#xmxisxforxmaybe

[freebooter4ever]

XMXISXFORXMAYBE????? ON MY DASH? IN 2023????? :D I'm super glad you are well my old friend

MISS YOU

You are SUCH a treasure . . . I adore you! I hope you are doing well.

[s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r]

S w e a t e r ! E l l i o t

[freebooter4ever]

90's (grunge surf cabin in the woods during winter?) aesthetic for @xmxisxforxmaybe : Not exactly representative of your blog, but rather a place that might be nice for you to escape to for a while. Mythical though, because it must somehow be simultaneously on a beach with hot sand, yet in a forest, with cold weather in order to make the inside home cozy ^_^. For some reason I associate your blog most strongly with Elliot, so I put parts of 90/80's NYC in, plus some quirky rustic imagery, plus some things that feel delicate but strange. Also I swear I didn't deface that wood, I just took a photo bc I thought it was funny! Including it because for those not in the know, that particular texture and smell of weathered wood damp from the rain with light moss is one of the most soothing things in the world.

[hexiva]

Oh, PLEASE do the five songs for Elliot + Leon 🖤

I got this one covered!

Let’s Talk About Spaceships, by Say Hi (just them. chatting. and Elliot zoning the fuck out.)

And what's that saying again They're only words And words can't kill me Well I can't even spell them And the cadence Of what she says is swell

Let's talk about spaceships Or anything except you and me, okay? Let's talk about spaceships Or anything except you and me, okay? Okay...

Man on the Moon,  by Kid Cudi (not so much a song that fits their relationship as a song that fits both of them as people, their sense of being ‘outsiders’)

I never gave a fuck I never a fuck about what -----s thought about me I mean I did but like fuck it you know'm sayin You gon' love me man You gon' love me man

But my mind is all crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy They got me thinkin I ain't human, Like I came in from above, above, above, above Feelin like a airplane in the sky But then they say I'm crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy They got me thinkin I ain't human, Like I came in from above, above, above, above Feelin' like a bird sittin' high high

Heathens, by Twenty-One Pilots (another song for the two of them bonding over being outsiders, plus Elliot’s paranoia and trauma, plus Leon’s moral ambiguity and how that relates to Elliot being a very moral person)

We don't deal with outsiders very well They say newcomers have a certain smell Yeah, trust issues, not to mention They say they can smell your intentions

You're lovin' on the psychopath sitting next to you You're lovin' on the murderer sitting next to you You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?" But after all I've said, please don't forget

All my friends are heathens, take it slow Wait for them to ask you who you know Please don't make any sudden moves You don't know the half of the abuse

Young Folks, by Peter Bjorn and John (Leon doubting whether Elliot would still like him if he knew everything he’s done, plus the two of them just. chilling)

If I told you things I did before Told you how I used to be Would you go along with someone like me? If you knew my story word for word Had all of my history Would you go along with someone like me?

I did before and had my share It didn't lead nowhere I would go along with someone like you It doesn't matter what you did Who you were hanging with We could stick around and see this night through And we don't care about the young folk Talkin' 'bout the young style And we don't care about the old folks Talkin' 'bout the old style too And we don't care about their own faults Talkin' 'bout our own style All we care 'bout is talking Talking only me and you

All the Way Down, by Kelela (Elliot’s anxiety getting the best of him, even while being with Leon makes him feel safe)

So comfortable when I'm with you Kinda took me by surprise I love it and I don't know why You shot it and you got it And I don't wanna fight it So hold me while we’re taking this ride

You, when it's good I'm questioning You, then I stop to take it in Is my head in the way? Cause my heart can't explain Where we going now?

[izzy-b-hands]

Sledgefu: A quiet, cozy night in with the cats. Maybe Snafu is feeling a little insecure bc Gene’s spending a lot of time with new friends at school? He feels a little left out bc Gene is always talking about them, but Gene doesn’t realize it until he really slows down and really listens to/looks at Snaf while they’re snugged up on the couch. If you want to 💞💞💞

Ooh yes I love it!! Thank you for sending this in!!!

Also, ended up putting together a playlist of what I listened to as I wrote this, so if folks are wanting some extra atmosphere as they read, here it is: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2z3p8nXomzQRkWjvY3PK5a?si=uK7XQngWTtOg7UlG5dUm_A 

Gold Still Glitters is below the cut!

He knew Eugene wouldn’t make dinner, he hadn’t for the past couple of weeks. Busy at the university library, studying away with a few classmates he’d gotten to know better as the semester had gone on. He’d even met a few of them now, Ted and Michael and a particularly intimidating man who, despite having the highest grades out of any of Eugene’s friends, insisted on going by his nickname of Flea. It was given to him in the Army, and was actually short for Flea-Brain, but Eugene had talked him into using just Flea. Good-hearted boy couldn’t bear to call a new friend something like that is what it was, and it made Snafu’s heart swell. That was his man, being so sweet!

But his heart hurt as he sat at the table alone, set for two on accident. It was simply his habit now, and he hadn’t even realized he’d done it until he sat down to the gumbo he’d made. 

Delilah hopped up onto the extra seat, her little nose delicately touching the bowl meant for Eugene, and that broke him. 

“This is stupid,” he scolded himself as the tears rolled. He wiped them away in between spoonfuls of his dinner. “Isn’t it, Delilah? I should be happy your papa is out there makin’ new friends. It’s a good thing.” 

