#5 hours of sleep is not working out for me

[toournextadventure]

hate crime

Summary: No one knows what happened to Ghostface after his initial onslaught on New York City. Unfortunately for the population, he didn't disappear; he just got better.

Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: swearing, Scream violence, suggestive themes Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night & a novel life masterlist)

Rainy nights in New York City were the best. They gave way to those calm nights in the apartment that led to soft evenings and the best sleep of the week. If one was lucky, they would be able to grab a bite at Sofia’s and really live it up. A nice night, movies on the TV, and a half-finished pie on the counter? What else could a girl want?

A date. Cassidy wanted a date. Her boyfriend wasn’t a prick, but he was just stupid enough to not know the basics of a relationship. For instance, it was raining on a Saturday night? You invite your fucking girlfriend over so you can both get fucking laid. It wasn’t fucking rocket science. But no, he just had to watch the game with his fucking friends, and leave her to do absolutely nothing in her empty ass apartment.

Instead, she was alone. All alone, watching some shitty movie while he was probably having the time of his life.

Prick.

Well, at least she had ice cream to accompany her. A delicious pint of raspberry cheesecake. Just one bite was enough to transport her to heaven, and she would argue with anyone who thought otherwise. It had been long enough since Cassidy had put it in the freezer that it was just hard enough to make a nice bite, but not too hard to put up a fight.

It was perfect.

Cassidy’s phone vibrated loudly on the counter when she opened the cutlery drawer. It wasn’t all that unusual to get calls at odd hours; work, school, and friends made sure she kept her phone available at all times. And she answered them. So it was instinctual to pick up the phone and accept the call as she fished out a spoon and closed the drawer.

“I’m not interested,” she said before her friend on the other end could even speak.

“Uh, that’s good,” an unknown voice answered, “because I’m not selling.”

Cassidy’s brows narrowed. “Who is this?” She put the spoon in her mouth as she waited for an answer. A warm spoon was optimal for ice cream.

“A friend of a friend,” the voice said. It was hard to tell if it was a guy or a girl. “They dared me to call.”

“Friend of a friend?” She hummed, thinking about who it could be. “Was it David?”

The person on the other end of the line laughed. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“I knew it, that prick,” she sighed. It was no surprise it was David, he would do anything for a cheap laugh. “What do you get out of this shitty prank anyway?”

“Well, it depends,” the voice answered.

Cassidy leaned forward on her counter and smiled to herself. “On what?”

“How long I can keep you on the call,” they said, matching her tone. “Wanna split the $60?”

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out far longer than necessary as she grabbed her pint of ice cream and made her way to the living room. “I guess I can’t turn down $30.”

Cassidy pressed the phone between her cheek and shoulder while she moved. Her hip bumped against the recliner, but it didn’t phase her; she hit it more often than not. As she sat down in the chair, she could hear similar shuffling on the other end of the line. Nothing about it phased her.

“So,” the caller said, drawing out the “o” for far too long. “You doing anything exciting tonight?”

Cassidy chuckled humourlessly. “Yeah, me, myself, and I are really living it up.” She put a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and left it there as she turned on Scary Movie 5. How exciting.

“Well,” the caller said with a barely hidden laugh, “what are the three of you doing tonight?”

“A Scary Movie marathon.” She took another bite of her ice cream. “Probably for the fifth time this semester.”

“So you like them.”

“Love them,” she answered instantly. “I could watch them all day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then what’s your favourite Scary Movie?”

Cassidy looked down at her ice cream and scraped the spoon over the top. That was a pretty good question. The humour in each movie was top tier to her, and that wasn’t negotiable. She couldn’t compare them on that aspect because they all depended on which movies they were making fun of. But there was one movie that stood out from all the rest, she supposed.

“Probably the first one,” she finally said. “It’s a classic.”

“Isn’t that the one based on those Stab movies?”

“That’s the one,” she said with a singular nod that no one could see.

The movie continued to play on the screen.

“Have you ever seen the Stab movies?”

“Fuck no,” Cassidy said before the unknown voice could even finish the question. “Horror movies give me the creeps. Especially when they’re based on real people.” A minuscule shiver wracked her body as if to prove her point.

She heard a deep breath on the other end of the line. “You know, you really should watch the original.” Another breath. “It’s to die for.”

Something about the tone of that last sentence put Cassidy on edge. Perhaps it was simply because she was home alone while the storm continued to rage outside. None of her friends talked like that. Sure, this person was a friend of a friend, but it was still a bit odd.

This person was a bit odd. Was the $30 really worth talking to a weirdo all night? She could be settled with a blanket and paying attention to her movie. But no, she just had to answer the phone and accept a shitty deal. She would need to tell Heather about this whole weird situation later.

“Hey, how much longer until we get that money from David?” Cassidy asked. She couldn’t stop thinking about that last thing the person had said, but she chose to try and ignore it.

“Just a few more minutes,” the caller said in a breathy tone. It was creepy. “Which movie are you watching?”

“What?”

“For your marathon,” they clarified. “Which one?”

“Oh,” she chuckles humourlessly. Nervously.

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to tell the truth anymore. There was an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach. She hesitantly placed the half-empty pint of ice cream on the side table, soon accompanied by the spoon she had licked clean.

“The third one,” she finally answered.

“No you’re not.” A lump forced its way into her throat. “That’s the fifth.”

Her entire body was frozen while the words ran laps around her mind. What the hell was going on? Her nerves felt like they were engulfed in fire, leaving her simultaneously too hot and frozen. That wasn’t right. The words didn’t form any proper reason in her mind, but she understood the sinking feeling it left in her chest.

“How do you know which movie I’m watching?” She asked as she slowly stood up from her chair.

A heavy breath. “Because I can see your screen.”

As soon as the words pieced together in her head, Cassidy ran to her balcony window. The curtains were closed. They weren’t the only windows into her apartment, but they were the only ones that faced the TV. As far as she knew, no other window could see her screen; a deliberate furnishing choice on her part.

“Listen,” she said breathlessly as she stared at the closed curtains. “I’ll tell David we talked all night if you want.” There was no response. “You can even keep all the money.”

A taunting laugh.

“I never said I talked to David.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. She knew she should have hung up at first. Who the hell was this freak? It was New York City, there were plenty of freaks around, but this? This was just psychotic. Nobody in their right mind would do this shit!

She quickly tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder again and grabbed the curtains with both hands-

“-Open it and I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. How would they even get into the apartment? She froze and reconsidered. How else could they have known what was on her TV? God, what was going on? She thought about the ramifications for far too long before letting go of the curtains. They shifted for a few moments before finally settling back into place.

“Who are you?” Cassidy’s voice was weak.

“You assumed our mutual friend was David.” She waited impatiently. “But surely you haven’t forgotten our dear friend Anika.”

Cassidy laughed bitterly. “Are you fucking serious?” She stomped through the apartment to grab the ice cream and dirty spoon. “Did that loser and her freak girlfriend put you up to this?” She practically threw the ice cream back into the freezer. “Because it’s pathetic.”

Of course that freak had caused this. She hadn’t bullied Anika and Mindy for nothing. Cassidy was a patient soul, it was true, but even she had her limits. No one wanted to hear those weirdos talk about stupid movies 24/7, especially when it wasn’t necessary. Didn’t they know there were better, more important things in the world?

“Those are some strong opinions to have,” the caller said over the sound of the spoon hitting Cassidy’s sink. “Especially for someone in your position.”

She rested her hip on the counter. “And what position would that be?”

“You can open your balcony window now, Cassidy.”

The curtains of the balcony were swaying. If she strained her ears, she could hear the rain falling a little louder. Would it be smart to open the curtains and see what was out there? Or maybe she should just hang up, call the police, and let them deal with it. After all, the police had never done anything wrong to her, surely she could trust them.

But she wanted to know. She wanted to know what those freaks had managed to pull off all on their own. Cassidy wouldn’t have called them stupid; at least not Anika. But there was no way she would have said any of them were smart. They were all just a bunch of down on their luck kids who had gotten into Blackmoore out of pity, not intellect.

Whether she had fully intended to or not, she let her feet carry her toward the balcony. As she got closer, she could hear the rain and wind clearly; the balcony window was open behind the curtains.

“How do you know my name?” She asked even though it was a stupid question. If this person was friends with Anika, then that was how they knew.

Still.

“Everyone knows your name.”

She reached out and grabbed the curtain with both hands.

“Or they’re about to.”

Cassidy closed her eyes, threw the curtains open, and screamed. She used every ounce of breath and energy in her body to release the most blood curdling scream she could manage. But when she opened her eyes, the scream died down in her throat.

There was nothing on the balcony. The door was open, but there was nothing there. Not in the doorway, not on the actual balcony, and not across the street. Hell, the only thing she could see was the poor potted plant that she had let die last year and hadn’t thrown out yet.

This was all just some sick joke.

“You know, this is really pathetic,” Cassidy said calmly even though her heart was still pounding in her chest. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Fine, call them.” She grabbed her phone and looked for the “end call” button. “They’ll find out all about your dirty little secret.”

She froze.

“Turn around, Cassidy.”

Her heart was beating loudly in her ears. Mixed with the rain and wind coming in through the open balcony window that she couldn’t bring herself to close, it was deafening. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to see what could possibly be hiding behind her. It could all be some cruel joke and the apartment could be empty.

Or not.

She took a few short, quick breaths and braced herself before finally turning around quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet. There, in the middle of her apartment, was Heather. Heather, the best fuck she’d ever had, tied up in the chair like a piece of meat. There was a gash on her head that was dripping blood into her eyes, but aside from that there weren’t any other physical injuries.

“Heather?” Cassidy said in disbelief.

“Please help me,” Heather cried. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Cassidy dropped the phone without hanging up. She didn’t care anymore. All of this had gone too far. Those creeps had crossed too many lines. Messing with her? Fine. It was pathetic, but fine. But finding her secret hookup? Didn’t they know she had a reputation? What would her boyfriend think if he found out? Actually, he would probably think it was hot. Maybe that was worse.

“Did Anika do this to you?” She asked as she attempted to untie the knots in the rope. It was probably the first time in her life she had ever regretted having acrylics.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Heather said with a sniffle. A drop of blood fell onto the rope. “Her and her geek friends are obsessed with this shit.”

