his gut cause here you are almost soaking wet, like a stray kitten left out in the street. Not mention your clothes that were now almost translucent.

It makes him grit his teeth, no one else should see you this way other than him. He holds out the umbrella to you. "Hold this."

You take it without question and hold it above the both of you as Sukuna removes his coat and puts it over your wet clothes. The annoyed look still plastered on his face as he keeps grumbling under his breath of how much of a spoiled brat you are.

It makes you grin cheekily. Other people might take Sukuna's surly personality the wrong way but you knew better. You spoke fluent in Sukuna Itadori.

And you knew, regardless of his complaints and rumblings, he cared. He cared so much even if he wouldn't admit to you or to himself. But you felt it every second you're together.

"Watcha smilin about, woman?" He grouses, annoyed, his eyes locking in on your smile, the type of smile that makes his pathetic heart stumble.

You shake your head still grinning innocently, "Nothing."

He glares at you, not believeing you for a second, but he can roast you about that later. Right now he just want to get you home to make sure you don't come down with a cold or a fever.

With a shake of his head, he takes the umbrella from you and starts walking you to his car. He tries to be subtle about it, but you didn't miss the way the umbrella tilted more on your side getting his right arm soaked from the rain.

"Kuna, your-"

"Leave it."

"Are you sure?"

"Im fine, brat."

You bit back a grin, his words were so jarring yet with no real bite behind them. It could be his jacket that envelops your entire frame and his comforting scent emitting from it, but you feel so warm and cherished. Only Sukuna can be so grumpy yet somehow affectionate.

The car finally comes to view and he ushers you into the passenger seat, placing a practiced hand on the car door frame as you sat down.

You bumped your head into it once but the grimaced you wore is forever seared into Sukunas brain. He realized then and there that he didn't want you in any form of pain, not that you'd ever know when he called you a clumsy idiot as you rubbed your sore head.

He drove extra slow that day.

Plus he stared at that door frame for a hot minute like it was his biggest enemy when he got home.

The moment you got inside his apartment, he immediately demands you get into the shower. His voice holding no room argument.

You comply without complaints of course. After a warm shower, you change into his baggy shirts and make your way to the kitchen when you hear the kettle boiling, and surely enough he has your favorite tea ready in the favorite mug that you bought when you first started dating.

"Oi, your hair's still wet." He notes grimly by the kitchen counter, crossing his arms in displeasure. Though you don't miss the way his eyes flits across your figure in his shirt apprciatively.

You wave him off, grabbing the mug off the counter and breathing in the soothing scent of the tea, a content smile on your lips, "It'll dry off on its own, Kuna."

He tsks at your carelessness and disappears to the bedroom, he comes back a few moments later with a towel and hair dryer. "Sit on the damn sofa"

You gaze at him with exasperated affection. If only people could see through his rough exterior and notice how much this man dotes on you.

Finding no reason to argue, you plop down on the sofa with your legs crossed and he finds his place behind you, fluffy towel in hand.

Gazing down in the mug in your hands, you smile secretly to yourself. Your boyfriend may not be the most expressive when it comes to declarations of love, but you didn't need words. His actions spoke more than any kind of heart trembling confession or lovesick poem.

And you felt everything he would never admit outloud in the way his rough, calloused hands are so uncharacteristically gentle as he weaves through your hair with the towel. Handling you like you were some precious china.

You clasps your hands over his, making him stop. You turn your head and look up at his questioning gaze. Smiling softly, your kiss one of his palms. "Thank you for always taking care of me, Kuna."

His eyes widen slightly before his mask of nonchalance returns, huffing,"Dunno what yer talkin about."

"You know exactly what Im talking about." You grin.

He rolls his eyes feigning irritation in order to hide the small smile tugging in the corner of his lips, "Don't get too used to it."

But he did want you to get used to it. Needed you to need him. This way maybe you'll ignore how shitty he is at emotions or how he can't do all the lovey-dovey stuff that makes you swoon in those crappy rom-coms you're always watching. He'll never hold a boombox over his head outside your window.

"Too late." You say, snuggling your cheek into his palm.

Sukuna falters a bit.

He's a confident man, women would beg for just a single glance from him despite his abrasive nature, it was all part of what Gojo called his charm -and once again he'd never admit it to you- but your words eases the insecurities he didn't realize were there. He grumbles under his breath somewhere along the lines of you better not taking that back.

You laugh at his mumbling, the sound like music to his ears, "Oh, Kuna."

[captainjamster]

Pairing(s): 141 x Reader Warnings: mentions of (pixel) animal death, butchering of a pixelated cow (rip thank u for ur sacrifice) Wordcount: 2.3k Summary: How I think you would get the boys into Minecraft and/or what it would be like playing with them. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: Hello why yes, this IS my first post in four months despite the mountain of unfinished fics I have xD I will edit any errors out of this later, but I'm making myself post this because I'm tired of avoiding uploading until something feelings perfect lol

We're pretending Mojang is competent so ignore any inaccuracies to how Minecraft actually works <3

Full fic under the cut <3

Price just plays to amuse you, but he becomes competent at the game ridiculously quickly. Yes, he might jokingly be an old man, as his favourite youthful commander would put it – but this ‘old man’ can learn new tricks, and he’s pretty sure some of the technology he works with would make a civvy’s head spin. Though he’s unfamiliar with most video games and consoles, sacrificing his youth for service, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard of them or played a game or two. John will admit; he doesn’t see much point in it, but adores the excitement you glow with as you’re adventuring and building.

“Alright, so it’s w, a, s and d to move, right? And then the space is to jump.” Your hands barely stretch over his, guiding them to the keys.

“S’easy enough, I suppose,” he rumbles, giving you that smile that crinkles his eyes. You resist the urge to kiss them as he adjusts his hands over your keyboard, giving the buttons experimental taps and watching how the screen reacts.

“Yep, and then you use the mouse to control your head, look around and stuff.” You nudge it over to him, and he gives it a shake before looking around.

“More bloody blocks. What’s that thing, there?”

You squint, looking closer. “A sheep, don’t worry about it. You want to try moving around?”

Once you’ve taught him the basics, his rapid acclimation to the games and controls are jarring. While he doesn’t become some Minecraft speed-runner pro, he’s an equally capable player in fights and foraging, and your base is ridiculously plentiful. You’re never lacking resources, and although he never mentions it, you can see John bloom with pride from the corner of your eye whenever you praise him for the neatly organised provisions.

You have to laugh at his suspicion of everything – “is this hostile?”, “this one hostile?”, “s’hostile one?” – and the way he takes protecting you seriously, scolding you for not wearing armour and giving you his own until he can make more.

The first time his dog dies, you think it might be over for your Minecraft run. He goes silent, aggressively hitting the keys as he slaughters the mobs around you, only speaking up when the area is clear. “I didn’t know that would happen,” he mutters, picking up the dropped loot as you make a sympathetic noise. When you log on the next time, waiting for John to come back with snacks from the corner, you don’t mention the small fence with a sign reading ‘Price Jr’ tucked into the oak trees at the edge of a pond – but the next time you check it, there’s another daisy swaying in the wind next to yours.

-----

Gaz knows what Minecraft is AND he’s played it – you’ve even played it together before. This boy is a gamer, and he’s down for a night of co-op couch games and take away with a cosy blanket if you are too.

Though he tries his hardest not to let it show around you, Kyle is aggressively driven in becoming competent, and that includes in video games. You never have to worry about dying, although it becomes a little frustrating when his experience level is more than triple yours – but you can’t even stay frustrated, you learn, as he unfalteringly drops his items and starts building a dirt stack that he jumps from, exploding into clouds and XP that floats towards you with a light, twinkling chiming. When you scold him for doing something so unnecessary, he gives you a kicked puppy look over his shoulder, pouting up at you. “I didn’t want you to wait for me to make a mob farm!”

Unlike Price, this man IS a Minecraft pro – he’s pulling out the water bucket to save you from falling, using beds to fight hostile mobs in the underworlds, zooming around with fireworks and an elytra to find that rare, specific coat of cat you’ve been running across the map looking for. You’re pretty sure that he could’ve beat the Enderdragon twice as fast if you weren’t there, but he still insists you were an equal champion of the fight as he proudly places the dragon head on your trophy wall.

Gaz is always prepared when the 6-month Minecraft fever hits and you make a new server. He’s sending you pinterest links of cute house ideas, making comments about adding another coop for the chickens and a pond for turtles. Hell, he’ll build them with, or even for you, if you want him to.

Playing with him can sometimes be similar to one of those youtube tutorials that cut back to a clip after some ‘offscreen building’ and they’re standing in front six life-scale cathedrals and a replication of Mt Everest – each time you log back on, you swear he’s expanded your base by another chunk, and you can’t even be mad you didn’t get to do anything because your world looks GOOD, and Gaz makes damn sure of it.

He has just about everything you can think of, and if not? There’s a sign next to his bed for you to note anything missing. Your main base is situated within a town of villagers with minecart roads and furnished houses, bakeries, animal centres, banner and dye stores – hell, he’s even built a zoo and an aquarium for the animals you can’t tame. All of your pets have names that he refers to fondly, each with their own little houses in a miniature version of the village. Despite the effort he puts into housing them, Gaz is a menace to the villagers – bad deal? Executed, or imprisoned at best. Sometimes logging onto for a session turns into a dramatic medieval roleplay as you dutifully play the executioner, triggering the trapdoor to give way to the pool of lava while Gaz finishes dramatically reciting the villagers’ crimes from a book - gives the ones that get to live names like ‘village dunce’ and ‘emerald hoarder’.

When you do build by yourself, he’s your project advisor throughout the process, patiently supplying the materials and helping you with the details. “Babe, this doesn’t seem right,” you grumble, head in your hands, “can you please come look?”

He’s quick to slide his chair across to yours, leaning on the sides. “This one,” he announces after a quick scan. “You added an extra block.”

You recount again, letting out a groan as you start breaking the blocks, and Gaz dutifully rolls back to help you. He’s your partner in crime, complicit in indulging your abandonment of any appropriate sleep schedule, staying up until he calls out your name to find you asleep, drooling on the keyboard.

-----

Soap does not give a shit until you mod the fuck out of it.

Yes, he knows what Minecraft is, thank y’very much bonnie, but he just doesn’t care for games that much. Like Price, his youth was spent either trying to get into the military, or actually being in it. The only games he’s entertained are his small selection of first-person shooters he plays occasionally off deployment that you can never beat him in. The topic first comes up is over dinner after a call with Johnny’s family, as he���s grumbling between bites.

“My sisters weans play all sorts ‘o stupid games, bloody bite my head off if I call ‘em the wrong thing – Minecraft, Roblox, aren’t they all the same?”

“Aren’t all shooter games the same, by that assumption?” You point out to his distaste, and he makes a face at you, reaching over the table to steal a bite of your food.

The next day, you pull up Minecraft for him to properly check out. Johnny isn’t particularly enraptured by the charm of the game, but he perks up when you mention the redstone mechanics. “So, it’s really just all block-y? And ye smack things wit’ yer hand?” He frowns, leaning against the back of your chair.

“That’s one part, yeah. But you run around and gather resources, by mining and stuff, so you can craft and build better things to survive – you know – Mine, craft. Minecraft.”

Johnny scoffs, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Y’think I’m daft, now? Taken too many knocks to the head, aye?”

“Let go of me, you’re going to get me killed!” You squawk, and he lets you struggle for a moment before he kisses the top of your head and releases it, wandering into the kitchen for what you assume is a snack, knowing Johnny.

The next time he takes interest, you’re still up when he stumbles in blearily, rubbing his eyes. “Bonnie? Yer not really still playin’ this, are ye? Y’haven’t even slept?”

“I was going to sleep soon,” you huff, turning back. “I just need to get a few more things and go back home.”

There’s an incredulous noise amongst footsteps over your shoulder, and his voice is suddenly a lot closer in your ear. “Soon? S’five in’ the morn’ bon, are ye just gon’ sleep the day away?’

You pause the game, spinning the chair around to meet him with a glare. “Why are you up this early?”

“International meeting, don’t go changin’ the subject.” He spins you back around despite your protests, leaning back upon your chair once again and peering at the screen. “Cannae see what yer enjoyin’ about this.”

“Wh – I mean, it’s not like last time. This time, I’ve downloaded these files that modify the games contents, and there’s way more crazy shit. You can mod it so much it’s like a new game.”

Johnny makes a noise of interest, dropping down to settle against your shoulders. “Really now?”

“Yeah, like look at this. I’ve got a gun in the game.”

A shotgun appears in your hand as you scroll to the hotbar tab, and you shoot a shell into the ground, listening as Johnny clicks in appreciation, surprisingly satisfied after his scrutinising. “Alright, show me ‘er properly.”

He hovers over the chair for a few more minutes, taking in your overview of the mods. “Oh, and this one! Hang on, look.” You hit a cow, and Johnny watches as it falls to the floor. Grabbing the body, you drag it over to a pixelated hook, and show him how you break the carcass down through the stages, collecting parts down to the bones.

He makes a noise of interest. “Si would like that. Can ye play with other people?”

You spin around to give him an excited grin, feeling the sleepiness retreat with your rapidly building enthusiasm. “Why, you want to join?”

Johnny scoffs, but there’s no hiding how his eyes gleam as a smile tugs at his lips to mirror yours. “Only after I finish the meetin’, and y’get some decent fuckin’ rest.”

-----

Ghost doesn’t care until Soap asks him to play.

When you originally ask him, it’s a late evening, and he’s curled up on the bed with a book as you deliver the question. There’s a pause in the turning of pages, and you get the usual dead-eyed stare when you say something he thinks is stupid over the edge of his book. ‘Y’want me to play a kid’s game?”

You give him your own scrutinizing look back, before turning back to the screen. “It’s not a kid’s game, Simon. Video games aren’t just for kids.”

He doesn’t press the topic any further, but you know his mind is often unchanged - so it’s a nice surprise when he brings it back up again a month or so later over the quiet chatter of some foreign film he’s watching, stirring you to look up from the words of your book.

“Oi, what’s that game y’were talkin’ about? Bloody… Mineshaft?”

You think Simon knows perfectly well what the game is called, but you humour him, pulling the blanket down slightly to look at him. “Minecraft?”

He snorts, leaning back into the armchair. “Yeah, s’one. Johnny’s bird got ‘im into it, won’t stop yappin’ ‘bout it now.”

You hold your breath, doing your best impression of nonchalance, directing your gaze back to the book. “Oh, yeah? That’s nice, sounds like he’s excited about it.”

Simon gives a non-committal grunt, but you can tell his focus is beyond the screen he’s looking towards. “Asked me t’play it with ‘im, bloody bastard. Said ‘e’d paid for a server or some shite.”

Excitement explodes in the back of your mind as you mentally praise your husband’s co-worker, thanking him for his influence as you steady your tone. “Well, why don’t you?”

He snorts with a cross of his arms, holding the remote against his chest. “Don’t know how to do all that rubbish.”

You close the book, sitting up and waving off his statement assuredly. “I have it installed already, you don’t have to do anything – oh, but can you ask him if he’s playing with mods?”

He’s not impressed with the request, frown deepening. “What, ‘m I your personal messenger now?”

But you’re onto him already, guiding the topic back on track. “Alright,” you give him a dry look, “give me his number then.”

The show pauses, and Simon looks back at you. It takes a moment, but you know you’ve won with a roll of his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he pulls his phone out and passes it to you after another message comes through.

>> Bonnie got me a whole folder of mods. Liek a whole nother game. Yer gonna play minecraft with me?

“So what?”

“Okay, well that’s easy to set up.” You pass the phone back to him, settling into your comfy nest of blankets. “So?”

“Are you going to play with him?”

(A month later, there’s another desk snug against yours while Simon fumbles with his screen settings as a broguish laugh comes from the headset, and Friday nights are something you’re realising you’ll never get back from that goddamn pixel game)

Headers and Dividers by saradika-graphics

[coffeeghoulie]

Mushy May Day 26: "Here, Let Me Help"

Mushy May put together by the lovely @forlorn-crows <3

Cumulus wants coffee, but the last person to put dishes away put all the mugs out of reach. Swiss helps her. No warnings, 600 words.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

It’s rare, but sometimes Swiss is the first awake in the ghoul den. He slips out from his hearth without waking Aeon, kissing their forehead softly before padding silently down the hallway to the kitchens. The sun hasn’t risen yet, the faintest suggestion of sunrise on the lowest horizon out the window over the sink.

He sighs, rolls his shoulders, and starts to make breakfast. Usually it’s a responsibility that Mountain takes on for the pack, but Swiss figures if he’s up, his own stomach starting to rumble, he may as well. He may not be the same level of cook that Mountain is, but Swiss knows he can do pancakes. Something hard enough to fuck up.

Swiss gathers ingredients, fresh berries from the greenhouse, a package of bacon and sausages, eggs from the coops, and gets to work. First, though, he sets the kettle on for coffee.

He saves frying everything up until more of his packmates are awake, wanting them to actually get a hot breakfast. Mixes up the batter, grabs the fixings. Swiss finds a paring knife in the drawer and starts cutting berries.

Cumulus steps into the kitchen mid-yawn, freezing as she sees Swiss, eyes wide behind the thick frames of her glasses. “Morning, dear. Didn’t think you’d be up yet.”

“Morning, cloud.” Swiss shrugs. “Neither did I,” he says, smiling fondly at her before turning back to the strawberries. “Coffee’s on the pot, won’t be surprised if we have company soon. Bloodhounds of packmates, we have.”

Cumulus smiles, leaning behind him to kiss the crown of his head. He can feel the way her glasses slip down her nose and click against his horns. “Sweet of you to make breakfast.”

“Mount does so much for us, figured as long as I was awake I’d try and return the favor,” Swiss says, watching Cumulus go to the cabinets for her mug, tempted by the promise of caffeine.

She opens the doors, stepping up on her tiptoes, before settling back on her feet with a sigh. “Off the top of your head, who did dishes last? Or did Mount rearrange the kitchen again?” Cumulus asks.

Swiss looks up, glancing over to the open cabinet. He cringes as he sees the mugs all lined up perfectly on the third shelf up, far out of Cumulus’s reach. “Not exactly certain, I had laundry duty last. Want me to grab them, cloud?”

Cumulus shakes her head, white curls falling out from under the scarf she tied her hair up with before she went to sleep. “I got it,” she says, staring up at the cabinets as she squares her shoulders.

“Cue,” Swiss says, reaching her way. “Please don’t climb on the counter.”

She turns over her shoulder, an icy blue eye meeting his. “I can get them.”