She meowed softly, and he gave up on the food. That felt equally silly, putting it all away right away after he’d worked most of the day to make it, but his appetite was gone. 

Better was sitting in the bedroom with Delilah on his lap, the other cats scattered on the bed and Ack Ack with his soft nose batting at the hand Snafu let drop down to where the dog was sat on the floor. The radio played, and seemed desperate to drag him down even as he tried to clamber back up, as they rotated through love song after love song, mixed with more melancholy hits. If not for the cat sleeping on him, he’d have turned it off. 

Despite the whirring wheels of his mind, he found himself drifting off when the front door suddenly slammed. 

“Snaf? Sorry I’m so late!” 

Eugene’s voice echoed down the halls, but Snafu couldn’t bear to answer it. 

“Snafu? You here?” 

Delilah woke and looked at him, as if asking why he wasn’t responding, but he didn’t make a sound.

“Merriell?” 

He listened as Eugene’s footsteps came up the stairs, then to the bedroom. 

“Thought I heard music,” Eugene said as he opened the door. “What happened?” 

Snafu shook his head. He loved Eugene, but as wonderful as it was to see him, he wanted nothing more than to be alone until he got over his feelings, the stupid frustration that told him to call Eugene on it, on getting home so late and missing dinners, on only having time for homework and friends but little for his husband. But Eugene hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wouldn’t be fair to yell and shout and fuss at him for doing what every other student was doing, trying to learn and work and live and balance it all. 

“You’re crying,” Eugene said softly, and strode over to the bed, carefully moving the cats in way of his sitting next to Snafu. “Something happened. Tell me; I’m here to listen.” 

Delilah purred as he lifted her to his shoulder and buried his face in her fur, hoping to hide the next burst of tears. 

“Okay. I don’t know what this is about, and I want you to tell me, at some point. But if you aren’t ready yet, that’s okay. Tomorrow’s Saturday though, and I’ve got nowhere to be. No extra classwork, no study sessions, no extra hours at work. Thought maybe that would mean we could stay up a little together. Do some reading, or just sit and relax, whatever you might want. If you want,” Eugene said, gentle as anything, and it made the tears fall even harder. 

“I gotta borrow your dad, Delilah,” Eugene continued as Snafu set her down beside him, and she meowed at the loss of lap. “Y’all come on down and join us if you want, okay?” 

A few meows and a tiny woof from Ack Ack answered him as he turned off the radio, then led Snafu downstairs, and Snafu knew they’d probably stay put. It was late now, nearly eleven at night, and the pets had their routine they didn’t like to deviate from, especially for bed time. It would also mean they wouldn’t get their bed back for the night as the cats would take it over, but there was always the guest bedroom. 

“How was your day?” Eugene practically chirped, as cheerful as the birds he loved watching, though the bags under his eyes told a different story, or at least screamed a need for a decent night of sleep. 

“Okay.” 

“Just okay? You get a full day off of work and it’s just okay?” 

Snafu shrugged. “Made gumbo. Spent most of the day in the kitchen, ‘cept for headin’ out to the market for a few things.” 

Eugene stopped and stared at him as they reached the living room. “That’s all?” 

“I don’t know,” Snafu snapped in spite of himself. “I cooked, and I tried to clean some while the supper was simmering, and the damn back door knob was loose again so I fixed that, and I kept the cats and dog in their food and cuddles for the day, and cleaned up the litter boxes and Ack Ack’s corner of the backyard, and-” 

He sighed, exasperated. “I kept busy. I don’t know what you want me to say. I know I’m not nearly as busy as you get, but I tried to make my day off something useful.” 

Eugene took a deep breath, and Snafu braced himself. Eugene didn’t deserve that yelling, but he hadn’t been able to hold back, and he’d deserve whatever Eugene tossed back at him. 

Instead, Eugene took his hand and kissed it. “I meant, did you do anything for you? Read something you like, listen to a good record? Hell, just take a nap?” 

“Oh,” Snafu said, and shrugged. “No. I didn’t do any of that.” 

“Sounds like we got stuff to do tomorrow then, to catch you up on some relaxin’,” Eugene smiled. “Come on. Come lay on the couch and be lazy with me.” 

“It’s gonna be midnight before we know it,” Snafu said. “Not that I don’t want to, but you need to sleep-” 

“There some law against fallin’ asleep on the couch with my man?” 

Snafu grinned. “No, there isn’t.” 

“Well then, I say we’ve got a reservation over here,” Eugene tugged gently on his hand, pulling him till they both fell back on the couch together, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I missed you today.” 

The lump in his throat was back again, the tears threatening to fall again, his heart hurting again as they adjusted to lay more comfortably on the couch, and he tried to respond without his voice breaking. “Missed you too.” 

“You gonna talk to me now?” Eugene murmured as they snuggled close. “C’mon. You know I’m not gonna let you sit all melancholy like y’are right now. Out with it.” 

“…I shouldn’t be upset by it. Because it’s a good thing,” Snafu sighed. 

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere!” Eugene’s voice rumbled in his chest, pressed as close as they were, his back to Eugene’s chest, Eugene’s arm draped over him. “But maybe this good thing isn’t good for you?” 

“It’s good for someone I love, so it should be good for me too,” Snafu replied. “Because I love them, and I want good things for them.” 

“Well that’s…good,” Eugene said, then chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean whatever this is couldn’t still upset you somehow. Can’t help how things make you feel, sometimes.” 

“I know. But…” 

“You can tell me what it is, you know that,” Eugene whispered. 