“We’ll call the cops later,” Cassidy said. “I’m tired of their freaky, “poor us” bullshit.”

The ropes weren’t budging, and her fingers were feeling raw. How had they managed to do such a thorough job so quickly? Perhaps because, like she had known from the very beginning, they were all a bunch of freaks. A bunch of freaks who had no lives, no real friends, and no chance of living like normal people. She smirked to herself. They’d have one hell of a time getting any sort of job after college if she had anything to say about it-

-the floor creaked.

Cassidy’s fingers froze. There was only one place in her apartment that the floor creaked. And it wasn’t underneath her or Heather. She looked up slowly. First she saw Heather, sitting there impatiently and waiting for her to get her out. Then the gash on Heather’s face.

Then the cloaked figure standing behind her.

Then the Ghostface mask shrouded in a black hood.

The Ghostface tilted his head at her. She couldn’t move. It felt like the air had frozen in her lungs. She just had to kneel there and watch as he lifted a gloved hand with a giant knife and waved at her with two fingers. The knife was huge. His free hand lifted just as slowly and pushed the mask back inch by inch until she could see the bottom of his face.

The smile was accentuated by the deep scars stretching across both cheeks.

Cassidy opened her mouth to scream before something came from behind her and pressed against her throat.

She never made a sound.

—---

The pool of blood slowly inched across the tarp that had been carefully arranged underneath the two college girls. It was wide enough to catch any accidental splatter, yet thick enough to keep it from spilling out. A wise purchase for a wise killer. Or two.

Ghostface stepped forward, standing over the corpses. It wasn’t their proudest moment; there had been a few hitches in the plan. But when the result was the same, well, they supposed it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. They grabbed the mask and yanked it off.

“You jumped the gun,” Tara said breathlessly. The adrenaline was still running through her veins; she had grown to love it.

The second Ghostface removed their mask next.

“I know,” you said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.” You looked down at the corpses of your enemies with glee and disgust. “She’s just such a bitch.”

You both continued to stand there, neither one daring to make the first move. The silence after a kill was one of the more satisfying moments to you. No more screaming, no more steel cutting through flesh. Just the sounds of your breathing and the blood rushing through your ears.

“I didn’t know they were gay,” you finally said. “Or closeted, I guess.”

“I think Mindy said they were experimenting,” Tara speculated. “They both tried to hit on Anika at one point.”

You hummed in response and continued to look at them. Not that you had stopped. That was the one thing you didn’t think you would ever really get used to. Sure, your family business was… a bit risque on its own, but this was different. You would argue with Dicky all day every day, but knife wounds were more gruesome than gunshots.

“Does this make us homophobic?” You asked. “Was this a hate crime?”

“I-” Tara stopped and closed her mouth. It made you feel a little better that she had to think about it too. “No,” she finally said with a slow nod. “We’re doing the world a favour.”

You smiled. “God, I love you.”

“Love me while we clean up,” she demanded even though you saw her smile. “Get moving.”

The cleanup process, all of you agreed, was the worst part. It was methodical, time consuming, and boring. You would much rather spend the time with Tara, not cleaning up after the two bitches that bullied all of you like you were still in fucking highschool. Truly, it was almost embarrassing for them. You didn’t want to clean up after their mess again.

But you liked the time you got with Tara. Since the whole original Ghostface debacle, she had lightened up. She still bullied you, but honestly? It was a turn on. You wouldn’t dare tell her to stop. If there ever came a day that you didn’t want Tara Carpenter to bully you? It would be the end of the world.

Cleaning up with Sam, however, was a beast.

That’s why you stuck with Tara. Not just because you loved her, of course, but it was a wonderful bonding activity. You hadn’t wanted to bring her into the family business because, well, that was just dangerous. But this? It was nice. And honestly? It got the both of yours adrenaline going and usually led to some of the best date nights.

…

Maybe you both needed more therapy.

“The scary movie question was clever,” you said after you had finally managed to haul the tarp - and the corpses - to the trash chute.

“Thank you,” Tara said with a genuine smile. “I’m pretty proud of it.”

“You should be,” you encouraged. “I thought Cassidy was gonna hear me laughing.”

“You would’ve been sleeping on the couch,” Tara replied. She was serious, but you knew the truth; she would’ve slept on the couch with you.

The next stage of cleaning was far easier on the back. It was basic cleaning, to make the apartment look lived in, but not abandoned. And certainly not like a murder had occurred. Or, you supposed it was a double murder. God, you still couldn’t get over how much of a bitch Cassidy and Heather were. You really did feel a million pounds lighter now that they were gone.

“You know,” you said as you rested your hip on the counter while Tara made sure no fingerprints were anywhere. “Blood looks really good on you.”

“Shut up,” she said quickly. You still saw the blush on her cheeks.

You weren’t lying though. The dark, now-dried blood was a wonderful match to her eyes. It also looked lovely on her skin. You couldn’t really explain what it was; maybe it was the taboo of it all (you definitely needed more therapy). Whatever it was, it was almost like she was glowing.

Maybe you were just in love.

Tara was still checking the kitchen counter when you stepped up behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist. Her body seemed to relax in your arms. Like instinct, she leaned back into you and you could hold her closer. You were like two pieces to the same puzzle; your bodies fit perfectly together.

“It’s kinda hot,” you said before placing a kiss on her cheek. She tasted faintly of copper.

“You’re just deranged,” she said softly.

“Only for you,” you said. Your next kiss was placed on her jaw.

“We can’t do this here,” she said with a sigh. “We’re almost done.”

“We haven’t cleaned the bedroom yet,” you offered. “And I’ve got another tarp in my bag.”

She didn’t argue.

“Think of it as an extra “fuck you” to Cassidy,” you continued. “We both know how much you hated her.”

Your arm pulled her tighter against you as you placed a third kiss right behind her ear. Just going off her silence alone, you knew she would cave. Tara did her best to keep things professional on the scene, but you knew how to win her over. And you knew how much she loved it.

“Okay,” she finally said. Whether she was aware of it or not, her head tilted to give you more access to her neck. “But only a quickie.”

“Seeing you like this?” You said as you bent down and swept an arm under her knees. She shrieked lightly before wrapping her arms around your neck. “I don’t think I could last very long anyway.”

You carried her to your bag and bent down so she could grab it before heading directly to the bedroom.

In the background, the credits of Scary Movie 5 rolled on the TV.

[dancingtotuyo]

High Infidelity Part V

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature Explicit

Summary: Tommy is released, but he only pushes you further into Joel's arms.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: prison, mentions of war, fighting, LOTS OF TEARS, emotional and physical affair, cheating boundaries, smut (P in V), Oral sex (F receiving)

Notes: And so we reach the end of this story. I know there's a lot to wrap up. Thank you all for all your amazing comments and thoughts over the last month. It really means the world to me.

I know I say this every chapter but a huge thanks to @janaispunk and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin. They have beta'ed every chapter one top of listening to me scream about this story for hours over the course of months! I adore you both so much

Words: 7234

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

They warn you that Tommy’s transition home will be difficult. An adjustment period they call it. You prepare for him to struggle, thinking he would try to leave the house in search of trouble, but it’s the opposite. Joel picks him up from work in the morning and drops him off in the evening. Then he goes out on the back deck and drinks sitting out there in utter silence. At first, you join him, letting Nathaniel play in the backyard but he refuses to talk, hardly looks your way. Sometimes he tracks Nathaniel, but not all the time. He seems so far away, like he had those first couple months home after Desert Storm, but he came back to you, as Your Tommy. At least for a little bit. 

At night, he pulls you into his arms without a word. He holds you until you fall asleep, but on several occasions, you wake up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Usually he’s sitting on the bed or standing as he stares out the window. Sometimes you hear him pacing the house. You don’t talk about it. You don’t talk about much anymore except for the weather. He’s ultra focused on the weather it seems. 

He hasn’t tried to touch you. Sexually that is. Any kiss he lays on you is chaste almost like it’s his duty, but sometimes you catch more behind it, like he’s pushing down his own desires. When you try to progress things, he walks away. 

It hurts. A lot. 

You have Julia and Micky over for dinner a month after Tommy’s release. Tommy comes out of his shell a little bit. He wears a smile, laughs with his head thrown back at some inside joke Micky cracks. He looks easy, relaxed for once. Under the table, his hand lands on your thigh sending little jolts of electricity through your body. He’s feeding you more and more loose threads of his old self to hold on to. The ever present tension in your chest eases. You hate that it feels like you can breathe again. A small, small assurance that he will come back to you in time. 

Micky and Tommy take the boys outside after dinner. Micky talks about a support group for Veterans he goes to. You watch from the window, you can’t hear them, but you see when  Tommy brushes him off, his body going rigid. You try to push it out of your mind, but you already feel the threads slipping through your fingers as you push back tears with a glass of water. 

Tommy goes to bed before you that night, but when you slip into bed, he still pulls you into his arms. When you wake up a couple hours later, Tommy stands by the window, gazing out of it like a statue keeping watch. 

You don’t usually say anything. You don’t let him know you know he’s not sleeping, but something tugs you into an upright position. ���Tommy.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. You get no indication that he even hears you. You throw back the covers, joining him next to the window. You repeat his name, laying a hand on his shoulder. You catch a small twinge in his jaw. “Come back to bed?”

His eyes dart from the moon to his feet. He leans away from you, just enough for you to pick up on it. You can’t ignore the stab of hurt that shoots through your body. Your hands fall back like you’ve been burned. You wish you had the energy to yell at him, fight him, but you don’t, so you crawl back into bed, back turned to him. Silent tears soak your pillow before you fall back asleep. 

Tommy’s gaze moves to your still frame, praying for a release from the chains he can’t seem to shake. The ones that he keeps hurting you with, but he doesn't know where to find the keys. 

So life continues like that. Weekly dinners with Micky and Julia, glimpses of Tommy and threads that slip through your fingers. Most days it feels like one step forward and two steps back. Your patiences frays, your emotions unraveling each time he pushes you away only to pull you close at the end of the day. You’re not sure what does it, if you’ve reached the end of your rope, completely unraveled, or multiple tantrums Nathaniel threw all day, but when he reaches for you one night, you snap. 

“Stop.” You pull out of his reach.

“What’s wrong?”

