#he also never left our small college town

[sneaking-out-late]

The guy I had a crush on in college just proposed to hit girlfriend in CROCS

[luxurychristmaspudding]

Pickup Truck

summary: frankie hates your boyfriend. in fact, everybody does. but he’s willing to give him a chance. you’re his best friend, after all. until frankie discovers something he can never forgive.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+. MDNI. this fic contains allusions to, but no descriptions of, domestic abuse. please do not proceed if you know this will upset you.

frankie's pov. no lady and no baby for our boy. drinking, violence (against pos bf), angst, lots of hurt, allusions to dv. comfort, fluff. frankie to the rescue. unprotected p in v (wrap it irl!). oral, f receiving. creampie. bad spanish (again). kings of leon references. happy ending, of course.

wc: 9.8k

an: whew, this was an emotional one to write. but i hope a good love comes to all of you in time, no matter where you are at the moment. and if you already have it, may it always keep you safe. lovely divider from @saradika.

Frankie really doesn’t like your boyfriend.

Scratch that. Nobody does.

Nobody really knows where you found him, either. A sweet, smart girl like you, moved back to your small town from your big city life, and it looks like you picked up the very first guy who sidled up to you in a grimy bar.

Which, if you’re really honest, is exactly what happened. Because he was nice at first. Real nice. He was charming and sweet and interested - he bought you drinks all night and didn’t push to come in when he walked you home. You went for dinner a few times, and sure, he could be a little rude to the waitstaff, but it was only because he was so focused on you. He bought you flowers and took you for rides, and sure, sometimes he’d come home far too drunk after seeing his friends and get a little too close, a little too loud, but he always apologised.

And sure, he sometimes made you cry, but he always made it up to you. Sweet promises, small gifts. And he'd never laid a finger on you.

Not until last week, anyway.

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know who to turn to. The thought of it makes you so sick you have to lock yourself in the bathroom at work. How did this happen? How did it turn so sour?

And how do you get out?

Walk you home to see

Where you're livin' around

And I know this place

Frankie walks you home from the bonfire. He always does.

It’s his favourite moment of the night.

He gets to have you all to himself. Gets to watch your cheeks cool in the night air, watch as the blush from the heat of the fire subsides. Your giddy, wide eyes, your tipsy babbling about stories which had been swapped over the flames, picking out particularly scandalous details for you two to giggle about before doubling over into breathless laughter over something Benny had said. 

He likes to hold your elbow, your hand, as you catch him in your amusement, gripping onto his bicep. He loves to lose himself in this little pocket of time with you.

He loves the sparkle of the stars, the glow of the streetlights as they light your features.

Frankie loves you.

And he’s so glad you’ve moved back from your life in the big city to come and be around your real friends again. So glad that you’ve all found your way back to each other. Tonight has left him with such a mellow tingle in his bones that he finds he can’t stop smiling at you, looking at you, on your walk home.

Bonfire nights have always been your monthly hangout, a time when you can be sure you’ll get the whole gang together. There used to be more of you through highschool, and still a fair few during college. It dipped when the boys joined the forces, when people moved further east and further north. But eventually Frankie, Benny, Santi, and Will had come back. Jessa, your other best friend, had returned too. A few others coming and going - Lily, Marcus, Maggie - also back and forth from their new homes to their old ones. And then eventually folk had just… settled. 

Frankie felt like he was one of the last, like he was maybe the one finding it the hardest, retired to a life of civvy duties. Unable to hold down a girlfriend, struggling to stick at a job, sofa surfing around friends’ places. He was still flying whenever he could, but then this coke allegation happened, and it was like the world was finally swept from under him. 

You were the first person he had called, the first person to talk him down from his panic, that debilitating squeeze around his heart when he thought about the future. The first person who made him feel like it would be okay.

So of course his joy when you had come back had been immeasurable. Maybe this time, he’d thought.

And then you’d met Tanner.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as you drag your hand out of his, skipping a little further up the dark street until you reach a corner. Frankie watches as you spin on the spot in the quiet neighbourhood, gesturing down the pathway before you. 

‘This is me.’ You say.

But you don’t turn to keep walking. You watch him, a small, excited smile on your lips. Like you’re waiting for him to work it out. 

Frankie drags his eyes from you, away from thoughts of your new boyfriend, to look up and down the street you’ve led him to, and for a second he is pulled beneath the ebbing flow of memory, towed with the riptide of things forgotten. 

This is his grandmother’s street. Was his grandmother’s street.

The cracked concrete, the peeling paint of the porches. The weeds, the flowers, the smell.

He breathes your name like you’re the only thing tethering him to the now.

Breathes your name through the bright, sunny flashes of his childhood. His mama bringing him here with his brother, his papa swinging him by his legs in the flower-riddled front garden. Cartoons in the ripe heat of the afternoons, him and his cousins stuffing their faces with Guagitas and Frugele until they’d made themselves sick while the younger siblings napped in the sunbeams of the bedroom next door. Cycling over on his bike after school to sit at her kitchen table to do his homework, letting her fuss over him - his height, his friends, his grades, girls -

A skinnier, younger Frankie stopping by his abuela’s house with you to pick up her up for his nineteenth birthday party, along with her homemade tamales, her chiles rellenos, and specially made pumpkin sopaipillas for later on. The way you had chatted to her, natural, easy going, how you had made her laugh, her eyes sparkle. How, when you had taken some of the plates to the car, his abuela had pinched his cheek. I like her, she’d said, Será tuya algún día, mm, mijo? And Frankie had flushed bright red, batting her arms away as she chuckled at him. He had hidden in the back bedroom when you came in from outside, and listened a little longer to your conversation as he waited for the heat of his face to die down. When he reemerged, you had helped his grandmother into her shoes, her cardigan, and kept ahold of her arm until she got into Frankie’s beat up old car. At the end of the night, his abuela had kissed both your cheeks several times, rocked you back and forth in a hug, and clapped her hands as she said how she looked forward to seeing you again.

When you came home from college every summer, you’d have tea with her in her garden. She always asked Frankie about you, about how you are doing. When he told her you were coming home, she’d been so excited. Quizás este sea el momento? She’d said to him, squeezing his hand. He’d smiled, his heart quietly full of hope. Tal vez, abuela, he’d said.

When he called you two weeks later, his voice weak from crying, to tell you that she’d passed, you had been heartbroken. And it seemed like her wish, the red thread she’d seen between the two of you, had been snipped, too.

Pour yourself on me

And you know I'm the one

That you won't forget

Frankie likes to listen to you talk, because he’s never much been one for talking. 

He supposes you just bring it out of him, though. Because here on this street, in the moonlight, he tells you more about his grandmother. You spend hours walking up and down the pavement as he recounts every story he can remember; him and his brother, his parents, aunts and uncles, cousins. Birthdays, weddings, funerals. The street comes alive with the ghosts of people, the spectres of feelings. You and Frankie talk of growing up. Of falling in love. Of each other. 

Your small, well-loved house is half way down the street, four up from his abuela’s. It does something strange to his heart to have two of his favourite people, who loved each other in their own ways, so close but so far away. 

Your fingers hold his wrist as he shows you a scar on his palm from eating shit on his bike when he was eight, and when he looks up, your eyes are shining under the streetlights. There is a glint of moon in your teeth, and a shocking want so clear on your face, but when he meets your eye there is suddenly hesitation, a realisation, a shuttering. Frankie stops his story. There is a moment, and then it slips away like sand.

You shiver, chilled all of a sudden, and wrap your arms around yourself. Frankie tries not to look too hard at the goose bumps blossoming on your bare skin, tries to fight off the urge to kiss the little raises until you’re warm again under his touch.

‘Cold?’ he asks, and you smile back up at him. God, his heart.

‘As a hole,’ you giggle, and he feels himself smile goofily back at you. ‘We gotta warm up.’ You say, and then freeze.

It takes Frankie a little while longer to hear the inadvertent invitation in your words.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

You both stand on the porch, frozen, like some great frost has swept over the land. If Frankie squints, he can imagine the glitter of your eyeshadow, now fallen, dusted on your cheeks, is a collective of tiny constellations of ice. 

Your body is wracked with a shiver again, but when Frankie looks you in the eye, you’re burning up from the inside. He swallows.

If he could only make the steps towards you. If he could only will his heavy feet to move, if he could summon his nerves to do exactly what his brain says, he would already be in front of you. He would have your face in his hands, be able to look into your eyes to see that deep, hidden want again, and kiss you. Again and again and again, and he wouldn’t stop, because things like that shitty boyfriend of yours wouldn’t matter anymore.

No. The whole world would be glitter and stars and constellations of ice crystals.

And then you blink, smile softly, and wish him a goodnight.

When he can finally lift his foot to move, your door is already closed.

And in your denim eyes

I see that something's awry

And I see you’re weak

You don’t see Frankie for a while after that, always finding a way to brush off his attempts to hang out. 

At first he doesn’t worry too much about it. You’ve just moved back - you have a new job, a new place, new friends to get to know. Tanner. 

Frankie finds other things to do. He gets business cards made up for the flying school he’ll be setting up next month. He pilots people across the state, sometimes across the country. He sees the boys for drinks, even sees Jessa for a coffee. He starts to worry when they say their texts have gone mostly unanswered, and they haven’t seen you either.

It must be why he turns up on your front step one day, a six pack in hand. 

You open the door on the second ring of the doorbell, and Frankie finds himself rendered speechless. You look… different.

Tired and wary, a little thinner. And when he gets you chatting, you say you haven’t really been anywhere, done anything. You’ve been settling in, getting used to it. You have two beers each, but you seem on edge, like you’re waiting for a knock on the door. And then Frankie asks about Tanner, and your eyes linger on the entryway a little longer.

‘Yeah,’ you say, ‘He’s okay.’

Frankie’s jaw twitches, his stomach clenching uncomfortably.

‘Just okay?’ He asks. 

Because you should be excited. You should be gushing and giddy and falling in love. But you’re not.

‘Yeah,’ you shrug. ‘He’s good.’

There’s something in your eyes. Something which shrinks away, skitters back. Something drained, something sapped of life, of energy. Hurt, maybe. Fear, perhaps.

When Frankie thinks back now, he knows he should have pressed you harder. Maybe should have taken you to his, made you talk a little more for a little longer. Away from Tanner, the threat of his presence. But he didn’t. He didn’t.

And he hates himself for it.

When he comes around

I see you're fixin' to shine

And my face won't speak

When Frankie next sees you, you’ve had a hair cut, and there are deep, dark bags under your eyes. Both of these things worry him equally. 

Your beautiful hair that you’d been growing out since you were young, hair that you swore you’d never cut shorter than it was in seventh grade, when your mum had to chop it into a bob after you got gum caught in it. And here it is now, much shorter. 

Jessa says she likes it, and you give her a watery smile, a weak thank you. She asks where you had it done, when. She asks if you like it, and you shrug. You say you’re trying something new. You say Tanner likes it.

Over your shoulder, Frankie exchanges a look with Santi.

You’re quiet the whole time you're at the bar. Far too quiet, so far from the bubbly conversation you usually hold, your loud cackle, your bent-double amusement. Your affection for your friends - the hands on knees, arms around shoulders, kisses pressed to cheeks. It’s hardly there. 

Frankie offers to walk you home, but you wave him off kindly. Tanner’s picking me up, you say, he’s probably outside. Jessa frowns at you.

‘Are you sure, babe?’ She says. ‘It’s not even late yet.’

You smile and nod at her, gather your stuff to go. Jessa catches your arm.

‘We’re still on to go shopping Saturday, though - right?’ 

You smile at her, the first warm one you’ve mustered all night.

‘Of course,’ you say, ‘I’m looking forward to it.’ 

When you stand to leave, you hug everybody goodbye. Tightly, for longer than usual. Frankie doesn’t give you an option when he walks you out to Tanner’s car. The smug prick is hanging out the driver’s seat window. He watches Frankie as you walk up, hostile, threatening, arrogant, and somehow still ridiculous. And, Frankie thinks cruelly - ugly.

Frankie pulls you into his arms a few steps away from your boyfriend. He kisses your hair, and you sigh.

‘Have a good time on Saturday,’ he says softly. You twitch a smile at him. 

‘Thank you, Frankie.’ You say before stepping back and walking to open the passenger door. As you climb in, Tanner winks at him. 

‘Gettin’ a new one tomorrow,’ he says, stupid fucking grin on his face. ‘New car. Exciting stuff. Anyway, better get this one back,’ he says, squeezing your knee a little too hard. You don’t look at Frankie, something like humiliation colouring your cheeks. ‘See you around, Frank.’ Tanner says.

Frankie steps back from the car as it glides forwards, and he watches it disappear up the street. 

Deep anger burns in him. And a kind of fear. It crawls over his skin, cooling the sides of his neck. His heart churns uncomfortably in his chest.

He tells your friends about it when he returns to the table. And they form a plan. Jessa texts you a time she’ll pick you up on Saturday. You say you’re excited again, you need some new clothes.

But Frankie knows Jessa won’t take you shopping. 

No, she brings you here, to the beach, to the bonfire. To him, to Santi and Benny and Will. Because they’re worried.

So worried, they tell you.

They sit you down in one of the chairs around the fire, and they explain why they’re worried. They tell you they love you - so much - and they just need to know if you’re okay. Because they can help. They want to help, want you out of this, because he’s not good for you. The silence, the hair, the clothes you were going to buy. They tell you they hate the way he doesn’t let you speak, how he speaks to you. And you are so quiet through all of it, Frankie begins to get more worried. He speaks to you gently over the fire, but you can’t meet his eye. He tells you his worries, their love for you again. He swallows down his own confession, anything to make you see. How they don’t want you pushed closer to him, want you to be pulled closer to them instead.

But your eyes are so vacant, so far away, that Jessa leaves her deckchair next to you to sit on the burned up log closer to you on your other side. She takes your hands, and you finally, finally look at her. You open your mouth, and you say so quietly -

‘You’re right. You’re right.’ 

It feels like the biggest gulp of oxygen Frankie has ever taken. He feels lightheaded from the relief, from the knowledge. They were right, they were right, which is a terrible, terrible thing.

Will clears his throat, and Frankie looks at him to see similar thoughts flicking over his face like film reel. He licks his lips, opens his mouth, and -

Hate to be so emotional

I didn't aim to get physical

But when he pulled in and revved it up

I said, ‘You call that a pickup truck?’

And in the moonlight I throwed him down

Kickin', screamin' and rollin' around

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

Whatever Will is about to say is cut short by the sweep of headlights over the brush near the dunes. 

A beat up old pickup truck bumps up the track and pulls up alongside Will’s Ranger. The driver’s side window slides down, and Tanner’s face emerges from the gloom. He revs the engine loudly, making you and Jessa jump. A sick feeling curls in Frankie’s stomach as he watches him, this piece of shit who’s been so busy crushing you down. 

Tanner leaps out of the truck, and slams the door. Frankie looks over at you, visibly panicked on the other side of the fire. How the fuck did he find you?

‘Hey baby,’ Tanner says, sickly sweet as he strolls towards you, ducking to press a kiss to your unresponsive mouth. He turns to the rest of the group, eyes skating over Will and Ben until they land on Frankie. Tanner steps towards him, offers his hand.

‘Good to see you again, Frank,’ he says, ‘Told you I’d be getting a new ride.’ 

Frankie stares at his hand. He takes a deep swig of his beer, breathing deeply before looking Tanner in the eye, refusing to shake it.

‘I’m surprised to see you.’ He says to the dirty-haired man.

Tanner tries his best to appear unfazed, but there’s a glimmer of something hot behind his eyes.

‘’Course man, wanted to show off the new pickup.’ He says, grinning broadly. He looks around again, eyes falling hungrily on Jessa. She shifts uncomfortably on the log, rearranging her body so there’s less for him to look at. A deep heat begins to rise in Frankie’s chest.

He glances again at the ancient car that Tanner’s driven up in. The front bumper almost hanging off, the red paint aged and scratched, bumps caved in all up the sides, the roof sagging. 

‘You call that a pickup truck?’ Frankie says lightly. Tanner narrows his eyes at him, angry, before he catches the sound of Santi’s laugh.

He whirls around to the other man and spits -

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Frankie almost laughs, too. Almost.

Pope spreads his hands. He looks up at him through his brows, a glint in his eyes that Frankie is violently familiar with. You must notice it, too, because you clear your throat and say -

‘Santi’s one of my friends.’

Tanner doesn’t even look at you. Just keeps staring at Pope. 

The moment seems to last an eternity. Frankie feels like he’s watching everything through sludge, like he’s in someone else’s dream. His whole body is on edge, vibrating, ready to lunge - he’s just not sure at who. He looks between the two men before he catches your eye through the flames. The adrenaline in Frankie’s heart gutters at the look of panic in your eyes.

Please don’t let them do this. Please help me stop it.

Frankie glances back to Pope, and says, so softly only he can hear it -

‘Pope.’ 

And Santi immediately looks away, taking a swig of his beer.

Tanner stands there still, clearly baffled at Santi’s sudden lack of interest. Then he turns to the rest of the group like a petulant child, a toddler who has been ostensibly robbed of its favourite toy.

‘It’s a good truck,’ he says, before turning to you. ‘Ain’t it, baby?’

You hum your agreement as Tanner scoops a beer from the pile by Will’s chair, shucking off the top with his teeth. Jessa looks away, disgusted. He settles himself in the deckchair at your side.

‘Y’aint allowed to touch it, of course, sugar,’ he says to you, before laughing into his bottle. ‘Ruin everything you come into, anyway. Root of all my problems, ain’t ya?’ Tanner takes a pull of his beer. The group is silent around him. Around you. Tanner notices.

‘Boy, fun bunch you are.’ 

You look at him through your eyelashes.

‘Baby, that’s enough.’ You say as softly as possible, and Frankie cringes at the pet name. 

Tanner looks at you sharply. Dark, furious. It’s in the pinch of his jaw, the anger at what you’ve said so obviously rolling around in his skull.

Frankie hates him for it. And he hates that he hates him for it. There are already so many things he hates him for, but he’s so fucking stupid it’s almost funny. Not your equal in any way. In kindness, in conversation or in intellect. And not even willing to try. To learn. For you. Just trying to dumb you down instead, squash you into smaller, more digestible bites to chew on. 

When it comes down to it, Tanner has nothing smart to say back. He just pushes a short breath from his nostrils and mutters out a little -

‘Well, well, well.’

Then he flexes his fingers against the chair, and you flinch. 

You flinch hard, your brows coming together, chin scrunching, waiting for the blow to land. And when it doesn’t, your eyes flicker open slowly. Hollow, bereft, drained and dim. 

Tanner hasn’t noticed, but everyone else has.

The awful unveiling of your last secret.

Frankie forces the bile down his throat. His head swings forward to the ground of its own accord, a faint, resonant ringing in his ears. When he looks at his hands, they aren’t his own. In fact, he recognises no part of his body as the ringing gets louder, as he gently places his beer bottle on the floor. When his eyes leave the dirt, the mix of faces around the fire are all mirror reflections of each other. Horror, disgust, grief. Grief that this is what you hid from them, this is what they have taken too long to pull you from. The burning building splintering around you, your shell of a body immovable in the middle. 

You won’t meet his eye. You won’t meet anyone’s eye as your hand shakes around your bottle. Jessa notices. She stares at your trembling fingers for too long, but she can hardly say anything. None of them can. Her eyes shine like beacons from her seat, wet with tears. Frankie sees her bottom lip quiver, her chin dimple. And then she swallows, swallows again, and reaches for your hand.

You flinch again, softer this time, and Frankie is sure everyone around the fire - everyone in the town, the world, must hear his heart crack. Because he feels it so keenly, so deeply, that it takes the air from his lungs. His breath is caught in his throat, and no matter how hard he tries to draw it, it seems impossible to claw it down. He’s drowning. He’s drowning right here in front of everybody, and it makes it all the worse to know that this is how you must feel. Every damn day.

Come on, he hears Jessa say, Let’s go and get another drink. And through the dark swirling of his mind he watches the two of you stand slowly and disappear towards the back of Frankie’s truck. He waits until Jessa has you hidden from view, her arms around your hunched back as you bring your hands to your face - crying - and that’s when the thread snaps.

Frankie gets to his feet, slowly.

Pope and Will watch him. Benny is still staring at Tanner.

Tanner looks up at him, chin jutted out, smirking as Frankie approaches. 

He’s challenging him. He’s waiting for a war of words, for the shouting to begin, for the insults, the observations to fly.

He expected the wrong war from a soldier.

The first punch sprawls him out of his seat. It makes a satisfying cracking sound, and the first trickle of blood starts to bleed from behind his lip.

Then Frankie kicks him. He kicks him hard in the ribs, making sure he doesn’t have enough time to recover from the punch to deflect Frankie’s boot. 

Tanner clutches at his abdomen, wheezing, gazing up at Frankie with bewildered eyes. Fucking coward.

Frankie grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulls him upwards. He has nothing to say to him, but the fury he feels, this deep, endless, swirling pit of rage, he lets him see. He lets it fill him from the soles of his feet all the way up through his eyes, and he lets it bleed out. He lets the blackness flood the ground. He lets Tanner watch it, lets it petrify him, and then Frankie swings again. Tanner takes it on his chin this time, his jaw snapping closed, and when it goes lax, a couple jagged bits of tooth fall out. Frankie grunts in satisfaction and swings again, again, until blood spouts from Tanner’s eyebrow and his cheek begins to bruise and swell. Frankie breathes deeply, in rhythm, doesn’t even feel it when Tanner manages to land a lucky punch to his eye socket. He plants a knee into the other man’s crotch, lands him an elbow to the back of his head when he keels over, and then shoves him to the ground. Frankie gets on the floor with him, raining blows down on Tanner’s body, his face. He’s methodical about it, a punch to each eye, the crack of the cunt’s nose, one to either side of his mouth, then bloodying up his jaw. He’s aware, somewhere, that Tanner is screaming. Strangled, gargling sounds trying to claw up his throat. And then he’s aware of two pairs of hands around each armpit, dragging him away, pulling him up. Will is saying something in his ear, that’s enough, Frankie, alright now, and Benny is speaking, too, panicked - you’ll kill him, Fish, come on man.

Frankie blinks, really looks at Tanner where he lays bleeding on the dirt. His eyes already swelling, a couple more teeth scattered on the ground next to him. His face different shades of red and purple, a mess of a man, and Frankie is pleased. He could keep going. He wants to see him bleed much, much more. Will and Benny keep their grip on him.

