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#wash your water bottle Wednesday
bennygesserit · 1 year
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WASH YOUR WATER BOTTLE IF YOU HAVEN’T IN A WHILE
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A quick reminder for those observing Wash Your Water Bottle Wednesday: if your water bottle has a straw or a spout, give it some extra attention! Get in there and scrub the crap out! Use a little straw-cleaning brush if you've got one--you can generally find them at the grocery store--but even a craft pipe cleaner or just a little stick can help! The critters that might be living on the hard plastic walls of your water bottle are nothing compared to the nightmare monsters being incubated in the warm embrace of a silicone mouthpiece.
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m0nst3rj3n · 10 months
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namelessennes · 9 months
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guess what day it is?
WASH YOUR WATER BOTTLE WEDNESDAY
if you haven't cleaned your water bottle in a while, you should maybe go do that now before you forget (also applies to other beverage containers)
i hope you're having a good day! 💕
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disability-can-be · 11 months
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Good morning, low-battery pals!
Today I found an awesome kickstarter for a product called the BrailleDoodle. It is a double-sided pad designed to teach Braille on one side. The other side is a blank grid of magnetic balls that can be lifted with the magnetic stylus, allowing any shape of tactile art or writing to be made. It's like a touchable Etch-a-Sketch! They have guides for the blank side as well, so you can have a little help too.
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They have a special going on for the first ten days of the campaign, with each BrailleDoodle being $70. The project is already fully funded! Here is the link if you would like to explore!
(I am not related to this project in any way, just sharing a cool thing I found.)
I hope you all have a wonderful day! Don't forget to wash your water bottle!
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madeinjapanricecake · 3 months
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hey guys! gentle reminder that it’s Wash Your Water Bottle Wednesday
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catcake24 · 22 days
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Happy Wash your Waterbottle Wednesday :)
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Be sure to use a bit of soap and wash the straw if you can, because bacteria can build up in these things.
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mandrellaeffect · 5 hours
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Happy Wash Your Waterbottle Wednesday on a Thursday
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A day may come when the courage to wash your drinking vessel fails, when we forsake our hot soapy water or sanitation tablets,
and break all habits of cleanliness
An hour of mould and gunk and tummy aches,
when the habits of routine bottle washing come crashing down,
but it is not this day!
this day we wash!!
by all you hold dear on this good earth,
I bid you fill your sink and scrub, water bottle users of tumblr!
this post is dedicated to all of the people in my notes on the obi-wan post who say they washed their fucking water bottle 🩵🫧
it’s not dedicated to those who are too attached to their mould to wash their fucking water bottle. alas the slime has taken them. rip. 🦠🖤
@beeseverywhen made another meme 💜💟
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cheriladycl01 · 23 days
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Could you fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader? They're on vacation during the winter and she's cold, so she take a water bottle and cradle it. Nando saw it and felt jelly and left out🤭 I don't know if it make sense. Add something else to it if it's not right. Thanks!! :))
Finland Freeze - Fernando Alonso x WifeReader
Plot: Fernando decided to take you on a ski trip, however after testing out the bunny slopes and multiple falls you need to go back to the log cabin for some warmth, however Fernando feels as though he should be that warmth instead!
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"Come on. It's not that hard!" your husband Fernando laughed from the bottom of the small hill. You look down at him, from up here the slope looked huge.
There was multiple kids going past you, throwing themselves into the activity while you stayed there apprehensively.
"Come on mi amor!" he shouts up to you. You take a few more seconds before starting pushing yourself down the slope on the ski's. You start to speed up and you try leaning into the turn but end up just plopping down into the icy slope. You look up, pulling your goggles up seeing your husband laughing at you with his hands on his knees.
A dad laugh.
You got up quickly rubbing the snow away from your now probably bruised bum. You start up again, taking the turns a little slower and manage to get down to your husband with only 2 more slip ups.
As you neared him, he opened his arms wide as if you were a toddler coming towards him. You however didn't fully slow to a stop, and end up falling in between his legs taking him down with you.
"Offph, I know when i married you I said till death do us part... but your taking that very seriously!" he jokes looking over you before helping you up from the snowy floor.
"Your the one who got me to come to Finland with you! I would have happily spent my winter in Dubai, or Australia!" you comment, pulling him into a hug.
The next few times and he comes down the hill with you, holding your hand and making sure to balance you back out when you start to skid.
After a few more hours, your getting too cold, your cheeks fully red and not enjoying the dropping temperatures. You say that you'll go back to the cabin on the ski resort to warm up while Fernando goes on the big slopes with his personal trainer.
You get in, changing from the damp skiing gear you were sporting and wrapping a dressing gown around you while you shove it all in the washing machine.
You quickly make your way over to the bathroom getting in the warm shower and rinsing of your body, keeping it on a warm temperature to try and warm up the furthest bits of your body.
You stayed there for at least 45 minutes, where you fingers slowly started to resemble prunes. You put on joggers and a hoodie of your husbands and some big fluffy socks. You make you way down to the living area turning the kettle on immediately. You grab the matches and light the wood inside the fireplace that Fernando had put there the previous night when you both realized you'd used most of it up.
Once the kettle has boiled you split the water, most of it going into the pink fluffy hot water bottle you'd conveniently taken with you, even though you'd been told you wouldn't need it. The other goes into making yourself a tea, using the last of the milk you guys had brought for the cup, noting you'd have to go to the little shop on the lodge sight later tonight.
You grab multiple unhealthy snacks that Fernando always held a grudge when he saw you lazing around on the sofa and his cheat day foods in hand on a random Wednesday.
You set yourself up on the sofa under a white fluffy blanket, nesting yourself down in between the large pillows. You hug the hot water bottle and turn on a new crappy rom-com in the Netflix recommended.
Fernando walks in the door, snow in his hair from the growing snow storm outside making you chuckle at his gruff entrance despite his small stature.
He walk over to you and leans down kissing your lips making you recoil away and bury down into your blankets more due to the coldness he brought.
"No kisses?" he asks looking at you with a tilted head and puppy dog eyes.
"You're cold hermoso" you smile shyly, not wanting to be rude but also wanting to keep warm.
"Hmmmm, i'll get changed and then you've got to let me in that bundle of warmth!" he exclaims before crossing over to the bedroom.
He comes back in a pair of shorts and t-shirt the outfit making your eyes widen shocked that he could even possibly be warm in that outfit. He starts to climb into your nest you've created pulling a random wrapper off you and into the little bin behind you both before he starts to undo all your hard work of keeping the warmth in.
"Mmmmm no please!" you complain hugging the water bottle closer trying to keep the warmth.
"I'm hurt mi amor! This bottle is a better source of heat than me? Your husband?" he asks looking over you and you want to nod you really do but his expression makes you just stay still as he starts to pull the blanket away from you. He lays down, re-wrapping the blanket around himself when he pulls your hot water bottle away.
You groan out a complain.
"Mmmm I'm better than this stupid bottle!" he says before snaking his hands up under your hoodie making you shiver and whine from how cold his hands are.
"Fernando!" you gasp when he fully flattens his hands on your back.
"We'll warm up soon" he smiles fully laying on your and hugging your body into his.
"I was warm until you showed up" you sigh starting to play with his hair that was under the blanket so your finger tips didnt get too cold.
Eventually the fire really kicked in and your body heats started to regulate meaning you were both warming each other up nicely now, to the point where you both fell asleep in your little nest of the sofa hugging each other with the soft voices from the next movie that had automatically played on in the back ground.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313
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leaentries · 2 months
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out of line | nico hischier
summary: when his girl finds the ring, it doesn’t end like he had hoped.
warnings: mostly angst, swearing, this does have a happy ending (im sorry i couldnt leave my babies in dispair)
wc: 1.9k+
a/n: i’m sorry in advance, i feel like i don’t write angst that well…but i hope you enjoy regardless
the captain’s girl masterlist
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Heaviness lay in thick blankets around the room, almost like the inches of sand that covered the expanse of beach outside. Your throat felt tight at the intense gaze Nico was blazing at you. It wasn’t often the two of you fought, but it sure hurt like hell when you did.
Shuddered breaths heaved in your chest, hands pricking at your nails. It all felt like a nightmare. Except, you weren’t waking up.
Tension had been rising for days, emotions only growing as you and Nico danced around each other. You had refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room, or rather, the ring.
You loved Nico, with everything in your being, but you weren’t ready for marriage. Not yet anyway. Nico had always seemed so understanding about you choosing to wait a few more years before doing anything rash. Yet now, you weren’t so sure.
