#and across the kitchen before dad found it and carried it back outside

[chrismerle]

more bugs get into the new house than the old one, but they're more bearable than when bugs got into the old house

in the current house, there are, like, multiple bugs a day, but they're rollipollis, tiny millipedes, those little translucent dancing spiders, tiny grass spiders, moths, and regular ol' flies. they're so low key that even i, the most insectophobic and arachnophobic person in the house, can basically just ignore them

in the old house, bugs getting in was less common, but they tended to be shit like wolf spiders that would span my palm, house centipedes longer than my fingers, cicadas a couple times, and FUCKING STINK BUGS. there was no ignoring any of them

[literatecowboy]

Gasolina y Adrenalina

The 141 break into your house. Whoops! A Gaz x F!Reader fic Warnings: violence, guns, human traffickers, eventual smut, home invasion, fast as fuck cars, dead parents, angst, misunderstanding to lovers

1. A Little Less Boy Next Door, A Little More Home Invader

“...okay, I have an address for you.” Laswell’s voice crackled through Price’s comms. He sat forward in the driver’s seat of the stolen sedan, making Ghost glance at him from the passenger’s seat. 

“Direct me,” he said, one hand leaving the wheel as he passed Ghost the small, handheld GPS. As Laswell recited coordinates, Gaz sat forward in the backseat. 

“What should we expect to walk into?” he asked, concern in his voice as he glanced over at Soap, who was bleeding and half-conscious in the seat beside him. 

“Old mentor of mine from the CIA. He’s been retired for a while but is always willing to lend a hand. I tried calling ahead, but there was no answer. I have on good authority there’s a key hidden at the base of the birdbath in the front yard.” Laswell said. 

“Captain Walker? I haven’t seen him since he walked without a cane and his daughter was little. It’ll be nice to see him again, despite the circumstances.” Price said.

The GPS settled on a route, and Price pushed down harder on the gas pedal as they hurdled across the night. 

—

You couldn’t sleep. 

As shuffled through the living room on your way back from the kitchen to get a glass of water, a glint of light caught your eye. Your heart broke all over again as you reached on top of the fireplace and gathered the simple urn containing your father’s ashes in trembling hands. 

You’d picked him up earlier that day. At least now he’d be able to be beside your mother once more. 

You put his urn back into its place, scooting it closer to your mother’s. Being alone in the world was suffocating. A car wreck had snuffed him from existence just two weeks ago and you could still hardly stomach your new reality. 

In less than a month your life had collapsed. Your fiancee was the first to leave, along with most of your former friends. You’d lost your job, your apartment. And after moving back in with your father, you’d lost him too. 

You padded back to your room, the great weight that you carried seeming to become even heavier. As you slipped into bed once more, you shut your eyes and tried to shut out the world. 

A noise pierced the darkness. Your eyes cracked open as two car doors slammed outside. The sound of male voices, indistinct and far away, drifted through your open window. 

You sat up and swung your legs over the bed, foregoing your slippers this time. If the cops found your dead body stuffed into your dad’s old novelty fish slippers, you’d be embarrassed. Crossing the room in an instant, you flung open your closet. 

You had a shotgun loaded and were halfway down the stairs in the blink of an eye. Even though he was gone, you were still your father’s daughter. 

You tensed as the sound of a key slotting into a lock echoed from the front door. There was a twist, then a click, and the door swung open. Coyotes began to yap and yowl in the distance. They were chasing prey. 

Boots clomped across your threshold and your breath caught in your throat. This had never actually happened before. You made it to the bottom of the stairs, silent as a kangaroo rat, and took a deep, shaky breath. The boots kept clomping toward you. You rounded the corner and aimed the shotgun at the head of the boots’ owner. 

“One more step and I’ll-”

He grabbed the gun, forcing the muzzle up toward the ceiling and slammed you back into the wall, knocking your head into a picture frame and sending it to the ground where it shattered. You wailed in pain, the fight leaving your body as you tried to slide free from his grasp, letting go of your shotgun. Your assailant tossed it aside and pinned you to the wall by your wrists. 

“Who are you?” he yelled as you shied away from him, not daring to look him in the face. 

“Just take what you want and leave!” you wailed, tears falling from your eyes as you did your best to squirm away from him. 

“Where’s Captain Walker?” he shouted. 

“Dead!” you screamed, your vision blurring as your knees gave out. The man holding you to the wall let go of you and you collapsed to the ground, sobbing into your hands. 

“Gaz, what’s going on?” a voice echoed through your entryway. Another man joined the one who’d pinned you. You shied away as he knelt beside you. 

“Came at me with a shotgun. Says Captain Walker is dead. Don’t know what to make of her,” Gaz said, picking up the shotgun he’d tossed aside before clearing the chambers. 

“It’s alright, love. Not going to hurt you,” the other man said. He offered a hand but you didn’t take it, wiping the tears from your eyes to take them in. As the second man got a good look at your face, recognition flashed across his features. 

“I’ll be damned. You’re Walker’s daughter, aren’t you?” he asked. You nodded stiffly, your eyes snapping to the doorway as a large man came in, a second man in his arms. 

“I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. We were expecting your father. Has he…passed?” the man asked, drawing your attention back to him. You heard the door shut and lock in the entryway. 

“Two weeks ago,” you said, your voice breaking as tears rushed into your eyes again. “Who are you? What do you want with my dad? Why did you break into my house?” you asked, sniffling as indignation began to seep into your voice. 

“I’m an old friend of your father’s. He offered this place as a refuge should any of his friends ever need it. I have a man hurt and we need a place to lie low for a little while.” he said. You stood shakily, looking around your living room at the chaos. 

“The damage is…done. But I want proof. Who are you?” you asked. 

“John Price of the SAS. I can put you in contact with a former subordinate of your father’s to confirm everything. Do you know Kate Laswell?” Price asked as he stood with you. 

“Laswell. I…never called her,” you breathed. Price’s brow furrowed. “After he passed.” you explained. He nodded. 

“I’ll take care of that. Right now, rest. You’ve had an eventful night,” Price said, turning to Gaz. “Can you help get her settled?” he asked. You flinched as your gaze met Gaz’s. He nodded, and as Price stepped away to help tend to his wounded, he approached. 

“I’m sorry, love. You gave me quite the fright there,” he said with a small smile, offering his hand. You took it reluctantly. 

“You scared me too,” you said, unable to meet his eyes as he lead you into the kitchen. 

“I am sorry. Don’t quite know what to say, if I’m honest. I’ve never mucked up a first impression on a woman quite so badly,” he said, pulling a chair at the kitchen table out for you. The lights in the house had been turned on and you watched as he snagged a few bags of frozen peas from your freezer. 

“It’s not the worst first impression I’ve ever had of a man,” you offered after a minute to break the silence. 

“There’s a story there,” Gaz said as he settled the peas onto your bruising wrists. 

“My financ-- ex fiance and I met when he collapsed on my desk at work and threw up on my brand new shoes,” you said, unable to stop the giggle that slipped from your lips. Gaz laughed, returning to you with a glass of water. 

“Christ, that’s horrendous. Was he drunk?” he asked, pushing the glass into your hands. 

“Nope. I used to work at a pharmacy in a hospital. He came to pick up medication after being discharged, but apparently wasn’t ready to go yet,” you said, picking up the glass in a shaking hand. As soon as you’d downed it, you rose. 

“I’m going to get some rest,” you said, turning to go. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Gaz asked, surging forward to be at your side. You flinched, doing your best to keep the peas balanced on your wrists. 

“No. Thank you,” you said, offering a wry smile as you headed for the stairs. 

As soon as you were out of sight, Gaz sighed. There was a weak chuckle from the living room and he caught Soap’s eye. 

“Ye think she’s bonnie, don’t ye?” he teased weakly. Gaz felt blood rush to his face and his ears felt hot. 

“You’re on pain meds, mate. Noticing things that aren’t there,” he said. He fiddled with the shells he’d taken from your shotgun absentmindedly, sitting down on the couch that was the furthest away from Soap. 

“It’s true, though, she is bonnie. Almost as bonnie as you, LT,” Soap slurred, his hand coming to rest on Ghost’s thigh. Ghost merely stood, glaring down at the Scot before going to sit beside Gaz. 

“Tough crowd,” whined Soap.

—

You woke the next morning to light streaming in through your windows and knocking at your bedroom door. Sleep had hit you hard the night before and you sat up, rubbing your eyes and struggling to adjust to consciousness. Your wrists were sore and the thawed bags of peas had dropped to the ground. The knocking came again

You slid your feet into the fish slippers and padded to the door, opening it and gazing at your visitor. Gaz stood before you, a plate in his hands. 

“Did I wake you?” he asked, stepping back as he took in your sleepy form. You nodded. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. You took him in. He was still wearing the clothes he’d been in the night before, sans gear. He was covered in grime and dried sweat and smelled a little. 

“You didn’t shower?” you asked. Gaz paused, taken aback. 

“Suppose we didn’t think to,” he said. You stood in silence for a moment, awkwardness filling the hallway. 

“I made breakfast. I thought you might want some,” he said after a beat, seeming to remember why he’d woken you in the first place. He held out the plate as if in offering to a god - almost timidly, with great reverence. You smiled and took it, snagging a slice of apple from the edge. 

“Of course I want some. Who in their right mind turns down breakfast, even if it is from an intruder?” you asked. Gaz laughed a little and followed you as you left your room, headed for the kitchen table.

The rest of the men seemed to have already eaten, and you noticed that like Gaz, none of them had showered. You cringed internally at the thought of the sweat and grime permeating your furniture. 

“Good morning,” Captain Price greeted as you sat down at the kitchen table, tucking into your food. 

“Morning. You know, if you guys are going to be here, you might as well make use of the entire place,” you said. “I’ve got guest bedrooms - there’s no need to sleep on the couch and the floor. There’s four bathrooms in this house. Go get cleaned up, you can throw your clothes in the wash. My dad’s closet is yours to raid,” you said. 

“Think she’s sayin’ you stink, Ghost,” the wounded man with the Scottish accent wheezed from the corner. You felt heat rush to your face. 

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…if you were friends of my dad, then I want to treat you how he would’ve - with open arms,” you said, embarrassed. 

“You dad was a good man, love. I’m sorry to have barged in on you like this. Would’ve left right away had we any other choice,” Price admitted. 

“Honestly? If you’re going to keep waking me up to freshly made pancakes, you can stay as long as you want.” 

—

You dressed after breakfast and brought out some of your dad’s old clothes. The boys had showered one at a time, and much to your amusement, Captain Price seemed to take a liking to your dad’s Hawiian shirt collection. Paired with his boonie hat and a pair of your dad’s cargo shorts, the resemblance was striking and made your eyes misty for a moment. 

When the big man in the skull balaclava left to take his shower, the Scot beckoned you over conspiratorially. You sat beside him curiously, leaning in to hear him as he spoke in a low voice. 

“What do ye think of Gaz, lass?” he asked, a pain medication induced twinkle in his eye. You laughed nervously. 

“He’s…kind of scary, like the rest of you,” you admitted. There was no denying the aura of danger that each of the men in your house radiated. You imagined your father was once the same, but you’d never seen that side of him. You’d never been exposed to his job like this. 

“Between ye and me, he thinks yer bonnie. Don’t tell him I said tha,” the Scot slurred. 

“I don’t know what that means,” you admitted with a laugh. Noticing his bandages had become a little grimy, you stood to fetch your first aid kit. When you returned to him and started removing his old bandages, he wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

“Don’t let Kyle see ye touchin’ me or he’ll be jealous,” he teased. You rolled your eyes. 

“What’s your name?” you asked curiously, focusing on cleaning his wounds and redoing the bandages. 

“Johnny to ye, lass. The big fucker in the shower without me is Ghost,” he pouted. 

“You can clean up if you want to. I’m sure your boyfriend wouldn’t mind helping you,” you said. Johnny’s eyes shot open from where they were half lidded. 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” he cried, startling you. He glanced around, eyes searching the room frantically before they settled back on you. “How did ye know?” he hissed. You closed the first aid kit and shrugged. 

“Just…guessed, I suppose. But don’t worry, my lips are sealed,” you promised. 

You left Soap to his own devices and he fell asleep rather quickly. You went outside to work in your dad’s garden after lunch, wanting some space from the home invaders and some peace and quiet. The hours slipped by, and you reluctantly came inside when the sun slipped below the horizon. 

The fridge, which had been stocked with enough groceries for one, was mostly emptied. You sighed and started making a list of what you’d need to get at the store the next day. The groceries for one had become groceries for five. 

---

[kodaloveschris]

A Fun Day with Daddy

It was a sunny Saturday morning, and the Sturniolo household buzzed with the sound of laughter and little feet pattering on the hardwood floors. Matt Sturniolo, still in his pajama pants and a t-shirt, stood in the kitchen, pouring cereal into two colorful bowls. His twin daughters, Emma and Lily, giggled as they tried to climb onto their chairs at the kitchen table.

"Need a hand, munchkins?" Matt asked, a smile spreading across his face.

"Daddy, I can do it!" Emma insisted, her determined little face scrunching up in concentration.

Lily, on the other hand, reached out for Matt, her big eyes pleading for help. Matt scooped her up and set her gently in her chair, ruffling her hair.

"Thanks, Daddy!" Lily said, beaming up at him.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Matt replied, placing the bowls in front of his girls. "Now, eat up. We have a big day ahead of us."

The girls dug into their cereal with gusto, chatting excitedly about the day's plans. Matt listened with one ear, sipping his coffee and glancing out the window at the beautiful day unfolding outside.

After breakfast, Matt helped the girls get dressed, their room a flurry of dresses, bows, and shoes. Once everyone was ready, they piled into the family car, Matt making sure everyone was safely buckled in before heading to the park.

The park was bustling with families enjoying the warm weather. Matt held his daughters' hands as they walked towards the playground, the girls skipping with excitement.

"Daddy, can we go on the swings?" Emma asked, pointing eagerly.

"Of course," Matt said, leading them to the swings. He lifted Emma onto one and gave her a gentle push, her delighted laughter filling the air. Lily waited patiently for her turn, holding onto Matt's leg.

When it was Lily's turn, Matt pushed her gently too, watching both girls with a content smile. Their happiness was his happiness, and there was nothing he loved more than spending time with them.

After the swings, they explored the rest of the playground, Matt always nearby to catch them if they stumbled or needed help. He joined in their games of tag, pretending to be a monster chasing them, his playful roars making them scream with laughter.

When it was time for lunch, they found a shady spot under a big oak tree and spread out a picnic blanket. Matt unpacked the lunch he had prepared: sandwiches, fruit, and juice boxes.

"Yum, Daddy, these are my favorite!" Emma said, biting into her sandwich.

"Mine too," Lily added, her cheeks full of food.

"I'm glad you like them," Matt said, leaning back on his elbows and watching his daughters with a smile.

After lunch, they lay on the blanket, looking up at the sky and pointing out different shapes in the clouds. Matt listened to his daughters' imaginative descriptions, marveling at their creativity.

"Daddy, that cloud looks like a unicorn!" Lily exclaimed.

"And that one looks like a dragon!" Emma added.

Matt laughed, nodding in agreement. "You both have great imaginations."

As the afternoon wore on, the girls started to get sleepy. Matt gathered up their things and carried Lily, who had fallen asleep in his arms, back to the car. Emma walked beside him, holding onto his free hand.

When they got home, Matt tucked the girls into their beds for a nap, kissing their foreheads and whispering, "Sweet dreams, my loves."

He tiptoed out of the room and headed to the living room, where he finally took a moment to relax. He smiled to himself, thinking about the perfect day they had shared. Being a single dad wasn't always easy, but it was the most rewarding job he could imagine. The girls' mother had left shortly after they were born, realizing she wasn’t ready for motherhood. It had been a challenging adjustment, but Matt had stepped up without hesitation, determined to give his daughters all the love and support they needed.

As he sat on the couch, the soft sounds of his daughters' breathing drifting down the hallway, Matt felt a deep sense of contentment. He was exactly where he wanted to be, surrounded by love and laughter, cherishing every moment with his little girls.

[strangernstranger]

I’m On Fire

Eddie x Fem Reader (request)

Summary: It was a harmless crush what you and Eddie shared yet so damning you were forced to keep him at a distance. It would be hell for you if your father found out but you just couldn’t stay away…

(Contains descriptions of abuse, alcoholism and violent behavior.)

Part 2

——— Back pressed to the door, you counted the footsteps just outside. Three from your bedroom, ten towards the living room, twenty to the kitchen. The footfalls grew quieter with each number. Like counting claps of thunder after a lightening strike, you were measuring the distance of a passing storm. It seemed you were finally in the clear. The breath hitched in your throat released in a quiver as the tension in your posture softened.

You blinked past the tears as you approached your vanity. You assessed the damage under the warm lamplight. Red indentations from your father’s grasp colored the soft skin of your upper arm. You could still feel the pressure of his fingertips pressing into the muscle as he held you in place. Not that it was necessary. You knew better than to walk away when he talked to you. Still, he grabbed you harshly during your berating to remind you of your place. To remind you that you were ungrateful and an overall disappointment as a daughter. You lifted your arm to further examine the sensitive skin. It was going to bruise. The remaining blemishes from the last altercation with your father still hadn’t healed. Fading from violet and gray to a sickly shade of yellow, they were gradually getting better but more would take their place. At least your father had the decency to leave marks in places easy to conceal. Not that it was for your benefit. Instead it was meant to save his own ass. Ever since a parent teacher conference was called to discuss a bruise on your cheek you refused to explain, the injuries became more elusive though just as frequent.

You’d gotten good at hiding the hell that was your home life. Adept at burying the hurt so that you could carry out daily tasks like going to school without question. The next morning, you slid your hair over the collar of your flannel over shirt and primped in the mirror one last time before heading for the door.

“Hey.” A unwelcomed voice grated. Your hand froze on the door knob. You were seconds away from a clean escape.

“Yea, Dad?” He was leaning against the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal in hand, watching you past the door frame as if he were waiting for you. His hair was disheveled. Eyes still bloodshot from a previous night of drinking. It was rare that he was sober anymore. You weren’t a psychiatrist but you would assume it had something to do with the fact he hated himself just as much as the lack-luster life he had earned for the two of you.

“I’m working late tonight. Now, I want you home right after school.” He pointed a finger as he spoke. Not even 8AM and he was already coming across as confrontational. “You come straight home and clean some of this shit up. Hear me?” You would’ve rolled your eyes if you didn’t think he’d smack the hell out of you for it. Since your mother left, your father had appointed you to take over her thankless chore list, never lifting a finger of his own.

“I will, promise.” Other families typically say ‘I love you’ before leaving, but you didn’t see the point anymore. It was an empty phrase that hadn’t held a meaning since you were a child.

———

The misty spring air drove away the remaining tiredness resting behind your eyes. It was a cool caress against your cheeks as you pedaled your bike down the still waking streets of Hawkins to the high school. You liked school okay enough. Your grades were consistently passing and for seven hours a day, you were out of your father’s reach. Above all else, there was Eddie. He was a loud mouthed senior with an intimidating aura and reputation to match. A lot of your classmates avoided him. You did too. That is until you were partnered together for an assignment in Mrs. Click’s class. Turns out the second degree senior was actually pretty smart. Just lazy, dubbing himself as more of an ‘idea-man.’ He was unmotivated. You could understand that. Your motivation was more of a looming threat scented with bourbon and haggard by poor life choices and coping mechanisms.

Eddie didn’t know about your dad. At first he thought your concern about the assignment was silly. Your grades were good enough. No sense in being an overachiever he thought. It wasn’t until he caught you after class one day after everyone else had left. You were crying. Your arms circled your face as you sobbed into the textbook lying on your desk. He didn’t know you were that stressed about it. He didn’t know that a failing grade would likely result in injury in your case. It may have been an invasion of privacy but he pulled up a chair beside you. You startled at the sound of the metal legs scooting across the concrete floor.

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What do you want, Eddie?” You wiped the tears away with the back of your sweater sleeve. Your previous interactions were short and often quarrelsome, always pertaining to the assignment.

“First off, I want you to take a breath.” You did so in vain. Not because he told you to but because you hated anyone to see you cry. “May I?” Eddie’s ring clad hand slid the textbook off your desk and into his lap. He shuffled through the notes stuffed between the pages that you had so meticulous taken. Ink bled on portions of the paper soggy from tears. He’d never seen someone so hung up over a grade before. He felt guilty that he didn’t share even half of your concern. “Take the night off. I can finish this.” Your eyes snapped to him, bloodshot and skeptical.

“You are gonna finish it?” Your tone was unintentionally mocking. He had barely put in an effort since your were unfairly partnered at random.

“Yea?” Eddie answered cooly. “I’ll throw the presentation together so you can take a break. I can just reference your notes. Seems like you’ve covered every possible base.” Nonchalantly, he flipped the lined, loose-leaf paper over, further noting the nuances of your handwriting. Bubbly cursive with little hearts that accented the i’s. Cute. The idea of Eddie taking over the assignment was worrisome to say the least, but you could use a break. Between the stress of school and your father’s constant demands, you were overwhelmed.

“But what about-”

“Y/N…I’ve got this, okay? I’m sorry I haven’t been doing my part. Let me make it up to you. If you don’t think I’m capable of finishing it on my own, I could just come to your place. We’ll work on it togeth-”

“No!” You were quick to shutdown the idea. No one was allowed to come to your house. Your own personal rule. Logically thinking, your father wouldn’t hit you in front of another person, but he had surprised you before. Inebriation always ran the risk of trumping logic. Eddie winced at how quick you were to decline his self imposed invention. It was strictly out of kindness but maybe a bit too forward? “It’s a school night…I’m not allowed to have friends over on school nights.” The excuse was weaved out of thin air. You had years of practice in improvising white lies to hide your families broken dynamics.

“Okay…maybe I can get your number then? Y’know to talk about the assignment?” Eddie closed the book in his lap, resting his forearms on the hard cover. A trailing tattoo of bats peak-a-booed under his pushed up sleeves. You weighed the pros and cons for a moment. Your father would kill you if he answered the phone to hear a man’s voice asking for you. We’re you willing to risk it?