‘Leave,’ Frankie growls, low, without a quiver in his voice. ‘And don’t you ever come back. You ever look at her again, I’ll gouge out your fuckin’ eyes. You ever touch her again, I’ll break every bone in your body. I’ll make sure they don’t find anything left of you.’

Tanner doesn’t say anything, which must be the only smart thing he’s ever done in his life. But he still doesn’t move.

The four men watch him for a moment, the silence heavy, broken only by the crackle of wood and Tanner’s heavy, wet breaths.

Then Benny lets Frankie go, steps forward and picks the man up by his collar, swinging him around to the direction of his truck. He throws him down on the dirt.

‘Move,’ he spits. ‘Get out of here. And if you have the courage on the way, wrap your fucking truck around a telephone pole.’

Tanner finally has the good sense to crawl over to the vehicle. He hauls himself up the scarred body work before creaking open the driver’s door and slipping inside. The truck sputters to life, yellow bulbs flooding the bonfire site again before it quickly backs away, turns, and drives off. Frankie watches its blinking red brake lights until he’s sure the cunt is gone, and then he turns around.

You’re stood with Santi’s arms wrapped around you, back from the fire where Tanner’s blood is drying. Pope strokes your hair, squeezes you tightly as your body shudders. And Frankie can only stare. 

Minutes might have passed. Hours. And Frankie is terrified. Terrified that he’s scared you, broken you, pushed you away. And then you turn your face on Pope’s chest, moving your head from shoulder to shoulder, and you’re looking at him. Eyes red-rimmed and raw, face flushed and damp, and it’s like Frankie’s trance breaks.

Frightened, he takes a step forward. He breathes your name.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you shake your head. Fuck. What has he done? What has he allowed himself to do? ‘I’m sorry, querida, please - I know, I know -’ but what does he know? He looks to Santi, pleading for help, and the man offers him a small smile as you step out of his arms. 

Through a fog, you come towards him. Your chin wobbles. Your eyes swim. You’re a little wide-eyed, a little shocked. And something else, something beyond his reach. 

You get to him, and your arms make their silken way around his middle as you begin to cry. Hot tears stain the front of his shirt, and he cradles you to him, holding your skull gently, enveloping your abdomen. A loud sob looses from your ribs.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ You wrap your arms around him tighter, press your nose into his sternum.

‘I’m not scared of you, Frankie,’ you sob into his chest. He clutches at the back of your head, holds you even closer, strokes your hair. When you speak again your voice is higher, strained with your tears. ‘I could never be scared of you.’

The sting in Frankie’s throat becomes hot, burning. He doesn’t know whether to pull you impossibly closer or to push you away, to run as far as he can from your broken, heaving body in his arms. Because what he’s done should scare you. It should. He’d lost all control. The only thing he’d been able to see, to feel was his all-consuming, depthless fury. And Tanner’s face as it splintered, bloodied, swelled. And he’d wanted to keep going, until there was just pulp. No nerve endings, no teeth, no eyes, no mouth, no body that he could ever hurt you with again. He doesn’t want you to hurt any more.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers into your hair.

Trembling misery

And as cold as a hole

I hug your bones and skin

Frankie holds your hand the whole way home, the drive passing in a dazed silence.

You still don’t talk when you get to his place, when he unlocks the door, lets you in, and locks it behind him. You take his hand in the quiet cool of the house, lead him upstairs. He follows, slowly, sore, exhausted. Trying to process it all.

When you reach the landing, you turn on the bathroom light, and he trails behind you. He stands propped against the sink as you dig around in his medicine cabinet, finding wipes and bandages and anything else you think might be useful. You take Frankie’s hand again, examine his bruised, bleeding and swollen knuckles with solemn eyes. You are so gentle, twisting his hand in the light, inspecting. You look over it for a while, and Frankie watches you. When you reach for an antiseptic wipe, your hand is shaking.

Frankie winces silently when you start to dab at the blood on his knuckles, cleaning it away with minute swipes. You chase the dried rivulets of blood down his fingers, over his palm. The scar there from when he ate shit riding his bike.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. You ignore him, breathing shallowly as you inspect his hand, holding his wrist, cleaning blood which is no longer there.

‘Might be a hairline fracture or two,’ you say, distant. ‘I won’t bandage it, gonna let it dry out first. But you’ll need to rest it. And we’ll need to ice your eye.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, into your hair. You shake your head, and the light catches the different colours in every strand. Frankie’s throat tightens.

‘Please stop apologising.’ You whisper.

A shaky breath pushes itself from between Frankie’s lips.

‘No, querida,’ he says softly, ‘It wasn’t right. Shouldn’t have done it. And I shouldn’t have let you see -’ he swallows thickly, throat bobbing. He looks over your head at the white tiles behind you as your grip on his wrist tightens. You still don't look up at him. ‘But it’s not how you treat someone you love. Not how it should be. Should be protecting them, treating them right, loving them the way you love -’ him. He cuts himself off, because he realises as he says it he’s wrong. So wrong.

Right to be like you in your gentleness. In your care, your touch, your tenderness, your loving. But Tanner deserved none of those things. He didn’t deserve your faith, didn’t deserve your protection or your silence either. None of it. 

He closes his eyes.

An image of you flickers through Frankie’s mind. Your fingers on his wrist as they are now, your eyes shining under the streetlights. The glint of your teeth, and the want so clear on your face, then the hesitation, the fear, the shuttering - 

And if only he had kissed you then. If only you had taken him inside. He could have shown you what it was supposed to feel like. He could have saved you from the hurt, the fear which lay ahead.

There’s a splash of warmth on the pale skin of the underside of his forearm, and he opens his eyes again. You’re still hunched over his hand, but your movements have stilled. Frankie waits, confused, before another warm drop lands on his arm and you hiccup a sob out. He whispers out your name, and you turn your face up to him, devastated.

Frankie’s face crumples, and your grip on his wrist loosens enough for him to lift his hands to your face and cup your cheeks.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I wasn’t thinking -’

‘You think I love him?’ You croak.

Frankie’s jaw works around his next sentence, his next thoughts. He tries to process what this means. That look in your eyes, your tears, your implication. His lips move, but no sound comes out.

‘I don’t love him, Frankie,’ you choke, ‘I don’t. Christ - I don’t think I ever did, I never could -’ you suck in a deep, stuttered breath. ‘I’ve never - never hated anyone more. I couldn’t stand him, couldn’t have him near me, couldn’t have him touch me -’ Frankie flinches at your words. ‘But I was so scared. And embarrassed. I didn’t know how to leave - I didn’t know how to tell anybody about what was going on. I was terrified of what he’d do. To me, to you guys, if he found out I’d spoken about it. And he made it so hard for me to see you, so hard for me to get away.’ You sob now, panic and relief forcing out your words. ‘I thought - wherever I go, he’ll find me. He’ll track me down, and he’ll bring me back - and somehow - somehow that was worse than if he tracked me down and - and - I don’t know, killed me or something -’

Frankie’s eyes shutter. He can’t even follow your thought, so awful is the image, the gaping emptiness. He pulls you close, he lets you cry. Curled into his chest, your body wracking with tears, shaking, tense and uncontrollable, the sounds you make rooting in his brain. They file themselves away in a box where very few things go. Deployment. Tom. The darkness after his investigation. You break and break in his arms, and it’s all he can do to hold the pieces of you together. To press kisses to your head, breathe in the smell of your hair, rub his hands over your back, cradle you like a child. 

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there for. He waits until you stop sobbing, stop crying softly, stop hiccuping, stop sniffing. He waits for a few more minutes in the silence, too. And when he pulls away, he presses a long, sweet kiss to your forehead. 

You blink up at him through red, swollen eyes.

‘You’re safe here.’ He says, and you nod.

‘I know. Thank you. For - everything.’ You say thickly. Frankie swallows, nods. You know it all anyway. Any time, for however long you need.

He pads downstairs to get you a glass of water, and while he’s pouring it, he can hear you blow your nose, wash your face. Somehow, they are the most perfect sounds in the world.

Crackling wood’s gone white

And my eye swole up now

I can see the light

Frankie gives you one of his sleep-stretched t-shirts and an old pair of shorts for you to wear to bed. 

The clothes dwarf you a little, and he can’t wipe the small, thrilled smile from his face, even when he looks away. You look fucking adorable. 

You giggle at him every time you see it, your little what? only making him smile harder. It stretches his mouth until it hurts and his cheeks start to cramp up, squishing his swollen eye. Stop he tries to say, but it comes out as an equally breathless huff of laughter - and that only makes you giggle more. So much so that he sweeps you up into his arms to stash you under the covers, and you laugh even harder as he tucks the sheets in tight around you, just like his mama used to do when she wanted him to stay put. 

He looks down at you from the side of the bed, hands on his hips, and you laugh back at him - eyes shining, mouth open in wide hoots of delight, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to contain yourself. He points a finger at you.

‘You need to calm down,’ he says, voice tight with bridled amusement. ‘It’s bedtime.’

But you cackle back at him, this glorious puddle of sunshine in his bed, only howls of laughter for a response. Unable to help himself, he returns your joy, turning off the bedside lamps to slip in beside you.

In the darkness, your snorts subside into ragged breaths, and you turn on your side to look at him. You study him as though you never want to forget a single line on his face; such warmth, such affection in your eyes that Frankie’s whole body swells and lifts.

You take his hand beneath the sheets and hold it between your faces, smiling softly at him.

The first and only girl he’s really ever loved. This brilliant, fierce, bright, intelligent woman damped down by the waste of fucking space who had bled by the fire. At the thought of it, Frankie feels his heart fall out of his chest, down through the floorboards, and plummet towards the middle of the earth.

And finally, he begins to cry.

He tries to stop it, he really does. It’s selfish, he thinks, so awful and selfish to cry in front of you when it’s you who should be wrapped in his arms, swept away by emotion again if you needed to be, safe and warm and unworried, never having to fret about anything again.

But he can’t stop it. It comes out in great shuddering breaths - pained, wracked sounds slipping past his lips, and he can’t help it. He tries to gather them in his hands to shove them back in his mouth, tries to scoop them in his arms and press them back into the caving ache of his chest, but he can’t.

When Frankie was a child, he saw his dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after his father’s brother was killed in a car accident. He had seen it through a crack in his parents’ bedroom door, and it had hurt him. It had wounded him, as a child, to see his father break with such grief, such pain, such emptiness, and to know there was nothing he could do about it. And now, he is split into those two people - younger self, older self - as he thinks of you lying next to him on the bed. This person who he loves so much, who is now so full of the knowledge of the worst parts of living, wound up so tight within you that you let it settle, let it unfurl around your bones. He sees your hurt, your grief, your pain refracted around him tenfold, and he hurts with you. He sees you as the boy he once was, this poor creature looking in at a heart breaking, as he has unknowingly watched yours break for months.

And he’s so sorry, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop saying it.

But here you are, still, performing the ultimate act of kindness. Comfort.

He feels the mattress move as you slide closer to him, and then your hand is on his back, swooping in gentle movements. He feels the scrabble of your fingers under the ribs he has pressed into the bed, the pressure of your arm moving under him so you can hold him properly. Frankie sobs harder, but he opens his body to you. You press closer to him, burying your face in his neck, and he breathes you in as he cries. Your scent is here, you are here. And like you heard him, you whisper -

‘It’s okay, Frankie. It’s okay. ’M here. I’m safe.’ And this realisation allows a little more air, but it doesn’t make Frankie’s guilt, his shame any better. But you’re right, he knows it. And somewhere in his crying, this turns his gasps to tears of relief. Softly, you retract your arms from around him.

You take his hands away from his face, and kiss the palms. You kiss each fingertip, each bruised and cracked knuckle. You lean forward and press a kiss to each tear, each trail of saltwater on his face. And you are so beautiful in the moonlight. Soft and wide eyed. Safe. Kind, always kind, and full of understanding. Frankie sees now that you have been crying against him, too, your eyelashes cloyed with tears. Sees his thoughts in your eyes as though you have had each of them zip to you through the air. When you were a child, you saw your dad cry once. Only once, and exactly like this, after…

A smile breaks through your eyes, chasing away the remnants of tears, glazing down, softening your lips. 

And Frankie doesn’t think this time. His feet don’t fail him. He doesn’t think of stars or glitter or constellations of ice crystals. He just kisses you. And kisses you and kisses you and kisses you. And he doesn’t stop, because nothing else matters anymore.

You’re safe. You’re warm. You’re in his bed. 

You’re here.

You tip your head back, deepening the kiss, licking into Frankie’s mouth. He gives in so easily to you he’s almost ashamed. But then your fingers clutch at him, ball at the bottom of his shirt, tangle in the thick of his hair, and all his thoughts are forgotten. He feels you slip a soft, strong leg over his, pulling him forward. You groan against him, and Frankie’s cock twitches. You feel it, you must do, as you pull your body closer to him, tight against him. Frankie is so lightheaded he doesn’t know where his hands are, what they’re doing - and when he concentrates, he finds them skating over your back, squeezing the tension out of the back of your neck, gripping your hip.

He moans against you as you rock your hips over his thigh, as he feels the heat of your sex against his skin. He feels like he’s on fire.

You slip a hand under his sleep shorts and palm him, brushing his silken length with two fingers, feeling him grow harder, thicker against you. You take him in your hand, pump him once, twice with the perfect grip, the perfect speed, like you were made for him. He’s gasping against you, panting as you suck his lower lip into your mouth.

‘Baby,’ he groans, breathless, ‘We don’t have to. We really don’t -’

You look up at him through gorgeous, glazed eyes.

‘I want to,’ you say, ‘Do you?’

Dangerous, dangerous question. 

Frankie tries to shake his head, look away, think of anything but the tight fist of your fingers around his cock.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘I do. But I don’t think - this is the right thing -’

You loosen your grip, draw away from him. His body aches with a shudder.

His eyes flick back to yours again - confused, hurt - fuck, he can’t do that to you, ever -

‘I - I don’t want to take advantage of it - of you,’ he says. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks as you look down the sheets towards your toes. His jaw tightens. ‘And - and I don’t want this to mean - different things for us. I don’t want it to ruin what we have.’ Frankie breathes out heavily through his nose. He has to tell you now. He has to. ‘I don’t want it to mean different things, because I love you. I always have. And if we do this, if I have you even just for a night, I - I’ll never recover from it.’ Tears spike in his eyes again. He tries to smile. ‘You’d ruin me. And I don’t think I’d ever forgive you for it.’

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Frankie watches as your eyes flit back up to his. They search his face, the dribble of his barely-shed tears, the slope of his sad smile. You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, running your thumb over his scraps of beard. He closes his eyes.

‘What you said earlier,’ you begin. Frankie swallows. He waits for the blow of rejection. ‘About me - about me loving him.’ He opens his eyes slowly to find yours, bright and clear. Something begs to bubble over in them. Something golden and warm. ‘You were wrong - obviously. And I couldn’t tell you truly why, because I was afraid. So afraid of pushing you away, even though I think that’s all I’ve ever done. I’ve never thought I was worth it, Frankie. I don’t deserve you. And I am terrified of how much I love you.’ You beam at him, eyes bubbling over with that thing - love - ‘I love you,’ you say simply, like it’s not the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. 

A stunned little laugh ripples up his throat, and you copy it. He grips your face in his hands, and kisses you again, again, again.

‘I love you,’ he says.

‘I love you, too,’ you giggle.

‘And you are,’ he presses to your lips, ‘You are absolutely worth it.’

He rolls over on top of you, and begins to kiss your jaw, nipping at the skin there, before moving down your throat. He kisses you with a hot, open mouth, sucking marks into the sensitive skin at your pulse point. Mine, he groans, and you whimper against him, rubbing your thighs together.

Frankie pushes your shirt up - his shirt - so he can bite at your chest, press kisses to every bit of exposed skin. Every single part of you that deserves to be loved, every single place which has so far been unknown to him. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, delighted when you keen beneath him, panting, please, please Frankie, before he sinks lower down, peeling his shorts away from you to expose your glistening cunt. 

He groans, unable to take his eyes away from it as he leans forward, pressing his body into the mattress to lick a stripe from your asshole to your clit.

‘Frankie -’ you groan down at him as he begins to work at you, sucking and licking, nipping at your thigh before slipping his tongue into your hole, swiping and tasting everything you’re giving to him. He grinds himself into the mattress, hissing at the relief, the uncomfortable weight of his cock dragging below him.

‘Taste so good, baby,’ he tells you, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to taste, wants to smell anything else ever again. All he can do is eat at you, breathe you in, until you’re begging him -

‘Frankie, your fingers - please -’ And he flexes his hand at your hip before brushing a fingertip against your entrance and gasping at the pain. 

You try to bear down towards him, but he rips his hand away, lifting his head towards you.

‘Can’t,’ he gasps, and you mewl, bucking your hips up to his face, desperate. ‘Hand’s fucked,’ he says, and you still your movements before beginning to laugh again. It’s loud and from your belly, and it's bizarre. But Frankie gets it. He gets it, and he giggles too. He doesn’t try to fuck his broken knuckles into you, but he does try to continue lathing you with his tongue. You’re making it pretty fucking difficult, though.

‘Stop laughing,’ he huffs against your clit, ‘I’m trying to make you come.’

‘Okay,’ you say, gasping for air, ‘Okay. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. You’re doing really well, by the way.’ But this only makes him laugh. He groans, leaning his forehead against your inner thigh. ‘This is impossible.’ He pouts.

‘Nooo,’ you cry, leaning up on your elbows to pout down at him. ‘Please, baby. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. I won’t laugh anymore.’

‘Promise?’ He says. You hold out your pinky to him.

‘Pinky promise.’ You say.

Frankie stretches his hand out to you and tries to extend his pinky. He winces at the sharp pain which shoots from the movement, and grunts at you, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

‘You bastard,’ he says, trying and failing to hold his smile, ‘You knew I wouldn’t be able to do that.’

‘Just keeping you on your toes,’ you grin, and then before you can make any more smart remarks, Frankie resumes his ministrations, lapping and tonguing at your clit, your hole, mouthing hot, wet kisses to your pussy. He shakes his head from side to side, running your bud in tight, hard little circles until you’re a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him. Your hips buck unconsciously, and Frankie hooks both his arms around your thighs to hold you down, flattening his hands against your belly to keep you firmly in place. He reaches up to twist at your nipples and you gasp. 

‘God, Frankie, tongue feels so fucking good -’ 

He can feel you begin to pulse against his chin as your whines get higher in pitch, and he groans as you twist handfuls of his hair.

‘Come on, baby,’ he says, ‘Give it to me. Wanna see you come, querida. Wanna taste it. Come on my face.’

And you do, the sensation of it arching your back tight like a bow, a strangled moan cutting off into the ceiling.

‘Fuck, Frankie, fuck -’ as he drives you through it, nodding and murmuring against you as you try to wriggle free, squealing in protest until you manage to twist a leg and set a foot against his chest, pushing him off. 

‘Fucking - hell -’ You pant, and Frankie grins down at you, smug.

‘Good?’ He asks, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Oh, fuck you, Morales.’ You laugh, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss, moaning when you taste yourself on him. Your tongue explores every part of his mouth, every crevice behind every tooth, like you can’t get enough of him. Like there'll never be enough of him. ‘Now fuck me.’ You whisper.

And Frankie does not need to be told twice.

He rips his shirt up and off his back, shucks his shorts down his legs, and squeezes himself tight as he can in his left hand. He ruts into his palm, thumb swiping to slick his heavy beads of precum down his length.

‘Ready?’ he asks, looking down to find you staring wide-eyed at his cock. It twitches under your gaze.

‘What?’ He says, and you shake your head in quiet disbelief and amusement. You lift your eyes back to his face, and they are so dark with arousal he almost melts into the mattress.

‘Nothing,’ you shrug. ‘Just somehow never believed Pope and the boys when they said it was like two coke cans put together.’ 

‘Jesus Christ.’ Frankie laughs, his face pulling tight with a grin as he lines himself up at your entrance, swilling the head in your arousal.

‘I mean, what if it doesn’t fit?’ You babble, and he shakes his head.

‘It’ll fit, baby,’ he says. ‘We’ll make it fit.’ Then he sinks the first inch in, and just waits. He waits and watches you, watches as your mouth falls slack, all the smart things coming out your mouth grinding to a halt. He throbs at how tight you are around him, at how you clench already, trying to suck him in further. And fuck, you are so wet.

‘You okay, querida?’ He asks through gritted teeth.

You manage a nod, a broken whine escaping you.

‘Move Frankie, please baby -’ you beg, and he groans as he pushes further inside you, watching the obscene stretch of your pussy around him, the way it pulses, the way it gets wetter and warmer and tighter around him. When he bottoms out, he feels the hot rush of his orgasm leap towards him a little too quickly.

‘Fuck, baby,’ he breathes, closing his eyes just to make sure he doesn’t come right away. You squirm beneath him, canting your hips up, trying to fuck yourself. Frankie grips you, gritting his teeth. ‘Stay still,’ he hisses, flushing a little. ‘God, fuck, please - just for a minute.’ He opens his eyes to find you watching him, your bottom lip caught in your teeth. His eyes glaze down your body - his t-shirt bunched up around your chest, perfect tits, perfect belly, and your sweet, sopping cunt split open on his cock. 

He groans again, slipping out, watching as he retreats, soaked by you, before pushing back in. A high pitched whine leaves your lips, and you twitch your hands up to play with your tits. Frankie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more sexy in his life.

‘That’s right,’ he says, ‘Keep playing with yourself like that, gorgeous. Look at you.’

So you do, looking up at him with doe-eyes as he fucks into you, soft at first, letting you adjust before quickening his pace, readjusting his angle, feeling you leak around him. His balls slap against your ass loudly, and you keen up at him, eyes wide, begging for something as you tighten like a coil around him, something you can’t quite voice. But Frankie knows.

He swipes his thumb against your clit, and your eyes roll into the back of your head, your back arching again. He groans at the sight, and works the bundle of nerve endings in tight circles, faster and harder, harder and faster, until you’re gripping him so tight he thinks you might push him out.