With Nico inviting you to come along for the trip during bye-week, you couldn’t have been more ecstatic. The thought of being able to spend an entire week with your boyfriend was like a breath of much needed fresh air. And it was, for the first few days.
At least until Wednesday.
❥.
Nico had gone out with some of the guys, promising to be back by 4 at the latest. Not that you minded much, getting the very nice and very expensive villa to yourself for a while was enticing.
After an hour or so in the sun, you decided to take a little break and use the giant bathtub that had been screaming your name since you had arrived. Grabbing your bag and some clothes, you made your way to the en-suite, making sure to leave the door slightly cracked, just in case Nico got home.
You turned on the faucet, making sure the water temperature was just right, before stripping yourself and sinking into the welcoming space. Closing your eyes, you sunk your body lower into the water, until it brushed against your chin with any movement. The motion of the slight waves was like a massage to your sore, sun-burnt skin.
You remained in the tub until the water ran cold and your skin began to get pruny. You pulled the drain, before carefully getting out and wrapping yourself in the closest towel. Walking over to the counter, you rummaged through your bag, trying to find your face wash, yet coming up empty handed.
You rolled your eyes, realizing you must have left it somewhere. Although, it was just a minor inconvenience, since you and Nico both used the same brand, so you weren’t worrying too much.
Squatting down to open the cabinet under the sink, you pulled out Nico’s black bag, quickly opening it to find the familiar bottle. You began to pull stuff out, before a little velvet box fell onto the tile beneath you.
Your breath caught in your throat, hoping it isn’t what you think it is. Nico knew you wanted to marry him, but not now, not during the peak of his career and your schooling. It just wasn’t what you saw for yourself. Shakily reaching down to grab the box, you stood up, scared to open it.
You almost opted to put it back, knowing that if it was an engagement ring, your relationship would never go back to the way it was. This would bring up a new wave of emotions and obstacles. It would open up a door you didn’t know if you could close.
Bracing yourself against the counter, you slowly opened the box. Gleaming back at you, in all its glory, was the most beautiful ring you could have imagined. It was the perfect ring. But this only made it hurt worse. Just picturing Nico picking out a the cut of diamond you had always wanted, or the band color, had your heart clenching with sadness.
You knew you were gonna have to talk to him about it, before he did something that neither of you would be able to walk away from unscathed.
It was the only option to save your relationship. To save Nico.
Sighing, you swiftly get dressed, placing the box back on the counter, hoping that Nico would realize you had found it. Now this may seem cowardly, but it was truly what you thought would be best. At least then, the blow would be softer than a straight out rejection.
You figured that if you prompted him to bring up the ring, the conversation would be easier. Only, he never brought it up. You could tell he knew, by the way he was so cautious with anything he did around you past 48 hours. This only caused your heartache to worsen.
Eventually, the tension came to a boiling point. Having just got home from a private dinner, you can’t help but feel as though Nico had originally planned for more to come from that picture perfect beachfront sunset. Deep down, you didn’t need to guess, you knew.
This was the night Nico was supposed to propose.
You felt conflicted as you entered the living room in silence. On one hand, you felt relieved he didn’t get down on one knee, yet on the other, you felt guilty for hoping the man you loved wouldn’t confess his undying loyalty to you. Your chest tightened with emotion.
“Can we not do this anymore?”
Nico’s voice rang out, interrupting your battling thoughts. Your brows furrowed in confusion.
“Not do what, Neeks?”
“Not sit here and pretend you didn’t find the ring, or that I wasn’t gonna propose to you.”
There it was. The bomb finally dropped. With those few words, the harsh truth of the situation became real. All of it did. No matter how hard you tried to remain in denial, or refuse to acknowledge it, reality always finds a way to bite back.
You bit your lip, contemplating on how to begin voicing your side, “Nico, what you need to understand is-”
He cut you off, “I do understand, Y/n. But you told me about your whole “plan” 2 years ago when we first got together.” His chest heaved with despair, “I thought you’d change your mind by now.”
“My plan? My plan was never going to change. You can’t be upset with me, when you were the one who assumed I’d say yes.”
Nico felt his heart shatter at your words, anger quickly began to boil through his veins, “Of course I’d assume you’d say yes,” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “I mean, fuck, we live together. We do everything with each other. I’m sorry for wanting to take that step with you, truly I am.”
His sarcasm didn't get lost on you. Scoffing, you turned away from him.
“Nico, you’re not listening to me-“
“What’s there to hear?” He cut you off once more, arms flaring into the air, “That you don’t want to marry me? God forbid someone actually wants to love you.”
You spin back around, tears springing to your eyes, “You are so out of line right now, Nico.”
Yet, your shaky tone did nothing to calm him.
“How am I out of line? For loving you?”
Disbelief was written all over your face. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the intensity of it all. Nico’s harsh comments pelted through any sort of resolve you had left. Never once did you think Nico would say something like that. Especially knowing your past. It stung worse than any pain you could imagine. 
“T-That’s not fair,” You quivered, “And you know it.” 
Nico’s tense form deflated at your meek voice. The anger that once flowed through him like hot lava, has now receded, leaving nothing but spiky coldness and depression. He felt lost, plagued by the possibility of not spending the rest of his life with you.
He gingerly walked across the room, now standing directly parallel to you, “Why?” His voice was distant and cracking under the weight of his emotions, “Why won’t you marry me, schatzi?”
The use of the familiar nickname was enough to break you. Sobs wracked through your body, knees becoming shaky. Nico immediately engulfed you in his arms, cradling you against his chest like it was the last time he’d ever feel you. You felt Nico’s own tears fall freely, the hurt grasping you both. Heavy cries left Nico’s chest, only furthering your guilt. 
“I’m so sorry, Nico!” You blubbered hopelessly, “I love you so m-much, I just,” Your sentence was cut short by the rapid hiccups in your breath. 
Nico’s hands moved to gently hold your face, pulling it to meet his bloodshot eyes. His cheeks were red and puffy, wet tracks trailing down to his chin, but you knew you didn't look much better. He tried his best to calm your breathing, even through his own unsteady gasps. After a few minutes, you found yourself composed enough to continue. 
“I don’t know,” You admitted weakly, “I don’t know why I don’t want to marry you, Neeks. I’m just not ready, yet.”
Nico took a second to mull over your words. He dropped his hands from your face, leaving you distraught at the possibility of him being even more upset. He quickly turned, retreating to your shared bedroom. You felt your throat squeeze, a new wave of anxiety washing over you. 
Finding the courage to follow him, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. 
You made your way over to him, perching on your knees in front of his legs. He lifted his head, pain written all over his handsome features. Your body physically ached at the amount of hurt swimming in his doe eyes. You cursed yourself for being the cause of it. Nico reached out to slowly like he’d spook you if he moved too quickly. He pulled you to stadle his waist, big eyes drilling into yours. 
He dropped his head in shame, “I’m sorry, schatzi.” 
You swallowed thickly, having not expected an apology.
“I should have talked to you about it first. I-I just got excited when we finally started talking about the future, I thought you had changed your mind.” 
You relaxed slightly, realizing he wasn’t gonna end things, “Don’t be sorry,” You rasped, voice hoarse from crying, “I should have made it clearer.” 
Lifting his face, you forced him to look at you, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get married eventually, Neeks. I promise, I do. Just-,” You looked at his hopeful gaze, “Just not right now.”
He nodded slightly, understanding your words. 
Your eye flickered from his eyes to his lips, before carefully placing a delicate kiss. Nico responded almost immediately, hands pulling you deeper. The kiss was slow and passionate. The days of bottled-up emotions pouring into each other's mouths. You slipped your hands into the back of his hair, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere. 
You eventually pulled away for air, chests panting. You sat for a moment, just taking in the other’s body. Nico was the first to break the silence. 
“Can you promise me something, schatzi?” Nico begged. 
You nodded quickly, “Anything.” 
“Promise you’ll marry me someday.” He swallowed, face falling into a serious expression.
You smiled slightly at his lingering worry. You kissed him once more as reassurance, before pulling away just enough to speak. 
“I promise I’ll marry you someday, Neeks.”
