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tvgals · 8 months

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I WANT SOME CAKE, AND IM NOT TALKING THE SWEET .

husband! gojo x black! baker! wife! reader x customer! geto

synopsis — when your best customer comes into your shop, your husband feels the need to share, just so your oh so best customer can see what he’s missing out on.

cw; food play, threesome, jealous gojo, ass eating?? awkward/ nervous geto in a way, semi-public sex, fluff to smut to fluff, my smut writing abilities aren’t the best so bare with me!!

you were in the back of the shop when you heard the bell over your shop door ring, signifying someone was here. “i’ll be there in just a second! take a moment to read over our menu if you’d like!” you call from the back. “ahh, i already know what’d i’d like.” you heard geto call from the counter. geto was one of your most loyal customers. he’d been one of your first clients to come to your shop when it first opened. you were a one man show, baking, icing, commercials, you name it. you met your husband gojo just two years after you’d created the shop, ten years in running and seven years of being married.

you basically ran from your spot in the kitchen to the counter. “geto! i haven’t seen you in a while. where ya’ been at?” you ask, crossing your arms on the counter and leaning forward. “y’know, around. met this girl and i’m talkin’ to her i guess.” geto shrugs, looking at the menu as if he didn’t get the same thing every time. “ooo, i see. are you gonna order or just stare like you don’t get the same thing every time?” you laugh, geto blushing at your bubbly smile. “yeah yeah. you know what i get. i’ll get a cinnamon bun with a glass of strawberry lemonade.” geto whispers, almost embarrassed of what he looks like ordering something so girly.

“comin’ right up.” you smile, walking into your kitchen. your husband walks into the shop with his arms open. “hey!” he smiles, everyone in the shop saying their hellos back. “in the back!” you alert your husband, who was making his way to geto. “hey.” gojo mumbles, picking food out his teeth. “hey. y/n’s in the back making my cinnamon roll.” geto replies, stretching. you stand in the back packing up geto’s cinnamon roll in a styrofoam box. you put his strawberry lemonade in a cup, a cute pink straw to compliment it. you walk to the front, looking at your husband and your best friend standing awkwardly next to each other.

“five twenty six.” you smile, handing geto his treat. geto grabs his wallet and hands you a ten dollar bill. “keep the change. i’ll be back later, yeah?” geto smiles, taking his cinnamon roll and drink and walking out. “see you later!” you wave goodbye, putting the 10 dollars in your cash register. “ain’t he the charmer?” gojo mumbles, walking behind the counter with you. “ah, he’s just generous like that.” you shrug. watching five more customers walk up to the counter.

“hello! i’m y/n, what can i get for you?” you smile, discarding of your old gloves and putting on new ones. gojo watched you as your customers ordered, your bright smile never faltering. “want help?” gojo asks, peering down at you. “i would appreciate it.” you grin, walking to the back. gojo washes his hands and puts on his own pair of gloves. your husband watches as you walk around the kitchen, staring at your ass.

“jesus, baby. might have to close shop early. those shorts look too good on you.” gojo teases, grabbing plates and a few styrofoam boxes to put the food in. “gojo! they can hear you y’know.” you roll your eyes playfully. “oh well, let them hear about how hot my wife is.” gojo snickers, smiling at your playful banter. “being hot won’t get any customers.” you say, putting a batch of cookies in the oven. “oh yes it will..” gojo grins, taking a few cups and straws.

“mhm…” you hum, leaning on the sink while the cookies baked. “y’know that geto guy…” gojo started, sighing. you let out a little laugh, grabbing a cup from gojo’s hand. “what about him?” you ask, watching the ice cubes fall into the cup. “uhhh, what’s his deal? is he dating someone orrrr…” gojo asks, turning to you. you shrug your shoulders and sigh. “yeah, he said he’s talking to this girl. i’m proud of him, actually. he’s been stuck on me for a while. i’m glad he can move on.” you smile. you realize gojo’s face falters a bit, him shifting on the balls of his feet.

“hm.” gojo hums. you open up the oven and take the cookie out with a mitten, hissing at the feeling of the heat through the mittens. “what’s wrong now?” you roll your eyes, looking over at him. “it’s just…he had a crush on you and you’re still friends with him?” gojo asks, his face scrunched up. “i mean, it was a while ago. i’m just glad he found someone else.” you shrug your shoulders, placing a few of the cookies into a plastic bag. “i see.” gojo mutters.

you walk out the kitchen to give your customers their orders, then happily taking them and paying you. “well, that’s the last of the day.” you smile to gojo, who was following behind you. “if you help me clean you can get a present afterwards.” you whisper, rubbing your thighs together. “is that so?” gojo whispers back, leaning over you. “mhm.” you hum, pressing a kiss to his lips. “but firssttt, cleaning.” you grin, handing gojo a broom. he groans and then smiles at you, grabbing your face with one hand to press a kiss to your lips one last time. “alright, ma’am.” gojo says, walking into the main entrance and starts sweeping. you grabbed a pair of gloves and started cleaning your counter and washing a few dishes. once you and gojo were both finished, you both plopped into one of the booths.

“hard day, huh sweetheart?” gojo asks, pulling you closer to him. “very. had more customers than usual lately. might have to start hiring…” you reply, fumbling with the hem of gojo’s shirt. “mmm…i can always help you, baby. i can always take some time off.” gojo suggests, rubbing your thigh. “no, no. your job is more important than mine.” gojo’s face scrunched up at this, a disapproving sigh falling from his lips. “nonsense. i am proud to say that my wife has one of the most successful bakeries in the city.” he smiles, pulling you onto his lap. gojo starts to kiss at your collarbone, looking up at you as your head lolls back in ecstasy.

“‘m gonna take you right here, yeah? is that okay with you?” gojo breathes out against your neck. you let out an airily laugh and a barely audible “yeah” and gojo starts to unbutton your shorts, unzipping them. you help gojo by shimmying out of them, your white lacy panties now soaked. “you’re so pretty, sweetheart.” gojo compliments, reaching around under your shirt to unhook your bra. you watch as gojo starts to take your shirt off, you raising your arms to make it easier. gojo sits you on the table, admiring your body. “my wife is so pretty…” gojo whines to himself, letting his hands roam around your body.

“gojo…” you mewl, arching your back. “i’m right here, baby…” he responds, pressing kisses down your stomach. “t-this isn’t sanitary…” you mumble, seeing gojo let out a chuckle. “it’s alright. we’ll be sure to clean it real good afterwards.” gojo smirked, pulling your panties aside. gojo pressed open mouthed kisses to your cute pussy, his nose nudging your clit. your hand moves to the back of his head, forcing the lower half of his face into your pussy. “that’s it, baby…fuckkk!” you moan,your thighs clenching against his head. gojo patted the inside of your thighs, signaling for you to open your legs. you whined and open up a little bit more, gojo running his hands along your thigh.

your sighs and moans eventually got louder, taking over you and gojo’s ears. which is why neither of you heard he shop door being opened. “y/n, that cinnamon-“ geto was cut off by the sight of you two, his lips pursing together. he lets out a nervous sigh, him feeling blood rush down to his dick. “shit, baby!” you moan, arching your back. “‘m gonna cum!” you warn gojo, your head falling to where the shop door was. geto’s eyes widened, him choking back a gasp. you eventually came with a groan. “shit, gojo…” you laughed, opening your eyes. your eyes widened at the sight of geto. “shit! hey!” you greeted geto in the least flustered way you could muster.

“uhh, i get it’s a bad time, sorry.” geto apologizes, putting his hands up in defense. geto turns on his heel, about to walk out the door before gojo let out a laugh. “stay. i wouldn’t mind sharing.” gojo laughs, looking at you. “would you mind, sweetheart?” you take a few moments, looking at the two men. “not at all…” you smile. “perfect.” gojo picks you up and walks you into the break room, laying you on the pink couch that you put in there. “cmon in, big boy.” gojo coaxes geto into the room. geto can feel his dick straining against his pants, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of you with your tits out and your legs open wide.

geto stalks closer to you, hovering over you and slotting a knee between your legs. “you’re so pretty…” geto whispers, pressing kisses to your lips. gojo smirks and leaves the room, walking into your little kitchen and opening the fridge door. he grabs the whipped cream and shakes it up a bit, putting a dollop in his mouth and walking back to you and geto. gojo places the whipped cream on the side of the couch, geto pulling away when he saw gojo’s feet. geto looks up at him, his breath getting heavier. “jesus. you’re such a dog, aren’t you?” gojo mocks, forcefully moving geto from on top of you and putting you on all fours on the couch.

gojo sits behind you while geto sat in front of you, geto only in his boxers. “hand me that, yeah?” gojo asks, pointing to the whipped cream. geto grabs it and hands it to gojo. he puts a mound of whipped cream on the small of your back. you let out a little “oh” at the feeling. gojo brings a hand down and smears it along your ass, some of it getting between your ass cheeks. “don’t just stare. shove your dick down her throat.” gojo says to geto. geto’s eyes widen and he takes his boxers off, his dick hitting almost above his bellybutton. you look up at geto, arching your back and grabbing his dick with two hands.

gojo is still behind you eating your ass, the whipped cream making it even more sweet. “shit..” you moaned on geto’s dick. he bucked his hips up at the feeling, mumbling out “sorry”’s. geto’s hand tangled into your hair, pushing you down farther onto his dick. you coughed and sputtered a bit, still taking him in your mouth. “ah shit…” gojo mutters, pulling away from your ass to rub your clit a bit. “that’s it…” gojos smiles. geto cums into your mouth with a groan. “mhmmm…” you moan, rolling your eyes back. you pop off of his dick and smile at him, kissing along his abs. “come get a taste, yeah?” gojo asks, looking at geto. gojo and geto switch places. now you and gojo are facing each other with you sitting on geto’s face.

“you’re so pretty, baby.” gojo smiles, pressing kisses to your lips. you hold onto gojo’s thighs while grinding on geto’s face. “thank you, baby…” you moan, kissing him back. the kisses are sloppy and wet, sounding almost identical to the sound of geto eating you out. “oh my god..” geto moaned into your ass, his hands grabbing at your ass cheeks. “m gonna cum again..” you warn geto, grinding even harder. “cum baby.” gojo whispered in your ear. you came with a loud moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. “oh shitttt…” geto moaned from under you. you rode out your high for a minute, letting out pants and whines. gojo picked you up, you wrapping your legs around his waist.

“you can go now. hope you didn’t think i was gonna let you stay.” gojo smirked. geto pursed his lips together, standing up and scurrying out the shop.

“i really wanna know what he thought about the cinnamon roll.”

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iavenjqasdf · 4 months

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❄cubbification🐻

I don’t mind the Cubs. I’m not really a big sports guy, so I don’t know if they’re like, problematic or anything. They kinda just seem like any other baseball kinda team to me? (Please let me know if I’m ever swerving out of my lane by saying something like that, by the way; I’m really trying my hardest to learn and do better.)

But when you're visiting the beautiful city of Chicago, and you're so cold from having just got kicked out of the hostel where all your stuff is, because they don't believe that you ever checked in or were ever supposed to be in there in the first place, and when you start to choke up in frustration they say they’re going to call the cops if you don’t immediately leave the property, so you have no choice but to run out into the cold city night without even a jacket, snow swirling all around, catching the taillights of passing Ubers in a shitty bleary unromantic gray kind of way, and you try to take a hit off your $10 disposable weed pen ($14 after tax) for a bit of warmth, that little disposable oil battery that you were so brave for sneaking through the TSA all the way from Cali (where the weed is cheaper AND it's actually good for you), but the light blinks because its out of juice and you don’t know where you can go to recharge it, and suddenly you realize as you're standing on the curb that a kind stranger has found you and is offering to give you a real taste of Chicago if only you'd get in the back of his big warm car, and hey, the whole reason I came here was because I want that authentic experience, and also to not freeze to death, and who better to make both of my dreams come true than a local, and he's even wearing a Cubs hoodie, you kinda can’t say no, right?

So I climb into the second row of his nice toasty American-made SUV, and he punches Portillo's into the GPS and I buckle up, and suddenly it’s just like I’m a kid again, going out to eat with my parents-

well, just one of them, but that’s accurate to my childhood experience, too.

He asks if I have anywhere to be, if anyone’s expecting me anywhere, and I get a bit whiny when I say nooooo, but he just chuckles and tells me that that's good because he’s gonna show me someplace really cool, and I say that sounds nice.

My legs dangle around as I begin to warm up. I look out the window, and the traffic lights and snow are a cute little screensaver again, instead of a bitter cold reality I can’t shelter myself against.

I reflexively try to take another hit off the weed pen, forgetting that it’s still empty. He tells me not to smoke in his car.

It’s kind of hard to say no to in the moment.

We pull into the Portillo's drive thru, and I squint through the snowy window, unable to read the menu. He says don’t worry, I’ll order for you, so I settle back into my seat, listening to the faint Christmas music playing from inside the restaurant, or maybe from the car ahead of us, but also enjoying the otherwise mostly silence in this one.

A few minutes later, the window hands him three bags, and he hands one back to me as he pulls back onto the road. I gleefully tear into it, there’s a big thing of fries and a sandwich with beef and gravy and several types of peppers (I'm sure there's a term for it, but I'm not a local foodie, so I don't know what it is, sorry), and he hands me a big milkshake too, and I’m so excited and so happy, I have warm food and warm feelings and feel safe and happy again.

The next several minutes are spent laser-focused on ravenously devouring my meal, and it’s only when all the food is gone, all the greasy wrappers and fry boxes and an empty Styrofoam milkshake cup carefully crumpled up and placed back into the bag for easy disposal, that I sit back, rubbing my stuffed overfed belly as I glance out the window again.

All I see is a gray dead snow stretching into the dusk all around, and I realize we’re no longer in the city, or any place I can actually recognize.

I ask where we’re going, and he doesn’t answer. I theorize he just didn’t hear me, and continue not testing that theory.

It’s getting kind of cold again; I realize he's had his window sill cracked this whole time and the heater isn’t on anymore, so all the warmth has slowly leached out of the car into the dark snowy expanse, draining my energy along with it.

I scrounge around, and realize the floor of the car isn’t covered in plush limousine carpet; it's just old clothes strewn around. With the Italian beef aromas now safely contained within me, I realize it smells kinda bad in here actually.

I awkwardly tug at the door handle; not because I want to hurl myself out onto the road or anything, just to see if it would open, for future reference. But it doesn’t. I try taking a hit off the weed pen, but it's still empty.

I think about asking where he’s taking me again, but I realize there really can’t be a good answer to that question at this point.

My stomach grumbles, and I wish I was back somewhere warm and safe again.

---

It’s dark out when I come to again.

(Yeah, so I fell asleep. It was actually my choice to do that. In this weather, 5 miles from civilization might as well be 500, and I'm not asking for another ride even if one comes. I gotta maintain appearances, conserve my strength, wait for the right moment to make my lucky escape back to the civilized world.)

From back here, it’s hard to get a good angle on his face, dimly lit up by the navigation app on his phone that says we’re only a few minutes away from somewhere.

His brow tightens; he must've noticed me waking up. I think I ask him where we’re going again, and maybe he just didn’t hear again, because he definitely doesn’t answer.

He still hasn't closed his window, but he’s now wrapped in a crusty old green and yellow blanket, the one I remember staring at on the floor as I dozed off.

If I’d woken up with really miraculous timing, maybe I could’ve gotten away while he was getting that, but if I had that kind of luck, I probably wouldn’t be locked in a stranger’s car on a dark snowy night to begin with.

The GPS helpfully informs us that we've arrived at our destination.

He pulls off the side of the road onto a dark shoulder, overlooking a sad little ditch; it's only a couple of feet down, but it’s flat enough all around that it'd be enough to hide me from the road for long enough that he’d get away with it.

He kills the lights, and I hear him unbuckling his seatbelt, form silhouetted by a distant streetlight, flurries of white piling up on the glass and all around us as he emerges from his blanket cocoon, tugging his hoodie off.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, too, shivering and whimpering as I scoot back to the third row, but he doesn’t miss a beat, just keeps approaching me in the dark with that silent unknowable menace.

By the time I hear his switchblade click open, I barely even have to react. I knew it'd be coming any second now. I’ve read movies, I’ve seen books.

"Didn't your mommy and daddy ever tell you not to get in a car with a stranger?" he asks. Kind of a shitty joke to make to someone with divorced parents but whatever.

The light behind him crescendos, his blade catching the reflection just so. Horns swell on the soundtrack, the sight of it burns into my wide terrified pupils as he raises it over my cowering form. The dark space is illuminated for just a moment, then for another moment, and then another, getting brighter…

And those horns are starting to sound a lot like a truck’s-

The entire world slams apart around me as an out-of-control 18-wheeler veers off the road into us, ramming through all those feet of steel designed to deform and crush, deflect the impact away from my vulnerable little body. We tumble around in the washingmachinelike sleetstorm of twisted metal and shards of ice and cold glass and ragged shirts and stale fries and a big heavy bleeding body as the disaster skids into the icy dark. As the SUV comes to a rest on its ceiling, I somehow find the strength and coordination to scramble my way through, using a thick piece of cloth that catches underhand to wriggle out through a jagged windowpane, squirming towards the fire illuminating the flurries under the darkest indigo sky, a beacon blazing in the darkness, like the cherry at the end of a cigarette of a trailer, brandishing the BUCK-A-POP'S DOLLARSTYLE MERCHWORLD logo in chic saturated colors, paint peeling off from the heat of the flames roaring all around.

In the numbing cold, I tug the tattered cum-stained Cubs hoodie I'm holding onto my scared shivering body. It smells like menace and onion ring grease, but it provides me with enough warmth that I’m able to stay conscious until the paramedics arrive at the scene and get me to stop sitting cross-legged on the snow, breathing in the toxic merchandise fumes, still trying to hit the dead weed pen clutched tight in my fist.

When they finally pull him out of the wreckage, they find the switchblade lodged in one of his arteries, honey mustard still clinging to his lips.

ao3

#📝#standalone #go cubs!!!!!!!!!#original fiction #Chicago Cubs

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 3 months

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FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2024 #9: In which Cameron affirms her partnership with Donna

[CN: food/eating breakfast] . . Cameron, who struggled every day to drag herself out of bed at the crack of 9am, got up at 6:30 the morning after she escorted Donna to Planned Parenthood. Unable and also not really willing to go back to sleep, she showered, dressed, and snuck out without waking Tom.