‘Come baby, come,’ he pants, ‘Please, querida, need to feel you - need to feel you soak me. Need you to come for me, come on this cock, baby, please -’

And he groans, long and loud as you clench and pulse around him, milking him, pulling him impossible deeper - fuck, Frankie, oh my god, feels so fucking good - the delicious pressure at the base of his spine at breaking point as he fucks you through it, as he pants and gasps -

‘Come, Frankie,’ you plead, ‘Please - want you, need you -’ and he spills himself deep inside you, hips stuttering, eyes clamping shut, overwhelmed and short circuited. He’s never known it could feel like this - good to the end of every synapse - and he’s fucking it in with three long thrusts, pulling out slowly just to watch it dribble out of you as he twitches against his thigh. He thumbs your clit just to watch you seize and sigh against him, then sits back on his knees to look at you.

‘You are something else,’ he says in disbelief.

You smile lazily at him.

‘Ain’t so bad yourself, Morales,’ and he laughs, throwing himself down next to you, kissing anywhere he can. I love you, I love you, I love you. Safe.

You lay there for a while afterwards, just feeling each other, calming your ragged breathing. Eventually, Frankie rises from the bed to grab a washcloth, coming back and swiping between your legs tenderly, gently, before collapsing back into bed and pulling you into his chest.

He feels like he’s in space, and he tells you as much. He spills secrets like a child at a sleepover. He tells you about the glitter and the stars and the constellations of ice crystals. You match him with a galaxy of feeling spanning the time he’s known you. And he feels that this is a dream, this love which floats like a nebula within the bed. He tries to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, even as you sleep. And even when he does drift off, he dreams of you. He dreams of you sparkling with stardust, waiting for him with your arms open.

When he wakes the next morning, you’re still there. Safe, soft and warm against him, furled into his ribcage, heart beating against the hand that’s pressed against your chest.

Everything’s okay. That red thread still intact, after all.

When the sun rises, bloody and mild, it’s never been so sweet.

A little piece of a bloody tooth

Just so you know I was thinking of you

[duhnova]

Cry-Baby | Choi Seungcheol

synopsis. decked out in leather and riding a harley davidson like he’s got business with the devil, choi seungcheol was the talk of your small town. everyone looked down on him and when you come home for the first time since starting uni you find it hard to believe that the pouty lipped kid you tossed off the merry-go-round when you were six was some slick haired delinquent. 

pairing. biker!choi seungcheol x fem!reader 

word count: 4.9k

genre. fluff, angst, opposites attract, drama?, kind of college au

warning(s): mentions of parent death, mentions of parent illness, alcohol, let me know if i forgot anything!

this is apart of a 90's collab! you should check out everyone elses fics! - there might be a smutty & more angsty part 2 to this if there’s enough interest! also huge shoutout to @onlyhuis and @onlymingyus for proofreading for me, ily guys <3

When you left for university three years ago you never wanted to return home, the small town always made you feel claustrophobic. But now you’re sitting on a train, about an hour away from your childhood, the sony walkman you got as a graduation present from high school sat in your lap as you listened to the same nirvana cassette on repeat. 

The nerves of being home began to get to you as the familiar views of the old trailer park that sat outside your town came into view. An old pickup truck that adorns the same white and blue paint of your best friend's truck drives down the road that travels along the train tracks and it makes you wonder if it’s him coming to meet you at the station.  

“We’ll be arriving at the station within the next five minutes.” The worker smiled at you as she continued down the aisle of seats to tell the other patrons of the cart that the train will be stopping for a couple minutes at your stop before embarking to the next station. 

You put your walkman in your pocket so that you aren’t scrambling to gather your things when the train stops. Just as you got your backpack situated the train jolted a little as its breaks screech to a stop. 

“Ladies and gentlemen we have reached our next stop.” The worker's voice is drowned out by your music as you stand up and grab your suitcase before hopping out the door with the worker's help in lifting your bag down. 

“Thank you!” You call out and wave as the door closes and the train takes off again, no one else got on or off. 

“Y/N!” You hear a familiar voice call from behind you, the roar of a diesel engine brings a certain comfort to you that you haven’t felt since you left. 

“Gyu!” You call out with a smile on your face, the change in his appearance being more shocking in person than you thought it would be, having only seen him in pictures he sent from the crappy disposable cameras he and his friends like to use. All the work he’s been doing on his family's ranch has paid off as his muscles glisten with dirt and sweat. 

“I’ve missed you cherry pop.” He hugs you tightly as you laugh at the nickname he gave you years ago because you always had cherry lollipops on you. 

“I’ve.. missed you too.” You choke between laughs and the way he was squeezing you a little too tightly. 

“Sorry,” He laughs as he lets you go to grab your suitcase instead. “Are you hungry? It was a long travel day for you.” 

“I could eat.” You smile as you take your headphones off to let them rest around your neck as you follow your best friend to his truck that was still running and emitting a gross smell of diesel. 

“Great, let’s go to pops diner.” He lifts your suitcase over the side of the truck bed like it was nothing before he opens the door for you to get in. The leather of his seats were warm from his heater that left the cabin toasty unlike the train car you had been sitting in almost all day. 

“How are you?” You ask about the owner of the diner who was well into his 70’s at this point, his restaurant having been open for almost five decades at this point.

“He’s doing good, got his hip replaced last summer,” Mingyu shifts the car into drive after he reversed out of the spot he parked at. “Still kickin, Cheols mom still works there too.” The mention of your old childhood playmate makes you smile bittersweetly. The last time you two had talked was before you left for college and he seemed angry about everything in life and he took it out on you leaving a sour taste in your mouth and the lack of communication between the two of you over the past few years.  

“That’s nice, how is she doing? I remember last you told me she was in the hospital for something.” Mingyu sighs a little from beside you.

“Yeah she was, took me forever to get anything out of Cheol about it but she’s doing good now. Or so I’ve been told.” Seungcheol had always been hard headed and he’d rather talk about other people's problems than his own so it didn’t surprise you that Mingyu had to dig for some type of answer from him. 

“Is she working today? I’d love to see her…” Your voice trailed off as you thought about the lady’s son, who you desperately wanted to see as well but how you left things made you hesitant.

“Not today, she’s off for the weekend.” You nod, mumbling that it’s nice that she takes the weekend for herself. 

“I know you and Cheol had some blowout when you left but I’m going to see him later after I drop you off, if you wanna come with you’re more than welcome too.”

“What’re you two doing?” Mingyu was surprised you didn’t immediately shoot down his offer, he thought it would take more convincing.

“We’re going to the river for a bonfire with Jeonghan and Wonwoo.”

“They’re home too?” They had both left for college around the same time you had.

“Yeah, they come home every break they can.. Unlike someone I know.” He laughs lightheartedly. You huff quietly, unsure of how to respond. How do you respond anyways? You never wanted to come back, memories weighed heavy on your heart and the only thing keeping you to your hometown was the friends that resided in it.

“Hey,” Mingyu's voice softens. “I get it, you got out when you saw the chance and I’m proud of you.” 

“Thank you.” Your voice was just as soft as you watched the familiar scenery zip by. A nice silence fell between the two of you as he focused on driving, the train station sitting a couple miles out from the town you used to live in. 

“The bank sold the house by the way.” Mingyu broke the silence, a nervous sweat settled on his forehead as he broke the news to you. 

“About time.” You sigh, another weight you didn’t realize you were holding lifted off your shoulders. “Less for me to deal with now.” 

“You’re not upset?” Mingyu looks at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“No,” You sit up straighter and begin picking at the hem of your jacket. “My father was a drunk with thousands of dollars of debt he owed the bank so I’m not even surprised they sold it to make back what they lost and then some I’m sure.” 

“At least an actual family bought it instead of some corporation.” Mingyu tried to lighten the mood. “They just moved in and they have a newborn and a cute dog that I think you’d like.” 

“What kind of dog is it?” You side eye Mingyu, appreciative of the fact he moved on from the sensitive topic so quickly. 

“A corgi, they said it’s a black tricolor… Whatever that means.”

“It’s the fur color, it’s mainly black with a little bit of brown and white?”

“Yes! See this is why you went to college, you’re smart as hell.” You shake your head with a smile on your face. 

“You’re smart too, Gyu, and not going to college doesn’t affect that.” He shrugs as he slows his speed down after approaching the edge of town. 

“If you say so cherry pop.” Just as he pulled up to the first stoplight the roar of a loud engine could be heard from a distance. 

“I bet that’s Cheol.” You look at Mingyu confused before your question gets lost once you see the helmet less Seungcheol sped by on a motorcycle you had never seen before, his once dark hair was bleached blonde.

“That’s Cheol?” You asked as you watched him disappear down the opposite street you and Mingyu turned down. 

“Yeah, he changed quite a bit since you left.” That was an understatement as Seungcheol looked as big as Mingyu, maybe bigger if you dared to think.

“I can see that, can’t believe he bleached his hair.” 

“He did that pretty recently actually, said he needed a change and decided the worst that could happen is his hair would fall out.” 

“He’d look good with a buzz cut.” Mingyu laughs at the thought causing you to laugh too. 

“You should tell him that tonight when we hang out, I guarantee he’ll either blow a gasket or take you seriously and actually cut his hair off.” 

“He would drown me in the river first before he’d listen to me.” 

“I don’t know cherry pop, you were very influential to him for a long time. Remember how he did your bidding all throughout elementary school?” 

“Yeah cause I tossed him off the merry-go-round at recess and he decided he was scared of me until junior high.” 

“I think we were all scared of you after that,” Mingyu puts the car in park after pulling up to the diner. “The older kids wouldn’t mess with me either because you scared them too.” The fact Mingyu is younger than you by two years makes you question reality as he’s much bigger then you now and has been since junior high. 

“Still wild to think about.” You laugh as Mingyu hops out the truck to run over and open the door for you, he’s never allowed you to open your own door since he started driving. 

“Oh, I guess Cheol’s mom is working today.” Mingyu closes the door behind you and puts the key in the handle to lock it as he stares at the familiar woman through the window that was taking someone’s order. “Someone must’ve called out of work today.” 

The two of you walk to the front door together, making small talk about anything and everything. Seungcheol’s mother greeted the two of you with a smile and handed you two menus once you sat down. 

“It’s good to see you sweetheart.” She smiles widely at you, she was always like a second mother to you growing up especially after you mothers untimely passing. 

“It’s good to see you too, you look great.” You smile warmly, despite any animosity you might feel for her son right now you will never be able to hate this woman. 

“I’ll start you two off with some water?” You both nod, prompting her to walk away. 

“So how’s the ranch?” You scan the menu, already knowing what you want but wanting to check to see if anything new was added. 

“It’s good, Cheol doesn’t work there anymore.” Mingyu doesn’t look up from his menu to see your surprised expression. “Mr. Johnson offered him a job as a mechanic after seeing the work he would do on the farm equipment.” 

“Mechanics suit him.” You smile at his mother when she comes back with your waters. 

“Do you two know what you want?” You both nod, letting Mingyu order first despite the look he gave you after you shrug and take a big gulp of your water. “Are you getting your usual sweetheart?” She turns to you.

“How do you remember what I used to order?” Your eyes widen.

“You’d order the same thing almost every time you’d come here since you were a kid and I’ve been working here longer than you’ve been alive so I have it practically engraved into my memory.” She laughs quietly as she takes your menus. “You and my son are the same in your consistency in ordering the same thing.” 

“Oh.” You could feel your face heating up at the thought. You’re happy she didn’t bother to push a conversation as she went to help more people that came in. 

“You and Cheol are as opposite as opposite can be.” 

“You don’t say.” You roll your eyes playfully. 

The banter between you and Mingyu continued on, even after your food came you both found something to poke — and trust me there was a lot to poke at that has happened over the past three years that couldn’t be conveyed over letters and the occasional call here and there. 

“We should head out now, get you to the ranch so you can clean up and rest before tonight.” Mingyu paid for your guy's food like the gentleman he is and held the door open for you as you walked out into the warm summer air. 

“Am I obligated to go swimming tonight?” Mingyu shakes his head. 

“You’re not but we’ll all be swimming so,” He hops into the truck after opening the door for you. “Just to be safe you might wanna wear your swimsuit.” 

“Got it.” You nod your head before watching out the window again, committing your old hometown to memory again. The drive to the ranch was peaceful and long, sitting a few miles out of town on the opposite side of where the diner was. 

Once you got to Mingyu's house and greeted his family and caught up, you went to the spare room upstairs to unload your bags and lay on the bed to unwind. A quick nap was sure to help the oncoming headache you got so after changing your clothes to be a little more comfortable you crawl under the freshly cleaned blanket and almost instantly knock out. 

A couple hours pass by before Mingyu is knocking on the door to wake you up, telling you the guys are heading to the river now and that you two need to get going soon.

Groaning quietly as you sit up in bed and stretch, it felt nice to not have to worry about anything as this is the first summer you decided to not take summer classes as you'd be graduating early after this upcoming fall semester. Getting up and taking your walkman out of your bag again you took out the nirvana cassette and put in green day instead, the music more uplifting and giving you an ounce of energy to put your swimsuit on and a pair of shorts and jacket to cover yourself. 

“How was your nap dear?” Mingyu's mother greeted you as you walked down the stairs, your friend standing by the door waiting (im)patiently for you. 

“Amazing, sitting all day in those train seats takes a toll on your back.” You take your walkman headphones off and half hazardously shove them into your jacket pocket. 

“Tell me about it, I can’t sit for too long now without going stiff.” She smiles warmly as she wishes you two well as you b-line to the door after Mingyu told you to hurry up. 

 “Couldn’t even give me time to say bye.” You grumble as you shuffle up to the truck where Mingyu was holding the door for you. 

“Sorry cherry pop, the guys are waiting for us and we still gotta get drinks.” 

“Why are we getting the drinks?” You buckle up and put your headphones back on, both of your tastes in music are dramatically different as he puts in a country cassette into the radio. 

“You’re home, they want you to get what you want instead of drinking what they like.” 

“They still drink that shitty dollar beer right?” Mingyu nods. “Then we drink the same thing, not much has changed as I still couldn’t afford the expensive stuff being at college.” 

“Great, that makes this run cheap.” The ride to the corner store was quick, the street lights lining the road leading from the ranch to town making the trees look ominous. 

Once you guys had secured the alcohol you made your way to the river. The long body of water stretched for miles outside of town in both directions, and the one spot you guys have always met up at since junior high was hidden away. You had thick bushes to climb through and poison ivy to look out for as it wasn’t a regular site on the river to be at. 

“Mingyu! Y/N!” Jeonghan called happily when he saw the two of you emerge from the bushes. The bonfire was already large and roaring while Cheol and Wonwoo were already in the water swimming. 

“Hannie!” You smile and hug him happily, he was always the least affectionate person so when he offered you a hug you always took it. 

“How have you been? It’s been years!” He pulls away from the hug to greet Mingyu while sitting down in his chair and pats the one next to him that looked to have been occupied by Seungcheol at one point based on the jacket hanging on it. 

“I’ve been good, college has been tough but I'm graduating a semester early.” You smile at Mingyu who hands you a beer before he sets the box down and makes quick work to strip down to his swim trunks so he can join the other two in the water. “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been great, graduating a semester later than I should've, but I took a light load last semester because I was back and forth to be here for Cheol while his mom was in the hospital.” you nod your head while taking a drink of your beer. You never realized that his mom being in the hospital was that bad. 

“Mingyu didn’t tell me much about her being in the hospital so I didn’t realize it was that bad.” You look out at the three guys who are currently climbing the rock in the middle of the river so they can jump into the water.

“He wanted to write to you, ever since you left it’s all he had been beside himself about but when his mother got sick he wanted to write to you even more.” Jeonghans voice was soft, nervous that the said male would hear your two's conversation and start hounding him for spilling the secret. 

“I wanted to write him too, but-“

“But you couldn’t, I’m not as hard headed as Seungcheol so I get why but I don’t get why you couldn’t have let him down sooner.” You sigh, this was a conversation you knew you’d have eventually as Jeonghan was Seungcheols best friend outside of you and he was the only one that knew about you two. 

“I wanted to, believe me it was never my plan to break things off the day I was leaving but I was selfish and didn’t want to let him go yet.”

“You are selfish,” You laugh quietly, thanking him. “But he’s selfish too, this town holds too many bad memories for you and he wanted to tie you to it when you finally had the chance to escape it.”

“You know, I asked him to come with me.” You took another sip of your beer, your eyes back on the blonde who seemed to feel you staring as he tilted his head back and gave you a bitter smirk. “When I first got the acceptance letter and I was on the fence about going, he wanted me to go but he also wanted me to stay and so I told him to come with me so I didn’t have to choose.”

“He never told me that.” Jeonghan opens up another beer and gingerly takes a sip of it. 

“I’m not surprised, I think he thought it was a joke.” You finally tear your eyes off of Seungcheol to look at Jeonghan. “After that I didn’t tell him I committed and just continued to relish our time together.”

“Y’know, he wanted you to go because this was your dream but he wanted to be a part of that dream and you keeping that from him and then cutting ties with him when you left is what broke him.” 

“I didn’t mean to.” You mumbled and looked down at your half empty beer can. “He was the one that told me that if I wasn’t willing to make things work then he didn’t want to hear from me.”

“Well he’s dumb,” Jeonghan takes another sip. “But so are you.”

“I know.” You close your eyes and sigh, letting your head lull back on the chair. 

“Are you going to talk to him while you’re home? It is the first time you’ve been home since leaving after all.” 

“This isn’t my home anymore.” You don’t bother to open your eyes as you take in the warm night air. This hasn’t been your home since you left and it hasn’t felt like home for far longer, the only thing (or person) that made you feel remotely anchored here was Seungcheol. 

“It was your home at one point, and I'd argue it still is because Seungcheol and the rest of us are here.” 

“Corny loser.” You mumble, a small smile cracking at your lips before you sit up straight. “I’ll talk to him, I promise. I had been prepping myself all week to mend things between us while I was here.” 

“Good.” Jeonghan smiles and downs the rest of his beer. “Now hurry up and finish drinking so we can go join them in the water before it gets colder.” 

“You’re going to die in that water, it’s too cold for you already.” You laugh before downing the rest of your beer so you can strip down to your swimsuit, making sure not to toss your walkman around too much. 

“I’ll manage.” He shrugs after taking his clothes off too before walking cautiously up to the edge of the water. He barely touches it with his big toe and he curses. 

“Told you,” You stand beside him and watch his reaction. “You just gotta go in as quick as you can.” You show him how it’s done as you take a deep breath in and hold it as you quickly walk into the water before you’re deep enough to dive under. 

“Show off.” He huffs before he follows in your footsteps, cursing the whole way up to his shoulders. 

“You did it han,” Wonwoo pats him on the shoulder. “You’re shivering already.” 

“It’s fucking cold and you’re all insane.” He huffs and starts to swim around a little, letting the cold water soothe his warm skin. 

“I think it feels good.” You had popped back up next to Mingyu who was standing with Seungcheol who was watching Jeonghan worried. 

“It does feel good.” Mingyu lets the water support his body as he starts to swim backwards, no longer being a wall between you and the ire of your freshman year of college. 

“It’s good to see you Y/N.” Wonwoo gives you a small smile before he also swims away, leaving you and Seungcheol alone and seeing the look on Jeonghan's face in the distance makes you believe that this was planned. He clears his throat when he seems to realize you two are alone.

“Um,” Is all he manages to say before you’re taking a deep breath and turning to look at him. 

“Hi Seungcheol.” He flinches at the use of his full name.

“Ouch, hi litt-“ He catches himself using the old nickname he had for you. “Hi Y/N.”

“God I hate this.” You can’t be bothered to hide the fact that the whole situation makes you sad and angry already, you missed him and he was right there in front of you and you were both acting like you wanted nothing to do with each other, which might’ve been true right after you had left but as time went on it faded into longing and anger at oneself.

“You hate this? How do you think I feel?” He crosses his arms and looks down at you. 

“Cheol I-“

“I don’t want to hear excuses.”

“Ok asshole I was going to apologize but not anymore.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him so you could swim away, the conversation you had with Jeonghan felt like complete bullshit now. 

“Wait,” he grabbed your arm to spin you back around, the water splashing violently at the fast movement. “I’m sorry, for everything.” It was rare that he’d ever apologize and right now it felt out of place as he had no reason to apologize at the moment. 

“I practiced how this conversation would go for weeks and this was not one of the ways I accounted for. You weren’t supposed to apologize first.” You look up at Seungcheol who was just staring at you silently now, his hand still holding tightly on your arm. “Seungcheol I-“

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop interrupting,” You huff, the smallest smile forming on his face “I’m sorry for how I left things and for everything leading up to when I left.” 

“Y’know, I spent most of the first year you were gone blaming you, and then I started blaming myself until my mother made me realize that neither of us were to blame and then I spent the remainder of the time just numb.”

“If you stopped blaming me, how come you didn’t write to me?”

“You never wrote to me.” He sounded hurt and you were hurt too but you hated the pain in his voice and it caused you to move closer to him, hoping you could erase even just a hint of it.

“I’m sorry, there was never a time where I didn’t think about writing to you but your words kept playing in my head about how you never wanted to hear from me if I left our relationship behind.”

“It wasn’t much of a relationship then was it, we were just friends exploring each other,” That’s what you liked to tell eachother when you were in denial about your feelings. “I wrote letters, most of them are stamped and sitting in my desk drawer because I couldn’t bring myself to send them.”

“Yet you bought stamps for them?” You raise an eyebrow curiously. 

“Yes,” He huffs, trying to hide the ounce of embarrassment he’s feeling. “I’d get these bouts of feelings where I’d want to send them and I’d get all the way to the post office with a stamp on the envelope and the second I’d park I’d back out and go back home only to hide it away with the others.” 

“Cheol…” 

“I know it’s probably stupid and I’ll just burn them all now since you’re home and-“

“I’m not staying,” You cut him off for some reason. “I mean I’m staying for the summer but I’m going back home to finish my last semester of college so I can get a job at a vet clinic there.” 

“That’s ok, this time I promise I will write.”

“You should come with me.” You blurt out like you did all those years ago.

“I can’t leave my mother, she won’t leave this town and with her health fluctuating I just can’t.” He gave you an actual answer this time unlike he did when you were younger. 

“I get it, she needs you.. But one day you have to leave this place, don’t you think?” Your hand gently touches his arm as you drift even closer to him. 

“I never thought of leaving until you left.” He mumbled as his hands moved to ghost over your sides that were under the water. 

“One day?” You sounded hopeful. “Even if we’re old and married to other people do you think you’d still leave?” 

“I..” His voice trailed off as your breath got closer to his face. “I’d never marry… unless it was you.” He whispered before he finally kissed you, the weight of what he said disappearing as you both got lost in the taste of each other. After what felt like an eternity you finally pulled away out of breath, a quiet whistle could be heard from behind Seungcheol somewhere and you assumed it had to be Jeonghan since Mingyu would’ve quite literally jumped the two of you. 