“Cumulus, love, cloud,” he says, standing and padding over to stand right behind her, her back flush to his chest. “Here, let me help.”

He pulls her mug, pressing the ceramic into her hands gently, pulling a few more and setting them on the first shelf for the next people who want them. Swiss leans down and inhales the sweet coconut and fresh air scent that always seems to surround Cumulus, kissing her hairline. “We’ll help, love. We’re a pack, we help each other.”

Cumulus sighs, leaning back against him. “We do. Thank you, dear.”

“Any time,” Swiss whispers, kissing her temple.

“Do you need help with breakfast?” She asks in return.

“Gonna start actually cooking stuff soon,” he says, stepping back to pass her the carafe of coffee. “If you wanted to help with that.”

Cumulus grins as she pours a mug, passing a second one Swiss’s way for him to do up as he likes, grabbing the jar of brown sugar and a spoon. “Sounds like a plan.”

[missmielyhoran]

Oreos and Pickles

in which you spent 2 years with Harry and a grocery store trip makes you realize it was all secondary...

[Warning- Just angst, fluff if you like close your eyes ig, pregnancy cravings, complicated feelings and a very awful grocery store trip]

A/N- Don't even ask me where these sad things even come from

Masterlist

*****

"Why do they have Oreos so far back?!" You whined as you walked down the lines and lines of grocery racks. Harry laughed beside you and slid one of his arms around your waist while other held onto the trolley.

"Why don't you stay here and choose which pickle you want, and I will be back with your oreos, okay?" Harry said, and you nodded quickly, ready to go home as quickly as you could. Harry gave you a kiss on the forehead and walked forward while you chose from the plathora of pickles.

This pregnancy has made you weird. You used to be one of those people who would make faces while seeing pregnant people eat weird things like cucumber and ice cream and now you're one of those people and your weird craving of the month has been oreos and pickles.

You sighed and took out two jars of lemon pickles and decided to just walk towards your boyfriend since he was taking ages to get a packet of oreos.

As Harry came into your view, so did someone else.

"So how have you been?" You heard them ask to your boyfriend who was picking on loose threads of his sweater, which was one of his nervous ticks.

You quickly moved towards him, thinking he might need comforting. Harry wasn't very talkative person even ordering his coffee gave him so much anxiety that he brought an overpriced coffee machine. So, you didn't think much of it.

"Hey babe, you found oreos?" you asked as you came to stand beside him. The person's eyes went from him to you, and it's then you realized that they both were wearing the same shocked nervous expression.

"Yeah- um here" He took the jars from your hands and put them in the trolley with oreos.

"Who's this?" You whisper asked, not wanting to be rude if this was someone you already knew. It was hard for you to remember people, especially their names. That's why you and Harry fit so perfectly, he would remember people for you while you talked wherever he couldn't.

A perfect team as he called it.

"Hi I'm Allison" She put forward her hand to shake and you took it shaking it happily.

"She" He cleared his throat, "She's my ex wife" He said the last part almost in whisper. You eyes widened but you quickly got your shit together.

"Oh it's so nice to meet you, I'm Y/N" You introduced yourself. Harry never talked about his ex wife, you knew he was divorced and very much depressed considering you two met at the same therapist office when the receptionist accidentally appointed both of you at the same time.

Anytime you would ask, a certain sadness would cloud over his eyes, and his face would morph into a frown, so you stopped asking. If he wanted, he would tell you at his own pace.

The two of them kept staring at each other, not saying a word, and you felt a bit uncomfortable. It might have been your pregnancy hormones you didn't know, but an unknown deep pit sat in your heart.

"I will get some more things over there" You said quickly walking over to the other side still in earshot before Harry could say anything.

You winced as your sore feet ached more from walking.

You just wanted to go home.

"How have things been?" Allison asked but your back was turned so you couldn't see Harry's reaction.

"Good ya really good" He replied and you felt a relief. Why? You didn't know. You trusted Harry he would never break your trust.

"That's good to hear Harry" She replied and from her tone you guessed she was smiling maybe not really but a smile indeed.

"What about you? When did you move here?" He asked and that's when you turned not fully but enough you could look at him sideways.

They were still in their own bubble, eyes locked but neither of them were in present you saw the longing in them, maybe in both of them but you could only speak of Harry's.

You had never felt so out of place near your own boyfriend. For a second, it felt like you didn't belong here like you had separated two lovers, but you did neither of those things. You weren't some other woman who stole someone else's man, but why did it feel like you were?

"I'm just here for a work meeting. It went well so" You heard her speak signaling to the wine in her trolley.

"That's great. Congratulations" Harry said, you picked out more things from the racks you didn't need but you would rather walk home than go in between that awkward conversation.

But you had to cause now your hands were full. You sighed and started walking back, Harry gave you the gentle smile he always give when you wince while the woman's eyes followed your every move.

You stood beside Harry again and saw her eyes flick down to your grocery trolley when Harry put down the stuff you brought over.

"Pickles and Oreos? You hate both of those things" she said with a small chuckle.

"It's for her not me" Harry just gave her a small smile while you shifted your weight on your feet.

You wanted to go home.

It might have been your dramatic brain but you saw the moment realization hit her. When her brain put the two and two together, her eyes flicked towards you and then towards Harry.

"Oh, Congratulations!" She said with choked words but you knew she was forcing it. You gave her a smile and looked at Harry who opened his mouth and then closed it as if he was about to speak.

Like he had an explanation. An excuse.

"I will go to counter for billing" You said a little bit snappy which you didn't mean but he hurt. The pregnancy wasn't planned but what was he about to say? Why he looked like he wanted to explain it to her?

Harry hesitate a bit, you saw it how his legs froze for a second and now they looked like they both wanted to stay there but you didn't.

You had no hard feelings towards her, but you did feel it was wrong. Like this whole meeting of the grocery store was wrong, a glitch in matrix that wasn't supposed to happen.

But no matter what was wrong and what was right, you knew one thing loud and clear.

Harry will never love you like he loved her.

*****

Harry's Pov

it was in my drafts, so I posted it cause I haven't posted in very long.

I've almost settled in my room, but still, it's new, and I have so many classes. I hope you guys understand that I can't update very much. I will update the stages of grief, and I'm so so sorry it's delaying sm.

I love you hope you understand<3

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 33

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Okay I had no plans to get this done but since US thanksgiving is near.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You cling to that moment of peace. Without Andy touching you, smothering you, invading you. You hide your head under your bent arm, curled up on your side as you try to close the world out. Reality slices through you like a razor.

You cannot outrun what is. Not anymore. You’ve lost that ability. Your mind can’t summon the fantasies that once kept you safe. There is only the tenderness inside and the bruises on your thighs. 

He’s there, somewhere, lurking. You thought he would go to work but that hope was quickly crushed, along with all your others. He stayed and touched you until that got the better of him. Then he would put you on your back, or your stomach, sometimes your side, however he wanted you…

And you let him. You don’t fight. Your weightless body follows his whim and opens to him. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper as your walls clench at the thought of him near you. 

There’s something wrong with you. You’re supposed to love him, so it shouldn’t feel so bad, right? After all he’s done for you, shouldn’t you want him to do that? Shouldn’t you be just as eager for him?

You don’t understand it. It’s not supposed to hurt so surely, you’re doing something wrong. You’ll get it right. You can be what Andy wants, what he needs. You will not be another burden. Never again.

You hear him coming. You quiver and shrink down further. You can’t find the strength to sit up and try. 

He greets you with a sigh. Oh no, he’s mad. You whimper and curl your arm snugger around your head. What did you do now? What is he going to do?

He nears the bed, his shadow standing over you as his presence brings a dark cloud. He shifts and sniffs, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. He puts his large hand on your shoulder and you wince. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“We need to talk, Dove,” he says.

Talk? You can’t handle it. You’d rather he just hurt you than repeat the facts. You don’t need him to tell you how bad you are, you already know.

“Sit up,” he shakes you, gently but enough to jar you.

You relent and fall onto your back. You stare at the ceiling and press your hands to the mattress. You sit up, little but little, your muscles knotted and stiff.

You hug the blanket to your chest, hiding behind it as you hunch your shoulders forward. You can’t look at Andy so you focus on the lump of your feet under the covers.

“Why do you keep lying?” He rasps.

You blink as your lip trembles, tears threatening to spring free. He’s mad again. Your entire body tenses as you brace for what comes next.

“You could’ve told me about Steve,” he lifts the shape in his lap and you glance over. It’s your tablet. “He’s your doctor, I wouldn’t have been mad.”

You sniffle and cup your chin in your hands, fingers over your mouth. You watch him turn the tablet over and slide back the cover. You don’t try to stop him or defend yourself. He’s right. About everything.

“If you needed help… with the toy or figuring things out, I was here. I am here. You could’ve asked me,” an edge creeps into his voice, “why didn’t you ask me?”

You don’t say a word. You’re trapped in your own guilt. He has the proof in his hands. You did it, you lied and betrayed him.

“The only thing I ask of you, is that you tell the truth. You haven’t, so I can’t trust you. Not until you show me I can,” Andy closes the tablet, pressing his thumb to the cover. “And maybe then you can have this back.”

You nod and hang your head. It’s easier if you just do what he wants. You’ll get used to it eventually, maybe even one day, you’ll be normal and want it too.

🕊️

“This is nice,” Andy struts into the room with a hanger in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed where he left you. His frustration drew you out of your cocoon to shiver in the morning air. You can smell the crisp autumn seeping in around the window. There’s no point trying to figure out how long you’ve been like this, counting the days will only make it torturous.

You glance over as Andy waggles the dress at you, one of those he bought you. The bishop sleeves are almost longer than the skirt, the shade of faded plum overlaid with a translucent layer. You look at it and nod. Whatever he wants.

“You’ll have to clean up first,” he lays the dress on the bed, “it’ll help you feel better too.”

You blink and pinpoint on his chest. You can’t look him in the face. He nears you and runs his hands down your arms, sending a chill through you. He bends and twists you around to scoop you up. He hums as he lifts you against his chest.

“Aren’t you excited, honey?” He chimes.

You frown, excited? You let your head fall against his shoulder. There isn’t an ounce of strength left in you.

“Thanksgiving,” he prompts as if it’s obvious, “I got everything we need! So you can get started once you're ready. Don’t worry, I woke up early to deal with the turkey.”

He enters the bathroom and puts you down on the closed toilet. You look down at yourself. You wear his t-shirt and nothing else. He moves away to crank on the tub and quickly comes back to you. You wrinkle your nose, confused.

“Thanksgiving?” You croak.

“Uh, yeah, duh!” His tone is laced with forced enthusiasm. “Our first together.”

He tugs the hem of the shirt from under your ass and you murmur. You try to catch the cotton. He tuts and you let go. He rolls the fabric up your body and you lift your arms, surrendering.

“An…” you start to say his name but can’t get the bitter noise out. You clear your throat, “what if… I don’t feel good, I don’t know if I have the energy–”

“You’ve been in bed forever. You can get up for one day,” his timbre turns rigid, “you promised me. You promised Doctor Kemp. Do you want to let us both down?”

You close your eyes and slump. He huffs and tosses the shirt on the tile. You reach to touch your lashes and sniff back a wave of tears. It’s not just the time, the way it moves without you knowing, no, it’s him that makes you feel so helpless.

“Don’t do this,” he whispers, half a growl.

“I…” you inhale, struck by his fury, “I won’t. I’ll be good.”

You try to force a smile as you pull your hands away. Your cheeks twitch and your eyes sting, your lips just won’t curve the way you want them too. Another sigh as he stands straight. He rolls up his sleeves before he lifts you again.

He lowers you into the tube as you squeeze your legs together. You fold your arms around yourself, trying to hide, as he reaches for a scrubby and the bottle of vanilla soap. He pops the cap violently as the water bulges up towards your knees.

“Dove,” he reproaches as he grabs your arm, straightening it as he holds your wrist firmly.

You squeak as he scrubs you harshly. You hide behind your eyelids as the flash of another memory strikes you. The cold downpour of water from a screaming shower head, chattering teeth, and quaking sobs.

When he makes you stand, you curl your fingers to tight fists. As he washes you, you feel even more exposed than before. He takes his time on your chest and stomach, surprising you as he leans forward to his just beside your navel. You flinch and glance down.

“You’re beautiful, honey, you shouldn’t be so shy,” he says, “all done, sit.”

You obey and he finishes up the bath, helping you stand before wrapping you up in a soft towel. He pats you dry and moisturises your skin with the fragrant strawberry lotion. This time, he makes you walk back to the room with him.

As you consider the dress, he goes to his dresser and slides out a drawer. He comes to the bed and drops something else. You stare at the white panties and bra, see-through and speckled with little hearts.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says as he touches the front of his shirt, damp from the tub, “I’ll change too.”

You bite your lip and keep your chin down. You touch the dress, staring at the underwear, mortified at the thought of wearing those. Why can’t you wear something comfortable? Why can’t you be you? Why can’t he love you as you?

🕊️

Andy said Steve is coming. You don’t dare ask when as the conversation about your tablet looms over you. You don’t want him to think anything bad of the doctor. It’s not his fault, you’re just stupid.

You put your energy into following the precise instructions printed out before you. All the ingredients are set out neatly for you. It’s all manageable, even for you.

In the next room, the TV blares with the commentators on the NFL pre-game. Andy paces in and out, as if checking on you, or maybe he’s restless. You start peeling the sweet potatoes as he comes in again, looking at his watch.

“Dr. Kemp said he’d bring dessert,” Andy says, “I bought a pie just in case. If he isn’t here in the next hour, we’ll take it out of the freezer.”

“Okay,” you agree as you drag the peeler over the bumpy potato.

“You must be excited, huh, dove?”

“Um, sure, I… I like Thanksgiving. Lots of food,” you smile, you’re getting better at that. “Um, yeah.”

“What?” He tilts his head, his hands going to his hips. Oh no, he’s mad. Again.

“N-nothing, I didn’t…” you look away, “nothing.”

“It’s just Steve,” he shrugs, “I don’t have family. You know, if you bothered to ask, you might realise we’re a lot more alike than you think.”

You chew your cheek and focus on stripping the orange potato. You never did ask. You didn’t think you should. It feels nosy so it’s not that you never wondered or cared, you just don’t know what’s right.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“For?”

“For not asking. Sorry that you’re alone too,” you grab the next potato.

“Not anymore, dove, we got each other, right?” He chirps, “anyway, before you get too deep into that, you should really do the snacks first. Can’t watch football without munchies.”

“Oh, I… I didn’t think…” you put the potato down and wipe your hands on the dish towel on the counter.

“Wait, wait,” he goes by the fridge and unhooks an apron hanging on the other side. “You don’t want to dirty up that pretty dress.”

“Uh, good idea.”

He puts the top strap over your head, tugging it down snug to your neck. He signals you to turn and you do. He steps close, reaching around you as he smooth the front and drags his hands to the thinner straps behind you. He ties them slowly, tickling your lower back through the dress.

“Let me see,” he steps back.

You face him and he admires you. You look down at the floral fabric with a large bow at the waist. It looks almost like a vintage dress on its own. You straighten your arms and sway as he purrs.

“That looks so good on you,” he steps closer and you plant your feet, resisting the urge to retreat. “Makes me wanna eat you up.”

Your chest racks with panic as he advances on you. He corners you against the counter as he flutters his fingers along the ruffled edge of the apron. You watch his hands creep up the fabric and gulp. Oh, again? Here? You thought you were safe.

“We got time,” his hands close on your hips, “just a little taste.”

You yelp as he takes you off your feet, perching you on the counter. Your ass knocks a bowl across the island and you brace the granite for balance. He pushes your knees apart and steps between them. You're paralysed as he cups your chin, tilting your head back as he kisses you. Suddenly.

He clamps his hand around the back of your neck, locking you against him. His other hand trails down your leg, stopping at your knee and crawling back up. He slips beneath the apron and your skirt, tendrils radiating from his touch. Your muscles spasm as you gasp.

He parts from your lips, kissing your jaw and neck, nibbling and moaning as his fingertips inch towards the trim of your panties. The cool air slips beneath your dress and through the thin fabric. You shudder as you close your eyes, trying to bury yourself inside.

“Mmmm, dove,” he shifts and nuzzles your chest.

He slowly gets to his knees, holding your legs apart as he pecks along your skin. You whimper as he edges towards your skirt, his breath dampening your thigh. He hums and pinches you with his teeth.

“Delicious,” he pokes his head under your skirt, a sudden ding breaking your trance.

He retracts, sitting back on his heels as the doorbell echoes through the house. You look down at him as he closes his eyes and grimaces. He shakes his head and pushes himself up to his feet, grunting as he stands.

“Great timing, as always,” he scoffs.

He struts out, his chagrin obvious in his posture. You push off the counter, landing awkwardly on your feet, tweaking your ankle slightly. You go to the doorway, peeking around into the hall but not daring to venture out.

Andy rolls his shoulders as he stops by the door. He heaves a breath as the doorbell chimes again. He turns back the latch and twists the handle, pulling it back.

“Andrew,” Kemp’s voice booms into the entryway, “Happy Thanksgiving!” You can’t help the way your heart topturns at his familiar timbre, “brought dessert.”

“What is she doing here?” Andy growls.

“Thanksgiving is for family, Andrew, and her family is here,” Kemp insists.

“No, I didn’t invite her–”

“Where is she?” The unseen ‘her’ asks. Your mouth falls open. Amber? “Let me see her.”

You rush forward without thinking. No fear, no doubt, you just want to see your sister. You scurry down the hall and brush by Andy, elbowing him as he reaches to stop you. You burst out through the doorway and crash into Amber, wrapping your arms around her.

“Hey,” her voice piques as she hugs you back, “hey, I’m here.”

[alaskan-wallflower]

Hiii! Hope you're doing better

If you ever feel like it, I'd really love if you did some Steve hurt/comfort. No pressure, just if you want!