“…Alright. But no calling after 6:30 and if my dad answers, hang up immediately.” You laid out your conditions and watched Eddie smile in confusion.

“Uhh, yea… I guess I can do that.” The smile stretch to brilliancy. He stood triumphantly, nudging your shoulder just before leaving. “Dry it up, L/N.” You followed his stride out the door with your eyes, savoring the lingering scent of his cologne. No way you were crushing on the outcasted king of Hawkins High.

———

You totally were. With Eddie’s help, the assignment was given on time. Earning you both a respectable B+ Even after your two week sentence of partnership ended, he still called you (within the boundaries you set.) Still talked to you in the halls and during lunch. You suffered through every class and mind numbing lecture with one thing on your mind. Eddie. Baring witness to his hyperactive, exaggerated mannerisms were the best part of your day. Just hearing his distinctive voice greet you with a “hey sweetheart”over the crackle of the landline. It was enough to give you butterflies. Still, as much as it hurt you to do so, you kept him at arms length. You didn’t want him caught in your mess and you certainly didn’t want to provide anymore fuel for your father’s misplaced outrage. That meant turning Eddie down anytime he’d ask for a date. Rushing off the phone the second your father’s truck roared into the driveway, cutting Eddie off in the midst of flirtatious conversations. It didn’t go unnoticed. He thought you to be playing hard to get. You gave every indication you were into him. You didn’t shy away when he’d brush your hair behind your ear. When he’d grab your hand under the cafeteria table, you’d lace your fingers with his. Eddie always made little jokes over the phone about how he was gonna climb through your window just to see you. You’d never take the bait, but you’d always bite your lip as your twirled the cord between your fingers. Eddie swears he could hear it in your laugh. It was a spark that threatened to burn him from the inside out. He’d lay in bed at night thinking of you, hoping you were doing the same.

But your life outside of school was a mystery. You never talked about what happened after you biked away from the parking lot. You never saw friends on the weekend. It was puzzling. You were such a sweet girl, but Eddie felt like he still didn’t truly know you. Only parts of you. You were shrouded in secrecy. He used to ask questions. Your answers were short and always followed by a swift change in subject. The only information he could gather was that your mom was no longer in the picture and your father kept high expectations of you. Nothing out of the norm. But you were peculiar in the way you’d shift in place and hide your eyes anytime Eddie attempted to talk about him.

———

The cool, overcast day gave way to torrential rain, peppering the cracked pavement and sidewalks as the last bell of the day rang out. Teens scramble across the parking lot, text books and bags covering their heads in lieu of umbrellas. You watched as they boarded buses and settled into nice cars, gifted by their parents. You on the other hand were preparing for the freezing bike ride back home. Already feeling defeated, you kicked up the bike’s stand just as the stench of exhaust and rumble of thrash metal crept across the parking lot.

“Please don’t tell me you’re riding home in this?” Cigarette smoke wafted from the open window of Eddie’s van. He held in a laugh. You were pitifully hilarious. The hood of your beloved sweatshirt that lived in your locker was pulled tightly to your head and tied below your chin. You were rendered a moon faced blob of wet and darkened fabric.

“Beats walking.” You mounted your bike while shrugging the weight of your backpack up your shoulders.

“Nonono, come on. I’ll give you a ride.” What kind of man would he be if he just let you go off on your own in the middle of a downpour? “The heat works now.” Eddie patted the dash in praise. He’d been working on that for weeks. “I know you’re cold.” You were. Freezing in fact. “Just let me take you home.” He pleaded. He really didn’t want to resort to begging but was prepared to. You chewed your bottom lip in consideration. What was it about him that made you so careless with your circumstance? Was it his eyes? The way his frizzy curls framed his perfect jawline? Maybe it was his gentlemanly gestures juxtaposed to his “fuck you” attitude. Christ. It was all of it. Your dad did say he was working late…What could it hurt?

“What about my bike?” You shouted over the loud spatter of raindrops.

“Allow me.” The driver’s side door of the van opened with a groan. His black boots tread through the puddle you were standing in so that he could take your bike. With minimal effort he tossed it into the back of his van. Wiping his palms on the front of his jeans, he turned to you proudly. “Hop in, sweetheart.”

———

Eddie shook his curls like a wet dog, cursing the cold rain between little shivers.

“And you wanted to bike home in this.” He tsked, side eyeing you playfully.

“I didn’t want to! I had to!” You laughed as you ringed water from your hair.

“No, see. That’s a lie. And you know it’s a lie. I offer to drive you home all the time.” That was true. You’d never take him up on the offer though. It was too risky.

“Wouldn’t it be a pain in the ass to drive out of your way all the time just to take me home?” Your rubber toed shoes squeaked together in the floorboard as you adjusted yourself closer to the heat vents to thaw your fridges fingers.

“You act like we live hours apart. Curly isn’t far from the trailer park.” He reminded you. You knew that but you were running out of excuses.

“I just…don’t think my dad would like it.” There it was again. The brief mention of him had you grabbing at your arms, making yourself as small as possible on instinct. Eddie watched you slouch in the passenger seat. Your smiling eyes now trained to the rain droplets racing down your window. It was happening again.

“….I don’t think I like your dad.” Eddie casually determined. That’s makes to of us you thought but didn’t dare to say.

“You’ve never even met him.” You hoped the conversation would be short but something told you it was only the start.

“I don’t have to. He sounds like a dick. Like, he just wants to keep you in your room, away from everybody else. That’s not fair to you.” The atmosphere grew tense as the van splashed through puddles down the two lane. You got quiet. Eddie had seen this before. It’s like you’d shutdown anytime he tried to talk about him. A clear sign he should stop but he knew there was something you weren’t telling him. He wanted to press on but he finally had you all to himself outside the crowded halls of your school. He wasn’t about to let your time together go to waste. “It’s damn sure not fair to me.” He pouted in an attempt to get you talking again.

“And why is that?” You turned to him with the corner of your mouth ticked up into a smirk.

“Because I can’t take you out! We can’t go for milkshakes or any of that cutesy shit!” Eddie huffed, earning the smallest giggle from you. “No steamy make out session at skull rock either.” He teased, wagging his brows as he reach across the center console to squeeze your knee. He was courteous but never subtle. Playfully, you slapped at his arm while a blush warmed your still frozen cheeks. You wanted those things. You wanted the whirlwind romance you’d read about in books. You wanted Eddie. But instead you were lead actress in your own personal Lifetime drama or after school special about the dangers of alcoholism. We don’t always get what we want. You flipped his palm over and locked your fingers in his. It can’t hurt to pretend though.

You were so entranced by the way Eddie’s cigarette danced between his plush lips that you didn’t even realize you were almost home. He was rambling on about the bluesy riff in Sabbath’s ‘Fairies Wear Boots’ which played over the tape deck. With the crash of a cymbal your heart dropped to your stomach. In the driveway sat a rust eaten and weathered Chevy pickup.

“Fuck FUCK!” You immediately began scrambling to unfasten your seatbelt and grab your bag.

“WHAT?” Eddie shouted in confusion.

“My dad is home. He said he was working late tonight!” You were visibly panicked. Eddie rushed to mute the music but it was too late. The rumbling bass line had already sold you out on your arrival. Eddie peered out the windshield past the wiper blades to see a gruff man swing past the screen door of the modest home. He watched as he slumped over the dinghy, white and algae stained porch railings. A bottle hung loosely between his fingers. Eddie watched you through the rear view. You were struggling to pull your bike out of the back.

“Let me help-”

“NO. Stay in the van.” You snapped. Shaky hands gripped the metal frame, finally pulling it free. Eddie’s eyes flicked back to your father who was suddenly staring daggers at him. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest watching you push your bike up the driveway, not bothering to spare him a goodbye. Against his better judgment, he threw the van in reverse and left. He took one last look at you through his side mirror. Your head dipped low as you followed the man into the house.

———

You prepped dinner on the stove. The skillet’s simmer was the only thing staving off the earth shattering silence. The tension that could be cut with a knife. Your father was sat at the table bouncing his leg as he watched you. You could feel his eyes even with your back turned. Was he intentionally drawing this out? Reveling in your stiff shoulders and dry gulps as you plated his food? This wasn’t the kind of thing he was going to let slide. You knew that and found no sense in delaying the inevitable. If he wasn’t going to speak up, you would.

“I thought you were working late.” You sat a plate in front of your father before taking your place at the table. You hoped the gesture of a hot meal would lessen your punishment. “What happened?” It was likely another altercation with a coworker. He had verbally been reprimanded about that kind of thing in the past. While his violent tendencies lived beyond the closed doors of your home, he carried the same anger with him everywhere he went. Quietly seething at the fact he had lost control of his life. Now a divorcee with a dead end job, living paycheck to paycheck. He turned his focus to you. You, he could control.

“Who was he?” Your question went completely ignored. He stabbed at his pork chop, watching your face intensely. Searching for any indication of a lie.

“Just a friend. It was raining so he offered me a ride.” You kept your eyes on your food. Anxiety starved your appetite so instead you pushed your peas around the dish.

“And what did you offer him?” Your father smiled at you in a mocking manner.

“I don’t…I don’t get what you mean?”

“Don’t act stupid, Y/N. Men have all got one thing on their minds. I know that boy didn’t waste his gas bringing you home…for nothing in return.” He wanted to get under your skin. He wanted you to bite back. He wanted an excuse to pin his shitty day on you.

“Do you seriously think I’d sacrifice my self respect for a ride home?” You were visibly angered by the notion. You weren’t sure what you found more offensive. The fact he thought you’d trade sex for a simple favor or that Eddie would expect that of you? He took a harmless situation and twisted it into something perverse.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone!” He stabbed the air in your direction with his fork. “I’d like to think I raised you better than that but I really shouldn’t be surprised. Figures you’d turn out to be a whore like your mother.” You could feel your hands shake under the table. He knew that would get you.

“Don’t put that shit on me!” You snapped. “If you would’ve treated mom like a person instead of your servant she’d still be here!” You missed your mom. You wished she would’ve taken you with her. Instead she found someone to take your father’s place and skipped town. You didn’t blame her, but it still hurt. It was probably just easier for her to make an escape and start over without a teenaged daughter weighing her down. “Im not hungry.” You pushed your plate back on the table and made the attempt to head back to you room. The fact he was sitting down made you think, maybe you could make it to the door before he caught up with you. You moved quickly but were stunned in place by the shatter of a glass on the floor.

“Don’t fuckin’ WALK AWAY FROM ME.” Your father barked. In the heat of fight or flight situations, you froze. He followed you into the hallway, face burning hot with misdirected rage. You screwed your eyes shut the second his hand tangled into your hair. “I CAUGHT YOU WHISPERING ON THE PHONE WITH THAT BOY THE OTHER DAY!” His shouting shook you to the core. Your heart raced remembering how your father made it home fifteen minutes early last week and managed to make it into the house without you noticing. Your mind fought to recall your conversation with Eddie and hoped it wasn’t damning.

“I’m sorry, Dad!”

“Now, I want you to tell me…” He wiped the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand. “WHO IS HE?” He tugged your hair at the roots causing you to wince in pain.

“HE’S JUST A FRIEND! Please let me go, PLEASE!” You hated how weak you sounded.

“I WANT HIS FUCKIN’ NAME!” With one sharp motion, the side of your face slammed into the wood paneling of the wall. You dropped to the floor instantaneously. Any other time you’d just accept your fate. Take the beating and allow the moment to pass but something in you screamed run. Unable to make it to your feet, you staggered a crawl towards the living room. Your father followed your every movement, squatting down to grab your hair once more.

“ANSWER ME GODDAMN IT!” Your trembling hands stretched to reach the cord of a nearby table lamp. The last digit of your middle finger managed to moved the wire enough that the light fell to the carpeted floor. Before you even had a chance to think of the repercussions, you grabbed the lamp and swung it at your father making direct contact. He stumbled backwards holding his nose. Trickles of blood began lining the spaces between his fingers. Now was your chance. You looked to the front door. A beacon of hope merely feet away. You pushed past the ache in your head and the fear in your stomach, finally making it to your feet.

“YOU FUCKIN’ BITCH!” Your father screamed through a cupped hand, attempting to grab you before you were out of reach. His fingers grazed the cloth of your T-shirt before you slipped away from his grasp. He tried to chase after you, but his vision was obstructed by the blow to his face. You ran out the door and off the porch, frantically mounting your bike. Your father followed, stopping at the porch steps. The rain beat hard as he screamed.

“GET BACK IN THE GODDAMN HOUSE.” But you were already gone, petaling rapidly down your street. Not daring to look back. The reflections of streetlights on the wet asphalt illuminated the road to freedom. You weren’t sure of where you were going but then you remembered. Curly isn’t far from the trailer park.

———

Smoke circled overhead in Eddie’s room. An ash tray rested on his naked chest as he flipped through the pages of some macabre comic. A record spun on the turntable. The needle bringing the voice of Robert Plant to life. His zen was interrupted by a pounding at the trailer door. What he fuck? He pulled himself off the mattress and lifted the arm of the record player. He observed the silence beyond the rain, hearing the frantic knocks again. Who in the hell? He grabbed his leather jacket off the desk chair and made his way to the door, the sound pestering on.

“What?” He answered sharply but was immediately caught off guard. You stood on his door step, shivering and drenched to the bone. “Y/N, oh my God! Are you okay?” He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and guide you inside.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Your voice was strained. Broken. Your threw yourself into his chest, collapsing in the comfort and warmth of his skin, not considering how crazy you looked in that moment. You just needed to feel safe. Eddie rubbed your back as you cried. Soft shooshes cooed from his lips. Something was very wrong.

“What happened, Sweetheart?” He pulled away to face you. Eddie swept the wet strands of hair behind your ear, revealing your swollen face. A knot raised just above your temple, red and swollen skin trailing below and tracing down to your cheekbone. “Jesus Christ…Y/N.” You had never seen Eddie’s face so concerned. “Did- Did someone do this to you?” You couldn’t speak. You were fighting to regain your composure but you managed to nod a reply. Sadness swelled in Eddie’s chest. How could anyone find it in themself to hurt you like this? “Who did this!?” He gently cupped your face in his hands, tilting and lifting in search of any other marks. Your father’s face flashed in his memory. The look in his eyes as he dangled the bottle in his hands. The pieces began to fall together. Why you’d tense up anytime he was mentioned. Why you spoke in whispers on the phone. How did he miss all the signs? “He did this to you.” It wasn’t a question. It was an understanding. He locked his deep brown eyes on you. You nodded in his hands. Tears brimmed and threatened to spill over when he saw the way your lip trembled.

“I can’t go back there, Eddie.” Your chest heaved as you choked back another sob. He pressed your face into his chest, his hand cradling the side of your head. His skin burned hot while yours was ice. You melted together in the embrace.

“You don’t have to. We’ll figure something out.”

———

“These looked like they’d fit. I tossed them in the dryer so they’d be extra warm.” Eddie handed off a pair of pajama pants and a sweatshirt smelling of fresh dryer sheets. You smiled up at him through your lashes while you sat on the edge of the bathtub. The towel Eddie drape over you still rested on your shoulders. He was an excellent caretaker. You moved your makeshift ice pack/bag of frozen peas off your temple so you could shake out the clothes.

“I really appreciate this…all of it.” There was no way to properly thank him or express how sincere you truly were.

“Don’t do that.” He smiled.

“Do what?”

“Don’t thank me for being nice to you, it’s weird!” You chuckled a little at that. It was weird having someone care about you like this. You lifted your soggy tshirt over your head, separating it for the tank top that clung to your body. For the first time, Eddie could see what your father had done to you. Bruises on your shoulder and across your arms. All varying in size and color. Some fresh, some old. He dropped his breath.

“No sense in hiding them anymore I guess.” You shrugged off the initial embarrassment. You shouldn’t be the one who felt ashamed. Yet you did.

“Does it happen a lot?” Eddie sat down on the lid of the toilet seat and twisted his body towards you.

“Couple times a week.” You shrugged. “It’s getting worse. Since mom left…it’s like he looks for reasons to hurt me. I-I don’t know if he blames me for what happened or if he just takes it out on me because I’m the only one there…” You’d never talked to anyone about what you’ve been through. What you continue to go through. But with Eddie, you felt like you could be transparent. He absorbed every word, not daring to speak until you got it all off your chest. Your honesty cut him like a knife. It took him back to his days of being a confused child. Wondering why his dad would strike him. What he could’ve done to deserve it. Eddie wanted your father to pay for what he did to you but chose to keep his anger to himself. You didn’t need more talks of violence, even if it would be justified. You needed comfort and understanding. “He treated my mom like shit. She met this guy who made her feel like she was worth something, yknow? She packed up in the middle of the night. Left. No clue where.” You shook your head. “But after that…Dad wasn’t the same. He started drinking all the time. Picking fights with me for no reason…and it just kept getting worse.” Your eyes started to wet. “Now I’m here.”

“All the bullshit aside, I’m glad you’re here.” Eddie reached over to grab your hand. He let his thumb run circles along the back. His heart was heavy for you. He knew what you were going through and it was something who wouldn’t wish upon anyone.

———

You and Eddie sat up on the couch for a while watching reruns of some dated sitcom. Something about the sounds of canned-laughter with Eddie’s arm draped around you soothed your jangled nerves. Your eyes were grew heavy as you rested in the dim light of Eddie’s living room. You were utterly exhausted by everything that had transpired that day. Your head would droop and pop back up with fluttered blinks. The cycle repeated at least three times before Eddie spoke up.

“Just close your eyes, sweetheart. I know you’re tired.” His voice was soft and hushed.

“I don’t wanna leave you up though.” You rubbed your knuckle into your tired eyes to try and drive the sleepiness away.

“Don’t worry about me.” He laughed. “I’m practically nocturnal. Now, c’mon. Lay down.” Eddie swung his legs up on the couch and pulled you into him so that your back could rest against his stomach and head to his chest. He shuffled between so many emotions as you finally drifted off to sleep against him. Happy he could finally hold you. Saddened by your circumstances and what brought you to him. And ultimately guilty for enjoying every second of it.

The morning light cut through the blinds in blue ribbons across the walls of the quant, mobile home. Wayne had just finished up his shift at the plant. Tired and overworked, more than anything he wanted to stretch out on the couch and close his eyes. Eddie had thrown his uncle for a loop a time or two in the past but that didn’t prepare him for when he opened the front door to see his nephew all snuggled up with some girl.

“Eddie!” He boomed, sending a shockwave through the boy’s body. He sprang up to a sitting position, nearly toppling you over and into the floor.

“Hey-Hey, Wayne! Can we, uh-can we talk for a second?” Wayne was not amused in the slightest by his nephew’s sheepish behavior.

“Oh, we’re gonna have a talk alright.” He crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to look at you. His attention was focused solely on Eddie.

“I guess I should-….I have to go to the bathroom.” You made yourself scarce and pitter pattered to bathroom. You knew you shouldn’t but you left the door cracked so you could eaves drop on their conversation.

“Okay, Wayne…I know what it looks like.”

“It looks like your sneaking girls home!”

“I know, I know but it’s not like that!” Eddie huffed hoping the other man would understand. He dropped his voice so maybe you wouldn’t hear him. “She needs help, Wayne. Her dad abuses her. She showed up here crying last night because she didn’t know where else to go. What was I supposed to do, send her right back to him? He grabbed her by the hair and rammed her head into the wall, for Christ’s sake!” Eddie spoke in whispers so you couldn’t hear. “I just wanted her safe. Honest.” His eyes were pleading. Wayne ran a hand over his scratchy beard recalling how he felt when he first learned of Eddie being abused. He thought back to that scared little boy crying in the cab of his truck because his mommy and daddy were two pieces of shit who couldn’t figure out how to love their own flesh and blood. It was a sensitive subject for Wayne. He turned towards the bathroom feeling your eyes peak through the cracks of the door. You tried to shut it in a hurry but we’re already caught.

“Hey! C’mere a second.” It was a request but his stern voice made it feel an awful lot like a demand. You walked slowly back to the center of the living room where the two men stood, watching you. Wayne stepped in front of you, examining the fresh bruise along the side of your face. His heart screamed ‘I’m sorry this happened to you’ but his face remained neutral. “That’s a shiner alright.” He shook his head in disgust. You nervously looked the other way. You weren’t used to people remarking on your father’s doings. It was your own secret shame and not one you’d willingly share. “Still hurt?”

“Y-Yea. A little.” You wanted to sound brave and unphased but you sounded more like a child than anything.

“There’s Tylenol in the medicine cabinet.” Wayne huffed and began pacing the floor. “I’m sure you’ve noticed we’re a little limited on space here.” He gestured to his work clothes that hung on a rack in the corner of the room. You dropped your head sensing that you’d soon be sent away. Eddie waited with bated breath, praying his uncle wouldn’t make you go back. “But you’re welcome to stay here until we get this mess sorted out.”

[lolahasmoxie]

Thanksgiving (E.M.)

I posted this as a headcanon earlier, but it wasn't showing up in the tags, so let's try this again. I also expanded it because it could have been better.

WARNINGS: family, holidays, disgusting fluff, implied smut, mentions of sexy times (I AM A SLUT FOR DOMESTIC CASUAL INTIMACY)

The road to your Aunt's house was quiet as you rode shotgun while Eddie drove. He played Megadeath while you looked out the window, enjoying the Fall weather. The way the trees were at the end of changing colors. The leaves will be gone in just a couple more weeks, and winter will be here.

You glance over when you notice Eddie beating his hands against the steering wheel of his van. That doesn't bother you; it's how his brow is furrowed in complete concentration.

"Eds, you doing okay?"

"Of course I'm okay. I'm fine. You're fine. Everything is fine."

"I don't know why you're nervous," you interject. "You've met everyone already."

"You say that because you were never the town derelict," he says under his breath.

"Stop it. We will spend the morning with my people, go home, nap, and then have dinner with Wayne. It's going to be fine."