“Cheol- '' He cuts you off.

“Let's enjoy the night, yeah?” He didn’t want to talk about what he just said, or what the future would hold anymore. It’ll take time, you both realized, for things to go back to normal but for now you were content with how things were because this time he knew what to expect when summer ends, he just hoped that you’d change your mind about long distance relationships. And you hoped he’d change his mind about rotting away in this small town.

feedback + reblogs greatly appreciated! let me know what you guys thought!

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Please Fix the Story- Side Part - Adonis

My first side part of two. Will plan for a second one for Liam. Hope you guys enjoy seeing it from a "hero's" perspective!

Enjoy!

Masterpost linked here!

____________________________

 I am the hero.

I believed this with every part of my being. Every cell and every atom within me screamed for me to step into the spotlight that was rightfully mine. The center stage that everyone longed for but so few could touch.

I grew up in obscurity. A father in a dead-end job whose lack of drive and ambition led our family to live paycheck to paycheck. Coming home just to drink and complain about work. I also had two older brothers who finished high school and went straight to work in the shop like our old man, with little regard for the world beyond our small town. But my mother… my mother was like me. She was a dreamer.

During my childhood she would read to me every night before bed. Classics, sci-fi, adventure stories… any book my mother could get her hands on. We explored world after world from the safety of my room as she read to me, equal parts excitement and longing shining in her eyes as she described faraway places and people that she would never get to see.

But her favorite story, the one we read most often, was a classic. A story of a brave knight, a hero. A story of a beautiful princess. A story of an evil dragon. I would listen with childish wonder as she described the princess being kidnapped and guarded in a tower, the knight and the dragon’s harrowing battle, and the happily ever after that awaited the hero and the princess.

“All stories should be like this one.” She told me confidently. “It is the best story in the world.”

She would point to pictures of the knight in the story book, a man in metal armor with a brightly shining sword. “When you grow up, you are going to be a great hero, a great man like him!”

I looked up at her, confused. “What about dad? Isn’t he great? Shouldn’t I grow up to be like him?”

At my question, her eyes were filled with sorrow and rage. “Don’t you EVER end up being like your dad. He’s a nobody.” She pointed at the book. “There’s no pictures of men like your dad in here, because they’re not important enough to get pictures. They don’t defeat the dragon, they don’t marry the princess, and they don’t have happy endings.”

“But Dad married you, and you are better than any princess!”

“…” She just stared silently at me for a moment. “Promise me you won’t become like your father. PROMISE.”

“… I promise.” I looked down at the knight in shining armor again, feeling determined.

I am the hero.

____________________________

My mother left us shortly after. Quietly walked out with her bags while we were all sleeping. My father didn’t say much to us about it. Just worked harder at his dead-end job and drank more when he was home. I watched it all, and knew without a doubt: My father was unhappy because he wasn’t the hero my mother wanted him to be. But I was different than him.

I worked hard, studied harder. Got into college on a scholarship. I was studying finance, determined to get into a career that would make a lot of money. To be different from my father. Packed away with all of my textbooks and papers, however, I still carried around my mother’s favorite book, the only memento I had of her, the only thing she had left behind for me to keep.

And that’s how I met Arabella.

My fairy tale book slipped out of my bag one day as I sat on bench trying to find a specific paper. I bent over and reached out to pick it up, but she got there before me.

“I love this book! Such a classic!” She smiled at me as she handed it over.

I fell in love with her smile.

We talked at length about books and stories. She was an English major, a lover of writing in all its forms. After that fateful day we spent many hours together. Talking, laughing, trading ideas. I fell deeper and deeper in love with her, fantasizing about confessing my feelings, and having her reciprocate. We would get married, have children, become successful, important people. Different from my father and mother.

She was my princess, my happy ending.

… Until she wasn’t.

“This is my boyfriend, Ben.” She introduced him with a different smile. I had thought I had seen all of her smiles, but it turns out that her most beautiful one, the one filled with love, was saved for someone else.

I hated him.

Hated how he seemed to shine in every space he was in. Hated that he was always the center of attention. He was a natural born leader, a great conversationalist, an all-around good guy that everyone liked. I hated everything about him, but most of all I hated the fact that he stole the love of my life from me. My darling Arabella.

She was mine.

But when I finally worked up my courage to tell her my feelings, instead of a smile filled with love, I got a look of pity and concern. She didn’t feel the same. She hoped we could still be friends.

I was humiliated. I thought I was the hero of her story, but I was just a nobody, a friend, an extra on the sidelines.

I was just like my father.

I hated my father, hated myself for being like him. But slowly, inevitably, my hatred took a new turn.

Arabella. Why did she not love me? Why was she ignoring our obvious connection? Why did she look at me with pity when I was so much better than that loser she was dating?

I hated her too. If she had never been there, I would have never felt so weak and helpless. I felt trapped in the sidelines, and couldn’t see a way to escape this fate of being nothing, of fading into obscurity. I had to do something. I refused to disappear into nothingness.

I am the hero.

So I fixed the problem.

And as I stood over the bodies of Arabella and Ben, my hand still holding the blood-stained knife, watching the blood pooling under them, rolling slowly towards my shoes. I realized the truth behind my world:

I was special.

The world froze. An inhuman being, the System, offered me a chance to work with it, to save the universe.

It was everything I wanted and more. Power. Prestige. A mission. I would be the main character, the knight I read about. I would be the hero.

It warned me that if I left with it, this world would be destroyed. I looked around. Now that I knew that this world was a lower realm, a romance story that I was a side character in, it all seemed so… small. Worthless. This world had done nothing but contain me, and I deserved to escape it.

I felt a brief flash of conscience. If I said yes, everyone I knew would be destroyed. My father. My brothers. My friends in college.

My mother.

Arabella.

But what have they ever done for me? I looked at the two options in front of me, and selected “Yes” with a firm hand.

And in that instant, they were gone.

And I was free.

____________________________

The System and I came up with a plan to save the universe. We tied all the heroes to me, to help me improve their character, in bonds called Fate.

But it wasn’t enough.

So we got a dragon, an evil creature who could be a good prototype for the villains in the lower realms. My nemesis to fight. But this failed too. The dragon was weak. For all its anger and desperation in the beginning, it soon became like a soulless, lifeless puppet. Silently completing its mission in each lower realm, often dying so quickly that I barely had time to influence the hero’s story. Punishments, threats… nothing worked. The nameless villain just looked at me with eyes that seemed like they belonged to something dead.

“You cannot threaten me.” It whispered. “You have already destroyed everything I love. My family is gone. I am alone.”

I felt a brief moment of panic at his words, but pushed it down and walked away. Refusing to dwell on the thought that rose up at his words:

We were similar. We both lost everyone. We were both alone. But we were so different… I lost mine by choice.

It didn’t matter. I did what I had to do.

I am the hero.

____________________________

We were getting nowhere. We needed something more, before the universe became too unstable, and all of the lower realms collapsed.

We needed a heroine. My princess.

There was only one option. One woman that I would accept. The love of my life, the heroine of my story,

Arabella.

I knew the System could do it. It was the god of this universe, filled with strange, unnatural abilities. It could bring her back, erase what I had done.

It had to.

After much arguing, the System agreed to “create” an Arabella.

I met her in the higher realm, the System had dressed her in gorgeous clothes, just like the princess she was meant to be.

I looked at her, and she was just as beautiful as I remembered. And she was mine.

But then everything went wrong.

She looked like Arabella. And sometimes had similarities to Arabella, such as a love for stories. But she was also so very different.

“Call me Bel.” She asked me one day, her eyes filled with frustration.

“But you ARE Arabella.” I felt desperate to explain.

She shook her head. “It doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to be called that. You mean something different than me when you use that name, and it makes me uncomfortable.”

What could I say. How could I explain? I bit my tongue and agreed.

It was so frustrating. Having my Arabella so close, yet so far away of me. She learned about our world quickly, and displayed an astonishing talent for fixing the lower realms in a variety of ways, but never once in the way that I wanted, the true and better way.

I tried to tell her about the higher story. About fate. The princess and the hero needed to fall in love. Our happiness, our love would stabilize all of the lower realms. Save the universe.

But Bel after listening to me, gave me a look. A look I knew all too well. It was the same look Arabella gave me in my original world.

A look of rejection.

I had become a higher being. Becoming the hero that would define all heroes. Much more than the silly hero my mother showed me in a worn-out story book. But still my princess refused me. She would leave me, just like my mother left my father for being a nobody. An extra. A background character.

I refused to let that happen.

I am the hero.

____________________________

I continued the story. She would be “kidnapped” by the dragon. I would rescue her, we would fall in love, and the dragon would be defeated. All would be right.

But she refused. She decided to die rather than be rescued. And then the System made her a deal.

I watched her disappear. I watched the foolish dragon make a bad deal to follow her. And as they faded from the realm, I panicked.

They had left me behind, the hero, the main character. I had to stop Bel from succeeding, from changing her fate to join the villains. She would accept her fate. She would be my heroine again.

The System, for the first time, fought me. I wanted my memories, control over some of the story, power. It argued that I would only push her further away. I refused to compromise.

Finally, the System agreed, but would only send me to a few worlds.

“She’s already visited twelve worlds.” It stated in a dispassionate voice.

I was in shock. “It’s only been a few minutes!”

“Time moves differently in the Void.”

“SEND ME!”

____________________________

A zombie world. I was the hero, Eric, already in a relationship with a cheerful girl named Hannah. She was a lovely heroine, but utterly helpless. As she stared up at me with love and respect in her gaze, I should have felt happy, content. She treated me as the hero I was, as the center of her universe.

I didn’t care.

She wasn’t Arabella… Bel. She was just a small little character of a broken lower realm. I didn’t need such a worthless being’s love.

I needed HER.

I turned my attention to Jason, Eric’s friend.  A pathetic secondary lead. I despised him, watching his struggles with disdain. Jason was a disgusting worm, following the heroine around like a lost puppy. Oblivious to the fact that she only loved the hero. He was a nobody, an extra.

He reminded me of my father.

I hid his role in Bel’s character’s death. Filled his head with thoughts of violence, planning on using him at just the right moment.

And when Bel showed up, I put myself forward as the perfect hero. Reasonable, friendly, respectful of boundaries. After all the time I spent fixing lower realms with her, I knew what she would like best. The only downside is that I had to play my role, to pretend to love Hannah. I felt the bonds of fate. Anytime I tried to break away from them, the System’s power would correct me. But I still tried my best, hoping that Bel would see beyond the characters we played, see the true me.

But instead, she paid me little to no attention. Only focusing on Hannah, or on the pathetic bastard of a villain who trailed behind her. He was as weak and useless as always, his character supposed to be the leader of a violent gang. Instead, he cooked meals and brewed tea, calling himself a support spouse.

I wanted to kill him.

But I couldn’t. I needed to be a perfect hero. Otherwise, my princess would never love me.

In the end, I failed. The dragon died, but Bel still didn’t look my way. She completed her mission and left the world without a goodbye.

Heartless as always.

____________________________

The System agreed to send me to a second world. A vampire realm. I played her brother Alexander. 

The realm was a disaster. I tried to be perfect, tried to be reasonable and helpful. But I had pushed too far from the character’s role. The System forcefully corrected me, treating me like a puppet over and over, acting like a foolish teenager in love rather than a confident immortal being. I watched in silent rage as the dragon married my princess with a smirk, calling me brother-in-law. I could do nothing but seethe, trapped in this cage of a character, unable to do anything but watched as she saved the realm again.

In the end, it felt so good to kill him. I watched the dragon die under my hands with a smile. And if Bel reacted poorly… well she just didn’t understand my point of view. She didn’t remember our destiny together. She didn’t remember that the dragon was a monster, a villain.

I just had to convince her.

____________________________

“YOU FAILED.” The system told me in the void. It had no emotions, no humanity, but even so I felt that there was a note of panic within its voice.

“You wouldn’t let me do anything!” I argued back. “Give me more freedom, and I promise I will convince her of our point of view.”

“WHAT IF SHE REFUSES?”

“Then I will make sure she fails her mission. Either way, we win, correct?”

“…” The System was silent for a few moments. “YOU HAVE ONE LAST CHANCE. SHE HAS NO MEMORY IN THIS REALM. SHE MUST FAIL. ”

I laughed. “She will.”

I did everything I could. Desperate, this time I resorted to all means: kidnapping, drugging her, lying to her. I betrayed the whole world to the alien race, trying to force her mission to fail.

But she still won. She still refused me, even when her mind and body were falling apart.

And with her power, she restarted our story in the higher realm. She chose the dragon again. She chose to reject fate. And at the end of it I realized her plan was never just to simply join the villain. She became the new System. She became a god.

____________________________

She looked at me, filled with a power I would never know. Standing next to the love of her life that wasn’t me. And I couldn’t help but wonder:

Had I really been so wrong?

“I have a much better ‘fate’ in store for you:” She told me. Smiling a smile I had never seen before. Different from any I had ever seen before A cruel smile. And I truly believed in the depths of my soul, that she was not, she never had been Arabella. The girl I thought I loved, died on the ground after I stabbed her in the heart. Not even her body was left behind as I destroyed the world behind me.

I am the hero.

“You will be banished to a lower realm. To live out your days as an insignificant side character.”

Her power lifted me off the ground, healing the wound in my side. I was helpless against it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! I was the knight! The hero! I would defeat the dragon, save the princess. I would live happily ever after!

“NO! YOU CAN’T!!!”

I am the hero.

“By day, you will remember nothing… but every night, your memories of the higher realms will be returned to you, just enough so you can always live in regret for what you have done.”

“NO!” I struggled against her powers, but there was nothing I could do. I stared into her eyes. So familiar, but foreign. And filled with nothing but weary disdain. I knew that look, knew it all too well. It was the look sealed into my heart, in the depths of my worst nightmares.

It was the look my mother gave my father the night she left. That look couldn’t be for me. It was for nobodies. For extras. For people of no importance. Not for me. Never for me.

I am the hero.

“You must accept your fate, Adonis. Goodbye.”

____________________________

“Heading home, Adler?”

Craig, the middle-aged man in the cubicle next to mine, spoke up as I stood up at my desk.  His space was decorated with miscellaneous motivational signs and pictures of his smiling family. He hid a space heater under his desk, but everyone liked him too much to report it to the manager.

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be done for the day too?” I responded blandly, putting on my coat and walking away. I didn’t really want to get drawn in to a long conversation, which Craig was well known for. From a distance I saw a man and a woman talking, and felt a tightening in my chest. I didn’t want to talk to them, but I couldn’t resist saying hi to her.

“Hi Anne.” I joined the conversation between the two, ignoring the flicker of frustration that crossed her expression. Hopefully she’s just tired. “… Hi Brad.” I added after a long hesitation.

They both greeted me, and fell into an awkward silence. I knew they wanted me to leave, but a strange stubbornness kept my feet rooted in place. “Have you heard about that new movie about knights and dragons that’s coming out soon?”

Anne still seemed annoyed, but showed a brief look of interest at my question. “Oh yeah! I’ve been wanting to go see that one!”

Then would you like to go with me? I bit the words back before they could slip out. It would not go over well, especially with Brad, Anne’s boyfriend standing next to me. Instead, I said something I didn’t mean. “Maybe we could all go see it as a group?”

“Maybe.” Her response was noncommittal.

“…”

“…”

After the silence stretched on too long, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. “Well, have a good night.”

They both waved silently at me, and returned to their conversation with one another, never sparing another glance my way.

I walked away, feeling uncomfortable.

My apartment was empty. I had considered pets, but it would be too much extra cost to the monthly lease. I turned on the light, set down my coat, and looked around with a sigh. The room was pretty bare. I had a few sparse decorations, but couldn’t be bothered to do more. All I needed was a few pieces of furniture, and multiple shelves of books.  I made myself a quick microwave dinner, and since I had finished my latest book last night, went searching through the bookshelves for what I wanted to read next.

My hand paused over a well-worn book. It was a classic story, about knights and princesses and dragons. Basic, childish almost, but I always felt drawn to it. I picked it up once more, and settled down to read.

Passing a quiet evening, I got ready to sleep. I stared up at the ceiling above my bed, a strange emptiness within me.

I wonder what Anne is doing now?

A sigh escaped me. I knew she didn’t return my feelings. She didn’t even like me as a friend.

I’m just not the guy for her. And I need to be content with that.

After all, it's not like I'm the hero of a fairy tale.

With that last melancholy thought, I fell asleep, my hands still clutching the book of fairy tales.

…

…

…

And I remembered.

I remembered everything.

I was the higher-level being Adonis. Hero of the universe. Cast aside by Bel. Banished to a lower realm.

And now I was powerless.

Helpless.

Nothing.

THIS ISN’T RIGHT!!! THIS ISN’T ME!!! I AM SPECIAL. I AM MEANT FOR GREATNESS!

I AM THE HERO!

I woke up, shaking in terror and agony. My trembling hands clutched my sweat soaked face. And in the dull light of the sunrise streaming through the window into my bare and empty apartment…. I screamed.

I tried to hold onto my memories, but I could already feel them fading away. I would once again become Adler, the pencil pushing nobody who read fantasy books and nursed a silent crush on a woman at work who already had a boyfriend.

Until night came again. And I remembered once more.

This was my punishment.

This was my hell.

My only solace was that in this lower realm I was mortal. I would grow old. I would eventually die. And I would be free from this wretched existence.

My memories grew foggy, confused.

I thought of my mother, of my promise to her to be the hero of her story book. I thought of Arabella, of her bright smile that I fell in love with. I thought of Bel, our adventures, and her triumph over fate.

And I hated them all.

“NOOOOOO!” My anguished cry tore through the apartment, but there was no one around to hear it.

“I AM THE HERO!!! THEY ARE NOTHING!” I tried to scramble out of the bed, desperate to run away, to escape.

“I AM THE HERO!!!” I fell to my knees, my thoughts becoming vague.

“I AM… THE… HERO!” I desperately held onto the word. I knew it was important.

“I…. AM….”

I blinked, feeling confused.

“What was I saying?”  Wiping my forehead, I grimaced as it came away with a cold sweat. “Must have had a nightmare.”

I stood up, heading to the bathroom to shower. I had a long day of work ahead of me. I had several reports due soon, and maybe… just maybe… I could catch a glimpse of Anne when I passed by on my lunch break.

As I walked towards the shower, I caught sight of my face in the mirror, and came to a stop. As I stood there, staring into my own eyes, I felt the strangest urge to scream.

But it quickly passed and I went back to getting ready for my day.

“Hopefully tonight I sleep better.” I muttered to myself, looking away and closing the door behind me.

I didn’t want to be late to work.

[steddieas-shegoes]

"okay, but in my defense, you shouldn't have left me alone." - Eddie 'no impulse control' Munson

I absolutely love this and I think this should be on his gravestone tbh

Government money was great, but it was a little overwhelming to know so much money was sitting in his bank account.

If Wayne hadn't gotten his own to buy a new house, he would have given most of it to him so he could retire, but Wayne wouldn't allow it.

He bought a new guitar, bought another used van after his got taken in for evidence and couldn't be released, even bought himself Metallica tickets.

But that barely scratched the surface of what they gave him.

Steve used some of his to buy Robin a car (somehow in the mix, she'd only been given enough to cover medical bills from her very short visit to the ER) and enrolled in community college.

Steve would never buy something for himself unless it was necessary.

So, Eddie did it for him.

He used a pretty good decent chunk of money and bought him a house.

It was small, only two bedrooms, and on the outskirts of town.

It had a pool, thought a much smaller one than the Harrington house.

It also had a beautiful garden in the front, and plenty of places to put some lawn chairs for guests to hang out.

He blindfolded Steve the day after he closed on it, drove him to the house, and made him stand right in the middle of the road to look at it all.

He removed the blindfold.

Steve stared at the house.

"What's this? Did you buy a house?"

"I did."

"Well, it looks great. Do you need help decorating or moving?"

"The house isn't for me. No wait. It kind of us. I technically bought it for you, but was hoping I could live with you?"

Steve stared at the house again.

"You bought me a house."

"I bought us a house."

"What the hell?"

"In my defense, you shouldn't have left me alone with large amounts of money."

"I wasn't the one who did!"

"The government did. And now we have a house."

"I already have a house, Eds."

"But you hate it. It's too big. This is perfect."

Steve thought about it, Eddie could see him weighing every pro and con he could think of.

"Give me a tour of our house, then."

[duckprintspress]

Yeehaw! Queer Western Book Recs!

What’s the occasion? There is no occasion! We just thought it’d be fun to make a list of queer cowboy/girl/enby books and westerns! Say “Howdy, pardner” to our 8 picks. The contributors to this list are: Shadaras, Meera S., hullosweetpea, Nina Waters, boneturtle, and two anonymous contributors.

American Hippo (River of Teeth series) by Sarah Gailey

Years ago, in an America that never was, the United States government introduced herds of hippos to the marshlands of Louisiana to be bred and slaughtered as an alternative meat source. This plan failed to take into account some key facts about hippos: they are savage, they are fast, and their jaws can snap a man in two. 

By the 1890s, the vast bayou that was once America’s greatest waterway belongs to feral hippos, and Winslow Houndstooth has been contracted to take it back. To do so, he will gather a crew of the damnedest cons, outlaws, and assassins to ever ride a hippo. American Hippo is the story of their fortunes, their failures, and his revenge.

Done and Dusted (Rebel Blue Ranch series) by Lyla Sage

She’s off-limits, but he’s never been good at following the rules.

For the first time in her life, Clementine “Emmy” Ryder has no idea what she’s doing. She’s accomplished everything on her to-do list. She left her small hometown of Meadowlark, Wyoming; went to college; and made a career for herself by doing her favorite thing: riding horses. But after an accident makes it impossible for her to get back into the saddle, she has no choice but to return to the hometown she always wanted to escape.

Luke Brooks is Meadowlark’s most notorious bad boy, bar owner, and bachelor. He’s also the unofficial fifth member of the Ryder family. As Emmy’s older brother’s best friend, Luke spent most of his childhood antagonizing her. It’s been years since he’s seen her, but when she walks into his bar and back into his life, he can’t take his eyes off her. Despite his better judgment, he wants to do a whole lot more than just look at her.

Emmy’s got too much on her mind to think about romance. And Luke knows he should stay away from his best friend’s younger sister. But what if Luke is just what Emmy needs to get her spark back? Or will they both go up in flames?