Dry laughter falls out of you as you roll out of the bed. “What’s wrong? What’s not wrong?”

“Baby…”

“No, you don’t get to try and soothe me!” You bite your lip, trying to keep the tears of the past months from your eyes. You can’t break down right now, in front of him. “You’re pushing me away! I’m trying to be here for you, I really am, Tommy, but I am exhausted! I don’t know what to do.”

He looks away, body looking deflated. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

“No- Stop,” you hold your hands up. “You know why I’m here. I love you, but love only gets us so far.”

“I’m trying-”

“No, you’re not.”

“You don’t know-”

“People who are trying don’t sit out on the porch and ignore their family every night! They don’t ignore their wife!”

“If that’s how you feel, maybe you should just leave me now!” he snaps. “No need to delay the inevitable.”

It pulls the air from you like a punch to the gut. Tears well in your eyes. “Is that what you want?”

He looks away from you again. You march up to him, grabbing his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Tell me!” 

There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re the same eyes you fell in love with, but they’re hollow now. It sends a heartbreaking chill through your body. His eyes fall to the corner, the only way he can get away from your searing gaze. 

You drop his face, stepping away before you lose it in front of him. “Okay then.” 

You can’t stay here, in the room, in your home. Tommy hangs his head as you flee from his presence. The house rattles when the front door slams behind you. Only then, does Tommy let the apathy bleed out of his body and the tears fall. 

A knock on the front door jolts Joel awake. The TV plays lowly, casting harsh light and shadows across the dark living room. He feels confused, disoriented. Another knock pulls him through the fog a little bit. He opens the door to find you, tears streaming down your face. You push past him, crossing the threshold without an invitation. You don’t need one. 

“What’s wrong, Darlin?”

You inhale, preparing to let the words out, to scream if necessary, and then your whole chest quivers, and the tears pour out again sending you into a blubbering mess. Joel’s arms wrap around you, pulling you to the couch before you collapse right in front of him. 

He leaves you for a minute. The faucet runs in the kitchen. Joel sets a cool, heavy glass in your hands, watching over you with concern knit brows. Every time you try to talk, your chest rattles again and tears overpower you.

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

You sip at the water, rotating between complete serenity and total chaos. Every time you think you might be able to speak, the words turn into incoherent sobs. Finally, you give up trying to talk until the glass is empty. Joel takes the glass from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. You don’t attempt to talk until your breathing is fully evened out. Joel holds your shoulders, thumbs running smoothly over your skin.

“I’m just so fucking tired,” you say. “All the time.”

Joel frowns. “Tommy?”

“He won’t talk to me.” The tears gather behind your eyes again, creating pressure in your head. You feel the blubbering start to return. “I knew things would be hard, but he just acts like I’m not even there half the time.”

“Is he going out again?” 

You shake your head. “No- he’s home all the time, sulking, being mad at the world for whatever reason he can come up with. I’ve tried so hard. I don’t know what else to do.” Hot tears spill from your eyes. “It shouldn’t be this hard. I’m used to doing everything alone- but now I’m doing it with a ghost in my home. It wears on a person, and tonight- “ It hurts like citrus in a fresh cut to think about.  

“Come here.” Joel sighs, feeling his heartache for you. He pulls you into his chest, allowing you to soak his shirt until it sticks to his skin. His hand caresses your back, doing his best to soothe you as best he can. Though by now, he’s a pro at it. 

Eventually, your head falls into his lap. The sobs don't seem to rattle your body the same, but the tears don’t stop. 

Annoyance begins to grow in Joel. How many more times does he have to do this before you come to your senses? He thought Tommy’s stint in prison would help, yet here you are still crying on his couch. This can’t keep happening. It’s not fair to you. 

Joel loves his brother. He would do anything in this world for him, except when it comes to you. Because Joel loves you too. He loves you more and in more ways than a brother-in-law should. He hasn’t minded being just your brother-in-law and friend until now. You deserve better. 

When you finally sit up, wiping the tears from your eyes, he knows he won’t be able to stop the words at the cusp of his mouth. 

“What time is it?” You look at the clock on the wall with a sigh. “I should go home.”

“Darlin,” Joel grabs your chin. Your eyes snap to his. There’s a seriousness in his eyes you’re not sure you’ve seen before. “How long are you gonna let him keep doing this to you?”

“What?”

“You know what I mean.”

You close your eyes for a second. Another tear falls with your eyelashes. Joel swipes it away with his thumb. “What am I supposed to do, Joel? Where would we go?”

“You could stay here until you find somethin.”

A little huff of laughter manages to escape. “Yes, I’m sure Sarah would love having us invade her space when there’s a perfectly good house down the street.”

“She wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t want to leave him.” You put your hand on Joel’s wrist. “He’s a dick, but I love him.”

“It’s killing me to see you like this. You deserve better.”

He’s right. You know he’s right, but there’s something else in his eyes. The way he’s looking at you. There’s a heat in his gaze, something that feels so familiar, but you haven’t seen Tommy in years, the same look you saw that night at the beach. It sends tingles through your bloodstream, little pinpricks of excitement like the night you got yourself off in his bed, said his name and then heard him. You’ve managed to push down the question until now, but you know for certain now. He heard you. You swallow, your breath feeling like it’s being pulled out of your lungs. 

Do you tell him what Tommy said tonight? Do you tell him that you heard him that night? Do you tell him you’re being pulled into different directions?

“Joel…”

His hand falls to your waist. The other cups your neck. You feel like you’re falling toward him, helpless to stop the inevitable. “I’ve got you, Darlin.”

He’s been here. He’s always been here for you at the drop of a hat. Your firm foundation when it felt like the rest of the world was sinking. You always assumed you were just a promise he made to his brother, but what he’s been to you and what you’ve been to him, it’s more than a promise to a brother. It’s more than a love for family. 

It sparks a flame inside you. You haven’t been looked at like that in years. Haven’t been touched in just as long. Tommy hasn’t made a single move on you since he got out. He’s run every time you’ve tried to initiate something. 

Your eyes dip to his lips, centimeters from your own. Joel echoes the statement again, quieter this time as your lips touch his. He shutters under you, lips quick to take over. Arms wrap around your waist. You’re thankful for it. Thankful not to have to think about any of it. Content to let him have complete control as you straddle him.

He inhales with a faint shake to his breath, lips still touching yours. Then, he returns in full force, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth. His hands crawl up your body, greedy and searching. You give in, nails wracking through his hair. Years of pent-up desire behind both of your movements. 

You play with the top buttoning of his shirt, popping them open, lightly scraping your nails across his chest. A moan reverberates from his chest. The bulge in his pants grows against your crotch, sending electricity through your veins. You tug at another button before Joel’s hand covers yours. He manages to pull away just barely. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Not here.” He pants. “Sarah.”

Your eyes widen, realizing how easily you could’ve been spotted by your niece. Joel caresses your jaw, eyes hooded with lust. He bucks his hips up, brushing your clothed crotch again. You gasp, making him smirk. 

His voice is raspy with need. “Gotta get you into my bed, Darlin.”

You barely manage to pull yourself off his lap, your legs feeling like wet noodles. Joel smiles, he grabs your hand, tugging you behind him. He’s quiet on the stairs, eyes glued to Sarah’s bedroom door the entire way up. 

His bedroom door clicks softly behind you, your shirt thrown off before Joel can turn around. He lets out an appreciative groan, pulling his own shirt off as he stalks toward you. Want pools low in your belly, the walls of your aching cunt clench. Your breath quickens as he edges nearer, a solid arm wrapping around your waist. His contained erection pushes against you making you grin. “Happy to see me?”

“More than you know,” he growls, kissing you again. Hand roaming your exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You moan softly and then a little bit louder. Joel shakes his head. “Music to my fucking ears baby.”

He pulls and tugs at your bra, unable to get it opened to the point you’re worried he broke a clasp. Finally, you pull it over your head and let it land with your shirt. He takes you in, topless in his bedroom for just him to see. You’re a fucking work of art, water to a wanderer in the desert. 

He cups one of your breasts, pulls the other one into his mouth. You gasp, head falling back, moisture collecting in your underwear. His thumb plays with your exposed nipples while his tongue swirls over the other. You moan his name softly, being cautious of your volume.

He palms himself through his jeans, switching to your other breast as he does. You fight the urge to fall back on the bed, hands playing in his hair, nails scratching his scalp. He hums softly against your chest, sending an extra wave of pleasure through your body. He pulls back, saliva connecting the two of you, eyes glued to yours. He kisses you until the back of your knees hit his mattress, but he doesn’t let you fall to the bed yet. 

“How long has it been?” he says, muffled against your lips. His fingers play with the button of your pants

“What?”

“How long has it been?” He pulls back, the button of your pants popping open as he sinks to his knees.

Confusion flashes through your face until you realize what he’s saying, what he’s asking. You swallow, unsure of how to answer. 

“Darlin?”

It’s embarrassing because you can’t remember the last time you were touched like this. You shake your head. “I don’t know. Before?”

The sound from his throat is guttural, almost a growl. He’s been out for three months. Three fucking months and he hasn’t bothered to touch his wife. 

Joel tugs your jeans down, pressing a kiss just below your belly button, continuing down to the band of your underwear. Your pussy clenches again, dripping with need. 

“Lay down.”

You obey, bottom hitting the soft mattress first and then your back. His smell is everywhere now, seeping into your skin, just as it always has when you curled up in his bed. 

His hands run up the length of your torso, tweaking your nipples before sliding down, continuing over your thighs. He pulls your jeans free, pressing his nose to your center. “Smell so good for me, baby.”

Your stomach flutters, hips pressing into his face. He lets out a low chuckle. “I’m going to take care of you, Darlin. Don’t you worry.” 

You whine, hands gripping the sheets beside you. “Please, Joel.”

He tugs your underwear down, tortuously slow. His fingers trace down the entirety of your legs. You can see just enough under the hood of your lust-filled eyes. He props both of your legs on his shoulders, pressing slow kisses to the inside of each leg as he edges closer and closer to your core. 

When he gets there, he pauses, eyes locking on yours. It’s intentional. You have the urge to cuss him out if he doesn’t put his mouth on you soon. The need is strong enough you could cry or scream of frustration. 