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, which seems to do the trick when you see the slight smile on his lips. It's about another ten minutes before you're parked in front of your Aunt Deb and Uncle Doug's home.

They come out to greet you both, hugging you both as your Aunt tells Eddie that he's all skin and bones. They help you bring in the food you have been asked to bring, and once inside, Uncle Doug pats Eddie on the shoulder.

"Picked up some new vinyl last week; why don't you come to check it out." Eddie smiles as he follows your Uncle while you trail your Aunt to the kitchen, where your Dad is already sitting at the table.

"How you doing, Monkey?" he asks, and you smile at your old childhood nickname. "Where's your man at?"

"Hey, Dad, Uncle Doug is showing him some records." You help put the food out on the counter when the door opens, and the voice of your Aunt Linda carries into the kitchen.

"I'm here! I'm not late, am I?"

"Just in time," Deb tells her sister. You get swept up in more hugs, and as Eddie and your Uncle come out of the den, your Aunt turns her attention to your metalhead.

"Oh my goodness, Eddie, look at you!" she says before cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a tight hug. He blushes a deep red from his cheeks to his ears, and you can't help but smile at how your family fawns over him.

"Linda," your Dad fusses, "Let the boy go. C'mon, son, help us set up the table." Eddie accepts the out and gives you a quick peck before following your Dad and Uncle outside.

Your aunts pepper you with questions about your job and how you and Eddie are doing, and when you look out the window onto the patio, you notice that Eddie is gazing back at you. He gives you a wink and a smile, and you want to swoon.

"Okay, everyone. Everything is ready, so let's eat!"

You let Eddie go ahead of you, helping your Dad with his plate before fixing your own. When you go outside, Eddie sits across from Linda, saving a spot for you next to him.

The conversation floats from topic to topic, friendly and easy, unlike anything Eddie had experienced growing up. The mood depended on how drunk his Father was or if he was even there. His mom always found ways to make the holidays special; he preferred when it was just the two of them anyway.

During the conversations, you occasionally felt Eddie's knee press against yours. It was something Eddie did when he needed grounding, and you silently put a hand on his knee as you and your dad joked back and forth.

After finishing your plates, you and your Aunt bring pie plates for everyone. You take the can of whipped cream and cover your pumpkin pie, turning when you feel Eddie's eyes on you. He leans in close so only you can hear him.

"Do we have whipped cream at the house, or will I have to give you my own whipped topping later?"

"Why not both?" you reply, and Eddie's doe eyes grow large as you take a bite of your pie. His death grip on his fork tells you you'll pay for this later.

"Alright," your dad says after everyone is full. "Who wants to play some cards?" You gleefully clap your hands before helping your Uncle to clear all the plates. Eddie doesn't know what is happening; you hadn't prepared him for this part.

He watches you run to your purse and pull out a bag filled with nickels, dimes, and quarters. He trails everyone as they head to the living room and take seats around a small round table. Your uncle hands you the deck of cards, and Eddie's eyebrows raise when he sees you shuffle and then deal the cards like you're a Vegas dealer.

"Let's start with a nickel ante, and deuces are wild."

The following two hours are some of the most entertained Eddie has been in a long time. He's impressed with your poker face and the way you are fleecing your relatives for their change. He also loves how you bicker and tease each other, especially you and your dad.

"C'mon, Monkey. Hurry up and deal, I'm aging over here!"

"I'll deal when I'm ready, old man!"

Eventually, Eddie joins in, but he only lasts for a short time among the card sharks. His face gives away everything his lips don't, so it only takes five hands before the change he had scrounged in his van is gone.

Just after 2 PM, you and Eddie say your goodbyes and load up the van with leftovers. He tells your Aunt Linda to bring her car into the shop on Monday for him to look over, and he and your Uncle plan to visit a couple of record stores the following weekend. You and your dad make plans to have lunch during the week.

Soon, you're on the road back to your home. You're driving this time, blaring your music since you're behind the wheel. You're belting out Lola by the Kinks at the top of your lungs, making Eddie smile as he takes in the fall scenery and steals glances at you.

Pulling into your driveway, Eddie hops out and grabs your things, following you as you head into your shared home.

"I'm gonna go change. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, babe," you say as you open bags. "I just need to put this stuff in the fridge, put the turkey in the oven, and I'll be there in a minute."

You eventually follow Eddie's clothes trail leading to your bedroom. When you open the door, he rests against the headboard and rubs his distended tummy.

"I just wanna sleep for two days."

"Well, Wayne is gonna be here at 7 PM, so we can only nap for 4 hours," you say as you disrobe. You strip down to your panties and throw on a light sweater before climbing in next to Eddie. He immediately pulls you to his side. You move your leg over his thigh while your hand softly takes over rubbing his belly.

"Did you have a good time?" you ask as you close your eyes, a yawn escaping you as Eddie runs a hand down your arm.

"I had a great time," he says softly. "I'm still shocked they like me. I keep waiting for them to tell you to wake up and smell the freak."

"Hey," you interject as you lean up and meet his gaze. "Stop with that; I hate it when you do that. My family likes you because they see what I see. Trust me, you would know if they didn't like you. My family isn't exactly what you would call subtle."

Eddie chuckles before leaning down to give you a light kiss. Your body is pliable to him as he shifts and moves you onto your side so he can spoon you. You snuggle under your comforter, Eddie's breath beating a steady rhythm against your neck as you drift off into a food coma.

"Love you, Princess."

"Love you too, Sweetheart."

LATER THAT EVENING:

Wayne: dang, that bird is stuffed.

Eddie: bird's not the only thing that got stuffed.

You: 😳

Wayne: please stop saying weird shit at the dinner table, son.

[zylophie]

Hiii❤

Cna I req akito x mischievous fem reader oneshot where reader teaches akito how to make pancakes, and she starts a flour fight and also smears syrup/fruit sauce on his face when theyre adding it? Ty <3

(๑ↀᆺↀ๑) — shinonome akito

✿ — ♬ ⌨️ᶻᶻᶻ : yue is typing... ✉!

✿ — ↻ SYNOPSIS : You, his precious girlfriend decided to help him out for the upcoming school festival by teaching him how to make fluffy pancakes...but during the pancakes making, a war broke out?!

✿ — ♯ GENRE : fluff, goofy kids just being kids as ever and female reader.

✿ — ↠ NOTE : hii hii stella! Sorry it's took me a while, I have to ask for help with how to make pancakes and all because I generally don't know tbh so hopefully it's still live up to your request! I love goofy kids, they are so wholesome<;33

✿ — ♪ REMINDER : reblogs & likes are appreciated, in doing so will motivate us to continue delivering stories to you, thank you for all of your supports ~ !

✿ — ♭ ⁿᵒʷ ᶜᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ... : @msith

✿ — ► ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : In The Kitchen, There is War

The sun shines brightly across the clear blue skies, the soft chirping of the bird's song echoes throughout the neighborhood.

The patter of bare feet slapped across the kitchen floor, running around hastily as a young girl start opening many...and many cabinets, looking for something hidden inside.

"Ugh, now where the heck is that flour...I could have sworn it was here..." Letting out a grunt, moving on to the next cabinet "Ah!"

Inside the wooden space lay a small sack, seemingly untouched "Found it!" You hummed happily, reaching inside to grab the sack of flour

Closing the cabinet behind and went to grab the baking powder in one of the kitchen shelves, "Aki, can you get the butter from the refrigerator? Make sure it's the unsalted butter!"

"Sure" Grabbing the butter from the refrigerator as he turn his head towards the girl rushing around the kitchen counter, carrying some ingredients in her arms "is that all?

"Yeah, and oh! Don't forget to wear your apron" You said while placing the ingredients down on the counter "You can borrow my dad's apron, it's on the hanger next to the oven on your right"

"Alright" Akito noted.

"Okay, I think we got everything, right?" Standing in front of the kitchen counter before you are various ingredients such as flour, sugar, milk, baking powder, unsalted butter and vegetable oil.

You cheered "Now we can start the cooking!"

"Why do I have to do this?"

"Oh come on, you know it's for our school festival, it's not that bad"

"And how do you expect me to trust that you wouldn't do anything stupid?"

"Hey! I can be nice once in a while too"

"... almost never" He smirks.

"I can't believe you!" You whined, puffing your cheeks up "Just trust me this once please?"

He stare before sigh in defeat "... Alright"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Some time later...

"They actually do look good" Akito smiles proudly at the sight of a very fluffy pancakes sitting nicely on the white plate, looking very delicious to devour "We are missing the syrup, where did you put them anyways-"

He paused himself when he felt the weight of powdery all over his hair. Akito reeled back, surprised and stared at the culprit in question: you

You only narrowed your eyes, grinning "Oops?"

Oh, it's on.

Before you could act, Akito grabbed his own handful of the white powdery and start throwing them at the girl, letting out a squeak in surprised when it's successfully hitting her cheek, covering her face in white which he laugh "Oh hello, miss clown, lovely weather today?"

"Oh, why indeed, it's a nice sunny day outside, isn't it mister popsicle, lovely hair you have right there by the way!" You looked at him with a playful smile before taking more flour and tossing it at the male.

"You ask for it!" He hide behind the counter for cover and plan his next attack.

...and the next few minutes, the room is filled with laughter and running with the floor and counter being covered by a large amount of flour. So white that they can see their own footprints tracing behind them as they continue playing their cat and mice game.

“Okay, okay you win!” You raise up your hands, surrendering.

"Are you sure?" He stood up from his hiding spot, walking towards you cautiously.

He was so focused on your face that he didn't notice the sweet and thick liquid on the tip of your fingers. Good.

"Yeah, you can see I don't have anything on me right?"

"Hmmm..."

When he was close enough, you took the opportunity to smears the syrups on his nose and cheek which he stagger backwards in surprised "Wha-"

"Hehe, aren't you a sweet one?"

"Why you little minx, get over here!!"

"Nah uh!" You squealed as another heap of flour hit the back of your dress, trying to make your escape but you were easily cornered with his arms around your waist and...

"Noooo!! Stop!!!"

You start laughing uncontrollably as he started tickling your sides up and down "Okay, okay, okay I surrender!! Just please stop hahaha!!"

“Promise?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah, Promise so please!!”

"Alright" He remove his hands slowly as you take a few moments to breathe.

The whole kitchen is a complete mess as if a tornado just come in and ruin the place. The poor pancakes are probably cold by now...

"This is going to be a pain to going home like this, I hope you know that"

"Aww, don't say that, you were so into the fight too, you can't lie to me!"

"Shut up before I kiss you"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Aftermath...

"(name), we're home! What do you want to eat for dinner to-WHY IS MY KITCHEN A MESS?" The older man was staring in disbelief at the white powdery covering the room as his daughter was awkwardly standing there.

"Oh hey, mom dad...I can explain..." You mumbled under your breath. Uh oh.

Akito bow his head "I'm so sorry miss and mister (surname), I did tried to stop her from playing around with the flour"

"Oh dear..." Your mom sighs, disappointed.

"(name), you're going to help me and clean this up" Your dad said, rolling his sleeves up.

"WHAT? Mom Dad! He is lyingggg, he was playing around too!!"

"Now now, don't bully your own boyfriend now"

"I'M NOT"

...thus the loud chattering within the (surname) household into the night.

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Twenty

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Strong Language, Smut, Violence, Depictions of War, Mentions of Death, Injury Detail, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Depictions of Reproductive Health, Suicidal Thoughts, World on Fire Spoilers.

Word Count: 6.1K

October 1940

The bombardment started the second he rounded the corner.

“Got time to play?”

“Maybe later, Joseph.” Joseph Mason, his older brother Albert and little sister Betty ran along the ginnel in Tom’s wake. A few of the younger children, which were Mrs Mason’s Tom didn’t know, struggled to keep up on their chubby legs.

“Haven’t you got anything else to wear?”

Betty shushed her brother. “It’s his uniform!”

“Well?” Joseph ignored her. “Haven’t you?”

“Free sweets and tram tickets with the uniform, Joseph.” Tom continued ahead, his little battalion of children trotting along beside him. He smiled.

“What’s that?” Betty pointed to the silver coin pinned to his navy shirt.

“Distinguished Service Medal.”

“Are you a hero?” Albert suddenly seemed interested. Tom smirked.

“Always was, always will be.” Thank God Bess wasn’t here to hear him say that. Or Albie. He’d have laughed himself into next week.

“What you doing here then?” said Betty.

“Hitler sunk my ship, gotta find me a new one.”

“Did you kill any Germans?” Albert was still awed by Tom as he tried to keep up.

“Loads.” Tom said, turning on his heel. The children stopped abruptly and stared up at him. A wry grin quirked the corners of Tom’s mouth. “Killed a few kids an’ all.”

They shuffled back in fear. Mrs Mason told them to keep away from Tom Bennett before the war. Now he was back, and he’d actually killed people! Joseph found his quavering voice. “What for?”

“Asking too many questions.” Tom left them behind in the ginnel and turned into the street. The smile faded from his face. The kit bag on his shoulder fell to the floor and, for a brief moment, his mind stilled. The house. What had happened to the house? Why was there rubble across the road? His mind sped up, images flashing like a zoetrope through his mind.

“Lois?” he croaked, running to the house. “Dad!?” His feet carried him up the pile of bricks scattered outside the front door, and he peered into the kitchen. The table and chairs had splintered, fragments of them remaining, and he saw it. The bomb. Its inactive shell lying before the fireplace. Pressing his face against the little glass that remained in the window, Tom looked up. His father’s iron bedframe dangled precariously from the hole in the kitchen ceiling, and above it, the cold and grey Manchester sky stared back at him.

Tom slipped as he took a step back. His chest was rising rapidly, the panic that accompanied him every day since the Exeter awakening every nerve. Blood pumped through his fingers. He balled his fists a few times to regain their feeling. Find them. He was as untethered here as he was at sea. Find them. An image, Vera in her little cot, gazing up at the ceiling as it came crashing down around her, flashed into his eyes and he rubbed it away. Find them. He slid down the rubble pile and before he’d taken his first step towards the abandoned kit bag, terror froze him once more.

The Vaughn house. It was intact. Still standing, but the windows were boarded with black-painted wood. Tom hammered on the door. “Fergal? Dot?” He waited. Nothing. Not a sound. Not a whisper.

“Fuck.” The word hissed from his mouth in panic. He grabbed his kit bag and raced to the only place he could think of. The hospital. If anything’s happened, they’ll be at the hospital. And Bess – fuck – Bess will be on shift. She would have been on shift, why would she be in Longsight? Please let her have been on shift.

“They found you a ship then?” Joseph shouted with a smile as Tom ran past. He didn’t hear. All he could think about was his family. His little family, shrinking. I can’t lose anyone else, not after mum. Not after Vic. Not after Albie. Already, the world felt smaller as he ran towards the Royal Infirmary. Through the parks, ginnels and scrapyards, the world was the hiss of his breath, the thundering of his heart and thoughts of his family. He rounded into the dockyard, sprinting towards the canal bridge that led to the city’s centre. The dockyard.

In an instant he changed direction, pelting along the dockside between engineers and labourers. Some tipped their caps to him, offering their thanks and “welcome back”, others hissed at him to get out of the way. Still, Tom thought of only one thing.

“Fergal?” He called as he pushed through the crowd of workmen. “Fergal Vaughn? Does anyone know where I can find Fergal Vaughn?”

“Tom?” The rasped Cork brogue cut through the clatter of metal. Tom launched himself at the squat man in relief, his arms wrapping around Fergal’s broad shoulders. Fergal barely had time to comprehend this out of character display before Tom pulled back and unleashed a tirade of questions.

“The house-I-I went home and the house-” Fergal placed his hands on Tom shoulders to calm him but the young man continued. “Bess? Bess? Is she ok? And Dot? And-”

“They’re all fine, my boy. Just fine.” Fergal rubbed his shoulders soothingly. “It was the same strike as what got your place. Only blew the windows out, thank the Lord.”

“And Lois and Dad? And the baby? Where are they? I-I don’t know where to go,” Tom’s voice cracked, thinking of his childhood home destroyed, the last place that held any concrete memories of his mother. Through his panic, he saw a piece of Fergal’s lightness dissipate. The round and reddened face of Fergal Vaughn, the man Tom had known since childhood, displayed that one thing he had never seen cross it before. Pity.

“Oh, my dear boy.” Fergal said softly, taking Tom by the hand to sit between the metal sleepers and tell him everything.

Bess was in no mood to stop and chat. Sister Stern had given her a bollocking for not changing the beds quickly, and Joan was in a foul mood because the soldier she was seeing had dumped her unceremoniously. So when she approached Carver Mills to see Mrs Russo waving, her cigarette leaving a trail of smoke in the air, Bess groaned. The silk scarf wrapped about Mrs Russo’s head took flight on the autumn wind and bustled towards Bess’ feet, and she knew a conversation was unavoidable.

“Ta, Bess.” Mrs Russo said brightly, holding her hand out for the scarf.

“Hiya,” Bess rubbed her eyes and fussed with her keys.

“Had a good shift?” Mrs Russo’s voice was offensively loud.

“Yes, fine.” Bess shifted uncomfortably under Mrs Russo’s watchful gaze and tried to squeeze past the round woman to reach the door.

“I’m expecting best behaviour from you girls while I’m away at my daughter’s,” Mrs Russo said, tying the scarf around her permed hair. “Caught Joan trying to sneak in that new beau of hers-”

Bess pushed the door open wearily. “They aren’t together anymore.” Mrs Russo paused her bustling.

“Poor girl. I’ll see if I can get some chocolate at the corner shop. Try and cheat my ration book.” She winked and tottered away. “Ta-ra, Bess.”

The door to the old mill swung shut heavily behind Bess, and she trudged up the stone stairs towards her flat. A glint of light cut the gloomy stairwell in two, and Helen poked her head out of the door to her own flat.

“Bess! A few of us are going to The Crown tonight for a lock in, do you want to-” She stopped as Bess turned to face her. “Christ, you look awful. Tough day?” Bess could do naught but nod. “Tell you what. You stay home and rest, I’ll take Joan. Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else and all that. There’s bound to be a desperate soldier looking for an easy girl.” She laughed and closed the door.

A moment later and Bess was in the welcome peace of her little home. Smalls were strung across the kitchen on a length of rope. The morning’s empty cup of tea still sat on the rickety table beside an old copy of Vogue, the christening dress she was making for Vera abandoned on the armchair by the window. Since the start of the war, fabric was hard to come by, lace and silk especially. Douglas let Bess take a cutting from Marie’s wedding dress. She wanted something from each side of the family, and parting Robina from her store of antique lace had been a challenge, but she persevered. Still, the gown was almost complete. Bess removed her nurse’s wimple and placed it by the garment, running her fingers over the ivory silk. Darling Douglas. The christening couldn’t come soon enough. After everything, Lois needed some happiness. It would be even better with Tom on leave. Bess’ heart skipped and she padded to the bedroom. She perched by her simple vanity, a mirror balanced on a school writing desk, kicked off her shoes and took the stack of Tom’s letters out from the drawer.

October 16th can’t come soon enough. Lois’ food, Cora and Dot making a fuss. Little Vera and you.

The last letter was dated early September. Bess knew Tom couldn’t write all the time. He was either too busy onboard or, on occasion, they were prevented from writing during particular missions. Her only knowledge that he was ok were the continued reports of the Navy’s skirmishes on the wireless and in the newspaper. The HMS Keith had sunk, but Lois received a telegram that Tom was fine and awaiting the next ship home. Bess looked at the calendar on her wall. October 15th. Tomorrow. God willing, he’d be here with her, tomorrow. Instinctively, her hand reached for the photograph of Tom, now propped against the mirror. Every morning and every night, he watched her in sepia as she dressed and undressed. She kissed it and, placing it back, caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Helen was right. She looked awful. The swift removal of her wimple caused tufts of the hair to stick up at odd angles. The uniform she wore was bloodied and dirty. Her hands, hard now from hours work at the hospital, were grubby. She wiped them on her face. Her dark eyes were framed by circles of purple and grey, and her usually plump cheeks were gaunt and pale. The only thing that remained were her full and pink lips. Against the dullness of her skin, they looked garish. Bess sighed and one by one removed her hair pins. Watching her hair come undone, in some places curled from the pins, others straight and frizzy, she wondered what it was that had so changed the Longsight boys towards her. How she went from “witch” to something desirable. What drove Walter Watson from bullying her to forcing himself upon her behind the Palais.

It wasn’t as though she had changed all that much from those difficult years to now. When presented with the option to speak or remain silent, Bess always chose the latter. That is, unless someone cast insult over her chosen few. Then, as Cora said, “there’ll be none so fierce as Bess on judgement day”. She wasn’t as kind as Cora, with her thoughtful gestures and selflessness. Nor did she have her gentle charm and beauty. Dot, on the other hand, was an entity unto her own design. Despite her tendency for the flighty and sudden outbursts of judgement, wherever Dot went, the sun seemed to follow. Funny and light, the world seemed brighter in her company. Bess still stared at her reflection. What did she bring? A haughty quietness that most found intimidating? Her use as a seamstress and pianist? Over her shoulder, she caught sight of the photograph pinned to the wall by her bed.

It was at Albie’s birthday celebration in the summer. Dot had taken it with the camera Harry gave Bess in the spring. In it, Tom and Bess stood side by side. His arm was gripped tightly around her middle, pulling her to him and highlighting the slightness of her waist and fullness of her hips. The blouse she wore, tucked into her slacks, curved around her breasts. At her ear, Tom was whispering something sinful; Bess could tell by the girlish giggle captured in celluloid. For the first time, she was embarrassed by the image. Her womanhood was so wantonly on display. So, that’s what the boys saw in her, that summer she came back from Manchester.

“Never thought I’d be in this position with Bess Vaughn. That little freak from school.”

Vomit rose to her mouth as the memory of stale smoke and alcohol flooded her nose. Bess’ eyes snapped from the image to her reflection. Gaunt face, dark eyes, grey skin.

“Then you came back from Manchester with this. And these-”

Bess rubbed her hand across the bodice of her uniform. Her chest felt tight. Heavy and not her own.