“Alright. I…it’s been a little difficult. Without you home at night. Eatin’ dinners alone, goin’ to bed alone even some nights. And then when you do come home-” 

Snafu cut himself off with a sigh and resisted the urge to turn and bury his face into Eugene’s chest, and not say anymore. “When you do, as much as I love hearing about your new friends, and I do, I really do, I swear it, sometimes it feels like that’s all we talk about, and then it’ll be so late it’s already time for bed and then the sun rises and we do it all over again and I miss you.” 

He turned then, and focused on the beat of Eugene’s heart near his ear as he continued. “I’m proud of you in a way I can’t even put words to, because it just overwhelms me, you goin’ back to school and all. And I’m happy you’ve made friends, because you should! It’s good. But sometimes I miss that little bit of extra time we had, for just us. Even though I know that we’ll still find that time again, in one way or another, because things can’t stay the same forever, but gold still glitters even after you melt it down and make it into something new.” 

Eugene was silent, and Snafu fought the urge to break away from him and run upstairs, to avoid the storm that his words were surely going to bring. Granted, Eugene had never been that way with him, but other lovers had in the past, and he never wanted to make Eugene that sort of upset, but if anything would…perhaps this would.

“God, Flea was right. I always tell him how mad I am that he’s the smartest asshole outta all of us in the classroom, and now I gotta tell him he was right again, and he’s smartest about things like this too.” 

Snafu moved his face out of Eugene’s chest. “Things like this?” 

“He told me tonight, that he could tell last time we were all hangin’ out together that you seemed like you felt left out, and that he couldn’t believe that the man I described to them could be the same as the quiet and sad-lookin’ man I’d brought with me that day. And I figured maybe you were just tired or had a rough day at work and I didn’t ask…and I should have asked. I’m sorry, Snaf.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Snafu said as he carefully moved Eugene’s arm and sat up. “I’m bein’ a damn fool over this. I’m a grown man, actin’ like a child because I’m not gettin’ enough attention.” 

“No,” Eugene protested softly, and sat up so he was right beside him, their thighs touching and Eugene’s hand reaching for his. “You’re my husband, and you love me, and so you’ve been missin’ me and I didn’t notice, and that’s not right. I been watchin’ you go about your night after I get home, but I wasn’t paying any attention, and I should have been.” 

“I gotta do the same for you,” Snafu said.

“You have been! Who else would listen to me blabber on and complain about school, talk for hours about the dumb shit those boys at school tell me? You’ve been lookin’ right at me, keepin’ your eyes trained on me to keep me feeling happy and loved, and I looked back but I looked right through you,” Eugene replied. “No more of that. I promise.” 

The tears slipped down his face yet again before he could stop them, and he could hear Eugene’s soft sound of confusion as he closed his eyes and chuckled. 

“Happy tears, I promise. I’ve never had anyone I was with react like this. I was waitin’ for yellin’ and carryin’ on, so this is,” Snafu shook his head and laughed. “This is so reassuring and wonderful and I…I just love you so damn much.” 

Eugene’s arms wrapped around him, and held him tight. “I love you too, and I’m gonna show you just how much more often. Starting tonight.” 

“I think you did just now,” Snafu said. “But if you’ve got something else in mind, you know I don’t often say no to you.” 

“We’re gonna have to kick the cats off the bed for it,” Eugene smiled and kissed him softly.

“You mean pick them up and carry them into the guest room, and drag Ack Ack’s bed in there since he likes sleepin’ with ‘em so much?” Snafu asked against Eugene’s lips before kissing him back, letting his hand move to wrap around Eugene’s neck, a thumb caressing his cheek. 

“Exactly,” Eugene said as they parted lips, foreheads still touching. “You ready for bed?” 

“I am. Now that you’re here with me,” Snafu sighed, and held Eugene’s hand tight as they stood and headed for the stairs. He couldn’t believe he’d ever gotten so lucky, that the universe had given him so sweet a man. 

But he was so happy to have him, to be his forever, and to know now more than ever, that Eugene was his always as well.

[ghoulsonline]

41, 57, 62 ☺️

Thanks for the asks!!! 

 41.  What was the last book you read?

This sounds pathetic but I read Red Wheelbarrow the companion to Mr. Robot season 2 and it literally changes the game, I loved every second of it, and the little inserts it really was super immersive and a quick read. But if we are talking like traditional books I would say, Trick Mirror by Jia Torentino!

57. How many relationships have you had?

 I have had only two “official” relationships aka. lasting longer than a year

62. What’s your favourite animal?

I love Anteaters right now, their snouts really speak to me

Also @xmxisxforxmaybe, I love your work and you are such a rami icon. 

[bohemian-napsodyy]

Hi there, I just want you to know that I love your blog so much! I was wondering if you have any Ahkmenrah x reader fics you could recommend? I love the fic you did for this and cannot get enough!!!

aww omg thank you so much anon! I’m so happy you like my blog <3

And I doooo!! There’s one particular series I am like,,, absolutely in love with??? it’s called Remnants by @xmxisxforxmaybe and it’s honestly the best masterpiece I have ever read --  I’m so emotionally invested in it I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love it!

You can find the masterlist for it here!

Happy reading my dear anon! :) 

[justice-for-shayla]

I’m sorry for whatever soured you on the fandom. Your writing is excellent, so I hope you’re still creating whatever you want to create. I LOVED The Shadow and The Soul and I’m HERE for it if you ever gain the inspiration to finish it. I wish you nothing but all the 💕good and happy💕 in your endeavors.