You're the best :)

thank you :) i’m doing better for now! nothing i can’t handle. thanks for reaching out tho <33

and sure! i can do that!

when steve’s upset, he needs to be alone. like in the moment if something’s upsetting him, he needs to be by himself until he’s in a state where he’s not gonna burst out into a rage or punch something. so if something’s the matter, you’ll usually know because he just disappears

he’s pretty mature in that sense—he knows when he needs to take a step back ahd he makes sure people know not to follow him or question him about it. he either goes for a walk or just drives around aimlessly for like an hour until he’s cooled off enough

he has select people he goes to for comfort. usually either sodapop or evie because he trusts them more than anyone else. it’s nothing personal, he’s just not really an open book with many people, even in the gang

evie’s his go to for advice and soda’s his go to for listening/comfirting. sometimes he doesn’t want advice, he just wants to bitch fir a half an hour. soda’s better at listening anyway—he’ll add in some commentary but nothing major. evie gives him sound advice though—she’s sharp and usually knows what to do

it’s pretty obvious when steve’s upset—he gets quieter, you can tell his normal resting fave is less “intentionally tuff” and more “head in the storm clouds, something’s going on in his head that’s not good” if that’s makes sense.

he hates getting asked “what’s wrong” because it puts a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow down and his hands start shaking, so he walks away or just keeps insisting he’s alright

i’ve mentioned it before but steve deals with really really horrible nightmares about his childhood or something bad happening to his loved ones. when steve and evie were together and they were sharing a bed and this would happen, she would be startled awake by steve shaking her and begging her to wake up because those dreams are always so so vivid that they feel real and when he first wakes up he can’t tell the difference between dreams and reality sometimes

it’s the same way with sodapop—some night she wakes up to steve shaking him awake (if it’s bad enough he’s like visibly shaking/crying out of sheer panic) and soda has to spend a good twenty minutes calming him down. not that he minds, but it’s so jarring to see steve of all people wailing his name like he’s just witnessed soda dying, which to him, he had

evie gave soda advice on what to do when this happened—if you just stroke his hair for a bit and stay calm and assure him you’re fine, he’ll calm down. they never ever talk about it the morning after because steve remembers all too clearly and could never meet their eyes afterwards because he was just so mortified . he hates feeling “weak” like that, and in his eyes, he shouldn’t have reacted like that, even if it wasn’t his fault

steve doesn’t usually seek out comfort, and it’s rare he does. He usually reaches out for comfort by coming over to the curtis’s after a particularly rough beating to be patched up. soda ushers everyone else out of the room and simply just asks “what happened?” and steve just unravels and tells him everything that happened that week. not even just from that night, but just whatever was bothering him

sodapop sometimes just takes steve’s hand in his own and rubs his knuckles as he speaks. it helps ground steve when he’s talking because steve’s a lot like a cornered dog—he’s backing himself into a corner emotionally and he’s working himself up.

steve gets very bad stress induced migraines and stomachaches, so soda usually makes him tea to help settle his stomach/ease the headache while they talk because he knows steve’s literally going to work himself up so bad he’s going to get sick, so it’s the best they can do to prevent that

steve tends to walk away if he feels like he’s gonna start crying—it’s very very rare that steve cries at anything, especially if it’s something emotional, so when he starts feeling like that he gets into that fight or flight mode. soda knows to just let him go. they’re working on expression and soda’s trying to help steve realize that crying and feeling things doesn’t make him any less of a man or anything, but it’s difficult.

steve tends to lash out if he’s forced to stay in one place when he’s emotional, so if something’s going on while the gang’s over he ushers everyone away and lets steve go for a walk. everyone in the gang is aware of it too, so it’s not really shocking

sometimes if soda’s not around, darry usually is. darry and steve don’t have the greatest relationship, and steve won’t open up to darry like he will with soda. darry knows to leave him be, but he leaves a big slice of cake out for steve afterwards. he offers steve to talk, even though the answer is almost always “no thanks”, he still offers.

back to evie—she’s actually very good with giving advice, and after dating her for quite some time, steve knows that. she knows how to whip him into shape if he’s getting testy with her too, but she’s a lot less fierce when he’s upset

she sits him down and just has this way of making him feel safe like nobody else does. before steve knows it, he’s spilling his guts to her and she’s nodding along and encouraging him to keep going. after he’s done, she offers him advice on how to cope in a healthy way, relationship advice, she tries to give him advice about how to deal with his dad, but he gets so tense that she just doesn’t always bother

he hates being touched when he’s in his “i’m working myself up’ moods, but afterwards, he leans into soda or evie or whoever he’s with just a smidge and allows a hug or something. he does however like having his knuckles rubbed a bit, as mentioned before. it grounds him.

that’s all i’ve got for now—hope these are good :) thanks again for checking in, hun, that means a lot 💜

[thetrashbinseries]

— Fahrenheit Part Two ( bangchan x reader )

rated - mature | minors dni

parts - one, two, three

warnings - idol universe, name changed idols, mature themes, drug use, alcohol use, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, slight angst, explicit smut, 'daddy' and 'babygirl' petnames, light spanking, heated physical domestic argument

x x x

Jake shot me a text as soon as he touched down in his hotel, leaving me to navigate the aftermath of our little gathering solo. I silently cleaned up the traces of the night, letting my thoughts swirl in the quiet aftermath. Shouldn't I be on cloud nine? Chris, I assumed, had already landed by now, maybe snagging his stuff from the baggage claim. Why the resistance to me picking him up? Couldn't he save some cash and avoid those Uber headaches? As I mulled over Jake's words from our earlier chat, a wave of guilt washed over me. If someone messed with my career, I'd probably cut ties too. 

But did it have to be face-to-face? 

Suddenly, two knocks jarred me, throwing my dogs into their usual frenzy of barks. Now? It felt too soon, like breaking a speed record from airport to doorstep, factoring in landing, baggage, and Uber waits. My motion light, unnoticed until now, flickered on as I was lost in thought. My palms got a little clammy as I fished out my phone, checking for messages from a friend dropping by. But all my friends were back in my hometown. 

Unscheduled visits are a rarity out here, that’s part of the reason why I picked such an isolated home. 

Scrolling through my phone, the doorbell rang out, setting my pets into a louder commotion. Activating the security camera app, I saw Chris on the screen—dark hoodie, black beanie, and chill gray sweats. Hands in his pockets, a visible exhale, like he'd been holding his breath. Just one piece of luggage, small enough to be a carryon. Skipping baggage claim altogether, I guessed. 

Maybe he didn't want to risk airport paparazzi, but at this hour, it'd be a ghost town anyway. 

I unlocked the door, slower than planned, giving it a cautious swing open. Stepping back, I left room for him to enter, the question of how to react buzzing in my head. Hug him? Kiss him? Do a little happy dance? God this is awkward. Chris sniffed, a hint of red on his nose, and began shedding his shoes and beanie, shaking out his curly hair. He looked wiped, but it had been ages since I'd seen him without the makeup mask.    His eyes told the tale of tiredness, the faint shadow under barely-there brows, and the shifts in his skin tone—all untouched by the glam squad. Even a touch of facial hair peeked through, a secret sign of the real guy behind the polished pretty boy image, something he religiously stayed on top of. All the things that make him very human.  The things not many people get to see. 

"What changed?" I threw the question at him, arms crossed in the entryway. Our eyes connected for the first time since he rolled in. I caught a flicker in his right eye, a giveaway of stress and insomnia. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, a nervous move, just enough to reveal a hint of his dimple near his mouth's corner. 

Undeterred, I pressed on, "Channie—" 

His eyebrows pulled together instinctively, a tough look in his eyes. "Don't call me that," he shot back, a stern expression etched on his face. 

Frustration bubbled up, my voice amped up involuntarily, control slipping away. 

"What the fuck is your problem? What? Did you catch a red-eye just to come argue with me?" 

"Yes! I caught a red-eye fucking flight to—"    Chris cut himself off mid-sentence, sucking in air sharply through his teeth, muttering something under his breath in Korean. He ran his hand down his face, eyes closed, releasing a breath before locking eyes with me again. The anger lingered, but it was transforming into something I couldn't quite put my finger on. 

I could feel hot tears threatening, but I held them back, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, refusing to show any weakness. Was this the end? 

"Of course, I hopped on a flight to have it out with you. Isn't that what you wanted?"    “Don’t you gaslight me Christopher Bang, I’m not your little fucking fans–” 

He looked exasperated, hands out, "What do my fans have to do with this?! You said it's simple, am I coming or not? I'm here, just like you wanted, because it's all about you, isn't it?" 

I turned away, striding off, the red haze building within me. I wanted to lay into him for talking out the side of his neck like this, but I wouldn't stoop to that level. His voice echoed down the hall. 

"Yeah, walk away. It's your specialty—running away." 

I halted, closing my eyes, back turned to him, grappling with the urge. I fought it hard; he was on the brink of hitting below the belt. Logic eluded me at this moment. 

"I'm going to smoke before I physically violate you." 

Attempting to walk away again, his footsteps echoed behind me. Chris wasn't the type to follow for an argument—that was typically my role. I expected him to detour to the kitchen for a drink or something, anything other than what he actually did. His hand seized my forearm, yanking me hard enough to turn me three-quarters around. I saw red, wind knocked out of me as my back slammed into the wall, caged between his big, loud hands thudding against the wall beside my head. A flinch—a moment of confusion. Had he struck me? 

Quickly assessing, no parts of my body ached except between my shoulder blades from the impact. 

Breathing heavier than anticipated, Chris mirrored the sentiment. 

"Physically violate me, then," he uttered, his voice dangerously low, just above a whisper. My body was confused, my brain a tangled mess. His intense gaze bore into my face, forcing me to look away. He tilted his head, compelling eye contact once more. 

"It's not rocket science, Y/N." 

The phrase echoed from our earlier phone argument, reigniting my hostility. I raised my head, meeting his eyes with a narrowed gaze. "I hate you," I snarled, trying to slip underneath his arm to free myself. Chris wasn't having it; he gripped my wrist behind my back, pressing my chest against the wall. His muscular frame kept me in place, his chest against my back. I twisted my wrist, but he tightened his hold. His breath grazed my shoulder, his words so close to my ear it felt like he was feeding them straight into my brain. 

"I hate you too, baby," he murmured. His free hand ghosted the tendrils of hair that had escaped my messy ponytail, tender and gentle unlike the firm grip on my wrist. As his fingers swept the hair away, soft lips pressed against my skin, eliciting a sigh from my lips. Each kiss left thorns of heat, moving along my neck, down to my shoulder. 

"I hate you," I repeated, losing my edge. 

"Mmm, shut up—I know," Chris replied.    Finally, he releases me, his hands finding their way to my waist beneath my baggy sweatshirt. Despite being in my home for a few minutes, his touch is still cold against my warmed skin. I feel a shiver as my nipples harden, and he seems to sense it, cupping them, squeezing. My knees almost buckle as I lean back, my head perfectly resting on his shoulder. Our bodies intertwine, fitting together like a perfect puzzle piece. His fingers pinch the pebbled flesh, drawing a moan from me and an audible sigh from him. 

He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and I can feel his hardness against my backside. It's not a gradual thing; he's already rock stiff, hips grinding into me as his hands explore my body with a passionate messiness. 

What were we arguing about again?    Lust swirls, making me dizzy with how good my body feels. My eyes lose focus and regain it with every recovery breath as he squeezes at the extra padding on my hips and waist. No part of my body goes untouched, and I try to shake off my reservations.     No, that was a hang-up of mine.    Christopher Bang is here to touch, lick, and squeeze every inch that belongs to him. 

A tap on my hip brings me back to reality—a gentle reminder between us whenever things heat up in unconventional places. 

Against-the-wall activities are actually pretty uncomfortable in real life. 

Who knew? 

He takes my hand, and I follow him like an excited puppy, almost stumbling over myself to reach his body once we get to the couch. It's my turn now; my hands have a mind of their own too, you know. 

Such a soft face without makeup, I'd almost forgotten the hardness of his body—had it become even more solid? My hands run over his abdomen, feeling something different—less lean, more meaty. Usually, I go straight for what's mine, but now I'm curious. Gripping the bottom of his hoodie, I can sense the muscle shirt underneath, so I yank them both off, the scent of his body wash, cologne, and deodorant hitting me all at once, etching the experience into my mind on nearly every sensory level, except for... 

Taste. 

As his clothes drop to the floor with a muffled thud on the carpet, he turns to face me. His skin is less milky, more sandy tan, and wheat-colored under my warm lights, unlike the artificial ones he's usually bathed in. He must've soaked up the sun in LA, and I can still see it reddening in the places where blood has surged the quickest. 

He's completely under the spell of carnal sensuality—deep in the well, unable to see anything around him, becoming the parts of himself he wouldn't dare confront in the daylight. I notice because I pay attention to things like that—I see the way he looks at me, as if I'm his most treasured plaything. His mannerisms change, slower, with certainty in every touch. He says things you wouldn't dare repeat once he's back to his Earth self, lest he deny, deny, deny, laughing loudly overtop of you, or cringing away from embarrassment. 

Yes, as I drop slowly to my knees, watching him, I see the way he stands in his masculinity, divine, a god in his own right. Just when I think the moment can't get any hotter or I might combust, I hear him—a puff of air through his nose, a lazy, almost entertained, but not quite—chuckle. His lip quirks ever so slightly upwards. 

"You hate me?" 

Heat radiates from my body; I'm certain I'm letting off steam at this point. I feel it, especially in my face, fingers wrapped in the waistband of his sweatpants, hanging loosely as I look down, unable to maintain eye contact, feeling regret building up in me. I can tell by the way he says it that he never believed it—but still... 

"I didn't think so," Chris' voice answers the unspoken questions in my head. His fingers graze the bottom of my chin, urging me to look at him. "Look at me while you do it." 

My engine roars to life without hesitation. I tighten my grip on his sweats, yanking them down with determination. He kicks them off, backing up to sit on the couch, but I'm not waiting. I take the caramel-colored, thick head of his dick between my lips, halting his retreat. The sweetness of his precum floods my mouth, turning bitter as it reaches the back of my tongue and throat. Flattening my tongue against the bottom of his girthy shaft, I open my mouth, letting him rub his sensitive, unsheathed tip against the warm, back wall of my throat. 

Obediently watching him. 

He likes that, making it clear by placing his hand on the back of my head, urging me to stay while he thrusts further, pulling out just a centimeter to plunge into my throat. Small gasps escape his lips every time my gag reflex spasms around him. I run out of breath, choking backward, and he lifts his hand, allowing me to right myself. 

"C'mon, babygirl—thaaaat's it—fuck." Chris grips what's left of my ponytail, guiding me back onto his dick, all the way to the back, with no true mercy. A few more tiny thrusts, and I'm coughing again, my mouth and jaw drenched with slippery saliva mixed with the constant ooze of his precum. He glances behind him, ensuring his seating, then lets himself fall back onto the couch, hand tangled in my thick hair as I wrap both hands around his cock—a pretty, deep brown, a stark contrast to his body tone. 

When I start focusing on stroking his sensitive tip, he drops his head back, emitting the most delicious groan. Pulling back on his sheath, dribbling spit onto his tip, I begin jerking him again, taking advantage of the smoothness the extra skin provides. I follow with my mouth, taking in whatever my hands can't reach, and when I start with the suction, another groan escapes him—this time, broken, his hips rising a little off the couch, encouraging me to keep going. 

"Oh God—that feels fucking—incredible; don't you—fucking stop."    His chest moves with each gasp as I twirl my hand a certain way. I try to stay consistent, but it's been a while, and my neck strains from the bobbing, lips growing numb. But fuck, he's so hot; I don't wanna stop. 

I engage in a slow rhythm, savoring the silky feeling of his dickhead against my swollen mouth and eager lips, pressing loud, wet kisses against it. He's lifted his gaze to watch, and I seize the opportunity to run my tongue along his length, exploring the prominent ridge beneath. 

"Oh my God—" His head drops back, words and vowels drawn out in ecstasy. 

I lean back on my heels, hands taking charge, a twist here, a firm grasp there. When I lean forward and start slurping again, with all intentions of taking this man’s soul—his hips withdraw, and he halts me with a breathless, "Fuck," sounding like he just finished a sprint. "You almost made me cum," He taps my shoulder twice, a signal we both understand, prompting another switch in our silent dance. 

I’m more than happy to obey, feeling how wet I’ve become when he pulls my sweats off as I climb onto the couch on my knees, my arms resting on the head of it that rests against the wall.   I can feel his hands, now warm, even hot almost against my ass as he spreads me open.  I curl my fingers into the couch with anticipation, and then comes the feeling of both of his fingers entering me first.  I let out an eager moan, reveling in the relief and satisfaction of being touched by someone so skillfully.  He’s curling two fingers, stroking my spot, I can feel his pinky and index splayed against my juicy, wet pussy lips.  The filthy sounds amplify as he increases the pressure, prompting me to move against his touch, the base of his hand firmly against my asshole. 

“Mmm, baby, you know how much daddy loves to eat this pretty little cunt—but the way you’re clenching around my fingers, fuck I—I gotta feel you.”  Chris slows down, he speaks again, reminding me of his proposition, “Is that alright babygirl? Hm? Can daddy fuck you now?” 

“Mhm, Mhm!” I can’t think straight, why was he asking? Of course he could fuck me ten ways from Tuesday in a handstand for all I care!  Just— 

“Fuck me.” I beg, unsure if I meant to finish that thought out loud. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” The weight of his knee presses onto my leg, his foot securing his position against my other thigh, his thumb against my asshole as I begin to feel his dick stretching me open, eliciting the weirdest, downright feral sound from deep within my gut. He’s raw, and I swore I could feel every vein, every ridge, and his head passing through every sensitive quadrant of my pussy until his balls tickled the lips covering my entrance.  It was then that my walls squeeze around him, desperate to feel him move.  I could almost make myself cum just like that—I begin moving against him, caught in the intensity of the moment, like a cat in heat, and he’s so deep, I feel him in places that make my eyes flutter. 

Thumb leaving my sensitive hole, Chris takes firm hold of the sides of my tummy, rutting into my heat, sending a shiver through my spine that puts me into an arch. He seizes the chance to hold the front of my neck, adjusting me for a slower, more profound connection, exploring every inch of me.  It takes a lot of stamina in the legs for this—of course he’s got that.  I rest my hand on his thigh beside me, feeling the firmness, digging my nails in as I grit my teeth together, the pleasure overwhelming me as our bodies, beginning to get slick with the fluids between us, rock desperately against one another. 

I'm released, and I lurch forward, barely snagging myself on the top of the couch. Just then, I sense it against my left hip— 

 tap tap 

My vision snaps back into focus as I hear him breathing as heavily as I am, flopping down onto the couch. I take the lead, hovering over him. We both gaze as his dick is swallowed up by my pussy, inch by beautiful inch.    I let out an incoherent sound, a mix of a grunt and a moan, my arm draped over his shoulder, fingers entwined in the curls at the nape of his neck as he thrusts. My touch shifts from gentle exploration to grabbing fistfuls of his thick, silky, curly hair at the base of his skull. Using my knees for stability, I sync with his rhythm, adding those addictive hip circles that set every part of me ablaze like a pinball machine. The alarms blare, the lights flash – this, right here, is my favorite way to connect with Chris, where we're on an equal playing field. 