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corroded-hellfire · 4 months
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I don’t know if this would be of interest to you to write for the AYW universe, but I’m kinda curious about Eddie & Brittany in the early years. Like Eddie’s reaction to becoming a dad for the first time, poor sweet Eddie trying to make things work with Brittany (I’m a sucker for angst, what can I say 🤷‍♀️) just a little insight to how our favourite mechanic was in the beginning
I love the opportunity this gave me to think about Eddie's past, especially in relation to his relationship with Brittany. @munson-blurbs was kind enough to write this with me and she came up with the best possible title for this story: It's Brittany, (The) Bitch
Warnings: childbirth, pre-Reader, Brittany being Brittany
Words: 4.6k
[As You Wish masterlist]
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Eddie pulls his rusted van into the driveway of the small shoebox that currently serves as the Munson residence. He’s been working overtime to help save up for a bigger house, proving difficult with childcare expenses already beginning to pile up despite the fact that the baby won’t arrive for two more weeks. 
He takes a deep breath as he kills the engine, preparing himself for the daily crisis; sure enough, he hears Brittany yelling on the phone before he even sees her. It can only be one of a few people that she’s talking to, and he just hopes she’s at least sitting down in a chair and not pacing back and forth. 
Eddie lets out a sigh as he steps into the kitchen to find Brittany basically walking laps around the kitchen as far as the phone cord allows, one hand holding the receiver and the other on her 38 week baby bump. 
Careful not to interrupt her conversation—if one could even call it that—he clears his throat with a soft ahem. Brittany raises an eyebrow at him in question, to which he responds by nodding his head to the vacant kitchen chair closest to her. 
Brittany looks irritated, but takes the seat nonetheless. 
“I have told you,” she shouts into the phone as she lowers herself into the chair, “I don’t give a shit what you think Uncle Julian is entitled to, he’s not getting a goddamn dime of Dyeda Alex’s money.” 
Eddie long ago learned that it’s all around better for him to stay out of whatever drama Brittany’s family is currently brawling about—and there always is something. If there isn’t, they’ll create it, as evidenced by the Great Cheesecake Battle of 1990.  
Eddie presses a kiss to the top of Brittany’s head, and she gives him a small smile as he walks out of the cramped kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom.  He cleans himself up from work, washing motor oil from his palms, and slips back into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Sometimes Brittany would make it, but Eddie’s been more and more insistent that she stay off her feet lately. Besides, Wednesday evenings mean that Wayne is coming for dinner; there’s something about providing a meal for the man who put his life on hold to raise him that warms Eddie’s heart.  He only wishes that his cooking skills improved with practice, but based on the food he makes never tasting any better, they’re not.
He’s in the middle of tediously peeling potatoes when Brittany pushes herself up out of the chair, waddling over in the direction of the phone base on the wall. “If you tell her that, I swear on all that is holy, I will end you.”
Eddie smiles to himself as he goes back to the potatoes. He very well knows his wife means what she says, and her threat should not be taken lightly.  
“Whatever. Bye.” Brittany slams the receiver down on the phone base and lets out an irritated groan.  
“So,” Eddie starts off smugly, “how’s the Sobachkin family doing?”
“They’re all assholes,” Brittany mumbles as she walks over to get a water bottle from the fridge, chugging it like she’d just run a marathon. 
Your sister is the biggest asshole of all, but you seem to love her, Eddie thinks as he washes off his hands, drying them on a nearby dishtowel. 
“How was work?” Brittany asks as she plops herself back in her chair, already relieved to be off of her feet again. 
“Okay,” Eddie says with a shrug of his shoulders. “Wish they’d fire Mark, though. He’s more trouble than he’s worth with all of us having to fix his mistakes every time.” Eddie glances over his shoulder and sees Brittany staring at her nails, tuning out his side of the conversation. He sighs and goes back to preparing dinner. His fault for thinking she might actually be listening to him, he thinks. “How’re you feeling?”
“Pregnant,” she says flatly, placing a hand on her stomach. “Remind me why I decided to have your kid again?”
Because you allegedly love me, he says to himself, biting back the retort to avoid her wrath. But he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been thinking the same thing. 
After a dinner of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes (neither of which were burnt, to Eddie’s delight), Eddie and Wayne sit on the front porch in identical wicker chairs. It’s a warm summer night, the fireflies occasionally blinking in the dusk, crickets chirping their familiar mating calls. 
Brittany is inside resting; Eddie had asked if she wanted to come out with them, but she’d just wrinkled her nose and said it was too hot. 
Wayne watches his nephew’s leg bounce up and down and his grip tighten on his can of Budweiser. They remain in silence until the older man can’t ignore it any longer. 
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on before you crush that full can of beer you got in your hand?”
Embarrassment paints a blush on Eddie’s cheeks, unable to deny the surge of relief flooding his body that Wayne brought it up. “Just…anxious, I guess.”
“‘Bout what?” Wayne asks, taking a swig from his own can.
“Becoming a dad. I mean, I had you raising me, but before that…” he bites his lower lip as he searches for the right words. “I’m worried I’ll be more like my old man than like you.”
Wayne shakes his head. “Eddie, you were meant to be a dad. And that kid is gonna adore you.” He offers a small smile as he recalls, “You’ve always taken care of people. Even back in high school, you were always looking out for the younger kids in that fantasy game club you ran.”
Eddie chuckles, but everything Wayne says is true. If he saw someone looking lost and lonely, he brought them into the fold. Don’t know how to play D&D? We’ll teach you. Welcome to Hellfire. 
“I guess so. It’s different when it’s your own child, though.”
“I know you can handle it.” Wayne claps him on the back. “And I’m always here for ya. Whatever you need.”
Eddie smiles at him as Brittany comes outside, wearing the frown that seems to be permanently etched on her face. 
“Eddie.” Her tone is clipped and irritated, though Eddie can’t remember doing anything wrong. 
He quickly stands up, nearly spilling his drink. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”
She rolls her eyes. “You left me inside by myself while you two bullshit out here.”
“Eddie just needed to talk to me,” Wayne tries explaining. “We were about to head back in.”
Brittany crosses her arms on top of her baby bump. “Forget it. Clearly, I’m not a priority for you.” She motions to Eddie. “I’m going to bed, and I want to lock up, so you can come in now or sleep outside tonight.”
Eddie bites back his anger. She’s having your baby; just be patient. “Yeah, let me just toss this…” He shakes the empty can. 
Brittany huffs, waddling back into the house without even saying goodbye to Wayne. 
Eddie stops and gives his uncle a long hug. “Next time I see you, I might be a dad,” he grins. “Scary to think about, isn’t it?”
Wayne chuckles. “Nah, kid; you’re gonna be great.” He pauses for a moment, contemplating his words, before deciding to say what’s in his heart. “Listen, Ed; about—”
“Eddie! Let’s go!”
Eddie shoves his hands in his pockets. “I, uh, gotta get going. Thanks for coming over.”
Wayne slowly exhales as he watches his nephew shuffle into the house. “God, I hope he realizes he’s worth so much more than how she treats him.” He shakes his head and trudges to his car. 
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The sound of crying jars Eddie out of a peaceful sleep. His first instinct is that he needs to go check on the baby, only…the baby hasn’t been born yet. The fogginess of sleep clears away just enough for Eddie to realize it’s not the sound of a baby crying, and it’s coming from right next to him. 
The moment he recognizes Brittany’s sobs (as he’s heard them many times over the course of this pregnancy), Eddie bolts up in bed and flicks his bedside lamp on. 
“Britt? Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, voice hoarse from disuse. 
Brittany’s shoulders shake as she cries into her hands, awkwardly—and probably uncomfortably—leaning back against her pillows. She tries to calm herself enough to speak, but she just keeps sputtering over her words. It makes Eddie even more nervous as he scoots closer to her and gently rubs his hand along her arm.
“T-The nursery isn’t done y-yet,” Brittany weeps before hiding her face back in her hands. She leans forward, bent in half as much as she can get with the swell of her belly so large.
The adrenaline coursing through Eddie’s body starts to calm down now that he realizes the life of his wife and child aren’t in danger. He yawns and reaches one hand over to rub soothing circles into the back of Brittany’s silky pajama top. Slowly, she pulls away from his touch and situates herself so she’s able to face him better. 
“It’s not done yet!” she repeats, as if he didn’t hear her the first time. A hint of anger has joined the despair in her voice, the amalgamation of hormones creating another perfect storm.
Eddie lets out a sigh and runs a hand over his face. “Britt, I—”
Brittany doesn’t let him finish; she throws the blankets off of herself and starts pacing back and forth in the space between their bed and the wall. It’s not a large area, so really, she mostly looks as if she’s waddling around in a circle. Under different circumstances, Eddie might laugh. 