She got into the Jeep and drove off in a hurry, only to drive in slow circles for a while, unsure of where she should go at 7 am. She eventually went to a nearby park that had a small manmade lake surrounded by benches. She sat by the water, put on her headphones, and scribbled and doodled in her journal while she listened to the new Hüsker Dü album. And then, finally, at 8:30 she got back into her car, and drove to the nearest Waffle House, where she ordered enough food for at least four people, and then she drove to Donna’s.

Donna answered the door in her pajamas and robe. “Wow,” she said by way of greeting, eyeing the large bag of styrofoam food containers Cameron was cradling.

“Hi,” Cameron said, nervously. “I thought you might want some breakfast?” With that, Donna stepped aside so Cameron could come in.

Wordlessly, Cameron followed Donna into the kitchen. When she started to get plates and glasses from the counters, Cameron fussed at her, “No, let me do that, relax.” She put the food on the table, and got flatware for them both. When Donna finally sat down at the table, Cameron asked, “How are you? Are you okay?”

Evenly, Donna replied, “I’m fine. But thank you for asking.”

When Cameron opened one the container with not one but two servings of biscuits and gravy for her, Donna looked like she might cry, but she scraped half of it onto her plate and started to eat instead. Relieved, Cameron served herself a large helping of scrambled eggs, bacon, and home fries. Donna had some of the eggs and bacon, too, and ate as if she were ravenous. “This will probably made me sick,” she said between bites. “I don’t care though.”

After they ate, Donna insisted on putting on some coffee again, and then went upstairs. She came back downstairs in a sweater, sweatpants, and sneakers, her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. As she poured mugs of coffee for them, she asked, “Is it nice enough for us to have our coffee outside? It looks sunny.” Cameron confirmed that it was nice, and they took their mugs out to the picnic table behind the house.

“I should have stayed here last night,” Cameron said as Donna sipped her coffee.

Donna had been surprised when Cameron offered to stay at her house that night. The idea of her staying the night at her house, while her husband and children were conveniently off on vacation, had made Donna uncomfortable for reasons that she hadn’t fully been able to articulate to herself, much less process.

“That you asked if I needed you to was more than enough, and I appreciate it,” Donna said. “I was fine, though. Gordon and the girls called, and after I talked to them I got plenty of rest.”

Feeling like she already knew the answer to her question, Cameron asked, “Are you gonna tell him?”

Donna sighed. Staring off into the distance, toward the house behind hers, she said, “No. It would just upset us both. He wouldn’t understand my decision, or that it’s not for him to understand.”

Cameron winced. “Hell of a secret to keep.” Then, anxiously, she added, “I’m not judging you. I feel like I’d probably do the same, and like most people would judge us for it. Like, ‘Oh, but that’s his child,’ or whatever.”

Darkly, Donna said, “Right. Well, he’s not the one who’d be doing all the work. Or all the worrying. I don’t think he understands that, either.”

“Really?” Cameron said. “He wouldn’t understand that you’d be doing most of the work of actually having the baby?” She let out a low whistle. “So much for Gordo the Boygenius.”

Donna let out a cackle, and nearly spilled some of her coffee.

Feeling mildly guilty, Cameron shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and said, “I got up early this morning, so I could leave before Tom got up. He asked me where we went last night, and got pissed when I wouldn’t tell him.”

Donna looked down into her mug, Curtly, she said, “So sorry to cause trouble in your relationship.”

Cameron frowned. “That’s not - that isn’t how I meant that, I’m sorry. I just meant, I don’t think he’d get it, either. Or that it’s not my place to tell him about something like this. Also,” her voice sharpened considerably, “it’s just, not his business?”

Donna looked up to see Cameron’s genuinely, outrageously beautiful face scrunched with supreme annoyance, and was so endeared by it that she chuckled affectionately at her.

“Why are men like that? I’ve met literally one man who can handle it with some grace when something doesn’t involve him,” Cameron groused, “and that would be Bos.”

Donna sighed again. “I was going to say that I don’t know, but I think I do know why the majority of men are like that, but, I don’t have the energy to get into it today. Literally, don’t get me started.” She stirred what was left of her coffee dejectedly.

Cameron watched Donna swirl her spoon around in her mug. Hesitantly, she admitted, “The thing is, you’re my partner. And Tom isn’t. I guess that bothers him, but, his feelings about it are irrelevant.”

Donna, of course, had noticed this, and also Tom’s irritating tendency to self-deputize at work, telling the other staff members what to do without being prompted. Rather than argue with him, or with Cameron, she’d made a habit of quietly give their coworkers different instructions.

Abruptly, Cameron said, “I’m sorry that I hired Tom without asking you first. Like, really sorry. That wasn’t cool.”

Donna glanced up at her. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“And I’m sorry for every dickish thing I’ve said about Gordon. They might be true, but, I still shouldn’t have said them.”

Cameron’s candid apology made Donna think of Joanie, and how she acted when Donna would make her apologize for saying something inappropriate. She laughed again.”

Cameron sat up straight, only to slouch back down again, elbows on the table, and rested her chin in her hands. “It’s just, you’re really great Donna. And you really deserve for the people around you to get how great you are.”

Donna smiled sadly, but warmly at Cameron. “I do have people like that around me.”

Cameron was unconvinced, but didn’t say so. Instead, she asked, “So when do Gordon and the girls get back? You said they’re coming home tomorrow, right?”

“Yep,” Donna nodded.

“Do you mind if I hang out here for a while? If you’re in the mood for company?” Cameron asked.

Donna grinned. at her. “I would love some company for a little while.”

#femslash february #femslash feb 2024 #fan fic #donna clark #donna emerson #cameron howe

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haunted-headset · 6 months

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WIP Snippets

Sanborn View As we watched Zircon feed the ducks, Friend swam over and rested its head on Zircon's palm. Zircon beamed at his new pet & asked, "Isn't Friend adorable?" We agreed that Friend was indeed cute, & Zircon's smile widened. Suddenly, his expression changed & he looked serious. “You okay, bud?” Maza said. “Well, I’ve been having some not-so-nice thoughts,” Zircon said, “but we don’t like those thoughts, so I’ve ignored them.” “What kind of bad thoughts?” Maza raised his brow. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped. We didn’t pry any further.

Love is in the Air “And turn your music down,” Mama scolded. “I can hear your bad taste of tunes from over here.” “First of all, my music taste is great, thank you,” I said. “And second of all, never say ‘tunes’ again. That sounds weird.” “¡No le hables así a tu mamá, Trudy!” Mama said. “¡Sólo estoy siendo honesto!” I said angrily. “¡Jesucristo, mamá!”

30 People 30 Days “Seriously, what is your problem?” Colleen said. “You’ve been an asshole ever since you’ve got here.” “If you don’t like me, cool, see if I give a fuck, but you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” Vinnie said, going back to eating. He took a spoonful, scrunched his face up, and spit it out. “This tastes like styrofoam.” “Maybe it is styrofoam and today’s the day you die,” Kai said creepily with a smile. Vinnie blinked twice and said, “When did he get here?” “Oh, not too long ago,” Kai replied, the same eerie smile still on his face. “Not long ago at all.” Lassi, who was sitting next to Kai on the right, slowly shifted herself away from him.

Dreams Are All I Feel (I wrote this when I was 9 & it sucks ass) “Golden gears,” Milo said, mainly to herself, in amazement. But suddenly, the gears were flooded with dark purple & blackness. Her breathing unexpectedly sped up & beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. The gears began to shake violently. The gears became razor-sharp spinning silver blades, & the wall of blades started to get closer and closer. Milo screamed & tried to run, but the warmness from her hands stopped her, pulled her back. She tossed her head & screamed with fear. “Milo!” Grim’s harsh voice yelled. He then said in a sincere but stern tone, “Milo. Milo, listen to me. Milo, focus on my voice. I’m not going to let anything hurt you.” “Blades!” Milo could manage to scream. “There’s a wall of blades!” “Shit,” Grim said under his breath. “Milo. Milo, listen to me. Focus on my voice, Milo. Focus on me. Focus on my hands.” Milo realized that the warmth she felt was from Grim’s hands. “Listen to my voice. Focus on that & nothing else. I can’t bring you back if you don’t.” “Gonna die, gonna die, gonna die!” Milo screamed. She was having a panic attack. She wanted to focus, wanted so badly for this to be over, but the wall of blades was only 6 feet away. “Milo.” 5 feet away.

“Milo, please, I need you to hear me.”

4 feet away.

“Milo!”

3 feet away.

“MILO!” It was Ebony’s voice this time.

2 feet away.

“Holy shit, Milo!” Grim’s voice again.

1 foot away.

Her eyelids were forced open by Grim’s fingers, and the wall was gone. She was shaking violently, and she was about to fall over.

@joviepog @vibestillaxxx @themonsterunderurmom @crows-death @smolsleepykitten

#my wips #wip #current wip #work in progress #wip stuff

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spirirsstuff · 1 year

Text

im gonna post the first part of afterdeath thing

im working on the second part now so yeah enjoy

if there’s any grammar/spelling issues blame it on my phone for not catching those since i was tired when i wrote a lot of it

@skelle404 i know you enjoy afterdeath

“Mmmng,” Geno grumbled, looking down at his poem, “what the hell is next?”

He put his pen down, pushing his chair back and spun it around a couple times. Takeout sounded kind of good, and he didn’t feel like making food.

Getting up, Geno went outside, locked the door, and started walking to the Chinese restaurant. It was a good walk away, but he didn’t mind, he needed it after spending all day on that stupid poem.

After about 20 minutes, Geno reached the restaurant. He walked in, admiring the art painted onto the walls. The delicate leaves on the cherry blossom tree. The individual brush strokes to make texture on the panda. Nothing he could ever do himself.

Walking to the counter, Geno already knew what he was going to say after the person at the register asked what he wanted.

“I want a sweet and sour chicken with some fried dumplings for takeout. And can I get an extra box, please?” Geno usually got an extra box, finding them useful for storing pens and notepads and other small things he used on a daily basis.

The cashier rung him up and he waited a few minutes before receiving his food. He walked out with the bag and back to his house.

About halfway to his house, Geno heard a loud thump from behind him. When he turned around, he saw a black spot in the grass about 10 feet back, and decided to go back and investigate it.

As he approached, he noticed that it was a bird lying in the grass, it’s wing bent oddly beside it. It seemed to be unconscious. Geno suspected it could have been the noise he heard, but dismissed that because of the bird’s size. It was larger than your average pigeon or crow, and he concluded that it was a raven with a few Google searches.

Geno got the empty box out of his bag and gently lifted the raven into the styrofoam, it’s tail and head sticking out a bit. He then carried the bag in one hand and the bird in the other as he walked home.

It was about 7 when Geno got home. He sat the box with the raven in it on one side of the table and the bag with the food on the other as he walked into the kitchen to get a cup of water.

As he came back in and sat down, he looked up what ravens ate, how to heal broken wings, things like that. Never in his life had he had to deal with an injured bird, and he never anticipated that he would have to. He began eating his food and kept researching so that he could keep this bird healthy while it healed.

After he ate, Geno went into the living room, turning the TV on to watch Hell’s Kitchen, as he thought it was funny watching Gordon Ramsay complain about everyone and everything. He could cook - not well enough to be on a cooking show - but rarely felt like it. Writing poems was hard enough.

After a few episodes and about two hours, Geno heard a weak sound and feathers ruffling against something. He walked over to check on the raven, whose head seemed to be up and looking around, eventually making eye contact with Geno.

“Hey there,” Geno said softly, walking closer towards the raven. It rolled over and stood up, but didn’t try to fly away like he expected, but stepped out of the box and walked over to Geno.

“You’re hurt, little buddy. I’m gonna keep you here for a while and help you heal, alright? So don’t trash my house.”

Geno reached towards the raven, stroking the feathers on its throat until-

“AH SHIT WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!” Geno yelped, pulling his hand away. The raven cawed with delight, almost like a laugh at its handiwork.

“You’re going to be a handful,” Geno muttered. His phalange hadn’t drawn marrow, it was just hurting a lot. Stupid bird.

“If I give you food, will you stop resorting to violence? It said on the website that you eat pretty much anything.”

The raven attempted to jump up and fly, but fell back onto the table before it could get into the air. Maybe it broke its wing from the fall when Geno found it earlier.

Geno picked up the bird. “Don’t fly. You’ll hurt yourself worse and I don’t need to keep you any longer than I have to.” He then carried it to the kitchen, where he found a jar of nuts and poured some out on the counter, setting the raven down. It starting to eat them, happily squawking in between.

“Hungry, huh? Why don’t you eat and then I’ll do something about that wing,” Geno said, smiling. The raven didn’t seem bothered to be at his house, rather it seemed happy to be there.

After a few minutes, the raven had finished its food and Geno picked it up, getting some bandages out of a cabinet.

“This shouldn’t hurt if I do it right. Don’t squirm around and it’ll be fine,” Geno said, moving the bird to the table and picking its wing up, moving it into a natural position. Then he wrapped the bandage around as instructed, taping it to finish it off.

“There you go, you should be good to go in a few weeks. Feel better?”

The raven was seemingly fine with this makeshift cast, cawing and perching on Geno’s hand.

“Don’t make yourself too comfy,” Geno chuckled, “I’m going to sleep soon.” The raven ignored him and sat there, looking up at Geno as he walked over to the couch.

Once Geno sat down, the raven hopped up onto Geno’s shoulder, sitting there.

“So you’re gonna sit there and watch, huh? I hope you like Gordon Ramsay,” Geno said, petting the top of the bird’s head with his phalange. Maybe it was annoying, sure, but it was also sort of sweet.

After a while, Geno fell asleep on the couch. When he woke up later that night, he found that the lights and TV were shut off, a blanket was draped over him, and the raven was sleeping on his shoulder. He didn’t remember turning the lights off or getting a blanket, but maybe he just forgot.

“Good night, you crazy bird.”

[Part 2]

#randomrambles #i’ll put it on ao3 later once i get my wifi back and can actually check the grammar

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normanbased · 1 year

Note

YIPPEE also: i forgot to mention these two in my list of Music Mary Introduced Norman To (iirc it was elton john, fleetwood mac, and billy joel) but. she strikes me as the type to listen to cyndi lauper and kate bush. this definitely isn’t a prompt i just felt the need to bring it up

i have. a few headcanons but i dont wanna flood your inbox so im just gonna rattle off as many of em as i can :D👍

norman derives a lot of comfort from stuffed animals but since getting back from the institution he’s become really embarrassed about it

he has a pretty limited range of safe foods because either Taste Bad or Texture Bad. usually Texture Bad

he’s really warm. he doesn’t notice it, but whenever mary hugs him or something she’s like “holy shit you’re cozy”

tbh. i feel like norman forgets to eat pretty often. partly because sometimes he just… doesn’t realize when he’s hungry until it starts to Feel Really Bad

now that ive written these i am hella curious as to your thoughts on ‘em! again they’re not quite prompts but they can def be fodder for something!

I LOVE ALL OF THESE!! Also don’t u dare be afraid of flooding my inbox, I WISH my Inbox was flooded.

I can imagine the institution really did it’s best to just crush any decent coping mechanisms Norman had. They probably thought it would help him “grow up” or deter his age regression (I know that’s only technically canon to the book, but Tony performs those parts even when it’s not necessarily in the script. He’s so good at knowing when to put Norman in a childlike mindset). Suggestion: Modern AU where Mary takes Norman to Build-A-Bear?

The thing that’s so funny to me about Norman’s horrendous eating habits is that Tony was JUST AS BAD 💀 his milk drinking was fucking infamous. He lived on grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate junket pudding. He adored hamburgers and literally has multiple quotes saying “I was trying to listen to this director/someone who was speaking to me, but I was sooooo hungry I wanted a cheeseburger SOOOOOO bad 😫”. They both love to eat garbage basically, and u know what? Slay.

And now I’m like really thinking about the stuff Norman eats and Jesus Christ. it really is just candy corn, fried chicken steak, grilled cheese sandwiches, peanut butter, milk… like… girl … EAT A REAL MEAL 💀💥 even when he DOES remember to eat, he’s just eating the most horrendous crap. No wonder he doesn’t put on weight, he’s eating like.. styrofoam.

Also the Kate Bush fan hc for Mary is SO real. I bet she likes The Police too I can totally imagine her and Norman jamming out to some of their tracks.

#me rambling along with you because <3 #norman bates #psycho (1960)#small Tony Perkins mention #ask

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starlightrows · 2 years

Text

Welcome back to Krax (re)Watches

Today we’re watching

Episode I and II of Kenobi

Episode I

The recap of the prequels got me. No tears yet, but close

NO! I thought I would get at least a few minutes before having to rewatch Order 66 AGAIN

Also clones. I’m crying

The inquisitors are so fucking pale I feel like they would be instantly sun burnt on Tatooine

Is… this the guy that plays Lord Varys in Game of Thrones?

I feel like this start is… kinda weak?

Prop meat that is very clearly made of styrofoam still somehow looks kinda good… I’d eat it

Oh Ewan McGregor, how I’ve missed you

We love a Star Wars poncho

Obi Wan on that commuting hella far to and from work life… can relate babe… can relate

Honestly, this is a pretty bit chin cave he’s got

And that food looks… nasty

Bebe Luke 🥹 pretending to fly a star ship…. And I’m weeping

He left in a present 😫 I’m weak

Obi Wan is so defeated… and I don’t even blame him

YES Bebe Leia is a wild child!!!!

Okay so I want that little baby droid

LEIA ORGANA, Breha did not come to play

Is he okay? 🥹

Hey, fuck you Owen…

Shit. Fuck. Okay.

Owen… OWEN… snitches get stitches bitch… don’t you be snitchin’

The awkward clunky formality of “third sister” and “grand inquisitor” is kind of annoying

Bail, still looking fine as fuck, as always

3-PO!!!!

Get him Leia! GET HIS ASS!