“This is all you’re good for, Bess Vaughn, all you will ever be good for.”

The memory of Walter’s assault on her was plaguing Bess of late. With Tom at war and Douglas-. And Douglas-. Her two defenders were gone. At night, alone when she imagined Tom with her and her hand slid beneath her nightdress, Bess recalled the way his neck strained as he screamed at the man. The crack of his fist against skin. But no sooner had the memory of Tom’s dominance warmed her cheeks, chest, thighs, was Walter’s sweaty face swimming into view and ruining her bliss.

“This is all you’re good for, Bess Vaughn, all you will ever be good for.”

Her near lifeless eyes blinked back at her in the worn mirror and, body humming with hatred, she pushed herself away from her reflection. The stool fell backward with a thunk onto the wooden floor and Bess stood motionless. The day had been full of misery at every turn. Bloodied soldiers to be sewn back together. Wrecked buildings pouring onto Manchester’s streets. Her own self-loathing. Too tired to drag her body to bed, Bess hovered at the centre of her room, lulled into an imitation of sleep somewhere between lucidity and nightmare.

Downstairs, the front door of the mill crashed closed, and she jolted from her half-sleep. Joan was obviously back from the infirmary and still in a foul mood. Bess sighed, ran a hand through her tangled hair and uncovered the duvet. The clock read 6 o’clock and she hadn’t even removed her apron. Beyond the door, Joan was tearing up the stairs of Carver Mills, her heels sounding more like jackboots as she pounded the steps. Bess stomped across the floor. Her hand closed around the doorhandle, ready to slam it shut-

BANG BANG BANG

She froze. From her spot in the bedroom doorway, Bess watched the front door rattle on its hinges. On tiptoe, she edged forwards. The thundering fists hammered on the door again.

BANG BANG BANG

She tried to remember if she had locked it behind her. No, of course she hadn’t. Shit. Only Mrs Russo and the other nurses had access to the flats; there was no need to lock it until curfew. Not even Helen or Joan, in her anger, would bang down the door. Bess rushed forwards, ready to bar the intruder as best she could. She knew there was little she could do to stop them. Even with her nurses’ strength and steeliness, an intruder would overpower her. Walter Watson flashed across her vision. What if he was home? What if Queenie or Frank told him where to find her?

BANG BANG BANG

Hang on. An intruder wouldn’t knock. Again, she froze, this time in confusion. The last knock had barely rung out when, as if in slow motion, Bess watched the handle turn. The door flew open and the person on the other side stormed in.

It was like watching a cat stalk its prey. The whites of his eyes burned like a wild beast’s, the blue at their icy centre darted around the room madly until they landed on her. They widened, then narrowed. A predator locking onto its next meal. For them, everything faded from view. The peeling wallpaper, the laundry, the few scattered belongings. Everything, except for Bess. Excitement, or was it fear, fluttered in her ribcage. The pathway to her was blocked by the kitchen table and, striding towards her, he threw it aside in one swift motion. She shivered, swaying where she stood at the flex of his hands. Bess barely had time to register his thin cheeks, the lines that framed his eyes, before those same hands gripped her face hard.

“Tom-” His mouth crashed into hers. It was hard, a clash of teeth and tongue. With her words stolen, Bess grew light-headed and struggled for breath between Tom’s harsh kisses. A hand moved from her face to her neck as she tried to speak, keeping her head in place against him. The other fell to her waist and gripped the flesh there roughly.

“Tom, I-” He silenced her. Swallowing Bess’ words, he roughly tugged the hair fisted in his hand and bit the exposed flesh of her neck with a growl. She whimpered, hand gripping onto his shoulder for support. For something real. Surely this wasn’t real? “Tom,” His assault on her neck was rough and through it, still Bess struggled to speak. “Tom, I thought-I thought you weren’t back ‘til tomorrow-”

He ignored her. The hand holding her waist moved to grope the fullness of her bottom and pull her harder against him. The strength of the action forced the breath from Tom’s chest in a huff as, overwhelmingly, his world became Bess. The scent of her sweat. Old perfume. Her pathetic whimpers. The small hands clawing at his body. The swell of her breasts pressed against his chest. The ripe flesh of her bottom. The smell of her sex. He was an animal on the hunt. Uncontrollable. Terrified. Surviving. Hungry. He bit the meat of her shoulder and she cried out, at last pushing him away. Tom’s hands flew once more to the sides of her face and held her in his vice-like grip.

They stood watching each other. Beneath the furrow of Tom’s brow, the hard crease of his forehead, the usually bright eyes that Bess so adored, always full of mirth and mischief, were desperate. If she looked closely, she swore she could make out tears, taunting him. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, the air passing through his flared nostrils. The line of his mouth was shut firm, though swollen from the way he kissed her, and his jaw- fuck, that jaw, was set hard and strong. Bess should have been worried. Scared even. Instead, her heart flooded with unease.

The dark eyes that Tom so adored, always full of certainty and knowing, were searching. Not disgusted by his depravity, or the violent lust with which he needed her. Her hands wound up his arms and grasped the hands still on her face, and Tom watched as the same emotion that had washed over Fergal’s face, washed over Bess. Pity.

He didn’t need fucking pity. He needed stability. Comfort. Home. Something real. One of Bess’ thumbs stroked the side of his hand and he snapped at its tenderness. Tom brought his face to hers, devouring her in a hungry kiss. He walked them backwards until Bess hit the bedroom door. Breaking momentarily from her lips, Tom bent down, a hand sliding up one of Bess’ stockinged legs, and hitched it around his waist. She barely had time to steady herself before he thrust his groin against hers, his hard length pressing against her through the sturdy cotton of his bell bottoms.

Still, he didn’t say a word. As Tom’s hands roamed greedily across her backside, her hips, her breasts, Bess tried not to think about his silence. It was true, she had imagined the devouring ferocity of what having him would be like when he returned home. But each time, it was bookended with tenderness. Whispered adorations and gentle devotions. Not this…anger. The first prickle of fear ran over her. Not at what he would do, but why he was doing it. She tried to reach out to him. To caress his face or run her hand through his hair. He batted it away, gripping her wrist and pinning it to the door as, with ferocity, he ground his hips into hers. The movements were hard and desperate. Whether by the hand caught beneath his bruising grip, or the urgency with which he rubbed his clothed length against her, Bess’ mind went blank and she moaned. At last, Tom spoke.

“Fuck.” His head lolled to nuzzle at her neck, and when she met his hips with the thrusting of her own, he growled. He could take no more of this. He lifted Bess over his shoulder and kicked the bedroom door open. It banged against the wall, and when Bess shushed him, he ignored her. Tom threw her down onto the bed and knelt between her parted legs. Without hesitation he tore at her uniform. Tom pulled the apron so hard its bow gave away, and he tossed it aside. His hands fisted her layers of skirt to reach her suspenders. He unhooked them roughly and pulled down Bess’ woolen stockings. The second ripped, and through the haze of her increasing arousal, Bess noted that they’d need darning. The thought vanished when Tom pushed her knees away and rolled her suddenly onto her front.

“Tom-” Whatever she was going to say died in her throat at the sound of ripping fabric and buttons hitting the floor. Tom tore the back of her bodice open, kissing the skin there as he pushed the sleeves away from her shoulders. Bess slipped out of her uniform, squealing when Tom let go of her. Her body fell forward onto the bed and he roughly pulled the skirt away from her legs. Bess was near nakedness now, and excitement warmed the apex of her thighs. When Tom pushed her small chemise over her bottom and smacked the skin there, she burned.

“On your knees.” His voice was low and cracked, as though his throat were full of gravel. Her cunt clenched. Immediately, obediently, Bess pushed her body off the bed. She was too slow for Tom. He grabbed her by the hips and wrenched her towards him. Resting on all fours, Bess tried to look over her shoulder. Tom pushed her face away. “Don’t look at me.” The darkness of his order made her shudder. She faced forward, toward the damp-stained wall and the photograph of her and Tom. The one she’d been gazing at mere moments before he arrived.

“This is all you’re good for, Bess Vaughn, all you will ever be good for.”

No. She shook Walter’s words from her mind. This was Tom, not Walter. Rough and angry and needy, yes. But Tom. Not Walter.

Tom’s hands rested on the apples of Bess’ backside, and she felt him lean his weight there a moment. Heard him hit the ground. He was kneeling, wrenching the now soaked knickers she wore down her thighs and, before she could comprehend it, lapping greedily at her core. How long they stayed there, with Tom’s arms wrapped around her thighs as he worshipped her cunt, Bess couldn’t say. Only that with every grunt of his throat, every suckle at her sex, every eager flash of his tongue against her folds, the tension in her abdomen increased. The worry she could not put aside, did the same.

If the callous and unashamed way Tom devoured Bess caused her arousal and anxiety to grow, his next movement all but obliterated any thought of him regaining his senses. With one last smack to her bottom, Tom departed. Bess’ thighs clenched. His sudden absence was frustrating. Infuriating even. She knew she needn’t wait long for him, though. Atop the mussed bedding, the navy of his uniform shirt landed. A thud on the ground indicated he had abandoned his boots, and the hush of fabric and panted breaths told Bess he was battling with his slacks. She yearned to help him. To turn around and with fast hands rid him of his last barrier of restraint. But Tom knew Bess. He’d known her long enough, well enough, to recognise her craving for control and independence. Not today. Not now. She was alive. She was here before him, bottom raised, sweating gleaming at the dip of her back, panting with need, doing whatever he asked of her. Just as she began turning her head, he ran two long fingers through her wet slit and she moaned his name, pushing backwards against his fingers for relief.

“Sheath.” Tom grunted, taking himself in hand. He was painfully hard, precum already weeping from the angry head of his cock. His eyes roamed over Bess’ exposed heat, pink and slick and waiting for him. The urge not to drive forward, full into her, was overwhelming.  

“We used the last before you left,” Bess was breathless, waiting. A hard warmth brushed against her entrance and she groaned. “Please, Tom.” He wasted no time. That was the certainty that the sheath didn’t matter. One hand one the small of Bess’ back, the other gripped at the base of his cock, Tom thrust forward, heading falling at the tight heat that welcomed him. Both hands holding the flesh of her hips, Tom withdrew himself from Bess before slamming forward. Bess buried her face in the bedsheets, muffling her cry. She had missed him these last months, and though her fingers temporarily satiated her longing, nothing could prepare Bess for the sensation of Tom Bennett filling her completely.

Over and over, Tom’s hips snapped into Bess’ cunt. His sandy hair was plastered to his forehead, sweat pouring from his brow. The hands that held Bess in place were unmoving, the nails biting into her tender skin. Over and over, Bess moaned his name. When she tried to reach a hand back, desperate to touch him, Tom seized it and, body bent low across her back, held it against the bed. His breath was hot in her ear, hard with pants and grunts of what should have been desire. Between her paroxysms of pleasure, Bess thought they sounded angry.

Like all these other thoughts, they disappeared with every thrust of Tom’s cock into her. His passion was confirmed again when he gripped the auburn hair at the base of her neck and bit her pulse point. Pain fluttered through her veins and excitement lit her core. When Tom did it again, she sped towards painful release. Her hip was burning under his hand, the skin of her buttocks sore from the continued slam of his hip bones. Her back, bent and pressed against the bed, ached and the pulse of a headache crept under the spot were Tom pulled her hair taut. Tears were beginning to prickle her eyes, and when Tom pulled again on her hair, a mangled sob of pain and pleasure ripped from her throat as her walls spasmed around him.

That was it. With a final few violent thrusts, Tom spilled himself inside her. Blinding white light flashed across his eyes and his whole body seemed to crackle with electricity. This wasn’t a release of passion or love, but something more depraved. A violent shock to the system that proved he was still alive. Could still feel. He’d seen men charred beyond recognition, heard the tear of bombs through the sky and torpedoes in water. The groaning of metal as it gave way to bullets. Feared drowning, being mown down or else ripped limb from limb by enemy explosives. Come home to find his childhood didn’t exist and missed the death of his father, years after he watched is mother slowly succumb to nothingness.

Tom looked sideways at the body beneath him. Though her face was half-hidden in the bed, hair frizzy and in disarray, there was no mistaking the tear tracks that ran down Bess’ face. Her breath was ragged and erratic, the small whimpers she made so different to her usual sounds of pleasure. Tom pulled out of her suddenly and though she didn’t move, she gasped. He looked at her lying there, so still and vulnerable. With tentative hands, he caressed her legs and knelt on the bed to lie beside her body. She didn’t look at him, even turned away once he had brushed the hair from her face and, crumbling with shame, Tom buried his face in her neck and began to cry.  

7 o’clock. The sun had just descended below the Manchester skyline and only Tom and Bess’ laboured breathing could be heard throughout the flat. Bess hadn’t moved. Not for a long while. Against his thighs, Tom could feel the gentle shake of her legs. Breath still shuddering from their exertion, her back occasionally brushed against his hard chest. The sight of her like this, quaking because of him, should have made Tom proud. But when she shivered, actually shivered, he felt nothing but disgrace. He should have ravished her when he got home. Instead, he'd used her. And she’d let him.

“Are you cold?” he whispered in her ear.

“A little, yeah.” Grabbing the quilt from the floor, Tom draped it over Bess, his warm hand beneath the patchwork rubbing lazily at her side. It was only then did she roll over to face him. Her small hand, with its long, dexterous fingers, brushed across his cheek. Tom knew she was studying him. “You’ve become a man far too quickly,” she said. Tom didn’t need her to explain. His hair was lighter, already on a stress-induced course to grey. The youthful fullness of his cheeks had gone, and now the skin stretched too tightly over his prominent cheekbones. Sometimes, when he caught sight of himself in a mirror, he could see his skeleton sitting just below the surface of his pallid skin. He knew too, that the hardness had settled not just about his face, but in his soul. War had sunk its terrible claws into him, and the man he swore he’d never become, his father, was beginning to appear. Tom brushed some sweat-stuck hair from Bess’ forehead.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She continued to stroke his face, and Tom placed a palm there to stop the action. If she carried on with this gentleness, he’d cry again.

“I just had to make sure you were real,” At this, Bess laughed.

“What do you mean?”

Tom sat up, leaning on his elbow and, distracted by the hair wrapped around his finger, hurried his words. “When I saw the house, I just panicked-And I didn’t know where to go and then I went to your dad-I was thinking-I was gonna come here but I didn’t know if you’d still-and then I went through the dockyard and your dad-your dad told me everything-and when he said you were ok I-I,” he took a shaking breath. “I had to come and see for myself. That you’re still here.”

Bess was silent. Her eyes darted about his worried face, unsure of what he meant. “Did you think something had happened?” It was Tom who looked confused now.

“Bess, I went home and the fucking house had been blown up and neither you or my family were anywhere to be seen.”

“But, I thought-”

“No. I didn’t know.” Tom spat. His anger was flaring again as he swung his legs off the bed and pulled on his bell bottoms. What he was planning to do, he didn’t know, and when Bess quietly said his name, he deflated, slumping back onto the bed. “I didn’t know,” he said weakly, and immediately Bess was at his side, rubbing circles on his back and kissing his bullet wound scar. He collapsed against her, and slowly she pulled him back under the covers with her, his head resting against her naked chest.

There was nothing to be said. What could she say? Tom Bennett had been away at war and come home to learn his father had been killed by the very thing he was fighting. As if reading her mind, Tom spoke quietly into her chest. “What’s the point? We go and fight, to keep you all safe, and it doesn’t fucking work.”

“That’s not the only reason-”

“It is for me.” Tom said firmly. “I’ve got nothing else but my family, and you. You’re what makes this bastard war worth fighting.” Bess looked down at him. At his elegant nose and furrowed brow. At his lean and muscular body curled around hers, and her heart swelled with enormous affection for Tom Bennett. She kissed his head and he settled for a while. Content to have him home, nose buried in his hair, the first comforts of sleep beckoned to Bess.

“Your dad said you were there.” Though quiet, she jumped at his voice and, swallowing the lump that appeared in her throat, she murmured that yes, she had been there. Tom chewed his lip, considering his next question. After Bess, it was all he had thought about since Fergal told him of that night’s events. “What did he look like?”

Bess froze. “Tom, you don’t need-” He cut her off.

“It can’t be anything worse than what I imagine.”

He had a point. Gripping one of his hands in hers, she told him about the events immediately after the bomb detonated over his childhood home.

“Dadda was trying to get us back to the shelter, it was difficult to see because of all the smoke, but when the ambulance arrived, I could see it was Lois and Connie. And when Dadda came out of your house, there was blood on his uniform. I didn’t know what state your dad was in, but I knew that whatever it was, Lois couldn’t see him. So me, Connie and one of the paramedics went in to get him out.”

Tom sniffled against her chest and Bess hugged him tighter.

“He looked so peaceful, Tom. I won’t lie to you and say he was perfect; a beam from the ceiling got his arm so there was a messy gash there, lots of blood, and what I assume was falling rubble had caught his head. Nothing dreadful!” she quickly said when Tom flinched. “Just a few little cuts around his face. But he was sat in his chair by the fire, newspaper hanging out of one hand. Like he’d just drifted off to sleep. Thinking of you, I expect.”

“Shut up,” Tom wiped his nose. “He was probably thinking about Mrs Chase’s smalls-”

“The sooner you realise that your dad adored you, Tom Bennett, the better!” She pinched his arm. “You know, him and Lois had a fight that day. She’d gone off to work and he was so down in the mouth about it, we said we’d look after Vera that night.” Tom said nothing and she continued. “What did Lois say when you saw her?”

“Eh?” Tom looked up at her through his long lashes.

“Lois. What did she say when you saw her?”

Tom’s arm around her waist grew tighter. “I came straight here.” Bess hid her smile from him, trying not to let her joy show as she ran her hand again through his hair.

“I think perhaps you should go and see her. Now,” Bess added when Tom tried to argue. “Tom, she’s so unhappy. Missing you, and your pa, raising little Vera alone. I suppose Dadda told you about Vernon?” Tom nodded. “Go. Now.” She kissed the top of his head and shooed him from the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Notes: I read an article about a gunner who fought in the Battle of River Plate getting the Distinguished Service Medal, so I figured Tom would get one too. The HMS Keith actually sunk during the evacuation of Dunkirk but for the sake of the story, I made its sinking a little later.

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[afticxs]

TWILIGHT GEARS chapter one

light poked in through your bedroom curtains, making you stir from your slumber. a large exhale exhausted from your lungs and you looked around, confused.

usually, your dad woke you up, at the same time, without fail. it was way past two in the afternoon. your dad gets you up at nine fifteen every single day. you looked around, sorting out your bed head as much as you could without your usual components.

stumbling out of bed, you limped out of your bedroom, still dazed with sleep, and padded your way towards your father’s room at the end of the hall.

“dad?” your head peaked in, scanning his perfectly made bed. it was the same as he left it yesterday. you huffed, maybe he was downstairs..

rushing down the hall, passing by doors and lively objects that decorated the otherwise lonely house. your feet thudded on the wooden stairs as you jogged down them, swinging around the banister post as you called out for your dad again.

you turned your head to look over your shoulder, the rest of your body swivelling as you walked into your kitchen. everything remained untouched. muttering to yourself, you picked up the house phone on the counter. he hadn’t left you a voicemail or anything.

you were so confused.

he would’ve let you know if he was staying overtime for the day shift. your frowned, dialling his work phone. you held it up to your ear for about a minute before it went to voicemail.

“hi dad.. um where are you? just wanna make sure you’re okay, call me when you get this. bye, love you.”

you put the phone back down and sighed. i’m reading into it too much.. you thought, sitting down and turning on the tv. you flicked through channels until you came across footloose and put the remote on the coffee table.

bringing your legs up to your chest, you tucked your chin into your knees. you refused to think about your supposedly missing dad. you already thought he was missing, for pete’s sake! he’s still at work, you tell yourself.

you remain on the couch until footloose finishes, finally getting up to be productive. you hadn’t even brushed your teeth today!

you don’t remember a lot. you’ve never been outside the house, as far as you know. well, you have. once. you snuck out after seeing an advert on tv about freddy fazbear’s pizza. you begged your dad to let you go, but he was so persistent about keeping you inside.

he claimed that there were bad people out to get you. also that you had a fragile heart, which is why you can’t remember anything before your thirteenth birthday. that’s what your dad said.

so you snuck out when he was holed up in his study–this was before he worked the day shift. you briefly thought about the hospital staff giving your dad back the night shift, however he would’ve been asleep. in his empty bed.

you stole a few bucks off of the counter and left.

your dad found you shortly after, you didn’t even get to finish your pizza as he dragged you into the car and sped home. you remember his lecture carrying on until you got home.

you can’t leave the house, i instilled these rules to keep you safe, you have everything you need at home, you’re fragile and deathly sick. anything could cause something catastrophic. nobody knows what happened to you. nobody can know your face.

your dad was such a worry wart.

you find leftover lasagne to put in the microwave and watched it spin, boredom finally settling in. you sighed, looking at the clock. it read 04:27.

what the hell. actually, what the hell.

you began to grow nervous. what if he grew tired of you and left? dealing with your poor health must’ve taken a toll on him.

you frowned, suddenly not hungry and walking away towards the stairs. your feet dragged your body up the stairs and you shuffled towards your room.

you were never in your pyjamas for so long, you’re dad said staying in your bed clothes was pure laziness. so you changed.

it was a fairly hot evening, so you pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a basic top. while you were upset that your dad was gone, you could use this as an opportunity to explore.

after slipping your socked feet into your boots and tying them up, you found your dad’s money jar that was left on his desk. you pulled out a couple bucks, maybe ten and went on your merry way.

you liked freddy’s. the pizza was seriously enjoyable. it felt like a luxury, stepping anywhere outside that wasn’t your garden was a luxury.

you pulled open the door to the pizzeria, stepping through and being hit in the face with screaming kids. some ran around, squealing and laughing while three singing animatronics performed for the calmer ones who listened to the music.

weaving between the tables, you nervously shuffled up to the counter. you were taller than you were five years ago which mean you could see over the counter better this time.