Outlawed by Anna North

The day of her wedding, 17 year old Ada’s life looks good; she loves her husband, and she loves working as an apprentice to her mother, a respected midwife. But after a year of marriage and no pregnancy, in a town where barren women are routinely hanged as witches, her survival depends on leaving behind everything she knows.

She joins up with the notorious Hole in the Wall Gang, a band of outlaws led by a preacher-turned-robber known to all as the Kid. Charismatic, grandiose, and mercurial, the Kid is determined to create a safe haven for outcast women. But to make this dream a reality, the Gang hatches a treacherous plan that may get them all killed. And Ada must decide whether she’s willing to risk her life for the possibility of a new kind of future for them all.

Prize Money by Celeste Castro

Eva is saved from impending disaster by a tall, dark, and handsome bullfighter–a woman. Toma Rozene is an equestrian stuntwoman fresh off the set of a blockbuster film when a family emergency calls her home to help run the family business: rescuing fallen rodeo riders before blustering bulls and bucking broncos trample their dreams. Eva and Toma’s shared passions and competitive spirits make friendship easy, but, as their feelings deepen, they must decide if the divergent futures they seek will stand in the way of love.

Wake of Vultures (The Shadow series) by Lila Bowen

Nettie Lonesome lives in a land of hard people and hard ground dusted with sand. She’s a half-breed who dresses like a boy, raised by folks who don’t call her a slave but use her like one. She knows of nothing else. That is, until the day a stranger attacks her. When nothing, not even a sickle to the eye can stop him, Nettie stabs him through the heart with a chunk of wood and he turns to black sand.

And just like that, Nettie can see.

But her newfound sight is a blessing and a curse. Even if she doesn’t understand what’s under her own skin, she can sense what everyone else is hiding—at least physically. The world is full of evil, and now she knows the source of all the sand in the desert. Haunted by the spirits, Nettie has no choice but to set out on a quest that might lead her to find her true kin . . . if the monsters along the way don’t kill her first.

Trigun: Deep Space Planet Future Gun Action!! by Yasuhiro Nightow

Somehow the past has placed a sixty billion double dollar bounty on Vash’s head, and the gunslinging pacifist can’t seem to get away from money grubbing, itchy-trigger-finger citizenry. Find out why Vash is worth so much money dead! Feel the clumsy worry of the unfortunate citizens of the pulverous planet! Follow the follies of an unlikely hero in a forbidding world! Join Vash the Stampede – with his troubled past and an uncanny ability to dodge a gazillion bullets – and a cavalcade of unlucky characters on a dusty, desert planet in the distant future.

Frontera by Julio Anta

As long as he remembers to stay smart and keep his eyes open, Mateo knows that he can survive the trek across the Sonoran Desert that will take him from Mexico to the United States. That is until he’s caught by the Border Patrol only moments after sneaking across the fence in the dead of night.

Escaping their clutches comes at a price, and lost in the desert without a guide or water, Mateo is ill-prepared for the unforgiving heat that is sure to arrive come sunrise. With the odds stacked against him, his one chance at survival may be putting his trust in something, or rather someone, that he isn’t even sure exists.

If you’d asked him if ghosts were real before he found himself face-to-face with one, Mateo wouldn’t have even considered it. But now, confronted with the nearly undeniable presence of Guillermo, he’s having second thoughts. Having spent his afterlife guiding migrants to safety, Guillermo knows things about the Sonoran Desert far beyond what could be explained by a mere hallucination. But even as Mateo forms an uneasy partnership with Guillermo, survival is still uncertain.

The Sonoran Desert, with its hostile temperatures and inhabitants, is teeming with danger as the Border Patrol, rogue militias, and animals prowl its deadly terrain. As his journey stretches on, Mateo will have to decide exactly what and who he’s willing to sacrifice to find home.

Bitter Springs by Laura Stone

In 1870s Texas, Renaldo Valle Santos, the youngest son of a large and traditional family, has been sent to train with Henry “Hank” Burnett, a freed slave and talented mesteñero—or horse-catcher—so he may continue the family horse trade. Bitter Springs is a sweeping epic that takes themes from traditional Mexican literature and Old Westerns to tell the story of a man coming into his own and realizing his destiny lies in the wild open spaces with the man who loves him, far from expectations of society.

Bonus Recs:

Caravan by Whisperforge – audiodrama

First rule of Wound Canyon: No one who gets in, ever gets out. So when a brilliant, ghostly specter flies through the sky amid the rain and lightning, Samir stumbles off a steep cliff and into a hidden world, one in which demons, vampires, and all other manner of paranormal creatures take sanctuary. 

Second rule of Wound Canyon: No one makes it alone. Samir’s decided to tag along with Argeaux’s Caravan, a band of supernatural bounty hunters and vigilante peace-keepers. Together with an ever-expanding train of fantastical tagalongs, Samir and his new friends venture deep into the bowels of the canyon to find a way out of the magical boundary that imprisons all who cross it.

Cowboy Bebop – tv series

A ragtag crew of bounty hunters chases down the galaxy’s most dangerous criminals. They’ll save the world – for the right price.

What are your favorite gay cowboy books?

Want to chat your favorite reads with us? Join our Book Lover’s Discord server!

Love reading queer books? Our Queer Book Challenge is running on Storygraph through the end of 2024. Come join us!

[hockeywriterrowan]

Our Café || Nico Hischier

Nico Hischier x Reader

Word Count: 891

Warnings: none

The soft hum of the music and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the air in the small, cozy café tucked into Hoboken. The café was a haven for many, including you, the owner. Its warm, dimly lit interior and comfortable leather chairs offered patrons a cozy retreat where they could either delve into their studies or simply bask in the moment.

You stood behind the practically brand-new espresso machine, fingers dancing along the chrome buttons. While you had only owned your coffee shop for two years, you had worked in a small college-town bakery all through your teenage years into getting your business degree. It was safe to say you were a master, your espresso-making ritual being a finely choreographed performance. As you locked the portafilter into the machine’s group head, the rich, earthy scent rose into the air.

You took a deep breath as you pressed the button, the machine roaring to life. Watching the deep brown liquid flow from the machine’s spouts was easy. As you watched the espresso shot fill the small cup, you smiled. Even though you had done it for years, every cup was like a mini accomplishment in your day. 

You saw Nico silently staring at you from his table as you looked up. He came every day. You served the man with adorable dimples every day. You made the shortest of conversations with Nico every day. Of course, throughout the winter, he would be gone for several days; those days made you realize how much he was a part of your routine. They made you realize Nico's importance to your life without ever having a genuine conversation with him.

But you knew he was at away games. You have been to a couple of Devils games since making Hoboken your permanent home two years ago when you opened your coffee shop. The first day he came to the café, the day of its opening (before you even had to hire employees), Nico came in. Since then, he had always come when most customers were at work.

You carefully placed the espresso on a small plate with a glass of ice water and pain au chocolat. You presented it to Nico’s table, “Hello! Here’s your espresso, Nico.”

“Thank you so much, Y/N.”

He took a moment to appreciate the look of the dark liquid. He looked up and smiled. Every time you saw him smile at you, your own lips would also turn slightly upward, just as they did the first day he came in. You gave a small smile back and returned to the counter.

As you cleaned around the counters, you thought about Nico. In the past two years, he had brought several of his teammates. It was clear how much he loved them. He would always pay for his teammates. When Jack was boisterously laughing, Nico would smile. You had never seen someone care for their friends as much as him.

—

As people came in after work, Nico left. Because your employees came in to start their shifts with the busier afternoons, your last job before leaving (with them to close up later) was to pick up tables. Nico’s table was the only one for you to worry about. As you picked up the small plate he had left behind, you noticed a small piece of paper.

“I know you’re only doing busy work. You should sit and chat with me tomorrow.”

He added a little smiley face at the end. You smiled, slipping the note into the back pocket of your jeans. 

As your shift ended, you kept smiling softly. You kept thinking about Nico’s smile. Thinking about his friendly mannerisms to a fan he once met before entering your café. Thinking about the way he kept his table always so neat.

You were excited about the prospect of being his friend.

— 

Nico walked in on Saturday wearing his usual sweatshirt and shorts, but his smile showed particularly bright that day.

“Hello, Nico!”

“Hello! One espresso, one vanilla latte, and two pain au chocolat, please!”

Your smile slightly faltered as you typed it in. Who else was he ordering for? Nico continued smiling and kept his eyes on you, and when you looked back up at him, you softly smiled back. 

As you started making the latte, you frowned. You thought that the note was Nico trying to get to know you. Did he have someone who he wanted you to meet? When you finished the latte to go and make the espresso, you saw Nico with his phone down and looking at you. His eyebrows were scrunched, but he shifted his eyes as soon as he noticed you looking back.

You finished the espresso, warmed up the pain au chocolat you made that morning, and walked out from behind the counter. He smiled at you, carrying the larger tray, setting down Nico’s usual on his side of the table and the other part of his order on the other side. 

You turned around with the tray, but before fully turning around, Nico spoke up, “Aren't you going to sit?”

“Oh,” you turned back around, finally realizing that Nico got the latte and pain au chocolat for you. 

Nico laughed but didn’t want to embarrass you, so he asked, “Why did you decide to open the café?"

[gravestrain]

we don't have to talk about it; b. boeser

Well I wasn't sure if this would be done in time, but it is and it is probably the most proud I have ever been of a piece of writing I've made. I did not get a perfect bingo but I chose trade angst, friends to lovers, playlists as a love language, "it's always going to be you," and summer romance. This is some sickly sweet soulmates fluff accompanied by some sickly sweet playlists. There is a bit of NSFW mentions towards the begin but no actual smut. For this reason, 18+ readers only please ☺️

Happy birthday sweet Demi @wyattjohnston! 💖 I am so lucky to be in this community with you and wanted to write you something in return for all you do for our community of hockeyblr writers.

I want to preface this by saying that this is probably a slightly unrealistic version of Brock, and that is okay. This is a work of fiction. Do I think Brock listens to boygenius? Definitely not. But for the sake of this story, he would. As always, I did some research for this fic and so the programs at both UND and UBC that Harper completes are real programs/degrees!

Also; this is the inspiration picture I had for Harper's tattoo (photo from Pinterest). If it isn't clear in the story, I imagine Harper to have a lot of tattoos. I imagine her having a lot of small tattoos all over her body. Additionally, I tried my best to give Harper no other physical descriptors other than her having tattoos, so you all have the freedom to imagine her in any way that you possibly could want to, which I think is a beautiful thing. She/her pronouns are used. 2.6k words plus 3 small playlists ☺️

~~~~~~~

"We don't have to talk about it," Harper whispered to Brock as she slipped out from under his arm, the warm covers forcefully removed from his body. Brock shuddered at the implications of that.

His best friend. His lifeline, his biggest supporter. Somehow, he had ended up in bed with her, swollen lips and hair astray. He wondered if it meant absolutely everything to her, the way it did to him. He wondered if she would lay up for days, trying to forget the way her lips felt on his, the smell of her hair, the curl of her fingers around his.

"He's just lost," Harper told her best friend Amelie that weekend over cocktails. She was convinced that Amelie's eyes were going to pop out of her head when Harper whispered to her that she had ended up in bed with her childhood best friend. "Harper, I don't know how you can say that. It's your best friend, for Christ's sake. This isn't just anybody. Everyone in Vancouver is dying to get where you just were." Amelie ranted to Harper, trying to relay the implications of what the two of them had done. "Things between you two may never be the same." She exasperated and Harper rolled her eyes.

"Please, he is just overwhelmed. He feels very out of his element with the trade rumors and just wanted some safety and normalcy. It's not like it was romantic. Trust me, there was no aftercare or lit candles or rose petals." Harper sighed dramatically and Amelie tried to pretend like she believed her. Meanwhile, Harper tried to forget what it felt like when his fingers ghosted through her hair afterwards, when he brought her water and wiped her down gently. She tried to forget the way her heart beat out her chest at the way he held her afterwards. That she had to force him to let her go. Amelie shook her head and sipped her cocktail, wondering if Harper was foolish enough to think that she believed her.

Brock was avoiding Harper. That much was obvious. It would be more obvious if Harper wasn't doing the same thing to Brock. It had been a week since they slept together with no contact, probably the longest since their only real fight in freshman year of college when Brock left for an out of town game without saying bye to Harper. If Harper had known better when she slipped into bed after too many cocktails that night with Amelie, she would have stopped herself from opening one of her biggest secrets.

Harper had been making monthly playlists of Brock for as long as she could remember. In her Spotify, they go back to 2018. She thinks it was from the only time in their life when they were separated, when Harper was finishing her degree at UND and Brock was playing across the continent in Vancouver. It was a piece of her that she had always loved to do. It felt like a sacred part of their friendship, despite Brock knowing nothing about it.

If the amaretto sours weren't fogging her brain over, she would've done a double take at sending Brock her playlist titled "Brock: May 2023." But she didn't. She just sent it.

Brock was in bed, trying to fall asleep for the night when his ringtone for Harper went off. He shot up in bed, the reality of not talking to her for a week setting in. He scrambled for his phone, and found the playlist attached with a simple message: "I miss you." He was sure that she was out drinking with Amelie, just like they did one Saturday every month. With no judgement, he remembered that she had already gone out for their get together this month, but that was the last thing on his mind as he clicked on the playlist.

The playlist had a cover, just as all of hers did. A picture of Brock smiling wide after a game that he remembered her taking at the beginning of the month. He knew the ignoring was mutual, but his heart started to sink when he thought of just how much it could have been affecting her.

"I miss you more," he replied back without even clicking on the playlist. When he did, he found out that he didn't recognize many of the songs, but they would soon become the soundtrack to the rest of May for him. The dark screen of Spotify glared up at him, the tracks listed:

cool about it by boygenius

Graceland Too by Phoebe Bridgers

Radio by Lana Del Rey

Cornelia Street by Taylor Swift

Labyrinth by Taylor Swift

I saw you in a dream by the Japanese House

Brock simply pressed play on the playlist and let it hum him to sleep, his heart constricting at the way that the songs related to them and how they made him feel.

~~~

Harper knew Brock like the back of her hand. She knew what made him smile and what made him front. She knew what made him feel proud and what bruised his ego. Naturally, she knew what kind of music he would like to listen to. And she knew that Brock had probably never willingly turned on a song from any of the artists that were featured on the May playlist. But she knew him. And she knew what he needed to hear.

So when he sent her a picture of the lyric "you know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back, just like that" from Labyrinth by Taylor Swift, she didn't flinch when she soon saw the caption that went with it: "how do you know exactly what I need to hear. I don't think I've ever related to a lyric more." She smiled at their affinity for each other. She was however surprised, when a Spotify link of his own came through.

Titled: Harper, May 2023.

not strong enough by boygenius

Cleopatra by the Lumineers

End of Beginning by Djo

Don't Give Up on Me by Zach Bryan

The Archer by Taylor Swift

"I see I've inspired a bit of your music taste," Harper responded with a cheeky smile. She was certain that he had never heard a boygenius song before she sent him one. "You see right through me," he responded back cheekily, her cheeks burning. Harper stared at the playlist in awe when she realized that he was in fact referring to The Archer. Before she could even think twice about it, she was drafting an email to her tattoo artist about getting the tattoo for "The Archer" that she had been wanting for months.

It seemed that a week after that conversation, with few in between, that Brock was also doing things before he could think twice about them. When he had started the trek home from his night out with the guys, they all did a double take when he asked Quinn to drop him at Harper's. He hadn't told anyone besides Petey about their sleeping together, but they could all tell that something was going on between the two childhood best friends.

"Are you sure that's a good idea bud?" Elias asked, clapping his hand on his best friend's shoulder. He knew the status of the friendship at that point and he could also recognize that Brock was beyond intoxicated. "Yeah, we're good now. Just a blip. She's expecting me." He smiled his most convincing smile at Elias and he seemed to fall for it. "Alright bud, well if she throws you out screaming give me or Quinner a call and we can take you back to your place?" He offered and Brock nodded, his feet carrying him quickly towards the door. At this point, Brock was eagerly trying to make his way to his best friend who he hadn't seen in weeks. It had now been almost three weeks since they had seen each other. Brock was soon to be heading home to Minnesota, and Harper would soon be following him. He would wait until the school year was over so he could help Harper pack up and move back home.

It was never Harper's plan to follow Brock to Vancouver, but once she followed him to UND, it seemed inevitable. It became glaringly obvious that the two of them could simply not live without each other. When Harper graduated with her bachelors in Communication Sciences and Disorders, she had already been accepted into the University of British Columbia's Masters program for Audiology and Speech Sciences. After two years in this program, Harper graduated, and got her dream job as a speech pathologist in a high school not far from her apartment.

When she first let Brock know of her plans, he was living with a teammate. He insisted that he could get out of the lease and that he wanted to live with her so that she wasn't by herself. Harper had already found another girl in the same program study as her that she would live in a nicer apartment with. She was lucky that she never had to worry about money. Both of her parents had good paying jobs, and they always supported her choice to be with Brock in Vancouver, seeing as Harper's mom's best friend is Brock's mom.

Brock made the familiar descent up to the 4th floor to Harper's apartment, typing in the code and letting himself in. It was just past 1. Harper liked to stay up late, and her roommate Carmen had gone back home to Edmonton for the summer, meaning he knew he was okay sneaking in this late.

"Harps?" He called out, heading towards her bedroom. He slowly opened the door and found her laying on her side in her bed. Her bedside lamp was still on, letting him know that she had just dozed off and hadn't actually fallen asleep for the night. Brock's eyes furrowed in on the angry red skin that lined the obviously new tattoo that she was sporting on the back of her left upper arm. A bow and arrow, with ivy detailing now adorned her arm. Small cursive words were also laced within the bow. Brock couldn't make them out from where he was standing, but he didn't have to to know that they were something from the Taylor Swift song. His heart constricted at the mere thought of that, that something that they had shared amongst each other was now permanently on her body. It would be with her for the rest of her life.

As the soft pads of his fingertips reached out to touch it, Harper shot awake, startled by the sudden touch. "Just me, honey," he rasped out. "You scared the shit out of me," she gasped, rolling over to face him but careful not to put too much pressure on the new ink she was sporting. "What are you doing here?" She mumbled, eyes squinting to adjust to the lamp light.

"I can't do this anymore," he sighed as he sat on the end of her bed. "I love you, Harper. And I want everyone to know it. I want you to know it." He confessed. Her eyes widened, sitting up to move towards him. "You're drunk." She muttered, not making eye contact with him. She knew how this would end. She had imagined it so many times, a scenario where she was able to be with her best friend, as she had wanted for so long. But they all ended the same way all of her past relationships ended: heartbreak, agony, trauma.

"I am, but I know I love you more than I could ever begin to express. You are the center of my world. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved." His hands were now holding her own, his soft eyes pleading with hers as he reached out to touch her palm. "It's always going to be you, Harper. In every universe. Just tell me you love me and everything will be okay." His blue eyes stared into her own with more passion than she could ever comprehend. Tears welled up in her eyes, and all she could think to do was lean in and kiss Brock with all the love she had had for him since she was 16 years old.

Now at 26, as she held onto him, his steady heartbeat anchoring her to sleep under her ear, she wondered if it could have always been so easy, to love her best friend whole heartedly, and that he would love her the exact same way back. When she felt his fingertips brushing her shoulders gently, a soft hum of "Landslide" by Fleetwood Mac coming from his lips, a late addition to her "Brock: May 2023" playlist, she realized she was wrong all along. Being with Brock would never lead her to heartbreak, agony, and trauma. It was Brock. Her Brock. Gentle, warm, soft as a blanket Brock. When he wrapped his arms around her, and she finally felt her lips on his once again, she realized her doubts were always just that: doubts. And with a sweep of his thumb across her cheek, they both pulled back, looking at each other and wondering if they'd feel happiness like this forever.

_____

3 months later

"You guys are absolutely disgusting," Quinn grumbled in fake agony at Brock and Harper who were cuddled up on the couch outside on the patio, watching the sunset at Brock's family lake house. "At least you don't have to share a wall with them!" Petey groaned, causing Brock to shove his shoulder. "You two should just be happy that you don't have to share a room anymore." He tried to deflect but it only caused more bickering from the two, finger pointing about who snored louder and how last summer Quinn took one too many turns sleeping on the bed and Petey had to sleep on the floor an extra night.

Harper snuggled deeper into Brock's shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent. She pulled the blanket up to puddle around her hips: Brock always ran warm, and she always ran cold, so the blanket never came anywhere near him. She reached up to brush a small piece of hair out of Brock's face as she chucked and Elias and Quinn's antics. There was nothing like enjoying the lake with Brock and their loved ones.

Of course she had spent countless days here with Brock. Many people had come through the front door and experienced the magic of the Boeser family lake house and all the memories and warmth that comes with it. But there was truly nothing like this feeling of warmth, joy, the feeling of home. She wondered if she would ever be as happy as she is in this current moment, this current summer.

When she looked up at the man next to her, the man of her dreams, she knew she would always be that happy. He was mid sentence when she couldn't resist the burning urge to kiss her lover on the cheek, leaning up to snuggle into his neck, her cold hands reaching under his sweatshirt, causing him to shiver.

"Could you guys be any more disgustingly cute? Makes me sick," Quinn muttered, taking a sip of his beer. "Yes," the two of them muttered simultaneously. Quinn and Elias just laughed, shaking their hands at the response. They knew the answer, and it wasn't that they really minded. They loved Harper and loved that Brock was happy and not embarrassingly pining after his best friend anymore.

Harper began humming along with "Sad Songs for Sad People" by Megan Moroney, one of her favorites for the month. Now that they were dating, the playlists were still made monthly, which some slight changes. They were now titled "Brock and Harper" with the month and year accompanying it, their two profile pictures snuggled up next to each other at the top. The cover photos were now pictures of the perfect couple.

At this point it was Brock who couldn't resist placing a soft kiss on his lover's lips. As they cuddled together, they both knew that they could never replicate the first summer at the lake as an official couple, but as long as they were together, the happiness, the magic, the joy of that first summer would last forever.

Brock and Harper, August 2023

Sad Songs for Sad People by Megan Moroney

All of the Girls You Loved Before by Taylor Swift

Grapejuice by Harry Styles

Golden Hour by Kacey Musgraves

Since We're Alone by Niall Horan

Lady May by Tyler Childers

Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift

I Hate Love Songs by Kelsea Ballerini

Bad for Business by Sabrina Carpenter

Starting Over by Chris Stapleton

[tirsynni]

As someone who was raised in a military family, whose family is from a military-esque town, Veteran's Day always makes me twitch a bit, not just because of the holiday but because of people's responses to it.