As we delve deeper into each other's gaze, the intensity heightens, but there's always a moment when one of us surrenders, head lolling back, eyes rolling together. His hands work my hips in rhythmic circles, like a baker kneading dough on a board. Yet, I sense when he's had his fill as he takes back control, lifting me up and snapping his hips into me at speeds that defy reality. My cries become a constant stream, shameless screams of his name, erratic and desperate. 

"Yeah, thaat's it—"    I can feel my walls softening as my body begins to literally feel like it's filling up with water that’s threatening to consume me any second now.  I’m gasping, trying to form the words to tell him I’m almost there, that he can’t stop, or even slow up, he’s got to keep going, I’m certain if I don’t get there, I’m going to die. 

“D-Daddy, don’t—” I can’t say anything else, I can only hope he gets it. 

And he does. 

Chris always gets it. 

“Gonna stop---all your bitching, hm?”  He’s holding my waist to allow me the freedom to focus on my impending orgasm. “Gonna let me do my fucking job from now on, yeah?”    “Mm--yeah!”      “Say it,”    “Chris!” I whimper in protest, “I’mma s-stop fucking---bitching!” 

“That’s my girl.”    He slaps my ass, sending a shock through my body, but before I can recover, he strikes again, and again, and my body becomes quickly hyperstimulated. I start letting go, my breath held hostage in my chest as Chris lets out a stream of curses, hitting his peak and spilling inside of me.  I can feel it, it’s carrying my climax out even further, and when I finally collapse, with him still inside, I can feel my entire body buzzing, and I’m muttering something that doesn’t make sense to myself or him. 

We're both catching our breath, heart rates settling down, but Chris finds joy in this aftermath. He chuckles, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my lower back, exploring the dimples above my tailbone.    "What are you saying?" he asks. 

"I love you. I love you, and I never want us to breakup. Ever," I say, more composed now, my cheek resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, the pull of sleep threatening to take over like it always did after a proper orgasm. His arms wrap around me, securing them with a grasp on his own wrist. I feel a sense of security. 

"I love you too. I didn't come all this way to break up with you," he reassures me. I lift my head, likely with my hair wild and untamed. 

"Really, Channie?" 

He laughs.  The nickname is cleared for use again. He kisses my lips.

"Of course not. Why would I cross the country just to break up with someone? That seems like a lot of...effort," Chris continues. He tilts his head back to gaze at me, tucking his chin in. Once he sees my focused attention, he looks ahead as he talks. "I want to be with you, or I wouldn't have made you my girl—" 

"You didn't," I interrupt, sitting up. I pull away from his lap, wrapping the knitted throw over myself as I nestle into the couch beside him. 

He looks puzzled, "I didn't? Really?" He shrugs, raising his brows. "I always thought you were." 

The relief floods in. 

So, we were on the same page. 

Curiosity takes over, and I inquire, "When did you start thinking of me as your girlfriend?" 

"Mm." Chris looks up in thought before locking eyes with me again. "The first time we had sex." 

I'm taken aback by the memory. It wasn't a smooth ride, ended up in a heated argument. "When I got caught outside the building after our studio session? Chris, you almost jeopardized your whole career after that." 

Chris tugs at the blanket's end, and I hand it over. As he slides underneath, he takes my foot into his lap, rubbing circles into the center. "That's not how it works—don't get me wrong, it was... difficult. It still is, which is why I couldn't just decide to show up when you asked. I've been allowed, by contract, to date for a few years now." 

"Then why are we sneaking around like you're ashamed of me or something?" I hug the blanket tighter, feeling exposed. 

Chris seems thrown by this revelation. "Ashamed of you for what? You're beautiful, talented. I don't—did I give you that impression, babygirl?" He shakes his head. "I'm protecting you. You've just been signed to a major label, and we've got a good thing going, yeah? Why mess it up now when we can wait for things to level out for the both of us?" 

He makes some valid points. It's reassuring to hear he's not ashamed of me. I start to feel the familiar peace his presence brings. It's been four months since we were last in the same country, let alone the same city. I grew impatient after he came in on business and then left again, making excuses not to see me. That's why this time, I escalated it and added pressure. 

"Level out, what does that mean?" I ask. Chris sits back, mindlessly running his thumb over the pads of my toes while looking at the coffee table's candle. 

"I think we'll know once we both get there." He looks up to me. "I'm sorry, babygirl. I wish I had a better answer for you right now." He sounds sincere enough. I believe him. He's given me no reason not to trust him before, right? His fingers stop on my soles, and he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if trying to see something better. He leans forward, picking up the knitted beanie near the ashtray. 

My heart drops when I realize what it is. 

But why? I didn't do anything wrong.    RIght? 

"This new?" He turns it around on his hand. "Where'd you get it? I like it." 

Caught in the moment, I blurt, "A gift." I reach forward, taking it before he can spot any stray hair that doesn't match mine. He's not checking that closely, at least not yet. I turn it over in my hands. "I've been keeping it cold in the house, so it helps keep me warm," I say, tossing it onto the beanbag chair. I turn to him, nudging his shoulder as I scoot closer. 

"Sooo, how was KCON?"  - fin

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Bite

Summary: They're playing Bobby's old team.

Between worry and anger, Don doesn't know which one will win out.

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Hockey AU, Angst, Major Character Injury, Protective Don Hume, Car Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2671

A/N: for @sparrow-in-the-field !! thank you for sending me this idea, it was fun and emotional to write shdfajskdl

-

AO3

or

There is a change to Bobby. 

Don can’t put his finger on it. It’s only been a week after all. Maybe it was the last game they played. They didn’t lose, but the talking they got from Ulbrickson was jarring at best. And Don knows as much as Bobby respects Ulbrickson, more often than not, they’re at odds. 

That doesn’t seem quite the problem however. From stilted smiles to short conversations, Bobby is somewhere else. No matter what Don says, all he gets is a wave, a reassurance that all is well. The helplessness carves into his chest and Don just wants Bobby to tell him the truth. 

Dinner is a quiet affair and when they’re in bed, watching a movie, Don finally tries again.

“You okay?”

Bobby is slow to turn from the TV, brows already furrowed. “Yes…? Why?”

Don shrugs, takes Bobby’s hand in his own. “You just seem a little off is all. Like something is on your mind.”

The sigh that leaves Bobby is drawn out, tinged with a hint of nervousness. “Have you looked at the schedule lately?” 

Don shakes his head. He doesn’t mean to lose track of games, but when it’s one right after the other, they tend to get lost in the shuffle. 

“We’re playing my old team soon.”

Don’s jaw tightens and he pulls Bobby close. Suddenly, Joe’s newfound attachment to Bobby makes sense. This day was bound to come, but Don worries that no one on the team is ready to handle what might be thrown at Bobby.

“Please don’t defend my honor or anything like that,” Bobby looks right in Don’s eyes. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate it, but as much as I hate to admit it, Peterson is a damn good forward and we need you on the ice.”

A small sigh leaves Don. Bobby is right. If they want to sweep the game, they’ll have to be on their best behavior. No matter the anger that boils low in Don’s gut.

“Okay,” he nods. 

The corner of Bobby’s mouth twitches, a struggle to smile as the silence edges in. 

“I’m not going to let the puck get anywhere close to you,” Don promises. 

“I’m holding you to that.”

Don tilts Bobby’s head up, brings him into a soft kiss. Bobby’s sigh is heavy and Don just wishes he could take on every little thing that eats at Bobby. If only Bobby could never hurt again.

Bobby’s eyes are slow to open when the kiss ends and Don looks on with fondness. Entrancing doesn’t even begin to describe how Bobby looks, the way Don’s heart stutters. 

With a scowl, Bobby’s face turns red and he mumbles something under his breath. Don laughs at this, pulls Bobby onto him. The two adjust so Bobby is sitting on his lap and facing him. 

This earns him a quirked eyebrow, a sly grin, and Don knows the night has only just begun.

~

The locker room is tense. 

Any chatter is quiet, short. There is a cloud hanging in the air and Don chooses to focus on his stall. 

“Alright, boys,” Bobby clambers in, all dressed and ready to go. “I don’t want a single one of you in the penalty box.”

There are glances exchanged, a few nods. Joe’s mouth opens but before he can speak Bobby stops him. 

“Rantz,” he warns. “I know you’ve got some personal beef too, but what’ll really put them in their place is not letting them score a single goal. I know you boys can do it and I’ll be dead before I let a single puck get past me.”

“We’ve got your back, Bobby,” Roger reassures and the first smiles start to show. 

As tempting as it is to pull Bobby into a kiss, Don lets him leave the locker room with the first of the guys trailing behind. Throwing on the rest of his gear, Don is quick to follow, the mouth guard clamped tight between his teeth. His anger is unfamiliar, but he lets it settle deep inside, ready to jump only when necessary. 

The pre-game, the face-off is a flurry. Don is looking into smirking faces, catches a few choice insults when the ref is distracted. If his grip on his stick doesn’t snap it in half, slamming it into Peterson’s face will. 

But, Don does as Bobby asks. He doesn’t cave in to his emotions, keeps his head high. With Shorty and Joe with him, they’re a force to be reckoned with. Only once does Chuck have to get the puck out of Bobby’s zone. 

Then, one of the other players does the unthinkable. Don isn’t close enough, he doesn’t even see it happen until he hears Chuck’s shout. The game comes to a halt and Don scrambles over to Bobby. He’s on his hands and knees, head hanging low. His breaths are haggard and Don falls next to him, arm around his shoulder.

“He decked him!” Chuck yells at the ref. “His neck practically snapped in half!”

The ref is trying to calm Chuck and Don leans in close to Bobby. “What happened?”

“What Chuck said,” Bobby grimaces. “Fuck, I feel dizzy.”

Before Don can yell for Ulbrickson, he’s already there, kneeling on the other side of Bobby. 

“Let’s get you off the ice.”

“No!” Bobby shoves Ulbrickson and Don away, only to lose his balance. He falls against Don and winces. “I can do it, Coach.”

“Like hell you are,” Ulbrickson takes hold of Bobby’s arm. 

Bobby looks to Don for help, but Don has to take Ulbrickson’s side. It’ll be better to have Morry and take their chances than Bobby getting worse. 

With a frustrated groan, Bobby lets himself be taken off the ice. Don just wants to follow, but he stays rooted, gives Morry a nod as he takes his spot in front of the net. 

“Moch has you all eating out of the palm of his hand, doesn’t he?” 

Don turns to the voice, teeth grinding into the mouth guard. He gives an even stare to his opponent, hates the amused smile on the other man’s face.

“He must really be putting out this year. Got a pretty little mouth, doesn’t he?”

Don’s anger spikes but seeing Shorty hold Joe back out of the corner of his eye quells his fire.

“Yeah. Too bad you don’t get to have it anymore,” Don bites back. 

He skates to his position as the ref and coaches try to regain order. Don was determined to put their rivals in their place before, but now he wants them absolutely decimated. His boys match his energy and Don fights and fights. 

They win by a landslide and Bobby, now much better, pulls Don into a hug, almost sending him head over heels into the box. 

The locker room is full of energy in the aftermath and after Bobby’s reassurance that all he’ll have is a sore neck the next day, everyone splits off in their respective groups to rest for the evening. Outside of the locker room, Don throws his arm around Bobby’s shoulders as they walk down the hall. Bobby is already going a mile a minute, praising Don, gushing about Jim’s little trick that turned the other team on their heads. 

Don is just ready to cuddle with Bobby, but it seems life has other ideas. The hall is blocked with Peterson at the front, several other players around him, loud and joking. It’s their only way out and Don holds Bobby closer to him.

“Well, look who it is,” one of the guys calls out. “How’re you doing, Bobby?”

Bobby ignores it and Don tries to make a path for them. 

“Don’t be like that,” another attacks. “Come back to our hotel. Let’s make some more memories.”

Don’s heart breaks when Bobby flinches, but they keep pressing on. They’re outnumbered though he knows he and Bobby have a fighting chance. 

“How can you be with him, knowing what he does? He’s just a slut.”

They were almost free, but this is the last straw. Don turns on his heel, faces the rivals head on. 

“Don,” Bobby tries to stop him. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Defend the guy with the sex channel,” Peterson grins.

“You mean the channel that bought our penthouse apartment? Or are you referring to the fact that both of us are debt free?” Don is a charging bull and he doesn’t give the other men a chance to get a word in. “Not to mention how not a single one of you could score on him when he was in the net. Don’t know how you got into the leagues. And while you’re jerking off your useless dicks, I get to have amazing sex with the man you’ll never lay your hands on again. So, shut up before I knock out the last of your teeth.”

Grabbing Bobby, Don drags them out to the sanctuary of the parking lot. There’s no following footsteps but Don still makes sure the doors are locked when he and Bobby get into his car. 

“Sorry,” Don mutters before pulling out of the lot. 

Bobby is quiet their entire drive home and Don’s mind curses him. He just snapped, couldn’t stop the outpouring. It felt good to say all those things, but it might’ve been too much. He might have hurt Bobby.

When they get to their parking space, Don turns off the car and makes no move to get out. Bobby still hasn’t said a thing. 

“Bobby, I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

Don is slammed back into his seat with Bobby climbing on top of him and he crashes their mouths together. 

“Fuck, that was so hot, Donny,” Bobby pants between open kisses. “I wanted to fuck you right in front of them.”

Shock doesn’t begin to cover it, but Don returns Bobby’s passion all the same. He’s given no time to think as Bobby works open his jeans and he’s only shaken from his stupor when the car horn blares. 

“Shit,” Bobby leans forward. 

Don just laughs, pulls the seat lever so he can lay back to give Bobby some more space. Bobby grins and throws open the console where they keep lube just for occasions like these. He’s all over the place, about to grab the bottle before he’s trying to get his own jeans off. His sweater gets tossed into the back, but he keeps his shirt on as he finally frees himself from his jeans and underwear. Don barely has time to shove his boxers out of the way before Bobby is already stretching himself. 

So impatient he can be sometimes, but Don is endeared nonetheless. His hands trail up under the white shirt and he drags his nails along Bobby’s spine. Bobby whines at this, bites his lower lip as he shoves three fingers deep inside. 

It must hurt, but the smile Bobby gives Don isn’t pained at all. Instead, it steals Don’s breath away and he forgets himself. 

When Bobby lines up with his cock, Don just wants to shove all the way in. He needs to be consumed by every inch of this man. Never know a day’s rest without him. As if reading his mind, Bobby slams down pulling heady groans from both men. 

“Bobby,” Don’s head falls back against the seat. 

“Yeah, such a good boy for me,” Bobby breathes. He has one hand braced on Don’s chest, the other on the window. “So good.”

“Anything for you,” Don confesses. 

Bobby leans down to kiss him then. Don soars, sparks fly from his mind to his fingertips. Bobby is more than just his boyfriend. He’s both the storm and the calmness afterwards. He’s a kiss in the rain, the snow that melts in his hands. 

Don could cry at how lucky he is. 

When Bobby moves to lift his hips, Don sighs with all the love inside of him. He meets Bobby halfway and their bodies collide as they fall further into their hunger. Don can’t help but stare, locking his gaze with Bobby’s while he rubs a thumb along his lips, red and bruised.

“Touch me, Don, please,” Bobby begs, his hand fisting into Don’s shirt. 

He can’t say no to that. Don reaches for Bobby’s cock, stroking with a featherlight grip. It pulls a whimper out of Bobby and Don does it again just to hear that beautiful sound. 

Don can’t focus on just one part of Bobby. From his tight hole to his weeping cock, hair falling into his face, Bobby is a masterpiece. The parking lot is dark, but Don can still see Bobby’s eyes shine, blue like a diamond in the ocean.

Lost in ecstasy, Don squeezes Bobby’s sides, makes him cry out again and again. Bobby is almost there, his mouth dropping open, gasping, struggling for a single breath. Watching him fall apart is enough to drive Don over the edge, but he needs to see Bobby come. Needs to have his very being poured into him.

Bobby spills over Don with little warning and his moan shakes the car. It takes just a moment for Bobby to collect himself before he keeps moving on Don’s cock. Bobby teases him with slow drags, clenching his hole, but it’s more than enough.

“Bobby,” Don chokes out, slamming into Bobby, two, three more times before his own release crashes into him. 

Bobby falls on top of Don and the two hold onto each other as if this is their last moment together. The car seals them off from the rest of the world, a solitude so difficult to find some days.

“I love you. I love you so much,” Bobby whispers. 

Wetness falls against Don’s neck and in his worry, he pulls Bobby’s face into his hands. Bobby is crying, refusing to look Don in the eye. Don’s stomach sinks and he doesn’t know what’s broken.

He wipes at Bobby’s tears and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Bobby?”

It’s a tense moment as Bobby hiccups, mouth opening, but no sound coming out. Don can only hold his face, hoping his touch is some reassurance.

Bobby takes a slow breath, shaking and shallow, and his voice strains. “I don’t deserve you.”

Don doesn’t know what to say. He brushes Bobby’s hair from his face, keeps catching his tears. He would repeat his love over and over if it would be of any help. Before Don can, however, Bobby speaks up again.

“But I’m so happy, god, I’m so lucky I have you.”

Pulling Bobby back into a hug, Don squeezes him tight, rubs his shoulders. “You deserve the world, Bobby. I’m going to make sure you have it.”

Bobby sniffs, kisses the crook of Don’s neck. “You’ve given me that. All that and more.”

Don isn’t sure he’s earned such high praise. It’s Bobby who’s forged this new life for them. He’s the one that washes all of Don’s doubts away. But for Bobby, Don can convince himself that he’s done alright. 

After a few more minutes of just soaking in each other, Bobby finally opens the driver’s door. “Suppose we better,” he says as he peels himself off Don. 

He steps out, unashamed of his appearance as he grabs his discarded clothes from the back seat. Don’s thankful for the quiet parking lot as he takes off his stained hoodie and he waits for Bobby to pull on his jeans and shoes before they head to the elevators. 

Their hands are interlaced the entire way up and when they enter their apartment, Don tugs Bobby into one last kiss. They’re utterly exhausted, they’ll have to talk more in the morning, but for now, they can rest. 

As they crawl into bed, Bobby tucks himself into Don, arm wrapping around his waist. The warmth seeps into Don and he breathes, the world starting to make a little more sense. 

Bobby is his, to love and cherish, and he’ll be damned if anyone takes that away. 