“hi,” you smiled at the employee who smiled back, clearly tired of their shift, “hello, what can i get you today?”

like last time, you requested a cheese pizza and were told that if you sat on the spare table, someone would bring out your pizza.

after pulling out the cash you pocketed and paying, you settled in one in the corner as all the window seats being taken up. your fingers drummed unrelentingly, giving you something to do while you bided your time.

the children rushing past your table made you smile. they were so.. happy. they were free to do whatever they wanted without a paranoid parent telling them to stay inside all the time.

then, you sighed. was it bad that you were starting to think that your dad being away was good? just because you have freedom now. he wasn’t a horrible dad, no he was amazing. he just cared. a lot. too much.

the pizza you ordered being delivered to your table was what broke you out of your chain of thought. you thanked the waitress and immediately picked out a slice.

you chewed on the slice, enjoying the mozzarella in your mouth. a satisfied smile settled on your lips as you finished the crust. you got through about three slices and started a fourth before someone slide into the couch infront of you.

you placed down your half eaten pizza slice and looked at the boy who had a smirk on his face. he leant back, getting comfortable and you took the time to look at his nametag.

michael, s-m.

tilting your head, you waited for the employee to speak first.

“hey,” he started, “what’s your name, stranger?”

you look at him weirdly, but answer his question nonetheless, “y/n.”

michael smiled and pointed to his badge, “as you can already see, my name is michael.”

your shoulders jumped momentarily as you breathed in a bit too hard, “what does s-m stand for?”

michael rolled his eyes, “schmidt-afton, i prefer my ma’s name, though. my pa reeks.”

letting your tongue leave the roof of your mouth, you tutted accidentally, “ah.”

“why’re you here by yourself?”

your lips parted to make way for a breath before speaking, “i’m eating..” your eyes drifted back to your pizza slice. michael then scoffed a laugh, “obviously, but by yourself? that’s a whopping two thousand calories you’re consuming, pounds of oil too..”

“yeah,” you shrugged, picking your slice up and biting into your food again. there was silence between the two of you, the awkwardness only michael picked up on. why would you? the only interactions you’ve ever had are with your dad.

with a clearance of his throat, michael decided to start up a conversation again, “i don’t see you in here often.. or at all.”

your brow twitched slightly while you looked at michael through your lashes, “oh, i can’t leave my house.”

michael shuffled in his seat, leaning onto the table, “what, you’re grounded for life or..?” to him, you didn’t look like the type to do something to get you in your parent’s permanent bad book.

finally finishing your slice, you gulped, “no, my dad just doesn’t like it.”

“what, so he’s the freakazoid type?” michael suggested, raising a brow at you. he felt kind of bad. but your face twisted and you raised your voice, “hey! he’s a great dad.”

but if he was so great, why did he leave? he didn’t even say anything to you. if he was so great, he wouldn’t let you cry about him to a random boy as soon as he’s mentioned.

michael gasped, now feeling really bad. you cried, pushing the rest of your pizza slices away from you. your body trembled as you buried your palms in your eyes.

“i, i’m sorry! really, i didn’t mean to make you cry..!” the employee didn’t know what to do with his hands, his arm wavering back and forth while he fought a mental battle to decide wether or not he patted your shoulder.

you shook your head, still crying, “it’s not ya, your fault, it’s just that my, hah, dad just hasn’t come home f-from work yet and i, hic! don’t know where he is..!” you were sobbing so loudly, attracting attention from nearby tables, but you went on, “he hasn’t called or.. or anything, he just up and left! i think he’s tired of looking after me because my health is too high maintenance so he had enough of me and ran off somewhere!”

you sobbed and michael watched as your tears streaked down your arms and left crusted marks. michael’s fingers twisted around your wrists and brought your hands away from your now irritated eyes, “woah, hey don’t cry..”

you looked up at him, your eyes glistening in the pizzeria’s fluorescent light. michael hummed, looking down, “.. say, i’ll help you look for him!”

michael spotted that you visibly lightened up, “you will?”

the boy nodded, “yeah, as soon as my shift finishes in..” michael checks his wrist watch, “twenty minutes.”

you nodded, wiping your eyes with your arm, “thank you, it means a lot.”

the boy tossed you a handkerchief from his pocket as he stood up, “don’t mention it, i’ll see ya in twenty minutes.”

the pizza you ordered had been completely devoured by the time michael’s shift ended. he came over to the table you were at, “y’ready?”

eagerly, you nodded and stood up. your eyes were still slightly red, but for the most part you had completely composed yourself.

the two of you strolled down the streets of downtown hurricane as michael asked you questions, “where was he last at? work?”

you nodded, “yeah, he works at the emergency room.”

“that’s where we start then,” michael smiled at you, “we’ll see if he clocked out, if he has, then he’s probably waiting for you at home right now.”

“right.”

you let michael guide you to the hospital.

you had never seen this part of the city before. but you knew what your dad’s car looked like. it was parked outside the building. surely he’s still in there!

you don’t know the directions at all, but it appears michael does.

he knows those halls like the back of his hands.

you’re lead up to the front desk where a lady is frantically tapping away at her keyboard. michael aggressively clears his throat to gain her attention to which she turns her head, tilts her glasses down her nose, and looks up at the two of you through her lashes.

“can i help you?” she looks both of you up and down, physically, there is nothing wrong with you. that leads her to assume that maybe you’re both signing into the mental health ward.

“sorry, we don’t deal with mental instability..” she goes to turn her head again, smacking her gum. but michael scoffs, tapping the computer harshly, “actually, miss know-it-all, we want to know if..” he trails off, looking at you. you shrug, unsure of what he’s getting at.

michael leans down and whispers in your ear and your lips make a ring. you whisper back.

his arms cross over his chest, “we want to know if quinn lawrence is currently on the clock?”

the receptionist raised her brow before sighing, “give me a second.” there’s aggressive clicking and tapping before she leans in, pushing her glasses back up, towards the screen and leans back again.

with a straight face, she tells the two of you that your father clocked out yesterday and hasn’t signed back in since.

you gave a tight-lipped smile while michael tuts, “thanks fo’ nothin’, pal!”

he storms out of the reception, causing a scene as he grumbles loudly about the service here while you shortly apologise and scurry after him.

you both walk in silence until michael suggests that he walks you home as it was hitting the twilight hour. anything could happen, michael dramatised. you still let him walk you home.

stood outside your house, michael watches as you jog up your porch after he gave you his number, telling you to call if anything happens. he witnesses you turn around and wave and naturally, he returns it before walking off.

once your front door is locked, you kick your boots off and call out for your dad once more. but you’re met with an empty house. you frown once more and sadly drag yourself upstairs and into your bedroom where you can cry to your hearts desire and mourn your missing father.

[callsign-magnolia]

I Hope You Dance // Ch. 37

MATURE CONTENT (18+)

A/N: This is cross posted to my Wattpad, so if this seems familiar that is why!

TW: Mental abuse, emotional abuse, slight physical abuse, death and loss.

Description: When Caila meets Rooster, sparks fly. But, she's already married, to a man who she thought loved her, and won't let her go. Rooster will fight for her, he just has to convince Caila to fight for herself.

Word Count: 7.4k

Chapter 36 | Masterlist

The day was long, but we got through it. Dinner was almost done so I was sat on the couch with Rooster, shivering. The temps had been dropping all day and the house was starting to get chilly. “Cold?” Bradley asked as I shivered next to him on the couch. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna go put some pants on.” I said as I started to get up, but he stopped me. “Stop.” He said, pulling my legs across his, his hands rested on my calves, rubbing them as he pulled down a blanket and draping it across us. “Thank you, Roo.” I said as I leaned up, placing a kiss to his cheek. I caught Uncle Josh’s glare but ignore it, opting to lean my head on Bradley’s shoulder.

I heard a clatter in the kitchen and looked to Rooster before sighing and getting up. “I better go make sure mom still has all her toes.” That made Rooster laugh and I leaned over the couch, kissing his head before making my way into the kitchen. “Tearing the house down?” she shook her head, setting a clean pan on the counter. “No, I just dropped a pot.” As soon as the words left her mouth, the power went out. “Shit!” She said as she rushed to the oven. “Stop! It has five minutes left. If we leave it closed, the heat will keep cooking it.” She nodded as Dad came into the kitchen. “Bradley and I are gonna go check the generator.” Mom nodded and I glared at Daddy. “No tricks. Not making him do stupid shit or pushing him in a snowbank, it’s too cold now.” He gave me a thumbs up, before turning around. Soon everyone else filed into the kitchen, asking how they can help. The kids were sent to wash up quickly and I went upstairs to go change from my skirt to some pants. I slipped into a pair of black and white plaid pants, tucking my seater into the front of them before going back downstairs.

“Caila, sweetie. Can you go upstairs and grab a bunch of candles from the hall closet?” I groaned, turning back around. “I just came from there!” She laughed at my complaint, knowing I was only joking as I went back upstairs. I pulled a bunch of unscented candles out, loading them into a tote bag I found as well and carrying them down into the living room where Hangman was setting the table. “Think this table is big enough?” I laughed as I started setting candles around the room. “I hope, or else there’ll be a problem.” Once I finished lighting them all, I also lit the fireplace that sat in the dining room. There were a set of doors on either side of the fireplace, and I closed one set, trying to keep the heat in. I looked at my phone and saw it said seven degrees outside and I shivered at the thought. “Jesus Christ. We all might be sleeping in the same room tonight if the temps keep dropping.” I muttered as I went back into the kitchen. “I think we should close both sets of doors to the living room to keep the heat in while we eat.” Mom nodded, putting the ham on a serving plate. “Sounds good. Why the hell hasn’t you father come back in? Or gotten the generator on?” After she said it, we heard the front door slam open.

We walked into the hallway and I gasped seeing Rooster and my dad covered in snow. “Oh my god.” I said as I helped Bradley slip his coat off. “Are you okay?” I asked as I hung his coat up. “Hold me.” He muttered as he shook. “Aw, honey.” I muttered as I pulled him into my arms, rubbing his back. “Here.” Laura said as she came over with blankets. “It’s like 1993 all over again, Gina.” My mom’s eyes widened in shock. “1993?” Laura asked. “Yeah, what happened in 1993?” Bradley asked. Mom and I led him and dad into the living room, sitting them down in front of the fireplace to warm up. “A freak snowstorm hit in 1993, in March. Caila was two at the time and Jameson was ten. It was quite scary because our power was out for days and it was freezing outside, I was worried it would never end.” Mom said as she rubbed my dad’s shoulders. “Speaking of power, where is ours?” Dad sighed. “The generator has no gas.” We nodded. “That’s okay. We can make it work.” Mom said. “I’m going to finish getting everything set. You two sit here and warm up.” They both nodded as I followed mom back to the kitchen to make sure everything was ready.

Soon it was time for us to eat and we all sat down, Bradley to my right and Rebecca to my left with Uncle Josh on her left at the head of the table, directly across from my dad. We dug in chatter filling the table, smiles all around. Bradley held my thigh and smiled at me, his large hand helping to keep me warm at the table. “Feeling warmer?” I asked as I leaned into him, making him chuckle. “Much warmer.” He said before kissing my head and I sat back up in my seat. “So, Bradley. What is it you do again?” Uncle Josh asked and I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m a naval aviator, sir.” He answered politely, but I could tell he was also bothered by Uncle Josh. “So, I assume you met my niece while on deployment?” Rooster nodded, taking another bite of food. “Yes, sir.” Josh stared at him, as if trying to read his mind. “Did you know she was married when you met her?”

“What are you insinuating, Josh?” Mom asked from across the table. I placed my arm on the back Bradley’s chair, my hand rubbing his shoulder as I watched him intensely. “I’m asking, because any respectable man wouldn’t chase after a married woman. Or vice versa.” I glared at him as he smirked at my mother over his wine glass. “Our relationship is none of your business.” I snapped as Bradley’s grip on my leg tightened. He just laughed, as if I had made the funniest joke of the night. I looked across to my parents who looked pissed. “If you came here to bring up old family drama, you’re more than welcome to leave.” There was venom in her voice, something I think I’ve only heard from my mother one other time. “I’m just saying, she cheated on her husband, just like mom did. Personally, I liked Aaron. He had drive, ambition and he was good for her.” I stood so fast, my chair flipped. “Get out.” I hissed as tears threatened to spill. “Ooh, always over emotional.” There was a bang from the other side of the table and I turned to see both of my parents standing. “She said leave, so get up and get out.”

He remained seated, smirking to himself, happy he was pulling these reactions from us. I moved around Rebecca who grabbed my hand as I passed. “Get up.” He just looked up at me with a raised brow as tears spilled down my cheeks. “Mags.” I looked at Rooster who looked uncomfortable at the distance between us. I turned back to Josh who grabbed his fork before I swatted it out of his hand, sending it flying across the dining room. “Some man you are.” At my words he stood, going toe to toe with me. Uncle Josh was tall and broad, but I knew I could still take him. Chairs scraped the hardwood as he stood, making him look around at everyone. “You’re still a little boy, upset that mommy found someone who loved her better than your dad-“ I was cut off as a yelp flew from my lips. I smacked the floor and my cheek stung. I leapt to my feet as Rooster grabbed him, holding his arms behind my back. “I say we throw him out Hard Deck style.” Jake suggested and I nodded. “Grab him.” Rooster took one arm as Jake took the other and Jameson and I grabbed his legs. “LET ME GO!” He yelled but we just carried him to the front door, mom opening both and we gave him a good swing before he landed ass first in the snow.

Mom launched his keys and coat at him, and I smirked. “Thanks for the gifts, don’t come back.” I said before slamming the doors and locking them. “REBECCA!” He yelled from outside, and immediately she came around the corner, coat in hand and her head hung low. “No.” I said as I pulled her into a hug. “I have to. I live with him, I can’t afford to live on my own on a teachers salary.” She said and mom took her from me. “We’ll take care of it, honey. Just stay.” With that she broke down in my mother’s arms. “I’m sorry we never noticed.” That made her fall apart and made more tears slip down my cheeks. “You okay?” Bradley asked and I shook my head, making a beeline for the downstairs bathroom. I tried to shut the door, but Bradley caught it with his foot. “Honey, just let me in. I don’t think you should be alone right now.” I sighed, opening the door. He came in, closing it and pulling me into his arms as we stood in the dark room. “I’m sorry.” I shook my head, looking up at him. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re not responsible for what he did.” He shook his head, leaning his forehead on mine. “I told you I wanted to be between you and anyone who wanted to hurt you, and I wasn’t.” I let out a teary giggle. “Roo, that argument was a long time coming. Did I expect him to smack me? No. But that was the last straw. He won’t be back, ever.” He licked his lips, pulling me into his chest again. “I will never, ever, let anyone put their hands on you again.

My mind immediately drifted to Buck and what happened on the ship, I should tell him. He deserves to know. I was torn from my thoughts by a knock on the door. Rooster opened it to see Jameson smirking on the other side. “Mom sent me to get you two before you defile the bathroom.” “JAMESON!” Laura yelled, making me laugh. “Let’s go finish dinner in peace.” J said, motioning us to follow. Rooster smiled, taking my hand, pulling me back into the warm dining room. He pulled out my seat before my dad stopped him. "Rooster, why don’t you sit on the end?” He asked and Rooster looked at me. I just smiled and nodded as he grabbed his plate and moved to the head of the table, Rebecca swapping with me so I could still sit next to him. “Better.” My dad said, smiling at Bradley. After that dinner was full of chatter and reminiscing over Christmas pasts and the embarrassing stories that came with them.

Once dinner was over and we cleaned up, we went back into the living room, blankets covering everyone as we opened more gifts. Rebecca got me a pair of Mary Janes with chunky heels. “Oh!” I squealed, holding them up. “I love them!” I truly was excited about them. Rooster leaned over, whispering in my ear. "I like them too." I smirked at him. “Oh yeah?” He nodded. We continued opening gifts. We got an air fryer, a robot vacuum, which I was very excited about. I was also gifted a recipe box, already filled with many family recipes and plenty of room for my own. Soon we were all sitting around, talking and laughing. “So, Caila. What was your favorite gift?” I smiled, looking up at Rooster. “I think it would have to be the wedding planner Mama bought us.” Mom looked very pleased with my answer while Becca pouted. “Don’t worry, those heels will get plenty of wear.” That lightened her mood a little. “So, do you guys have a date in mind?” I looked to Rooster, shrugging. “Not yet, but we both agreed we want a shorter engagement. I don’t want to wait two plus years before we get married.” Everyone nodded.

“It’ll be a while before we nail down specifics. I wish I could wait till Rooster comes home, but sadly, I think I may have to make some decisions while he’s gone.” He gave me a sad smile. “Do you have avenue in mind? If you do it in California, you can have a beach wedding.” My Uncle Adam, my mom’s youngest brother, asked. “No beach wedding. I am not dealing with the sand with my dress and shoes.” Bradley chuckled. “What? Do you want a beach wedding?” He shook his head. “Not if you don’t.” I glared at him. “This wedding isn’t only about me, it’s about us.” I said as I grabbed his hand. “You get to make decisions too.” He smiled, leaning down and kissing me just as his phone went off. He furrowed his brows, answering the call. “Hello? This is he. What? No, I have to be on that flight.” I furrowed my brows. “Okay, um, can someone call me if flights start going out again?” He nodded before saying goodbye and hanging up. “Because of the weather they’ve shut down the airport. I can’t leave until flights start back.” Mav turned to my dad. “Can you make a call? See if he can get an extra day?” Dad nodded, motioning my Mav to follow him to his office.

“Stupid snow.” I said as Bradley pulled me closer, kissing my head before I rested it on his shoulder. “Oh, you want me to leave?”  He joked and I shook my head. “No, I don’t. But I don’t want you to get in trouble either.” He chuckled, pulling me close. “Alright, no pouting. Time to do gingerbread houses.” Mom called and the kids cheered, rushing into the kitchen. Anita had a tight grip on Jake as she dragged him with her, making Rooster and I chuckle. “Come on. Let’s forget about me leaving for now and build a kick ass gingerbread house.” Bradley said as he stood, pulling me up with him. He pulled me into the kitchen where people were gathered around the island. Everyone teamed up as mom gave us everything we needed. “Okay, you’ll have thirty minutes to build your gingerbread house, and… go!”

We rushed to start and before we knew it, we were coming up on the end of the thirty minutes. “No! Put the gumdrop there!” Rooster hissed, trying to get me to move the gumdrop from the front of the tiny house to the roof. “It looks better down here! We put the M&M’s up there!” He huffed as mom called time. He crossed his arms, glaring at me and I glared back. “You think this will break the engagement?” Amber asked my mom, making her laugh. “Hey!” We both snapped, making them laugh harder. “Attention on deck!” Dad called, making Bradley, Jake and I stand at attention out of habit. “Not funny.” I muttered, as he inspected all of the houses. “The winner is… Amber and Matt.” Everyone cheered as I pouted. “We would’ve won if you put the gumdrops on top.” I looked to him, wide eyed. “Are we really about to fight over a gumdrop?” He nodded, leaning on the counter. “Yeah, we are. Because they make no sense sitting in front of the house. They go on top!” I just glared at him, grabbing the piece for the roof and smearing icing down his face.

Everyone gasped, making me smirk. “You did not.” He said, wiping icing from his face. “I did.” I said, making him glare at me. “Come here.” He reached out for me, but I stepped away. “No, I know what you’re doing.” I went to back away again until Laura shoved me into his arms. “NO!” I squealed as he rubbed his face on mine. “You jerk!” He just laughed, kissing me. Icing covered our faces, smearing as his nose brushed mine. We pulled away and he grinned at me. “You’re wrong but I love you.” I smiled at him. “I love you too.” Afterwards we went upstairs, washing our faces off and slipping back into the pajama pants and black t-shirts before going downstairs to watch a Christmas movie. “Which one did they pick?” I asked as Rooster and I walked into the living room. “The Santa Claus.” Mom said as she turned it on, handing me some hot chocolate for Rooster and I. We sat on the couch curling up as everyone sat around us, the kids all lying in the floor with pillows and blankets. It was still cold and the power hadn’t come back on yet so blankets, body heat and the fireplace was the only thing keeping us warm as the cold seeped in.

Halfway through the movie I drifted off, the food and hot chocolate making me sleepy as I fell asleep on Bradley’s shoulder. After a while I woke up, the movie was over, and everyone broke off to do their own things. I looked and didn’t see Rooster, so I got up, wrapping the blanket around my shoulders and walking off to find him. After a few minutes, I found him in my dad’s office looking stressed out as my father spoke on the phone. I quietly shut the door, walking over and sitting across his lap as he held me close. “Everything okay?” I whispered but he didn’t answer. Soon my dad hung up, sighing as he propped his head on his fist. “They won’t give you an extra day. They said you are to report to the airport as soon as it opens and get on the first flight.” He leaned his head back, sighing. I sat up, running my hands through his hair. “Hey.” His head turned to me, giving me the smallest smile. “It’ll be okay, honey.” He nodded, closing his eyes as I played with his hair some more. “Why don’t you two go to sleep. I’m sure Caila will wanna go to the airport with you, so if they call just wake one of us up and we’ll go with you.” We nodded, standing and walking back into the living room to say goodnight to everyone.

The kids were the most upset by the goodbyes, because they know when they wake up, it’s likely Rooster will be gone. “Auntie Mags.” I bent down so Anita could wrap her arms around me and I picked her up. “What is it, baby?” She leaned up, whispering in my ear. “I don’t want Mr. Rooster to go.” I chuckled, holding her closer as she laid her head on my chest. “I don’t want him to go either. But I know what’ll make you both feel better. Why don’t you give him a big hug?” She nodded and I turned to him. Anita clung to him while I took Levi, hanging him upside down behind me. He squealed as I carried him over to the couch. I dropped him before falling over on him and tickling him. “Auntie Mags! Stop!” I did and he stood, getting up and rushing to his mom. Anita smiled, nodding before going into Michael’s arms. I got up, walking over and wrapping my arms around him. “You seemed to make her happy.” He nodded. “I may have just secured us a flower girl.” I smiled, kissing his cheek. “I was gonna ask Kimberly anyway.” He nodded, looking down at me. “Let’s go to bed, pretty girl.” I nodded, telling my mom goodnight before we went upstairs.