“The baby could be here at any time and the nursery still isn’t finished!” A wail comes from Brittany’s lips and he knows that, as difficult as Brittany could be sometimes, this is fueled by hormones—not even she would be this worked up in her usual state. 
Quickly, Eddie jumps out of the bed and walks around to her. He places his hands on her shoulders and stands in front of her so she can’t continue her walking. When she doesn’t look at him, Eddie ducks his head until their gazes catch. 
“The walls are painted. The crib is put together. The shelves are up. Clothes are in the closet. All that’s left to do is put the last pieces of furniture together.” He tries to logic this out with her, hoping it’s the best course of action to get her to calm down. 
“The dresser, the changing table, the toy chest…” Brittany rattles off the list.
“Which all can be done after the baby is born if it needs to be,” Eddie assures her. He cups her cheeks in his hands and takes a deep breath, wanting her to copy his actions. 
Brittany begrudgingly takes a few deep breaths with Eddie, following his inhales and exhales until her system is a little calmer. 
“They should be done before the baby is here,” Brittany says, sounding only slightly less upset than a few moments ago. She rubs at her runny nose and Eddie wipes a few stray tears from her face. 
“We’ve got two weeks until your due date, hun. Don’t worry, it will get done.” Eddie truly believes this, but he knows his words probably don’t sound the most convincing since he was just jolted out of sleep. 
Brittany nods but the emptiness in her expression leaves Eddie unsure if she actually heard his words or not. He’s too tired to question her on it though, so he gently leads her back to bed and helps her get situated. Or at least, as best as she can be this far along. Eddie knows how hard it’s been for her to get comfortable being this close to the end of the pregnancy, so he does anything he can to help. 
Finally, Brittany is settled down in bed and Eddie goes back around to his side. He sits down on the edge of the mattress and flicks the lamp off. Regardless of the dark room, Eddie closes his eyes just to give himself a moment to try and compose himself. 
By the sounds of the steady breathing, Brittany is already back asleep. These last two weeks were going to be hell for Eddie, he just knows it. They’re almost at the end of the tunnel when it comes to the pregnancy, but who knows what insanity will come along when the baby is finally here. 
Figuring he should try to lighten the load that will be put upon him, he pushes himself off the bed and walks into the bedroom across the hall. Eddie tugs on the longest string connected to the ceiling fan and light floods the room, illuminating the partially completed furniture and the pale yellow walls. Eddie winces at how bright the lights are and tries to avert his gaze until he finds the small pile he put his tools into once he finished putting the crib together. 
“Well,” Eddie sighs, “here we go.”
His stiff bones protest as he sits down on the floor. A few plush rugs are rolled up in the corner of the room, but since they’re not yet laid out, Eddie’s bony ass is about to be sitting on a hardwood floor the whole time. Pulling the necessary tools over to him, he gets to work on the remaining pieces of furniture. 
By the time he’s done, he only has about an hour until his alarm goes off for work. The tightness and achiness in his body are even worse than they were before as he trudges back to bed, ready to take full advantage of those precious sixty minutes. 
When his alarm goes off, Brittany gets up as well—she has to pee, unsurprisingly. Eddie takes a cold shower to try and wake himself up, and the moment he steps out of the bathroom, Brittany is sobbing and wrapping her arms around his neck.
He wasn’t expecting her to be there, let alone, coming at him with a force like that, so he staggers back a few steps as he holds onto her. He’s glad he tied the towel around his waist as securely as he did, or he’d be a lot colder standing there in the hallway. 
“Whoa, whoa, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Eddie asks. Brittany sniffles as she pulls back and looks at her husband through watery eyes.
“You put the rest of the furniture together,” she says through some wetter sniffles.
“Mhmm,” Eddie hums, still half asleep. 
Brittany just buries her head in his neck again. Eddie loosely drapes his arms around her waist and lays his head on hers. He’s pretty sure he almost dozed off that way when Brittany pulls back and wipes the tears from her rounded cheeks.
“Thank you, Eddie. I know I overreacted last night.”
Eddie knows it too, but he’s not dumb enough to say that out loud.
“You’re allowed to have emotional reactions to things, babe,” Eddie tells her. He softly trails his fingertips down the swell of her belly. “You’re carrying our baby. Kinda gives you a bit of a hall pass.”
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A week later, Eddie’s finishing up a brake job at work when his boss tells him his wife is on the phone. Immediately, Eddie knows it’s about the baby. He could probably count the number of times that Brittany has called his work on one hand in all the years he’s been working here. 
“Hello?” Eddie answers the phone, not caring that he’s getting black, greasy fingerprints all over the receiver. 
“In labor,” Brittany pants out, clearly in pain. “M-Meet at the hospital.”
“I’m on my way, hun.”
Everything is a blur as Eddie washes his hands, punches out, and climbs into his truck. Brittany’s in labor. Which means the impending arrival of the baby is upon him. Eddie feels a little dizzy at the thought, which is probably not great since he’s going about twenty miles over the speed limit on the way to the hospital. 
The truck is barely in park as Eddie hops out of it and jogs over to the hospital doors. He asks the woman at the front desk where the maternity ward is, and he keeps mentally repeating the directions to himself so that he won’t forget them. 
A nurse tells Eddie that Brittany is in room 361 and points him in that direction. The only noise filling the sterile, white corridor is the occasional beeping of machinery from the different rooms, and the squeak of Eddie’s work boots on the shiny linoleum tiles. 
The first person that catches Eddie’s eye when he walks into room 361 is Sandy, Brittany’s sister. It takes everything inside of him to keep the disgusted noise he wants to make to himself. She’s not really his focus right now though, so Eddie forgoes a greeting to push past and get to his wife. Brittany is lying in the bed, a hospital gown on, and what seems like dozens of wires connected to her. 
“Hey,” Eddie says as he approaches the bed. “How are you—”
“Jesus Christ, Eddie,” Brittany gripes, looking him up and down. A nurse steps into the room, walking over to read some of the numbers on the machines Brittany is hooked up to, so his wife leans in and says through clenched teeth, “This is a hospital, and our baby is about to be born. Go home and clean up.”
Eddie’s tired and frazzled. He figured Brittany would want him by her side while she’s dealing with this initial pain. But her face clearly tells a different story. Eddie looks down at his coveralls and sees the oil smudges and grease handprints all over it. He should change, but he can’t bring himself to leave.
“Go home?” Eddie asks, voice small and confused. “By the time I get there, get cleaned up, then back here, it might be too late. Babe, what if I miss the birth?”
Brittany doesn’t seem too concerned with this, simply shrugging her shoulders and eyeing every little speck of dirt on the dark blue jumpsuit he’s wearing. 
The nurse who is inspecting the machines looks up at Eddie and gives him a smile. “It’s still going to be some time now before the baby is born,” she assures him. “How far do you live?”
“Uh, about ten minutes away,” if Eddie recalls correctly—which he thinks he does, there’s just a lot flying around his brain right now. 
“Oh, you should be fine, sweetheart,” the nurse says, waving a dismissive hand. “She’s still not fully dilated yet.”
As reluctant as he is to leave, the nurse’s words make the hesitancy lessen a little. 
“I’ll, uh, be back.” Eddie turns and heads out of the room. He follows the reverse directions that got him to the maternity ward, back to his car in the parking lot. With speed that any NASCAR driver would be jealous of, Eddie gets back to the house and jumps in the shower.
In total, Eddie was probably in the house for ten minutes. But to him it felt like eternity. He’s itching to be in that hospital room with his wife and zooms back down the way from where he just came.
When Eddie gets back up to the room, nothing has changed—except for his clothes and cleanliness. Brittany’s in the same position, same miserable expression on her face. But in what is a pleasant surprise, Sandy vacates the chair next to Britttany’s bed so he can sit at his wife’s side. Eddie gives his sister-in-law a nod of acknowledgment as he takes his seat. 
Eddie reaches for Brittany’s hand, and this time, she lets him touch her. He presses a few kisses to her knuckles before he gives her a small smile.
“How ya feeling?”
“Like I’m about to shit a bowling ball,” she responds, flopping her head back against her pillow. She does give Eddie a small smile in return though, which has him questioning how much pain medication they’ve already given her. 
“Did your water break?” Eddie asks.
Brittany nods and her eyes dart over to her sister. “Sandy came over to keep me company and went into the kitchen to get us something to drink, but as I went to sit down on the couch, I could just feel this trickle of water going down the leg of my pants.”
“I heard the pop and thought she knocked something over with her pumpkin of a belly again,” Sandy says from behind Eddie. 