Slowly, he spreads your legs, fingers creeping toward your sopping folds. He runs his pinky through them, barely nudging your clit, but it’s enough to have your back arching off the mattress. He grins up at you. He spreads you further. The evidence of your arousal glistens in the dim lights. “Fuck, Baby. So wet for me.”

You bite your lip to keep from yelling at him. “Please, Joel.” Your voice is hoarse and strained already. 

He groans, practically falling into your spread pussy. His tongue flattens against you, running the length of your folds. Your hands tangle in his hair, repeated moans falling from your lips, ones you both know you’re holding back for the sake of being quiet. You’re seeing stars and he’s barely touched you. 

Joel wants to take his time, savor the moment, memorize every piece of you. He wants to pull you apart piece by piece and put you back together again. He knows he may not get another opportunity again, but you’re addicting. He wants to pull those sounds from you on a loop and feast on your juices. He sucks your clit, swirling his tongue around it, eliciting another glorious moan from you. Each one grows louder until he pulls away for the briefest second and a pillow hits your face. 

“As much as I wanna hear you, Darlin. Use that.” He grins. “Don’t hold back on me anymore.”

His mouth is on you, doubling his efforts. Bringing you to the edge of bliss. You’re so close, moans filling the pillow case that smells like him. He inserts a finger, giving you something to clench around, softly brushing against your walls. His tongue laps over your clit and the tension building in you snaps in one beautiful crescendo. 

His thumb replaces his tongue as he works you through your orgasm, chest heaving as you catch your breath. “That’s right. Just like that.”

You toss the pillow to the side, locking eyes with him. He smirks at you, pressing a kiss over your hip. He leaves behind some of your juices, his face slick with them. Standing back to his feet, he undoes his belt shucking off his jeans and boxers. 

Your breath catches again as you hurry to sit up. He chuckles at you, catching your hands in his as you reach for him, for his cock. He pushes you back down to the bed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “As much as I’d enjoy that, Darlin. It was all I could do not to finish in my pants like a damn teenager.” 

Your breath quivers against him, words barely coherent in your brain. He releases one of your hands, reaching into his drawer for a condom.

 “Joel, I-” Your hand runs down his side, soaking in the feel of his skin. “Please.” It’s all you can manage. Years of pent-up desire begging to be freed. 

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on him. 

He rips open the foil packet. Your eyes follow his every movement as he rolls it over his cock. Once it’s on he crawls onto the bed, hovering over you, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and stars. He’s your oasis in the desert and you’re his. Your hands roam his back and shoulders and hair. He leans into your touch, soft noises of contentment falling from his lips. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you manage to flip him onto his back. His arms fly out, a thunk sounding through the room as his wrist collides with the night stand. 

You can’t help the laughter that spills from your lips as you settle on top of him. “Are you okay?”

“Glad to see you’re so concerned for my well being.” He chuckles.

“No- Really.” But you can’t stop laughing. “Are you okay?”

“My watch caught it. I’m fine.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Joel smiles, cradling your face in his hands. 

You lean down, hands spread over his chest as you press your lips to his. His hands are all over your bare skin again. He shifts your hips, positioning you over him, ready for you to sink down on to him, feel you wrap around him. 

You run your thumb over his bottom lip as his eyes roam over your face, breath held in anticipation, waiting for you.

“Are you sure?” you ask, barely a whisper. 

“Never been more sure.” His hands settle over your hips, holding them softly. 

The air seems to evaporate from the room and the world goes silent before you take that final, fatal move and sink onto him. A soft whimper leaves your lips before Joel captures your lips, swallowing it.

The moonlight reflects off his watch face. Neither of you are aware that it’s stopped, sealing your sins under its glass. 

You lay in Joel's arms long after you’ve both finished, sweaty and bare. The ceiling fan turns above you offering little reprieve. It’s nice, at first, but the longer you lay there, the longer it begins to sink in, the more you start to feel the stickiness on your skin and the unexplainable need for a shower. 

You pull out of Joel's arm’s without a word, eyes searching for your clothes strewn across the room. Why does it feel like the walls are closing in? You need to get out and think. 

“Darlin?” Joel sits up, reaching for your shoulder. 

“I should go home,” you say, rising to your feet before he can touch you. “I need to go home.”

“I told you you can stay.”

“I need to go home!” you snap, tears glistening in your eyes. This is wrong. It’s all wrong. 

“Shit,” Joel’s head drops. He lets out a huff, a hint of sarcasm to it. You grab your shirt, pulling it on, too busy locating your items to pay him any mind. “So that’s it? You’re just going to go back? Nothing’s gonna change.”

Your head snaps up as you pull on your jeans. “This can’t happen.” Your chest shakes. “It shouldn’t have happened, Joel. We both know that.”

“Or maybe it was supposed to.” He slides out of the bed, pulling on his boxers.

“Joel-”

“He doesn’t treat you right. We both know that.”

“He’s my husband!”

“He doesn’t get to walk all over you just because he’s your husband!”

“That doesn’t make this right!”

“It was the most right my life’s felt in years,” Joel says, eyes landing on yours. You bite back tears, trying not to let him get to you as you turn away, but he grabs your wrist. “It always does with you.”

You turn your head away from him without a response.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.” His thumbs press into your palm. 

You slip his grip. “I love him. I know I shouldn’t anymore, after everything, but I do.” 

“I’ve always been here.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” You want to curse as your emotion wells up again. How much can a person take in a single night? “My life would be so much simpler if it was you.”

“It could be.”

“No,” your head shakes. It hurts more than you expect it too. You do love him. You wish it could be him. As if the past three years weren’t enough, you know what it’s like to be with him now, but it’s still Tommy, and you hate yourself for it. 

Joel seems to read it in your eyes, the sadness, the acceptance, lingering longing for what could have been. His throat bobbles as he steps back to give you space. You release a slow breath. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Don't apologize. I should have known better.”

You cringe. You want to tell him it’s not all on him, but he’s giving you an out. You’re too exhausted not to take it. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Yeah.” Joel moves about his room like he’s searching for something. 

You’re not sure if you should say something more, or leave. Leaving would be easier. A clean break, and you take it, but Joel’s voice stops you before you can open the door. “He wasn’t faithful to you.”

Your hand freezes over the door knob, eyes squeezing shut. You can’t do this. You can’t have this conversation right now, but your body is frozen in place. 

“I think you should know.”

Nails bite into your palms as you steady your breath, eyes focused on the wood of the door in front of you as rage begins to grow in you. “He already told me, but thanks for dredging that hurt back up three years after the fact.”

“Darlin-”

You spin on your heels. “Fuck you, Joel!” 

Joel’s eye’s fly wide. “I just thought you should know!”

“No, you were using that for your own good!” You can’t take this. Joel throwing Tommy’s betrayal in your face years after the fact is its own form of treachery.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I live in a constant state of hurt! You were supposed to be my reprieve!” Your fists shake, voice raising. You don’t care if you wake Sarah, you don’t care if your sins come to light. There’s only so much a person can take in a single night. “If you actually cared about me, you wouldn’t have kept that a secret for years! And you damn sure wouldn’t have used it for your own good!”

Joel doesn’t break eye contact with you, but you see the regret fill his eyes. Fire buzzes in your bloodstream and tears prickle your eyes. You’re not sure how you have any left to shed. In the blink of an eye, you flee from his room and home before he can attempt to draw you back in.

You take the long way home, letting the Texas darkness swallow you whole until you’re ready to go back home. 

The house is dark and quiet. You flip on the lamp, a deep tension forming in your head. Tommy sits on the couch, eyes latching onto yours. He looks like a lost puppy. Your breath catches. You must look a mess- eyes stained red, and clothes wrinkled. You worry you smell like sex or Joel, running over the nights happening for any chance Joel left a mark on you- not that Tommy would notice that. 

“I was getting worried about you.”

You toss your keys on the end table, throwing off your shoes with a sarcastic huff. “That’s ironic.” Tommy cringes. For once, you’re the closed-off one, too emotionally hardened or drained for his antics. 

“I deserve that.”

“Ya think?” You cross your arms. 

“Baby…” He eases to his feet. “I’m sorry- for all of it.”

“Sorry? Sorry! What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Tommy!”

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It reminds you of Joel. The thought makes your blood run cold. “I don’t know.”

A humorless laugh leaves your throat. “You don’t know?”

“What the fuck can I say? I fucked up. Quite frankly, I don’t know why you’re still here!”

“Because I love you, you fucking idiot!”

“Why!?”

The question catches you off guard. “What the fuck do you mean? ‘Why?’”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“Wow, you’re on a roll tonight.” Your eyes roll. 

“I mean it.”

“Do you want me to leave, Tommy?” Yours and his transgressions filter before your eyes, making you cringe. Two wrongs don’t make a right. “You're done with me and you can’t bring yourself to say it?”

“I’m not good enough for you anymore!” Tears swell in his eyes. “I’ve done nothing but hurt you! But I can’t let you go!”

“I don’t want you to let me go, you big idiot!”

“Why?”

Your eyes flutter shut as you take a deep breath. Joel behind your eyelids. His stability. His care. His love. You could have that, but it would never quench your longing for Tommy. For better or worse, he’s yours. You want him even if it’s bad for you. “I don’t know.”

Tommy enters your space. His arms slip around your waist, eliciting a soft gasp from a place inside you you thought long gone. 

“You still believe in me?” He presses his forehead against yours. The callus on your heart starts to lift away, easier than you want to admit. He’s still in there somewhere, the man you fell in love with. You’re seeing more of him than you have in a long time. His hands feel hot against your back and he tugs you closer. You’re compliant under his touch. Whatever he wants from you, you’ll let him have it if he’ll just stays like this. 

You sniff back the tears, head nodding. “Yeah. I think I always will.”

“Let me make it better. I’m going to do better, Baby.” His breath is hot on your ear, lips pressing right behind it, and then to the corner of your jaw. Your body takes over as you lean into his touch. “I’m going to be here and present for you and Nathaniel.”

“You promise?” If the Tommy you fell in love with comes back to you, you won’t survive losing him again. You feel his hands in places he’s not even touching, heat sprouting all over your body. 

“I promise, Baby.” He kisses your cheek and then your forehead. 

You feel the pull of his current tugging you back under, clouding your judgment. You should send him packing or at least to the guest room until you wash his brother’s scent from your skin, but your body calls for him. Tommy’s touch is your addiction, your late nights running wild, your stint in prison. 