Thank you, this is very kind. I’m still writing on my main, but not for this fandom and tbh I’m so happy that I got my inspiration back for that. Maybe someday I’ll be able to finish the stuff I hadn’t finished. Thanks for taking the time to say this :)

[sherlollydramoine]

Would you rather date Sami now OR meet Rami 10 years from now but marry him?

Oh.. Ouch..

Sami now…. because at least I’d still be part of the family! :)

I change my mind... Rami. It doesn’t matter, he’s still going to be lovely.

[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

Starving

Happy Easter! This is not an easter-themed story but nonetheless, we've got something new here. From the requests, 'sit on my face and I'll show you how much I missed you' and 'don't worry, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I'm between your legs" with some slight modification.

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Female Reader

Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving) Facesitting. It's pretty tame, as far as some of my stories go.

Word Count: 1.6

Tags: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix @sherlollydramoine @itswormtrain @gloriousangelsdarkworld (I’m sorry I’m awful for keeping updated tag lists so pls lmk if you want to be added or taken off)

~

You loved coming home to him. Especially after you’ve been away for longer periods of time. God, there truly was nothing like it. Merriell Shelton was an amazing lover even on his worst days. But when he had gone days without you, the man was all but ravenous. You had gotten home while he was still at the shop, and while his lack of immediate presence was something you missed, you were grateful you had the time to freshen up and get started on dinner.

“She’s home!” He calls when he opens the door to your shared apartment, quick to shed his shoes and move to meet you in the kitchen, no doubt smelling the food warming on the stove, “And she made dinner.” His voice much closer now, a pair of arms are wrapping around your waist to pair with it.

“Hi baby,” You greet warmly, sinking back into his body as you tilt and turn your head to kiss him, slow and sweet, “How was your day?” You ask, enjoying the way he curls himself around you, nuzzling his face into your neck. You think distantly that if he were a cat, he’d be purring.

 “Too long,” he sighs, following it up with a kiss on your neck, “Knowin’ I had ta’ wait all day ‘till I could see you.” Another kiss, “That smells good, by the way.” he adds. 

You hum, pleased with his response. “Hungry?”

His lips then suck at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, slowly and so intensely that you have to grip the countertop in front of you for stabilization.

“Starving.”

You let out a shaky laugh, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head, encouraging him to keep kissingsuckingbiting at your skin, “Missed me then?”

“Come sit on my face and I’ll show you how much I missed you.” he breathes into your ear and in that moment, you feel every ounce of need in his body surge through yours. Not wasting another second you reach forward, turning the stove off before turning around and kissing him hard and passionate, hands tangling in his hair. Dinner completely forgotten.

Your lips meet in a frenzied kiss, both of you moaning softly into the kiss as your hands grab at each other, desperate after your time apart. His slide up your back and shoulders to keep you close, not letting you pull away from him for a second. His tongue slides against yours in the most delicious way and the only thought running through your brain is getting that tongue someplace else. His breathing is loud in your ears, every second feels like making up for lost time and it’s crazy because you were only gone for like five days. But you’ll be damned if it wasn’t the longest 5 days of your life. 

“Sit on my face,” He all but begs against your lips, hands now pulling your hips against his, something hard at your hip, “Baby, please? Let me show you.” 

You could never say no to him. You let him drag you down the hallway, never stopping kissing, touching, grabbing you. You giggle against his lips at the way he absolutely refuses to pull away from you to see properly, even when he accidentally backs into the corner of the wall between the hallway and your shared bedroom. Once you’re in the room, he’s sinking to his knees in front of you. 

It’s not often you see him like this, and it always takes your breath away. All big eyes and natural seduction as he pops the button of your jeans and drags them down and off your legs. He sits back for a second, letting his hands run up your calves and thighs, letting one thumb rub against your clothed clit. Your eyes flutter, but you don’t break eye contact. 

You watch in a daze as he rubs circles, he watches you back, upping the pressure until your mouth drops open on a gasp and your hips push forward. He hums, pleased, and leans forward, taking the fabric on your panties between his teeth, using his hands to assist the fabric down your legs to pool at your ankle. 

Your whole body is vibrating with anticipation as he slowly gets back up on his feet. His eyes stay locked on yours as he walks past you and lays himself across your shared bed. Once settled, he smirks, 

“Gonna make me wait all night?” 

Your desire to wipe the insufferable smirk off his face is only a secondary reason for how fast you find yourself scrambling up the bed to straddle his face. He laughs at your urgency and your heart swells a little at how much you just missed him. Once you’re in position he turns his head, kissing sloppily at your inner thigh, trailing up and up and up until his lips are brushing against the junction between your thighs and your pelvis. His head settles back against the pillow and for a moment you think you’ll die if he doesn’t start doing something. And just when you think you can’t take any more of his intense stare and the building anticipation, he’s using his hands on your ass to tug you down, sitting you fully on his face.

His tongue immediately goes to work, lapping at your folds and using the hands on your body to make you rock against his face. Your hands fly to his hair, desperately needing something to hold on to as the pleasure zolts through your body. 

“Oh shit,” You gasp, high pitched and breathy as your clit bumps and rubs against his nose. All at once, the room is too hot, and you're tugging at your shirt, practically ripping it from your body and working just as quickly to take your bra off.

He moans excitedly underneath you, eyes lighting up when your boobs bounce free, one hand sliding up your body to squeeze one, his fingers teasing and tugging at your nipples.