“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Eddie says. No matter how much he may dislike Brittany’s family, he does have to give credit to Sandy for always being a good big sister to Brittany.
The nurse from before wasn’t kidding when she said that Eddie would be fine to come home and then come back. The next couple hours just turn into a waiting game. Each time a nurse comes in, the three in the room will perk up and hope there’s some news about when Brittany can start pushing. But so far, no dice. 
Eddie tries to talk with Brittany to keep her occupied and her mind off the pain. Anything that seems to come to his mind is deemed stupid by Brittany and she won’t carry a conversation. So, Eddie tries to get her to talk about things that she enjoys. 
“Do you still want to see that surfer movie that’s coming out soon? Hmm? The one with Patrick Swayze, who you love so much. Should I be jealous?” Eddie smirks, to show he’s just playing around with her, but Brittany couldn’t care less.
“Do you honestly think I’ll be able to go to a movie theater at all this month, Eddie? Really? I think I’ll be a little busy being up to my eyeballs in dirty diapers,” she snaps. 
Her constant putting-down of his attempts at conversations is wearing on Eddie. He clenches and unclenches his fist as he takes a deep breath. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through right now, he thinks to himself. Eddie nods to himself, as if he’s psyching himself up to take all of this in stride. 
Finally, one of the nurses’ visits pay off when she brings a doctor in who informs them that Brittany is fully dilated. Now, the staff scrambles to get necessary tools that are needed and set up near the foot of the hospital bed.
“They couldn’t have done this earlier?” Brittany grits out through her teeth, low enough for only Eddie to hear. 
“All right, Mrs. Munson,” the doctor says as he slips his hands into a new pair of latex gloves. “Are you ready to try pushing?”
“You’ve got this,” Sandy says. She walks over closer to the bed and Eddie can feel his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s grasping the bed rail. The nurse who told him that he had time to go home earlier is in the room now and must notice Eddie’s obvious distaste for Sandy. The nurse catches Eddie’s attention by walking into his peripheral vision. When he glances up at her, the nurse looks in Sandy’s direction, then back to Eddie. Her eyebrows raise and eyes widen, as if she’s asking, “You want this bitch gone?” Eddie gives a subtle nod of his head, and amongst the flurry to get the room ready, the nurse leans in so that Sandy and Brittany can hear.
“It looks like we’re going to try pushing now,” the nurse says, a sweet professional smile on her face. “Which means we can only have the father in the room.”
Part of Eddie knows he should feel bad. But he’s paying for this room, and he wants it to be just him and his wife welcoming this little bundle of joy to the world for the first time. 
Sandy presses a kiss to the top of Brittany’s already sweaty head, and even pats Eddie’s shoulder before heading out the door to find a waiting room to relax in. 
Eddie tentatively takes Brittany’s hand, unsure whether or not touching her is the right choice, breathing a sigh of relief when she accepts and squeezes the hell out of it. Maybe it’s to offset the pain—or to punish him for getting her pregnant in the first place—but he chooses to believe it’s because she sees him as a source of strength and support. 
“You’ve got this, Britt. You’re strong as hell, you can do this,” he cheers softly, tears already prickling in his eyes in anticipation of meeting his child. “Come on, baby. Just a little bit more to go.”
Thirty minutes and nearly one broken hand later, shrill little cries fill the room. It’s the most beautiful music Eddie’s ever heard.  
He cries as the doctor announces that Baby Munson is a healthy little boy, handing Eddie the clamp to cut the umbilical cord. His son—his son!—is still covered in blood and vernix, but he’s still absolutely perfect. 
While the nurses take the newborn to clean him up and wrap him in a blanket, Eddie takes the opportunity to give his wife a kiss on her perspiration-soaked forehead. “I’m so proud of you. You did so, so well. And…and now we have a son.”
Brittany is exhausted, making her a bit more mellow, and she hums her approval. She moves her head to kiss Eddie, eyes starting to flutter closed from exhaustion.  
Once the baby is all bundled up, the nurse hands him to Brittany, maternal instincts kicking in as she awakens to hold him. Eddie watches in complete awe, unable to comprehend that this baby is his son. A little being that’s half him. 
When Brittany hands the baby to Eddie, he holds him close and starts crying again, this time through a beaming smile. The way his tiny body fits perfectly in the crook of his arms sends a surge of overwhelming joy through Eddie’s veins. He instantly knows that being a dad is the best thing that’s ever happened to him and is the best thing that ever will happen to him. 
He brushes his forefinger against the baby’s knuckles, comically small compared to his own. “Hi there. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m your daddy.”
“Do Mom and Dad have a name picked out for this little guy?” The nurse asks with a grin. 
Eddie nods; they had already decided on Ryan for a boy or Riley for a girl. 
“Ryan Wayne Munson,” he announces proudly. He’d always planned to honor the man who had raised him, even if it meant arguing with Brittany, who had claimed the name was “too old-fashioned.” Eddie rarely put his foot down with his wife, but this was a matter he’d insisted upon. 
Two hours later, between constant check-ins and breastfeeding demonstrations, Brittany is able to sleep. Eddie sits in the corner of the room, just holding Ryan. He stares down incredulously at the baby in his arms, unable to take his eyes off of him.  
Softly, Eddie begins to speak to his son. “I promise you that I will be the best dad I can be for you. I won’t be perfect, but I will do my best.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. 
“It’s amazing how I’ve loved you since the moment I knew about you. And now you’re here, in my arms. God, I love you so much more than you will ever know. My little Ryan.”
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240 notes · View notes
oathkeeperoxas · 1 month
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wip wednesday
getting back into the groove of more icemav now that I'm back from my holiday 😤 anyway here's some icemav skinny dipping together 💖
“Mav,” Ice says, mouth dry.
“It’s a dark night,” Mav says, tilting his head up. “Moon’s not out yet. No one’s going to see.”
It’s true; Ice can barely see Mav, and he’s fifteen paces away and looking for him. His body is a study in shadows, and Mav turns so that Ice can see all of him that’s possible in this light, before he retrieves the bottle of vodka and takes a gulp of it.
“Mav,” Ice says again as he reaches him. Mav holds the bottle out; Ice takes it and has a swig for solidarity.
“You’re wearing your swimmers,” Mav says. “You don’t need to strip. If you don’t want to.”
The water is calm, washing up on the shore slowly. The sand continues here until the water is deep enough that you can’t stand up in it, and Mav wades out fearlessly, unstoppable. Ice takes another drink from the bottle to steady himself, and then follows Mav down to the water, leaving his clothes in a pile next to Mav’s.
It’s cold; he wades up to his knees and then watches Mav fucking around in the water as the waves soak his skin. Mav’s just behind where the waves start rolling in – if he can even call them waves. You’d never surf at this beach – and is splashing, then floating, looking up at the stars. Ice keeps his eyes fixed on him. All of this could almost be routine, except for the fact that he’s here.
Mav rights himself and then comes back to Ice, dripping water. He’s serious, unsmiling, as Ice folds him into his arms despite being wet and cold. Ice isn’t wearing anything; it’s fine.
“Good to be home,” Mav says quietly into his chest. “Good to see Carole and Slider and the kid.”
“And me?” Ice asks, loneliness rising to snap at him.
“And you,” Mav agrees. He slides his arms up around Ice’s neck. Ice leans down to kiss him, and Mav moves their lips against each other slowly, their bodies warming each other where they touch. Mav’s lips are cold. Ice resolves to do something about that.
“How are you?” Ice asks, desperately. “I mean it, Mav.”
Mav sighs. “Happy to be home,” he says again. “It was fine, Ice. I mean, it fucking sucked, but I’m fine. I promise. It didn’t fuck me up. Not like–”
He buries his head in Ice’s shoulder. Ice grips him close, not needing him to finish the sentence.
“And you didn’t get hurt?” Ice asks. 
“No. Worst thing was a bellyache from all their crap food,” Mav says.
Ice swallows. “I want you to tell me all about it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mav says, looking resigned. “Not tonight though, yeah?”
“Not tonight,” Ice says. “When you want to.”
“Never, then.”
“Mav…”
Mav huffs. “Okay. Next week or something then, at least.”
“Okay,” Ice agrees. That’s an easy promise to accept.
Mav tugs him out deeper into the water. Ice takes a step and then resists going any further.
“It’s cold, Mav,” he says. 
“I want to go swimming with you,” Mav says. “You know how many times I thought about that?”
And, well. He can’t say no to that.