This little girl is KILLING it! I wish Carrie was around to see it

Bail with the good parenting 🥹

Not me getting reminded that Alderaan gets destroyed… it’s such a gorgeous planet

Shit… how the fuck did these people get close enough to the palace to have access to these woods where Leia is known to play and hide

ARE THOSE HIS ROBES?!

SHE NEEDS YOU OBI WAN

I’m fucking crying

Obi Wan Kenobi…. What the fuck is wrong with you? What good do you think you’re doing by allowing Leia, Anakin’s CHILD be kidnapped?

NO LOLA!

This person playing the bad guy… he could probably play a good Crosshair

Not me sobbing over the lightsabers

Episode II

Star Tours vibes

I’m really loving this beard

CLONE

TEM IS THAT YOU?

WHO?! WHO ARE YOU?! WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

No one gives drugs away for free.

I kind of hope this guy is a real Jedi, pretending to be a fake

Hearing the signature inflection of Ewan’s Obi Wan voice, returning to his character is kind of overwhelming me. But in a good way

Obi Wan who doesn’t like blasters, using a blaster to gently threaten and extort a con artist.. chefs kiss

Where the fuck did you get the smock and gas mask?

Casual use of The Force to boil and explode a glass jar

Hey a Dathomirian that’s not Darth Maul. Cool!

“Well, everybody bleeds” SHIT BOY! Fuck ‘em up Obi Wan

We all thought this was gonna be about Obi Wan watching over Luke. We didn’t think it would be about Obi Wan having to deal with a somehow smaller and now female version of Anakin

Look. I’m not rooting for the Inquisitors here, obviously, but the Third Sister is annoying

Obi can’t help it. He wants to get presents for his grand Jedi babies

Sassy Leia is amazing

My mom is sitting here saying “You were a wise ass like that when you were little”

Leia sort of isn’t wrong….. Stranger danger and all that…. In the words of my favorite podcast she SSDGM’d, fucked politeness, and ran

Reva/Third Sister out here acting like Batman on the rooftops

*incoherent screaming over Obi Wan using the force for the first time in 10 years*

FUCK I bet I was right! That guy was in the know

Disney still with the mind reading…. Don’t like

No, she was a leader….. FUCK ME RIGHT IN THE FEELINGS

Lord Vader…..

So… because this is all happening in the past. I already know how Obi Wan actually dies…. I don’t care about what’s going on with the Inquisitors. At all.

AAAAAAAAGHGGHHJSJHSEHOSJWNDHDH

Thank you for join me. Come back next week for Episode III

#Krax Chats #Krax Watches #Kenobi #Spoilers #kenobi spoilers

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what-ever-happened-to-chip · 1 year

Text

Gray confronts Noah

Fuck its been 3 months clean. I know it's good, but god damn I could use a hit now. He had been putting this off but remembering his conversation with Jesse the other day, he couldn't get it out of his mind. He needed to do something. What that something is he didn’t know.

Gray flashes back to conversation with Jesse a week ago

“Hey man, have you talked to your sister recently? Gray asked trying to look as cool and collected as possible.

“Seeing no one has had any contact with the other camp whatcha think my answers gonna be? By the way, your dick is hanging out and damn oh baby is he a beauty.”

Gray quickly shoves it back in.

“Well I heard Akio is still allowed to have Zoom sessions with patients so i thought i don’t know maybe ya somehow, I don’t know hacked in.”

“Jesus you can be a dumb cunt sometimes, first of all when have you ever seen Joni actually go see Akio and second thats only for certain patients and its heavily monitored and bullet proof. Plus do I look like a hacker? My whole body screams cool and heart throb not tweeby kid who used to have to eat other kids styrofoam lunch trays.”

“ I just, well,l I need to tell her I’m sorry.”

“Uh huh and I need a right good fuck and neither one of those things is gonna help either one of us.” Jesse slipped outta bed and went to his dresser. Rummaging around he pulled out what looked like a polaroid.

“Not that this really matters to you, but this is the only photo I have of Lily, the only time I will ever fuckin see her again, I used to see her, ya know make sure after life was going good, but nope thats ruined now because of your stupid fucking God complex trying to fix my sister.” Jesse stared at the photo awhile. He did the most saddest smile laugh and placed it back in its place. Seeing him serious for once made Gray very uncomfortable.

“And for the record dickweed you can’t fix her, fact that you think you can just proves how fucking stupid you really are.” Jesse walked towards the door and paused. “I for one wish I could solve your stupidity but I have a date with my left hand and I prefer this to be between me and God.” He used his hand to gesture Gray out the door, which he complied with.

Turning back to now, Gray stared at his wall with eyes closed. Gray as a point tried to never talk to Noah. Mostly cause he was jealous and knew it. Why would Joni want to use that guy as an emotional support? He was so skinny the wind could blow him over. At this Gray started touching his bicep in satisfaction. He’d been working out trying to get them back since quitting dope and the progress was phenomenal. If Harry was to see this his cum would slowly be staining his underwear. Gray thought more of Noah, the dude was stupider than a doorknob. He couldn’t even fucking read. Not that Gray read much but he could. Plus the guy didn’t even seem to like the same things as Joni. Gray did they both liked making fun of people, stupid movies and well the obvious ones of drugs. What the hell did she see in him? Shit thinking Noah, had given Gray more confidence. He was gonna confront him, the guy had to know what he did was wrong. Joni would have been able to heal but the guy didn’t think things through he just followed Joni like a sad little puppy with shit for brains.

Sighing Gray stood up. Looking in the mirror, he did a small narcissistic smile. Checked down to make sure his clothes were on and dick tucked in, he realized he’d lost his pants somewhere so put some on real quick. He thought of a shirt but he felt so proud of his muscles and decided to keep it off.

He left his room and began walking to Noahs. Natsu tried talking to him on way over, something about some new skank he was about to go bang but Gray brushed him off.

He approached the door, should he knock or just walk in? He contemplated for a bit and decided to just walk in. Door locks weren’t allowed so he didn’t have to worry about that.

Noah was laying in bed in dark, he had these blackout curtains so Gray could only see his outline from the light coming from the door. Fucker didn’t even move, fuck would he have to wake him up?

“Hey” Gray said in the most nonchalant voice he could muster. Fuck just seeing this guy he wanted to kick his ass.

A hello came from the bed. Good better to talk to him when he wasn’t all groggy from waking up. Gray closed door and opened up the curtains. Sun filled the room and he looked around. He had never been in here before. It was simple enough, just the bed and a dresser. He strolled to the dresser and saw a book on learning the alphabet. It was aimed for three year olds. Oh yeah Gray was much better.

By this time Noah had sat up and just was looking at Gray. After a long enough time to make it awkward he spoke “What are you doing in here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” Gray looked around for a chair but there wasn’t one and he sure as fuck wasn’t sitting on the bed next to him. He decided to just lean against the dresser. Yea that looked cool.

“Okay about what?” Noahs look was so distant it seemed he wasn’t even here. It made Gray slightly put off. Here he was and this dude couldn’t even keep his attention on him.

“About Joni, what the fuck else?”

“Okay”

Grays eye twitched. Okay? Thats all he can say is okay? god this guy didn’t even have good conversational skills what the Fuck did Joni see in him.

Gray waited for him to say more but he didn’t get it. Guess he would have to be the only one who knew how to say more then three words.

“So well I guess only way to say this is bluntly, so here it goes. It was fucked up what you did to Lily, she was Jonis daughter and you fucking killed her. Yea I get she told you too but you should know it wasn’t right, it wasn’t fucking right at all. I go through all this shit have to almost jerk people off to make this work so Joni can heal and then what after a day, just a fucking day you end her? Like what the fuck is that shit man?” Gray was pacing the room now flinging his hands around.

“And why the fuck have you been moping around your room ever since, its Joni who is upset and you act like its all about you, oh poor you, you feel fucking bad well you fucking should, this would have helped her, she needed that, I mean look at her shes been a trainwreck since I have known her and its only getting worse.”

Noah just sat with his legs on the floor staring at the ground. Gray wanted him to say something why was this fucker such a coward, he knew what he did was wrong thats why.

“Well do you have anything to say for yourself fucker?”

“No I don’t actually, I have nothing to say.”

Now Gray was really pissed, he found the alphabet book and threw it at Noah, who didn’t even bother to block it. Wow and his reflexes sucked, weird fucking choice Joni picked with this one.

“Yea well you better fucking say something cause I am this close to kicking the fuck outta you.”

Noah sighed heavily and walked over to the window. “Hmm I haven’t seen the sun in a while, it really is something you miss, you know.” Grays eyes burned into him. Guess it will have to be the hard way, he tried to talk not his fault this dude was fuckin autistic or something.

Noah turned and looked Gray up and down, almost as if he was seeing him here for the first time. “Okay so you want me to apologize for something you did wrong, is that it?” He said calmed and flatly

Gray was taken aback, if the dude had yelled it that woulda resonated more with him. What he did wrong what the fuck was this guy saying? God, guy didn’t even see what he did wrong. Gray almost woulda felt sad for him if he wasn’t so angry. In back of his mind Jesses words sung back to him ‘i won’t see her ever again because of you’ was that what he said? Something to that effect at least. Gray decided to stay with the angry path, much easier then thinking of his own blunders.

“I didn’t do anything wrong I was trying to help and you fucking ruined it.” Gray spat at him

“I ruined it you say? Thats interesting, I coulda swore I was the one to clean up your mess, You think it was easy for me, do you think I wanted to do it? No of course not, but I could at least see that is what Joni needed.”

Gray saw his point and knew it to be true but he couldn’t back down. No it had to be good for Joni it had to be. While he thought of something to say, Noah beat him to it.

“I know your intentions were good, but I don’t think you can look at yourself enough to see that it wasn’t for the best. It was opening a wound that had almost healed, well perhaps not almost but was at least scabbed. Now its bleeding again and well thats on you. Do you know true lost? Do you actually know how it feels to hurt? To hate yourself so many waking hours that all you can do move in any direction you can find just to keep moving? I don’t know a lot, I know what you did was wrong though, have I come to you to say this? No of course I haven’t because I assumed you were hurting inside from what you did. I guess I was wrong, proving again how much I don’t know.”

He paused to light a cigarette.. Gray didn’t know he smoked. Come to think of it, he really didn’t know anything about this guy.

“If you need to blame me, do it, I don’t mind, I have caused so much hurt and pain, what does it matter if just another person hates me. But let me tell you this, I do care if Joni hates me. I know you can’t understand what we have, I could explain it to you but I don’t know if I could find the right words of if you even want to hear them. I did what I thought was best for her and if I upset you in the process so be it.” Noah looked away from window and stared directly at Gray

“For you mean absolutely nothing to me, and she means everything to me.”

Gray couldn’t stop himself; he punched Noahs face as hard as he could manage. Noah fell to the ground and to Grays udder confusion started to laugh. He laughed so long and so hard Gray was convinced he must have brain damaged the guy even more than he already was.

Eventually Noah sat up and refound his cigarette to light again. Gray was so utterly at a loss of what to say he just said the first thing that popped up.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Noah paused to look at his cigarette before responding. “Seems we both know nothing of each other.” He stared up at Gray again with the intensity of before. Gray fought off looking away. No way was this guy going to make him feel uncomfortable.

Noah sighed and put his cigarette out of the window sill. Gazing out the window again he spoke

“I have made many mistakes, so many but what I did wasn’t a mistake, it needed to be done for a love I can’t fully understand. Ever since I have had this thing inside me.” He paused to place a hand on his chest. “I never thought I would ever be able to help anyone ever again, I never thought I would be able to care for anyone ever again. I accepted my fate as the villain, the bad man, the devil.” Noah placed his hand down and went back to sitting on the bed.

“This has showed me though I am not all bad, I really should thank you for this, I was in utter despair, a despair you can never know, but you here now, has shown me that I am capable of love, I am capable to help the ones I care about, even if to you it doesn’t appear that way, I know it and Joni knows it.”

Gray didn’t know what to say, his head was picking out the pieces that made him hate Noah, but it also saw the truth in what he said. And that part made Gray hate himself.

Noah sat on the bed gazing towards him. Gray couldn't take the look he had towards him. He shook his head and walked out of the room and continued to walk till he walked back to his room and dialed up his drug dealer.

#Noah #Gray #cheeseskittles

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wordsandupstead · 2 years

Text

Chapter 3 - “I’m Kelly, this is my boyfriend Ryan.”

In this chapter ... Hailey and Jay try to figure out what to do with the teenager Jay somewhat accidentally kidnapped the night before.

Not exactly undercover Upstead, but pretty close.

Previous Chapter // Masterlist

Hailey opens the door just seconds after Jay knocks. She was waiting for them, ready to greet them with a smile even though they woke her up in the middle of the night, “Hi Emma, you must be tired.” Emma simply mumbles hello, so Hailey continues, “That room right there is all yours and the bathroom is through there,” She motions toward the bathroom, “You can use anything you need. I wasn’t sure if you were bringing anything, so I put some toiletries out for you.”

Emma walks inside, barely making eye contact or acknowledging anything Hailey said. Jay, behind Emma, mouths thank you to Hailey. She just nods in response. Emma immediately disappears into the room Hailey had pointed her toward and shuts the door behind her.

Hailey turns to Jay, her eyes searching his for answers, for an explanation.

Jay knows the questions Hailey isn’t asking out loud, so he starts explaining. “I gave her my card, last month at the group home. I told her to call if she needed help. She called tonight.” The truth is Jay doesn’t exactly have a lot of information to give Hailey since Emma hasn’t volunteered much and he didn’t want to push her.

“She said her foster family kicked her out and she needed a ride back into the city, so I went to pick her up. She was gonna stay at a friends house, but they weren’t answering. I told her she could stay with me and I think that freaked her out, so I offered up your place instead. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Hailey says, “I’m glad you called. You know I don’t mind.”

“I owe you, Hails. Drinks on me.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” She says with a teasing smile.

“Good.” He responds, and silence falls between the two. They both look over at the closed bedroom door. “She’s probably not coming out til morning.” Jay guesses, and Hailey nods. “I’ll come back in the morning to sort everything out. Are you okay with her?”

Hailey nods with a reassuring smile, “We’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Jay.”

“Call if you need anything, and thank you Hailey, really.” Jay responds before seeing himself out.

As promised, Jay returns the next morning. He brings breakfast and coffee, along with hot chocolate for Emma. Hailey is awake, letting Jay in when he arrives, already holding a mug of coffee in her hand. Jay holds up the carrier of cups from the coffee shop, and Hailey smiles, “Thank you.” She takes her cup from the carrier and has one cup of coffee in each hand. Jay smiles and shakes his head at the sight before entering the apartment and placing the drink carrier and food down on the counter.

“She hasn’t come out yet. I don’t know if she’s awake or not.” Hailey softly answers the question Jay didn’t ask, but wanted to know.

Jay sits down at the kitchen counter, and Hailey takes the seat next to him, close enough that they can speak quietly to one another without Emma being able to easily overhear from her room if she is awake.

“So what now?” The question comes from Hailey as she opens the styrofoam container Jay hands her. A smile crosses her face at the food in front of her. She would have chosen the same thing. As partners, they’ve had many breakfasts together at various diners around the city, she just never thought Jay actually paid attention to her order.

“I don’t know, call her social worker so no one reports her missing?” Jay answers, he may have spent most of the night thinking, but he hasn’t found any clarity about what to do next.

“If the foster family kicked her out like you said they did, I don’t think they’ll be reporting her missing anytime soon. Why did they kick her out, anyway?”

“She didn’t say,” Jay responds. He grabs his own container of breakfast and starts eating. The conversation turns away from Emma relatively quickly since neither of them have much information or any real idea about what to do next. They decide to wait for Emma to wake up to try getting more information.

Emma finally emerges from the bedroom, long after Jay and Hailey had finished eating and moved to the couch. They both stop talking when they hear the door open.

“Can I borrow money for the bus? I have to go back.” Is the first thing she says while standing in the doorway of the guest room.

Jay just stares at her in shock, unable to believe what he just heard her say.

Hailey speaks up before Jay can gather his thoughts enough to respond, “Good morning Emma, Jay brought breakfast if you’d like some.”

Emma must be hungry because she drops the topic of the bus pass and approaches the kitchen. Hailey follows her, giving her the breakfast Jay had bought for her.

“I didn’t know what you’d like so I just got pancakes and eggs and bacon.” Jay finally speaks, joining them in the kitchen.

“Thanks.” Emma responds, sitting down and digging in to her breakfast.

They let her eat without interruption for a while until Hailey breaks the silence, “Do you mind telling us what happened last night?”

Emma stops eating. “Will you help me get back?” Both Jay and Hailey notice the way she seems to almost be trying to use information as a bargaining chip.

“We just want to make sure you’re safe.” Hailey responds, not making any promises she isn’t sure she can keep.

Emma looks like she’s considering her options for a few seconds, but finally she says. “I have to go back. He’ll let me back in today, he was just upset last night.”

“Who was upset?” Hailey gently prods.

“The dad found out there was water in their vodka bottles and some of their other alcohol was gone. He thought I did it. I didn’t do it. It was their son, but of course he’s going to believe him over me. They’re really not that bad. Better than most foster homes, he was just drunk and upset last night.” The words fall from her mouth in a rush.

“Emma,” Jay says slowly. “He locked you out of the house in thirty degree weather at one in the morning. He can’t do that. It doesn’t matter what happened or what he thought you might have done, that’s not okay.” He’s having a hard time wrapping his mind around why this girl would want to go back after that happened to her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. It was just so cold and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have my wallet or anything. But now I just need to go back. The mom’s getting back home today. She was out of town for work, so everything will be fine because she’s getting back today.”

“You did the right thing by calling.” Jay doesn’t say the second part that he’s thinking, which is who knows what would have happened to her if she didn’t call, if he didn’t pick her up. “Maybe we can call your social worker and see if she can help you out.”

”No, don’t call her. I can’t tell her. She’s not going to help me, and they’ll just be upset that she found out.”

This all sounds convoluted and messed up to Jay. This system is supposed to be in place to protect kids like Emma, but if she doesn’t want to call her social worker, if her social worker won’t help her, who does she have in her corner?

Jay takes a deep breath. “You’re going to go back and hope they let you in after they locked you out last night?” Jay clarifies, hoping she’ll hear him and realize how messed up it is.