My dad's family came from a poor, small town. A high percentage -- especially from my dad's generation -- joined the military because they were poor, the military offered them money, and they thought it was their best choice. One relative joined because he knew it was that or being drafted. At least voluntarily joining gave him choices. Later, people from my generation joined the military for the same exact reason: they were poor, their prospects were few, and the military recruiters were happily knocking at their door, offering them options they didn't otherwise have.

"They willingly joined the military and they willingly bombed/shot innocent people!" I promise you, that never occurred to many of them. They were young. They were in survival mode. They looked at their future and saw very little. Then this military guy knocks on their door and offers them poisoned hope. They usually know it's poisoned, but it gives them some sort of hope for a future, especially when the opportunity for education is tossed in the bucket. Many people only obtained a college degree because of the military.

My mother was a military spouse. She couldn't keep a job. My dad's job was more important. If she got a job, she would lose it when we had to move to a different state. Same for education, fyi. This was before online schools.

My mother had very few friends. All of them were also military spouses. It honestly formed an unhealthy circle after a point. Most adults form friends through their work. Obviously, not an option. Physical activities? Again, probably going to get dropped in the next move. Few opportunities to make friends and fewer opportunities to keep them.

Every couple years, we moved. The military provided housing, but that meant they chose the house. The location. The school district. Our education, friendships, everything were guaranteed to be messed up every several years. I started speech therapy in one state and had to stop it in the next move. I still have problems with my speech. There was no consistency. We were told that it was our problem.

My dad was deployed once overseas. We were left in the States. When he returned, he was absolutely traumatized because he said that I looked at him and didn't recognize him. There was no Zoom or anything then. He swore that he would never accept another deployment. At his 18-year mark, he was given the choice: deploy again or accept an early retirement. He took the early retirement.

There was no aid afterwards. After 18 years in the military, with us kids being born and raised in the military and on military bases, we now had to figure out civilian life. Years later, we're still figuring out the extent of how much that messed us up. Hint: it was a lot.

I'm anti-military, pro-veteran, because the military loves targeting the poor, the young, and the vulnerable, going after specific communities, and then leaving their people to hang after they drained them of everything they could. Yeah, some people are asshats who joyously cuddle their guns and dream of glory and shooting people, but many -- most -- are vulnerable people who were targeted when they were 17 or so, who had few hopes for their future, who weren't old enough to drink but were told they were old enough to die for their country... and hey, if they fulfilled their contracts, Uncle Sam would even give them a degree for it! Isn't that nice!

[pickledpascal]

Bewitched

Chapter One: Who Is She?

Warnings: mentions of murder, hating on cops a lil bit (deserved)

Word Count: 2.5k

Bewitched Masterlist

Next Chapter |

Beau Arlen stepped out of his beloved truck, Pedro, and took a glance at his surroundings. He parked just outside Dewell and Hoyt Investigation Agency as he usually did after Denise gave him a meal to take home with him. This time it was vegan stuffed peppers. He wasn't sure how it was vegan, it tasted a lot like meat but wasn't. Somehow. He grabbed the dish out of his passenger seat and then looked around to make sure he wouldn't accidentally bump into someone. 

His lips parted when he saw a woman walking in his direction. She wore all black—a long skirt, sweater, shoes, socks, and a brimmed hat—the only thing that wasn't jet black were her earrings. They were silver and dangled below her chin. Her hair was what caught Beau’s attention, jet black with a section of it dyed blonde in the front of her face. Her olive skin gave him an indication of her ancestry. Beau wanted to get a better look at her first.

Before he could even think to try to walk up to her and ask her name, she disappeared inside a café just a few storefronts away. 

Beau took a breath, shaking the mystery woman from his thoughts as he entered the office. He smiled as he saw Denise. No Cassie or Jenny. Jenny was likely at work already. “Hey! Dewell out?” He greeted as he handed over Denise’s cookware. It was cleaned so well that it shined in the overhead lights.

“Yeah, new case and all that.” Denise smiled as she took the dish and set it on the side of her desk, away from important papers and things but close enough that she wouldn't forget it when she went home. 

Beau sat at the edge of Cassie’s desk, facing Denise. He tapped his fingertips on the desk and pursed his lips. “I, uh, saw this girl outside,” He began. If anyone knew who she was, it was likely Denise. “Wore all black. That's not too common around here, is it?” 

Denise had a knowing look in her eyes, letting out a small laugh. “No, not at all. You must be talking about Kiera. She's our town goth.” She hummed as she organized a few papers for Cassie to look at when she came back. “She's originally from New York. A single mom and her child is,” She paused. “She's interesting. She got pregnant young, I think. She's twenty-six, her daughter is seven.” 

Beau hummed as he took in the information. In all his years in Texas, he encountered quite a lot of different kinds of people. For some reason, he never saw a goth walk on the streets of Houston throughout his life. Maybe there were, he just never saw one. He wanted to get to know her. She had easily captured his interest without getting a proper look at her.

“I also think she's a lawyer.” Denise's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. “I see her going into a local firm a lot but I'm not a hundred percent sure.”

Well, shit. 

Apparently, Beau had quite a thing for lawyers. Carla was one and he was interested in a few pre-law students in his college years.

Beau let out a sigh as he exited the office, trying to catch a glimpse of Kiera yet again but it seemed she was either still in the café or had left this part of town. He needed to get to work anyway. 

For the first time in a few months, the station had nothing big going on. No missing backpacker somehow connected to a decades-long cold case. Jenny’s mom was in custody. Tonya and Donno seemed relatively tame. For the time being. Beau had decided to stay as sheriff, deciding the change of scenery would be nice. Even if it was connected to a hell of a lot of stuff he wanted to forget about in the long run. 

Unfortunately for him, that meant Jenny had more time to flirt with him. Which was fun at first. When he reciprocated. He realized, in the long run, that he liked Jenny better as a friend. Yet he hadn't said that out loud to her. 

Early one morning, Beau went to the café he saw Kiera enter. He wanted to check it out. And if she just so happened to be there then that'd be a plus. There was a mix of people inside. Young and old. Different races. The café itself was cozy with an array of furniture, loveseats, armchairs, mismatched tables, and vintage posters—framed and unframed—tacked onto the walls. The smell of freshly baked goods hit his nose as his gaze found the display case and front counter. How did he miss this place? Beau had been on the hunt for a nice café to drop by before work for a while. 

In front of the counter was Kiera. Still in all black but this time she wore loose jeans, platform boots that made her quite a few inches taller than Beau, and a leather jacket with an array of multi-colored patches sewn on.

She noticed him when he stepped closer. She lifted her head and gave him a small smile, stepping away. She motioned for him to go ahead of her. “Sorry. I'm just waiting for my coffee.” 

Beau was blown away. Her cheekbones were well-defined, as was her jaw, her cupid's bow wasn't as well-defined so her top lip was more ovular. What astonished him more were the spikes peeking out from her nostrils, her dusky eyes, her hair that was pulled back into two long braids, and the heavy, dark eyeliner on her eyes. He had never seen a lawyer quite like her. 

“No, uh, I'm new here,” Beau recovered as quickly as he could. He knew he was staring. He shifted his eyes to the menu. “Anything you recommend?” 

Kiera glanced down at the badge on Beau’s hip then looked into his eyes. He could tell there was an internal battle going on inside her. He was oblivious as to why. “I like the chai lattes. But you seem like a black coffee sort of guy.” Her tone was clipped, weary. 

“You'd be right about that. My daughter can't believe it, she drinks coffee that's almost white and calls me weird. Sometimes I can't believe she's my kid. Looks a lot more like her mother.” Beau laughed. He could chat anyone's ear off if he really wanted to. “What about pastries? They all look so good.” 

Kiera looked at Beau weirdly, skepticism in her eyes. “The raspberry and cream cheese croissant is pretty good.” 

Her name was called. She quickly grabbed her coffee and left the café, not sparing Beau a second glance. 

The officer let out a sigh. That didn't go how he planned. Kiera was standoffish and he couldn't exactly place why. 

Beau ordered what she recommended and didn't dig in until he made it to his office and sat at his desk. He let out a hum of satisfaction at his first sip of the latte. It was more sugary than what he was used to but it was delicious nonetheless. It went down his throat smoothly and sent warmth throughout his body. The croissant had a similar effect. Flakey crumbs fell on his desk but it was too delicious for him to stop and clean them off. The soft crunch, the velvety cream, the tart raspberry jam. It became apparent why Kiera frequented that café. He was having an out-of-body experience in the solitude of his office spurred on by a simple pairing of a chai latte and an immaculately made croissant.

Yeah, Beau would go there every morning. Not just to see Kiera. 

“Woah, boss,” Poppernack walked into Beau’s office, an astonished look in his eyes. He had never seen his desk so messy before. Beau usually liked to keep it clean, no matter if he ate on it.

Beau coughed, wiping his face with a napkin as he gathered the crumbs in his hand to throw them away at the trash can next to his desk. “Yeah, Pop?” He asked with his signature smile. 

“Uh, just wanted to let you know there's a new case that might need your attention.” Mo explained, a case file in his hands. 

Beau tilted his head. “Might?” He held his hand out to take the file and flipped through it. Mo watched nervously. After everything that happened with Emily, Beau wanted to take a step back from going out in the field. At least, he didn't want to do it often. But there was an occasional case that called for the head Sheriff. “God, Poppernack, maybe bring this to my attention earlier?” He sighed. 

It wasn't anything too crazy. Just a double homicide but the trail had gone cold after a few weeks. Beau wanted to let his deputies do the work, trusting them enough to do so, however, they weren't perfect. They made mistakes, looked at the wrong places, saw the wrong things, and made bad calls.

“Hey, Em,” Beau hummed as he closed the door to his truck and walked up onto his porch. He didn't solve the case from earlier but they did get a lead. He adjusted his phone a little as he opened up his Airstream. “How's your day?”

“Fine, midterms are coming up and that sucks but mom got me a slice of cake to cheer me up since I started studying.” He could imagine Emily shrugging. Beau had a fond smile on his face as he listened. “What about yours? Catch any bad guys?”

Beau let out a chuckle as he heated some leftovers and leaned against the counters to his small kitchen. “No, no, not today. But, I–uh–saw this girl.” He admitted softly. It was hard to be open with Emily, especially with everything that happened in Houston, but he wanted to try. And he knew Emily thought he was lonely. 

Truthfully, he was. Jenny, Cassie, and Denise were nice friends but it wasn't exactly what he was looking for. Beau longed for someone like Carla again. Someone to share his life with. 

“Oh? Like a crush?” Emily's voice teased. 

“Yeah,” Beau made his way back outside to sit on his porch with a bowl in his hand. “She’s really pretty but, I dunno, she seemed skeptical of me. I know I'm a big guy but I didn't think I gave off mean guy vibes.” He took a bite from his bowl as it balanced on his thigh. Talking with Emily like this was the highlight of his day. 

Emily let out a snort. “You don't. But you're a cop. Not everyone likes cops.” She reminded softly. 

Beau pursed his lips. She was right. He wasn't sure why he didn't think of it earlier. Beau could be an oblivious man sometimes. He was a cop. Sheriff of the county at that. And he never went anywhere without his badge attached to his belt. Unless it was a weekend and he specifically took time off. 

“Out of curiosity, what ethnicity is she?” 

Beau sucked at his teeth. “Native American.” Kiera’s features clued him in on that fact. 

“Well, there you go. Even more of a reason she doesn't trust cops,” Emily laughed softly. She had a point. “Don't worry, though, if you keep pushing—which I know you will—she’ll see you're not bad. Just take it slow.”

Beau smiled softly as he looked down at his bowl, it was nearly empty. “Why are you giving me dating advice? Shouldn't it be the other way around?” 

“I wanna see you happy, Dad,” Emily admitted softly. “And I wanna help you get there. I know…” She went silent for a second. “Avery was mom’s second chance. And it didn't end well but she was happy. For the first time in a while. I want you to have your second chance.” She sighed. 

Beau closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He rubbed his forehead and listened to Emily's breath on his phone’s speaker. “I love you.” He murmured.

“I love you too, dad.” Emily immediately returned. “I have to get to sleep or else mom will yell at me about not having a proper sleep schedule. Talk tomorrow?” 

Beau nodded even though she couldn't see him. “‘Course, kiddo. G’night.”

“Night.” 

As the line died, Beau’s phone fell to his lap. He bit the inside of his cheek as he stared up at the starry night sky. The forest around him made a few noises, like the rustling of trees or hops of insects, otherwise, it was silent. 

And Beau was alone.

His eyes shifted down to his lap. There was something about Kiera. Even Emily knew it and she hadn't seen her before. She was Beau's second chance. The only woman Beau had shown an interest in for a while. The only problem was he'd have to try. Kiera wouldn't just fall into his lap because he said hello to her every morning. He'd have to put in the work. 

He didn't expect anything less. 

From what Beau heard from Denise, Kiera had a complicated life. A single mother, young, and moved all the way out to Montana which must've been a shocking change from living in New York for most of her life. Unusual. For the short amount of time Beau had lived in Helena, he gathered that most people just liked to blend in and not draw too much attention to themselves. Unfortunately, Kiera had—unknowingly or knowingly—drawn a target on her back because she didn't fit in. Her all-black attire and tall height were enough for anyone to have to do a double take at her but then there was her Native ancestry. 

Montana was no stranger to Native people since there were plenty of reservations around but it was the icing on the cake for Kiera. No wonder she was hesitant around him. Beau hoped he could change that. He was a good person who tried his best to keep his deputies in line, even if it cost him his job in the end. So far, it hasn't. 

Taking a breath, Beau retreated into his airstream for the night and set his bowl in the sink. 

Tomorrow was another day. Another day to try to become friends with Kiera. At the very least, he could try that before anything else. Beau knew he was easy to be friends with even if the person was a little cold towards him at first. A few citizens were like that when they first met. Others stood their ground but that was because they were on the receiving end of handcuffs. Beau couldn't care less if those people hated him. 

However, Kiera was a lawyer. What kind, Beau didn't know. She had to believe in the law to some capacity if that's what she was doing. Maybe he could appeal to that somehow… Or just be himself. 

Yeah, Emily always said he was better off as himself and not playing the hero all the time. She liked Beau as a hero, he was her hero, but he needed saving every now and then too.

------

taglist: @deans-spinster-witch

taglist open here !!!!

[wolfsnis]

Clover (7/4/09-6/28/24)

I had to put down my beloved cat Clover yesterday. He was about a week shy of his 15th birthday.

He had been having "teeth issues" about two years now, but hindsight is 20/20 and it was probably the cancer growing in his jaw all along. But we didn't know until this year, in April. Then he got some badly infected teeth removed and we thought that was the end of it, but about two weeks later we realized the vet's original prediction was correct. We suspected the cancer also spread to his brain, as his behavior got increasingly erratic in the last two weeks. On the 27th the tumor caused his jaw to break which pretty much inhibited him from eating and drinking. It was the right call to put him down, but it still absolutely destroyed me. I don't know if I will ever be the same.

We picked him and his sister up as newborns from the family farm. His mom gave birth to them during a flash flood so they had to be inside. My parents said they had a third sibling (probably the runt) that didn't make it, I don't remember tho. I won't upload them here for obvious reasons but there's pictures of me when I was five or so holding him when he was just a few days old. We didn't even have carriers when we took them home, me and my brother carried them in our arms the entire time. Definitely not safe now that I think about it.

He had been with me throughout my life. When I came home from school he would be meowing at the door to greet me. I could never sneak around at night without him joining me (and often being very loud while doing it, he was a very talkative cat) he loved people food and would regularly jump up on the dinner table to "join" us for dinner. If you left your meal unattended for a moment he would snatch it up. He liked to drink the milk out of the cereal bowls. We had to cover the sink when we had meat unthawing because he would help himself. He would also frequently raid the pantry and eat uncooked pasta for some reason. He had such a silly meow too, possibly the most masculine-sounding cat I've ever heard. I swear he could say some words like "mom" and "hello" when he wanted to. He was a smart little guy, so maybe. He was a surprisingly fearless cat too, one of the few I've ever met who wasn't afraid of the vacuum. He straight up did not give a fuck. One of my favorite activities was to wake him up while he was napping just to see him look at me all disgruntled and then settle back down. I don't know why, but it always made me smile. He also really loved the outdoors, despite the fact we never let him outside until the end. He had a very high prey drive and attempted to take down a magpie until the magpie tried to take him down, lol. He was a very happy, active, and loving cat right up until his last day. So much so we went back and forth on putting him down.

He was a very charming cat, everyone who came by the house would comment on him. He was so full of personality and loud, he wanted to be involved in everything and that included social gatherings. People absolutely loved him. I had several friends joke that they would steal him from us. He made such an impact on people. He was so beloved. Maybe even a micro celebrity in my small town.

I was distraught last year when I had to move out for college. I demanded pictures of them every day I was away. When I did come home I loved watching him sniff me and then light up in excitement and meow when he realized I was back. I really hope he didn't think I abandoned him.

Saying goodbye to him yesterday was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. He's been such a huge part of my life for so long that the fact I have to go without him from now on feels like a foreign concept. I still don't know if I've fully processed the fact that he's really gone yet, if I think about it for too long I start to feel nauseous. I keep expecting him to round the corner and greet me or to hear him meowing when I close my bedroom door. My poor little buddy, I was really hoping you'd have a few years yet.

Rest easy my sweet boy. You were so much larger than life.

If you've read this far, thank you so much. Here's a gallery of him, bask in his greatness!

[rose-pearls]

Prompt - loving you was a mistake

Prompt: loving you has always been the biggest mistake, but never a regret. You knew Jake since you were kids but after some words are said you see each other years later only for him to realise what he lost

Jake had known you since you were little, running around and terrorizing everyone together. Your parents had been friends for a long time, and you were both born only a year apart so the two of you spent your younger years and teenage years together. 

Growing up you sticked together, helping each other with homework and trying to navigate through high school. Jake had always thought that nothing could break this friendship, you had been there for each other since the moment you met each other. He didn’t know why he never realized that it could be different for you.

He was ready to leave for flight school in three months, not going to college but immediately to the Navy, like he had always dreamed of. He had received his letter and couldn’t wait to tell you. You had still a year left of high school, but you were also thinking of joining the Navy making your parents roll their eyes fondly at the two of you following each other even in your career paths.

“You will never guess what I have here.”, he had barged into her bedroom, and she looked at him with an unimpressed look, but a fond smile could be seen.

“Common guess a little.”, she lets out a laugh before looking pensive and Jake knew she was doing it on purpose, but he couldn’t wait anymore.

“This is my acceptance letter for the Navy aka flight school.”, she looked surprised for a moment and read over the document that Jake gave her before a big grin appeared and she threw her arms around him.

“I’m so proud of you! I knew you would get in.”, Jake feels warm at the words, knowing that she is proud of him. 

“Leaving this place in three months from now and then I’m never coming back!”, he hadn’t seen the way she looked sad at his words, a frown appearing on her face, but he was just so glad to be leaving this small town and getting out of there.

“You will come to visit right? Otherwise, your parents will probably kill you.”, a teasing smile was on her face, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as Jake snorted.

“The Navy won’t let me come visit you know that first flight school then we get send on missions and then Top Gun.”, she looked a bit sad at the words and Jake felt bad, knowing she was still stuck here for a year.

“I’ll write you alright, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”, she let out a small laugh and Jake felt at ease.

“Now we are going out and celebrating!”, she seemed ready to argue but Jake wasn’t accepting that as he sends her in her bathroom to get ready.

They had gone to one of the bars that all the teenagers of the town went too, and Jake couldn’t wait to show everyone that he was going to the Navy. Kelsey, a girl that he had his eyes on since a long time was going to be there and he was ready to impress her. He hadn’t thought to much of how his best friend would feel as he went to the beautiful girl to flirt and try to get lucky. He knew that she was a bit of a mean girl, but she was just his type, and he wasn’t leaving town before having the opportunity to spend the night with her even if that means doing and saying things, he wasn’t proud of even years later.

“So, Jake. You spend time with that younger girl, right?”, Jake didn’t really pay attention to her words as he quickly nods, and she chuckles.

“I don’t understand why you stay with her; she is just weird. Always on her own or with you, people think that you stay with her out of pity.”, she sniggers a bit and Jake knew that he should’ve said something there, defend your honor and tell her to shove it but he was a horny teenager and wasn’t thinking straight with the few beers he had. But still, that didn’t excuse it.

“Yeah, our parents are friends so I kind of always have to be with her you know.”, it feels bad to say something like this, but it seems to do the trick and Kelsey comes closer, seemingly pleased with the answer as she smirks. 

“Well, you don’t have to anymore now.”, Jake doesn’t know what she means by that but as she looks around him, he turns around to see you right behind him looking stricken.

He tries to say something, but nothing gets out, you are looking at him betrayed with tears in your eyes and Jake wants to go to you, but he feels Kelsey put her hand on his arm and he feels sick. The moment you leave he springs into action and leaves Kelsey behind, trying to follow you as you nearly run through the door.

“Y/N please, wait.”, she leaves the bar and Jake manages to catch her arm, turning her around and he feels his heart break at the sight of her tears.

“I’m sorry, I-”, he didn’t know what to tell her, he couldn’t tell her that he did all of that just to sleep with a girl that he didn’t really know.

“You what Jake? You didn’t mean it? Then why did you say it back there?”, he felt desperate wanting to tell her that he never meant those words, but she was looking at him betrayed with tears in her eyes.

“You know I actually thought that you did care about me, but I guess it was all just a chore, right?”, she is pushing him now, probably wanting to get a reaction out of him, but he can’t say anything, words stuck in his throat.

“The worst part is that I wanted to tell you that I had feelings for you. And I stupidly thought that you would feel the same way.”, Jake felt all of the air leave his lungs as he watches her cry, and he wants to take her in his arms to console her, but she pushes him away making him feel sick.

He had never thought of her that way, always seen her as a best friend or even a sister. He had always thought of her as family but not as a girlfriend or more. He wishes he could, feel the same way as her and make everything better between them. But even if he did feel the same way he crossed an unforgivable line tonight and he didn’t know if she could ever forgive him.