I fully expected to be freezing when we walked in the room, but the fireplace was roaring and the dogs were curled up together in front of it. “When did that get started?” I asked as I pointed to the fireplace. “I started it while you were asleep so it would be warm in here.” I smiled at him, allowing him to pull me to the bed. We got in, curling up together and I rested my head on his chest. “I wish you didn’t have to go.” I said as he kissed my head. “I wish I didn’t have to either, honey.” We laid like that for awhile and soon we drifted off to sleep. It felt like seconds that I was asleep and I was awoken by movement next to me. “Roo?” I groaned, looking to see him looking at his phone and setting it down. “Hm? What is it, pretty girl?” He asked as he kissed my head. “Did you fall asleep? You need some rest.” He chuckled, one arm wrapping around my waist, the other holding my neck. “No, I keep checking my phone.” I sighed, looking up at him. “Why don’t you turn your volume up? That way you can sleep and wake up when they call.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to disturb you.” My eyebrows shot up, leaning away from him. “If you think you are leaving this bed or this house, you have another thing coming!” He chuckled, pulling me back to him by my hips.

I rolled us over till he was on his back, and I was straddling him. “I wouldn’t be able to roll over without you noticing.” He said as he smirked at me. “Damn straight.” I said with a smirk. “I hate that I won’t be there the first time you see the house.” His hand brushed my cheek, tucking some of my hair behind my ear. I nodded, running my hands along his chest. “I do too. But April will be here before you know it and we can christen every part of the house.” He smirked, pulling me into a kiss. It was deep and needy, knowing these were our last few hours together. His hands ran under the waistband of my pants, gripping my ass. I moaned as I felt him grow hard beneath me. Soon I pulled away, sitting up and pulling off my shirt and bra. He groaned, reaching up and cupping my breasts as I rolled my hips on his, grinding against his clothed cock. “Fuck, Mags.” I smirked, leaning into his hands that still held my breasts as I ran my hands under his shirt, him sitting up enough for me to pull it off.

I leaned close, kissing his neck as he maneuvered my hips, grinding his own into my clothed core. “If you want them off, take them off.” He quickly pushed my pants and underwear down, the cool air hitting my skin as I leaned back, letting him pull mine off before he shed his own. “Come on.” He muttered, ushering me closer. I straddled him again, his cock pressed between my folds, making me moan with every move I made. I leaned down, kissing his chest as I started grinding on him, craving the friction. “Honey, don’t tease. Please.” I hummed, sitting up and reaching behind me. I wrapped my hand around his cock, shifting till he was lined up. “Come on, pretty girl. Sit back.” I did, slowly pushing back and allowing him to slip in. “Roo.” I whispered as I leaned down, his lips capturing mine in a soft kiss. The sex was slow, sensual. My hips rocking back on his as his hands wandering my body. Gripping my breasts, then my hips before pulling me down into kisses. I couldn’t keep my own hands off him, they rested on his chest, scratching along his ribs. I kissed from his neck, down his chest and around his face. Soon he started thrusting up into me, pulling my hips down to meet his. “Roo.” I whined into his ear as I buried my face in his neck.

“You’re close, pretty girl. Hm? You like when I fuck you like this?” It was all I could do to nod, trying to keep my moans quiet as he thrust up into me. “Yes.” I quietly moaned in his ear, making him groan and speed up. “I’m so close.” I muttered, wrapping my arms under his and holding myself close as I bounced on his cock. Soon my orgasm washed over me, and I bit down on his shoulder to silence myself. “Oh fuck!” He yelled as his release hit him. “Fuck, Mags. You’re squeezing my cock. That’s it, take it all.” He babbled as tears streaked my face. I sat up, hovering over him as he smiled at me. “Don’t cry, Mags.” I shook my head, resting my forehead on his. “You’re leaving me, how could I not cry?” He chuckled, tilting his head up to kiss my lips before rolling me onto my side. “Stay here.” He said before getting up and going into the en suite to get a rag. Once he came back, he gently cleaned us up before crawling back into bed. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close before grabbing his phone, which I yanked from his hand and turned the volume up and put it on my side. “Go to sleep. You need it.” He groaned as I wrapped my arms around his waist and his went around my shoulders as our legs tangled together. I closed my eyes, worn out from our session and soon I drifted back off to sleep.

I woke up with a start when his phone rang, flipping over and grabbing it. Before I could answer he took it from me. “Hello?” He asked, sitting up quickly. “Yes, I can be there then. Thank you. Goodbye.” He hung up, turning and looking at me. “First plane I can catch takes off in two hours.” I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow. “Oh, honey.” He said as he rubbed my back. “I don’t want to leave either.” He kissed the back of my shoulder gently, I didn’t budge, hoping if I didn’t acknowledge him, he wouldn’t leave. “I think we have time for another round.” I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my throat at his words. “Come on. Let me worship you one more time.” I looked up at him, as he raised a brow. “Okay.” I whispered before he rolled over me, caging me between his arms. It was slow, sweet and full of love. But then, we had to get up. I helped him quickly pack before I went to wake up Jameson. I tried to wake my dad, but he wouldn’t budge so I opted to wake Jameson. He sleepily scrambled into the back of the Jeep while Rooster helped me into the passenger seat and he got into the driver’s seat. The snow had eased, making the driver a little easier. We sat in silence as I held Rooster’s hand in my lap. “I’m gonna miss you brother.” Jameson said, slapping his hand on Bradley’s shoulder as we got closer to the airport.

Bradley chuckled, looking at Jameson in the rearview. “I’m gonna miss you too, man.” It was quiet for a minute before Jameson spit out a blatant question. “Can I be your best man?” “Jameson!” I scolded, turning around in my seat to glare at him. Bradley just laughed as Jameson looked at me as if he did nothing wrong. “You don’t just ask that!” He held his hands up. “It’s just a question.” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “A question you have to be asked! You don’t ask the groom!” Bradley just watched us argue until we pulled up to the airport. “I’ll stay here. You go.” Jameson said as we stood outside of the jeep. I nodded as Rooster took my hand and pulled me inside. I held onto him tightly until we got to security. I stopped, knowing I couldn’t go with him. He turned to me, a few tears falling down his cheeks. “Okay. Just a warning, back home, the bed is so big and cold when your alone, but Dahlia helps. I haven’t hung up any pictures yet, I want you to do that.” I nodded, as he cradled my face. “You pick whatever you want for the wedding. Colors, venue, flowers, everything. If you want to get married the day I come home, we will.” I nodded, not able to really say any words. “I love you, Mags. More than anything.” He said as his forehead rested on mine.

He rubbed my ring, bringing up to his lips to kiss it. “I can’t wait to come home and make you Mrs. Bradshaw.” I giggled, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a kiss. “I love you too.” He smiled at me, holding me close. “I’ll fight to come home with you, I promise.” I nodded, kissing him one more time before he slowly pulled away, getting in line. I watched as he went through security, thinking back to the last time I watched him walk through an airport. It was almost the same, almost. “I LOVE YOU, MAGNOLIA!” I laughed loudly as tears flowed and he waved like a maniac. “I LOVE YOU TOO, ROOSTER!” He smiled at me before turning and walking to his gate. I stood there and cried for a minute before going back to the jeep. I got back into the passenger seat as Jameson drove me home. It was quiet, which I was grateful for. Once we got home, mom was in the kitchen making her morning coffee. “Come here, sweetie.” I rushed into her arms as I cried. She held me tightly, comforting me and reminding me this deployment wouldn’t last forever.

Hangman’s family left the day after Christmas, flying back to Texas and the following day, Hangman and I loaded down the airstream. “Be careful. Call me when you stop somewhere so I can keep track of y’all.” Mom said, pulling me into a hug. She let go and I walked over to my dad. “Thank you for bringing him here, daddy.” He smiled, pulling me into a hug, his large arms engulfing me. “I just wish he could’ve stayed.” I nodded, wiping my tears. “Me too, daddy.” He squeezed me, kissing my head. “I love you, punkin.” I grinned at the name. He hasn’t called me that since I was thirteen and asked him to stop because I thought it was embarrassing. Once he let go, I hugged Laura and Jameson before they handed me JJ. “Hey, little man.” I whispered as I cradled the bundled baby in my arms. “You’ve had an eventful first Christmas.” I took a few steps away from Laura and J, smiling at the little boy. “Your uncle Bradley seems quite fond of you. I’ll have to tell your mama and daddy to bring you out to visit us.” I turned, passing him off to Jake who was all smiles, holding his nephew.

I stood by the Jeep, petting the dogs until it was time to roll out. My dad walked over, a long case in his hands. “Here, I want you to take this.” I furrowed my brows in confusion. “What is it?” I asked, taking the case from him and laying it on the hood of the Jeep. I was shocked to see the rifle inside. “You want me to take granddaddy’s rifle?” I asked, propping one hand on my hip. “Yeah. I don’t need it and you’re out there in California, all alone. I just-I worry.” I knew he wouldn’t let me say no. He’d slip it in the back somewhere and I wouldn’t know till I got home. “Thank, daddy.” I said as I stepped forward to hug him. “You’re welcome.” He stepped back and we said our final goodbyes before I saw Hangman heading for the driver’s side. “Oh no, I start us off.” He held out his hands, ready to argue. “My Jeep, my airstream, and my dogs in the back. I drive. You can take over later.” He groaned, making my parents laugh as we got into our respective seats. We waved as I drove down the long driveway and soon, we were on the road. It was quiet for the most part, Jake and the dogs snoozing away as I drove us from Georgia all the way to Jackson, Mississippi. But there we stopped for food and to stretch before I let Jake take over. “I always knew you and Rooster would get married.” I chuckled, looking over at him. “Oh yeah?” He nodded. “It literally happened in a dream one night.” I laughed, chewing on my thumb. “When I had that manic episode and I finally slept, I had a dream.” “Yeah, that’s what happens when you sleep.” I reached over, smacking his chest. “Smartass.” I mumbled.

“Rooster was coming home from a deployment. We had a son, and I was pregnant with baby number two.” He smiled at me, looking back out to the road ahead. “We came home and Nicky, our son, stayed with Mav and when Rooster and I went to sleep, I dreamt I was back with Aaron. When I woke up, Mav had dropped off Nicky and Bradley put him in our bed before I actually woke up in real life.” He chuckled. “You two would make cute kids.” I smiled at the thought of little feet running around the house. It went quiet again and soon we were going over a mountain. “Watch your speed and stay in the far-left lane.” He raised a brow at me. “The left lane?” I nodded. “The runaway truck ramps are on the left side.” He seemed shocked when I said, ‘runaway truck ramp’. Once we started our downhill descent, it was smooth sailing, until I looked in the side mirror on my side. “Hey, Jake. Imma need you to step on it.” He scoffed, slapping his hands on the wheel. “You just told me to watch my speed.” I nodded, watching the mirror. “Yes, but now we have a runaway eighteen-wheeler behind us and he’s about to eat the ass end of my airstream! If we don’t step on it, he’s not gonna make this runaway ramp!” I watched as Jake stepped on the gas and the truck got closer, I squeezed my eyes shut until I looked, seeing the truck shoot up the ramp, coming to a sudden stop.

“Were you scared?” He laughed and I looked at him shocked. “Yes! I thought we were about to be in an accident!” He just laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Shut up.” I muttered, leaning my head back against the head rest. He turned on some music, listening as we rolled down the road until we swapped again. “I’m just saying, we can drive down to Austin. We’re going right through Dallas, and we can make a detour. We can stay with your parents, or they could even meet us for breakfast in the morning.” Jake “Finally!” I cheered, getting out of the Jeep, stretching. We worked to get the airstream ready, and Jake got in the shower while I heated up leftovers that my mom sent with us. “I swear, Christmas food is amazing the first few days.” I nodded in agreement as we stared at the movie on tv. “I can’t wait to get home.” I said as I finished my food. “All alone in that big house.” I nodded sadly. “It’s going to be a big adjustment.”

“You can always call Phoenix and I, or any one of us.” I smiled at him. “Thanks Jake.” I said before getting up. I dumped my plate in the sink before heading to the bathroom to shower. The hot water helped my muscles to relax after being cooped up in the car all day. Once I was done, I slid on a bra and one of Bradley’s shirts and some sweatpants. I towel dried my hair as I came out of the bathroom. “Mom and dad can’t meet us in the morning.” I nodded, seeing the sadness in his eyes. I ruffled his hair as I grabbed my hair dryer, taking it back into the bathroom and blow drying my hair. Once I was done I made up the couch, fully intending on sleeping on it so Jake could sleep in the bed. “Oh, thanks.” I raised a brow at him as I pulled down a thick blanket. “Why thanks?” I asked, laying the blanket out. “For making up the couch for me.” I shook my head, laughing. “No, I’m sleeping here.” He shook his head. “No, you’re taking the bed.” I just sighed, my hands slapping my sides. “I don’t even have the energy to argue.” I said before grabbing another blanket and taking it to the bed with me. I laid it out, inviting Dahlia into the bed and putting Sadie on the bed as well. I turned off the lights and made sure the temp was set to something comfortable before crawling into the bed with my dogs. “Goodnight Jake.” I said, as I rolled over. “Goodnight, Caila.”

The next day we woke up at four a.m., hitting the road by five. “If we keep this up, we’ll make it home by seven-thirty.” I said as Jake drove us down the interstate. “Hell yeah, we will!” He yelled, pumping his fist. Suddenly his phone rang over the speakers in the car. “It’s Phoenix.” He said before answering. “Hey baby.” He answered and we heard gasping. I looked to him, worried, Phoenix crying is never a good thing. “When are you coming home?” She whined. “We’re hoping to be home this evening. What’s up?” He asked and that’s when my face went red. She moaned loudly, making me cover my mouth. “I need you, baby.” I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me, making Jake’s face turn blood red. “Baby, you’re on the Bluetooth system.”

“JACOB THOMAS SERESIN! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!” I laughed louder, hardly able to catch my breath as Phoenix continued to yell at him. “How was I supposed to know?!” I was basically cackling in the passenger seat as they argued. “Shut up, Magnolia!” They both yelled and I struggled to cover my laughs. “I’ll see you when I get home, babe.” She agreed and they hung up.I didn’t say anything, knowing Jake would eventually. “We’ve never done that before.” His face was blood red, making me scoff. “You liar! You can’t sit here and tell me that you have never called her for phone sex.” He groaned, leaning his head back. “You can’t tell me you and Rooster haven’t! Y’all fuck like rabbits!” I thought about it, realizing we never had. “No, we’ve done a lot but not that.” He slapped his hands over his ears. “I did not need to know that!” “Grab the wheel Seresin!” He did, making me roll my eyes. “I need a fucking nap.” I said as I leaned the seat back, rolling over to face the door.

The home stretch is always the worst, the last thirty minutes. At this point I needed Jake out of my car, he was practically vibrating in his seat, singing along to the radio at the top of his lungs. “ANY MAN OF MIIIIII-“ “SHUT UP! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! STOP!” He looked at me, wide eyed and shocked. “What? You didn’t like my rendition of Regina’s song?” I rolled my eyes. “No. I just want to get home and relax!” He went quiet, looking out the window. He was quiet until the last ten minutes when we got off the freeway. Then he started humming. I let him carry on, hoping he’d stop but he didn’t. “Jake.” I hissed and he scoffed. “We’re almost there.” He said before humming some more. “Yeah and I will leave you on the side of the road and tell your girlfriend to come get you.” That’s when the arguing broke out. “I don’t know how Rooster puts up with you sometimes.”

“He doesn’t put up with me! He loves me and enjoys being with me!” He scoffed as we pulled up to Phoenix’s car in grocery store parking lot. “You sure about that? Maybe he just feels bad for you.” A look flashed across his face as he got out. I kicked the door open, following him. “Hold the fuck up, Seresin!” I said as I marched around the jeep as he opened the airstream door, grabbing his bag he set on the couch. “He does not feel bad for me! He does love me! He wouldn’t have proposed to me if he didn’t!” I said as I held up my hand, pointing to my ring. He pushed past me, ignoring me. Phoenix looked completely confused as I followed Jake. “You don’t get to say something like that and walk away from me!” He stepped past Phoenix, getting in the driver’s seat. “What the hell happened on that road trip?” She asked as I stood there. “We were fine up until the last half hour. I was just trying to get us home and he kept singing, then I yelled at him, then he started humming. He said that we were almost here and I threatened to leave him on the side of the road. Then we started arguing. He said he wasn’t sure how Rooster puts up with me.”

She sighed, hanging her head for a brief seconds. “Magnolia, I’m sorry.” I held my hand up, shaking my head. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She smiled, grabbing my hand and looking at the ring. “It was his mom’s, huh?” I nodded as she ran her thumb over it. “It’s gorgeous, and definitely you.” I nodded as tears gathered in my eyes. “I just wish he was home.” She pouted, pulling me into a hug. “I know. But he’ll be home soon.” I nodded, hugging her again. “Well, I’m exhausted. So, I’m gonna go home and relax.” She nodded, squeezing me one last time before I got in the jeep, taking the dogs and I home. It was a quick drive and I had to stop the tears from rolling as I pulled into the driveway. I got out, leaving the airstream hooked up and I got the dogs out. I ascended the stairs on the front porch slowly, looking up at the Navy colored door. I pulled out my key, slipping it into the lock and turning it. I pushed the door open, and the dogs rushed in. I looked up at the banister, seeing it was painted black, a stark contrast to the light grey walls. The cherry hardwood giving it a warm feel as the former red brick fireplace was painted white.

I saw a stack of picture frames by the fireplace, remembering how Rooster told me he wanted to put the pictures up. I pushed past the foyer, walking into the kitchen and seeing stark contrasts of blacks and whites. I shook my head, walking back outside to the airstream and grabbing my bag. I came back in, tossing all of my clothes into the washer before going upstairs and taking a shower. I kept my head down as I walked through the house. It felt wrong to be here without Bradley, it felt so empty. After taking my shower and devouring the pizza I got ready for bed that night. Once I finished, I pulled down the covers, slipping under them before looking over at Rooster’s spot. Tears flooded my eyes once more. My chest ached, feeling empty as I sat in the queen size bed in the large room. Dahlia jumped onto the bed lying next to me and resting her head in my lap. That made me sob, my body shaking as I leaned over on Dahlia, burying my face in her neck. “He should be here, Dahls.” I cried. I never thought I could miss a person so much. But without Bradley, I could practically feel my heart cracking down the middle.

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Taglist: @mak-32 @rosiahills22 @dhwanishah09

[trashbag-baby666]

Bighorn Mountainside-Luztoye

Chapter Two

Chapter Summary: George just moved to town and he isn’t pleased with up and leaving his home in Virginia. Soon he meets Babe and introduced to a new job.

WC: 2685

C/W: Brief mentions of animal cruelty.

Series Masterlist

George was far...so far from thrilled the moment his dads sat him down for dinner and dropped the big news.

George had been born and raised in Virginia his whole life. Well up until right he was 16, now it was the end of May. He stood in his room packing up the last of his things he'd need right up until the day they moved.

He can't believe they were leaving after the things they waited to pack till the last minute were in the UHAUL. His childhood home gone, the pictures on the white fireplace mantle gone. His height measurements on the doorway in the kitchen painted over as they had sold the house.

Every memory, erased.

Maybe that was a tad dramatic but George was feeling for himself and he was not pleased. He was digging himself into a self pity party hole. He had a cake and some balloons down there for his pity party. His dad, well the one he called mom. Carwood, got promoted down to be the head of the business in some place called Cody, Wyoming. As far as he knew the only Cody he knew was Cody from Sweet Life of Zack and Cody.

George looked up the place and this didn't look like the kind of place two gay dads should raise their gay son. It was a smaller town, very much smaller than Norfolk.

It sat right on the side of Bighorn mountain, the place looked like a set of a Wild West drama.

Cactus's, very much an orange/red Rocky feel to it, rodeos were a big deal there George noticed.

George's only knowledge of rodeos was well, none.

But now he found himself saying goodbye to his bedroom and carrying the box downstairs and out the front door where his dad loaded the remaining boxes in.

"Last one George?" The tall man with dark brown hair cut very military like leaned down grabbing the box from his kid. Ron Speirs, George's dad was very much a mysterious, almost scary guy to everyone but George and his mom.

He served in the airborne during the war in Iraq by the time he retired from the military he was a Lieutenant Colonel. Then went on to work FBI and other government spy jobs.

To George he was just the dad who knew too much and knew how to grill a mean steak.

"Yeah, thanks dad." George sighed looking down studying his black high top converse.

"Do you wanna go ask Ma if he needs some help with some kitchen stuff?" Speirs jumped down from the bed of the UHaul.

George nodded and walked back inside and into the kitchen.

Before he could ask, Carwood pointed to a box on the counter.

"Tell your father that these are the nice plates and cups and pack them accordingly." Carwood didn't miss a beat as he finished wrapping some cups with bubble wrap and putting them in a box. Obviously that was the last box.

"Sure, anything else Ma?" George grabbed the box holding it nice and with care.

"After I take this box out, run over to Ms. Gheels next door and get Petunia. Please." Carwood stood up following George outside.

"Sounds good." George handed the box to his dad and as he walked across the lawn to the neighbors to get Petunia.

Petunia was the beloved two year old pitbull they adopted. She was a three legged white and brown pit that Speirs found abandoned on the side of the road tied to a sign next to the interstate last year. She was badly injured, her right front leg completely torn up. She had injuries around her head, you could see her ribs, then where her paws were rubbed red from trying to get out of the rope. Whoever had her first obviously was the most diabolical piece of shit ever.

After Speirs earned her trust he helped her into his black SUV and drove her to the vet. Leading to her leg being amputated and something about her just hit Speirs hard.

He called Carwood and talked with him before they decided they'd adopt her.

George quickly became her best friend though, earning her trust the quickest, teaching her tricks, taking her out to run at parks. It was meant to be.