Ice lets Mav tug him out deeper, until they’re both swimming in the dark. He can feel the warmth of the vodka in his stomach, but it’s hardly enough. He tries for a bit to do some serious swimming just to warm himself up, and finds Mav cutting through the water, chasing after him. They go back and forth for a while, sticking close to the house and not too far from the shore, until Ice gets tired and goes back in until he can stand again in the water. Mav follows without protest, and clings to Ice when he stops.
“We can’t go a little further in?” he complains.
Ice laughs. “Too deep for you?”
“I’m not that much shorter than you are,” Mav groans, but then stops when Ice gathers him in his arms and kisses him. If it weren’t so cold, being pressed naked against Mav would have been the end of him; as it is, he’s clutching Mav close, slotting their mouths together, feeling the imprint of his body where they touch.
“Mav,” Ice whispers, and now it’s Mav groaning against his mouth. 
“Okay, out, out.” 
Ice attempts to shake the sand off, but his efforts are rendered useless when Mav drags him down next to their clothes and the vodka. Ice sighs as they’re both covered, but Mav is laying down and pulling Ice down on top of him, so he stops thinking about that. They’re wet and cold and sandy, and Mav takes another long pull from the bottle, offers it to Ice. Ice is used to drinking vodka straight, but Mav has never really liked it.
“Got a taste for this while you were gone?” he asks, not bothering to cap the bottle again. More interested in licking Mav’s salt covered skin.
“Yeah,” Mav grunts, running his hands up Ice’s back. “Tastes like you.”
Ice has to kiss him again. They’re in their mid thirties, tipsy, naked on the beach, and he doesn’t care. Mav offers him more alcohol between kisses that are turning hot. Ice is warmed up again, even in the cool night, and his legs are splayed wide over Mav’s hips. He can’t hide what he wants, and he doesn’t want to.
“Mav,” Ice grunts. “Mav, let’s go inside.”
Mav laughs. “Still want a bed, Kazansky?”
“I’m not twenty,” he groans as Mav fondles his ass, squeezing firmly to bring them close together, grinding up against each other. “And there’s sand. Everywhere.”
“It’s a bit rough,” Mav agrees. “Okay, okay.”
He takes the bottle, and Ice gathers up their clothes. There’s a bathroom downstairs next to the laundry, put there for occasions exactly like this; coming into the house after swimming in the ocean. Ice puts their clothes in a hamper, Mav abandons the vodka on top of the washing machine, and they go into the shower together.
God, there really is sand everywhere – Ice scrubs it out of every crevice, washing his hair, soaping up a few times for good measure, and yet he’s still sure he’s missed some. It’s better than it was. Mav is utilitarian, gets out first which allows Ice the space to pick sand out from between his toes. Okay. Ice dries himself off in a hurry, but Mav is already gone, headed upstairs, hasn’t put any clothes on. Okay.
Ice follows him, heart in his throat, naked and warm and willing. Mav is standing by the window in their bedroom, looking out over the ocean as the moon starts to rise on the horizon. Ice can only see half his face, and even then it’s cast in shadows. He goes to turn the bedside lamp on, only for Mav to softly whisper, “Don’t.”
“Why?” Ice asks.
“Let’s just hold each other. I want to feel you.”
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namelessennes · 10 months
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ATTENTION!
WASH YOUR WATER BOTTLE WEDNESDAY!!
if you haven't washed you water bottle in a while, today is a good day to do so!
thank you that is all
15 notes · View notes
lambtotheslaughterr · 8 months
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When The Bough Breaks : Part One
A Rafe Cameron Mini Series
[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]
WC: 4.7k
Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics
MASTERLIST | PART TWO
SUMMARY: Reader is a content housewife to her wealthy husband who she somewhat loves. After a tragedy shakes both their lives, reader & her husband move to the island of Kildare to start over, but an all too interested young man next door will make their new home anything but pleasant…
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            The mornings weren’t any easier just because your husband decided to move the two of you to the North Carolina coast. You still woke up late in the morning, your head foggy from the previous nights’ cocktail of wine & anti-depressant. You of all people knew better than to mix your medication with alcohol, especially with your husband being a pain management physician, but even he couldn’t take away the pain you felt in the deepest darkest parts of your heart.
Moses McFarlane, your husband, meant well. He was suffering as much as you were, but you two never spoke about it. The loss forced you into a constant zombie-like state, & it forced your husband to spend more time at work. But with the recent move to another environment, one that was warmer & prettier, your husband was home more often. Back in the city he was working 60+ hours a week, five days a week. Now, having lived on the island of Kildare for less than a month, he worked at a smaller hospital an hour & a half inland. So he was only working three days a week now, staying in a small apartment inland so he didn’t have to commute every day.
The three days he was gone never made much a difference to you. Even during the days he was home he was still absent. He was always nearby, but never close. You knew he wanted to support you as best as he could, it’s why he followed the advice of the counselor & moved you to somewhere with more sun. But he struggled with wanting to talk about it. You refused to talk about it. There was no point in it.
On this particular morning, it was 10:30 when you finally rolled out of bed. The house you two moved into was impressively large for a beach home. Three stories, six bedrooms, direct beach access. A year ago you would’ve loved the home, excited to fill it with family & happy memories. But it was just you in it. And sometimes your husband. You had never felt more alone.
You freshened up in the bathroom, splashing your face with water. The reflection in the mirror looked nothing like the vibrant woman from a year ago. Your skin was ashen, splotchy from the regular amounts of wine consumed. Your hair was dry, the ends splitting. The skin under your eyes was baggy & gray. Your mouth tasted bad. Lazily, you leaned against the counter with your back to the mirror, brushing your teeth.
It was Wednesday. Moses left for his three day long stay inland Monday evening. He wouldn’t be back until Friday morning. When you left the bedroom, you noted his side of the bed was unslept in. It normally was. You often found him having fallen asleep on a lounger in the screened in sunroom off the kitchen. Though you saw how much he still loved you, you often wondered if he blamed you.
Shaking the thoughts from your head, you emerged from the master bedroom on the top floor, trudging down the hallway. The rest of the third floor was a living room, dining room, & kitchen. Entering the kitchen, you noticed an empty liter & a half bottle of wine stood in the kitchen sink, a wine glass next to it. The bad taste returned to your mouth.
Tossing the bottle in a nearby recycling bin & the glass in the dishwasher, you started a pot of coffee. As your coffee brewed, you reached into a cabinet on the left side of the sink. You pulled out over-the-counter painkillers to kill the growing headache. Washing two of them down with a glass of water, you rinsed the glass, staring mindlessly through the window.
It was another beautiful day out, as typical with North Carolina weather you realized. You contemplated if you would finally go out & enjoy it. The hiss of your coffee pot interrupted your thoughts.
Pouring yourself a mug, you sat at the counter on one of the stools, allowing yourself to be enveloped by the silence of the house. It was too early to take your medication. Though you recklessly mixed your medication with alcohol, you didn’t want to abuse it further by taking too much. That’s what the wine was for. And that was usually in the evening when you needed to sleep. But it was day time. You needed to find something to distract yourself. Or else his laughter would begin echoing through the empty home.
Inhaling sharply, you grabbed your mug & went out onto the back patio that overlooked a spacious yard with a pool, the beach only a couple yards from the edge of your property. Other homes were nearby but not enough for you to feel part of a neighborhood. Sitting at the patio table, you recalled how you were once a social butterfly.
In the first years of your relationship with Moses, you two were very sociable. Though Moses was 20 years your senior, he still enjoyed hosting dinners with friends, taking small cruises along the Eastern Coast, & even attending his charity fundraisers. You two were a well-known & popular couple amongst your friends & colleagues. A small smile appeared on your face at the memory of your wedding & how wild it had gotten.
You had never imagined yourself getting married, let alone being in a long-term relationship. After all, you were 30 when your friend had set you up on a blind date with Moses. She had informed you that he was 51 & a doctor, recently divorced & looking for something casual & low maintenance. So, you were a shoe-in. Relationships had never been of great interest or importance to you. You were much too busy juggling your myriad of jobs. If a job couldn’t tie you down, a man surely never could.
But something about Moses kept you coming back for more. He had said the same about you. Your chemistry with one another was magnetic. He was handsome for his age; his hair dark with graying on the sides, his five-o-clock shadow was salt & pepper, but over the years it had become more salt. He had these soft, gentle dark blue eyes that paired well with his tanned skin. Honestly, you couldn’t believe that he was even in his 50s. And as you two spent the next seven years together, he only grew to be more handsome.