“Yes.” She responds immediately, clearly not seeing anything differently.

Hailey cuts in now. “If we take you back, you have to promise to call one of us if something, anything like this or anything at all happens again.”

Jay’s attention immediately snaps toward Hailey.

“Okay.” Emma agrees.

Jay wants to put a stop to this, to say he doesn’t think taking her back is the right move, but Hailey continues, “And when we take you back, we get to talk to the foster family.”

Emma hesitates now, looking unsure, so Hailey continues. “It’s either that or we call your social worker. We’re not just letting you go back if we don’t know it’s safe.”

Emma nods now, agreeing to Hailey’s terms. Jay has to admit that this is probably the closes to a compromise they’re going to get to, so when Hailey glances toward Jay, he nods his approval.

After finishing breakfast, the three of them walk down to Jay’s truck. Hailey and Jay keep some mindless conversation throughout of the drive as Emma stays mostly silent in the backseat. About halfway there, Jay can’t keep his curiosity at bay, “Emma, if you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been in foster care?”

“Since I was 10.” She responds.

Jay drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He knows the reason he asked that specific question was to put some of his own thoughts at ease. Maddy was adopted at five. Emma didn’t enter foster care until she was ten. Jay has to keep reminding himself to keep them separate, no matter how much Emma makes him think of her, makes him miss her, makes him wonder if she’s okay.

“My- uh, my little brother, he died when I was eight and my parents just kinda didn’t really know how to be parents after that, didn’t want to be parents anymore I guess.” She volunteers this information shocking both Jay and Hailey.

“I’m so sorry,” The apology falls from Hailey’s lips. There isn’t much to say in response to a confession like that one.

Jay glances in the rearview mirror and he can see Emma looking out the window, the expression on her face a practiced neutrality. “It’s okay.”

Hailey searches around the front of the truck until she finds a receipt and a pen. She scribbles something down on the receipt and turns to pass it to Emma. “You have Jay’s number, so now you have mine too. Like I said earlier, if anything happens, you call one of us, okay?”

They’re about ten minutes away from the house when Jay quietly asks Hailey, “What’s the play?”

She studies him for a moment before finally saying, “This isn’t an undercover op, Jay, we tell the truth.”

“The truth that I know they locked her out in the cold and I - a cop - didn’t call the police or DCFS, and didn’t even try to help her get back inside? Instead I just drove her forty minutes into the city to your apartment where she spent the night?”

“O-kay, so we don’t tell the truth.”

“Please don’t tell them you’re police!” Emma practically shouts from the backseat when she realizes what they’re talking about.

Hailey glances back at Emma, no doubt wondering if there’s more to the story than what she’s telling, but she doesn’t ask. Instead, she says, “Fine, we live around here. We saw her walking, she said she accidentally got locked out. We picked her up and took her home for the night. Now we’re bringing her back and are nosy and just want to make sure everything’s okay. We’re not cops.” Hailey glances from Jay to Emma to make sure everyone is on board.

“Thank you,” Emma exhales, relieved.

At this point, Jay would go along with just about anything if it meant making things easier for Emma.

The house is nice, white picket fence suburban neighborhood nice. Jay didn’t notice the night before because he was too busy worrying about Emma, but the house seems well taken care of, and he wants to assume that means the kids are too.

A man opens the front door after Hailey knocks twice, “Emma! You’re back. We were so worried! We didn’t know where you ran off to!”

Jay quickly masks the surprise at that statement. Of course he’s going to pretend she “ran off,” not that he’s the one who locked her out.

Hailey speaks first, “Hi I’m Kelly, this is my boyfriend Ryan.” She rests her hand on Jay’s shoulder, “We just wanted to make sure Emma got home safe.”

“Thanks, you know teenagers, they just run off sometimes. Thanks for bringing her back.” He ushers Emma inside, and she goes with only a glance back at the fake couple.

From Jay’s viewpoint on the porch, the house seems nice enough on the inside too. It’s neat, not too much clutter, no holes in walls or broken windows or anything like that as far as he can tell. But Jay knows that the information he can gather from what little he sees isn’t enough to make any sort of conclusive decision. He only feels slightly better about bringing her back.

“Of course. We were just driving home last night and we found her walking. It was almost freezing out! I’m just glad we’re the ones who found her and no one else. Sorry we didn’t bring her back right away, she said everyone was sleeping and we didn’t want to wake the whole neighborhood trying to get her back inside.” Hailey rambles, and Jay just nods in agreement with this made up story.

“Yeah, thanks,” The man says, keeping it short, and Jay can tell he’s about to close the door on them.

“Does she run off often?” Jay blurts, and the man seems caught off-guard. Jay knows it's an intrusive question, but they are under the story that they found her walking in the street so he guesses he’s allowed to at least ask one question. When the man doesn’t answer right away, Jay continues making up what he’s about to say as he goes, “My sister would run off when she was her age and my parents finally just left a key in a lockbox outside. Y’know cuz its so cold in the winter. Even though they were pissed she wouldn’t tell them where she was going, they didn’t want her to freeze to death just because she couldn’t get in the house. Maybe a lockbox for a key would help.” He says with a shrug and a look that says, just saying.

The man nods and closes the door without another word. Jay lets out an audible sigh as both he and Hailey turn around to head back down the sidewalk.

Once in the truck, Jay blasts the heat and pulls away from the curb with one last glance back at the house, white picket fence and all. “What do you think?” He questions.

“I think he was probably relieved she got back before his wife. He definitely shouldn’t have kicked her out, but he doesn’t seem like a monster.”

“You can’t really tell anything from a ten second conversation.” He pauses, “Do you think we did the right thing?”

“I don’t know.” Hailey responds. “But she has our numbers, she promised to call if she needs help.”

Jay just nods. He knows Hailey is right. They can’t do anything more for her now.

Chapter 4 (posted Monday 3/7/22)

**I will be posting on Mondays instead of Fridays from now on!

I’m very excited about the chapter that comes after this one and where the story is headed. I feel like these first few were a little slow, but things really pick up next week!

As always, feedback is appreciated!

#Upstead #Jay Halstead #Hailey Upton #Jay Halstead fanfic #jay halstead fanfiction #hailey upton fanfic #hailey upton fanfiction #jay halstead x hailey upton #Unsteady

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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 3 years

Text

Feeling like a family

Summary: Y/n visits Harry during his lunch break, letting him in on the relationship both her and Milo have with Xavier. Then they go to the zoo and have a little family day :)

warning/ disclaimers: swearing, family issues.

Things have been going amazing with Harry and Y/n. Ever since their date a couple weeks ago they have been seeing each other more and more. Harry has been coming into her bookshop while she’s working when he can. Just to surprise her and make her day a little better, sometimes he brings her lunch on the weekends and she visits him when he is spending hours after school hours grading art work and setting projects up for his students.

It’s been new and exciting, and extremely fun. Not to mention the kissing has definitely been a plus. They went to have coffee with each other a couple days after their date, spending a good portion of the morning together. They have basically been inseparable since, Harry even invited Y/n and Milo over for dinner so they could all get to know each other better. Loralie was just excited to have guests that weren't family, and also to see a friend from school outside of school. She had a great time with Milo, they played together while Harry and Y/n cleaned up dinner together and snuck kisses in the kitchen.

It's another Wednesday. Harry had Loralie and Milo's class now and he is letting them finger paint. It’s mainly been a calm class, he didn’t have to deal with much usually and if a kid did have a melt down the teacher and/or teachers assistant would deal with it instead of making Harry deal with it. “Looks great, Lora,” Harry says, kissing the top of Loralies head before scooting past her and walking over to his messy desk. He has papers, projects, markers, paints, all over his desk, even with all the time he spends after school he feels like he may never get it organized.

“My mummy likes your daddy.” He hears, looking up to see Milo and Loralie talking. His cheeks turn crimson when he hears it, did they really give it away that easy? Their children now caught onto the fact that the two were dating? That was just embarrassing. “My daddy likes your mummy.” But that was more embarrassing.

Harry ignores it (and the burning in his cheeks) and just hopes that the teacher will hush the class. He busies himself with cleaning his desk, trying to shove the papers into the drawers and file folders that they belong to but his mind is still distracted. He’s gonna have to tell Y/n that their kids know. The bell rings and he looks up from his desk. “Okay, you can leave your paintings where they are. I'll put them on the drying rack and you’ll get them tomorrow!” Harry sings, moving over to Loralie to kiss her cheeks and say a goodbye until he sees her at lunch time. “Bye daddy” she says, waving to him after kissing his cheek and joining her class.

Harry laughs, letting out a sigh and putting the messy finger paintings on one of his many drying racks. It’s his lunch time now. He has to supervise lunch so he gets his break before everyone else.

He wanders around his class room, doing random things and cleaning up his messes that he’s made from the two days of the week before him. He didn’t have plans for lunch, he would probably just have an extra big dinner. He’s happy to find Y/n cured his rumbling tummy when he sees her walking through his classroom. He smiles, chuckling at her big dramatic smile that was obvious teasing. “Hi, darling.” He says, leaning over his desk to press a kiss to her lips.

She sits on the art table in front of his desk, setting two to-go boxes down. “Hi,” she says back, handing him one of the to-go boxes. “No sitting on the tables.” Harry teases while he reaches out to take the white Styrofoam box in his hands, quickly thanking her. “Suck it up.” She shrugs, her feet setting in the chair that was once tucked under the art table. “I just got you a sub and fries.” She says, plucking a chip from her box and taking a bite out of it.

“Why Are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” He smiles, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze. She shrugs, tapping her shoes down on the chair while she pulls her food into her lap. “I forgot to put Milo's' lunch box in his backpack so I had to drop it off.” She says, making Harry smile. So he thought she would have lunch with him? She’s adorable. “So how’s your week been, babe?” Harry sings, sitting back in his big office hair and relaxing into it while he eats.

“Fine. Milo's dad visited.” What?! Since when did he come around? And since when was he “Milo's dad” and not “Xavier”? Harry knits his brows, gulping down his food before he responds, a little nervous. Harry and Milo are best buds, they have grown closer and he’s tried to pay him more attention when he sees him in class as well, he doesn’t want their friendship to be ruined now, even though what he is thinking is selfish. Milo deserves a good daddy.

“Since when does he come around?” He asks, Y/n rolling her eyes at his tone. “He’s a photographer so he’s always traveling the world. I mean he pays child support, he’s not a shit dad. I just have my own issues with him.” She says, her tone heavy with annoyance. Harry was under the impression that he was a horrible dad and didn’t even try to care for Milo, but now he hears he pays child support and visits?

“I just thought he didn’t care.”

“Well… he’s trying. Like I said he’s traveling the world so he can’t always see him but he pays child support and he’s trying to come around more. He did come over and take some cute photos of Milo though.” Y/n smiles, remembering how her baby posed so well for the camera. He was shy at first but then they found a stray kitty out on a walk and he was more than willing to pose with it.

Harry nods, taking a bite out of his sub. He finishes his bite and wipes his mouth with the brown paper napkins, “Is he gonna take Milo for the night or something like that?” Harry questions. Y/n is happy that Xavier is trying to see him more but she doesn’t think she would be able to be away for a night, especially when he doesn’t see Milo that much anyways. “I don’t think I would be comfortable enough to let Milo stay with him, for now at least. But he’s flying off and leaving Friday so I don’t have to worry.” Y/n confesses, taking a bite of her sub while she waits for Harry’s response.

“Yeah, I understand that.”

They eat together before Y/n deems it time for her to go. Giving him a hug and a kiss goodbye before she heads out and opens the book shop back up, letting Harry finish out his day.

*********************************************

Harry and Y/n had made plans to take their little ones to the zoo. Y/n told Harry that Milo had been going on and on about lions so it was the perfect time for them to go. Harry has packed up Loralies stroller, putting snacks, his wallet, and her diaper bag in the bottom carrier. Luckily (but also unluckily) Milo is at the age where he does not want to be in a stroller, every time Y/n tries to put him in it while they are out he complains and tries to get out of it the whole time.

Harry had picked them up, driving about an hour to the zoo. Milo and Loralie babbled to each other the whole ride which made their parents happy- meanwhile they were just humming to the radio and making small talk the whole ride.

“Are you ready to see the lions?” Y/n coos to Milo, pulling him out of his car seat and setting him on the ground, holding his hand so he doesn’t run off in the car park. Harry pulls Loralie out, pulling out her stroller from the back, preparing to put her in it. “No! I walk today.” Loralie says with a bit of aggression in her voice. Harry hands with his hand up defensively, “okay, but you're gonna want it after walking in the heat for hours.” Harry takes her stroller despite her not wanting to be in it, she takes Harry's hand instead, walking next to Milo.

Their first stop is the stingrays, getting the food from the people who work there then getting down in front of the large pond to pet their slimy skin. Milo and Loralie giggle the whole time, pulling their hands away as soon as they feel like slimy stingray and making dramatic gross faces that make their parents laugh. The kids definitely had fun feeding them and petting them but Harry and Y/n instantly shipped them off to the bathroom so they could wash their hands.

Next is the walk through aquarium, “come on, it's this way.” Y/n says, cooing down at Milo and fast walking toward the cave shaped aquarium. When they walk inside it's lit up blue. They look all around them and they see lots of fish, big whales, all different things. “Woah!” Loralie exclaims, making Harry laugh, kissing her cheeks. All of a sudden Milo breaks out in loud giggles, pulling at the length of her mom jeans. “Mama, Look!” Milo giggles, pointing to a fish sticking to the aquarium glass, looking like it's making a silly face at everyone. Y/n laughs, squatting down and wrapping her arm around Milo, resting a hand on his belly. “Let's go see them” Y/n says, pulling him up on her hip and kissing over his cheeks. She takes him over to the silly fish while Harry lets Loralie look around, staring above her at the large fish swimming by until she stumbles back. Harry catches her, standing her back up and taking her over where Milo and Y/n are, showing her the fish that Milo was trying to touch through the glass.

“He's so cute.” Harry compliments, laughing at how Milo's is so obsessed with the silly looking fish. Y/n turns to look at Harry, thanking him cockily- taking all the credits for his adorableness. Harry bumps his nose with hers in a butterfly kiss while their kids are looking straight ahead. He gives her a peck while the kids are still distracted then he turns back to the fish. “Okay, it's time to go look at the animals!” Harry cheer, pulling Loralie off of the ledge she was standing on.

They walk through the entrance of all the animals, seeing some monkeys. Loralie and Milo start to imitate the monkeys, giggling at each other and the animals. They move onto koalas, waving at the cuddly animals before they get to see the lions- this is what Milo has been waiting for. “ROAR!” Milo yells, trying to climb on the wooden fence between the people and lions. Y/n giggles at him, pulling him off the fence and on her hip. “You’re a baby lion, aren’t you?” Y/n coos, kissing his forehead. Milo nods before she pulls him in her hands, extending him out. “Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba!” She sings, making the boy giggle, roaring again before she pulls him back in, kissing all over his face, making him squeal and push away.

Meanwhile Loralie wants to pet the real baby lions. She’s got a frustrated face on since Harry didn’t let her climb over the fencing and pet the furry lions. Harry can’t help but laugh at her. They walk a bit more, walking for a while until they go to their next exhibit.

It’s all calm until Milo starts screaming. He sees a bird wandering free, it was a large blue bird with huge feathers framing its head. Y/n knew that the peacock was harmless, they wouldn't let it wander free if it was, but Milo was gonna be scared of it regardless. “No, no!” He yells, backing away from the bird, trying to scold it for just walking around. Y/n laughs while Milo grips onto her leg, wagging his finger at the bird and yelling at it for scaring him. “It’s not gonna get you, bubba.” She laughs, pulling him into her hip while they get to the penguin house.

They walk into the cold penguin house, their noses instantly crinkling from the smell. “Brrr” Loralie says, running her arms up and does while her teeth chatter. Harry laughs, tossing her little jacket over her shoulder to warm her up. “Look at the baby penguin.” Harry coos to Loralie, holding her up to the glass so she can wave at the little puffins. “Tiny!” She squeals, waving at the baby penguins.

“Yeah,” Harry laughs at her. “They are tiny, Lora.” He agrees with her, giving the back of her head a kiss before settling her back down on the ground, letting her wander off a few feet away to look around at the penguins a bit more before they leave and look at the polar bears.

After the polar bears, they head to the gift shop, Loralie gets a purple bucket hat with a blue monkey on it and a stuffed penguin she named “tiny”. Milo got a shirt of the name of the zoo and a matching stuffed penguin that he couldn’t choose a name for just yet.

They head back to the car, Loralie’s legs are tired on the walk but she refuses to go in her stroller, instead Harry holds her while they take the long walk back, one arm holding Loralie up to his hip and the other latched with Y/n’s hand while her other hand holds Milo's. Once they get to the car Loralie and Milo get buckled up in their car seats, sure to fall asleep soon.

Harry and Y/n get into the front seats, their hands instantly finding the others. “I had a nice day with you.” Harry smiles, his face only inches from hers. Y/n blushes, giving his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I had a lot of fun.” She says, focusing on Harry’s thumb rubbing at the back of her hand. They hear little whispers and giggles, turning their heads back to their little ones. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” They whisper- chant. Their parents' cheeks instantly burn, looking back to each other with big cheesy smiles on their faces.

“Well?” Harry shrugs, leaning in and pressing his lips to her. She giggles on his lips, both of the kids in the back yelling. “Ew!” Loralie says. “Gross!” Milo agrees.

The parents laugh, pressing one last peck to each other's lips before Harry starts up the car. They had a good day together. Harry got closer to Milo and Y/n got closer to Loralie. It kinda feels like they are becoming a little family.

Hii!! if you liked this please reblog and tell me what you thought of it!! please let me know if you would like to be on my tag list!! and please make sure you have read the first two parts :)

tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh

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libraford · 3 years

Text

I owe you all a story about kittens. But its about... a little more than kittens. It's a long one.

I want to tell you all about the kittens, which took place in 2019. But in order to do so, I have to take you back even further, to March of 2018, and concludes in 2021. Because it's about kittens, but it's also about business and all the things that can go wrong.