You work your hips up and down on his face, moaning with every hum and grunt he lets out against your pussy. You're moaning loudly, probably too loudly, but you couldn’t give less of a shit about that when his tongue dips into your entrance. He knows you love that, the feeling of him, warm and sofuckingwet wiggling inside of you. You can’t help to way your hips move to grind back on the movement, letting him fuck you with his tongue. 

He’s making you feel so good, you wouldn’t be surprised if his chin and neck were drenched. And it’s that thought that sends heat through your, your orgasm starting to race towards you faster than you anticipated.

“Merriell, oh fuck, I’m-” You start to warn, fingers tugging on his hair hard to keep him where you need him. You’re riding that edge, between holding back and giving in, on the cusp of orgasm when your eyes meet his. You had expected him to look cocky beneath you, smug as he usually is when he gets you off. But the man beneath you is desperate. He looks like he’s getting just as much pleasure from this as you are, cheeks flushed, eyebrows pulled down in such a way that if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was in pain. 

It’s the knowledge that he gets off on this that does it for you. His name tumbles off your lips and you can hear him moaning, borderline whining, beneath you, muffled by your thighs that threaten to cut off his oxygen completely. You collapse beside him, panting through the aftershocks of your orgasm as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” you sigh, turning to drape yourself over his still fully clothed body.

He laughs, capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss that tastes like you, “Not nearly as much as I missed you.”

You hum, agreeing to disagree. You then glance down his body, seeing if you could repay the favor only to find a wet spot at the front of his jeans. You look back up at him, heat once again rushing to the crux of your legs, “Did you...?”

He grins, not in the least bit embarrassed, “Ya looked so good baby, I couldn’ta stopped it if I tried.” 

You grin back at him, letting your hands run through his hair as you gaze at each other, basking in the afterglow, “Sorry I pulled your hair so hard.” You say after a moment, becoming aware of the stiffness in your fingers from their grip.

“You know I don’t mind,” He quips, lips tugging into a small smirk, “use them reigns, girl.”

You both fall into an easy laughter, tangled up with each other on ruffled sheets. It felt almost like you had never left. Except for the persistent need between your legs.

“I could go again,” You admit, placing a wet kiss on his shoulder, letting your legs tangle further with his, “could you?” 

You know he’s not hard, you’d be able to feel it. But the gleam in his eyes and how quickly he moves to lay between your legs on his stomach tells you that him not being hard isn’t going to stop you from getting another.

“Think I’ve got a way to pass the time ‘til I can.” He bites at your thigh, enjoying the gasp that leaves your lips at the slight pain, your hands already finding their way to his hair again, “and don’t worry, you can pull my hair as much as you want while I’m down here.”

[s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r]

[freebooter4ever]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH so when I make southwest PA references i know someone will get it!!! ^_^ I have probably driven through your hometown! i took road trips all over the western side of that state almost every weekend, and a few to nyc/central PA too. Bees/AutumnBees/Demonsandsuch an old friend of mine on tumblr and I did a big thanksgiving road trip to gettysburg in 2014ish and took route 40 and stopped at all the weird/haunted places we could find lol! plus nick’s sister had a small fishing place in the laurel highlands, so i’ve been all over that area, gotten myself lost while exploring PLENTY of times. never managed to run out of gas though came pretty close to it. way back when nick was one of those scruffy off the grid river guides who spent life kayaking and taking people down the rapids in ohiopyle. just about the only place i never did hit up was centralia...was always a little too nervous about that one haha.

Also yes the burgh is totally a town, one of the reasons why i eventually just left as much as i loved it, everyone knew everyone, sometimes the small art/music scene could get cliquish, one of my friends who grew up in the area used to say you know you have become a real yinzer when you complain about pittsburgh constantly but the minute any outsider insults the city you pick a fight lol.

[hexiva]

Obviously I LOVED your Elliot piece and can see you’re a Robot fan. 1. What is your favorite thing about writing Elliot? 2. What is your least favorite thing about writing Elliot?

Oooohh hello! Thank you so much for reading and for following! (I have some other Elliot pieces posted too, if you’re interested! </self promotion>)

1. My favorite thing about writing Elliot is probably aaaaa uuuhhhhh the catharsis? Like . . . watching the show . . . you bond with Elliot so hard, you just want to protect him. And if you’re writing him, you can do that! You can write a story where he gets sad and then he gets hugged. You may have noticed my fic so far has been pretty heavy on the h/c and the hugging. 

2. My least favorite thing is probably the fact that he’s so up in his own head that it can be hard to get him to like. Fucking TALK to other characters. Which of course is necessary to progress the story. He’s happy to talk to the reader, of course, because the reader is his imaginary friend, but like, talking to other characters? with his mouth? he does NOT like it

[izzy-b-hands]

I l💛ve you and cannot fathom ANYTHING going on in a fandom justifying sending hate. You are talented, I love that you write what makes you happy, your sense of humor is DIVINE, and I consider you a safe, joyous presence on this hellsite.

Thank you darling 💛. The whole thing has been just...weird. Folks have the right to their feelings and their opinions about the drama and to be upset, don’t get me wrong, but goddamn was it a punch in the chest to wake up today to literally an inbox full of angry, hateful anons, saying triggering shit. 

All because I reblogged a picture of someone who is involved with what is going on before I went to bed last night, as far as I can tell, and they took that as implicit that I agree with that person re: what started all the drama (I don’t, they need to learn from this mistake they’ve made, apologize for it, and do the work to be better in the future.) 