George wrapped his knuckles on the white door and waited. Then a bulkier built woman with light brown hair smiled opening the door.

"Hi Ms. Gheel. As long as George remembered Ms. Gheel was a close family friend, baby sat George after school when he was little, over every Sunday for dinner, she also earned Petunias trust as she would watch her while the family was at work/school.

"Well I'm going to miss Petunia." She squatted down as the pit ran over to her and love bombed her with kisses.

"She's gonna miss you as well. But we will write to you. Won't we Petunia." George smiled, grabbing her leash and harness from the table by the doorway.

"Yes, keep in touch you and your parents will be missed in the neighborhood. Now Petunia you stay a good girl and enjoy some new adventures." Ms. Gheel smiled down at the dog giving her some last pats.

George slipped her into her harness with a bit of a fight and clipped the leash on, "I'm sure the family moving in will be just as a delight." George gave the older women a hug.

"I know you're not excited to be moving but I'm sure it will be good for you. You got two years left of high school. You can see if there's any other colleges out there worth taking a look at. Don't give your dads too much of a hassle about moving and give them my best wishes." Ms. Gheel clapped George on the shoulder gently. George picked up the leash and offered one more smile.

"I will, well goodbye for now Ms. Gheel. I'll write when we get there!" George smiled as she held the door open for him and Petunia. He waved to her and walked back over to the driveway letting Petunia have one more chance to relieve herself before a two day car ride to Wyoming.

"Ready?" Carwood sighed, locking up the house and stowing away the final key to their house in a secret spot in the garden.

"I guess." George took one last look at the white house he grew up in, "Come on Petunia." George patted the back seat where he had set up a bed for Petunia.

She jumped up and George clipped her leash off, tossing it into the front seat. He then fed her a doggie CBD treat that would very much have her passed out. George started the car as Carwood and Speirs shared a kiss and an overall plan. They'd decided Speirs would drive the uhaul truck and Carwood and George would swap off driving the family SUV.

George got in the front and watched as the neighborhood he had known his whole life whizzed by. He probably would never see it again.

They arrived in Cody on June 1st, it was a warm morning as the summer really began. They drove through the town George noticing the downtown area. It was obviously set to have a Wild West nostalgic feel to it. Then they drove into the suburbs and pulled into the driveway.

A two leveled house, similar looking to the one back in Virginia. The siding a bright, baby blue, George opened the door grabbing Petunias leash.

"Come on girl we're at the new home," George sighed, clipping the leash onto her collar. Petunia jumped out immediately sniffing all over the green grass. There was an empty garden bed he knew his mom would have a crack at as soon as they were settled. Speirs got out of the uhaul and unlocked the front door.

"Should we go inside?" He asked opening the door. George and Carwood shrugged walking up the steps of the porch.

There was a nice mud room with a closet in it with some hooks on the wall.

Through the mudroom there was a big open living space with light grey walls. In the back of the living room there were a set of french doors leading out to an open deck with a pool. Then a big yard, perfect for Petunia.

"Is it fine if I let her out?" George unlocked the door, opening the doors.

"Yeah go ahead, she probably needs to wear some energy off." Carwood hummed as George let her off her leash as she began running around checking it all out.

"You can go check out your room, it's up the stairs and last door to the left." Speirs pointed towards the staircase. George nodded and went upstairs, he opened the door. The room was larger than the one he had in Norfolk, a big window looking out over the backyard. He could see Petunia running around and then into the neighbor's yard. A tall redhead bent over a lawn as a shorter dark haired boy came out holding a crate of flowers.

George sighed and opened the closet doors, a walk in?! He had a walk in closet! Rails around the walls for stuff to be hanged from. George started floor planning his room mentally.

About an hour later George found himself in the paint aisle with his dads at a Home Depot. George plucked a shades of blue card off the shelf and looked over it, picking out a light gray color. Similar to the one he had back home. He just wanted to be back home, he also picked out some curtain rods.

The next day George finished up his room, pressing his bed frame up against the wall by some windows. He had his mattress carried upstairs, set up his room.

A book shelf opposite of the bed, a desk next to it. He mounted his own tv to the wall. George was sometimes a bit of a handyman himself. Mounted his curtain rods, put up the baby pink curtains.

Finally, George went outside to get the box full of Petunias' stuff. He saw the same redhead boy with the same dark haired boy.

The redhead did a kickflip on his skateboard and skated back over to the other boy.

George didn't realize he was staring till the redhead waved and kicked his skateboard aside walking over.

"Hey!" he smiled looking down at George. George noticed how his hair was shiny in the light, a little shaggy, his face slim as his wide crooked smile spread across his face, a sprinkle of freckles over his nose.

"Hi, I'm George," he offered his hand to shake.

"Babe, Babe Heffron. Well my government name is Edward but only my Ma, the nuns, and my boyfriend call me that." He chuckled pointing back at the other boy as he walked over too.

"Nice to meet you," George smiled and the other boy shook George's hand.

"Eugene," he nodded, he had a thick southern accent. With big blue eyes and pale skin.

"What grade are you going into in the fall?" Babe perked up a bit trying to spark a conversation with George. Babe loved meeting new people and obviously this boy would need some friends.

"Uh 12th. I'll be a senior, my dads' enrolled me already at West Town High." George hummed, shifting his weight.

"Look at that Gene! We'll be seniors too this year! Are you looking for a little hustle? Where'd ya come from? Did ya work?" Babe bombarded him with questions.

"Oh, oh." George raised his eyebrows, "I came from Norfolk, Virginia. I worked at Starbucks, is there one in the area?"

"Oh god no," Babe laughed, "I work at a coffee shop or well it's a little cafe called Rosebud Cafe! We're hiring, you should come down with me tomorrow!"

"Edward, you're probably scaring this boy out of his britches." Gene rested his hand on Babe's arm.

"Oh wow," George was very much surprised by Babe's energy, "Here, Babe, do you wanna give me your phone number or instagram and we can keep in touch."

"Sure," Babe fished his phone from his pocket and pulled up his instagram handing George his phone.

George noticed that Babe's phone screen was very cracked and typed in his handle then followed himself before handing the phone back to Babe.

"I gotta go get my dog settled in. But maybe we could talk later tonight. Nice to meet you Gene and Babe." George grabbed Petunia's box again and the two boys waved as they walked back over to Babes house.

George set Petunia's dog bed down at the end of George's bed and sat on the ground as Petunia laid down on the bed.

"I made a new friend today," George gave her some pats as she looked over at him, "His name's Babe, he has a boyfriend named Eugene. He seems really cool, mans has lots of energy. Maybe he could show us some cool dog parks or places to walk." George smiled, giving her a kiss on the head and holding her close, "At least I have you princess."

The next day George followed Babe into the cafe. It was very rustic and had white Christmas lights lining the shop. Babe walked up to the counter and hit the little bell like three times.

"Heffron, the fuck?" a slim boy came out from the back with small gold hoops in his ears. Wearing a Motley Crue shirt and black cargo shorts.

"George this is Joe, well we call him Lieb, Lieb this is George. Is Nix here?" Babe leaned against the counter.

"Do you want something to drink?" Lieb looked at George.

"How's the coffee here?" George looked up at the menu boards.

"It's actually pretty good," Lieb hummed tapping on the ipad to put in an order.

"I'll take a caramel latte." George pulled out his wallet.

"Nah it's on the house I feel bad Babe dragged ya here." Lieb snickered, tapping away at it then getting to work.

"Lieb is kind of a dick but that's his branding kind of? He doesn't take shit from anyone." Babe sighed, "I'm gonna go run in the back and get my boss."

George nodded and watched Babe go behind the counter then through some double doors.

"Here," Lieb slid the coffee mug over to George.

"Thank you," George smiled, blowing on it.

"I'm not a dick, Babe just is a lot sometimes." Lieb smirked, "Also growing up a Jew in a small mountain town ain't easy." Lieb chewed on his lip.

"I can get it, I was a little nervous moving out here with gay dads." George took a sip, surprised how good his drink was.

"Here he is," Babe pointed at George as a man followed him out from the back. He had brown hair and a bit of a five o'clock shadow.

"Hi, are you George?" the man smiled, shaking his hand. George noticed the American traditional sleeve tattoo sneaking up his arm and into his t-shirt sleeve.

"In the flesh," George smiled.

"I'm Lewis Nixon, the owner of Rosebud. Lookin' for a job?" Nix asked.

"Yeah, I worked at Starbucks back in Virginia." George nodded.

"You know your way around an espresso machine?" Nix raised an eyebrow.

"Yep."

"Work well under pressure?"

"Yep."

"Memorize a menu?"

"You bet."

"Good, you're hired. Wanna start tomorrow?" Nix leaned on the bar top.

"Oh, sure. What's the pay? Uniform?" George asked. George hadn't even been here for a full two days and made two friends and had a job.

"$11 an hour plus you make tips, you can wear whatever you want no swear words on the shirt. But please wear closed toe shoes. I'm not tryna take any of you kids to the ER cause ya dropped a cup of jo on your feet." Nix looked at the three of them.

"Sounds good," George hummed.

Maybe things wouldn't be too bad here.

[lilapplesheadcannons]

Chapter 10: The stages of a failed break-up

Jiang Cheng was feeling irritated. Classes after lunch in this heat were a nightmare. Dust particles glistened in the sunlight in the stuffy classroom. He was feeling drowsy. Nie HuaiSang's lanky body was draped listlessly across the next desk. It never failed to amuse Jiang Cheng how Nie HuaiSang was catching up with his brother in height. He was still a beanpoll though. MingJue-ge could easily throw HuaiSang like a discus.

Clearly, not everyone minded the summer heat. Wei Wuxian reached across and poked Lan Wangji's cheek. Jiang Cheng groaned. That idiot is going to spend the period standing outside the class if teacher Lan catches him bothering his precious cabbage. Again!

Speaking of the devil. Lan Qiren walked through the doorway, glaring imperiously for the buzz of the students to settle down.

"A-Cheng!"

Jiang Cheng squawked in indignation. First of all, it was a family name. Nobody called him that except Jie and dad and Wei Wuxian. Secondly, it was obvious nepotism for that man to pick on him instead of Wei Wuxian just because Wei Wuxian was married to his nephew...Um, what?

Cool fingers touched Jiang Cheng's forehead. "A-Cheng!"

Jiang Cheng blinked in confusion. His bleary eyes took time to focus on-

"Dad! You're back!"

Jiang Fengmian smiled, "I am back!"

Jiang Cheng jumped up from the bed, "Why didn't you say you're coming back? I could have left."

Jiang Fengmian's smile dimmed. Then he beamed again, "Which would be a pity because you'd miss my ultra special pancake."

Jiang Cheng followed him to the kitchen.

"You are out of eggs, though. I finished the last one yesterday."

"Don't worry," Jiang Fengmian pointed at grocery bags on the floor, "I went shopping. You didn't finish the milk as well, did you? It was past its expiry date when I left."

"Why would you leave expired milk in the fridge?" Jiang Cheng grumbled. Then his brain caught up, "Hold on, how long have you been back?"

"Ages. I took a shower and then went shopping. You were sleeping like a log. Fine watchman you'd make! I could have stolen the bedcover from underneath you."

"Why would a burgler steal dirty bedcover?" Jiang Cheng sat on the counter, swinging his legs.

Jiang Fengmian shook his finger at him before going back to measuring his dry ingredients, "Don't underestimate the minds of petty criminals, young man."

Jiang Cheng snorted in laughter before rummaging through the grocery bags. He found a juice carton, still cold, and twisted the cap off. He half expected to be reproached as he took a sip, but Jiang Fengmian looked at him fondly before cracking two eggs and starting beating vigorously.

Jiang Cheng could feel the slight tingle the morning sun sent across his spine. Formica surfaces and chrome fixtures gleamed in sunlight. A bee had found her way through the open window and buzzed around sunflowers kept in a mug. Jiang Cheng could recognise the wonky mug and its misshapen handle. It was a gift he handmade for Father's Day as a teen. An ice-cream truck drove by outside playing Für Elise. The small kitchen smelled like butter. For the first time on many days, he felt happy.

He started humming an opening song to a children's cartoon he used to watch on weekends. Jiang Fengmian was expertly flipping pancakes into a neat stack.

"Did you finish my maple syrup as well?"

Jiang Cheng leapt off the counter to open the fridge and took out the half empty bottle. He washed some blueberries as well and carried them to the small dining table. Jiang Fengmian followed him with the pancake platter.

They ate quietly amongst clinks of cutlery, sipping directly from the juice carton.

"Aren't you tired, dad? You should go get some sleep. I can clean up here."

"Nah. I'll stay up all night if I sleep now. Why don't we make lunch together? Does beef stir fry sound good?"

Jiang Cheng nodded. Beef stir fry sounded great.

[randomly-a-fan]

Living a Life Without a Wife/Mom

A continuation to this previous story and that first story.

Jason and Malon have been trying to accept the fact that they have to deal with MJ not being home for two weeks. It’s hard to fully tell who misses MJ the most, Jason or Malon; all they know is that they both equally missed her non-the-less. Morning wasn’t too complicated for Jason, since Malon likes to sleep in, so it gave him the opportunity to go on his patrol around the camp. But today was very scary, because he came back and smelled some smoke. 

He rushed in and saw Malon trying to make pancakes for him and herself but failed. Jason aggressively dragged Malon out of the kitchen and took out the burnt pancakes and put them in the sink. The frying pan is now ruined, and it’s one of the best ones. Jason turned his head towards Malon while being unaware that he still had his hockey mask on. Malon stared with guilt and fear. “I was just trying to make breakfast for us...” Malon said innocently. Jason sighed before pointing towards her room, as it was his way of telling her to go to her room.  

Malon didn’t pout, she’s been through these rough routines before; she knew that whenever her mom isn’t here, her dad had to maneuver her to where ever she needed to be, even if it hurts. It took Jason about a half an hour to clean up the kitchen, and to make breakfast for Malon. Then he realize his mistake, he should not have left Malon alone while he’s on patrol; she might have woken up after he have left and that she have gotten hungry. She could of have cereal, until he remembered that they don’t have any milk. Jason massages his head to relax himself before going into Malon’s room to give her breakfast in bed, and to explain the things to her about kitchen-safety.

***

It was alright while it lasted, until Malon decided to play with Archie and Justin for a bit. Since MJ isn’t here to call Malon in for lunch or nap, it makes it harder for Jason to let his daughter know when it’s time to come back to the house. As Malon was playing hide’n seek with Justin and Archie, her dad found Malon before Justin the seeker had a chance to find her. “Dad, Justin hasn’t found me yet, just a few more minutes!” Malon said in a loud whisper. Jason didn’t want to wait, he just wanted to stay on schedule while his wife isn’t there. So he carried Malon back home without Justin knowing. Thankfully, Archie saw Jason taking Malon home; he recognizes Jason’s way of raising his child alone.

After Malon finished her lunch, she was going to go back outside to play. But Jason knew that it’s the time of hour for Malon to have an hour rest. “Dad! I’m eleven years old, I’m not a little kid anymore!” Malon snapped. Jason gave Malon a serious stare to set his point across. “Fine... I’ll go to my room...” Malon grumbled.

Malon didn’t want to take a nap, since she doesn’t feel at all tired. Just then, Archie and Justin came over to Malon’s bedroom window. “Hey guys... I’m sorry I left, my dad--” “Don’t worry about it, Archie told me that you have to go back home.” Justin informed. “We just came to see if you’re okay.” Archie added in. “I’m not okay... Dad has been too much of a parent figure; I’m sick of my dad always badgering me! I wish my mom was home...” Malon moaned. 

Without Malon realizing it, her dad heard everything from the other side of her bedroom door. He was going to give Malon some ice cream for her to cheer her up, until he heard her talking to her friends. Jason didn’t like the way he treated Malon, but if he couldn’t talk, how else could he set his point across? Jason can’t leave the ice cream not eaten, so he knocked on Malon’s door. 

Malon freaked out before she tells her friends to leave, then she closed her window and speed-walked towards her bed. “Come in!” Malon called out. Jason then walked in with a bowl of  sort-of melted ice cream. “You came in to give me ice cream? Okay...” Malon said without enthusiasm. Jason sighed before he kissed his daughter by the head. While he left Malon to eat her ice cream, he walked towards his room to lie down. Jason held his special teddy bear, with a family photo on its stomach that Malon bought for him for Christmas. He teared up after seeing MJ in the photo before he gave it a kiss. Jason then hugged it in a fetal position while thinking about MJ, and how he wished she was home.

To Be Continued

[proximusar]

Chapter 4

I watched James leave through the apartment gates from the first floor. I hadn’t forgotten about my impending visitor. I recalled his pasty, pale skin and the chic black suit he was wearing this morning. He carried a formal, almost mediaeval nature which couldn’t help but irritate me slightly. They were an enigma carrying a cane in their left hand and an aura of authority that belonged to them, but didn’t fit the character they were portraying.

I made my way down to my apartment room door and let myself in. The hollow lounge was the first to greet me, it occupied a two-piece couch set, a wall-mounted and a small coffee table. The kitchen stood behind it, cordoned by a serving bar and a washroom on either side. My eyes scanned around before I closed the door behind me.

Empty, good.

I was on edge. I had no clue as to who that man was or how he got in. I let myself slump into a dammed wave of exhaustion. A lot of things were weighing on my mind, but the sound of my body collapsing onto my bed’s sheets was enough to silence the thoughts. It was way too much to process and I found it easier to sleep than it was to approach the mess I made trying to think through the situation.

I propped myself up and took a moment to gain my bearings. I tried again to process the notion of the visitor before my mind was swiftly whisked away by something more concerning: the sounds and smells that wafted into the room to greet me.

Is someone cooking?

“Wait, then how do you know Alec?”

“I don’t. I was simply an acquaintance of his father and came to offer my condolences to the young master.”

“It’s a lil for that, mate. The guy’s been gone for years.”

“I am well aware. My situation has not exactly proved the best, finding this place has been quite difficult.”

I moved to join the conversation. “Well, isn’t it the man of the hour.” James said, noticing me lurking in the passageway.

“What are you doing here?” I stepped forward, into view of the suited man who was cooking whilst James laid reclined across the couch, “more importantly, what is he doing here?”

James righted himself and pointed to the serving bar where a paper bag was sitting. “I got home and I noticed that you had forgotten the snacks in my car, so I decided to come back and drop them off for you. When I got here I saw this guy waiting outside your door.”

“Right. I gave you my spare set of keys–” I wavered.

James sighed and turned his gaze back to me. “You can’t just fall asleep if you are expecting visitors. I shouldn’t need to tell you that that’s rude.”

“That was my bad.” “I invited him in and we chatted for a bit while we waited for you to wake up.”

My eyes swung back to the man who stood in front of the stove in the kitchen. He made his way past me carrying a plate and sat down in an armchair on the far side of the lounge.

He started. “It has been a while since I’ve had something to eat. Master James assured me it would be alright, and so I made myself at home.”

“It’s alright.” I resigned, “I think it’s better if we just get this over with, so I’m fine with whatever makes you most comfortable.”

“He told me he was an acquaintance of your dad,”  James started. “Is there some inheritance you didn’t know about?”

I shrugged. “I actually have no idea.”

“Your lineage is of great importance and there is much for you to claim,” the man commented, pulling a handkerchief out from a pocket and tucking it into his shirt.

“What’s so important about me, and what’s this inheritance?” I retorted.

“Both your purpose and your inheritance is tied to the book your father left you. That book is a complete record to everything there is to know in the multiverse.”

The room mulled over the conversation’s curiosities as I joined James next to the couch.

This was getting weird.

“Dean, right?” I prodded.

“That is correct.” He said.

“I need to know who you are before we can go any further.”

“I am Dean. An archmage with the inscribed glyph ‘D’, and butler to the House of ‘J’–a lineage of human archmages.”

“Archmages–” I pondered the word. Hearing that couldn’t be anything weirder than what I’ve already heard. “And what is your purpose?”

James walked to the kitchen and scratched at anything he could fix for himself.

“I am here to collect the heir and erase their existence from this world.”

“Erase my existence?”

“For the sake of this world, we cannot allow anyone to trace you back to here.”

James resumed his position on the couch with a plate of his own. “So, let me get this straight. You are from another world and have come to collect Alec, who is an archmage, so that he may–”

“Inherit my father's legacy.” I completed.

“Yeah. I don't buy it.”

“I agree, but I don’t think this is something you can ‘buy’,” I turned to question the man once more. “If I am as important as you say, how come you don’t simply kill me and take this book for yourself.”

“That is a long story. I will put it to you simply: I made a ‘deal’.”

“With whom?”

Dean placed his plate onto the coffee table. “Excuse me, I am unable to answer any more questions.”

“Then, I’m going to need some time.” I said.

“So will I,” Dean said, rising from his seat. “I require twenty-four hours for the ritual before we can leave.”

“I never said I was coming with you.” I snapped back at him.

“My apologies, young master, but this is not a decision to be made. I require twenty-four hours to erase any memory this world has of you and to reestablish its rerouting seal to protect it against anyone who would try to enter it.”

Dean rose from the armchair, “let us get started. Rise.”

James and I followed the instruction. Amidst an air of bewilderment that hung in the air, Dean snapped and the furniture was removed from the room. Digging into his pocket, he then proceeded to pull out two sharp, white stones.

“Ritual of Oil: Erasure,” the words resonated as he tossed the stones to the living room floor.

[foolishaetherguardian]

Been frustrated with my brain gremlin hoarding my writing recently so I’ve decided to force myself to share what I have for an epilogue for a character in a D&D campaign that recently came to a close.