In March 2018, tragedy struck. The owner of the flower shop died unexpectedly, leaving the business to four capable managers. One of those managers was the man that had hired me, leaving a power vacuum at our location. Grandpa was not the first choice to take the lead, but she stepped up and she became manager. In my opinion, there was no better person for the role: she had only ever worked in the flower industry (assuming we're not counting the one week in 1976 when she worked at a pizza parlor,) and as such she knew the business inside and out.

Prior to this, she had taught all of the designers and practically ran the place when the boss was out, so it was the next logical step. And it was good.

Of course, we had our ups and downs. What I did not realize when I joined the flower shop is that the flower industry is volatile- there are so many variables that went into the creation of floral pieces and if there is one misstep you can be set back anywhere from a day to several thousand dollars. There are late deliveries, there are frightening brides, there are missing piñatas… van fires, flower snobs, color corrections, failed psychics, friends, enemies…

You can set the bar so very low and yet…

The rise and fall of drama at this particular flower shop could be dictated into hours and minutes because sometimes you need to hire people just to fill that space. Grandpa was on record by saying 'if they can walk, talk, and spell their name, hire them.' Even so, we were critically understaffed most of the time because if you hire anyone you're going to get a lot of quitters.

It's a tough cycle to break, and our power was limited.

And we had bigger fish to fry: we had an average of thirty funerals, two weddings, and well over six hundred deliveries per week. Business was booming and we just had to keep up- if you make it one week after the next it doesn't feel so bad.

By March of the following year, the four owners had whittled down to two: my former boss and the former webmaster. We had a district manager now, some kind of accounts position… things like that. It was kind of astonishing that before this, all the work had been done by a single man. But the secrets to his success had died with him.

Things were looking good, actually: the flower business was full of life! We were doing all kinds of special events, starting contracts with businesses and getting our name out there. Drama still plagued us, but as far as I'm aware, that's par for the course for flower shops.

Then, in May 2019, tragedy struck. A tornado ripped straight down the street of our headquarters, demolishing the greenhouse and the historical building that it all started in. No one was injured, but the damages were devastating. Despite all this, we kept working.

We worked hard. And hard. And hard.

And though the new warehouse wasn't slated to be finished until 2021, we reached an equilibrium where things were okay.

But before I get to that, I made a promise to you.

It was a hot day in August and I was walking into my closing shift at 10am. After two years of working with roughly the same people, you got to learning how to tell when something was happening. I walked in to everyone staring at me and acting 'natural.' It never looks natural.

In the back of the store, there was a box that Cherry was standing very purposely in front of.

"What's in the-"

"Sh!" Grandpa spied through the window in the cooler door as someone swung out with a purchase. "Did you find something you like," she asked the customer, trotting over to help him at the register.

"What's happening," I asked Blue.

"Nothings happening, it just kind of… happened."

"Blue… what does that MEAN?"

"There's a customer here, I can't talk about it."

I am bursting at the seams to know what's going on.

Grandpa fared the customer well and went back to her station behind the computer. "Open the box," she said.

Ominous, but okay. I go over to the box and Cherry steps aside. There's something moving inside the box and I wonder if Pam's daughter had folded herself into a box to ride out a panic attack again. I carefully opened the flaps of the box and accidentally disturbed the sleep of-

Four.

Tiny.

KITTENS!

Oh my god, it was the most adorable thing in the world and the poor things were screaming because they had only known the world for a few weeks and everything was strange and blurry and all they knew to do was cuddle for warmth and scream. The box consisted of two black kittens, one tuxedo kitten, and a white seal-point with terminal eye goop.

They immediately started climbing up my arm.

"Not that I'm not thrilled, but… why?"

"Stray cat left her babies out by my pond and wasn't just gonna leave the little fuckers," Grandpa said. The seal-point made it all the way up my shoulder to scream in my ear and stare at me with one clear blue eye. "That one's name is Pop-eye. He's my favorite."

"Jake doesn't get along with them," I surmised. Jake was Grandpa's Australian Shepherd. He was old, blind, deaf, and losing his sense of smell. And he was ornery.

"First thing he did was sit on Pop-eye. So they're gonna be at the shop during the day until we can get them all homed. Know anyone that needs a kitten?"

So, for awhile, we had shop cats. One of the all black twins had been claimed the very next day, but the rest of them were with us for some time. We got very good at feeding them all every hour on the hour and eventually they settled into accepting that 'mom' was seven different people.

In the meantime, we had to hide the three of them from visiting management.

This was not my first round with cat-related crimes.

The district manager, Puppet, was due to come for a visit any time that week. He was supposed to come once a month for a routine check in, and there were only ten days left in August. Likewise, we had to hide the kittens from the customers on the off chance that one of them was a secret shopper.

Backtracking once more to explain: the company had shelled out money to pay a third party to send secret shoppers to grade us on a rubric and also whatever they thought was appropriate. The grades were cleanliness, customer service, how knowledgeable we were of products, things like that. If we got above 90%, there would be a bonus in our next paycheck.

Sounds great, right?

The spies could decide that anything wasn't up to their standard. One woman went on and on about our 'black wall,' which was the outside of our cooler and I'm sorry but… that's not changing. There was a complaint that the table at the front used to showcase our bridal seemed out of place and odd. There dirt in the flower pots… where dirt goes. Corporate reads those comments.

So keeping the children out of sight of the customers and any visiting management became our priority.

'So just keep them in the break room,' I hear you, the reader, suggest.

If you've never owned cats, it is imperative for you to know that they are mostly comprised of spine, and only the smallest of openings will deter them from squeezing into parts unknown. Cats are semi-solids. Kittens are semi-solids with a sense of adventure and little tiny needles for fingernails.

And you can't just tape the box shut.

So… they got out. Well, two of them got out. The tuxedo awoke to find that her brothers had gone exploring without her and did the sensible thing, which was cry about it.

Mood.

I have named this cat Brood X Cicada. The black one can be named Abyss. I'm great at naming cats.

Lucky for us, they're only a few weeks old and walk kind of like little tin soldiers. It took all of five minutes to pry Pop-eye from a piece of Styrofoam and locate Abyss exploring an old toolbox. However, by the time I'm done cat collecting, Brood X Cicada had toddled off in search of her brothers and I'm out of hands to hold kittens in. I stuffed Abyss into my apron pocket and tried to save X from eating plastic.

It is at this moment that Cherry came in to tell me that Puppet the District Manager was on his way, and saw that I was helplessly juggling kittens. Abyss was climbing out of my pocket, eager to join his siblings in the high and exalted position that was my hands.

"We need these kittens out of here," I said. "Who hasn't been on lunch yet?"

Cherry dodged her head back into the workshop. "Hey Key, you been on lunch?" Pause. "You wanna go now?"

Key came into the back room and I handed her the box of kittens. "Take these, in your car. Go to burger King or something, I don't care. Puppet cannot see these. If anyone asks, you're on a route."

Key held the box and took a moment to appreciate the series of events that lead to her being handed a box of kittens in a 'Take this, don't ask questions' kind of matter.

Puppet was in the front door as Key was out the back and we successfully avoided a serious mistake. His visit was only an hour and she walked back in without anyone the wiser.

We made it through the big challenge, now to continue looking for homes for them. Ms. Crow found a friend of a friend of a friend that was excited to take Abyss from us. After some interrogating my friends, I found someone who knew someone who could take Pop-eye and Brood X Cicada. (They were renamed Hocus and Pocus.)

Grandpa cried for every single one of them that had to go. And I remembered my very first day of working there when she introduced herself as 'The Tinman.' What a liar, the softy.

Our days went on kitten-free, the management none the wiser.

It was December when I got the feeling that I should be taking photos of my work to build a portfolio. Something wasn't right, I felt. I couldn't say what it was that put me on edge, but I could only say that all was not well. I took photos of everything that I was proud of, and I was proud of a lot of things. By February, I had over fifty items that I could show off to a potential studio. And I thought- in March, I should start looking to see if other shops are hiring.

And in March 2020, tragedy struck. Our state went into lockdown on March 13, dictating that all non-essential businesses close and non-essential staff be laid off. There were two days where none of us knew what was happening, if we had jobs or if that job was safe.

They laid off all but three designers and Grandpa but kept most the drivers, changed our hours to 8-5, closed Sundays. Canceled weddings. No walk-ins. The three designers were Blue, Red, and me.

Blue was worried about her children. She resigned.

Red's wife was worried about him and harassed him into quitting.

And then there was one.

There's a series of poems I wrote in my journal about being an essential worker during lockdown. There's adorable little doodles of skeletons around the margins, festooned with flowers. They all go something like this:

We are the Skeleton Crew.

We once were seven but now are two

We don't know what to do

So we just work, work, work.

Many may wonder how a flower shop would be considered an essential business. The answer is funerals. We were allowed to remain open because of our relationship with the funeral industry. And sad to say: the industry was booming.

And I did all of it. I made every spray, every 'get well soon' vase, every 'happy quarantine' bouquet. I called angry brides to see if they could postpone, I dealt with everyone's grief and uncertainty.

All the flowers that arrived at US Customs through Italy were destroyed because we didn't know whether coronavirus was transmitted through physical contact and there's no way to sanitize flowers. Not without killing them.

It was me and Grandpa. That was it. Ten funerals a day, and everything else. Flowers were more important than ever: you couldn't be there, so you sent flowers. And flowers and flowers and flowers…

I couldn't leave now. I was important, I was needed.

The work became overwhelming for both of us and we began hiring back some of our staff. Some came back right away, bored out of their skulls having to spend time at home. Can't relate. Key never responded, Cherry was pregnant and shouldn't be out of the house.

Dandy came back, Kali came back, Astra came back. Eventually, Blue. After a month of just me and Grandpa, there was almost a full crew and it was enough for us to get through an average week. It took us a month on our bare knuckles but we finally weren't shouldering the responsibility of seven people.

But we still didn't know jack shit about the future there.

In May, the 'economy opened up,' which is a strategic way of saying that people got tired of never leaving the house and stores were pressured to open back up again before a vaccine was released under threat of… you know what? This isn't a story about how America responded to the coronavirus poorly and you can probably find a better thinkpiece about it written by someone with facts and feelings if you want to squeeze yourself behind a pay wall.

This is about workers rights and kittens, two things that are far more important than the economy.

We got 'Hero Pay,' which was two dollars extra per hour and damn did I grasp onto that with the tendons in my wrists. I had never been paid $12 an hour for anything in my life. They started talking about permanent raises, and benefits, 401K, pregnancy leave… and I started thinking… maybe I could stay. Maybe I can stay here for awhile and it won't be so bad now that I'm getting paid actual human wages. Maybe it will be okay.

Life returned to an uneasy normal while we navigated mask laws, sanitation regulations, safety screens, and daily temperature checks. There are stories to tell about some less than great customers we'd had as people realized that they weren't coping with the pandemic as well as they thought, but they deserve their own entries.

We had a revolving door of open positions. If it wasn't a designer it was a driver or both. People weren't ready to come back to work yet but we still had a business to run. People asked if they could perform this job remotely. I'm not sure how one does flowers from home.

It was August when we started feeling the roots of our problems seep into the foundation.

Grandpa's pride and joy was her funerals. She had spent thirteen years building a relationship with the funeral homes in the area to make sure they trust us and our work. If anything was wrong, even a hair out of place, they knew they could call us and have it fixed before the visitation.

"We want unity across the board on our products," Puppet said. "If you're doing the sprays one way and others don't look the same, it doesn't look very good for Oldman Funeral Home, which has locations in all our cities, does it?" He swept his bangs out of his eyes, which was strange tell but we weren't sure for what.

"Okay," Grandpa said. "Schedule a time for me to go down and I'll teach them the way we do them."

"Okay, then."

She went down, prepared to show the crew in the warehouse what 40 years in the business was capable of, only to be met with a strange kind of resistance.

Their head designer greeted her and immediately started instructing her on how he makes sprays. Grandpa, confused, blinked at him with no words. When he was finished, she picked up her clippers and began making her own.

"That's not how we do it," he said. She was met with criticism after criticism. "That's not enough flowers, you're putting them in wrong, you're still making it one-sided. Why did you put the bow there, this looks nothing like our products."

She stood back after his barrage of blows to the ego. "I guess I'm a little confused."

"I'll say."

"Am I teaching you or are you teaching me?"

"I'm teaching you," he said. "Since they're going to all be made here from now on, they want me to show you how we make them in case of emergency."

She let that simmer. "That's not what I was told."

"You didn't think you were supposed to show me how you do it, did you? That doesn't make any sense. Why would we want to look like yours?"

"Oh, I dunno�� maybe because we've kept up 30 accounts for 13 years and your location just lost your very last one because you can't make their delivery times and they're across the damn street."

This was how we learned that corporate was planning on taking our funerals from us.

Funerals were something I was immensely proud of. My ability to turn out a thousand dollar funeral order with limited stock was a subject of envy. I could take a phone order, make the flowers, and the deliver it all by myself within an hour. I was good. We were all good. And we trained anyone that stayed longer than two months how to do this because we wanted every person to be able to fix any problem.

And they wanted to take that away from us.

And they did. Because who was going to stop them?

'But what does that matter to you,' I hear you, the reader, ask. 'Surely this meant less work for you!'

Ah, but for the sprays to get to us, they had to come on a truck. Making them in-house meant that we knew we had them. We had to put our trust in corporate to deliver the goods to us by 7 am or we would have to make them day of.

There were days when the truck didn't come, or where only half the pieces were delivered, or a spray got left in the workshop an hour away. At least once a week, often more.

But you know… we adapted. You just schedule more openers to make sure no one is doing it alone and hope to God that you have all the flowers you need to make it. Which you could never anticipate how many flowers you would actually need because them taking our funerals was supposed to reduce the amount of stock flowers we got as well.

Mornings were nightmares, but we adapted.

Another visit, Puppet told Grandpa that she should get all weekends off. All the other managers do. He suggested that I learn to run routes so she can have weekends, and I said okay. I'll learn it.

I got real acquainted with the map of Ohio, and I hated it. I was a weekend manager with no real managerial power. If someone needed a refund, I had to write a note for Grandpa to email the accounts manager because she wouldn't take requests from anyone that wasn't a manager. Everything just waited until Monday. What was the point of me? I couldn't design while managing and I couldn't fix what was broken, so why even have a weekend manager? Let the animals loose in the zoo and it probably would have been a better fit.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Throughout all this, spreadsheets. Spreadsheets, spreadsheets, spreadsheets. Completely pointless spreadsheets that we were bound to fill out all day every day. They had simple purposes: inventory. You filled one out to take count of the specials so you knew how many there were. Then you had to count again to put them in the system so that they knew how much we had. Then you had to go back and count them again and put that number in the computer so they knew how much to make and send tomorrow.

I spent an hour each day counting and recounting the flowers in the far-off and futile hope that the counts would remain accurate to the end of the day (which they did not because the call center consistently used the wrong codes) and that the stock would be replenished properly in the morning (it was not.)

An hour was lost each day to this and it accomplished nothing, yet they always yelled at Grandpa if the counts were off or it was late. Why stress a system that does jack shit?

And every time there was a new feature or there was a new… thing, oh look! Another goddamned redundant spreadsheet that served no purpose.

But we adapted. We created a rhythm.

Show up early at 6:30 to make sure everything got in, make everything that didn't, get the drivers routed, pull routes for the third party deliveries, process same-day orders, data entry for the funeral consolidated. Then at 7, when the phones start ringing…

Okay, so before I forget:

Instead of installing a new phone line and hiring a few more call center people like a normal company would, our headquarters decided it would save us money if call overflow rerouted to the next available phone line, regardless of which location the phone was at. So we would get calls for the Kentucky store asking questions about what that store has and for the sake of preserving confidence in our brand we were supposed to pretend that we were the Kentucky store. We're just supposed to know or assume to know what each store had in stock because there's no way that could ever backfire.

It was… another thing to yell at us for. And boy did they, because they were listening in on our calls. Not to like… coach us on how to do better, but to tell us we were wrong. Sometimes they would call one of us on the other line to tell someone currently on the main one that they said something wrong. They also would straight up lie and scold us for calls we didn't take. The phones system, was simply a mess.

...so when the phones started up at 7am, and one person is designing, one person is taking unending phone orders, Grandpa is doing damage control. By 8, we have most of last nights orders figured out and it's time to start on same day orders and tomorrow's orders. It's too early to do inventory now because they'll yell at us for doing it too early.

By 9 we have our second wave of same day orders and next day orders, the rest of the world realizes we're open and starts walking in. That requires the attention of an entire person. We're at this point also taking out trash, breaking down boxes, disinfecting, sweeping the cooler.

Typically, there were only two openers on any given day, which meant most of this was all being handled by Blue or me.

By 10 we've caught up, we can do the inventory now without getting yelled at by the four heads at corporate. We're on route #3 by now and someone probably had to go to the same place twice because the orders came in late.

At 11, a crisis has probably happened. Something dropped, something wilted, something wasn't what they imagined. Someone has to go fix it, and that someone was usually me because I knew my way around town better than the other transplants.

This typically returned me to the shop around 1pm, which meant it was time for lunch, bringing me to 2. 3 o'clock was the cutoff for any next day orders to be sent to corporate, which meant that if there were any funeral orders taken for the morning, they would have to be made in-house. This included sprays, which takes half an hour to an hour depending on how complicated it was and if we had the materials and how much else we needed to make for the next day. Or how busy we were.

There was always something called in at the last minute, taking us to 4 and then 5 o'clock, when the openers went home and the same-day orders were cut off.

But see, that was when we stopped taking orders, not when we stopped processing orders. So if an order was placed for the same day at 4:59, it may not go through until 5:30. And by 5:30, chances are you've sent your drivers home for the day. Which means calling the customer to apologize and explain why something can't be sent out today, and no one wants to hear that they fucked up by sending it out late.

So, on more than one occasion, I had to personally deliver flowers on my way home from work in my personal car, thirty minutes out of my way because if we miss a delivery by God will we hear about it. And it was always some damn $25 arrangement with 'God Loves You' written on the tag, hardly worth the gas to Johnstown.

The irony of it being delivered by the witch was lost on no one.

If that didn't happen and the screen was clear, the night was easy and all we had to do was clean up and watch the door.

Unless a last minute order for the next day came in, which was about half the time. All of this for $11 an hour. (Once they got rid of the Hero Pay, it went back down to $11.)