I’m incredibly lucky and grateful to have you and other friends who reached out to me here and on Discord today. Normally I can just delete and ignore anons, but this constant stream took a major toll today (in part probably because I’ve still been a bit fragile after the crap that went down with my mum, thank god I talk to my therapist tomorrow lmao.) 

Thank you for this message, and for your support and love 💛!

[redrydersrequiem]

Tv/movie masterlist

⭐️= personal favorite

As always credit to the original authors

Hazbin hotel/helluvaboss

Alastor

Night at the museum

Remnants by @xmxisxforxmaybe

Time traveling princess by @evangeline-perry

Goddess of mystery by @ramiramblings 

Umbrella academy

Five

I don’t need a partner by @lady-ashfade

Hard feelings by @mangoshorthand

Supernatural

Fic recommendations by such-fun

The Hunter and the pirate by @nicolejones412

Remember by @themind-on-paper

American horror story

It’s only forever by @7-wonders

Buffy the vampire slayer

Spike

The bookworm by @thatfanficstuff

Spike masterlist by @prose-for-hire

The man behind the monster part2 by @prose-for-hire

Spike masterlist by @inkandpen22

True blood

Eric

The valuable sun by @alonely-dreamer

Impossible by @thatfanficstuff ⭐️

Baby fangs @ likehorribledream

Lucifer

Symbiote by @the-writer-of the-fandoms

The sandman

The sandman and the girl without dreams by

House of the dragon

HOD masterlist by @heartysworld

Daemon

Coaxed into paradise by @herhenyratargaryan

Unexpected reunion by @earthling55

A true victory by @symra-sensei

Aemond

Amusement by @theficthatwaspromised

Little mouse by @eddiemadmunson

Love is blind by @animusxy

Blood of my blood by @ultralightpoe

The dragon dance by @dreamcatcher2113

Last of her house no more by @themotherofhorses

Red moon by @hamatoanne ⭐️

Harwin

The invitation

Once upon a December by @descendantofthesparrow⭐️

Wednesday

Violet witch and Xavier Thorpe by @pinkydevil16

Avatar

Sully family

Your first flight by littlerizzler

Neteyem

One of us by forever—darling ⭐️

Secret cove by fandomwriter90

End of the beginning by openpandorabox

Tiny hands by Mae-is-crazy

Same soul different body by fleursbending

A drop in the ocean by thecapybarra526

Experiment 56 by byunpum

Hear me by ohdeersthings

Inflamed by

Lo’ak

The right profile by thankeywa

Quaritch

Rising phoenix pt1 pt2 by Villiansimpqueen⭐️

The barren lands by Villiansimpqueen⭐️

Orphic by kxnxrki

Ma miles by mechformers ⭐️

What do I tell my family by plzfeedmebread

[alottanothing]

Count On It

Summary: Evie has another run-in with her beautiful stranger at work. Jonny remains uncooperative

Previous Part: Kismet

Word Count: 5691

Warnings: Language, Mentions of nonconsensual advances.

Taglist: @ramilicious, @txmel, @edteche2, @gloriousdarkangelsworld, @diasimar, @xmxisxforxmaybe (Let me know if I missed you, or if you would like to be added to the tag list)

A/N: Happy Halloween!!!!!! What's everyone going as? I, myself was a pirate for the tricker treaters yesterday, and today I will be galavanting around Ohio Renfaire as a witch. Anyway, on to the chapter. I actually managed to have time to edit this like I normally do (unlike the last part) which I have no idea how I managed that--life has been insane for me. Not a whole lot happens in this chapter, it introduces a new character and sets up the next part. If you didn't know, I'm making character moodborads for all the key players, so look for Birdie Ibott to be added sometime on Monday or Tuesday! Those can be found on this series' master page. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this part as a little treat for Halloween.

Also: HUGE shout out to my girl @freebooter4ever for making the actual drawing Evie sketches out in this chapter. Her doodles sort of played a hand in the creation of this series, so it meant so so much to me that she took the time to do that. You rock!

For four days, Merriell Shelton was a stranger.

Four days of unexpected longing. Four days of Evie choosing not to read them as the universe telling her the encounter she'd had with Mr. Shelton was nothing more than a whim. Four long days of nothing but work, and Jonny Doyle to occupy the hours of her life.

Maybe Merriell was to remain a mysterious stranger. Perhaps the only role he had to play was that of a kind soul who could aid her in a time of need—a brief gust of hopefulness to keep her heart appeased. If that was true, why did his absence leave such a significant hole inside of her?

If fate intended to have Merriell's purpose in her life remain something so fleeting and insignificant, then Evie knew she should have been at peace with never seeing him again. But, as the days dragged on without any sign of him, that wonderful tingle his company lent began to once again feel like the void she’d been running from.

It was absurd—she knew that—how entranced she'd allowed herself to be with Merriell: a man who was little more than a stranger. Cynthia would have been furious to find her brooding over a man she'd only just met. Her best friend had always favored reason over intuition. Both had their merits, which made reason a difficult thing to argue when her friend cast it upon her, but Evie always tried. Being away from her for the particular quandary of missing Merriell Shelton would save Evie several lectures.

Work proved to be a good distraction. For a few hours, she found a reprieve from that strange gnawing in her gut that begged her to ignore reason. The routine at the old general store was hackneyed but perfect for keeping her wandering mind occupied. Birdie helped too. Her warmth and charm were similar to Merriell’s, which helped pacify the yearning. Whenever shifts slowed, the two of them would talk and laugh; the older Cajun woman was bursting with wisdom and stories that she seemed to pass around like sweet candies for all to savor.