The memory of your love for one another made your stomach whirl with anxiety. Swallowing down the anxious feelings, you finished off your mug of coffee. You needed to get out of the house. After you placed the mug in the sink to be cleaned you later, you walked around the kitchen, writing down a list for groceries. Moses had groceries delivered when the two of you lived in the city but had yet to set an alternative up here. You didn’t mind though. It gave you something to do, somewhere to go.
Getting dressed for the day in your bedroom, you reluctantly decided to pop some make-up onto your face, liven it up a bit. From what little you knew about Kildare, it was one of those places where everyone knew everyone, & with it being your first appearance out in the world since moving to the island, you didn’t want the gossip to be about how wretched you looked. You imagined they were already discussing how you were an alcoholic, medicated recluse anyway.
Taking one final look in the mirror, you frowned at your middle. You had gained twenty or so pounds. The silk tank top you wore thankfully hid it enough, but you knew, you saw plenty. Disgusted with who you saw in the mirror, no matter what they wore or how much make-up they used to hide, you saw right through her. And she made you sick.
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A grocery store on a tiny island was nothing like a grocery store in the city. There was no underground parking or two-three story level buildings that held everything a household could possibly need. On Kildare, the grocery store consisted of a small market & deli, along with a handful of produce stalls along a boardwalk.
You wore your shades under the sun, but did enjoy the feel of the rays against your skin as you meandered up to a vegetable stall. An older man stood behind it, taking animatedly on the phone. He nodded towards you in acknowledgment but carried on with his conversation. As you fingered & gripped tomatoes, looking for the ripest ones, you subtly observed your surroundings. There were not a ton of people out this morning, but considering it was the middle of the week it was no surprise. However, you were aware of a few stares from passerby’s as they shopped amongst themselves. No one approached you though, for that you were thankful.
You handed three tomatoes to the man to bag. He did as much then placed them on a scale, writing down on a piece of paper the weight then did some math, all while still on the phone deep in conversation. You were mildly impressed by the old school standards of the island thus far. He returned the bag to you, trading it with your card. He swiped it then gave it back. You went on your merry way.
The market & deli was closest to where you parked. You wanted to walk along the boardwalk, taking your time getting back to avoid returning to that large, empty house that was now your home. You placed the bag of tomatoes in the trunk of your car, knowing they wouldn’t be in there for long while you shopped inside really quick. You were just opening the door to the royal blue building when a woman around your age was coming out of it.
Her eyes met your own through the sunglasses you wore. Then a warm pearly white smile appeared across her lips.
“Mrs. McFarlane!” The woman greeted, stepping off to the side so she wasn’t blocking the entrance to the building. You felt your lips part in confused discomfort. You didn’t know this woman…
“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She offered her hand, a black leather Prada handbag dangling from the crevice of her curved elbow. Forcing down your blatant awkwardness, you gripped her hand weakly, shaking it once.
“Oh, you as well.” You muttered behind an unsure smile.
“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to pretend to know who I am.” Her smile grew brighter, you were grateful to be wearing shades otherwise you might’ve gone blind.
“My name is Rose Cameron. I’m a realtor in Kildare. Your husband worked with my colleague Jack Shaeffer. He sold you the house on Three Weathers Lane.”
“Oh.” The name didn’t sound at all familiar. It was your husband who worked directly with the realtor, “Of course, yes.” You lied, the conversation quickly draining you. It was hard to believe that you spent your whole life thriving from conversations like so.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Jack had a lot of great things to say about your husband. We’re lucky to have another doctor on the island.”
“Barely.” You responded without a filter. Rose’s perfectly plucked eyebrows frowned slightly. You rebutted, “I mean, he works inland three days a week, so he’s not really a doctor for Kildare.”
“I see.” Rose scrunched her nose cutely, “Well, still. It’s nice to meet you. I imagine we’ll be seeing each other often.”
Oh? The unspoken word must’ve been evident across your features. Rose laughed a light-hearted airy sound. You imagined if Kildare had a laugh to match it’s feel, it would be hers.
“We live down the road from you.” Rose informed, “My husband & I & his three children.”
“Oh, yes.” You started, “I imagine we’ll see each other enough.” You hadn’t intended for the comment to sound as unenthusiastic as it had but it couldn’t be helped. Rose’s wide smile had reduced to a close-lipped one at that point.
“I’ll get out of your way, then.” She shuffled to the side, her heels clacking proudly against the pavement as she began to walk away.
“And, Mrs. McFarlane, if you need anything, anything at all. Please don’t hesitate to give me a ring. Or to show up on our doorstep. Oh!” She approached you a second time, pulling out her phone, “Actually, while I have you. I would love to have you & your husband over for dinner. Since we’re going to be neighbors it would be nice for us all to get to know one another. This is Kildare, after all. Everyone looks out for everyone.”
Her final comment left you feeling unsettled. In a blur, you found yourself entering your number on her phone. She rang you once so you could log hers. After trading was completed, Rose grabbed your hand, “I’m so excited to get to know you, Mrs. McFarlane.”
You had actually kept your maiden name in your marriage to Moses, so hearing her call you by his last name was different. “Call me _____.” You told her, “I much prefer my name.”
“Of course.” She grinned, “I’ll call you soon to arrange dinner. Have a good day, _____.”
You barely uttered out a ‘you too’ before she strolled away.
You stood outside the market for a few moments in a daze, feeling as if you were recovering from whiplash in a car accident. When you left your house this morning, you certainly hadn’t expected to befriend—if you could call it that—a stranger & be invited to dinner in the same breath. You only hoped that she was the type to offer a gesture to be polite, not to actually follow through.
Putting the encounter behind you, you entered the market & carried on with your shopping. On the drive back home, you were relieved you didn’t meet any other Kildare residents that were kind enough to approach you. The social butterfly you used to be had long since flown away. Pulling into the driveway, you sat in the car peering up at the house. It wasn’t particularly your taste but you knew Moses was only trying what he thought would be best for you, for the both of you.
The bright blue three story beach-house was the exact opposite of your 18th floor condo in the city. You had to admit that the fresh air that North Carolina offered was nice, as well as the view from every single window in your new home. You allowed yourself to smile up at the house, even if it fell a few seconds later.
Once all the groceries were put away, you noted that it was only 3 in the afternoon. You found it hard to believe that four hours had passed so quickly. But you knew it was a side effect of the medication. It made you sigh internally as you recalled the ridiculous amount of time you spent in an aisle at a time for 15 minutes, having trouble deciding between two different pasta sauce brands simply because you couldn’t focus your mind. You considered telling your doctor about it, but decided against it.
In the butler’s kitchen near the dining room, you pulled out a bottle of red by the neck. It was earlier than typical for you to begin drinking, but the abrupt meeting with your overly friendly neighbor had pushed you to seek comfort inside a bottle.
Kicking off your heels by the backdoor, you threw an accent blanket over your shoulder & went into the sunroom off the kitchen. Moses slept out here often so you wanted to see why he preferred this over the comfort & warmth of your bed, though you knew it likely had nothing to do with the bed. Settling into a lounger, you corked open the bottle & poured yourself a glass. You rested against the back of the lounger, taking a sip of the wine. The light flavors of rose & cherry coated your tongue deliciously. The sounds of the ocean calmed your nerves. You set an alarm on your phone for 4’o’clock to take your medication in case you fell asleep.
Taking another sip of wine, you pulled the blanket up to your shoulders, tucking your bare feet under yourself. Fluttering your eyes closed, you fought back the images of a two year old smiling at you. A tear escaped. And then sleep came for you, just in time to take the pain away.
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“Sarah!”
A man’s voice in the distance woke you. You groaned, opening your eyes slowly. Your body ached in protest with your sluggish movement. The first thing you noted was that it was completely dark out. Your head was pounding. On the side table to your right, the bottle of wine had been half drunk. You frowned. You didn’t remember drinking it that much. Further, your phone was lit up with notifications.
Picking it up, you had 3 missed calls & 2 text messages. All from Moses. You would call him in the morning. It was too late now. The time on your phone read 9:00 p.m. You shot forward at the realization. Hissing to yourself, you clumsily moved inside to the kitchen where your pills were kept in a cabinet by the fridge. You had slept right through your alarm. It wasn’t too detrimental to be late on taking your medication but you tried to be regular with it. A morbid part of you laughed internally at your attempt to be ‘good’ with the medication. The bottle of red, & the many others in the recycling bin would argue otherwise.
Swallowing the chalky pink pill dry, you winced past the taste. The wine would chase away the taste. Returning to the sunroom, you finished off what was left in your glass, about ready to pour yourself another one before going up to bed when a man yelled again. This time closer.