That was an average, unexciting day for us. You got used to those kinds of stresses, but every day I came home and I was so tired and sore that I couldn't move. I started walking with a cane, had a low-grade fever most days, and my hands looked like I'd taken to them with a cheese grater.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Then it was December. The owners had always been generous with Christmas bonuses, handing everyone an envelope of cash. Mine was $500. This was the largest amount of cash that anyone had ever handed me (feel bad for me later.)

And then it was Grandpa's turn, but there were no envelopes left. It had to be a mistake, she thought. She didn't get paid very much for all the work she put into the shop, so she was counting on that bonus to buy presents for her grandchildren. It… it… had to be a mistake, right?

"I didn't get a bonus," she said. "I thought the accountability didn't take effect until January," she said to Puppet.

Before he opens his mouth again, I have to explain yet another thing.

In September, there was a meeting. Now that we were working on benefits and bonus programs and other things to make sure the staff stays, they needed to put in accountability measures for the managers. Effective January 1, managers are reflected by the income of their store, the number of returns, accidents in company vehicles, and high turnover rates.

Pick one of those attributes and decide its bullshit to begin with, and I'm about to show you the entire steer.

"We had to make an example of someone," he said. "So that the other managers know we're serious."

She was being personally punished for a car wreck that happened in 2019 even though she fired the guy that was in it. We had too many returns, he said, but most of them were sent to us from corporate. She was personally held responsible for the high turnover rate during an economic crisis AND a goddamned pandemic… because they needed to make an example out of someone.

And her grandkids didn't get presents this year because of it.

She cried. The last time I saw her cry was when we were saying goodbye to the kittens. It's not the same.

But she got up every day and listened to them scream at her while we counted and counted and recounted the fucking Christmas specials because the numbers weren't right and we couldn't make them right because someone in the call center couldn't figure out the codes and in their eyes it was our fault, too- we had to be stealing the flowers or something.

"It sucks and then its over," she said. It was how she dealt with holidays: "It sucks and then its over."

We were all angry for her. I got asked to go to the headquarters and help them mass produce more fucking specials and I offered the beat them up for her and she told me not to get involved. Head down, do the work, get it done.

One of the call center girls died of a heart attack a few days before I was due to help them mass. We were supposed to go to her funeral, but we all missed it because there was so much work to do.

Wait, let me back up… again. The company gave us all life insurance. The number we were quoted on our life insurance policy was $10,000, which seems like a lot but in the funeral business it's not. Your average funeral will eat up most of that, if not all. It's very expensive to die right now.

At least… we all thought it was $10k. I was certainly told $10k.

Turns out it was $1k, which isn't enough to buy you a box for your remains. The call center crew ended up crowdsourcing the rest- she didn't have much family.

And none of us could go to the funeral because we were working.

I worked two twelve hour shifts in that warehouse making the same goddamn centerpiece over and over again while a Frenchman in a scarf told me I was doing it wrong, while everyone was grieving on a time crunch.

I really should have beaten them up.

But we got through Christmas, for what it was worth. We found Grandpa some sales that she could get gifts from and we all worked together to make sure we were okay through it. I mean, we weren't- it was blind leading the blind. But we tried.

And then it ended. "It sucks and then its over," she'd always say.

And into January we go and we're back into the stupidity of trying to fight with hq about funerals. I'm constantly told that if we needed certain things we should have ordered them.

I… did. I did. I ordered everything we needed every damn day and it still never came because the left hand and the right hand can't even coordinate enough to pull off a high-five. But it can't be their fault. It has to be Grandpa's somehow.

Now during the week of Christmas, Grandpa had to take an extra day off because she got sick. It wasn't Covid, thank goodness. I can imagine it was a stress-related issue, but it's not my business. Due to the holiday, this put her at under 40 hours for the week.

So they paid her hourly.

...which is extremely illegal to do to a salaried employee, especially one that works way more than 40 hours a week with no overtime.

And then they told her that she'd already lost her quarterly bonus because of a fender-bender that happened on my watch, and because she lost 39 employees last quarter.

I write everything down. I keep a journal. I cannot find 39 employees, even going back the entire year… during a pandemic. They have to be making this up. They have to be because there is no way they can hold the dude that was fired for literally sleeping in the men's room against her.

And I was close to just telling them all that… when my grandma died.

I'm not getting into it, really. Because you know… she was 96 years old and… it happens. It's sad, but it happens. But the relevant point to make is that I was given an… inheritance. It wasn't a lot. Grandma wasn't loaded. But it would be enough for me to keep afloat for awhile if I ever needed to.

When I told my girlfriend, she said: 'you could quit your job.'

And I didn't want to think about that because the flower shop needed me. I was important there. I was special. And Valentine’s Day was just around the corner.

But I was thinking about it. I thought about it every day.

A week before Valentines Day, Grandpa was inconsolable. She had to leave work because her dog, Jake, wouldn't stop bleeding. She needed to get him to the vet.

Two hours pass and Blue gets a message asking her to come help her move the dog. Grandpa lives alone and she's not very strong.

Blue doesn't like dogs. She was bitten by one the first time she ever made a delivery.

And I am known for exceptional physical strength. So I went.

When I arrived, Grandpa was a mess. I had never seen her cry so much, and it wouldn't stop. And I was trying to be strong, but it's hard. Jake was still alive, but bleeding. He was confused and upset, and blind and deaf. He barked, he growled, and he lunged… but always pulled back when his legs buckled from the pain.

I had her grab a blanket and we rolled him onto it, using that to lift him. He thrashed and growled and snapped at me while we walked him towards the door, but he wasn't getting out of the wrap we had him in.

As we're out the door, I noticed a man at the neighboring house. He raised his hand in greeting, but lowered it in confusion.

"Grandpa, is it alright if I get him to come help while you bring the car around?"

The best she could do was nod.

"Yeah, sorry, to bug you but can I ask for a little help here?" He looks at what we're doing and drops his trash can lid to come help. "Yeah, just take that end there and we're gonna ease him into the car when she comes around."

He nodded, took the ends, and we tucked a very confused Jake into the back seat. I thanked the neighbor, Grandpa sped off, and I went back to work feeling extremely odd about it.

That was the first time that I'd ever met the dog: on his way to be put down.

I know it seems weird to tell that story, but there's a reason. Part of it is symbolic. Part of it has to do with kittens. But we're not there just yet.

So now it's February and it is crunch time for Valentine’s Day. We have no earthly idea what this holiday is going to look like because past experiences have us anticipating a large number of walk ins, but state regulations have put a limit of six customers inside the store at any one time. We were never given any… instructions on how to enforce that rule, so we just kind of vaguely set out roles for who has to be the bouncer at the flower shop.

But before all of that, we had to make 275 two-dozen red rose arrangements in bowls. Based on our sales last year and general growth, we were expecting something close to five hundred deliveries on our busiest day. If I wasn't making them, I was counting them. And I was counting, and I was counting, and I was counting… every hour, just like it was at Christmas. We used up every single red rose in the place and came up short.

To which we were scolded: we must have used the roses they sent us for other orders because there was no way the error could have been on their end! Their inventory was impervious to mistakes. Somewhere between the warehouse and our store, twenty-five packs of roses went missing! And why is it only our store that has these problems? Clearly it must be our fault- a store full of thieves and liars and delinquents.

They ended up sending more just because… you know… they care. I guess.

And every hour, they needed a number of something and I counted, and counted and counted…

I think it was February 8 that I started crying every day. When I slept I was stiff as a board because I made so many mistakes throughout the day that the idea of coming to work the next day just to make more mistakes made me lock up entirely. There was no way to relax. There was no winding down from a hard day of work because my body could not move anymore.

I felt like I was made of splintering wood.

I had a dream around this time that I quit my job. I was so happy. I thought about it almost every hour.

So I stayed out of the way at work, picking up cleaning projects because at least there I could be useful and it was dark enough in the cooler that if I started crying no one had to see it.

That cooler was so clean. I wouldn't recommend eating off of it because I used an entire bottle of bleach to clean the floor.

If we're not counting the constant barrage of demands from corporate to count, count, count; Valentine’s Day was worryingly uneventful. Previous holidays were chaotic: filling the requests of the most desperate and clueless men with deep pockets and expensive tastes. Corralling the temporary drivers and make sure no one gets into any crashes or… uh...tries to sell unregulated merchandise from their trunks. Trying to decide what "Malibu Barbie Pink" meant for that one customer who comes in every six months and orders it but has rejected every color pink on the spectrum that our store has ever offered.

On this one… nothing important happened.

We were… slow.

Grandpa started sending people home early because there weren't many orders. We ran out of projects to do.

Sounds great, right?

...heh…

Corporate would like to know why our store is under projected sales by over 200, as if we have any say in how many people buy from us. Like we personally called all our typical customer base and told them not to come to this store. "Yes, hello Mrs. Penderghast? I'm sorry we can't fill your Valentine's Day order this year because we suck balls and don't want your business. Have a nice weekend. Say hi to the grandkids for me."

I don't… fucking KNOW! I don't work in PR! I'd ask the people in that department if they know what happened but… that's the owners. So who really is the fuckup here? Not me, that's for fucking certain! I cleaned the cooler. That's all I did all weekend was clean the Gods damned cooler because there wasn't enough work to go around so I made work for myself.

And then: "Why are the counts off," asked Mt. Rushmore. See, we called them that because between the owners, Puppet, and the head designer we had four white men looking down at us while we did all the work and built their success on the backs of their forefathers. Well… to me it was anyway. To everyone else it was four dudes that looked down on you.

"Why are the counts off?"

Oh, the COUNTS are off? Well, let me just drop everything I'm doing right now and count them for the third time in the past hour because that takes fucking priority.

"There's 95 specials missing from your inventory. Where are they?"

...okay, 95 is a lot. But it was also kind of hard to know how they were 'missing' when we'd sold all of the 275 that we made. How can they be missing if we sold them.

"We need to know where they are."

We don't know where they are. Because we sold all of them. The math didn't add up.

But they hounded us about it like we'd stolen them and resold them on the street corner. Which, to their defense, had happened once (but Sugar stopped doing that when her corner was taken over by the woman who accused Jay of being a demon.) But 95 is a huge number, and these arrangements were a foot wide and two feet tall. Someone would have noticed if a 100x200 foot square opened up in the cooler.

We literally could not know what the fuck they were talking about.

And the truth was extremely stupid: those 95 pieces were redeliveries. When someone has an issue with their order, like it didn't come or it was left out in the snow and got damaged or… someone put the name of their ex on the card instead of their wife… we send a replacement. But depending on who took the phone call, a person might use the wrong code and put it in for 'redeliver' instead- which counts it as another order.

We weren't missing 95 arrangements. We had 95 redeliveries. They hounded us about inventory for two days over a clerical error.

I decided I'd had it. We were going on a full week of crying every time I had a moment alone. They had made us feel like everything that went wrong was our fault: from low turnout to high turnover, missed deliveries and trashed sprays, lost accounts and new grievances…

But did they ever say a Gods damned thing about how hard we worked? How good we were? About how great a team we were under pressure? We once pulled together an entire wedding in fifteen minutes. My ass carried this store through the pandemic. I have done… so much.

So fucking much.

And yet it's our fault.

I had been reasoning with myself that I would stick around for the aftermath when Grandpa was eventually fired: we'd all felt it was coming. But I got that little bit of cash and all my joints were screaming and every time we got negative feedback a part of me died.

The following Tuesday had seen a massive snowstorm. Things that weren't already closed due to the pandemic were closed due to weather.

But we still had to be there. Because someone had to be there to make all the funeral pieces.

Because there wouldn't be a truck the next day, which meant that all of the funeral pieces that we'd sent to the headquarters needed to be made in-house. Which, once again, could have been avoided if we had kept the funeral orders in-house to begin with.

I waited until everyone had cleared out before I said it.

"Grandpa, I have to quit."

I don't think anyone ever looked so disappointed in me in my life.

"Why?"

"The way they treat people here is terrible and I can't see myself doing another Mother's Day for this company. They're so… mean! And for no damn reason! I have cried every day for the past week because I see the way they treat you and I'm… I'm tired."

I thought she was going to cry, but she nodded. "I can't stop you," she said. "I shouldn't stop you. If it's affecting your mental health like this, I'll miss you but its for the best. You know they'll want a written notice."

"And you know I'll tell them the truth," I said.

"...it's not me, is it?"

"If I worked for just you and those fuckers were out of the picture, I would stay. And you can count on me to tell them that."

"Any flower shop you apply to would be lucky to have you."

So I drafted up a resignation letter telling them exactly how I feel: that the way they run this company was asinine and they treated their employees like garbage. They received it on Thursday. Everyone at the shop knew by then. They were upset…

...but they understood.

Puppet did not understand. He emailed Grandpa asking her what she's doing that her people keep leaving.

He didn't see it. He didn't see that he was part of the problem. It always had to be someone else's fault. I explicitly said in my letter whose fault it was and he still didn't take any responsibility.

But suddenly I'm one of their best designers, and he begged me to reconsider, take some time off to think about it. They desperately wanted me to stay and they were willing to bargain, I just needed demands.

No one's ever… begged me before. I don't know if I like that.

This is when it dawned on me that I was next in line. It all made sense now: training me to route, making me do all the extra work, and now they want me to stay?

They were planning on getting rid of Grandpa and promoting me to manager. In a perfect world where Grandpa resigns willingly and I’m promoted on my merits as a designer and the company wasn’t very quickly circling the drain, I would be excited. But I wasn’t. I was frightened. I watched them take a confident, extremely talented woman and turn her into the whipping boy of the flower shop. And if I were in her position, I would have quit. But I don’t have the strength to stand up to the people that are signing my paycheck.

Why… am I at a place where the idea of moving upward makes me more scared than excited?

Flattering, but no. I've seen how you treat your people. My demands are to treat them better.

It was the longest week for me: making lists of pros and cons. I had made a lot of friends there and there's stuff that I will never forget. But the fact that the only people who didn't understand why I was leaving were the people who had the most to lose really hit me in the knees. I could tell them every day for the rest of their lives why they suck and it wouldn't matter because nothing was ever their fault.

And at 7:00 on Friday, I turned in my key.

I didn't have a plan, I didn't have anything lined up. This was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make and I was just kind of… throwing myself at it.

I don't do that. I always have a plan. I look into every possible scenario and I try to make the smart choice. And this time…

I didn't.

It was probably stupid.

But I slept for 12 hours the next night and I could feel my bones settling into their rightful places. I didn't realize how many health problems were caused by standing for 9 hours a day, 11 days a week until I was home all the time to notice them changing. I will always have a limp from trying to pretend I don't have a limp. I'm pretty sure that ulcer is chronic. But my back isn't seizing up and I don't cry every day anymore.

That's something, I think.

About a week after my departure, I got a text from Grandpa that said:

"Hey guess what."

"What," I replied.

The next text was a picture of a week's old seal-point kitten with terminal eye-goo, wrapped in a towel.

"Pop-eye!?"

"I'm keeping this one," she said. The strays had dropped a litter of identical baby kittens by her pond. Two years later, with Jake put down, she could finally have Pop-eye, even if it was version 2.0.

The next text was a few days later. "Puppet fired me."

"What!? Why?"

"Too many accidents, too high turnaround. The new people suck, he says no one wants to work with me."

"Are you okay? How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." She paused and the loading screen did its little dot dance. "I'm playing with my kitten."

#cw #pet death #death #workers rights violations #if you want to know everything #this is everything

413 notes · View notes

euovennia · 3 years

Text

Decisions - C. C. Imagine

summary: in which carlisle faces the wrath of his former lover after abandoning her

pairing: fem!reader x carlisle

word count: 5,314 (can you tell i got carried away?)

request: could you maybe do one for carlisle where the reader and him have a massive argument like proper slamming doors shouting and he asks edward to help him (with the mind reading and that) with making up with the reader? i hope that makes sense hahah😂i’m in LOVE with your writing 🤩

---

“Thank you for dinner tonight, Eugene. It feels like it’s been a while since I’ve been out like this so I appreciate it.” The woman spoke softly, the edges of her eyes crinkling slightly due to the smile that adorned her face. “It only feels like it’s been a while because it has been a while, Y/N.” The man teased as he looked down at the woman beside him. Her cheeks tinted a light pink color and it was at this moment she was thankful for the darkness of the night that enveloped the car the two were sat in. “Right. Look, I really am sorry about all of that. I was just,” She let out a sigh as she looked down at her hands, “I don’t really know actually.” She finished quietly. The man’s lips pressed into a thin line as his grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly. Letting out a small sigh he responded, “You were just heartbroken. It’s normal, especially after something like that.” He muttered, his tone noticeably more annoyed causing her to frown. “Yeah. I guess that’s what happens when you’re thrown to the side like trash.” She muttered, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the pessimistic thoughts that began to infiltrate her mind.