His breath fans over your face and before you know it, you’re pulling his lips to yours. The undertow sweeps you away, tugging you under the surface. Tommy’s never been the safe option, but you never claimed to need safe. 

He tugs you up the stairs. The lock on your bedroom door clicks and he’s on you like a starved man, hands wreaking havoc on your body, pulling clothing from your body like pretty wrapping paper on christmas morning. It doesn’t matter that you were sated well over an hour ago, your body responds to Tommy like a horny teenager. He knows you. He knows how to touch your body just right, he knows exactly how to make you writhe and moan and scream, and he hasn’t forgotten either. He plans to put his memory to good use tonight. 

Your hands are as ravenous as his, tugging his hair, at the buttons of his shirt, and pants. His teeth scrapes your bottom lip before he lays you down on the bed, bared to him and the moon streaming through the curtains. He smiles at you. It’s breathtaking. 

He takes his dear, sweet time with you, pulling you apart piece by piece and gluing you back together. Each time your brain dares to wonder into forbidden territory, he reminds you why he’s your husband, that he still knows you better than anyone else. It erases the rest of the night from your memory and the last two years until it’s just you and him, coming together as one like it was always meant to be. You and him. Bonnie and Clyde. 

He finishes deep inside of you, a feeling you’ve missed. All of it you’ve missed. His skin on yours, sweat mingling together. You lay there staring up at him in awe. He locks eyes with you. He’s there. Your Tommy. The Tommy you see every time you think about him, with sparkling eyes and a mischievous grin.

He leans down, lips pressing to your forehead. He wipes a stray tear from your cheek. “I never want to be the cause of these again.”

“Let’s be real, Tommy, you made me cry even when things were good.”

He chuckles, falling beside you. His chest moves with his heavy panting. You think he might be the most handsome man you’ve ever met. “Yeah, suppose I did.” 

“You’re gonna try, for real?”

“I’ll probably fuck up here and there.” He gathers you into his arms, skin pressed to skin as you breathe in the same air. 

“I know you will.” You tease. He scowls, but it’s all in good fun. Another flash of fresh air, a promise that things could go back to normal. 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

You laugh, fingers tangling in his black waves. His hair has gotten so long. You wonder if he’ll keep it this way. “It’s gonna take at least that.”

He nods, a hint of seriousness showing in his face. “I know.”

And you know he means it. 

“I think you should go to that group Micky mentioned. You need people who understand.”

Tommy shifts slightly. He doesn’t like the idea. That much is clear. “Baby…”

“This is how you do better, Tommy.” The firmness in your voice catches you off guard. Tommy too. 

He nods, Adam's Apple bobbing. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“Every week?”

“Every week.”

The next morning, you wake up the same way you fell asleep, in your husband’s arms. 

Tommy never says a word, but he smells it on you that night. Something familiar, but out of place. It doesn’t belong on you, but he can’t put his finger on it. He knows what it means. He’s no idiot, and he doesn’t blame you for any of it. He’s had his indiscretions. Lord knows you’re allowed yours. 

You sit on the front porch with your coffee the next morning, the creaking of the porch swing playing in the background of your racing mind. You feel guilty for all of it. What you did to Tommy. What you did to Joel. But more so, you feel guilty because you know you can keep this buried for the rest of your life if it means keeping Tommy, and you’re pretty sure it makes you no better than him. At least Tommy had the balls to own up to what he did, but Joel isn’t some random girl at a bar. He’s your friend. Tommy’s brother. If it had been some random man, you could own up to it, but not this. Not Joel. 

“Aunt Bonnie!” 

The familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts as Sarah waves from the sidewalk, other hand clutched tightly in Joel’s. 

“Hey!” You force a smile to your face, waving back to her as they climb the porch stairs. She rushes over to you, arms open to give you a hug. You return the gesture, crushing her against your frame. “What’s up?”

“We’re just walking. I wanted to come say hi.”

You kiss her cheek. “Well I feel honored. Nathaniel and Uncle Tommy are inside if you want to say hi to them too.”

“Okay,” Sarah returns your kiss, curls bouncing behind her as she darts inside. 

You keep your eyes focused off to the side as Joel’s footsteps draw closer. Your finger plays along the rim of your coffee mug. You feel small, like a child in trouble. Joel eases next to you on the swing, shoulder brushing yours as he does. You bite your lip, knee bouncing softly.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says. “I shouldn’t have let that happen last night.”

Your eyes glaze over. “It’s not all on you.”

“Let it.” Your head snaps toward him. He looks tired, like he didn’t sleep much last night. He clasps his hands together, leaning over his knees. “You weren’t in a good place. I took advantage of that. Let it be my fault.”

Tears glaze over your eyes. He’s giving you an out. 

“Joel…”

He nods at you, a silent assurance. You shouldn’t take it, but you do. You lean into it, and it covers the guilt some, even if it’s all lies. You knew what you were doing. 

He kisses your forehead as the words leave your mouth. “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Darlin.” More lies to make you feel less guilty. He’ll feed them to you as long as you need him to. 

He stands up, eyes flickering between your door and the way back to his house. 

“I can walk Sarah home later.” 

“Thanks.” He nods before leaving your front porch. He doesn’t look back.  

Things with Tommy don’t magically get better overnight. Life doesn’t work that way. It takes time. It’s gradual, sometimes it feels like you’re moving backward, but slowly Tommy comes back into himself. He’s never the exact man you fell in love with, the one you married, but you’re not the same person either. Time changes things. People grow, but with some work, you find new versions of yourselves that still fit together. Most importantly, this new version is still your Tommy.

Your memories with Joel don’t go away. You keep them tucked deep in your soul, but the two of you find your new rhythm, your friendship too important to lose. 

One Year Later

The five of you gather at Joel’s on Sunday morning for breakfast, rotating houses each week. It’s a carry over from the routine you and Joel developed. It’s different, obviously. You and Nathaniel don’t stay the night. It takes time for Tommy to find his place in the well oiled unit the two of you became. It feels awkward and clunky at times, but you get through it and slowly the kinks work themselves out. 

Joel bounds down the stairs, hair wet from his shower as he joins you and Tommy around the coffee pot. 

“Figured y'all would have breakfast ready by now,” Joel says, squeezing next to Tommy to get to the coffee. 

“Last I checked, we’re guests in your house,” you say, quirking an eyebrow, teasing lilt in your voice. Joel’s eyes roll but a smirk quirks his lips none the less.

Tommy hears a ringing in his ears as the scent of Joel’s body wash filters through his senses, still strong on his brother’s skin. His eyes narrow at your and Joel’s banter. There’s nothing unusual about it. He knows you two are close. It doesn’t bother him, but he knows that scent. His mind pulls it from the fading archives quickly. He smelled it on you that night.  

Tommy sets his mug down, not saying anything as you and Joel go back and forth over breakfast traditions, the two of you falling into predetermined roles in the kitchen. You dance around each other, like a sixth sense, always knowing where the other one is and where they’re going. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tommy’s  not sure how he hadn’t caught it before. Maybe his brain wasn’t ready. He’s lived a lot of his recent life in a fog, maybe it had just cleared enough now. 

He doesn’t catch any longing glances or stolen touches. Everything is above board. He knows he has no right to be angry, not after what he's done. He’d pushed you away. Maybe he even pushed you into Joel’s bed that night. Maybe there were nights before, but he hasn’t smelled another man, hasn’t smelled Joel on your skin since. You’ve spent every night next to him, in his arms, body pressed against his. At the end of the day, that’s all he needs. 

He can get past the hurt like you did for him. He can push away the questions. How long did you wait? How often did you find solace in his brother’s bed? He wants to ignore the questions, stomp them down so they don’t fester, don’t ruin what you’ve helped him rebuild. 

“Daddy?” Nathaniel tugs on Tommy’s shirt, pulling him from his thoughts. 

He smiles, pulling his son into his arms with an exaggerated groan. At five and a half, it won’t be much longer before he’s too big to pick up. It hits again, like a sledgehammer to a cinderblock wall, how much of his son’s life he’s missed. Nathaniel laughs, pressing his forehead to Tommy’s. Is there a sweeter sound in this world? 

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“I love you.” He whisper yells.

Tommy chuckles mimicking Nathaniel’s tone. “I love you too.”

Your laugh floats through. Tommy looks up to find you smiling at them, so much love and affection sparkling in your eyes. Something stirs in him, possessiveness, maybe as he strides across the room, shifting Nathaniel to his side so he can pull you flush against him. You melt against him. That’s how he knows, knows you’re still his and he's yours. He won’t ever say a word. He won’t risk losing you again or causing you more grief than he has.

Tommy grins at you, voice lowering to a growl. “And I love you, Momma.” Then he kisses you like he’d reclaiming you. 

Neither of you catches the way Joel turns his back and puts himself out of ear shot. You never catch the way his gaze lingers. He conceals the way his fingers itch to touch you like he used to. 

Nathaniel squeals in disgust, sliding out of his father’s arms. You both share a laugh and then both Tommy’s arms are tightly around your waist, lips pressed to yours again. Your hands rake through his long curls.

As long as you still look at him like that, continue to touch him like that, Tommy doesn’t care that you fucked his brother. Your heart belongs to him. 

Taglist: @pamasaur@alltheotps@rizzraa@moel-jiller@misstokyo7love

@justagalwhowrites@pedritosgfreal@mellymbee@sarahhxx03@lizzie-cakes@sixhours

@duckybird101@anoverwhelmingdin@nervoushottee@caitlynsixxx@kaykay0315@stevie75

@millercontracting@cals-laundry@jessthebaker@noisynightmarepoetry@vickie5446@mewantpeepaw@tulips2715@leggtostandon

@la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @lotusbxtch@ravenn-darkholme @kungfucapslock @spookyxsam

@theorakaenslayer

[the-froschamethyst4]

The Sun isn’t even Down

𖤐Paring: Husband! Alejandro x Tired! Wife! Readers

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, married couple, some hints of smut, flirting, language, kissing, badly translated Spanish, mention of children,

𖤐Summary: Y/n and Alejandro have married for 5+ years now, and Alejandro still can't get over how many times this girl takes naps

————

————

8:00AM

Alejandro sits on the couch after waking up, he made his cup of coffee, and sipping on it as he tries to find something to watch on the TV.