The comfort of work, however, was never strong enough to combat the anxiety of returning to Jonny's. Even when she returned to an empty house, she knew it was only a matter of time before he came raging through the door, drunk and angry with the world. She'd learned quickly it was best to pretend she was already in bed to avoid his tirade, although, that didn't always work.

The night Merriell had come for dinner Jonny spent the rest of the evening visibly upset. Evie couldn't tell if his anger stemmed from the alcohol still in his system or the sense of jealousy he harbored towards her. He’d stayed silent, but his expression remained a scowl until he finally had gone to bed.

One of the only reasons Evie had agreed to accompany Jonny to Louisiana was his declared understanding that she only intended to stay in his spare room until she could get a place of her own. She made it clear before she stepped foot in the train station over a year ago that the two of them were not, and never would be a couple. Jonny had nodded and promised he only wanted a familiar face moving south with him.

Maybe he did mean to keep his promise. Maybe it was his dependence on alcohol that caused him to break his vow. Or perhaps it had all been a charade to put her at ease until he could persuade her into his bed. Whatever his reasoning for letting her stay with him, it was not long before Jonny felt he was owed something for his alleged kindness.

On several occasions, Jonny had wandered into her room—reeking of liquor—speaking his lewd desires, and she would forcefully escort him to his room with a foray of threats. It worked for a while. Then it turned into a game—something for him to win. Not every night, but most of the ones he came home far past his limit, he’d make his move and Evie would always put him to bed. Sometimes she’d have to do it several times before she got her point across and he stayed in his room. Sometimes she’d leave him on the sofa and just go to bed. That was always easier.

The worst was the night when he'd stumbled in, working off his belt and pants as he crawled into her bed. Never could she remember ever moving faster; she jumped out from under her covers, not even bothering to fight, she just ran. That night she spent locked in the bathroom, sobbing on the floor, too afraid to sleep.

Of course, Jonny swore the next morning he had no recollection of trying to force himself on her, but Evie didn't care. It was just an excuse—one he offered without the benefit of an apology or an inkling of remorse. To him, her anger with the entire situation made him the victim.

After that, Evie never slept without making sure her door was locked.

***

Sleep was elusive; Evie laid wide awake, blinking up at the cracks in the ceiling, waiting helplessly for the sandman to pay a visit. Her mind, was in no way accommodating to the idea of sleep. In fact, her head was fraught with too many thoughts to find rest even though her body craved its sweet reprieve. It was as though there was a huge weight inside of her skull, vibrating with a mess of every tiny detail or notion of her life. Thoughts of her past lingered to haunt her, thoughts of her present felt meek and devoid of even simple joys. However, it was thoughts of her feature that swirled almost maddeningly in her head—vague but hopeful. It was there her mind dwelled, so easily choking out the prospect of sleep.

She stayed in her bed, desperate and irritated by sleep's apparent lack of willingness to hold her in its grasp until, finally, she embraced the wakefulness she could not seem to shake.

The dark made it difficult for her to see exactly what time she gave up the notion of slumber, but by the heavy darkness out her window and the muffled—yet somehow still shrill—cry of insects outside, Evie knew that morning was a good way off. With an annoyed huff, she tossed her quilt aside and sat up with a stretch wondering how best to busy her already busy mind.

There were several things she could do around the old cottage. The kitchen was in need of a good deep clean, and most of the drapes would've benefited from a wash or two. But, venturing into other parts of the house risked crossing paths with her impetuous roommate. Even if he was in his room, his nosey disposition would surely coax him into the open, most likely to complain that she was making too much noise for him to sleep. It was difficult to keep a frown from turning on her face as she played out each of those scenarios in her head: every outcome ending in some baseless argument.

Evie sighed again knowing counting the cracks in the ceiling was far more beneficial than any chore she would complete when the risk of Jonny interrupting was so high.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of her room, her mind drifted in search of a thought that did not plague her—one free of fear, or grief, or annoyance, or Jonny. She yearned to cling to something warm and blissful, released from all those irritating notions.

Something like her beautiful stranger.

Slowly, Evelyn's frown worked into a light smile feeling the butterflies flitting in her stomach at the thought of the man who had charmed his way into her mind. There, he was able to combat some of the shadows that dwelled in her memory, somehow able to curb the grief with the swirl of color he'd brought back into her life.

Any rational person would strive to find something else to fixate on; a part of her wished he was not so ingrained into her memory. Yet, a larger part of her thrived with Merriell in the forefront of her mind. And soon, as she sat in the dark of her room, the only thing filling her head was him.

Evie's smile pulled a little tighter, her heart warm and her fingers buzzing with inspiration.

With sleep so far out of reach, Evie tugged gently on the pull-chain of the lamp next to her bed, illuminating one side of her room in a soft yellow glow.

When she'd packed her art supplies away to find a job, something kept her from packing everythingcompletely out of sight. Under her bed, she'd tucked away a well-used pad of paper and an assortment of her favorite drawing utensils in case of a creative emergency. Muse’s were fickle beasts, after all. One had to catch them as often as one could.

Evie easily found the box of necessities and situated herself against a stack of pillows, eager to ride the coat-tails of inspiration before it left much too hastily as it often did. With the pad of paper propped against the angle of her legs, Evie began to draw with hope and whimsy to guide her fingers.