Pulling into her driveway and parking the car, the man rested a hand on her thigh as he looked over at her once more, “You’re not trash, Y/N. You didn’t deserve what he did to you. He made his choice to leave….Now you just have to make your choice to get back out there and take your life back.” She let out a small sigh as she rested one of her hands on top of the one that was on her thigh, “I know, but it’s still hard. I mean, some days I feel like I’m completely fine and that I can take on the world but other days…Other days I can’t help but feel like he dodged a bullet leaving the way he did. Who knows, maybe he saw something wrong with me that I can’t see and decided it was too much for him.” Hearing her dejected tone the man only frowned, “I won’t lie and say I know how you feel because I honestly don’t. What I do know is that you can’t let his choices dictate your life. He made his decision and it’s about time you made yours. I just want what’s best for you, everyone does.” The woman began to chew on her lip as she allowed the weight of the words from her friend to sink into her mind. “I guess that’s fair. Maybe I have been sulking around a bit longer than I should be.” “It’s been five months, Y/N. I think you’ve done more than enough sulking for the year.” She nodded silently before pulling her hand away from his and tugging her purse up to rest on her lap. “I’m pretty tired so I think I’m gonna head to bed now. Thank you again for dragging me out of the house tonight, Gene. I really did enjoy everything. Maybe we can do it again sometime soon,” She suggested, a small burst of confidence bubbling in her chest. Eugene’s face lit up with a smile as he nodded eagerly, “Definitely. Just let me know when you want to go. I’ll be waiting.” She smiled as she leaned over the console to give him a brief hug before pulling away and promptly exiting the car. She closed the door and gave the man a small wave before making her way into her small house. She dropped her belongings at the door and kicked her shoes off before dragging herself to her bedroom and throwing herself onto the bed as she immediately tugged a warm blanket over her body. She laid still for a moment as she stared blankly at the ceiling before rolling over and digging around in her bedside drawer before her hand came into contact with a familiar piece of paper. She hastily pulled it out and sat up as she began to unfold the paper and skim her eyes over the words that were elegantly written onto the paper. My love, I am writing this letter to you with a fearful mind and heavy heart as I am not quite sure how you will react. It is without a doubt that you are the one who has stolen my heart and who I will love and cherish unconditionally for the rest of my existence which only makes writing this even more painful. Even with this burden, I must carry on. It’s come to my, and the family’s attention, that our presence in Forks will only bring nothing but pain and suffering to both you and Bella. It is because of this that we must leave. Believe me when I say there is no other way. This is for your and Bella’s safety. My only regret is that I will not be able to hold you in my arms and gaze into your loving eyes one last time before we leave, but I know if I did I would only stay and I cannot do that to you or my family. I hope to meet with you again, my love. Yours forever, Carlisle “Yours forever.” She spoke, a bitter edge mixed in with her tone. She let out a scoff as she flicked the paper over the side of her bed, not bothering to check where it landed. She fell back onto her mattress as she once again began to stare aimlessly at the ceiling above. If only forever actually meant something.

Three Months Later

“Thank you for taking time out of your day and meeting with me, it truly means a lot,” Y/N spoke, a bright smile on her face as she shook hands with the mother who was holding tightly onto her child beside her. “Absolutely! You already know I’m more than happy to meet up with you at any time. Thank you for reaching out. I’ll make sure everything gets taken care of as soon as possible.” Y/N nodded as she looked down to the child who clung tightly to his mother’s side, “I’ll see you on Monday, kiddo. Have a great evening!” The child gave her a timid smile as he spoke up, “You too Ms. L/N!” The woman’s smile only widened before bidding the pair a goodbye. Hearing her classroom door close, she took a seat in her chair as she leaned forward to get a closer look at the classwork of her fourth-period class. Letting out a small sigh, she grabbed her blue pen and began her daily routine of monotonous grading. After what felt like an eternity, she heard her classroom door swing open causing her to look up from the stack of classwork that seemed to significantly lower in height since starting. “I figured you’d still be here. I got us some Chinese!” Eugene spoke as he held up the bag of takeout like a trophy in his hands. “Thank goodness. I really didn’t want to get home and have to cook. It’s been a long day.” The woman groaned as she pushed the stack of paperwork to the side as Eugene placed the styrofoam container into her hands. She quickly opened up the box and began to eat to her heart's content as she watched Eugene struggle with his chopsticks. “I’m not quite sure why you get those if you haven’t figured you how to use them after nearly two years. I think you should just give up.” She remarked before taking a bite of veggie roll dipped in duck sauce she’d expertly acquired with her own pair of chopsticks. Eugene let out a scoff as he turned to face her, “Well sorry I can’t be perfect at everything I do. Not my fault no one taught me how to use these things.” He muttered with a frown on his face. She let out a hearty laugh, “I’ve offered to teach you numerous times, you just refuse to let me help you out.” “I refuse because I’m a strong, independent man. I don’t need to rely on no woman.” She smirked, “If I didn’t know you were gay, I’d think you have some vendetta against women.” “Vendetta? Against women? Please, a woman could spit on me and I’d apologize for bothering her.” He scoffed. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she stared at him with a brow quirked up, “Good to know. Very good to know.” He rolled his eyes before throwing a packet of soy sauce at her, “Oh be quiet. You know you could never do that to me. You love me too much.” “Sadly. Now, hurry up and finish eating. I wanna get home already.” He shook his head as he closed the takeout container, “I’m actually not all that hungry tonight so we can go now.” The woman only nodded in response as the pair began to clean up and gather their belongings before heading out of the classroom and over to his car. --- Pulling into her driveway, he put the car into park as Eugene turned to look at the woman beside him. “I know we just ate dinner together, but you wanna grab something to eat tomorrow?” She pondered for a moment before nodding with a small smile, “Yeah we can. You know I love being with you.” “Everyone does, they just don’t want to admit it.” She rolled her eyes playfully before reaching over the console and giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Text me the details. I’ll see you later, Gene.” He quickly returned her affection as he nodded, “I will. Have a good evening, Y/N.” She gave him a smile before getting out of the car and closing the door behind her. She gave him a parting wave as she watched him pull out of her driveway and away from her house. With a content sigh, she walked up to her front door and twisted the knob, shock coming over her features as the door swung open with ease. I never leave the door unlocked. Feeling a sense of unease beginning to creep up on her, she tucked her keys between her knuckles as she slowly stepped into her house making sure to rake her eyes over every little detail in her home. With small and quiet movements, she set her bag on the ground as she silently shut the door behind her. She carefully crept into the house as she made sure to keep both her eyes and ears peeled for any suspicious sign of an intruder. Walking into her living room, she continued her slow and cautious movements before her eyes settled on her couch where a hauntingly familiar piece of fabric was strewn across the top. Gulping, she stalked closer to the couch and picked up the dark grey jacket. With shaking hands, she slowly began to unfold the jacket, her heart clenching as the familiar scent invaded her nostrils. Eyes widened and heart pounding, she whipped around to find him standing there in all his glory. “Carlisle.” She gasped out. She stared with a sense of horror and despair as she took in the sight of the man who stood only a few feet away from her. Her eyes raked over his tall, slightly muscularity and lean build that was dressed in a light blue collared button-up that was neatly tucked away beneath a sweater vest that was a shade darker than his button-up. It was paired with a pair of black jeans she had gotten him as a gift along with a pair of dress shoes that she had a feeling were new. She sucked in a sharp breath as she dared to bring her eyes up to his face that radiantly shone against the dim lighting in the living room, his golden eyes locked onto her figure that seemed frozen in place as the pair stared each other down. Neither one of them dared to break the silence as a tense feeling overcame the both of them, more specifically Y/N. Swallowing the last of her pride, she found the courage to speak first. “You’re here.” As if sensing her hesitance, Carlisle slowly nodded before gently speaking out, “Yes. There was a change in our living conditions.” Not quite knowing how to respond, the woman only nodded as she suddenly became all too aware of just how small the living room truly was. Taking in a small breath, Carlisle took a step toward her causing the woman to immediately take a step away from him. This reaction caused him to shrink back into himself as he felt a pang of hurt course through his body. I deserve that. Shaking off the rejection he opened his mouth, “Love-“ “Get out.” His eyes widened at her harsh tone as he took a moment to stare at her face. It didn’t take a genius to know that her expression was one of extreme anger and discomfort, but to know that the person who had once promised unconditional love and care for you aimed that deadly glare at you, it was disheartening, to say the least. “Y/N, I can explain-“ “Now you want to explain yourself? What, you think you can break into my house and expect everything to just be alright? Do you have any idea what you put me through just leaving like that? I spent months trying to convince myself that I still had a life worth living and you expect me to run back into your arms? I don’t think so, Carlisle.” She spits, a certain fire he had never seen burning into him as she glared at him. “I know I hurt you, but it was what the family needed. I’m sorry it came to it, but we had no other choice. I had no other choice.” She let out a scoff as she threw the jacket to the ground before walking up to him with fury in her eyes before stopping directly in front of him, “And you couldn’t tell me that in person? You had to leave a fucking note? Are you kidding me? You knew what I would think and you didn’t want to face that so you took the easy way out by tossing me to the side like trash-“ “You’re not trash-“ His sentence was once again cut short, not by her words this time, but by the sound of her hand smacking against his stone-cold cheek. Startled, Carlisle stumbled a bit as he looked to her with a look of shock and hurt visible on his face, “Did you just-“ “Yes. I slapped you Carlisle and if I’m being honest, I should do a hell of a lot more to you right now with the nerve you have showing your face around here after what you did.” He let out a sigh of annoyance as he took a step back from her, “I did it to protect you. You really think I would intentionally hurt you?” “If that was the case, you would’ve talked to me and not just left a lousy note!” She yelled. “I was protecting you, Y/N! I did what I thought was best at the time and I’m sorry if you can’t see that but I don’t regret what I did for even a second!” He yelled back as he felt himself feeding on her own anger and frustration. “If you don’t regret it then why the hell did you come crawling back here?! You should’ve just left another note on my bed and left me alone, God knows you’re great at doing that!” Carlisle let out a humorless laugh as he bit back, “What? So you can be alone with Eugene? God Y/N, if I knew how easily you could move on from me I would’ve just found some other woman to run off with!” “Don’t you dare try to blame this on me, Cullen. I wasn’t the one who decided to walk away from a perfectly good relationship-“ “Maybe it wasn’t a perfectly good relationship, Y/N! Maybe that’s why I left in the first place! Did you ever take a moment to think about how much of a pain you can be to deal with, especially as a human? How much it took to take care of you? You drive me absolutely insane and leaving you behind was probably one of the best decisions of my entire existence!” He roared out harshly. At his impassioned revelation, Y/N’s face quickly became void of all emotion as she straightened out her posture. He watched helplessly as she clenched and unclenched her jaw, a habit she did when she was trying not to lose control, especially during an argument. Feeling a pit grow in his stomach at the weight of his words, Carlisle’s face fell as he gulped. “Y/N, you know I didn’t mean-“ “I’m going to my room.” Carlisle looked up at her as his eyes slightly widened at her choice of words, “What?” “I said I’m going to my room and I won’t bother coming out until morning. If I come out and you’re still here, I won’t hesitate to call the cops and tell them about your breaking and entering stunt,” She spoke lifelessly. “Please don’t-“ “Goodnight Carlisle,” She spoke quietly before stalking off toward her bedroom. Carlisle watched her figure disappear behind the walls of her house, a sharp flinch interrupting his still frame as the walls shook from the force of her slamming her door. In all his time of knowing her, he knew she was a woman of her word and so with a heavy heart and a guilty conscience, he picked up his jacket before leaving her residence as he tried to get the sound of her heartbroken cries emitting from her room out of his head.

Next morning

Slowly stirring awake, Y/N reluctantly opened her eyes. Immediately being blinded by the light shining in from the window she regretted her decision as she screwed her eyes shut, rubbing away at her eyes with her hands as she tried to dull the stinging sensation. Once soothed, she opened her eyes once more. Furrowing her brows together, she sat up as she took a moment to sniff the air. Lips pressed into a thin line and annoyance already coursing through her veins, she shot up from her bed as she swung her door open and stormed over to the kitchen. “I told you I was going to call the cops if-Oh.“ Her sentence quickly faltered as she caught sight of Edward watching over the movements of Bella as she moved around the kitchen with a grace that Y/N could never quite master due to the fact that she was more than happy to live off of take-out than take the time out of her day to make a homemade meal for herself. “What are you doing here?” She got out, her voice suddenly feeling very small and hoarse. Edward turned to her, crinkling his nose slightly at the overwhelmingly large amount of thoughts that flooded through her head. Shoving away his own distaste for her mind at the moment, he spoke. “Carlisle said you’d call the cops if you saw him in here when you got up. You never said anything about seeing me or Bella,” At the mention of her name, Bella perked up as she turned to face the older woman with a shy smile and a small wave before turning back to the pancakes she was in the middle of making. Y/N let out a deep sigh as she rolled her eyes, “Damn him and his loopholes.” Edward gave a small smile toward the woman. While he had strong feelings about human involvement in the family’s rather odd lifestyle, it was obvious to anyone that he had grown a soft spot for the woman who had effortlessly stolen the heart of his adoptive father. While he looked to Carlisle as a father figure, it was Y/N who he saw as a mother figure. “Come on, Bella already fixed you a plate. Why don’t we sit down and talk for a bit?” By the time the words had left his mouth, he was already dragging her to the couch in the living room shoving the plate of food into her hands as he sat on the couch opposite to her. “Yes, make yourself at home.” She muttered sarcastically before stabbing her fork into a sausage and shoving it into her mouth. “Y/N-“ He started. “Why are you here, Edward?” She asked once she had finished chewing. "Alive had a vision of what happened. I just wanted to check in on you." She let out a bitter laugh as she looked up at him, "Well I'm doing just fine, Edward. Feel free to leave. Bella can stay though, these pancakes are heavenly," The woman remarked as she stabbed a fluffy pancake with her fork. "You're still in your clothes from last night and your eyes are red and puffy. Believe me when I say you look horrible." He observed. "Well your eye bags are becoming more prominent, but you don't see me rubbing that in your face now do you?" She remarked, patience slowly beginning to wear thin. "Well, I can't exactly sleep it off. I'm literally dead." "Excuses, excuses." She waved off. Edward let out a small sigh of frustration as she continued to brush off his efforts. It was no surprise she was upset with Carlisle especially after some of the things he had said, but the disregard she had for her own feelings was annoyingly frustrating, especially when he could see right through her act just by digging into her thought. While it could very well be seen as an invasion of privacy, Edward felt it was critical at this moment. "You can't just ignore this conversation, Y/N. You've gotta talk about it at one point or another. I know you're hurting." "You don't know anything, Edward. You can't just waltz in here and think you know how I feel." "I can make a pretty good assumption based on your thoughts." She rolled her eyes as she pushed the plate of food away from her, "What is it with you guys and taking the easy way out? First, you leave Forks because of an accident. Then Carlisle leaves me with a note for his goodbye and if that wasn't enough, you have the nerve to sit here and read my thoughts instead of talking to me like a normal person would. It's getting pathetic honestly." She finished off with a huff. Edward's lips turned into a frown as he leaned back into the couch, "Then tell me how you feel." Y/N let out a deep sigh as she stared down at her hands, "I'm just hurt. When you guys came into my life, I wasn't expecting to get so attached, and when I did...God, it felt like the best thing in the world like I was flying. Carlisle knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. And then you just leave? It's one thing to leave me here by myself, but the fact no one even said anything to me? I would've preferred being left alone in the woods like a sack of meat because at least then I'd know you cared enough to see me one last time, but I didn't get that and it hurt." Edward silently watched her for a moment before speaking, "Your thoughts are all jumbled together...What are you thinking about?" She let out a sigh as she began to play with her fingers, "When you guys left, I felt useless. I felt like dead weight and it showed. I could barely bring myself out of bed to go to work and the days I manage to bring myself to work, everyone just wanted me to go home because they were so worried. It was like the only thing I wanted to do was sleep and eat my days away, but I couldn't even do that because just the thought of eating made me want to puke. As for sleeping, I couldn't do that without waking up and driving over to your house like it was some bad dream. Hell, it took five months for me to even get out of the house and get some semblance of normality back into my life, then it took another three months for me to finally feel normal again. And just like that, you guys come back without a care in the goddamn world expecting a warm welcome after everything. Especially with the things he said? It was one thing to have him come back out of literally nowhere, but for him to say all of those things too? It hurts and I don't wanna go through that again, Edward. I can't go through that again." Edward nodded with a frown settled on his face as he reached out and grabbed her hand, "You can't avoid him forever though, especially if you're both in the same town." "Should've thought about that before he left." "You're right, I should have." The pair both look toward the main entrance where Carlisle stood in the same outfit he'd worn the night before albeit a tad wrinkled and disbelieved with his normally tame hair sticking out in different directions. Her face grew into a scowl as she crossed her arms, "What part of "I'll call the cops" don't you understand? I don't want you here." Carlisle turned to stare at Edward and gave him a small nod. Obviously picking up on something Y/N couldn't quite understand, he stood up and walked out with Bella awkwardly trailing behind him making Y/N wonder just how long she was standing there watching her pour her heart out to boyfriend. Shaking away the thoughts, she looked to Carlisle. "As much as I hate you right now, I'd rather not see you get dragged away in a pair of cuffs so please just go." Carlisle only shook his head as she slowly began walking toward her, "You know I can't do that, love." "No. You don't get to say that. You don't get to come in here and act like you still care." At this, Carlisle stopped his advances as he stared her down. "I'll always care about you. I know I have a weird way of showing it, but I was only doing what I thought was best. For my family, for you." "I know that Carlisle, I could care less about the fact that you left. It's how you left and how you came back. It was just so sudden, there was no warning and you just sprung it on me. Then yesterday with how upset you got with me when I didn't immediately fall into your arms that you thought you could say such horrible things...How did you expect me to react?" As she listed off all these wrongdoings, Carlisle felt an overwhelming sense of shame and embarrassment creep onto him as he looked down at the wooden floors beneath him. "Y/N, I know there's nothing I could ever do to make it better, but I truly am sorry for all the pain I've caused you with my absence. You're absolutely right when you say the way I left was awful. I did take the easy way out, but I knew if I did it in person I wouldn't be able to stop myself from leaving you. I knew the family was counting on me and I couldn't risk my own emotions overpowering what they needed me to do." "And yesterday? What the hell was that?" Carlisle sighed as his frown deepened, "Like you said, I came back expecting you to fully accept me once again. I thought you'd be blinded with joy that you wouldn't care about me just showing up and when you didn't I just...It was painful. Having you yell at me talking about how you didn't want me around was hurtful. I didn't know how to react so I gave into my anger and I said terrible things that I didn't mean. There is no excuse for my actions or the words I said last night, but please believe me when I say that I didn't mean a word of what I said. I was angry, frustrated, and admittedly a bit thirsty. I acted like a monster and I don't expect your forgiveness, but I hope you understand just how sorry and regretful I am." At his long admission, Y/N let out a sigh as she ran a hand through her hair. "God I hate you." Carlisle looked at her, pain swirling around in his eyes as he tried to ignore the pang of hurt that made its way through his chest. "You should. I don't-" "I hate that you left. I hate that you couldn't be a fucking man and tell me yourself. I hate that you came back out of nowhere and said all those horrid things to me. I hate that you had the nerve to take advantage of your child for your own benefit. I hate how you're still here even after I threatened to call the cops on you and I hate that I still need your touch," She managed to spill out in a long, desperate breath as the salty tears began to prick at her eyes once more. Carlisle sucked in a breath before using his enhanced speed to get to the woman who's strong resolve was slowly cracking for the man who had caused her so much heartbreak. He slowly and softly brought his hands to rest on either side of her head as he gently craned her neck to look up at him as she gripped onto his arms with tears now freely streaming down her face. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as she continued to speak, "I hate how relieved I feel now that you're here," He then pressed his soft lips to the tip of her nose "I hate how I feel like I can finally breathe," Another kiss was pressed to her cheek "And I hate how much I just want you to kiss me already." At her words, Carlisle's gaze darkened slightly before he pulled her body close to his and pressed his lips to hers. Her arms threw themselves around his neck as she jumped up onto him, his strong arms immediately catching and supporting her weight as they desperately moved their lips together as if it were the last time. She tightened her hold on him as she ran her hands through his golden locks, the familiar feeling of love and adoration filling her heart as she did so, lips still moving feverishly in sync. After a few more moments, they pulled away with Y/N breathing deeply from the lack of oxygen while Carlisle stared at her with his loving eyes. Once her breathing returned back to normal, she stared into his eyes as she spoke, "But most of all, I hate how much I still love you." Carlisle let out a sigh of relief and happiness as she pulled her even closer to him, the tiniest of spaces between them being closed as they embraced each other. "I love you so much, Y/N. So so much," He spoke as he buried his face into her hair as he inhaled the scent of her sweet shampoo. "I love you too but if you ever leave me like that again I promise I won't hesitate to hit you harder than I did last night." "I wouldn't dream of it, my love. I'm yours till the end of time."