As he settled with a random channel and watched it he could hear the sound of shuffling, knowing it was his wife, he smiles looking over the couch seeing her.

Messy hair, over sized t-shirt, no short or pants, and fuzzy animal slippers. She let's out a yawn and made herself her own cup of coffee.

"You look so beautiful," he says.

"I look like I was fighting with a rat...and the rat won," she says, pouring her creamer into her mug and moving to her husband, placing her mug on the coffee table in front of them, her feet propped up on the table and she hugs his side earning a smile from his lips.

As he focused back on the TV, it wasn't long till he hears soft snores. He looks down and sees Y/n passed out.

"Really? You just woke up," he whispers.

Alejandro and Y/n have been married for 5+ years, and all Y/n seemed to do in her spare time was sleep. She works of course and she puts on a fake smile and chugs close to 3 cups of coffee just to keep herself awake and an energy drink coming close behind the coffee.

She tries to stay awake at work, but once she's home kicking her heels off, she plops on the couch and sleeps for who knows how long could be an hour and could be 7, it depends on her day.

Hell there was time she came home at 6 in the afternoon and fell asleep not waking till 5:30 the next morning.

Alejandro rubbed her messy hair, she stirs in her sleep and opened her eyes.

"I was sleeping."

"You just woke up 10 seconds ago," he tells her with a chuckle.

"I didn't get any good sleep last night."

"Mi amor, you were passed out, I tried to wake you up to roll over back on your side and you didn't, so I had to sleep on the little space I had."

"Well, you hog the covers."

"You do that too, amor (love)," she just pouts as Alejandro chuckled and kissed her temple. "You're so cure when you pout," he says.

Y/n's phone started to ring seeing it was her mother-in-law, Carmen.

"Why is my mami calling you?"

"Shh," Y/n shushed her husband and rolled over her side facing away from Alejandro and answered her mother-in-law with a yawn coming out.

Alejandro just listened to Y/n as she spoke to his mother. His mom was very loving towards Y/n, Alejandro was very nervous his family might not like her, but boy was he wrong.

If Carmen wanted to, she'd probably would've adopt Y/n.

"Mami!" Alejandro says next to Y/n's ear.

"Yeah, that was your son," Y/n says, picking at her overgrown nails needing them to be cut and polished. "She says hi."

"I wanna hear her say that-MAMI!" Alejandro took his wife's phone, she allowed him to take it and she rolls over to face him. "Mama, por que no me llamas? (Mommy, why don't you call me?)" He whines to his mother.

Y/n could just barely hear her mother-in-law. "Ocupado! Desde cuando? (busy! since when?)" He says. He groans and gives the phone back to his wife who kept talking to each other on their pervious topic.

"Rude," Alejandro says as Y/n shooed him away.

--------

10:13AM

Alejandro was getting ready for him to go to the gym, putting on a sleeveless shirt, gym shorts and his tennis shoes. He found his headphone making sure they were connected to his phone.

He jogs down the stairs seeing the channel was changed to something else, he smiles and leans over the couch, seeing his wife.

Asleep

Of course. Alejandro scoffs and gently taps her butt jolting her awake from the sudden smack on her bare butt. She smacks his hand away earning a chuckle. She jokingly took her slipper off hitting his arm.

"Asshole, I was dreaming about the beach," she says.

"I know, amor," he leans over the couch kissing her cheek giving her one more pat on the butt and walking to the front door. "I'm heading to the gym...do you want me to help you with the garden?"

If Alejandro mentions something like helping with the garden or having to do anything around the house, Y/n will usually stay up and do it.

"Huh? The garden? I mean...I can do it..." she says, popping her head over the couch to look at her husband.

"You sure?" She just nods. "Okay, I'll be back," he says, walking out of the house.

Y/n rubs her tired eyes and goes upstairs stretching and getting some clothes on. A black tank top and some jean shorts.

--------

12:00PM

Y/n tried to stay awake as she was digging some holes in the freshly de-weeded garden patch. Alejandro spent all day yesterday taking out weeds, a watering the dirt to make it easy for Y/n to plant in the garden and with the rain from last night also helped.

Y/n teared the seed packet of sunflowers and planting them. She sits on the knees wiping sweat from her forehead, she took a swing of her water when something soft brushed against her.

She turns seeing the neighborhood street cat brush up against her. He didn't belong to anyone, but she called him Pinto Bean or Bean for short, his little paw pads look like Pinto Beans hints his name.

She coos at him and picks him up kissing his soft head. No one else can pick him up scared he might be carrying around diseases or something, but he loves Y/n because she feeds him and give him attention, but still let's him roam around.

She placed him back on the ground and he stayed with her the entire time she was planting the garden. She could hear a loud exhaust, she looks up seeing Alejandro pulling into the driveway.

Bean stayed by her as Alejandro popped out of his car.

"What's the cat doing here?" He asked.

"He's helping, leave him alone, Alejandro," Alejandro doesn't like the fact that Bean comes around looking for food and attention from Y/n.

"Go shoo-"

"Alejandro!" Y/n smacks her husbands leg. Bean crawled onto Y/n lap as she was still putting seeds into the ground.

----------

Alejandro sat in a lawn chair with water in his hand as he watched Y/n, she bends over in the dirt planting tomato's next. He watched as her butt was on display in front of him, he couldn't help but smirk.

He gets up and walks behind her, she sees a shadow loom over her. She looks up to him standing over her.

"What?"

"You just look so sexy, all dirty, sweaty, the sun beating on you, you small huffs of breaths...you drive me insane, amor," he bends down kissing her lips, cupping her cheeks to deepen the kiss.

"A-Alejandro, not now...please."

"Tired?" She nods as he chuckles picking her up and taking her into the house.

------------

5:00PM

Y/n was on the couch on her back using Alejandro's thighs as her personal pillow. She opens her eyes hearing the TV all of a sudden get loud, she rolls on her side facing the TV and watched what he was watching.

He placed his big hand on her waist gently rubbing it, and cooing at her.

"I've been thinking-"

"It' never good when you've been thinking."

"Hey now. I'm serious...I was talking with Rudy the other day and him and his wife are...pregnant..." She looks up at him knowing where this might be going. "I was wondering...if you were ever up for it...we can try?"

"Try," she sits up and looks at him. "With me always being tired, you want me to be even more tired?"

"I love you being tired baby, who cares, I'll be taking care of you anyways with our child. You carrying our child, I think...we could do it," he say, cupping her chin and pulling her into a kiss.

"Are we even ready?"

"I feel like a lot of people ask that, we are financially stable, we have a big house, I work a lot, you work a lot, we save our money all the time, I think we are," he tells her.

"Okay, so...when shall we start?"

"Now," he picks her up taking her into the bedroom.

[okieedokes]

i’ll take care of you | john egan x f! reader

summary: you take care of Bucky after a fight (will probably write a pt 2)

warnings: swearing

word count: 1,386

requests and messages are open, enjoy :))

5:00 am

It was your favourite time of day. The sun was yet to rise, the camp enveloped in silence. Wrapped in your cardigan, you traverse from your sleeping quarters to the infirmary, fingers clutching the fabric tightly. Your hands tremble, fumbling with the lock as the winds slam the door shut behind you.

Upon entering the hospital, you are shocked to see every bed empty.

You should’ve been happy; the soldiers you had grown to love over the past few weeks that you had been stationed there, were all in good health. However, the vacant beds stirred feelings of unease within you, knowing there was a mission scheduled this morning.

You tried to keep busy by pre-filling syringes with the necessary medicines while humming softly to yourself.

As you begin to settle into the familiar routine, a sudden commotion from outside the building interrupts. The sound of argument draws nearer, and you instinctively listen.

“Get your dirty fucking hands off me, Curt, I said I’m fine!”You hear one man growl, clearly resisting against the other.

“Hey, I won’t let you lead us over Germany until you get checked out.” You hear an Irish voice reply firmly.

“Yeah, fuck that!” The another retorts.

You step back from the door, as they scuffle outside, silently hoping they won't catch you eavesdropping.

You watch them struggle against the handle before collectively throwing a man to his knees before you.

As you rush to help the man to his feet, the others vanish before you can even catch a glimpse of their faces.

“Gosh, are you okay?” You ask, placing the soldier's arm around your shoulders to assist him in standing.

"I'm sorry, miss. My buddies have this sick game they like to play where they—" His voice trails off as his gaze meets yours, and in that moment, you become acutely aware of the proximity between your bodies as you stand face to face.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m Bucky.” The soldier's droopy eyelids betray his inebriation, but his striking handsomeness distracts you.

“What happened to your head?” You are used to the attempts at flirtation from lonely soldiers and have become a master at deflecting them. This instance was no different.

“I fell,” Bucky says, smirking, aware that the bruise forming underneath his brow was the mark of a fistfight.

“I see…”You reply with sarcastic deliberation.

“You have a two-centimetre laceration above your left eye; it will need stitches.” You determine, placing a hand to his temple as you examine the wound. Bucky flinches at your touch before relaxing, resting his tired head against your palm.

“C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.” You mumble, taking the soldier's hand in yours as you guide him to the nearest cot.

Usually, you wouldn't extend such tender treatment, but you couldn't help feeling sorry for Bucky, as it was clear he was in pain, not just physically.

“You never told me your name.” He winces as you tend to his wounds with a wet rag.

“It’s not like you’ll remember when you wake up.” You remark playfully.

“I have a hunch I might," he replies, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. You roll your eyes and retrieve one of your prepared syringes.

“Close your eyes; I’m gonna help you get some rest.” You hum as you administrator the morphine into his arm.

“Good night, sweetheart”, Bucky mumbles as he succumbs to the medicine.

You don’t hesitate in stitching the wound above his brow, knowing that the pilot would be needed within a few hours. As you worked, you couldn’t help but graze his features with your fingers, taking in every detail of his perfect face. You stroked his forehead and played with his hair as he slept soundly, thankful that he was the only patient who required your attention.

His soft snores were oddly comforting, akin to a gentle lullaby, prompting you to rest your head against the soldier's side before drifting off yourself.

8:07 am

You awake to the gentle shakes of your fellow attendee, presumably just starting their shift. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realise you'd fallen asleep on the job. However, what truly mortifies you is the sight of the soldier's empty bed. You cringe at the thought that he might have seen you in such a state.