“I’m sorry.”, it’s the only thing he manages to say, it’s weak and he can’t believe he even manages to get the words out. She lets out a heart wrenching sob and Jake feels his heart break at the sight.

She didn’t let him say anything else or try to stop her, he had to watch her leave and join her best friend as he felt his heart being wrenched out of his body as she leaves. He never knew that he could lose something so easily and how much it would hurt.

The next three months were lonely, they didn’t see each other anymore. He had tried to talk to her, but she refused, telling him to leave her alone. He left for flight school without his best friend, he lost everything in a few minutes and know he had nothing to lose anymore.

He saw her again years later for a special mission and it felt like he had just left her there that night, the only difference was that she had a bright smile and was sitting next to a blond guy with glasses. 

He didn’t know what to do, talk to her or not, would she want him to talk to her, but he was brought out of his choices by Phoenix asking what the blond guy’s name was. He wanted to snort at his callsign but then he saw the fond smile she sent him, and he felt sick at the sight. 

“So, you two know each other then Dove?”, Phoenix and her had met at Top Gun he had heard and the two became fast friends. 

“You could say that.”, a soft blush appeared on her cheeks and Jake felt like someone had ripped the air out of his lungs at her next words.

“Bob and I are dating.”, Phoenix immediately started asking questions and scolded Dove for not telling her sooner. 

Jake didn’t know what he was feeling, he knew that he had lost her that night, but it had always seemed like he had lost a sister or a best friend, he only realized now that he did have deeper feelings. He hadn’t understood these feelings back then and now they are coming back to haunt him as he looks at her looking at Bob with a loving gaze that used to be for him before he ruined everything.

At one point he saw her go outside and he followed her, wanting to talk to her, to hear her voice. She ended a phone call as he arrived, and he was guessing it was her parents calling to ask how she was doing.

“Jake?”, he must’ve been thinking too hard because she was looking at him with suspicious eyes. 

“Can I help you?”, he wanted to get closer to her and hug her but stayed where he was, knowing that it wasn’t his place anymore.

“I just – I wanted to see how you were doing?”, she seems surprised but looks at him with a sad smile.

“I’m doing good, how are you?”, he didn’t know how he was feeling, far too lost in his feelings.

“Me too, wondering what this mission is about.”, she furrows her brows at his response, and he guesses that she is also wondering what this special detachment was about.

“Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”, he nods slowly and tries to find something to say to her, not wanting to stop talking to her already.

“So, you and Bob huh.”, a blush appears on her cheeks, and she turns to look at the ocean, but he can’t stop looking at her.

“Yeah, it happened one day and I – I couldn’t be happier.”, Jake feels like he has been punched at her words and she turns to look at him with a soft smile.

“He’s a great guy, he was my WSO during one of my first missions and I thought he was going to be a cocky asshole telling me that a woman shouldn’t be in the Navy. But he just followed me in the F-18 and trusted me, never doubting me for a second and treating me like I was an equal. We got to know each other, and one thing led to another.”, she has a bright smile as she reminisces, and Jake feels his throat close up at the story.

“He seems great.”, he knows it sounds sarcastic, but he can’t help himself and judging by her sigh she still understands him.

“Jake, look we left things off the wrong foot, and we didn’t talk for a long time, but it helped, didn’t it? We grew up and I got to work on myself, and it made me realize things.”, Jake feels tears in his eyes, for the first times in years.

“What did you realize? Apart from me being an enormous dick.”, she let out a laugh and nods her head softly, but a sad smile appears once again.

“I realized that loving you had been the biggest mistake.”, he felt sick at her words like he was going to throw up. Hearing her say that it was a big mistake loving him, having feelings for him.

“But never a regret.”, she whispers softly and Jake takes a shaking breath at her words feeling a tear slip out and he feels her hand on his arm.

“It hurt that day, but ultimately it helped to realize that we were better off as friends or people that knew each other from their hometown. We wouldn’t have worked out Jake.”, he closes his eyes and wants to ask her how she knows that, that they wouldn’t have worked together but he can’t, because if he speaks, he will cry.

“I never regretted loving you Jake, but I just love you. I’m not in love with you.”, he takes another deep breath, but it comes out as shaky and as he looks at her, she seems sad, looking at him like she is willing him to understand her.

“I think I understand what you mean.”, he lies, straight through his teeth and it seems that the years have changed them because she lets out a sigh, like she is relieved. 

“Could we be friends again?”, he knows that he can’t live without her and if that means having her as a friend then Jake will gladly take that even as he feels his heart break. 

“I would love that, and I would love for you to meet Bob.”, he nods because he can’t say anything else and manages a small smile.

The man in question comes out of the Hard Deck and seems to look around before a smile appears at the sight of his girlfriend, it gets smaller when he sees Jake and he guesses that Dove told him what happened.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake, it was good to see you again.”, she has a genuine smile and Jake feels a flutter in his stomach at the sight but tries to forget it.

“You too, see you tomorrow.”, he watches her leave, going to Bob and quickly kissing the WSO with a bright smile as they go back to their car. She seems to be telling him something and Jake sees the way Bob looks at her and knows that Bob will always be the better choice out of the two of them because he realized what was in front of him.

[echo-is-worth-more-than-2000]

Hi friends! I rarely post here but with tonight being the final Bad Batch Eve, I thought I’d share how much this show has meant to me.

I grew up in a small town in Texas. I was never as outgoing as my brother. Often forgotten about. Bullied severely from elementary school to high school. I was never able to find anyone I could relate to. Never able to find anyone who shared my interests. Never really found my people.

I’ve been a Star Wars fan since before I can remember. Lucky for me, my dad is also a huge fan. His birthday also happens to be May 4th. (He jokes that he’s a real life Jedi). I remember October 3rd, 2008 so vividly. I was 10 years old. The premiere of The Clone Wars was a moment that I will never forget. I was so excited. In that moment, it didn’t matter that I didn’t have friends. The hateful things said to me at school didn’t matter. All that mattered was these amazing characters and their stories. The Clone Wars gave me my first comfort characters: Echo and Fives. I cried through “losing” Echo. I cried through losing Fives. It truly felt like losing a friend. I know to some, that may be ridiculous. And that’s okay. Maybe it is. But the comfort they brought me in my darkest times was so real. (You can imagine my excitement during the final season when we discovered Echo survived).

Fast forward to 2021: 23 years old and in my last year of college. Still healing from the mentally abusive relationship I had just left behind. Still trying to find my people. Trying to find where I fit in. And then The Bad Batch premiered. Little did I know how much one show would change my life for the better. I found comfort in not just the show, but also in fanfics and TikTok’s. I started to make my own TikTok’s about my love for the Batch (and Star Wars in general). It was scary at first. I’ve always been too afraid to put myself out there. But I love to laugh. And I love making people laugh. So I started to make funny little TikTok’s. I’d post just about every day. And eventually I started posting daily. I eventually worked up the courage to comment and interact with other Star Wars fans. It became one of the best parts of my day. My fiancé (now husband) and I would sit together and read the hilarious comments left on my posts.

(Speaking of my husband, I want to give him a shout out for being SOO supportive. Anytime I was too nervous to put myself out there, he was (and is) constantly there to reassure me. He reminds me every day that I’m worthy of love and friendship. 💖)

I gained some AMAZING mutuals. We mainly just commented back and forth. We would recommend fanfics to each other and send our favorite edits or memes back and forth. While those interactions may seem small, they made me feel so seen, loved, and accepted.

We came together in good times and bad. Every Bad Batch Eve, every time new Star Wars news would drop, and anytime a toxic fanboy decided to try and put us down, we had each other. We were in it together. I’ve never experienced community like that. It truly felt and still feels like a family. I had finally found my people. Finally found where I fit in. And it’s all because of The Bad Batch. It all started with Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, and Omega.

Thank you to everyone who has been so kind. Everyone who has laughed and cried with me through out the series. The wonderful community we have here is something I wish little me could’ve had. But how amazing is it that I get to have it now? It’s the best feeling in the world. The Bad Batch may be ending, but it will live on through us. These wonderful characters will live on. They will always be with us.

TBB Forever❤️🖤

•

Tiktok & Insta: Echossarad

Main insta: toe.morrow

X: Echossarad

[avasghost]

foreign birds: update #2

wake up new foreign birds update just dropped

so yeah. 13k in and nothing has gone extremely wrong yet which is good! it's all going pretty good. so here's excerpts for chapter 7-10.

if you missed it, you can find the wip intro here and the first update here. and also the playlist here because i have good music taste.

so ! the story is progressing nicely and the four timelines are working out really well. i finally introduced gabriel (in the college timeline) and he's becoming one of my favourite characters ever (based on the 1 singular scene with him i've written so far, in a chapter i'm going to include in the next update bc i don't want this update to be that long). this book is probably going to be relatively short with the projected word count being 50-60k words, so at this rate i might finish it for camp in april next year? but idk. i'll probably be sad if i finish this book any time soon so i won't be rushing it.

excerpts & taglist below the cut!

CHAPTER 7

in chapter 7, we jump back to the third timeline, which follows martin going to college and the development of his relationship with gabriel, who's already dead in the fictive present.

in this chapter martin leaves his hometown finally and drives for a while and then has dinner in a little diner where he aspires to not be like the people in his hometown.

When I left my hometown for college, I didn’t check its fleeting image in the rear-view, didn’t even feel it slink away around me and disappear into fields and hills. All I felt was the relief of separation, the green unfurling like a new country.

and here's the end of the chapter:

I ate the burger and paid and left. The sky had deepened, and the stars glittered in small clusters above my head. It didn’t feel too different from back home, where Jasmine and I would lie on our trampoline and count them, scanning the sky carefully for all the tiny lights. I kept driving. The roads grew smoother and buildings grew taller and more industrial. Cars crawled like ants, headlights a searing yellow. The traffic lights tossed green and red beams across the highway. The stars disappeared.

CHAPTER 8

in the main timeline (martin back in his hometown after death of gabriel) martin goes to a laundromat and meets rainey for the first time in three years! oh the tension

here he is the night before being sad bc thats just what he does:

I spent two nights in the motel room alone. The telephone on the wall didn’t ring and no ones’ knuckles thrummed on the door. If they did, I probably wouldn’t have answered anyway,sprawled on the paisley duvet cover in a silvery sheen of smoke. I kept my pack of cigarettes under the edge of my pillow, and smoked into the empty hours of the night as the silence outside the window festered and the room grew shadows and slowly faded from sight. I kept the side-lamp on, and sometimes I leaned into the rind of yellow light that ringed the bedside table. As smoke flumed between my teeth I’d shut my eyes and it would become a halo, the circle of light, the only thing that made me visible.

martin sees rainey in the laundromat after not seeing her for like three years, and she leaves and he follows her outside. they talk awkwardly and then rainey asks why he came back. he avoids the question. (she's the "you" pov)

“So are you back for good?” I approached slowly, then leaned against the wall a few feet from you, warmed by the sun baking on the stucco. “Doubt it. I always hated this place.” “Same.” A cloud of smoke. A cough. “This town is a shithole. I never left, though. Got a pretty good gig writing magazine columns. Pretty decent pay. What were you majoring in again?” I didn’t mention her thieving, decided it wasn’t important. “Photography. Not much of a career to come out of that, though.” “Did you drop out?” “It’s complicated.” Gabriel’s face, swimming. Gabriel’s body crumpled on the ground, blocked out. I blocked it out. “Why did you come back here, then?” “That’s also complicated.” “There’s really nothing left here. Most people our age moved away ages ago and now the only people left are people like Greta and a few little kids.”

later, martin is sitting in his motel room watching the news and gabriel shows up as a missing person.

I sat in my motel room that evening and waiting for the News to clip through the frenzy of static that rang in the back of my head even after the static stopped and a woman with a pearl necklace and too-white teeth began speaking, her voice hollowed by the grain of the audio recording. I pressed the back of my head against the wooden headboard and tugged at the button on the sleeve of my shirt. Her words slipped together, words about the forecast, how it was supposed to be partly sunny tomorrow and rain all night. But then, my stomach dropped. Gabriel’s face flashed on screen, Gabriel with his curly black hair and amber skin, Gabriel with his dimples and subtle smile, Gabriel with his gold earring and colourful silk shirt, mostly unbuttoned so you could see his crystal necklace crooked to his chest. I sleeved a grease of sweat from my forehead as the news reporter’s voice rang in my ears, words still hazy but some sticking out like the sting of metal—student's body found off campus, likely an accident, still searching for answers, will be missed, prayers for his family, so sorry for their loss. And then his face was gone. As suddenly as it had appeared, I could no longer picture his features in my head. He was so close and yet already so far gone.

CHAPTER 9

i skipped this chapter for now but it's in the childhood timeline. moving on.

CHAPTER 10

martin goes to the only nightclub nearby where he doesn't expect to recognize anyone.

i wrote basically this entire chapter in my math class in a notebook which is cool. it's been kind of the best time to get writing done lately (but don't worry its only when i'm done my work i'm not failing i swear)

he's a little disorientated because last time he went to a nightclub it was with gabriel. then he sees someone in the crowd, who he recognizes as rita, a girl he went to school with. i've seriously got to stop describing halos all the time but i can't

The woman, Rita Ellis, was a year younger than I was but graduated a year before me. Skittish and friendly, she’d usually nooked herself behind the pages of the mass-market fantasy novels they sold in grocery store lineups and only spoke when spoken to. Tartan skirts and hair in two braids, she usually sat with her parents in front of my family in mass and I used to watch the light scintillating through the stained-glass windows amber through her hair, give her a soft halo that turned her blond head bright yellow. Today she was haloed by the red and blue lights that scattered above her head, and her hair ran long and wavy across her shoulders.

and then, shortly after

Her voice rang above the noise and I stared at the space behind her ear, where a man with black curls and a gold earring laughed at some unheard joke. Gabriel’s face almost replaced his as he turned towards me, then vanished into bright fractures again.

she asks the usual questions about why he's back and he says he missed it. she says she stayed because her mom had cancer and is still here because of her dad.

then she asks him to dance, and they talk for a while and she tells him she missed him a lot. she asks him to come over to her place but he doesn't bc he wishes he was here with gabriel instead but he's dead so. making due ig. then he gets sad about gabriel not being there and leaves suddenly.

“Sorry. I have to go.” “Her smile slunk back into itself and she slid her hands down my arms before pulling them away. “Of course. It was nice seeing you again, Martin.” “And you. I’ll see you around.” I lost sight of her in the crowd as I made my way toward the exit, with its neon sign stamping red letters in my eyes, a lure. Bodies shuffled against me and sour breath ghosted my face and sweat braised my forehead when finally I shouldered open the door and stepped into the husky chill of night.

soon after

Images swirled in my head, images and faces blending together—Rita’s breath, Gabriel’s eyes, your red hair. The lights and the colours that continued to splotch inside my eyelids and quiver across the pavement in front of me, the yellow moon, all the dark-windowed houses and dead shop signs.

he gets back to his motel and decides to look through a stack of photos he has in his suitcase that he took, most of which are of gabriel.

the end:

I shuffled through the deck of polaroids until the clock above the bed read 2:44 and the stack began to repeat itself, Gabriel Gabriel Gabriel, his face reappearing so many times throughout the stack that it began etching itself in my head again, the familiar curls, his bright eyes, his floral scent and long fingers. The lump pitted in my throat began to grow and I decided not to turn on the news, not to scour every headline for his face, like I so wanted to. It wouldn’t do me any good. It wouldn’t bring him back. I shoved the polaroids into the drawer of the side-table next to the Gideon bible with shiny golden letters, and shut the drawer.

and those are all the excerpts i have today! until the next update,

-- ava

taglist (i just have one for everything, ask to be added/removed): @flip-phones @chewingthescenery @ghostsofmemories @dallonwrites @wildswrites @annlillyjose @letsgetsquiggly @strangerays @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @teaandtypewriters @kahaaniyaa @coffeeandcalligraphy @47crayons @writing-is-a-martial-art @pepperdee @oceancold @unorganisedbookshelf @musingsbycaitlin @sunstone-iolite @femmeniism @raywritesstories @rodentwrites @cheerfulmelancholies @these-starrynights

[billthedrake]

DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH (PART TWO)

"Moooose!" It was TJ Miller's teammate and good buddy Trey jogging up beside him as the team made their way in from football practice. TJ was an offensive lineman and Trey was a kicker, so they often spent practice doing different drills.

"T-Man," TJ said with a gruff smile. "What's up? Your golden foot gonna win the game for us this weekend?"

"We'll see," Trey grinned. "Listen, what you doing for your birthday?" It was TJ's 18th.

"My dad's taking me out tonight. Steak dinner, the whole works," the 6'5" jock answered. TJ had hit another growth spurt the last year, and while he wasn't overweight, he was genetically stocky in build, the teen muscle looking even fuller and bigger. If he didn't hate school so much, he'd be college scholarship material for sure.

"Nice," his friend answered. "Maybe we can get a few of the guys together this weekend and do something. Kevin's parents have that place up at the lake, and he's always going on about us going up there."

"That'd be cool," TJ said. He always felt self-conscious around Kevin Reynolds, the team quarterback and golden boy. Kevin's family was loaded. He wasn't exactly an asshole about it, but the quarterback was always was bragging about some gift or vacation or something.

TJ's dad was strictly blue collar, though Mark Miller had worked hard and now was the owner of a successful welding business on the outskirts of their small town. It had been a rocky upbringing for TJ, since his mom had gotten into drugs and left them by the time TJ was 5. She was living a state over now and was doing better, mostly out of rehab, and TJ saw her once a year at the holidays. But it was mostly just him and Pop... and the rotating cast of girlfriends who'd show up around the house.

TJ had to laugh at how predictable his dad's type was... blond (real or fake), big tits, ten years or so younger than him, kind of a cross between sorority girl, metal-band groupie, and biker chick. Somewhat whorish, to be crude. Mark Miller wasn't magazine handsome by any means, but he had blue eyes and youthful dimples and a sexual magnetism that seemed to win women over. At least the women he went for. But they never stuck around long... one or two months, maybe, or if he was real into them, eight or nine. Then it was another woman showing up at the house.

TJ knew the town looked down on his dad for his bachelor ways. He also knew his Dad didn't give a fuck. That's one reason he looked up to his old man, for all of the ways Pop annoyed him sometimes. And deep down, the jock suspected his dad wasn't going to commit to a relationship while TJ was still around. For as unconventional a father as Mark Miller was, he was a good dad and thought the world of his son.

****

The steak dinner was great, but even more so TJ was starved from a tough practice, and his Dad ribbed him for scarfing his food.

"Sorry, Pop," the now 18 year old said deferentially.

Mark flashed those dimples on his otherwise tan, weathered face. "Just teasing ya, Thomas," he said. Mark always called him by his full first name, not TJ, not Moose. "Eat up. That's why I brought you here."

TJ craved times like this. When Pop was in a good mood. When there wasn't one of the man's girlfriends around. As they finished up, Mark seemed to be smirking as he watched TJ.

"What?" the football jock laughed.

Mark smiled. "You're all fucking grown up. That's what."

"I guess," TJ replied.

Mark leaned in. "So... it's been a while for our father-son chats... you still a virgin, son?"

TJ blushed. "Dad! What the fuck?"

Mark didn't relent. "What? It's just us, man to man, Thomas. You're 18 and about to graduate. I wanna make sure my boy is enjoying life a little."

TJ knew why his Dad hounded him. Mark Miller was the kind of dude who lost his virginity at 15 and fucked his way through half the cheerleading squad, and loved to brag about it. To Mark it seemed only natural TJ would be the same way.

"I, dunno, Pop... I guess I'm not good around girls." TJ hated lying to his father, but it wasn't a total lie. For all of his success playing football, at heart TJ was an awkward kid and his recent growth had made him a bull-in-the-china shop socially.

Mark nudged his son's cheek playfully with his fist then lean back with a proud smile. The man definitely had something up his sleeve. "That doesn't matter where we're going tonight."

TJ didn't understand. "Whaddya mean?"

"I figured I'd get you a special birthday present... there's a hooker I've used who's a real pro... I mean like anything you wanna try," Mark explained. "Good looking too, not a skank."

"Dad, I dunno..." TJ meekly objected.

"Come on, boy, it'll be a blast. Trust me on this."

Mark was a persuasive man, but more than that TJ was scared of disappointing him. Maybe if he thought of Coach Adams the whole time...

TJ tried to pass it off as first time jitters on the ride across town. He wondered how often his Dad went to prostitutes. He had a feeling it was more than a rare occasion. They got out of the truck and walked up to a nondescript ranch house.

"Hey Mark," a woman answered. Mark had been right. She was pretty... older than TJ expected, but petite and kind of a mom next door.

Mark clapped his hand on TJ's meaty shoulder. "This is my boy Thomas."

"Well hello Thomas, I'm Susie," the hooker smiled in a honeyed voice, not missing a beat.

"I want you to take real good care of him.... anything he's in the mood for..." Mark pulled out a stuffed envelope from his inner coat pocket. "I made the kitty real sweet for ya tonight."

"Well thanks, Sugar," she smiled to TJ's dad. Then turning to the young jock, she took his hand. "Don't be nervous, honey... we'll have a real good time." She practically pulled TJ inside, as his father gave him a pat on the back and sauntered back to wait in his truck.

Susie led TJ back to a bedroom. Nice and clean, not what he expected. Maybe he only had TV prostitutes to go by, but this seemed... normal.

But Susie was slipping off her nightgown and showing off a pair of big round tits. The woman had implants, but they were good ones. She had on some lacy panties but otherwise stood before TJ completely naked.

It was the first time TJ had seen a women nude in the flesh, and as he pulled off his jeans, dutifully determined to go with it, he wished to god the sight turned him on.

"So Thomas... are you the romantic type?"

"Romantic?" TJ asked. This was a hooker.

"I mean," she tried to explain. "Some men, well they want some affection they're not getting elsewhere, or want to pretend I'm a girl they've been pining for. That sort of thing." Seeing TJ's reaction, she smiled. "Maybe you're more a get your rocks off kind of man," she added. "I respect that."

"Yeah," TJ said, dumbly. It was now or never. The jock shucked his boxer briefs and his big soft dong flopped out.

Susie sized him up. "You're definitely your Daddy's boy," she grinned. Stepping up she reached down and cupped TJ's sizable genitals. "Let's see if we can warm these engines up."

TJ gulped. He tried. God knows he tried. He thought of Coach Adams doing what Susie was doing. He thought of the last gay porn video he'd jacked off to. He shut his eyes and thought of how he'd dreamed his first time with a man to go.