“Sarah! Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” He sounded angry, beyond angry.
The patio lights were off so you wouldn’t be seen when you stepped out onto the patio from the sunroom.
“Leave me alone, Rafe. You’re a mess.” A woman’s voice sounded next.
It took you a moment to find the pair, not used to the landscape outside your house just yet. In the dark, just at the edge of your property line, you could make out a young man & woman as they faced each other.
Whatever they were saying now you were unable to hear since they weren’t shouting. But you watched on, curious. From what you could see, the man appeared upset, talking fast & animatedly as he got in the woman’s face. She had her arms crossed in front of her, shaking her head, but she wasn’t submitting to him. You took another sip of your wine, watching them as if they were a trash reality show on the TV.
But then it escalated. Badly.
The woman, who you noted couldn’t be yet in her 20’s, turned her back on the man. Swiftly, he spun her around & slapped her.
“Fuck off, Rafe!” She screamed at him, ripping her arm out of his grip & taking off across your backyard. The man looked as if he was about to follow when you yelled out.
“Hey! Get outta here before I call the cops!” You hollered. The young man paused in his steps to glare up in your direction, but you knew he likely had a hard time even making you out against the darkness of your unlit house.
“I’m serious, kid. I’m calling them right now.” He lowered his eyes, glaring in the direction the woman had taken off in before turning on his heel & stomping off in the opposite direction. Leaving your wine on the patio, you went inside, speed-walking to the stairs. When you got to the second floor, you opened your front door, hoping you’d see where the girl disappeared to if she indeed went to the front side of your home.
Sure enough, you saw her sitting at the end of your driveway, a phone in her hand.
Grabbing a cardigan in the nearby closet, you stepped out, calling out her.
“Are you okay?”
The tanned blonde spun around, her eyes narrowing in your direction.
“Do you need me to call the cops?”
When she finally spotted you, she began walking towards you. You descended the stairs to the ground level, meeting her at the bottom. Once you saw her up close, your heart hurt for her. She absolutely couldn’t be any older than 20, she still looked like she could be in high school.
“No, I’m okay, thank you, though.”
You frowned, “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t know that asshole was but any man who puts his hand on a woman deserves a night in jail.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled in agreement, “Unfortunately he wouldn’t even make it to the backseat of the police car.”
When she saw the look of confusion on your face she continued, “My dad wouldn’t let a cuff touch his skin.”
“Your dad?”
“Yeah,” she nodded, leaning against the railing to your stairs, “that was my darling brother who slapped me.”
Your stomach flipped at her information. A father that allows his son to hit his sister? You presumed that it wasn’t a man at all who raised these kids.
“I’m sorry.” You said, “Would you like to come inside? I can order you an Uber or if you have someone coming to get you…”
“That’s okay.” She shrugged, but smiled weakly nonetheless, “I live down the road a ways. I was just gonna walk back after he cooled off.”
You nodded, not entirely liking the idea that this young girl you had just met would have to return to a home where her own brother feels hitting her is okay.
“Well, come in anyway. No point in standing out here.”
She hesitated for a moment but nodded, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Once inside, you led her up the stairs & to the kitchen. Your bottle of anti-depressants sat on the counter. Before she could spot them, you swiped them quickly & deposited them in the closest drawer.
“Are you hungry at all? Thirsty?” You offered, knowing damn well that you really didn’t have any prepared to eat despite having gone grocery shopping.
She shook her head, admiring the interior of your home, “I’ve always wondered what it looked like inside here.” She commented, “The last owners were an old couple who let their family stay here throughout the years. None of them were half as nice as you.”
You chuckled lightly at that, “I wouldn’t say I’m much nice either.”
“Sure, you are.” She returned, “You’re letting a random girl into your house in the middle of night from right off the street.”
You pondered this, nodding in agreement, “You are right. I wouldn’t have done that in the city.”
“Thank you, though. I do appreciate it.” She grinned at you, “I’m Sarah, by the way.”
“_____.” You shared.
Sarah slid into a stool at the counter, drumming her fingers on the granite.
“So,” you started, “your brother hits you & your dad doesn’t care.”
Her eyes widened, “Oh, I wouldn’t say he doesn’t care. Not at all. If he knew Rafe has hit me before he’d hit him back harder. He just wouldn’t let Rafe go to jail for it. For his own good.”
“Your brothers own good?” You questioned, not understanding the logic.
“No, my dad’s own good.” She corrected.
“Oh.” You felt your face fall. You had met plenty of people like that back in the city. Who cared more about the reputation with their name then the well-being of their kids & loved ones. It didn’t surprise you though that such people existed on an exquisite & upper class island.
“Yeah.” Sarah pursed her lips, “Anyway, how do you like Kildare so far?”
It was your turn to shrug, “I haven’t explored it much. Today was the first time I left the house, to be honest.”
“That’s fair. I’ve lived here my whole life & I can assure you that it’s not nearly as impeccable as people make it out to be. You’re probably better off staying at home like you have been.”
“How old are you?” You asked.
“18.”
“Oh, wow.” You furrowed your brows, “At least you’re old enough now to leave your home. Get away from your prick brother.”
“Ha, yeah.” She nodded but it was solemn, “If he or my dad would ever let me. That’s what he was chasing me down about.”
“Because you want to leave?”
“Kind of.” She shook her head, “There’s this guy I’ve been seeing, & he comes from the other side of the island. My dad wouldn’t like it if he found that out but my brother knows already & he’s always barking at me to dump him.”
“Gross.” You commented, “It’s the 21st century. The men in your family don’t control who you date.”
Sarah smiled at that, “You should tell em as much.”
“What’s your address? I’ll do it now.” You joked. Sarah giggled but soon the smile disappeared, “I’ll get out. One day. Hopefully sooner than later.”
“If you need anything,” you began, recalling Rose Cameron’s offer earlier in the day, “You can always come here. My husband is gone during the week so it’s just me here. I won’t shut you out if you need a place to escape to.”
Sarah’s brown eyes sparkled at that, “Really? I mean, I don’t wanna bother you. I’d give anything to be alone.”
You sighed heavily, “I think being alone is probably the last thing I need these days.”
You & Sarah traded smiles, “Okay. I might take you up on that. Especially if Rafe is being a dick again.”
“Especially.” You enunciated.
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An hour later, Sarah went home. You had offered one of the many guest bedrooms but she insisted on going home, that if she didn’t then her brother & his cronies would scour the entire island for her & the first place they’d look is her boyfriend’s. You waved her off from the patio as she parted through your backyard where you first saw her. Once she was out of sight, you gathered the half empty wine bottle & glass of wine, going into the kitchen. Without a thought in mind, you emptied the remnants of wine in the glass into the sink, re-corking the wine & putting it back on a shelf in the butler’s kitchen.
Speaking with Sarah for an hour had made you feel really good. More so, it made you forget about your grief. Sarah had clued you in on all the Kildare island need-to-know. The most important being that there were two classes of people on the island: kooks & pogues, the latter of which Sarah’s boyfriend was, which is why her brother & dad wouldn’t approve of the relationship. They were proud kooks, as she said.
Listening to her talk about her life & all that she & her friends get up to made you smile for the first time in a long time. You listened intently, paralleling your own teenage experiences with her own. Even the memory of being a teenager felt like it was hundreds of years ago. Sarah had been sweet enough though to escape you for much younger than you were. She was shocked to discover you were 37, commenting that she wouldn’t have guessed anywhere north of 30. For that you were relieved, feeling much better about yourself than you had in the last year.
Turning off the lights in your house, you crossed the third floor to your bedroom. Undressing, you slipped into one of Moses’ old college sweaters before climbing into bed. It would be the first night since moving here that you didn’t depend on wine to fall asleep. Sarah & her youth had made you forget all about your pain.
You would allow yourself this one night to feel painless, knowing well-enough that the pain would undoubtedly return in the morning.
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First part to my new Rafe Cameron series! I am so so excited to begin this new venture. I already know every detail about this story & can't wait to share it with you guys. Rafe will make an appearance in the next part so be sure to follow me or ask to be on the taglist for this series, or Rafe in general, to not miss it.
In the meantime, share your thoughts with me! Any & all feedback in the form of a reblog with tags, a thoughtful comment, or dropping an ask are huge motivators to post sooner. I really would love to hear your thoughts so far. So, let me know!
Thanks for reading.
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disability-can-be · 2 months
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Hey!
It's Wednesday! Wash your water bottle!
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