“You best get organised, dear; I think it will be a busy day.” Your fellow nurse warns, gesturing to the sounds of explosives erupting from above.

“Yes, ma’am.” You answer before rushing to your station.

The day goes by as predicted. Soldiers were carried in by the dozen, all in various stages of injury. You barely have time to think as you rush between patients, attending to everything from scrapes to bullet wounds. Amid the chaos, your thoughts drift back to the pilot from that morning.

Was his mission successful? Or could it have gone even worse than imagined? The thought makes your stomach churn.

As the unsettling notion sinks in, you busy yourself by tending to a patient's wound, though your hands betray your nerves with a noticeable shake.

“You okay there?” The man you’re attending to questions.

“Yes sir…I just…have you heard any news on Bucky?” You spill, not been able to contain your worries any longer.

“Oh, that son of a bitch? I got hit pretty early, so I don’t remember much, but he’s one of the best we got, I’m sure he’s already back, pouring himself a whisky.” The man chuckled, your concern seemingly lost on him.

"Thank you, sir." With a nod, you step away to treat another patient, but the worries linger in your thoughts.

Before you knew it, the infirmary was quiet again, and you were relieved of your duties. As you journey back to your quarters, you start to wonder if the whole interaction was a dream conjured by your loneliness.

That is, until a hand grasps your shoulder. You turn to face Bucky. The cut above his eye was healing well, and you felt relieved that last night's encounter was, in fact not a delusion.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you everywhere; they wouldn’t let me go in.” He pants, gesturing to the hospital.

"Ah, yeah, it's been quite busy," you mumble, suddenly nervous as you stand before the Major’s imposing figure.

"Hey, about last night, I wanted to apologise. You shouldn't have had to deal with that," he says, his eyes cast down, clearly ashamed.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I couldn't be of more help in the morning…” You watch as a grin graces his lips.

“Oh yes, I woke, and your head was resting against me. It was very sweet.” He recounts, and your cheeks burn red.

"I meant to say goodbye, but I didn't want to disturb the sleeping beauty," he adds with a sheepish smile, eliciting an embarrassed giggle from you.

“Anyways, I came to ask your name and if you would join me for a drink?” He offers.

His enticing grin makes the offer hard to resist. However, you're mindful of the expectations regarding sharing drinks with a soldier, choosing to maintain your distance to avoid potential heartbreak.

“I’m sorry Major, but I’m not one for mixing work and play.” You reply, avoiding his gaze.

“If you think my intentions are unhonourable, I promise you I just want to get to know the kind girl who looked after me this morning.” He teases lightly, yet his eyes convey sincerity, filling you with a warm, comforting sensation.

“If you’re not a drinker, can I at least accompany you on a walk?” He adds, extending an arm for you to grasp.

"Why not," you concede, intertwining both your arms with his as he leads you down the path.

"So, tell me about yourself, Y/N," Bucky begins, and you freeze at the sound of your name, which you had never disclosed to the Major.

"How did you get my name?" You ask, astonished.

"Well, I asked around the cockpit this morning. Turns out you have more admirers than just me," The pilot admits.

Your heart sinks at the realisation that among the many pilots you've conversed with, Bucky was the only one who ignited sentiments within you.

This boy already had you under his spell.

[hazbmymhotel]

I promise, this image is NOT a spoiler, but I did make me laugh way too hard

Chapter 11) Zip, Zip

 

“So, Angie, I'm actually royally pissed!” Cherri Bomb opened the top of her latte to dump in a coffee liquor. “You always said if you ever got married, I'd be there!”

 

“He was bleedin’ all over the place, was I supposed to call you?” Angel leaned back, sipping his own cappuccino.

 

“Uh! Yes!!” Cherri recapped her drink. “Especially since it's this guy!!”

 

Husk looked up, a madeleine in his teeth.

 

“I thought you were just gonna fuck him.”

 

“He's old fashioned,” Angel lied. “Plus I've never been married before. I figured it'd be fun!” He grabbed Husk's chin and leaned down, biting off the other half of the cookie.

 

Cherri laughed into her hand and shook her head. “He's ancient.”

 

“We're the same age,” Angel argued, swallowing his mouth full. “I've just been in hell longer!”

 

“I'm also sitting right here,” Husk informed her.

 

“You look rough,” Cherri told him directly. “Like, not only the shit Angie’s insane brother did!” Angel winced quietly as she went on. “But you look like a rug!”

 

“Brutal,” Husk sighed, sipping his breve.

 

Angel jumped to his defense, “Husker isn't sleepin’ well!”

 

“Oh!!” Cherri was more interested now! “Are you two knocking boots all night?” She squealed as Husk’s blush showed through his fur. “Ang. Is he good?”

 

“So good!” Angel gushed. “I'm gettin’ spoiled, it's gonna ruin me.”

 

Cherri lowered her voice and leaned in. “So are you seriously quitting porn? Word is that Valentino is losing his fucking mind.”

“How'd you find out?!” Angel asked in surprise. “It was that sketchy director wasn't it?”

 

“Travis,” Husk bristled.

 

“Seriously? That's what you know about my videos?” Angel looked at him flatly. “My foot-obsessed-director?”

 

“He's a piece of shit!” Husk answered.

 

Cherri snorted. “The old pussy cat's right, though. It was totally Travis. He's whining about it online!” She showed Angel her phone. “But how'd you pull that off??”

 

“Through marriage. It's complicated, Cherri, I kinda wanted a break from explainin’ all my bullshit…It's been a long day with Nickie and other fuckin’ garbage.” Angel sighed and crossed his second set of arms. “Plus Husker isn't allowed to sleep anymore, so that's gonna be a whole thing.”

 

“I bet I can still sleep,” Husker said with a huff. “It's probably an overreaction.”

Now Cherri was even more confused. “... Because of all the fucking?”

 

“No, because he got all wrecked up by Nickie! See! I didn't wanna talk about it!!”

 

“You brought it up, Baby,” Husk said, but wrapped his tail around Angel’s leg. “But it's probably just PTSD or some shit.”

 

“Does PTSD make people scared of zippers? It don't make no sense,” Angel crossed his arms tighter.

 

“I mean, PTSD made me scared of egg salad for a good few years,” Vaggie swirled her cup around. “But what did zippers do?”

 

“It's a man covered in zippers. I think they're his skin,” Husk answered with a shudder.

 

“Oh, hot though,” Cherri grinned, “How many dicks do you think he's hiding?”

 

“Fourteen,” said Angel, “but he ate them all.”

 

Husk shuddered again, fluffing his wing nervously. “Not every time I fall asleep is a nightmare.”

 

“Do you think Vaggie might be full of shit?” Angel asked. “Over exaggeratin’ a bad dream?”

 

“They're just fuckin’ dreams,” Cherri agreed.

 

Husk nodded. “...But maybe I should stay awake until we figure it out.”

 

Angel sipped his cappuccino and considered. “Yeah, you've been sleepin' like 14 hours a day since your contract with Alastor broke, Husk, you sure about that?”

“Well he's a cat!” Cherri laughed. “What's he supposed to do?”

“To be fair, I was on morphine for like 5 of those days…” Husk tightened his tail around Angel’s leg.

 

“Do you got any left?” Cherri asked hopefully. “I'll trade you for some uppers. These little babies will keep you awake!” She pulled some pills from her pocket. “Angel, you want some?”

 

“Mmmmnnnnah, I'm actually handlin' sobriety pretty well today! I haven't even drank since yesterday.”

“Fuck. Married life is making you lame!” Cherri looked at Husk. “But how about you, Kitty?”

Husk considered. “I'm probably fine…” he took another sip, but stopped to yawwwn. He finished with a blep, his little tongue hanging out.

“You're so eepy seepy,” Angel stamped his feet as he squealed.

“You're such a furry, Angel,” Cherri said, even though she was equally charmed. “But seriously, you look like you're about to konk out, old man.”

Husk sighed heavily. He looked at Angel Dust, and then at Cherri’s hands. “What is it?”

“A bunch of good shit!”

“I got morphine back at the hotel…take it if you want it…is this gonna fuck me up?” Husk reluctantly held out his paw, letting her drop several multicolored capsules into it.

“Oh, yes it is!” Cherri shouted excitedly.

Angel tried not to look concerned. “I mean, you think he can handle all that, Cher?”

Cherri waved her hand at him. “Pshaw, he's old enough to be my great grandpa. Right, Huskee, you can handle it.”

“You can seriously just call me Husk,” he told her firmly. “But if it'll keep me awake…” Husk swallowed them with a mouthful of his drink. “It's not like it'll kill me.”

“Sure, right,” Angel said, tossing his coffee cup into a trash bin. “Are you two fuckers ready to go out then? We'll wanna be somewhere loud when those kick in…Husker, you're probably gonna wanna dance.”

 

“Oh?” Husk hopped to his feet, catching himself from falling with his cane. “I'll definitely take up less space on the dance floor now–Baby, you don't have to look so sad every time I bring up my wings.”

Angel covered his mouth and looked away slightly. “I'm not.”

“Oh my God, Angie, you're becoming a tittering mom to this old dude. You sure you don't want a pick-me-up? Maybe a little coke??” Cherri checked her purse.

“Cherri, for fuck's sake, I'm not doin��� it no more, so stop askin’!” Angel grit his teeth.

“Sorry, sorry, fuck! I'm not used to you bein’ all responsible.” Cherri sucked her teeth and stood up. “Are you still drinking at all? Or are you completely boring now.”

Angel scoffed and reached out for Husk's empty cup, tossing it away for him before storming outside. “I think I need a drink to deal with this today.” He rubbed between his eyes.

Husk watched him stand outside of the coffee shop, ears back.

“What the fuck is his problem?!” Cherri directed herself at Husk.

“Coming down is hard,” Husk said simply, “he's been without for almost two weeks…it's a hard hump to get over.”

“Could you go give him a hard fucking hump so we can get on with our day?!”

 

“Sex won't solve withdrawals, sweetheart,” Husk felt a prickling in the back of his head. “Just give us a minute.” He walked himself outside, lightly touching one of Angel’s arms.

“Hey,” Husk said, voice soft and gentle.