"You OK, Honey?" Susie asked, concerned. "I can do something else."

"No," TJ muttered. He reached down and pulled up his briefs and reached for his jeans. "I can't... sorry Susie...."

Already the tears were coming, breaking his voice. Then sobs. The fact this prostitute was seeing him break down somehow made it worse. He couldn't bear to look at her as he rushed out of the house and toward Pop's truck.

"Hey kiddo," Mark enthused, "that was fast..." His words were interrupted when he realized TJ was crying. A face-red, ugly cry. "It's OK," he patted his son's leg. He got out of the car and walked up to the door, where Susie was appearing.

TJ watched as they had a quick conversation. Susie was explaining what had gone on to his father. At least as much as she knew.

The jock feared the worst when his dad opened the truck door and got back in. His crying had stopped, and fear and shame now replaced the distress of the moment.

"You really aren't into women, are you, son?" Mark said, the realization sinking in.

"No, Pop. I'm so fucking sorry..."

Mark gave a stern but loving nod. "Don't say you're sorry, Thomas. Where you get your dick wet is between you and your maker... and hell, it's not even his goddamn business."

It was the best thing a father could have told him. "I should have told you, Pop. I wish I'd had the guts to... save you all that money."

"Don't worry about the money," Mark said. He started the truck. "I guess I can be an intimating SOB, huh?" he said.

"A little," TJ admitted.

Mark laughed, and that TJ felt himself laugh.

As they got back to the house, Mark got that idea up his sleeve grin again. "Time for another man to man talk," he said as he sat on the sofa. TJ took the seat across from him.

"How long you known?"

"Like forever, Pop," TJ admitted. "Since my first fantasies, you know."

Mark nodded. "You on the level about being a virgin? Or was that a cover?"

TJ spoke up. "Oh on the level. I've never... I don't even know how I'd find a guy in this town."

"Not one of your teammates or anything?"

"No sir." TJ wasn't quite sure why Pop was giving him the third degree, especially after what he said earlier.

"Well my offer still stands."

"What offer?" TJ didn't follow.

"A hooker. Or escort, whatever you call it when it's a dude."

"Jesus, Pop... you already forked out enough money tonight."

"Susie didn't charge me, son," he replied. "I gave her a little something for her time and trouble. But this..." he reached in his coat pocket and pulled out that envelope, still stuffed, and tossed it on the coffee table. "should be enough to get you a good time. Whaddya say?"

It was a little messed up, but TJ knew it was his father's way of giving him an important experience. And TJ wasn't gonna lie to himself, he was way eager to have sex for the first time.

With a shy grin, the jock admitted, "If you're offering, I'm not gonna say no, Pop."

Mark's expression got a big wide smile. "You're a Miller all right." He seemed to be thinking it over. "In a couple weeks... we'll go up to Chicago. Make a weekend of it. Catch a Blackhawks game. And you can help me pick out the right dude to hire." He got a sheepish expression. "I'm afraid your old man doesn't know much about the gay stuff."

***

That's how it went down. Pop even closed up shop a couple hours early and was ready to go once TJ got home from school. The first night in the city they caught the hockey game, and Saturday morning they did a little sightseeing.

By early afternoon, TJ's dad seemed in a down, quiet mood.

"Pop... we don't gotta," the jock said. "I don't gotta..."

"It's not that," Mark answered, forcing a smiled. "I guess I'm just realizing you'll probably want to leave Centerville after you graduate."

TJ knew instantly what was on his dad's mind. Other than raising a fine son, Mark Miller was proud of nothing more than his business. He'd built it from the ground up, with hard work. And once he had an idea TJ wasn't college bound, he taught his boy welding and everything he knew about running the business. It was understood TJ would stay on and take it over eventually. The gay thing was throwing a wrench in that plan.

"I'm not going anywhere, Pop. Not anytime soon," he added.

Mark gave an affectionate smile and pulled his big boy close to him for a second as they walked.

They made their way back to the hotel and Mark checked his watch. "It's about time," he said. "I'll give you your privacy, Thomas. But you know where the money is. And call if there's any trouble."

"Thanks, Pop, you're the best," TJ said. He was surprisingly not hesitant about this. Eagerness and teen hormones had taken over. He'd been chubbing off and on all morning in anticipation.

He didn't have to wait long when he got to the room. TJ stripped down, then put on a pair of football short just to be decent. He counted and double counted the cash in the envelope. It was certainly more than what Susie charged. This was the big city, and Pop had sprung for a high-class escort.

TJ didn't know how high class until a knock came at the door and he went to open it. "Steve" was crazy hot. Dressed in form-fitting gym-workout clothes, the prostitute stood 5'11" and solidly built with gym-honed muscled. TJ guess the man was in his late 30s. Handsome in a non-flashy way, Steve looked like he could have been one of those career men who TJ had seen downtown and at the hockey game last night.

"Thomas?" the escort asked with a deep masculine voice and a friendly smile on his face.

"Yeah," the jock grinned. "You can call me TJ."

"Nice to meet you TJ," the escort said, stepping into the hotel room. He was very much a professional and at ease. He set down a gym back and turned to TJ, who stood on and felt his cock stir back to firmness. "You have a nice body, TJ," he said. "You an athlete?"

"Yessir, football," TJ replied. "I used to do some wrestling but got too big." The jock felt dumb because he didn't know how much small talk to give. This guy probably didn't give a shit what sport he did, TJ reckoned.

Steve chuckled. "No need to call me sir... unless that's your thing."

TJ laughed nervously. "I don't know what my thing is, actually... this is my first time."

"First time with a professional?" Steve clarified.

TJ shook his head. God he was nervous now, but it was a different kind of nervous than with Susie. "No. First time, period. I'm a virgin."

"Wow," Steve said. "Well, I'm honored to be your first, TJ." He stepped up, like he was going to initiate a kiss. "I should double check... you're 18 right?"

TJ nodded. "I got an ID if you wanna see."

"That's fine," Steve assured him, then paused. "On second thought, I should."

TJ went over to his wallet and fished out his driver's license. Steve took a look, nodded, and handed it back.

"Um, the money is there," TJ pointed to the envelope by the bed. Steve picked it up and took a quick look inside.

"Thank you," he said. "So, TJ..." he continued as he undid his zip up outer sweatshirt and peeled off his T-shirt. "You just tell me what you want, OK? If it's vanilla, it's good. Top, bottom, sucking, whatever - I do it all. If it's more, just ask. Some things are an easy yes, some are a hard no, and some require negotiating." He stood shirtless and kicked off his shoes. "But mostly I'm here to make you happy, got it?" Then the joggers came down, leaving Steve completely nude.

"Yeah, got it," TJ hissed, so turned on. Steve was porn hot. Scratch that, he had a better body than any porn guy he'd seen. Sculpted muscle that was big without being muscle bound, waxed smooth but with thick pubes and nice leg and arm hair. A heavy long dick hung from the man's crotch. "God, anything is gonna be amazing," the jock added, eyeing Steve up from head to toe.

"You're overdressed, stud," Steve winked.

TJ nodded and pushed his shorts down. This time there was no performance problem. TJ was hard as a rock.

"Oh my fucking god, kid," Steve grunted, unable to take his eyes off TJ's cock. "You're fricking huge."

TJ knew he had a big dick. Even soft he showed bigger than his teammates in the showers. But now he had confirmation of just how much out of the ordinary he was. "Too big?" he asked nervously. God, if this fell through just because he had a big schlong, TJ was gonna be majorly upset.

Steve could barely take his eyes off that prick. "No such thing, stud... wow!"

The fact this hot as hell escort appreciated his endowment made TJ's dick surge harder, almost bouncing up from its heavy standing position.

Finally, the handsome escort looked up into TJ's horny face. "So, stud... this is all about you. Any way you want your special first time to play out," he asked with a grin.

TJ asked, "Um, do you kiss?"

Steve nodded and stepped up to the taller high school senior athlete, placing his hands on TJ's beefy body. Those hands felt incredible to TJ, almost better than the feel of Steve's breath on his face and the connection of another man's lips to his for the first time. Almost. The jock didn't know what to expect from kissing a man. Steve's kiss both matched his expectations and felt different. Real, not fantasy, especially once that tongue darted between his lips and met TJ's urging it to probe back. It did.

TJ's hards were now on this hunk's body, feeling him up and humping against him as he leaned down slightly into that heated kiss.

Steve pulled back, a smile on his face. He gently bumped fists against TJ's broad chest. The footballer wouldn't be mistaken for an older man, but the young dude was solid and muscular beneath that genetic padding. "You're a tall fella," Steve hissed. "Maybe this would be more comfortable on the bed."

"Yeah," TJ agreed. As he stepped toward one of the spare double beds and pulled the covers down, he could make out the trail of precum on Steve's upper abs and smooth sternum. He got on the bed and watched as Steve climbed on slowly, almost seductively, and ran his hands up TJ's legs.

"You feel up for a blow job?" the escort asked.

"God yeah," the jock laughed. "For starters." He looked down at this muscular man, ready to do what he asked. It was the first time that realization fully sank in for TJ. He got a sense of why his Pop loved hookers. "I wanna fuck you, too," he said boldly.

Steve's hands gripped the base of that meaty teen prick and pulled it up to an upright position. Leaning in, he growled, "Don't worry, I'll pull off when you get close. Just give me a heads up, OK?" Servicing a virgin was a first for the male prostitute, but he suspected this young john might not have the best trigger control.

TJ's eyes were wide as he watched Steve take his prick in his mouth and start sucking. Just a few exploratory sucks to wet that dong was all the older man needed before he began actively sucking the cock.

"Shit!" TJ gasped, surprised at how amazing it felt. "Suck me, man." Steve wasn't deep throating his meat, not by a long shot, but TJ didn't expect that. He didn't expect anything in particular really, it all felt great. The tongue, the slick saliva, the suction. And most of all the sight of an older man blowing him, going to town on his cock.

"Oh shit, pull off!" he warned. Too soon, the escort had him at the brink.

Steve let out a chuckle and blew on that twitching hard dick. He flicked the base of the shaft with his fingers, a kind of rough snap. "OK if I do this, stud? It'll help keep you from overheating."

TJ nodded. The sting at the base of his prick almost tickled. But it worked. He was still rock hard, but the danger of orgasm passed.

Steve repeated his sucking now, and this time TJ was able to savor it with less urgency. This guy was good. Hell, that was an understatement. TJ felt a little guilty about how much Pop was shelling out for a half hour with Steve, but the escort was worth what he charged.

Again, the stirring in TJ's balls was a warning sign. His signal to Steve was less urgent, but the sucker got the picture and pulled off. He avoided stimulating the head, but worked his fist up and down the bottom half of the prick.

"You're a stallion and a half all right.... OK if I sit on it first? After I get used to the size you can fuck me in whatever position you want."

TJ's prick twitched at those words, and he watched Steve go over and pull out some special-looking lube from his gym bag. Or maybe it's what gay guys always used for anal. Steve had the look of a man on a mission as he reached back between his buns and applied an extra amount of lube, and some more for good measure, then climbed back on the bed. He straddled TJ's midsection and reached back to slick up that meaty dong.

"This is easily ten inches," he said aloud. "Damn."

TJ never felt prouder. His dick size wasn't his doing, but somehow he felt like a real man with this guy. Particularly watching Steve's face as he sat back on the big pole. It wasn't a wince of pain, but the man definitely reacted to the stretching of his hole. It took about twenty seconds for him to work that head past his ring, then he sank down.

"God yes," Steve grunted, feeling his guts fill up with that heavy jock dong. He got caught up in his own bodily sensations, but then remembered TJ. "How's that feel, kiddo? Your first piece of ass?"

"Amazing," TJ replied, running his hands all along Steve's built outer thighs. He grunted once Steve bottomed out, sitting all the way down on his crotch. "I don't even know to describe it," the jock continued. "It's everything I dreamed about."

Steve's insides felt alive. Somehow the cock felt even thicker and longer inside him. But the initial discomfort was giving way, fast. "I'm glad, stud." He raised up and little, maybe two inches, then eased back down. And again.

"Fuck, that's nice," TJ grunted. It was like a slow handjob but with the tighter suction of Steve's slick bowels doing the massaging.

Steve's focus was now entirely on his newbie john, eyes on TJ's, locked in and trying to read the jock's face. "Want me to work out your load like this?" he asked.

TJ almost said yes. But he'd dreamed of something and worried he wouldn't have a chance to experience it. "I wanna take you from behind," he hissed. "Doggy style."

Steve grinned. "Should have guessed," he winked. He gave a couple of short shallow hip motions on that prick, as much for his own pleasure as for TJ's. Then he slid up and off, letting that heavy hard meat fall onto TJ's belly with a thud. Steve grinned and took a second to add some more lube with his fist. "I shouldn't be telling you to become an escort, but if you ever did, you'd make a killing, kiddo."

TJ laughed as he slipped out from under Steve, getting on his knees, as the older muscled man go on all fours. It was TJ's first good view of the man's ass. Round and muscled and waxed smooth. Greedily, the football player's hands gripped the hard mounds and felt them up for a second.

"You're an ass man all right," Steve chuckled, hiking his butt up for TJ's greedy hands.

TJ didn't know what he was. But he was rock hard and excited beyond belief. Like a porn star, he slapped his hard dick against those buns then slipped it down into the smooth crack.

"A little lower," Steve instructed then once that fat bludgeon of a dick head pressed against his pucker he hissed. "Yep, right there, stud." Bracing his upper body, he grunted, "I'm ready buddy... you can push it in."

TJ didn't know what was involved in fucking ass. But this guy was a professional, he figured. Once he got inside Steve's ass, he powered all the way in.

"God yes!" Steve cried, not too loud, but loud enough. "Fuck me kid."

TJ did. Hands gripping the escort's hips, he started a regular, fevered thrust. So this is what sex was about. The physical stimulation to his cock, the psychological pull of mating with another men, the sensory overload of it all. Slick fucking sounds, balls tapping Steve's taint, the heat of the older man's body beneath him, the scent of sex.

It took three minutes, and TJ wasn't going to hold back. Not now. "Unnngh!" he grunted as he entered orgasm. That cum seemed to go on, too, as TJ even got a little light headed from the intensity of it.

Meanwhile, Steve was fisting his meat and that professional ass was clenching down in regular timing as the man's own load sprayed the sheets.

TJ didn't want to pull out. But Steve was already stretching forward to ease off that still-hard dong. "Fuck, kid," he said as he rolled out from under TJ, with the help of the jock back up to let him. "I wouldn't have guessed that was your first."

TJ shot back a proud grin, placing his hands on his hips and letting his now slowly softening meat swing out, wet with lube and cum.

Steve almost laughed at the sight and the big smile on the jock's face. "How was your first time, man?"

TJ leaned in. He'd want another kiss before the man left. "Incredible," he said. "Gonna be hard to live up to this experience, I know."

Steve met the invitation to kiss. It wasn't prolonged, but it was the right mix of casual and romantic. "I'm afraid I gotta get to my trainer's session," he said. "I'll just rinse off first if that's OK."

"Yeah," TJ said. He sat on the bed and watched this perfect hunk strut to the bathroom. "I tapped that," he thought with excitement. "I actually fucked that guy."

***

TJ was watching ESPN, plopped up on the bed in some jeans and a sweatshirt when Mark Miller returned to the hotel room. He'd given a little extra time to be safe.

"So... how was it?" the father asked.

TJ looked up. "I can't even describe, Pop. So good. The guy was the best."

That made Mark happy. After the disaster with Susie, he wanted this time to be good for his son. That's when he saw the envelope. Still stuffed. "Didn't you give him the fee?" he asked, concerned something had gone wrong.

"Oh I did, Pop," TJ swore. "Or at least I tried to. Only he told me if was on the house."

"On the house?" Mark replied, sitting on the other bed. He'd never had a hooker turn down money.

TJ blushed. "You know, on account of my dick size."

Mark actually guffawed. "Well I'll be damned." He picked up the envelope, then tossed it back on the nightstand. "How bout this... you keep it, and next time you need a little escape from town, you'll have a little fun money. OK?"

"You sure, Pop?" TJ asked, sitting up.

"Sure I'm sure," the father said. He got weirdly emotional again. "Listen, Thomas, I won't try to bribe you to stay in Centerville. But if you do... listen, a man's got needs you know... well, damnit... I just want you happy Thomas."

It was a trip seeing his normally gruff father tongue tied. It broke down TJ's defenses some. "I'll make a go of it Pop. Run the business like you want. If I'm 25 and miserable, I'll figure it out then. But I'll do my best, Pop. Promise."

Mark smiled. He really had the best son in the world.

[profoundbondfanfic]

☆ Creature Destiel

Because sometimes we’re just eager to read something lovely or just tense and gritty, and basically everything in between that only a creature!au can offer.

--All fic links go to our tagged reviews--

A Demon Like Him by EllenOfOz [Explicit, 24k words]

Dean Winchester doesn’t want to be a warlock. The idea of working in a lab, channeling demonic magic into enchanted batteries is not what he wants to do with his life, but it’s a dangerous opinion to have—his father was a powerful and well-connected warlock, and Dean is expected to follow the family tradition. His only way out is to fail the demon summoning class—failure means expulsion from the Warlock College. Despite Dean’s best efforts to fumble the summoning, it works. Although not the way anyone expects. Dean’s demon, Castiel, is an incubus, but also a powerful mage on a mission to rebalance the magic that is being stripped from Demonside by warlocks. Dean must choose: fail out of his final exam and turn his back on becoming a warlock, or help Castiel and graduate. But he doesn’t count on how hot the incubus is, or how close they have become in just a few days.

A Tail Most Unusual by rustling_pages [Mature, 9k words]

It could be argued there are worse ways of meeting the love of your life than measuring their inseam for the fitting of a prosthetic merman tail, but if you asked Castiel about it, he’d probably disagree. Secretly being a merman in Hollywood was difficult enough, but working on the cheesiest tv show to ever exploit the worst tropes about merfolk - thank you, Gabriel - with annoyingly attractive soap opera star Dean Winchester was not how Castiel had envisioned his life going.

et florum magica: (And the Magic of Flowers) by wiccanstiel [Explicit, 52k words]

There’s a large, leafless tree and a road, a hand on a gnarled cane, a stoutly man in a black suit, his face scratched out. When Castiel Novak moves to the small town of Fox Hollow, he’s looking for a fresh start. Only his past seems to be–quite literally–haunting him, and even through his best efforts of settling into his new life, there’s a darkness in the shadows that he can’t seem to shake. And after meeting an otherworldly being named Dean during what was supposed to be a simple walk through the forest, he’s left with more questions than answers. But like it’s residents, Fox Hollow has some well-kept secrets, and things quickly turn to life or death when one of those secrets finally steps from the shadows and into the light.

It’s a Small World (aka the Worst Ride at Disneyland) by ireadhpinenochian [Mature, 45k words]

Dean’s life didn’t start out great. With his mom dying and his father taking him and Sam on wild goose chase after wilder goose chase to track down her killer until Sam couldn’t take it anymore and ran off, it pretty much sucked. But now he has Cas. And Cas is great–perfect, even–definitely the best thing that’s ever happened to him, even if he isn’t quite human. He’s been living so long in domestic bliss that he completely forgot to be worried about waiting for the other shoe to drop. Which is, of course, when his giant of a brother strolls back into his life sending Dean into a panic that he and Cas will have to uproot their perfect apple pie life if Sam finds out Cas’ big secret.

Love Bites by MalMuses [Explicit, 34k words]

Cas Novak graduated with a 4.0 in Mathematics, but not even Naomi Novak’s money could help him at job interviews. Anxious and dissatisfied with life, at nearly thirty he’s still washing dishes in the back of his best friend Hannah’s café. Until one night when his cat drags an injured bat into his apartment. Dean may be a vampire, but he’s not an asshole (well, not much.) He feels like he owes the awkward guy for rescuing him from the cat’s clutches, so he sets about changing Cas’s life. A silly story about families who aren’t quite what they seem, fake boyfriends, and falling in love with someone who’s never, technically, met you.

Man in the Wilderness by OneHundredSuns [Explicit, 69k words]

Dean Winchester is fresh out of Purgatory along with every other Tom, Dick and Wendigo that called the cesspool home. As the monsters lay waste to the Earth and eat anything they can get their hands on, Dean sets out to find his only remaining family so that they can hunker down and fight the assholes head on. He doesn’t mean to stumble upon Castiel Novak and his adorable twins in the middle of the apocalypse and he sure as hell doesn’t mean to offer them a ride to wherever they are trying to get to. But the world is a dangerous place now and he’s always been a sucker for blue eyes and cute kids. So he’ll help them out and just hope it doesn’t get him or them killed in the process.

Roots of Fate by Unknown [Explicit, 40k words]

Castiel Novak leads a quiet life in the little town of Fairhope. He tends his gardens and takes pride in filling his great-grandmother’s footsteps as the town’s honorary green witch. His quiet life comes to a halt when he gets a new neighbor and it’s none other than the alpha of his dreams and high school crush, Dean Winchester. But Dean’s not alone, he has a daughter now. Overnight, Fairhope is flipped on its head as every available omega and beta in town fights for the alpha’s attention. Cas tries to help as best he can but Dean eventually comes up with his own solution and that’s when the posters show up. Posters that claim that Dean Winchester is looking for a mate. But to win, you have to get a key from a certain orange cat. Let the games begin!

Sparks by vipjuly [Explicit, 21k words]

The creepy house on the corner has been abandoned for years, everyone says. It’s ramshackle and decrepit, the yard overgrown, the wrought iron fence bent and broken in some places. The adults in the neighborhood have asked the city to do something about that eyesore for so long, but the city insists that someone is paying property taxes on the house, therefore they cannot do anything about it. So, everyone ignores it and pretends it doesn’t exist. They definitely don’t go anywhere near it, either. Dean, though. Dean is drawn to it as if by gravity. Little by little, Dean repairs what he can. The monster inside the house ain’t so bad, either. Y'know. For a monster.

trustworthy for such work by sharkfish [Explicit, 7k words]

Lately, Cas has been wondering what Dean tastes like. His mouth, the markings on his chest, his cock. Does Dean know the ways Cas has touched himself, wishing it was Dean?

What Has Eight Tentacles and Isn’t Allowed to Eat Pie? by Annie D [Teen, 16k words]

Dean watched an anime porn about this once, but real life turns out to be way less interesting. Or, the one where Dean gets turned into an octopus.