[1horrormoviewhore1]

~HEX GIRLS~

When everyone on the internet thinks you and your band are a coven of witches even Colby's starting to think the rumors are true

It was our last set for our U.S mini tour as the hex girls. Our last leg of shows landed us in our home state of California and Nevada for some of our friends like Colby,Sam, and Kat sam's girlfriend. After this we would go on a 5-6 month hiatus to freak everyone out our adoring fans and it was a pr move to get the sales up for our new album coming out when we got back.

Sam, Colby, and Kat were probably our only true friends. Let's be honest here everyone else in the celebrity and influencer world were a bunch of fakes and then you had that handful of people who were true friends they were actually real towards you no matter what happened, who had your back in the biggest fights so on and so forth.

For us going on this hiatus is risky but the good kind of risky. You have to do what you have to do sometimes in show business even if that means people think your band is a coven of witches I mean it matched the vibe we set out but that doesn't mean we were or do it. I mean when we do witchcraft it isn't even bad just some manifesting among other things like spell jars but that's pretty much it.

People are going around the internet saying we're devil worshippers and satanists and that we eat babies to stay mega young and that's why we have such baby faces. Like no Martha we just do skin care and go to the gym often like the fuck.

Anyway as we get ready to perform a fan favorite song Hex Girl (ironic that it's a fan favorite huh) I see Colby in the crowd with Sam and kat they have white claws in their hands am I surprised no. I give him a little side smirk as the lighting changes and I get ready to sing. I take a little breath in and close my eyes to get ready for the music to play I hear the drums and guitar and I know it's show time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Colbys~pov~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I see Y/n standing there on stage she gives me a little smirk as she closes her eyes and the music starts to play.

"I'm gonna cast a spell on you"

"Oh no it looks like the hex girls have him under their spell Sam " kat giggled as she nudged her boyfriends side with her elbow

"your gonna do what I want you to"

"oh no is right look he's literally drooling over her I've lost my best friend to the witches of the music industry" Sam laughed as he patted me on the back

"mix it up here in my little bowl"

I pull my eyes away from her even if I didn't want to. I looked at Sam and kat

"what did you guys say?" I asked as they looked at me dumbstruck

"say a few words and you lose control"

"oh he really is whipped for her" Sam said as he took a drink of his white claw while tugging kat into his side by her shoulders and she snuggled up into his side

"Im a hex girl and I'm gonna put a spell on you"

"what are you guys talking about I'm not whipped for her" I glared at Sam and kat as they looked at me for a second before laughing at me like I had just said the funniest thing in the world. I scoffed at them and turned back to watch Y/n sing

" Im gonna put a spell on you"

"you guys dont know what you talking about I'm just supporting our friends" I scoffed at them and turned back to watch Y/n sing.

"Im a hex girl and I'm gonna put a spell on you"

Her words echoed in my mind. I don't know if that's how it was supposed to be but it felt like she was staring directly at me as she sang

"You'll feel the fog as I cloud your mind you'll get dizzy when I make the sign"

After she sang those words I felt weightless, like I was floating above the crowd like she put some spell on me I couldn't shake the feeling

"You'll wake up in the dead of night"

After I really let it sink in as I watched her do the sign I could only assume to be the band logo it almost all made sense like she had written this song bout me or what she planned to happen to me

"Missing me when I'm out of sight "

I had liked her ever since I had met her since kat had introduced us at her release party for lala land about ...... Ago she had caught my site as soon as her, her sister daisy, and their band mate dusk

" I'm a hex girl and I'm gonna put a spell on you"

I remember it like it was yesterday kat had introduced us and then we just kinda broke off from the group and stayed in the corner of the room talking and drinking the night away

"I'm gonna put a spell on you"

I felt like I had known her for years after that night like I had just rediscovered an old friend from back home we practically hit it off and we exchanged numbers and now ..... Later as I stood here in the crowd of her show mesmerized by her as she stared at me dead in the eyes

"I'm a hex girl and I'm gonna put a spell on you"

Maybe the rumors online about them being witches were true. I felt weightless like she had me on a string and she had me by her pointer finger and thumb

" With this little cobweb potion"

She kept staring at me , me doing the same not being able to look away it felt like we were connected in some type of special way, maybe she likes me the same way I liked her maybe she wanted to be with me just as bad as I wanted to be with her

" you'll fall into dark devotion"

Her eyes got darker the longer we kept staring at each other just as I felt like something was going to happen she broke eye contact with me and looked off stage at who I could only guess was a stage hand

"if you ever lose affection"

"look who decided to come back down to earth after that insanely tense staring match with his girlfriend" Sam said as he and kat laughed at the teasing at my expense

"I could change your whole direction"

"I was not staring at her" I said with a huff as kat giggled at me

"ya know I could put in a good word for you with her if you really wanted me to" kat said as she put her hand on my shoulder

"Wait you would really do that!?" I said a little too quickly for my liking

"HA I knew he had a crush on her did you see how fast he perked up at that" Sam said as he pointed at me " you owe me 5 bucks my dear Katrina" he said with his hand out

"wait you guys bet on me having a crush on Y/n" I asked

"yep" kat said popping the 'p'

" we sure did brother, so when are you going to grow a pair and ask her out" Sam asked as he pocketed the 5 bucks kat gave him out of her purse

" Im a hex girl and I'm gonna put a spell on you"

"I have no clue to be honest I don't even think she likes me that way" I said as I signed and looked up at the stage catching Y/n's eye once again

"I'm gonna put a spell on you"

She winked and smirked at me as she sang so I could only thank God that the lights were red so Sam and kat couldn't see me blushing at our small interaction

"I'm a hex girl and I'm gonna put a spell on you"

"you should do it after the show at the after party I'm sure we could find some flowers or something at a corner store for her" kat said as she looked at me then to the stage as me and Y/n kept our little staring contest going

"we're gonna put a spell on all of youuu"

As she sang those last words smoke bombs went off in front of her,Daisy, and Dusk as they raised their hands and crossed them over their chests. Then as the smoke cleared everyone cheered as they had seemingly disappeared behind the cover of smoke

As the lights of the venue returned to normal so people wouldn't trip on their way out after the show. All I could think of was what and how I was going to tell Y/n how I have the biggest crush imaginable on her and I've had it since I met her and that I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with her.

[wooziorgans]

fic updates!!

hi gang uh. it’s been a while, so here’s a full list of things that are currently in progress.

please let me know if there are any works that should be prioritized!! I think suck it and see is gonna be first up. no set dates quite yet but,,, that ones short so I’ll probably just drop it unannounced. also most of these are nsfw works. so mdni.

ALSO MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR SMALL THINGS. PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND THEM IN!!!

BULLET POINT IDEAS:

if u saw me reblog a post by @sunshinedeekay , you’ll definitely have seen some of these ideas in their post. it’s not plagerism, we talked abt these ideas together, and my take on them is veryyyyyy woozi centric cus hes the loml.

TTT - couples retreat

joining jihoon and the rest of the members and their partners in a ttt episode of gose

campfire (woozi centric)

sitting around a campfire with svt because it’s that time of year.

grocery store au (woozi centric)

svt members position working at a grocery store.

manager jihoon having such a soft spot for the students working for him.

bss fucking around and breaking a jar of pickles.

SHORTER WORKS:

suck it and see - bf!jihoon x reader

summary: all jihoon had was a simple meeting. the problem is, he looks a little too good in his button up.

warnings: (recently) established relationship. first time together in any sexual way. oral (m. receiving). woozi in a white button-up with his sleeves rolled up. wonwoo and mingyu are kinda?? idk how to explain it but you’ll see. chan has a gf n she’s just kinda there. possessive (but in a healthy?? way?) jihoon. a little throat fucking. hair pulling.

“Y/N,” Jihoon hisses. Y/N whines softly as his grip on their waist tightens. “Angel, I think we should head out.” He says softly, still trying to hold his composure. If there was one thing he wasn’t about to do, it was pop a boner in a room full of his friends. He’d never hear the end of it. But the way Y/N sat so nicely on his lap, with their ass rubbing against his cock every time they moved— god, it was so hard to keep his hormones in check.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t talked about sex before. They had, multiple times, when make out sessions got a little too heated and Jihoon was left hard as a rock. The relationship was a little too new for them to ever get farther than feeling each other up. It was a very hard line that Y/N chose to draw in the sand, and Jihoon respected it. Something about tonight was different.

Y/N’s grip on his forearm tightened, thumb brushing against the fabric that had been rolled up. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” They ask quietly, answer given before it’s even verbalized in the way his thumb circles their hip.

“No, god, never. But I’m thinking about things that would get me put on a watch list so that I don’t… y’know.” Jihoon presses a soft kiss to the base of their neck. “I just don’t want to be like this around the guys.” He laughs, but it’s strained. Just like how the fabric of his pants has started to feel. Y/N shifts again to test the water, and boy, is it tested.

when? - geto!woozi x ex jujutsu sorcerer!reader

summary: it’s been ten years since jihoon was banished from jujutsu tech. it’s been ten years since he slaughtered an entire village at the age of seventeen. it’s been ten years since y/n last saw him.

warmings: angst. hurt/comfort. jujutsu kaisen au. kind of post-breakup au. a little bit of a soulmate au if you squint. mega jujustu kaisen spoilers. woozi as geto. long haired woozi. mentions of massacring a village (if you’re familiar w jjk you know what im talking about). unresolved issues. unrequited love (kinda?). attempted murder kinda. hoshi as gojo. dialogue heavy.

The deep swell of the clouds overhead black out the sky. They swirl, angry, as they weep. A storm is brewing deep within them. The low rumble of thunder shakes the apartment building. Tonight is a night full of pain for the sky.

It’s equally as painful for Y/N.

The sharp knock on the door this late into the evening disturbs them. Y/N holds the cup of tea they were in the middle of making as they walk towards to door.

It’s most likely a solicitor, but to be out in this weather? They must be desperate. The knocks sound again; they must be really desperate. “One second!” Y/N calls, walking the few feet to the door. They swing it open forcefully, pissed off as the knocks echo once again.

Lee Jihoon stands on the other side of it. He looks older now. Out of reflex and shock, Y/N moves to slam the door closed. Jihoon slides a foot into the crack. He winces as it slams into the side of his shoe.

“Can I come in?” He’s beaten to all hell. Scratches cover parts of Jihoon’s face and arms, the blood flowing out of them mixed with the rain. He’s soaked, shivering softly with hair stuck to his forehead.

Y/N nearly drops their cup of tea, hand tightening around the door handle. It shakes as they pull it open more. “Um, yeah. I guess.” Jihoon slips inside, feet tracking in water. He’s considerate enough to slip his shoes off, but his socks are equally as wet.

lunch - seokmin x reader

summary: listening to an album with y/n’s boyfriend unlocks something in him. something almost dangerous for seokmin, and the best possible thing for y/n.

or, seokmin wants to be a better boyfriend. he’s fine as is, but it doesn’t hurt to start taking his partner out to lunch and craving a second course once they’re at home.

no teaser available at the moment but…. u get the idea.

drown - wonwoo x reader

summary: wonwoo wants to help his best friend; he really does. but things are so much harder to understand with a heavy heart of his own. so y/n explains what’s going on in terms he’ll get.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to ???. mentions of others drinking (specifically chan. this is not an accurate representation of how i see chan, i love him). brief mentions of reader n chan in a rlly complicated situation ship. stress, feelings of depression, etc. just both of em going through a rlly hard time :((( reader n wonwoo r passing a vape back n forth throughout this.

“Woo,” Y/N exhales, pulling the blanket over their chest, “I don’t even know what to say.” They lay their head on his chest, closing their eyes softly. They try to push back the tears, but the pressure is overwhelming.

“It’s okay. Take your time.” Wonwoo coos, wrapping his arm tighter around their shoulders.

“I just— I feel so stupid for even thinking that I had a chance.” They exhale slowly. “Like, I can never be first place against someone who doesn’t even care about him.” The tears they had been holding back for the last ten minutes slowly begin to fall as they open their eyes again.

Immediately, Wonwoo knows what Y/N is talking about. Their over complicated situation-ship had been a heavy topic that hung in the air for most of the last week. Wonwoo knew as soon as he entered the apartment that something was off. When the soft, hesitant knocks bounced off his door into his room, he knew.

He opened his door; to the soft call of his name from a shaking voice, and eyes that seemed to be brimming with tears. His body moved to usher Y/N into his room, to bring them to his bed and tuck them in as they both leaned against the headboard and held each other.

“Chan’s on the phone,” Y/N said flatly, face burning red as they struggled to speak.

“I know,” Wonwoo whispered into the air.

“With her.” They closed their eyes, suddenly hyper aware of their own heart beat.

“I know.” Wonwoo sighed, arm wrapping around their shoulders. He hated this; this look of pity on Y/N’s face, their eyes so wet from holding it together. The hesitance in their voice; something Wonwoo never heard in it. They were always so confident, so optimistic. It was gone entirely.

FULL LENGTH FICS:

abstract - idol!jihoon x reader

professor lee is a fantastic teacher. above all, he is a knowledgeable old man who is incredibly passionate about his job and his students. he enjoys dancing, bad karaoke, eating lunch with his students, writing with expensive pens, teaching and talking about his family. and he is about to give his last class, not because he’s retiring, but because he’s terminal. he doesn’t expect to make it to the end of the semester. y/n loves the philosophy class taught by professor lee. this year’s class is different. this year, the students enrolled in professor lee’s philosophy classes will learn about life and death, but the most important lesson y/n learned comes in the form of their professors son; jihoon.

current warning list: gn!reader. afab!reader. implied bi!reader. very brief reader x female oc. college stuff (academics, drinking, jihoon smokes cigarettes). mentions of issues with food/not eating. major character death. homophobia, heartbreak, life lessons. philosophy talk. grieving. hella hurt/comfort. this has a happy ending i swear.

The earth seems very far away. Wherever the two of them are right now, home seems so far away. It’s a very small dot compared to the rest of the vast and dark universe. Whatever is here, it shares the darkness and the emptiness of the vacuum of space. Whether it was a moment of total dissociation, or just shock, nothing seems quite real to Jihoon. The room is no longer spinning, but it feels just as fuzzy. His eyes feel bleary and heavy from crying, which he has also stopped doing. He watches from the front porch as his father is carried into the back of a hearse, Y/N held tightly to his side.

It’s cold, and the sun has begun to set. The glow of the afternoon is long gone. His mother and cousin are almost nonexistent in this moment. The only thing that really grounds him to the earth is the warmth of Y/N’s body inside his jacket. Their arms are crossed to keep the heat in. Jihoon tightens his hold on their bare arm.

It’s beautiful, he recognizes. The clouds are deep shades of purple; it’s an unusual occurrence for this time of year. ‘It’s just like him,’ He thinks, ‘to pick the most beautiful day to die.’ The hearse drives off and no one moves. No one speaks. The wind has even seemed to stop blowing; the earth has gone completely silent.

end of beginning - fbi agent!jihoon x detective!reader

summary: decorated detective Lee Jihoon transfers to the NYPD to catch yet another deranged serial killer. The only difference this time is his set of colleagues, and his unbridled hatred for one of them.

warnings: jun is dead as hell in this fic (he was readers old partner n died in a shootout) I am so sorry for this one seriously oh my god. if it’s any consolation, it’s only talked about n he doesn’t die during the fic. GRAPHIC depictions of violence, murder, bodily mutilation, getting shot; generally pls just be aware that this is a fic abt chasing down a serial killer in new york. woozi is such an asshole in the first little bit of this fic but he has his reasons. enemies to lovers. coworkers to lovers. ANGST. smut. fluff.

“You want me as an equal? Then start doing half the fucking work!” He snapped. God, how easy it would be to draw their gun right now and take him down a peg, Y/N thought. The intrusiveness of the thought made their body run cold.

Sure, Jihoon has always been an asshole, but shooting him? I’m getting far too invested in this. Y/N thought again, swallowing harshly. They let out a shaky breath, deciding to not say anything to counter him. This profile was hard. It had been two months, with five separate incidents and they had nothing.

“What? Nothing? Have I finally gotten you to shut up?” Jihoon sneered, a smirk falling onto his face. Any chance at silencing themselves was gone now.

“I really, really fucking hate your guts Lee. If it wasn’t for this fucking case I would happily never see you again. You’re self-centred and cocky, and frankly, you’ve contributed fuck all to this investigation. We’re two months in, both of us of the two most decorated detectives in North America. We have nothing. Don’t you dare fucking lecture me about putting in the work when the stakes are so high.” Y/N’s hands gripped their hair, pulling it harshly as they paced to the other side of the room. “I’m not about to lose another partner, not again.” It sounded like a sob.

“Feelings mutual.” Jihoon states, pushing open the glass door of the room and leaving. He swallows harshly as he exits, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He’d gone too far, and for the very first time, his argument with Y/N had left him with a sour taste in his mouth and the all too familiar feeling of guilt in his stomach.

when we’re both thirty - producer!jihoon x reader

summary: after writing a contract while drunk in college that detailed if both parties were still single by the time they were thirty they would get married, jihoon and y/n forget about it. nine years and one divorce later, jihoon finds himself on y/n’s doorstep begging for forgiveness and a place to stay. the only issue is, he realizes his feelings four years too late.

current warnings: so much angst. unrequited love. friends to strangers to ??? to ???? to lovers. four years of silence from jihoon. broken heart syndrome. reader struggling hardcore w depression after the unofficial official breakup. bss bestie shenanigans. hoshi is the mvp here. hoshi calls jihoons ex wife a whore at one point. (more to be determined. this one is still in the beginning stages)

“I’m taking Y/N home.” Soonyoung pats his friend on the shoulder twice. Jihoon’s mouth falls open softly, a look of confusion on his face.

“Why? Is everything okay?” He can’t help but worry, despite his new bride glaring at the concern on his face. “Are they okay?” Soonyoung nods curtly.

“Um, they just don’t feel well. They’re in my car right now.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but the tears they had been holding back all night were getting closer and closer to spilling. The last thing Y/N wanted was to be accused of ruining Jihoon’s wedding by crying.

He was still their best friend after all. Even if being in love with him felt like getting their heart ripped out through their throat, it was still his big day. Even if Seokmin had to calm them down in the bathroom, the family bathroom, and they received strange looks from the group of strangers who saw both of them exit it, it was Jihoon’s day. Y/N wanted nothing more than for this day to be a happy one, to be the last day where they could say they loved him.

But things didn’t work out like that.