Old Man Spahn

Haru was sitting in his study on the second floor making a small bauble for Demitrian to hold onto when he heard the silent alarm go off. He let it go for a few minutes until the second alarm began to ring in his head before dismissing them and floating down to the first floor. He walked to the kitchen and began to make two cups of coffee. He carried them one at a time to the small coffee nook that was nestled in the wall of the living room and sat down. The obsidian of his cane shone slightly in the morning sunlight so he shifted it to his other side. Haru then pulled out a small print copy of Navati’s book and began to read. After a few minutes he heard the click of the door and the third silent alarm went off. He dismissed it immediately. The door opened slowly, with a 20 something slipping in. Haru sat still, only half reading as they began to look around the room. When they saw him he noticed them relax slightly. “Ah good morning. I didn’t realize it was that late already, come here and sit. I’ve got your coffee ready.” Haru said as he gestured towards the chair across from him. The magic took hold easily enough. As the would be robber sat down Haru smiled sweetly at them and continued speaking. “So I’ve really been enjoying this latest chapter. Navati is so good at capturing the emotion of those days. Have you had time to read it?” The robber looked at him confused.“Ah of course not, I'm sure you’re so busy these days. Lots of work left to do.” Haru said as he stirred in his milk and sugar. “Sugar?”

The question seemed to remind the robber what they were here for and they stood up and pulled a gun, one of the magic crystal ones that V had helped develop years ago. “I’m not here to chat or drink coffee.”

Haru just nodded as they spoke before replying. “You know those things are quite dangerous. You should just put it down and drink some coffee. It’s really very good today.”Again the magic took root and the robber nodded and sat down placing the crystal revolver on the table as they did. They sighed and drank a few sips of coffee before their eyes rolled back slightly and they fell face first onto the table. Haru shook his head sadly and gathered up the revolver and a photo of the robber and floated up the stairs to add them to his slowly growing collection. Axel found his father dragging an unconscious body out of the front door when he came home from school that day.

“Umm… dad, who is that?”

Haru looked up and laughed like he wasn’t dragging an unconscious person across the threshold, “Oh just another coffee guest. Would you mind helping your old man out? This is a bit hard on my back.”

Axel set down his bag with a sigh and took over the dragging as Haru stepped inside to grab one of his signs. “So what do we tell mom this time?”

When his dad stepped back outside with the sign and his cane the answer was simple, “What’s there to tell them?”

Axel shook his head and finished getting the “coffee guest” fully outside. As soon as he had managed it Haru nodded and asked a familiarly strange question. “Are there any events today?”

He thought for a moment before answering, “I hear Navati has a charity concert tomorrow so there’s a lot of people around Griff’s Park.”

 Haru nodded and suddenly the three of them were just outside of the venue. “Ah this brings me back. You know it was after one of these that…”

A horrified Axel quickly shut that story down as he recognized it. “Yes. I know… and I wish I didn’t.”

His father laughed and leaned down to the coffee guest. After a slightly harder than necessary pat on the cheek they say up confused. “What where…”He smiled at them before handing them the sign. “You should hold this for a few hours showing it to whoever passes you. It’ll help you feel better.”

Axel facepalmed as the coffee guest took the sign that read “I tried to steal from Old Man Spahn and got caught.”

“Really dad?”

 “What? It’s true.”

Axel shook his head slowly as Haru teleported them both back home. As they stepped inside Olive was on the phone. A shared glance and Axel quickly dashed up the stairs shouting something about having a project to work on.

Haru closed the front door and began to slowly make his way to the kitchen, halfway hoping his slow speed would somehow hide him.

“So I was talking to Navati and apparently there’s someone standing outside her venue with a very interesting sign.”Haru knew he was caught as soon as they started speaking.

 “Really? What did it say?”

Olive tried to hide a smile by turning away from him to look out the window. “‘I tried to steal from Old Man Spahn and got caught’. Do you have any idea why they’re so adamant they need to stay there holding that sign for a few hours?”

“I don’t recall anyone trying to steal from  us. I did have a very interesting guest for coffee today though.” Haru answered with a slight smile.

 “What’s that make it this year? Seven?”

“Nine. I think.”

“You should have called Philia.”

“Probably.”

[ladysmeg13]

               Why I got kicked out of the house for 3 weeks.

  The year 1977 and school just ended out of the school year I have been in the office or in trouble almost everyday except for 8 weeks added together. So looking for summer and being out of school made my year because I had finished all my groundings, stay before and after school and any other punishments for the year.

   I should have known it wasn't going to Last. The saturday started like every other day mom in the kitchen making breakfast, a cool breeze blowing through the windows and dad laughing at a comic he just read. After finishing breakfast I grab my roller skates, skateboard, tennis shoes, money and a snack. Heading up the street to the park and the phillip 66 station to the cigarette machine for a pack of camels. Walking to the park to roller skate in the shelter house.

    A couple of hours later off to the school to skateboard around and up and down all the ramps. While there my younger brother showed up so we hang out and stayed a little longer. Then headed to the post office and the shuffleboard court great for skateboarding on. Taking a break to eat are snacks and wait for the bank to close so we wouldn't have to watch out for cars because it hurts to get hit. After an hour and half everyone had cleared off leaving the whole place to ourselves including a very smooth parking lot.

     While I been skateboarding around the bank Travis started to skip rocks across the parking lot until one hit and broke the back door window of the bank. Setting off the silent alarm bringing the local cop to check it out. Being questioned by the cop I said I broke the door window and not my brother. For 2 days we were questioned and I still said the same thing I did it.

   Then it's my parents turn to hand out the punishment. Travis got kicked out for 3 day and he stayed at Terry's a friend and neighbor that lived 2 houses up the street. Me I got kicked out of the house for 3 weeks with no one to stay with. So I got an hour to get what I needed before I had to leave. I hadn't unpacked my backpack yet so I got enough food that I could carry, money and anything else I would need then I started to leave. On the kitchen table I left a letter letting my parents know I will be OK and telling them it was Travis that broke the window not me. I took the blame because it's my job to protect my brother.

   With my backpack and skateboard I headed up the street to the park first I stop and bought some hotdogs, buns ,marshmallows, chips and pop. Next stop phillip 66 station for 4 packs of camels then over to the park. Picking up enough sticks and wood to make a fire in the grills there to cook supper. I stayed at the park sleeping in the shelter house up over the restrooms so no one would see me for no more then 3 nights. Making a list of all the places I could camp at and how many days I could stay at each place without being seen. And I didn't want to explain why I was out here.

    Heading to the next place Roadman's park outside of town. I put of my tent making sure I camouflage it so it wouldn't be seen. Then I dug a hole found rock to line the hole and gathered fire wood. Grabbing my fishing gear I went to catch lunch after an hour of no luck I came back and started the fire boiled water eating 2 mug-a-lunches. Went swimming for a little while looking around to see if I could find anything to eat. Came back to camp for supper a can  of pork and beans, banana and a mountain dew. Sitting be the fire I roasted a few marshmallows and listened to my radio. Making sure the fire was out before I went to bed. Had to move to a new location the 3 days I stayed there.

     Next place another park at the other side of town. Stopping at the school to take a shower while it's open for practice and picking up something to eat for breakfast. By the time I got to the other side of town because I had to go the long way around other wise I walked by the house it's afternoon. First locate a spot out of the way next put up tent and camouflage then dig a hole, rocks and gather wood for fire took a lunch break. Walked to see if the raspberries were ready to be picked  along with an apple tree so I could have some fruit to eat.

      Each wooded area or park I stayed at for 3 or 4 days making sure I moved the camp and not to be seen by anyone. Going back to the shelter house a couple of times give me a chance to clean up and look or find supplies I would need along with a better place to sleep.

     There isn't much to do but think why I got here and all the stupid things I did that year. While making camp I decided that I better make a change in my life and school. How do I make a change I will need help with this !

        By the end of 3 1/2 weeks I been ready to come home so I started home and get there around 3:35 pm. As soon as I walked into the house mom and dad both gave me a big hug letting me know that they loved me. After taking a shower that seemed like it lasted forever mom cooked my favorites lasagna, cornbread and fresh strawberries with cream for supper. Sleeping in my own bed on clean sheets and out of the rain just what I needed.

     The next morning everything is back to normal for the rest of the summer. I was even glad when school started in august and everyday I got better at school with less times getting into trouble.

[gapsbetweenlovers]

the way to his heart: part two

— part three

——

The evening sky gradually cloaks Chicago in a vivid hue of ripe persimmons. Dapples of sunlight dance across the uniform houses, their roofs splashed with hazy, golden rays. A breeze swirls throughout the local park and elementary school, stirring mini tornadoes of fallen leaves that skim along the tree-shaded sidewalks. The neighborhood campfires crackle with embers, sending ash and smoke toward the clouds above. It's a wistful ambience that settles into the bones of autumn dearest.

As the temperature dips into the lower fifties, the birthday celebration comes to a close. People slowly but surely leave with tinfoil-covered leftovers and sleepy children in their arms. Crepe-paper streamers and remnants of a demolished rainbow piñata are scattered on the lawn. An abundance of tissue paper and gift wrap is crumpled in a gigantic trash bag, along with disposable plates and utensils smeared with buttercream frosting. The bounce house is deflating under the setting sun, abused and glistening with moisture.

You've been carrying handfuls of decorations into the house for the past ten minutes, each time scanning the emptying kitchen for Carmen. Throughout the party, you had watched him duck in and out of the connected garage to grab food or catering supplies (which were actually moments cleverly disguised as smoke breaks), before returning to his makeshift station and serving the guests with his admirable competence.

It's not unusual for him to vanish from a situation; he's the textbook definition of the Irish Goodbye. Yet a disturbing sense of concern gnaws away at your heart. He’s brawling with demons hidden from you and everyone else, and you fear the day he spins out of control before heading straight into an deep hole.

You desperately want to fix him but getting scorched in the process is inexorable. If you trigger the tripwire, everything will misfire.

"Dad, have you seen Carmen anywhere?"

Your dad is hunched over the sink washing dishes, the faucet running so hot that steam rises toward the ceiling. The clanking of cookware, along with the dim lighting in the kitchen, puts you at ease as you check your phone while waiting for an answer. You find no messages from Carmen. The last text he sent was a week ago when he asked you about catering details. If you were to scroll further back to older texts, that's where it reaches dangerous territory. Sporadic Love you's and miss you's, too precious to be deleted. Frequent working late's and don't wait up for me's. And, your weakness, risqué send me something’s.

"Can't say that I have, kiddo," says your dad while scrubbing a pan with a tattered sponge. "He better not have left, though, because my chip dip needs some pointers. Only half of it went!"

Damn. You twist your lips nervously and begin to aimlessly check every room in the house — bathroom, living room, bedroom, even the basement. He's nowhere to be found.

Eventually, you venture outside and head toward the front of the house, where a scarce number of vehicles are still parked in the driveway and along the winding suburban road. The sounds of barking dogs and gossiping neighbors flutter around you, as does a subtle autumn chill that pokes and prickles your cheeks.

There's a familiar vehicle you easily spot, Carmen’s rusting vintage Honda Civic that you've seen him drive seldomly. Even though you aren't in a relationship with him anymore, you always offer to drive him to work, but he insists on walking through the bustling downtown streets of Chicago, where honking and rumbling engines are the city's alarm clock. You like to imagine an alternate universe where you walk alongside him as the sunrise paints the sky with shades of burnt oranges and romantic pinks. Holding hands, feeling the cold sweat of them, then kissing him goodbye before going your separate ways.

It's a life you missed out on, but you've accepted the reality that fate is beyond human reach. It's also bullshit.

From your distance across the road, you see Carmen through the translucent driver's-side window. His forehead is slumped against the steering wheel, the denim baseball cap on his head tilted wonkily, and his left hand rubs just below his collarbones. If he weren’t moving, you'd think he was dead. A lit cigarette droops from his lips, the smoldering end burning the leather material of the wheel. You sigh, equal parts relieved and trepidatious, then walk closer while tugging your cardigan tighter around your figure.

Raising your dry, reddened knuckles up to the glass, you knock twice. Carmen reacts by sucking in a lungful of air and jerking his head toward you, his eyes a particularly devastating shade of turquoise. He blinks a few times before manually rolling the screechy window down all while coughing up the smoke caught in his throat.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," you say, noticing his shaky hands when he plucks the cigarette from between his teeth and stamps it out on the dashboard. It's riddled with dozens of other dark, circular marks, and the entire car reeks of ashes and a trace of his treasured cologne. You notice leftover sandwiches wrapped and messily piled in the backseat.

It's all him, and it consumes you to the hilt.

"Sorry," Carmen replies hoarsely, taking his hat off. "Just can't really breathe right now."

"And you thought the best solution was to cloud your lungs with poisonous chemicals? With the windows closed?" you remark, trying to sound as gentle as possible. His detrimental coping mechanism is going to be the death of you. Probably him, too, in a more literal sense. God, that's morbid.

He grimaces and tilts his head back against the headrest. "I gotta go home. I gotta— I'm sorry for ditching the whole scene, but my chest started aching and I got overwhelmed."

You nod hastily, eyebrows slanted with concern. "It's okay. Hey, let me drive you to your apartment. You need a break."

"Nah, I'll be fine."

"Actually, that's the wrong answer." You open the car door and nudge his jean-clad thigh with your fist. "Scoot over. I'm driving."

Carmen, your stubborn sweetheart, stares directly at you until it becomes quite intimidating. "No," he says firmly. "How are you gonna get back?"

"The bus or whatever. Doesn't matter. Move."

"No."

"Um, yes."

"Stop worrying about me so much. I'll survive."

You touch his taut shoulder with calm reassurance and whisper, "Carmy. Please?"

The nickname used to work like a charm, and you're hoping there's a part of him that still weakens when you say it. A part that will still accept your tender loving care. Unhurriedly, he maneuvers his body over to the passenger seat. You climb in behind the wheel and regard the anxious, melancholy state of him with his wild, lion-like hair and fidgeting movements. The rigidity of his muscles is upsetting — if only he had the means to see a chiropractor. No, scratch that. A therapist could work wonders.

Leaning over the half-open console that's littered with empty cigarette packs and gum wrappers, you use your hand to rub Carmen's back. The curvature of his spine and the tight knots you feel beg for a deep tissue massage, but for now, you just soothingly knead his sore muscles in an intimate silence, hoping you're nourishing the roots of his pain, even if it's only physical.

Camren's throat bobs from a thick swallow. As his bloodshot eyes flutter shut, delicate lashes sweeping downward, you caress the hardened groove of his bicep and position your forehead onto his own. His skin is sickly warm. Breathing uneven. Heart heavy — so heavy that you can almost feel the wrenching weight. The cross he bears is nailed to his back.

"Breathe."

He listens and blows out slow, steady breaths. The slope of your nose fits under the arch of his, and your lips twitch into a smile when the pungent cigarette smoke invades your senses. Memories fly past in your brain, snapshots of tobacco kisses and wandering hands. Squeezes, nips, groans. New York thrills. Love on autopilot. Everything fast. Speeding, burning, plummeting until the inevitable crash.

Time taken for granted is a cruel thief.

"There you go," you murmur encouragingly, lips barely brushing his own. "Focus internally. Nothing outside matters right now. Just your breathing."

His body relaxes with each exhale. He's winding down, and when his eyes open again, they're spacey and locked onto your hand still resting on his bicep, your fingers splayed over his 7 7 3 tattoo.

"Feeling better?" you ask.

Carmen rolls his neck, the harmless crack making you wince. "Thank you... for that. I'm good now."

"Good." The key is already dangling from the ignition, so you turn it, the engine sputtering to life and then lowly purring. "I'm taking you somewhere. Hope you don't mind."

——

Oak Street Beach is nearly deserted at dusk.

Skyscrapers glimmer in the distance, the indigo sky reflecting off their pristine glass windows. The blur of headlights flash past with the comedown of rush hour. Ring-billed gulls screech by the Lake Michigan shoreline while devouring discarded food. Waves lap the trodden sand, washing away stranger's footsteps.

Even though the water is far too frigid to comfortably wade in this time of year, the unparalleled thing about beaches is that they are beautiful enough to simply look at.

You fall into step with Carmen at a leisurely pace, the wind whispering through your hair. Goosebumps rise over your arms and cause you to shiver, your sundress doing little to ward off the brisk weather — it probably dropped twenty degrees since noon. Nonetheless, fall is in the air, and the lush elm trees that stretch along the roadside strip of lawn are changing from their natural green to an elegant golden-yellow. They color the city, bright and bountiful.

As you plant your feet close to the shore, a warmth envelops you from behind. Turning your head, you find Carmen draping his wool jacket over your shoulders. The raw fabric instantly heats your skin, and when you put your arms through the sleeves, they sag past your fingertips. You smile softly and gaze at the water again.

Carmen stands beside you, his hands stuffed in his pockets, staring ahead with an expression of mystery. You never can tell what he's thinking about. He's a wall with chips and cracks only you can loosely decipher. For all you know, the current blankness on his face could be contentment.

"I know you like it here," you say while creating a miniature crater in the sand with the tip of your shoe.

"It's the only place where I can catch my breath," he replies, adjusting the bill of his hat.

When his brother unexpectedly died, Carmen migrated back to Chicago from New York with you trailing behind. You remember it in painful, jagged bits and pieces. There was a three-day gloom that smothered Chicago. The Beef, once alive with passion, was abandoned. A funeral with dazed humans. Carmen, guilt-ridden and irrevocably crushed. Wounded and detached. Your bleeding boy.

"Can I tell you something?" he asks, deep in thought.

You sink down onto the ground, knees bent, and Carmen does the same. Resting your cheek on your outstretched arm, you say, "Mm-hmm. Go ahead."

He sniffles, his nose slightly red from the cold, and picks at his nails. "I, um— I've been thinking about going to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Sugar has been pushing me to go for ages, and I always resisted. But now, I don't know, maybe it'll help me sort some things out. It might help me unpack my grief since I don't know what the fuck I'm feeling half the time."

Your heartbeat scampers momentarily. The word seeps into your mind and expands like ink on wet paper. Alcoholic. You think back and try to recall any warning signs. Yes, he drank and smoked in your presence, but it never reached an alarming state until everything hit. Maybe you were too blind to it and became used to the cigarettes and liquor bottles. You grieved, too. Mikey was so easy to love, and then he was suddenly gone. Drowning in distractions was the only way to steer off the course of misery. Man, it's all a blur.

One clear memory is the sad, pathetic breakup during the aftermath. Side by side on the bed, eleven p.m., no more than a few sentences spoken to each other that entire day, two hemorrhaged hearts begging to heal. When the ache grew too much to bear, you suggested time apart, and Carmen agreed at once like he was waiting for you to drop the bomb first.

And now here you both are, souls having found each other again, bruised and bandaged but on the mend despite every arrow in the flesh.

You don't even realize a single tear has escaped until your voice comes out shaky when you say, "That makes me so happy. Thank you for telling me."

He scratches his forehead with his thumb, almost seeming embarrassed by his brave and self-serving choice. "Nothing to cry over. I'm only really doing it to get my sister off my back."

"Don't say that. You're doing it because you love her. She worries about you just as much as I do — definitely more."

Carmen's lips slant with a slight smile as his eyes shift over to you. There's a rare, lovely glint in them, like when someone splits open a precious gemstone. "It's honestly a close call," he says, quietly laughing to himself.

You wipe away the wetness under your eyes using your sleeve — Carmen's sleeve, rather. The brief and familiar whiff of him you get from the fabric makes you want to cry even more. "I'm serious," you tell him. "She’s lost one brother already. It would be devastating if she lost you too."

Sometimes broaching is the only way to get him to open up. A gentle pry can lead to a glimpse inside.

"I know, I know. Can we talk about something else?"

You place your cheek on his sturdy shoulder and breathe in serenely. "Like what, Carmy?"

He's silent for a bit, nothing but the sound of waves weakly lapping the shore before he speaks again. "Don't laugh, but would you wanna come with me to the meeting?" His face twitches with a tiny wince. "Or, I guess, could you? Please?"

Laughing doesn't even cross your mind. "For moral support?" you clarify.

"Sure, yeah. Only because the thought of going by myself and sitting in a cramped room with a bunch of fucking strangers makes me nauseous." He exhales heavily. "If I had a face I knew, it would help a lot."

"Why not your sister?"

Carmen shrugs indifferently. "She's busy all the time. And talking about serious shit in front of a sibling is humiliating."

"Heard," you reply. He smirks at that. "So... you want me to go instead? May I ask why?"

He doesn't ask much of you — never has. He’s a giver by nature, and yet he doesn't believe what he gives has value.

"You're one of the only good things I have left," he admits, picking at the frayed denim of his jeans. "My brother is gone, and my job stresses me out ninety percent of the time. I don't talk to my mom or stepdad. There's Richie, but he's dealing with his own shit."

"I understand," you say. “I'll go with you. I'm glad you recognized your issues and took a big step into fixing them."

"I don't think it's possible to fix a basket case."

You study the horizon as well as his words, the sky darkening any last sight of sunlight. The air is fresh in your lungs, the sand soft beneath your palms. If you could freeze time, it'd be during this very moment. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists.

"You're not a basket case. You’re trying your best. Life is painfully long and burdensome, yet we all try our best for the sake of merely surviving. And that's something to be proud of, as depressing as it sounds."

Carmen slides a hand down his face before stretching his arm out. "C'mere," he murmurs softly.

You happily fall into his secure embrace, letting him hold you like old times. Snuggling close, you say, "Love you. You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know."

The love never left, truth be told. In fact, it swelled significantly with time apart. You're not one for clichés, but absence really does make the heart grow fonder. The both of you are pure, solid proof.

"I do know." He chastely kisses your temple, hovering his mouth there. "And I do love you. More than you know because I never tell you enough. I never tell anyone anything enough."

"You should work on that."

"Yeah, I should."

You turn your head to look at him, admiring his sincere and thoughtful expression that looks back at you. In your field of vision, you're close enough to count his scattered beauty marks. Trace his sculpted jawline. Memorize his boyish lips. Further down, feel the ridges and veins of his neck. Touch the scars and burns and rough callouses on his hand. He's exquisitely flawed, but that's the lure of loving someone like him so fiercely.

There's longing in his eyes when your gaze travels upwards again. So close. So familiar. If you move another inch, it'll be a cliff dive into a sea of bad decisions.

"I should drive you home now," you say above a whisper.

Carmen wets his lips, clears his throat, then strikes down your cowardliness with a confident question.

"What's the other option?"

——