#carlisle cullen #twilight #twilight imagines #twilight fanfic #edward cullen #bella cullen #bella swan #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #twilight imagine #carlisle cullen imagines #carlisle cullen imagine #requested #imagines #imagine #fanfic #carlisle x reader

534 notes · View notes

luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Love Her: Family Night Timestamp

Summary: The reader is starting to feel left out of her own family and with no one around to talk to, she ends up leaving home. When Dean catches up with her, they figure out the best way to help the reader feel like she belongs again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 3,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of abuse

A/N: Enjoy!

______

You sat at the kitchen table, finishing eating dinner alone when you heard the garage door open. A few moments later you watched the twins rush inside, Ana carrying Emma in on her hip and Dean right behind them. He had a styrofoam container in his hands and you knew they’d gone out to eat for dinner.

“Hey kiddo,” he said to you, the twins washing up at the sink. “It’s late guys. Showers and then bed.”

“Dad,” they both groaned.

“Bed guys. It’s nine already. You can read after you wash up if you want,” said Ana. “De, I’m gonna give Emma her bath and put her to bed, okay?”

“Sounds good,” he said. He put the food away and washed up last, glancing over at where you played with the last scraps of your food. “How was school today?”

“Fine,” you said. You picked up your plate and pushed the leftovers into the trash before sticking it in the dishwasher. You turned to go when a hand caught your arm.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, shrugging him off.

“I’m sorry we didn’t invite you to dinner,” he said.

“Dean, seriously it’s fine,” you said.

“Dean. I haven’t gotten Dean in over a year,” he said. “I know you’ve been pulling away. Don’t try and hide it.”

“I’m twenty years old. You gotta let me be dad,” you said. “I don’t want to do things with a pack of children all the time.”

“Nothing you can say to me will get me to be pissed off at you,” he said. “So stop whatever it is-”

“I’m moving out. I’m moving in with Tommy,” you said. He blinked his eyes and rubbed his temple. “I am twenty. You can’t say a word about it.”

“I thought Tommy was away at training,” he said.

“He is. I’m gonna move in and be there by the time he comes back.”

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I want to move in with my boyfriend. What’s-”

“Tommy called me earlier today. He said you haven’t spoken to him all week. Just a quick text and you’re always short with him. He was getting concerned. We’re all getting concerned,” he said. “If I call him right now, is he gonna tell me what you said?”

“Go right ahead,” you said. He pulled out his phone and you walked over to the foyer. Dean made a face at you and you walked outside, climbing into your car and driving off before he knew what hit him.

“Fuck,” you said an hour later, jumping when you saw Dean sit down next to you out of the corner of your eye.

“Kiddo, you’re scaring me,” said Dean. You played with a piece of grass, Dean bumping your shoulder. “Why are we sitting fifty feet away from the tallest and most isolated bridge in town?”

“Cause I drove until I wanted to stop was all,” you said, ripping the grass into small pieces before picking out another one.

“Are you jealous of the baby?”

“What? Of course I’m not-”

“Emma takes up a lot of our time, time you used to get. You don’t...we don’t talk to you as much anymore. We see you at night for an hour maybe,” he said.

“I’m twenty.”

“I’m forty two, who gives a fuck,” he said. “Baby, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“Yeah, you are. I adopted you. You’re my daughter whether you like it or not,” he said.

“Maybe I don’t like it anymore,” you said. You stood up and walked back onto the path, following it about a quarter across the bridge when a strong arm grabbed you. “Dean seriously, get-”

“Sit your ass down,” he said. He tugged you down to the hard wood planks and your bottom lip wobbled as you looked up at him. He knelt down and sighed, frowning when you flinched away from him. “I’m so stupid. It’s the anniversary. It’s an event anniversary.”

“What?” you said. He sat down on his bottom and held his arms out, letting you come to him before he pulled you into his chest.

“When your dad hurt you. It’s two years ago tonight,” he said. “For some people, it can trigger PTSD and the days surrounding it. Shit, I thought you were gonna jump off a freaking bridge.”

“Dad, no, I wouldn’t. I’d never hurt you like that,” you said. He nodded and you sat with him, letting him rub a hand up and down your back.

“When’d the nightmares start?” he asked quietly.

“Three weeks ago,” you said. “Tommy’s been away and he’s so tired at the end of the day and stressed about doing school still while at training. He’s always way too tired. You’re so busy with Emma all the time. I didn’t want to bother you. It was just nightmares.”

“Look at me,” he said. You wearily lifted your head up, his hand cupping your cheek. “I don’t care if you are seventy years old. You always talk to me. You will never in your life bother me. Emma is your baby sister but she is not more important than you. She might need me more right now in life but she will never be more important. You ever feel like this, you come to me or Ana, you call Uncle Sam, you call anybody. We will make sure Emma is taken care of that way Ana and I can take care of you.”

“I’m not a baby though,” you said.

“Sweetie, I had a near mental breakdown when I was older than you after Jo and the baby. I had to be reminded to feed myself. I wasn’t a baby either and I needed all the help I could get. I need you to understand that you may be twenty, you may be an adult, but you will always be my child. You come to me and I will help you, always. But you gotta come to me, kiddo.”

“I got scared,” you said.

“Of me?”

“I didn’t want you to get rid of me cause I had problems again. I always had problems and I’ve been okay for a while,” you said. “I just...if my other dad could wind up so horrible just like that, maybe you would...ask me to go cause it was too much with Emma. You shouldn’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“I worry about you every day. I’ve worried every day since I met you,” he said. You nodded and took a deep breath, Dean pulling the two of you up to your feet. He put his arms around you and sat you both down on a nearby bench, kissing the top of your head. “Talk to me, kiddo. What’s going on that made you feel like this?”

“Dad, it was like you said. It’s cause it’s when that night happened and-”

“That was the trigger. It’s not what you’re feeling. I saw your face when we came home. You felt left out,” he said.

“Dad, you’re young. You’re still so young and Ana is young and you have this young family with a baby and the twins are only nine and I’m...I don’t fit in. I want to be an adult and everything that comes with it but sometimes I just wish I could tell mom and dad all my problems and they’d disappear. I wish I fit in with everyone. I wish I wasn’t so fucked up in the head that I believe the lies it tells me and I turn into that mean kid that came here again when all that mean kid wanted was a dad. I’m just…”

“You need a break, kiddo. You need to be a kid and you gotta learn that a bit,” he said. “You know my friend Dr. Ellis? Wylie?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s a psychologist. He has a certification in childhood development,” he said.

“You want to send me to a kid shrink,” you said.

“I would like for the both of us to go talk to my friend who specializes in adult cases like yours for one session. If you like it, we’ll go back. If you can’t stand it, we’ll try something else. I was always shit at the psych stuff,” he said.

“Dad don’t make me go,” you said.

“I’m going with. If I go be vulnerable in there will you give it a chance for me?” he asked. You shrugged and he rubbed your arm. “Please, sweetheart?”

“Fine,” you sighed.

“Alright. Why don’t we get out of the cold and head home?” he asked. You stood up and he followed after, stilling when you stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, about tonight and everything,” you said.

“Don’t apologize. Come on, let’s head home and we’ll stay up late with Ana watching movies like we used to. We’ll have some fun, I promise.”

Five Days Later

“Hey guys, sorry for the wait,” said Wylie as he entered the office. You had your arms crossed and were sat back on the couch, Dean sitting on the edge of the cushion. “Y/N, nice to see you again.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, Wylie taking a seat in a chair, crossing his legs and giving you a smile.

“Last time you spoke to a therapist was when you were nearly eighteen. I read over some of your old files. I found them quite interesting,” he said.

“I bet you did,” you said, turning to stare out the window.

“Y/N, don’t be rude.”

“Dean, no offense but I’m in charge, not you. I don’t give a shit about fake manners. I’d much rather have some honesty. So. You got pretty good about lying to the therapists when you were around fourteen. I’m going to guess you got some regular internet access around then? School library?”

“Local library,” you said, Dean turning his head. “He’s saying I used to lie to the kid shrinks because I told them what they wanted to hear because I could look up stuff online.”

“Why would you do that?” asked Dean.

“Because the last thing you want in that system is to get a mentally fucked up label slapped on top of everything else,” you said. “Is that what you found interesting, Wylie?”

“You are very defensive which is. You’re a very sweet young woman on every other interaction we’ve had together. This is good. I’m not gonna get the bulllshit those other therapists did which I’m very happy for. So. Why don’t you tell me why you think your father is going to abandon you and wants you out of your own family?”

You gave him a glare, Wylie giving you a smirk.

“Wanna cut to the real shit? We can do that. Why do you want to be a little kid again?”

“I don’t want-” you said, Wylie raising an eyebrow.

“You want to be loved and taken care of like a child, like your siblings.”

“I do not want to be treated like a child,” you scoffed. “That is ridiculous.”

“So if you could grow up with a father like Dean, you wouldn’t want that?” said Wylie.

“Of course I would want it. But-“

“So you do want to be like a kid again.”

“That’s not what I said. I-“

“Dean. Since Y/N’s ever been with you, or since she returned to live with you, have you ever treated her like a child?” asked Wylie.

“Of course I did,” said Dean. Wylie shook his head and Dean tilted his. “Yes I-“

“Y/N, your childhood had an abrupt stopping point and even before that it was tumultuous. It’s very simple. You see it everyday with your younger siblings. You crave a sliver of that kind of relationship. The anniversary of your abusive father’s actions brought up a lot of feelings and your boyfriend being gone, your family doing things without you, it caused a reaction of sorts. An overload of emotions, no one to turn to and all you want is Dean to make you feel better like he did that awful night.”

“You’re a very assumptive doctor,” you said.

“Am I wrong?” he asked.

“Yeah, you are. I don’t want him to make my lunch and put my hair in pigtails or any of the other shit you-“

“I never said you want him to do things for you. What I did say was you want the emotional support a child gets. It changes as children grow and become independent but you, you never got to experience it. A part of you craves being able to be able to go to Dean and he’ll make it all better. But you’ve got it stuck in your head that you’re too old to have a good old cry session with dad or get a hug and cuddle. You think there’s a socially acceptable amount of time for that sort of thing and since your life has been going okay, you can’t go to dad anymore even though you desperately need to. How am I doing so far?”

“You’re full of shit,” you said.

“Y/N, it’s been awhile since...maybe Tommy’s close call was the last time we had a real open conversation like we used to,” said Dean. “You’ve been pulling away ever since Emma came home really.”

“Don’t want to bother dad? Think he’s got his hands full?” asked Wylie. You stood up and Wylie stared up at you. “Sit down.”

“I’m done. I-“

“You’re done when I say you are,” said Wylie. He got to his feet and stuck his face in yours. “Sit your ass down.”

“What the fuck kind of therapist-“

“One that knows a scared kid when he sees one. If you want to hug your dad, hug your fucking dad. If you want his attention, tell him you want to spend time with him. He has an obligation to you that doesn’t end because you’re an adult. The love part never ends. Tell him what you need and I guarantee he gives it to you.”

You sat down slowly, staring at the ground for a moment.

“Kid, I’ve done this long enough to know what buttons to press to get you talking. We all know you don’t want to be treated like a child. You’re an adult and you deserve to be treated like one. It doesn’t mean you still can’t be a child. Dean is still a child to his parents. I’m still a child to mine. If you want something or need something, you just need to ask. So. What do you need from Dean?”

“I don’t know,” you said. You started to pick at your nail, Dean reaching over and holding your hand. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

“Is it Emma?” he asked and you shook your head. “It’s okay if-”

“Dean, I love her. You deserve to have a baby you made. I know that was a big deal for you.”

“Do you feel left out of the family?” asked Wylie.

“Sometimes,” you said quietly.

“Honey-”

“Let her talk, Dean. Go on.”

“I know I’m...independent and life stuff kinda forced me to be that way. Normally I’m okay with things being that way but I was just lonely this week I guess and it got to me.”

“Do you feel lonely often?” asked Wylie.

“Sometimes. It’s not that bad. I like it sometimes. But sometimes it just...makes me...god this is embarrassing.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about at all,” said Dean.

“I don’t want to be alone again. The two years I was away from you and the twins were horrible. I can’t be alone like that again. I know I’m not anymore but you’re just busy with the other guys or Ana a lot. I don’t...I just miss you. We don’t spend time together anymore.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Wylie. You looked down and watched Dean tug on your bracelet. “What is that? I see you both have them.”

“I made the one Y/N has for the baby, the one with Jo. Was meant to be a gift I could pass down to my first kid. So I did. Y/N made one for me a few years later.”

“You two will be just fine,” said Wylie with a smile. “Your actions are louder than your words with you guys. My suggestion, for both your benefits, would be to set aside some time each week to spend with one another. Maybe you have Sunday dinner together, maybe you go for a walk. Just do something to spend time with one another, where Y/N can get some attention. Make it part of your routine and I think that’ll benefit you both greatly.”

“I think we can do that,” said Dean. “Definitely.”

Sunday Night

“Hey,” said Dean, leaning over the back of the couch after dinner. “I know we said we’d make Sunday nights our us time and all but I have a surprise for you this week if you’re interested.”

“Weren’t we gonna watch a movie?” you asked, leaning back.

“We’ll watch it later. You stay up until midnight anyways. Change into some workout clothes,” he said.

“What are we doing?” you asked.

“We never picked up our boxing. I figured that was something we both liked doing together. We’re gonna go to a real gym. What do you say?”

“Yeah. That was fun,” you said with a smile. “Give me ten minutes to get ready.”

“Nice right hook,” said an older guy as he walked past you punching a bag. You stopped and took a few deep breaths, Dean giving the guy a nod. “Hey. This your kid Winchester?”

“She sure is. Damian, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Damian. He’s one of the trainers here.”

“Convinced your old man to try it out when he was stitching an eyebrow for me back in the day. I don’t see you around much anymore, Winchester.”

“Home gym plus a baby,” he said with a smile. “Y/N and I used to practice together. She only had a few months practice but she’s got a knack for it.”

“You fight?” he asked you and you shook your head. “Do you want to?”

“No, she is never getting in a ring. This is purely for fun,” said Dean.

“Can she hit some mats in the ring? It’s free for the moment. Come on, it’s fun. Floor’s a bit bouncy too. Dad can’t say no that,” he said.

“Fine, fine,” said Dean. You followed him up to the steps, bending between the ropes he held for you, Dean coming up with a set of mats for his hands.

“Alright. Show me what you got,” said Damian. Dean put the mats on and held them up, giving you a nod. You shot your arms out a few times, Damian nodding to himself. “You grew up rough.”

“Huh?” you said, slamming your glove against the pad.

“You throw angry punches. I see a lot of kids like that. Lift that back heel up more.”

You turned and threw a harder punch, trying for an uppercut before you took a break.

“You got some technique. You can build on that, get your body stronger, hit harder,” he said.

“She’s not fighting,” said Dean again.

“She’s not fighting a person but she can still fight a bag. You know what that’s like,” he said. You looked between the two of them and Dean put his hands back up. “Come on kid. A few more rounds and then dad can take a turn.”

“Dad,” you asked on the drive home from the gym. You were stopped at a red light and he hummed. “Did you ever do a real boxing fight?”

“A few times. Even with the headgear nearly got a concussion so I stuck to the things that don’t hit back after that. I know it sounds fun sweetheart and technically I can’t stop you but I really don’t want-”

“I don’t want to try a real fight or anything. Just what that Damian guy said made me wonder.”

“I picked up boxing after Jo. Months later but that’s when I learned about it. I did a few fights and went back to the bag.”

“Oh. I thought it was more recent from what he said.”

“I went once, after Paula took you. Didn’t go well.”

“What happened?”

“Convinced Damian to have a go with me in the ring. I think I lasted about three seconds?” he chuckled. “I haven’t gone back too much since.”

“Why? I mean he does that for a living. There’s no way you’d win.”

“Honestly, I wanted to lose. I couldn’t keep you home where you belonged. I will never forget the way you looked at me that night. I thought I deserved to get my ass kicked.”

“That’s stupid.”

“So was the stunt you pulled last week,” he said. “We haven’t talked liked this in a while. It’s good. I like this again.”

“Don’t be stupid like that again?” you asked.

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod.

“Okay then.” He was quiet for a while until he eventually pulled into the driveway and shut the car off. “I’m gonna be better from now on. I promise.”

“We were both stupid. It’s okay,” you said. “Can we go back to the gym next week?”

“Of course. You still like it?”

“I always liked it cause it was something we did together,” you said. “So yeah, I still like it.”

“Good. Want to go inside and wash up before we watch a movie or something?”

“Sounds good to me, dad.”

“Me too, sweetheart.”

________

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