All it did was twist the knife deeper, puncture holes in their lungs that made it impossible to breathe.

pride and dignity - idol!jihoon x male!soloist!reader

summary: jihoon’s managed to keep his private life out of the media for the last ten years. however, his first ever scandal is a dating scandal; and even worse, one with another man. with the mistake of going out for drinks and getting a little too touchy, jihoon has to navigate all of the speculation on his sexuality, and his growing feelings for the other person caught in the middle of it all.

warnings: m!reader, but i use they/them for reader in this fic bcs it’s easier to distinguish reader from woozi that way. i grew up writing gay fan fiction, i am using they/them for reader out of pure convenience to keep my shit straight. hoshi n lee soohyuk r together. woozi is gay. he likes men in this bad boy. dating scandal. mild homophobia. lots of sex talk. this is really just porn with a lot of plot. plot with a little porn??? idk. this is so angsty my lord. woozi is a TEASE in this oh dear. a little dialogue heavy in some places. soft n tender woozi makes his return!!. reader has a little bit of anxiety. did i mention angst. angst. pledis statements. that’s a warning in and of itself.

Jihoon’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he stares at his phone. The photos of them that were leaked looked incredibly intimate. Jihoon’s arm is wrapped around Y/N’s waist, a tender smile on his lips. He looks like he’s in love. He was just drunk.

Still, the soft expression on his face is noted in the headline of the article. Woozi and Y/N Entangled in Gangnam. Jihoon feels sick.

Entangled. That they most certainly were. This is what he was afraid of: his personal life intertwining with his professional career.

The call from his manager comes soon after. Jihoon sinks into his couch as his manager rambles on about how detrimental this scandal could be to his career. Jihoon knows. He knows better than anyone what this could mean for not only him but Y/N.

Y/N’s in a much worse position; they said it themselves, being gay is a death sentence in the K-Pop industry. Especially when you’re new to it.

“I can confirm that the person in the photos is Y/N. As for the circumstances surrounding the photos, I won’t comment on any rumours or speculation. All I can say is that Y/N and I remain committed to our work and professional relationship moving forward.” Jihoon keeps his words calculated and careful as his manager asks for an official statement. Pledis was taking a new approach with this scandal, and hearing from the source was what they deemed best.

He had no idea how Y/N’s company would handle it. Jihoon only hoped that they wouldn’t be too hard on them.

But he knows.

He knows any way it’s dealt with will hurt Y/N’s career. Jihoon feels like he’s going to throw up.

statute of limitations - criminal defense lawyer/single dad!seokmin x neighbour!reader

summary: getting a new neighbour is always an experience. getting a hot single dad right across the hall I n even better experience.

tags: jeongcheol canonically. lawyer/roommate!jeonghan, mentions of wack crimes/assault (cus they’re lawyers). more tags to be added here as well.

“Hi.” He smiles, opening the door wide enough for Y/N to step into his apartment. “What brings you here at this hour?” His smile is still so bright, despite the fatigue on his face and the hour of the day.

“Sorry.” Y/N looks down. “I needed to get way from Jeonghan for a bit. Is it okay if I come in for a bit? I promise I won’t keep you up much longer.” Y/N looks back up at him, smiling softly, eyebrows raised slightly to make their eyes look bigger.

“Course,”

“I seriously thought about strangling him. He just gets on nerves about certain things and it’s so—“ Seokmin laughs.

“I’m not too sure if you should be confessing your violent impulses to a criminal defence lawyer, angel.” He coos, setting the glasses onto coasters on his coffee table. He grabs his glasses from the table, slipping them onto his face before he finally leans back onto the couch. There’s very little space between the two of them.

how do you talk to a star? - PREQUEL TO HOW TO KILL THE SUN

summary and tags are a work in progress so here is a little teaser.

Ah, yes. The origins of the nickname angel.

Jihoon was babysitting once again as the rest of his friends drank. The booth in the bar was crammed full of people, most of them eating half as much as they drank. It was one of the rare times he had agreed to go out without being forced; this making it a cause for celebration.

“You’ll babysit me, right?” Soonyoung asked, an hour earlier when he wasn’t drunk. Jihoon huffed, nodding reluctantly. He rolled his eyes, not exactly happy to spend his Friday night watching Soonyoung cry in another alcohol induced breakdown.

A gentle pat to his thigh pulls him out of his dissociation. “You okay?” Y/N asks, nursing another glass of god knows what. He looks up from the table to them. He hums softly.

“Mm, yeah. Just spaced out a bit.” He laughs quietly, thought it sounds a little forced.

“You sure? You’ve been spacing out a lot recently.” Y/N rests their hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. Jihoon’s heart swells a little at the action. Most people leave him to his own devices in situations like this. They let him deal with the overstimulation on his own. Y/N? Y/N’s a little different when it comes to these things.

“Yeah. Just a little tired.” His hand slides over Y/N’s, giving it a soft squeeze.

“If you want, I’m sure no one would be upset if we left.” Y/N starts, brushing the fabric of his jeans in an attempt to soothe him. It works.

“No. You’re having a good time; I’m just a little spaced out but I’m fine here.” He gives a small smile to them as they rest their head against his shoulder. It was definitely the alcohol in Y/N’s system that made such an action so easy for them.

role model is also on this list. i got extraordinarily busy and didn’t end up finishing it on time, and life kinda got busy and i couldn’t write anything happy for a while but i swear i will finish it!

these won’t be out for a while, I think this is my fic plan for the rest of the year tbh. but if anyone has any suggestions or requests for something shorter that they want to see, again, please feel free to send them in!!!

[danmei-described]

[ID: MDZS comics. The first is two pages, titled "Discussion Conference at Jinlintai". Lan Jingyi is saying, "Ugh. Ever since the Young Mistress became Sect Leader, he's become 10 times more annoying. Those roobes are gaudy as hell... and what's up with that awful headpiece?" Lan Sizhui replies, "Jingyi, it's not nice to talk about people behind their back..." Jingyi says, "You're right, Sizhui. Sorry." He inhales dramatically, then puts his hands around his mouth and screams, "JIN LING! Your ourfit sucks ass and your hair looks like shit!!!" Jin Ling screams back, "Do you wanna die!?" and Lan Sizhui buries his face in his hands and quietly says, "Jin-zongzhu, please put your sword away..."

The remaining images are one comic, focused on Jingyi and Sizhui. Jingyi bursts into Sizhui's room and says, "Sizhui!! Hanguang-jun and Wei-qianbei are out so I broke into the jingshi." A horrified Sizhui interrupts him to say, "YOU WHAT." Jingyi continues, "I broke into the jingshi, did you not hear me the first time? Anyways I found this fucked up incense burner hahahaha like what even is that." The tapir incense burner is shown. Sizhui says, "You... you stole" but Jingyi keeps talking over him: "Let's use it!!! If Wei-qianbei was hiding it, it's definitely got some cool magical powers!!"

A doodle shows that Jingyi and Sizhui have both passed out, the incense burner's smoke clouding the air around them. They have thought bubbles extending into a shared dream, which shows a house with lamps hung on the corners of the roof. Sizhui says, "Where are we? Did the incense burner teleport us?" Jingyi says, "Hey, I know this place!! It's where we stayed the night after the whole Xue Yang thing in Yi City!!!"

Sizhui says, "Ah, you're right! I remember now!" Jingyi has a smile as he reminisces, "Man I miss the food from here... wish we didn't have to be vegetarians in Gusu." Looking inside the building, the two of them see a copy of Jingyi sitting at a table piled with chicken and a jar of wine, eating. Sizhui says, "Jingyi, why are there two of you?" and Jingyi exclaims, "No way!!! This thing does teleportation AND cloning???" Sizhui nervously remarks, "He's eating... a lot of chicken..."

Jingyi has a realization and says, "I got it!!!" Sizhui looks at him curiously. "The incense burner takes you into your dreams!!!" Dream-Jingyi is still eating chicken, a pile of bones set aside on the table. Sizhui says, "This is what you dream about?" and Jingyi replies, "Yea." A text box informs us, "They watched Dream-Jingyi eat chicken for 2 hours straight."

The dream turns to smoke around them. Sizhui says, "Oh, the dream is shifting." Jingyi puts a hand to his chin and thinks, "Are we gonna see Sizhui's dream now? Knowing him, I bet it's something cute and fluffy like feeding Hanguang-jun's rabbits..." The dream solidifies into a dark, gloomy landscape, dead trees sticking out of the ground. It's the Burial Mounds. Corpses are walking around. Sizhui exclaims, "This must be my dream!" and a frightened Jingyi yells, "You mean nightmare!?" He clings to Sizhui, shaking and thinking, "I want to leave!!!" Sizhui remains completely calm, smiling as he says, "Since I got my memories back, I've been dreaming about my childhood home more often." Jingyi thinks, "Childhood home?!!!?" In the dream, a groaning corpse chases a young Wen Yuan, who laughs and exclaims "Wheee". Sizhui says, "Oh, it's me."

In the dream, Wei Wuxian leans against a tree, playing a tune on Chenqing. Jingyi exclaims, "Is that... Wei-qianbei?!" and Sizhui happily answers, "Yeah he used to command the fierce corpses to play tag w/ me". Suddenly a rock hits Dream-Wuxian in the head. He shouts, "OW!" Jingyi says, "Did someone just. Hit the Yiling Laozu with a rock." Sizhui exclaims, "It's Qing-jiejie!" In the dream, Wei Wuxian shouts, "Wen Qing!!! What was that for?!!" and Wen Qing, holding needles, says, "How many times did I ask you to go harvest the radishes?!! Don't blame me if I start throwing needles next!" Next to them, the corpse is flat on the ground, collapses because Wei Wuxian stopped playing. Wen Yuan looks at it and says "Ah."

Sizhui smiles and says, "Just being here makes my heart feel all warm and fuzzy." Jingyi looks at him like he's lost his mind. Dream-Wen Qing menaces Dream-Wuxian, who is on his knees picking radishes and crying, "Ok, ok!! I'm picking the radishes!! Put your needles away!!!" Wen Yuan is being chased by a corpse again, now riding on Wen Ning's shoulders, holding a toy butterfly. Jingyi and Sizhui observe the scene. Jingyi says "Sizhui..." and Sizhui answers, "Hm?" Then Jingyi says, "...Your family is so weird." Sizhui is silent. /end ID]

[memento-morianon]

chapter 19

masterpost of excerpts over here

don't mind the bullet point summary style of this chapter, my brain was not providing good narrative descriptions and i needed to move forward.

---

Sitla woke him twice in the middle of the night, shoving her nose against his arm and barking softly by his ear. His dreams were muddled and shadowy, but left his heart racing like a frightened animal. The exhaustion lingered with him through the day, and the work to be done was tedious, doing nearly nothing to distract him.

He fiddled with his feathers, pinching the keratin off his long tail feathers and sighing in relief as it came off easily in his hands. Finding a quiet corner at lunch, he peeled the feathers free, shaking them out and admiring their rich green color and soft texture. Unlike the majority of the feathers on his body, these two draped like ribbons and trailed behind him in a gentle, floaty way. He picked them up and carefully rolled them into loops he could attach to his belt, free at last to walk around without worrying that they'd hit anyone. The feathers on his spine were equally ready to shed their sheaths, but he couldn't reach them so easily on his own and Evarin was so far away, home without him. He didn't dare ask anyone else to remove the keratin from his back, and even the thought of it made him shiver uncomfortably.

He pushed aside his itching thoughts and tried to stay focused, helping identify key areas around the dig site where they could start their excavations and hopefully find a few artifacts. He had been right; the day felt achingly long, and the combination of cloud cover and a thick forest canopy made the daylight dim and difficult to track. There was a collective sigh of joy when Parva came by their site and told them to wrap it up so they could be ready for the dinner party. Feet that had been shuffling around tiredly were suddenly able to hurry down the road to the camp. The air buzzed with chatter, everyone pondering on their own questions about the centaurs and their customs.

[transition to Mori and K'arik changing in their tent. Mori only needs to put on a cleaner set of clothes, but K'arik is putting on some more formal things, to display his rank.]

Morianon reached around his wings, pinching at the feathers on his spine to tug at their keratin sheaths. He could only reach the top and bottom feathers, leaving several in the middle to mock him with their itching. In his frustration, he took out his jar of pixie honey and opened it, but before he could take a fingerful he heard K'arik sniffing behind him.

K'arik's shadow fell over him and he hurriedly hid the jar again, peeking sheepishly over his shoulder. K'arik was frowning.

"Why do you have that?" he signed. Morianon turned around but kept his wings tight around his body.

"Courting season, remember?" he signed back snappishly, "don't tell me you wouldn't eat it by the handful if you spent half the year feeling like a dog in heat." He raised his eyebrows emphatically and K'arik crinkled his snout, ears turning back.

"No, you're right," he admitted, "it would be horrible."

"It helps with the itchy feathers too," Morianon added, twitching the gold fan on his back.

"Do you want me to help? I know your back is sensitive, but maybe I can just remove the sheaths, so it won't itch as bad?" K'arik pinched the air and tilted his head. Morianon hummed and flicked his wings.

"Be gentle," he signed and then quickly turned his back to K'arik, flexing the little muscles that raised the gold fan. He shivered at the feeling of K'arik's large fingers combing through the soft feathers and pulling at the keratin. His body didn't care who was touching him, latching on to the arousing sensation. He forced it down, pushing it aside and into someone else's hands with a silent apology. While K'arik preened his feathers, he opened his honey jar again and consumed a little scoop of it, rolling the thick substance over his tongue. It had a stronger flavor than the honey produced by smaller bees, something floral and a little earthy, and so sweet it made his teeth ache. He swallowed it and sighed as the itching on his back and the heat building in his navel cooled and faded. K'arik's hands retreated from his feathers soon after.

"Thank you," Morianon signed. K'arik nodded, but frowned down at the flaky mess on the tent floor. Morianon swept it aside with his wing, crouching and gently flapping until he had brought most of it to the door of the tent. K'arik snorted a laugh as he watched.

"Alright, I suppose that works," he signed, "have you heard the call to leave yet?"

"No, we're still on time," Morianon replied. He opened the door and shooed the mess of keratin out with a quick flap. "Ready to go?"

"Yes."

[so they go and everyone gathers up and the centaurs lead them to their main settlement for the welcoming party]

The centaurs led them to an enormous clearing that reminded Morianon of the plaza back home, where festivals were held. Warm lights hung on ropes between the largest trees, matching the glow of the sunset that could be seen overhead. It would have felt like home, between the trees and the comforting light and the anticipation of a feast, if not for the fact that everything around them was so huge it even made K'arik look like a small child in comparison. The broadest trees were hollowed out with doorways so tall and wide they could have been tunnels for wagons. Centaurs surrounded the group on every side, watching them curiously. They wore layers of draped cloth, held on by wide belts. Most of them only wore one or two layers, simple but woven with intricate patterns. Others wore more decorative things; strings of wooden beads, woven headdresses, and carefully arranged flowers.

The archaeologists were brought to a set of benches and tables that looked more roughly hewn than the carved wood lights above or the hollowed out tree buildings. Each table and bench seemed to be half a log and little more, but smoothed enough to be comfortable. Everyone sat, still gazing at the architecture and lighting in awe.

[my brain is not giving me the writing juice, so i gotta summarize a bit]

K'arik sits with his interpreters and the heads of the expedition while Mori sits near his friend Xulic and the rest of the team.

there is a crowd of centaurs here, many of them hanging back and watching cautiously. the elders who welcomed the archaeology team into the forest are standing at what looks like the head of the clearing, perhaps a stage for performances. on either side of this stage there are carvings of the centaur deities. one deity looks like a centaur with deformed limbs and a small second head attached to the back of their own, holding an infant which is partly a skeleton. the other deity looks like two centaurs merged into one balanced figure, with four arms and two full heads, posed more fiercely and holding a spear. these will at some point be explained to the archaeologists as the deities of death and defense; the withered twins and the perfected twins.

Amahr is brought forward by the elders as the archaeologists settle down. i-hir welcomes them more formally now, properly introducing i-hirself as a lead diplomat for i-hir people. Amahr thanks the archaeologists for their presence, expressing appreciation for their work and the knowledge they might share with the centaurs as they study the dig sites the centaurs have avoided for their own reasons. Amahr introduces the centaur historians and their young translators in more detail as well, though I don't have any names for them yet. I think I should make some of them disabled because centaurs do have a much higher rate of birth deformities than other people, due to their unique and unusual biology.

the historians are introduced as having done a lot of work to restore centaur artifacts from before the conflicts and rediscovering some of the old migrational trails that were abandoned and forgotten in the past.

the translators are also given a spotlight, as their efforts to learn the language of the outside world is one of the main reasons such a large group of visitors was even invited here. There were only six translators mentioned before, but as they're all gathered together now it's clear that they actually have quite a large group of more than a dozen young centaurs taking shifts to help translate. Amahr invites one of them forward and they explain that they learned this language thanks to the efforts of K'arik's grandfather He-esh, who was able to connect them with the people of that gnomish city just outside the forest so they could arrange language classes where the young centaurs venture out of their home territory to meet with teachers. Morianon is impressed to hear this, wishing he had spent more time talking to He-esh before as'els death, so he could have learned about all this.

Parva and her companions have a chance to speak as well, and they reiterate their gratitude for the invitation to be here. it is a great honor and opportunity.

with the formalities now out of the way, the elders announce that the feast will begin. a group of centaurs bring food to the visitors' table, carried in wooden dishes. the centaurs around the clearing all organize themselves into lines going through some of the trees that have been carved out, where they pick up their own dishes of food and then arrange themselves around the clearing in casual groups, talking amongst themselves. the centaurs do not use tables for themselves, holding a bowl of food in one hand and using the other hand to pick up their food, or simply lifiting the bowls up to eat more directly.

Morianon is a little honey-high, so he's pretty mellow through all of this, but he's still excited to see what foods the centaurs are serving, even though he's sure it will all be stuff he can't easily consume. since his nose is screwed up and I need to remember that detail, I probably shouldn't describe the smells too much. his olfactory organs are intact, but he wears a nasal plug/prosthetic and this might impede his ability to smell things. However, he can see the steam wafting out of the bowls, and he leans forward alongside his coworkers, peering at the food with great interest.

there are of course some dishes that are basically just salad. leaves, petals, and bits of dried fruit coated in some manner of sauce. There are also large flower buds stuffed with minced mushrooms. Edible roots and vines or stems which Morianon can't identify are steamed and arranged like a dish of noodles. young fern fiddleheads, green pinecones, and a wide variety of sprouts. but much to Morianon's astonishment, as well as the astonishment of everyone around him, there are also eggs and fish in their meals. not just on the side, as if they were an afterthought, not questionably raw or poorly cooked, but just as a regular part of the meal. intentional. the eggs resemble the ones Morianon is used to seeing from the domestic grouse back home, though they look absurdly small compared to the centaurs' hands. they're served in a few ways. whole and boiled, shells intact but discolored with a crackle effect as if they had been slightly crushed and soaked in a marinade. cutting open a stuffed flower bud, Xulic discovers there are bits of egg in with the mushrooms. and Morianon suspects the sauce on the root/vine dish might be partly made with eggs (like on pasta carbonara)

the addition of fish is more astonishing than the eggs though. there are whole roasted fish, which Morianon recognizes as a species of ocean fish. there are also long strips of fish arranged in curls on skewers, wrapped with some tuberous root vegetable. Looking around, Morianon realizes that the centaurs are, in fact, eating the eggs and fish quite casually. One of the translators near the long table looks very amused at their guests' reaction to the presence of eggs and fish in their feast.