Angel frowned before turning his hand, reaching to hold Husk’s. “...hey.”

“Do you want to ditch her?” Husk kissed his fingers.

Angel laughed a little before frowning again. “No…getting off this shit is hard, Whiskers.”

“I know.” Husk rubbed his cheek against the back of Angel’s hand. “We could go home.”

“Charlie will harass me into doin’ somethin’ today…I don't think so.” He squeezed Husk's hand. “Can we go to a club? I wanna see you dance like an idiot on drugs.”

“I get the feeling I'll be doing that anywhere we go,” Husk said, kissing up his arm.

Angel giggled and swatted him off. “Okay, okay, let's go.” He turned and waved at Cherri to come outside. “Stop fuckin' offering me drugs today, bitch.”

“Fiiiine,” Cherri hugged Angel’s arms on his other side. “I just wanna show you a good time, you know that!”

Angel sighed. “Yea. I know. But not today. Today I wanna remember my husband lookin’ stupid.”

“Then let's gooo!!” Cherri said, tugging them forward with her. “We're actually early enough to catch some of the fuckin' drink deals today!!”

In spite of the bright red daylight outside, the club was dark and only lit up with cool, flashing colors. The music was thumping out enough to make Husk's wing twitch each time. He couldn't make out the words, but it didn't matter!

 

Instead, it felt good. Husk's brain had started to itch, and the music was scratching in a satisfying beat. He heard Angel laugh, which made him feel warm. Cherri yelled something about his footwork.

Husk was pretty sure at some point he'd gotten his hands on a trumpet, and he jammed out to the music while the crowd howled in excitement. It reminded him of a time he was high out of his mind in a club in Chicago back in the early 40’s.

Husk was barely focused on what was coming out of his mouth. He knew he was sat between Cherri and Angel Dust. He couldn't keep his hands off of Angel’s legs. “You're gorgeous,” he said over and over.

“Enough about that! I wanna know about Chicago!!” Cherri demanded.

“Oh, fuck, I was 12 years into a dead marriage, and I was just craving something different and wild! I hadn't done magic in ages, and I completely crashed my own stage!!” Husk realized there was a drink in his hand, so he gulped it down. “I was so fuckin’ embarrassed, but when I was having a drink after, I got to playing. Some asshole handed me a saxophone, and I fucking love blowing horns.”

 

“I fuckin' bet you do!” Cherri squealed.

 

Angel was enraptured, hanging on every word.

“And this little twink comes up to me, he's in the tightest fucking outfit I've ever seen,” Husk was offered a cigarette, so he took it. “And he's hanging all over me, saying how much he loved jazz. He asked if I had jungle fever!” Husk laughed noisily.

Angel looked horrified, but it seemed more internal than anything else.

“Baby, you good?” Husk asked, but Angel leaned over and kissed his face.

“Tell your story, sugar.”

Husk took a long drag on his cigarette, trying to focus again. “It was my first time with a guy, and he knew what he was doing! He fingered himself in front of me and sucked my cock like a champion.” He tapped the ashes into a tray Cherri offered. “When it got down to it, I think I fucked him half the night! I can't believe how long I could throw this kid around.”

Angel fanned himself, looking pleased and embarrassed.

“And I thought, well shit, how did I waste so much time on just women!?” Husk found his hand rubbing up the inside of Angel’s thigh, so he squeezed. “Men are so fucking hot!”

“Yea, that's SO true!” Cherri took a shot.

“Didja ever get his name?” Angel asked, gripping Husk's wrist.

“I can't remember, I was so fucked up! And I had another engagement in Indianapolis the next day, so I had to dip before he was even awake.”

“But you left a queen of hearts on the dresser with a ‘thanks for the lay,’ note on it,” Angel provided.

“Yeah, I–” Husk's ears perked. “Did I already tell this story?” He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray. 

“No!” Angel laughed nervously, holding his head. “No fuckin’ way, Husk!”

Husk stared at him in confusion, the drugs seeping into his brain. “Do you wanna dance, beautiful?”

 

Angel laughed harder, covering his face. He nodded dumbly and let Husk drag him onto the floor.

“Those two,” Cherri rolled her eye, grinning.

Husk was sure Angel was having fun, hearing him shout eagerly as they danced. He registered Cherri joining them again!

“I'm gonna go get us some fresh drinks!” Angel shouted. “Keep an eye on Husker!”

“We're fine!” Cherri yelled back, turning to grind on some massive wolf.

Husk was enjoying how the music made him sway…until he stepped forward onto concrete. He grabbed for the cane hanging on his arm, and it wasn't there. Lights flickered between green and yellow, the crowd disappearing and reappearing with each flash.

“Oh shit,” Husk stumbled back, grunting as he hit a mass.

“Watch it!” A nondescript voice shouted.

Husk stared straight ahead as he saw it. The music faded away, replaced with the sounds as it began to approach.

Zzt…Zzt…Zzt…

He could see it closer than ever. Its face zipped up and down as it walked, revealing a large red orb hidden in inky blackness. Husk turned and bolted, abandoning his cane on the dance floor as he left on all fours.

  

Angel Dust laughed and shimmied his way across the dance floor. He saw Cherri’s hair and made his way over. “Got you a cocktail, toots!” He looked around, frowning in confusion.

“Uh, Cherri?!”

 

“Yes, bitch?! Want me to pay you?!”

 

“No! Where’s Husk?!”

 

“Huh!?!” She stopped dancing to hold her ear towards him.

 

“Where is my Husband?!?!” Angel stepped back to find him, stumbling. “Oh, shit,” he bent down to grab his cane. Another demon grabbed his hips as he did, grinding into Angel’s ass. He turned and smashed his drink into his head, “do you fuckin’ mind?!"

 

“Jesus Fucking Christ!!” The demon shouted, holding his face as he sprayed blood over the spider.

Angel shoved him back and started searching at knee level, looking for a hint of Husk anywhere.

“Oh for fuck's sake, he's fine!” Cherri stepped over the writhing demon to chase after him. “You're worrying too much!”

“He hasn't done anything hard since he was alive over forty fuckin’ years ago, Cher!” Angel shoved through a group, seeing a flicker of red outside.

 

Husker fell back onto his ass, kicking into the floor as he tried to find his footing again. He grunted as he hit a wall, dizzy from how fast his heart was racing. He clutched his chest, sure he was going to have a heart attack like the one that killed him.

 

It leaned down, wrapping it's lanky fingers around Husk's ankles.

 

“There you are!” Angel said in relief. However, Husker looked worse for wear. He was having a full blown panic attack on the sidewalk, shoved against the wall of the club. “Way to go, Cherri,” he yelled at her before moving to kneel next to him. “Husker? Can ya hear me?”

Husk's ears twitched and he opened his mouth, only to scream as he was dragged by his leg into the road.

“Can he normally run on his back?!” Cherri was actually alarmed now.

“Uh, No!” Angel was tired of her attitude today! He grabbed for Husk’s hands and pulled him back–

Husk watched in utter terror as the Zippered man buried a hand into the tuft of his chest.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT

 

“JESUS FUCK!” Cherri leapt back as there was a fountain of blood erupting from Husk’s chest.

Angel stared. Time slowed down…it was becoming easier to trust his hands to do what they needed. He shoved at the empty space above Husk, finding they collided with mass.

“Ah, ah, Angel?” Husk stared at the red sky above them. “It's raining?” Blood rained on his face in fat droplets, warm and comforting.

“Cherri, come make yourself useful, Fuck!” Angel demanded, directing her to hold his chest closed.

“Did he just fucking unzip his own body?!” Cherri was too high for this!

“Just hold it!!” Angel gripped at his own fur, letting out a grunt as he yanked out a long string. He bit it off with his teeth.

“Angel! What the fuck is going on?!” Cherri was definitely too high. “What the fuck are you gonna do with Yarn?!”

Angel ignored her and pressed it against Husk's chest, feeling stupid, but trusting his gut. Like a sewing machine, the string worked itself into Husk’s skin in a stitch.

“Oh, Fuck!” Husk yelled, closing his eyes tight.

Cherri sat back, letting out a breath. “Angie. Seriously.”

Angel clutched Husk into his lap, staring at the empty space in the road. For a brief moment, he'd seen it. “Fuckin' hell, Cherri.”

Cherri took a moment, pushing her bangs out of her face with a bloody hand. “...Sorry, Ang. I fucked up.”

Angel leaned down, pressing his face between Husk’s ears.

“Is it gone?” Husk asked, finally daring to look up again. “Did the rain stop?”

Angel breathed out shakily. “We're goin’ home.”

“Let me…let me call you a cab,” Cherri said. “It's the least I can do.”

“I fuckin’ got it,” Angel said sourly, pulling out his phone.

[homestuck--edits]

hii hii ok can ii get uhhhhh thii2 panel

wiith the2e 2priite2

dave beiing feferii

egbert beiing 2ollux

and karkat beiing gamzee

ok thankyou yahoo

-Mod Becsprite

[dustykneed]

not a SINGLE day goes by where i don't think about that post with the photo of andrew's death grip on alex's waist. you know the one

(i have, regrettably, once again, lost the damn post. if anyone has any clue as to its whereabouts i would be much obliged if you could drop the link lol. but at the very least i had the presence of mind to download the photo so here yall go xDD:

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some (late) holiday photos of the boye~!

[miodiodavinci]

the burnout is real lads . . . . .

[deletingmyself]

[retrogradedreaming]

God how do some people write so many fics. I’m happy for you, I’m in awe, I used to be you, and now I can’t make my single brain cell string a sentence together

[clochanamarc]

i need to vent in the tags abt the housemate, and i need to find a new word for this person bc "mate" is much too friendly rn.

[studyblrattempt]

Today's goals are like. Don't cry at the library. Don't throw up your double coffee. Don't fall asleep at 1pm.

[abstractlesbian]

I think the routine my new job is giving me has been really good for my mental health but it's funnier to say Ive been too tired to be mentally ill

[pepprs]

what is my family going to do about the dishes when i move out. like this is insane.

[apatheticlexicographer]

MOTHERFUCK i did not realize how much those antidepressants made me feel physically psychologically and dare i say spiritually like a peat mummy

literally 2 days off them and i've experienced more joy, lucidity, motivation and general good vibes than i did in the whole 2 months i was on them 😭😭