"Did you think we only ate plants?" they ask, squinting in amusement and perking their ears. Morianon falters and blushes slightly, ducking his head in embarrassment. the centaur laughs. "We do not eat these things—" they gesture at the eggs and fish— "as often as you do, but they are good for us." they watch on, still very humored, as the archaeologists eat. though as they watch Morianon, who mostly picks from the fish dishes, they pause and look mildly concerned. "forgive me," they lean forward to address him directly, "are you comfortable with the egg dishes?" now it's Morianon's turn to laugh.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I've eaten eggs before, it's not a problem for me."

just a fun little interaction there. the centaurs consume eggs and fish in small quantities because protein is a very important nutrient. being sapient megafauna, the centaurs have very large brains that require a lot more calories and nutrients than they can reasonably get by only consuming plants. on further questioning about the source of the eggs, it turns out the centaurs are indeed using the same grouse that elves domesticated, though this centaur does not know how they came to have these birds in the first place. Mori asks more about the fish and learns that the centaurs do travel to the coast near their forest to catch the fish, which are lured in by a kelp grove the centaurs have cultivated. the centaur points out some of the greens in the dishes and explains that those are not all land plants, but a mixture of land plants and kelp or other water plants like river grass. centaurs are primarily tree browsers, but they're not particularly picky eaters because they're enormous and need all the nutrition they can get from any source available.

as the feasting settles a bit, the centaurs announce their entertainment for the night. they have music and dancing to perform for their guests. the translators arrange themselves behind the table to help explain things and answer questions between performances. I don't know yet all of the performances that will be done, but it can't be too many because I have to describe them all. I can think of two main dances I want to show though.

first is a pair dance. The centaurs put great importance on the bonding and synchronicity of the centaurs who pull wagons and carts and such. so a few pair-bonded centaurs, dressed in decorative harness that attaches them to each other, perform a dance that displays their skills as partners. since they are attached by their harnesses, any misstep would trip them both up. they move as one, every step. their hooves on the stage are also a percussive instrument, creating unique rhythms beneath the music provided by a small group of centaurs who are singing or playing large wooden flutes that have a warm deep tone to them. Morianon is reminded of the dance stage in the orc village, and he casts a glance to K'arik, who is unable to hear the music but watches the dance with a bright enthusiasm in his eyes.

a stroi near Morianon momentarily comments that it reminds them of the dances they've performed with their own bonded partner, and Morianon does recognize the scars on one side of their face as a symbol of paired hunters. but the stroi halts their words suddenly to give the centaur translator an embarrassed and apologetic look. the centaur snorts and shakes their head, saying something like "we are aware that many people still hunt for food." just a bit of tension there.

the second dance I've thought up is a very sacred one. the centaurs are being quite generous to allow outsiders to view this dance, and one of the translators explains that it was the dancers themselves who insisted on performing for this feast. there are only three dancers, all of them being the rare sort of centaur who is born without a twin. most centaurs are conceived as twins who become merged in the womb. the translators quietly explain this as the dance begins. one twin is dominant for a lifetime, and then when they die they switch places and are reborn. those who do not have a twin must spend their lives in prayer and rituals trying to reconnect with their lost twin's soul so they can be properly reunited after death. these centaurs only have four limbs and one normal ribcage, essentially just being sapient chalicotheres. they dance slowly, in a much more subdued manner than the exciting display of skill from the previous dancers. the translators explain that the song lyrics are a prayer to the Withered Twins, the deity who mediates between the living and the disembodied. the dance reaches out to the lost twins and feels for their response, which is shown in the way each dancer does their own thing, moving in ways that seem a little random. it's a very reverent performance.

there will be a third dance of some sort, which Morianon watches with a repressed urge to get up and join. he's still rather mellow from the pixie honey, but he yearns to dance. he keeps his hands clenched on Sitla's leash, but he can't help the way his golden fan twitches upward. as he watches this third dance, another more exciting one after the solemn performance of the twinless centaurs, he feels Sitla at his feet suddenly stand up, and he hears her give a soft woof of warning, but he's too distracted to respond quickly and everyone else is also too focused on the performance to notice the sneaky lil fella coming in from behind.

Morianon leaned forward, enraptured. The dancers' costumes flared with every quick turn or leap, sashes and strings of beads whipping through the air. The fan on his back shivered, soft gold feathers lifting slightly. He forced his wings to stay still and clenched his toes around each other, fighting back the urge to join in. It would be rude, he reminded himself, this was not the time or place for him to show off his own dance.

At his feet, between the bench and table, Sitla sat upright and whuffed, quiet and restrained but rather stern. Morianon frowned down at her and shushed her with a prodding foot before he returned his attention to the dance. Something brushed against his wings, and he scooted forward, turning to see who was passing so closely behind him. Sharp pricking pain sent his mind into a spiral, dark memories piercing through the honeyed fog with a startling jolt. He yelped and hopped to his feet, whirling around fearfully with his wings and fan flared defensively. All around him, he could hear surprised gasps and shouts reacting to his sudden movement, even causing the musicians to falter and the guards around the clearing to charge forward. morianon's eyes fell on the culprit who had plucked his feathers, his thoughts spiraling and the old griefs and fears of his childhood clawing their way forward in retaliation.

It was a child. A centaur child, tall as an elf, wide-eyed and legs sprawled as they jerked backwards away from Morianon. A handful of green feathers were stuck between their lips. Behind them, an adult centaur rushed through the trees from some other location, pulling the child back with a forefoot and hurriedly rambling out what Morianon assumed was an apology. He forced the fear and anguish back and stepped forward, tucking his wings and golden fan back to relaxed positions, giving the frightened child a gentle smile and holding out his hands.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and then turned to the nearest translator, who looked as surprised as he was. "can you tell them I'm sorry? I didn't mean to react so loudly, I think I scared them."

"Scared the child?" the translator laughed in relief, "they scared you first!" they shook their head and spoke to the centaur who had come through the trees, and then leaned down to address the child. The little one looked confused, still staring at Morianon like he was a ghost. He crouched, making himself small and hopefully less intimidating. His coworkers began to chuckle and talk quietly amongst themselves, passing along an explanation to those who couldn't see what was going on. the other centaurs around the clearing seemed to be doing the same, and the guards who had charged in looked rather embarrassed when they saw it was only a child sneaking into the feast and causing a fuss.

"Did you think I was a leafy bush?" Morianon asked the child, ignoring the dull throb of pain where his feathers had been plucked. The translator mediated between them, and the child finally broke their gaze from Morianon to mumble something at the translator, finally letting the feathers fall to the ground. Their caretaker was red in the face, still panting slightly from their sprint to catch the wayward child.

"They did think you were made of leaves," the translator told Morianon. "and their guardian is sorry for letting this one wander away. the little ones have been staying in a safe place, away from the feast, but this one escaped." They shook their head bemusedly and the child dropped their gaze to the ground, shrinking back between their guardian's legs. they hummed and crouched down awkwardly to pick up the fallen feathers, holding them out apologetically. Morianon took them and nodded, biting back a laugh.

"Thank you," he said, tucking the feathers into a pocket. the child still looked nervous, but their eyes traced the curve of his wings with a gleam of curiosity. their guardian shooed them towards the trees, saying something to the translator before guiding the child away and back where they had come from.

"It won't happen again," the translator conveyed to Morianon, "and they wish you well."

"Alright," Morianon replied, sitting properly on the bench once more, "that was an exciting little distraction, wasn't it?" he laughed, releasing the tension that had built in his chest. his coworkers echoed the laugh, letting it flow through them and out to the whole clearing. the centaurs joined in and began to chatter, and the music and dance restarted, picking up where it had been interrupted. The air filled with a new feeling of friendly humor, all the centaurs who had been lingering at the edge of the clearing finally moving inward to more fully join the crowd.

after this, the feast can wrap up. the centaurs thank their guests for coming and they are led back to their camp.

since I will be rearranging this section of the story, so the feast happens before any work at the dig sites, the dig site scenes will also be edited down to more of a montage until something more interesting finally happens. digging for artifacts and such is not a quick and easy endeavor. Morianon will be more cautious with his medicinal herbs and honey, especially as K'arik does not always leave the tent before him and he's now worried that K'arik will notice the lingering smell of the herbs if he even opens the jar. so he's mostly relying on the herbs in his fish snacks, which he only has a limited amount of. it's not as strong as the properly fermented herbs, especially when they've been steeped in hot water with honey, but it will have to do for now. as a result though, he is more unstable than he'd like to be and he unintentionally allows the death power to flow through him and give him that Bone Sense he displayed in an earlier chapter.

this time, his fingers touch some small exposed bit of bone being dug out of a layer of clay (the clay layer kept it from decomposing more, and Xulic's notes left during the nocturnal shift indicate that the rivers running through this rainforest have likely changed course many times, leaving these silt and clay layers all over the place) the bone he touches is a centaur rib bone, so he feels the heavy breathing and the strike of a spear. he blurts out that it's a centaur rib bone, which surprises everyone around him, as no one has ever actually studied a centaur skeleton in the modern day, for obvious reasons. Parva and K'arik are both in attendance at this site during this scene. K'arik is very confused at Morianon's reaction to the bone, but Parva takes it in stride and has the team excavate the bone, calling over the centaur historians to come identify it. it turns out to actually be a bone tool of some sort, very possibly a tool used for burnishing leather as K'arik is able to point out. and yes, orcish records do list centaur ribs as a major source for such tools in the past. these days, they use elk and moose bones. the centaurs are able to confirm that it's most likely a bone from their own people, so they take it and thank the archaeologists for finding it.

this is the first time K'arik has ever seen Mori do this bone identification thing. Mori has used it on K'arik's bone knife, but he never said anything about it. he usually reserves it for archaeology digs and tries to be subtle about it, but he is a little out of it right now and he was so startled to realize that he was touching a centaur bone that he was unable to restrain himself.

not sure exactly where that scene will go in the final draft, but for now I'm heading back to Evarin and what she's doing while Mori is out here doing archaeology. and then I can put in a nice time skip for the archaeology team and jump to a more interesting part of the dig when things are really starting to escalate and more things are being dug up.

[wondrluv]

☼ the lemonade stand ; walking on sunshine

➪ summary: the zegras' get invited to spend summer with the hughes' and the older siblings plot to get their younger siblings alone together

➪ warnings: none :)

➪ word count: 0.6k

➪ emma's notes: i am so so so so excited for this au and i'm hoping you guys are too! feel free to send in asks about luke and ophelia or the au in general! i haven't decided if i want to do au taglists yet, so let me know!

© wondrluv ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

“Do I really have to go?” Ophelia blinks up at her older brother, lips pouting slightly. 

They stood outside on the driveway of the Hughes’ house, Ophelia playing with the ends of her white cardigan, her yellow sundress underneath it, and her new shiny white high-top Converse adorning her feet. Trevor ran a hand through his hair as he stared down at her with a small smile, “You’re gonna be fine, phi. You already know Jack and Quinn and Luke aren’t as scary as you think they are. Plus, momma Hughes is gonna love you.”

She looked down at her hands, anxiety clouding her mind. Despite her having a bubbly personality, meeting new people always scared her, especially if they were close to Trevor. She never wanted to impede her brother’s friendships. Before she even got the chance to think about walking to the door, she heard it open and footsteps running towards them. Arms wrapped around her waist, picking her up and spinning her around, “Ophelia!”

“Hi, Jack.” Jack put her down and smiled at her before he moved to hug Trevor. 

It was only then that she realized that there was a boy behind Jack, following him out of the house much slower. She smiled at him nervously, “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m Luke, Jack’s younger brother.” He stuck his hand out for her to shake, which she did, “I’m Ophelia, Trevor’s younger sister.”

Luke nodded and the two slowly pulled their hands away from each other. Trevor and Jack shared a mischievous look. The two whispered a few words and then Jack looked at the two younger ones, “Luke why don’t you and Phi go for a walk? You can show her around the neighborhood.”

“Why would I-”

“I would love to.” Ophelia’s softer voice cut off Luke’s louder one, which shut him up, “Okay.”

The two younger ones took off down the driveway, oblivious to their older siblings high-fiving each other before getting the Zegras’ suitcases out of the trunk. The two walked in silence for the first couple of minutes of the walk, Ophelia being the first one to speak after, “So, how old are you?”

“I’m 15, going to be 16 in September.”

“Oh weird. Me too, except in December.” 

He nods, looking down the road to see two little kids selling lemonade at the end of their driveway. He looked back at Ophelia just in time to see her eyes light up at the sight, “I hope you don’t mind. I’ll be right back.”

She took off, running slightly, causing Luke to quirk an eyebrow at her actions. He walked a little faster to catch up with her, catching the tail end of her sentence, “...love lemonade, actually!”

Ophelia’s smile was bright as she talked to the kids, placing two dollars into the little custom jar that sat at the corner of the table. Luke stood by her, smiling awkwardly at the kids. The little girl who sat next to her brother looked up at the older girl, “You’re very pretty.”

Her cheeks flushed at her comment, “Thank you, you are too!”

The little girl smiled, playing with the ends of her hair, “We’re wearing matching dresses!”

Ophelia looked down at her dress and then at the little girl’s, “Huh, we aren’t we?”

The girl moved her hands to grab a ‘special’ glass from under their table, “I was saving this for a special customer and I think you fit the role.”

The glass, or paper cup, had little daisies on it, “It’s my last one.”

“Oh thank you so much. I love it.”

The boy, who had been sitting silently next to his sister, finally spoke, “Are you two dating?”

Luke and Ophelia immediately sputtered out words trying to explain, “No our brothers are friends.”

“Oh, you two would be cute together.”

Who knew kids could be fortune tellers?

WALKING ON SUNSHINE MASTERLIST ; AU'S

TAGLIST ; NHL MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION

[f10werfae]

Pregnancy On The Brain

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry x Short!Shy!Wife!Reader

summary: Now that Henry’s successfully knocked up his precious darling wife, he has to keep an extra eye on her and their little miracle (Dom!Henry) (Emotional loving 🥹)

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🫶

Disclaimer: 18+ / Lumberjack!Henry Masterlist / Henry Masterlist / Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Whas wrong sugar? What’s got my woman all teary” Henry frowned seeing his wife all upset in front of the mirror, her lips pouted and her face flustered. “I-I don’t f-fit into my d-dress anymore” Y/n whined seeing how the lemon printed dress barely made its way up her hips, stitches being ripped the harder she pulled on it. “Oi stop it, there’s nothin’ wrong, especially when there’s more of my bunbun to love on” Henry smirked groping the bits of skin Y/n was complaining about.

“B-but- well maybe I-I should e-exercise with you more?” She pondered looking up at him still visibly upset, in fact her chin was starting to wrinkle up from shaking so much, the new changes in her body clearly causing her distress. Henry could tell by the way her stutter started to make itself more visible. “No way. Precious things like you don’t belong on the heavy equipment sweetpea, you want exercise? Let me fuck your pretty pussy till ya sweat” He smirked bending down to nuzzle his nose with hers, his cock hardening once he saw her giggle n latch onto his bicep with both hands.

“T-That’s so naughty” She whispered cuddling the side of her face into his bicep, his other hand pulling back down the dress till it hit the floor, allowing him to play with her ass easily. “Listen while i’m out collecting log wood today, wan’ you to put on another pretty little dress that I bought ya last week, preferably the lilac one, n’ I want you to make somethin’ nice for us to eat when I get home. Can ya do that for me sugar bun?” He whispered running a finger up and down her cheek, his eyes having a dark glaze over them as he looked down at her.

“Mhm mhm! I can!” Y/n smiled happily, the ingredients for her cherry pie already listed out in her head, her cravings for it suddenly growing ten times in a mere few seconds. “Good n’ when I come home, i’ll have a surprise for ya” He grinned kissing her lips softly, before pulling away and grabbing his baseball cap, blowing kisses at her every two seconds as he walked towards his truck. Leaving his wife to her own special mission, the cherry pie.

“Oh I gotta get the cherries!” Y/n giggled slipping on her shoes, grabbing the wooden basket Henry had gotten her especially for her daily walks. Her face vibrant as she skipped down the secluded lane of their back yard, full of luscious fields, heading towards their cherry trees at the edge of the field. Her lilac dress flowing in the slightly cool breeze, her arms swinging the basket back and forth as she hummed a silly little tune she made up. Her eyes widening as she saw the amount of cherries on the tree, there were so many!

“Wow, y-you guys have all grown! Thank y-you so much” She said adorably picking a handful of sweet cherries from one branch, carefully grabbing her glass jar from the basket and plopping them in until it was full. “Well, I suppose it won’t hurt to taste one of ya” She whispered pulling out her blue blanket she always kept in her basket for emergency picnics, her several glass jars of cherries sitting snug inside the basket, while she lay down munching on her home grown fruits.

She still remembers the day she had complained to Henry about his poor eating habits and demanded he bought her seeds for her own plants; now here she was basically nurturing her own garden of babies, ranging from apples all the way to carrots.

‘That one looks like bonnie the rabbit’ Y/n thought looking up at the scarce white clouds flying overhead, her stuffed animal back home looking like one of them, then another looked like Henry’s axe and then one looked like a cherry. “Oh my phone, m-musta left it at home” She giggled realising, her hand reaching for the missing phone to try and take a picture to send to Henry. The warm sun gracing her face, distant sounds of birds providing a sweet lullaby, one which she slowly fell asleep to.

Meanwhile… Henry on the other hand was just about ready to head home, like clockwork he checked his babygirl’s location on life 360, smirking to himself to see that she had stayed at home like she said she would. Heading off back through the country in his pickup truck, he stopped off at a pharmacy by the gas station, picking up his surprise gift for his bunbun; one he knew would solidify their relationship forever. His body sweaty and hot, even though he was wearing baggy jeans a vest, his body painted with a light golden tan.

“Home sweet home” He whispered to himself, dusting off before going inside, remembering how much his precious wife despises their home being messy; Henry still smiles at the memory of her showing her domestic side, how she wouldn’t let him leave without breakfast and would always pack him lunches. Henry on the other hand wouldn’t let her go anywhere unless it was him driving her, after all what else was his purpose other than to look after his naive lover.

“Sugar pie, where are ya?” He shouted throwing his vest off to the side, his boots thundering against the creaky wooden floorboards, his steps leading him into the kitchen; the ingredients for her famous cherry pie laid out on the counter. But no Y/n. His nostrils flared seeing her iphone left beside the ingredients, who knows how long she’s been gone?

‘Did she really fuckin’ leave?’ Was Henry’s first thought, the veins on his neck popping out purely just from the thought, no wonder her tracker hadn’t moved once. Although the thought of her leaving dissipated once he saw Marly the cat coming inside from the fields, their backdoor was left wide open, the sunshine peeking in gratefully. “Ah the fields, the fuckin’ fields” Henry chuckled shaking his head, course she was out there, he knew how much his wife loved exploring the great outdoors; bringing him different coloured rocks and pebbles, watching giddily as he’d place them on the mantle as if they were to be treasured. And they were, because she got them for Him.

Walking out the backdoor he started off walking down the lane, the meadows further away shining green and healthily, but nothing deterred Henry from finding his little love.

Stopping at the start of the line of trees, he saw her, clearly snoring away on her soft picnic blanket; her basket full of jars of cherries beside her. Henry scoffed and smirked seeing just how silly she was, but he couldn’t blame her, not with her current condition. Looming over her figure, she whined and whimpered before opening her eyes fully, a sleepy smile gracing her lips when she realised it was none other than her husband.

“You fuckin’ scared me baby, didn’t know what ta do without ya, ya left your phone n’ everythin’” Henry whispered hunkering down onto his knees, watching as she slowly sat up, her face all puffy and sun-kissed from her nap. “m-m’ sorry I-I forgot it n’ I was too b-busy lookin’ at the clouds a-and”

“s’okay baby, your man knows, can’t blame ya for a little forgetfulness” He chuckled darkly, seeing how sleepy she still was, guiding her to hop onto his back while he gathered up her blanket and basket. “Missed you s-so much” She whispered kissing his back softly as he whistled a tune, “Ah was only gone for around three hours sugar” He chuckled walking down the smooth path, their large luxurious cabin coming into sight. “I-I know that, but I missed you a-anyway” She sighed rubbing her head against his warm back, her eyes threatening to close over once again.

“n’ I missed your pretty pussy-“

“My What!” Y/n’s eyes shot open at her husband’s vulgar words, his back vibrating from his chuckles travelling through, “n’ your tits and your-“

“Stop i-it that’s embarrassing and t-they ain’t pretty mister” She whined kicking her legs which were in his hands, his footsteps stopping abruptly with a deep sigh, “What do I gotta do to prove to you, that I think you’re fuckin’ sexy as hell, n’ I have to stop myself from whipping my cock out everytime I see ya smile” He grunted lifting her up a bit higher before continuing on down the trail, “W-whippin’ your wha out?!” She giggled loudly, her chin resting on his shoulder as she looked at his face from the side.

Henry smirked turning his head to the side, capturing her lips with his, his tongue reaching out for hers but quickly retracting once she wanted more. The tease. “You’re such a m-meanie, no more kissies for you” She grunted moving back to rest against his back, his hand leaving her leg to reach back and spank her ass with a pop; her body jerking up with an excited squeal.

“Try that again sweetheart n’ we’ll see what happens” He growled finally stepping into the cooler cabin, setting her down on top of their counters, beside his plastic bag from the pharmacy which had her small present. “I-is my present in here?!” She said excitedly picking up the bag, only to pout when Henry pulled it away from her grumpily.

“I dunno if you deserve it honey, ya worried me today, had me thinkin’ ya left your man up ‘ere in the mountains” He ‘tsk’ed and caged her in with an arm on each side of her, his nose rubbing up and down her cheek sensually, her hands fisting his shirt desperately as she pouted. “I-I dunno what happened H-hen, I swear! M-m jus’ forgetful nowadays” She whimpered nuzzling into his chest like a kitten, her legs caged around his waist, her face dipping down to place kisses onto his neck and up his chin.

“Alright alright fine, since you wan’ it so badly” He smirked cupping her face and kissing her nose, his hands reached into the bag and pulled out the small box, a clearblue box. “Ya know what this is bunny don’t ya?” Taking out the small stick and twirling it in his hands, he passed it to his wife, who was visibly shocked and shaken at what he’d just given her. “A-a pregnancy test?” She whispered looking at the foreign object, was this the condition Henry was talking about?

“I wan’ you to take it for me babybun, see if we have our present in there already” He smirked nipping her lip playfully, his hand rubbing over the bottom of her stomach affectionately, her small gasps filling his ears. “I-is this why my dresses d-don’t fit?”

“Find out n’ see baby” He smiled taking her hand in his, and pulling her into their large bathroom, with a bathtub big enough to fit four people at the most. “W-will you stay with me? M-m scared” She whimpered pulling up the skirt of her dress, her face flustered at the thought of him watching her pee, but then again this wouldn’t be the first time. There’d been multiple times where he’d simply barge into the toilet while she was in there, just for his routine goodbye kiss before work.

“Don’t worry sugar pie, m’not leavin’, not now and not ever” He smiled, almost sickly, his hands holding onto hers, quite comical because his wife was simply peeing yet needed all the support possible. “Alright pass it over ‘ere” He said watching her finish up, the test still in her shaky hands. “N-no way it’s full of my pee” She gasped horrified putting it down onto the counter herself, turning to distract herself by washing her hands.

Those three minutes felt like utter hell for them both, with Y/n ultimately sitting on Henry’s lap whilst he was on the toilet cover, his voice softly shushing her small whimpers and nervous hiccups as she looked at the test left on the table. “S’okay pretty girl, daddy will look after ya both” Kissing her neck wetly he could already feel her pussy throbbing at his words, even during a nerve wracking situation like this, a life altering moment.

“Ya promise?” Holding his deep blue eyes, her own looked glossy and scared, her hands fiddling with his fingers erratically. “I pinky promise” Linking their fingers together he kissed her lips softly, her head pushing forward wanting to deepen it, she missed three hours worth of his kisses today; she was not having it!

Although their little kiss session was interrupted by the beep of the timer on Henry’s phone, Y/n jumping up to her feet and leaning her head over to look at the plastic stick, her breath hitching in her throat. “what does a cross mean?” Her voice came out dry and hoarse, and for once not a stutter was in sight, she knew what it meant. “My gorgeous little wife is pregnant, with my baby” He smiled to himself still sitting on the toilet cover, he already knew the result, months of vitamins and unprotected sex would eventually have lead to this; all it took was some time.

“I-i’m gonna be a mommy?” Her hand softly slid down to cup the slight pouch on her stomach, her fingers grazing over her fabric slowly, a small smile finding its way onto her cace. “I-i’m gonna be a mommy!”

“mhm, so prouda ya babygirl” Henry smirked feeling up her thigh, his hand going up to grope her bare ass, his new baby momma still coming to terms with the fact she was carrying their little life; yet all he wanted to do was to fuck her good, and if he could he would knock her up again. The idea of his wife all round and big, full of him, got him so hot and bothered, her tits all swollen along with her belly, safely housing their own miracle.

“H-how do we know when i-it’s comin?”

“I’ll sort all that out baby, ya don’t need to worry your pretty self, after-all ya got pregnancy on the brain. Don’t want ya forgettin’ anythin” He cooed standing up to kiss her forehead, his arms enveloping her against him, feeling her nod and relax in his arms. All according to his plan.

After he was finally able to get her to come to bed with him, he found her hands naturally gravitating towards her stomach, her protective maternal instincts already kicking in so early. “I-if we have a g-girl can we name it a-after a flower?” She asked innocently looking up at him, her hands on top of his, on her stomach. “N’ what if it’s a boy babybun?” He chuckled kissing the tip of her nose, “I dunno haven’t t-thought of it yet! Stop stressin’ me out!” She whined almost inaudibly as Henry murmured sweet soft apologies, his lips coating the side of her face in gentle kissies, her favourite.

“T-thought you said you was sleepy” She whispered wrapping her arms around his neck, caressing his nape as he continued to plant little love bites on his lover, his kisses leaving her all hot and bothered. “I am, wasn’t lyin’” Henry pulled back quirking his eyebrow, “T-then tell it to calm down, o-or else ya won’t be able to sleep” Y/n said shyly pointing at the tent starting to grow in Henry’s trousers, ignoring the fact that Henry had basically bunched her dress up to her breasts, his fingers rubbing over her slick wet folds.

“Why don’t you tell my pussy to calm down” He grumbled rubbing her own slickness all over her, acting as if it was lube, his fingers greedily pinching her swollen jutted out clit. “Y-you started it! baby, tell your d-daddy to stop bein silly” She whined looking down and rubbing her still stomach, even though there was still no dramatic visible growth, the potential of it made her emotional and excited.

Licking into her mouth Henry held the back of her neck gently, both of her hands still on her stomach, while his other hand was busy messing with her second set of lips. Tugging, rubbing and spanking at her sensitive button, causing her body to jolt and shiver into the kiss, her tongue actively sucking on his passionately. Her chin slowly growing wet and slick, both of them not caring at how much filth there was. Kissing her sensually one more time he pushed her fully onto her back, his knees straddling her.

“Oh baby I hope they got your eyes, gon’ have me wrapped round their lil finger jus’ like their momma” He groaned seeing her just batting her eyelashes at him, a mischievous smile on her face as she felt up his torso, “I-I wan’ them to look l-like their daddy, s-so handsome” She whispered looking away from his eyes shyly. His hands now pulling the dress up fully over her head, giving her tits a bounce and grope; his voice chuckling deeply in her ear as he licked up her neck, “You’re so g’damn sexy, can’t wait to see ya all full of me, walkin’ around so everyone knows I pumped ya full of my cum”

“mhm s-so dirty” Whimpering and writhing, she felt his fingers go back down to her slick centre, the tip of his cock slapping against her clit roughly, almost imitating the spank of a hand. “Aw baby, we both know you’re the dirty one here, weren’t ya the one beggin’ me to kiss your pretty little pussy the other day?”

“Y-you said if I needed help w-with the tingles ya would help” She whined feeling the head of his shaft slip through her sensitive folds, his nestle of curls at the base of his dick softly scratching against her button, his heavy balls sitting against her swollen lips. His length slowly slipping in through her puffy pussy, both of them sighing out in relief and pleasure as he bottomed out inside of her; Y/n’s hands cupping his face to keep his forehead on hers, nuzzling their noses together for comfort like they always did.

“Gah hav’ knocked ya up and you’re still so tight, almost like when ya were a virgin honey” Henry growled pecking her pouty lips, her voice whining at his choice of words, her legs securely wrapped around his waist. “You take me so well honey, could fuck your pregnant pussy all day n’ night if a could”

“W-well you can, y-you jus’ don’t” She snarked back, clearly regretting her decision straight after when Henry quirked his brow at her, making her shut up in a mere few seconds. “Say that again n’ i’ll tie ya to the bed, won’t be leavin’ since ya want me to play with my pussy so much” He teased thrusting in and out at a slow pace, his one hand cupping her face, while the other toyed with her nipples. “Can’t wait to see these pretty tits fill up with milk, I already know it’ll taste as sweet as you do sugar pie, you’ll let me have a taste won’t ya?”

Small mewls left her slightly opened lips, her eyes widen open and already glimmering with tears as Henry slowly moved their position, where he was now spooning her, their hips smacking together to create a lewd sound. “Mhmhm” She moaned pushing her tits together just for him, knowing how much he adored just simply looking at them, sometimes he’d even hide her bras just so she’d walk about their home, her pebbles nipples poking through the fabric.

“So gorgeous, my pretty wife” He smirked leaning over and spitting right onto the valley between her breasts, hearing her squeak as he watched her massage his spit onto her globes, she was so dirty for him; only him. Before she had met Henry, Y/n L/n would never have even stepped a foot out of line, and now she was the one making the line. Hugging onto her, he kissed her shoulders and back so affectionately, he wanted to make her cum. “I-I love you so much pretty girl, ya make me so happy, you n’ our lil’ miracle” He moaned feeling her clench around him, his hand reaching over to momentarily slap her breasts together, before reaching down and drawing figure eights on her button.

Hearing no reply he looked over to see tears filing down her face continuously, her lip hidden between her teeth as she bit down harshly, her hands fisting the sheets tightly to keep her from squealing at how deep he was going. “What’s wrong bunny? Am I hurtin’ ya?” He said slowing down, concern lacing his voice as his rough calloused hands felt up her sides. “N-no, a-am jus’ really happy, love you too hubby” She smiled blinking away a few stray tears as she turned her head to face him, her tongue outstretched already waiting to tangle around his, muffled squeals leaving her lips as she felt him return back to his rhythm.

“I’m close babybun, ya wanna cum with me?” He asked breaking away from their kiss with a peck, their lips still touching as he spoke, her eyes staring up at his softly but intensely, her head nodding; her lips wanting nothing more than to his his soft ones. Thank God she had forced him to start wearing lip balm.

Y/n found herself clawing onto his arm that was wrapped around her waist, her teeth clenched, sobs wrecking through her body purely just because she felt so loved and so intimate. Henry’s warm cum flooding her almost instantly as she herself felt his fingers rub her button at the same time, her hole clenching around him for the last time, giving out once she let out a raspy breath.

“Did so good for me sugar plum, don’t worry I gotcha, ya can rely on me” He whispered kissing the shell of his ear, feeling her clench around him a few more times before pulling out slowly to not make her uncomfortable. After a few silent seconds of Henry combing her hair back with his fingers, his soft voice shushing her quiet sobs as he rocked her back and forth against his body.

Henry couldn’t help but worry, he’d never seen his precious give such an emotional reaction, had he pushed her too far? She hadn’t used her safe-word ‘cherry’ so he had assumed she was still okay during their intense love-making session. The tiny tattoo of a ‘H’ on the back of her neck receiving wet kisses while he waited for her to calm down.

“Hold on pretty, m’jus’ gonna run us a bath alright?” Receiving nothing but a shake of a head and a ‘don’t leave me a-alone’ He smiled picking her up against his still nude body, sitting her on top of the counter as he filled up the tub with warm water, making sure to put in some of lavender bubbles she adored so much to relax in.

“c’mere sugar, don’t worry i’m here too” He whispered helping her step into the purple coloured water, letting her sit sideways on his lap, her head laying on his shoulder; that’s how big their bath tub is.

“M-m sorry for bein’ a crybaby, I didn’t mean it” She whispered lifting her head up to kiss his beard covered cheek, her energy clearly spent and gone.

“Don’t you ever apologise for bein’ you, what’d I tell ya? If you’re cryin’, i’m here, if you’re angry then i’m here, you’re happy then i’m here. This is for life sweets, nothin’ is gonna put me off ya I promise. Well except sometimes ya stink but-“

“Stop it!” She said smiling a little, Henry’s heart lightening a little seeing her vibe jolt up a bit in comparison to earlier. “Now that i’ve seen that beautiful smile a’ yours, care to share what’s buggin’ my wife so much?”

“I-it really was nothin’ bad. Was jus’ thinkin’ about how- how happy I am w-with you. W-When I think back to when I was 17, I-I was always so worried i’d end up un-unloved because of my problems; but y-you’ve never made me feel like a burden, n’ now w-we’re havin’ a baby together” She smiled finishing her explanation, looking up at Henry with a blissful smile on her face, her hands bringing his to her stomach, “O-our baby” She giggled wiggling excitedly on his lap,

“There’s no other woman on this Earth i’d rather have a baby with-“

“So i-if an alien”

“Shut it you. Let me continue my speech to you now that you’ve done yours” He chuckled sprinkling water in her face playfully, “You’re the one for me, n’ you’d never be a burden because I want to bother with you, I want everything with ya. Gah, you’re just fuckin’ irresistible n’ I don’t think I can live without ya. I don’t know what piece a shit has said things to ya but, you’re my precious sugar plum princess. In our little world, right up ‘ere where no one can get us, I promise to keep ya n’ our little miracle safe. Cause you’re both mine n’ i’m not afraid to show it” He finished, twirling the wedding band round her finger, his eyes staring at her; simply smiling she leant forward connecting their lips together, “N’ y-you’re mine”

———

PSA: I really am proud of this piece, and hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it 🫶

Library blog of works: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

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Hope you all have a lovely week🫶

Can’t wait to write more dad!lumberjack!Henry xoxo Fae

[ritualove]

Silas went to work making the coffees. He had been a straight black coffee drinker for a while now, but not because he enjoys it. Silas would never admit he is one to stoop to the level of prioritising aesthetics to function, but there is a reason he still uses a typewriter and drinks black coffee. When he went on to making Stoker's, it was borderline a sisyphean task. I mean four sugars is just mental. Silas was able to get through 2 sugars just fine, but the third was the first major hurdle. The weight of the sugar put a strain on his wrist, causing him to use his whole arm to scoop the white powder. A few grains fell from the spoon as he transported it out of the jar, and towards the cup, from the shaking that his strained nervous system put through his arm. He eventually made it however, until he remembered the fourth. Into the breach on the sugar jar against, he wasn't able to do it, at least not with the help of his other hand. Like Atlas lifting the heavens, a burden given to him by a great god (Stoker) for his hubris (asking if Stoker wanted a coffee). He was able to make it, and pour the last sugar into the cup, and stir it away into the liquid. He made sure to exacerbate his struggle to Stoker as much as he could.

"Well I wouldn't go so far to say I agree with you." He said, not wanting to indulge his conspiracies too much, or perhaps so that Silas wouldn't think about it anymore and start to believe them. "Whatever, storms happen. Any plans for today?" He asked him, trying to brush off the cursed feeling the clouds formulated through him.

"Look- I mean, I think it's hardly the time to be passing judgement," Stoker argued his brother sleepily, not that he really cared too much about the other's comment. Stoker was the one who had paid for both the coffee and the sugar in the household, so at the end of the day, it really didn't matter how much sugar he had in his drink. His health might argue with him later on, but for now, Stoker didn't care.

Stoker couldn't help but agree that the storm was weird. While it was the first thing of it's kind to happen in the strange town since Stoker had moved in, it wasn't the first strange occurrence. "I told you that this town was weird, man," they shook their head. "Didn't expect you to totally agree with me... but..." they trailed off as they got lost in their thoughts of what could be causing such strange things, not only the storm, but every other weird thing that Stoker had witnessed, too.