The slight grit of the artist's paper instilled her with surgical focus as she raked the chunk of charcoal across the page. She felt brazen diving into a piece with no plan, kindling a hint of foolish confidence. Charcoal was a messy medium to work with, though she preferred it to graphite; the shading was always so much more substantial and dramatic than what could be done with pencil. Graphite was an excellent crutch, and she often used it to lightly sketch out a piece before filling it in. Yet, as she worked with only memory and no guide, Evie had never felt more adept in her skill.

Time seemed to stand still as she worked. And when the soft tendrils of morning light were slowly devouring the shine of the stars out her window, she had finished.

To the naked eye, the piece would look flawless. Evie though could pinpoint each tiny error. Still, she smiled at the image shear impulse had created.

The figure sat at the counter alone—smoke from those around him a halo above his curls—his finger absently tracing the rim of the glass in front of him. The stranger's face was handsome, but beneath his beauty, a peculiar sadness dwelled to darken his sharp features. He was lost somewhere, in his thoughts or his memories, unable to combat them without a vice to help chase them away.

The narrative of the figure she'd drawn stirred a hint of mystery and melancholy—who was the man sitting alone with only his drink as company? What tragedy had stolen the joy from his handsome features?

One day I'll know… Evie promised herself smiling gently at the man in her drawing.

She dated the bottom corner and began to write Merriell's name on the back until she stopped a moment before titling the piece Beautiful Stranger #01, instead.

Before long, a yawn overtook Evie's pleasant expression making the notion of rest finally tangible. Sketching had settled her mind, as it usually did, and she carefully tucked all her supplies away before reaching for the pull chain on her bedside lamp. She hesitated, fingers barely touching the cool metal as her eyes wandered over to the latch on her bedroom door.

It was locked; Jonny could not hurt her that night.

As she had hoped, sleep was restful and empty, yet those hours of slumber managed to feel like a blip. When she woke, Evie did so with a jolt, knowing without the aid of a clock, she had overslept.

"No no no no no…" She panicked, almost rolling out of bed and onto the floor in her haste.

She dressed in a whirlwind, pinning her hair out of her face with so little time to braid it properly. Two and a half blocks were all that stood between her and the bus stop, which on any other day Evie would have easily walked to catch a ride into town. But, the morning stop was well past its pick up; the bus would only return in the evening to drop everyone else back off. Birdie's general store was several miles away, nestled in the heart of Bridge City. And as a seasoned New Yorker, Evie knew she could walk the distance without getting winded, but time was her enemy. She needed to get to work as soon as possible, which meant her only choice was to borrow Jonny's car.

Unsurprisingly, he was still asleep when she worked up the nerve to tip-toe into his messy chamber. There was a foul stench in his room that smelled of alcohol mixed with body odor. She'd stopped doing his laundry when she told him she was going to go find a job (something she shouldn't have started to do in the first place), and it seemed as though he'd stopped doing it too.

"Jonny…" she whispered forcefully in an attempt to wake him easily.

He did little more than shift and groan in response, making Evie frown. She did not have time to coddle him.

"Jonny!"

That time his grown sounded irritated, and he frowned, refusing to open his eyes.

"What?!"

He was already pissed.

"I'm late for work, could I borrow the car?"

"No," he said without hesitation. "I need the car later to go into town."

Jonny rolled over, away from Evelyn, seeming to go back to sleep. His sheer lack of humility and motivation set Evie's teeth against each other as annoyance seeped into every trace of her expression and demeanor.

"Then you have to give me a ride," she said sternly.

Jonny rolled onto his back, red-faced and angry.

"Jesus, Evelyn! Can't you take the fucking bus? I've got a headache!"

Evie's eyes narrowed, and she stomped forward to the edge of his bed, fire burning.

"No. I can't take the fucking bus, Jonny. I missed the pickup. So I am either taking the car, or you are giving me a ride because I am not walking five miles into town when you won't even do your own damn laundry! Heaven forbid you get a job!"

"Fine! Fine!...Christ, woman. Shut up…" He held up his hands, waving them in an attempt to put an end to her shouting. "Lemme get dressed."

"Quickly," she warned, stomping out of his room so she could take a breath out of the toxicity of where he slept.

He was not quick.

No doubt, Jonny, as a form of retaliation, purposely took his time. And as alluring a notion it was to storm in and start another spat, Evie knew it was better to let him be. He was going to take her to work, that was all she needed—she'd won that round.

With a sigh, she made herself a cup of coffee and sipped as she leaned against the counter, ready to abandon her mug on a moment's notice, knowing if she wasn't following him the moment he trudged out of his room, he'd turn every shade of red and start screaming again. How anyone could harness so much hostility was beyond Evie's ability to comprehend. It seemed tiring, for one. But who willingly acted the way Jonny did thinking it was right? Even sober his temper took little to irritate. Meanness was in his soul, and Evie couldn't even pity him.

"Let's go. Now!" Jonny grumbled as he sped through the house, snatching his keys from their hook on his way out the door.

He didn't even bother casting her a glance and Evie could do nothing but frown as she placed her half-drunk mug of coffee in the sink, following him over the threshold. It was mornings such as that when Evelyn wished she'd stayed in New York City. She missed friendly faces who greeted her in the early hours of the day: the smell of her mother making breakfast while her father drank his coffee reading the paper. But all that happiness had soured; there were more ghosts back home than there were friendly faces, and Evie was not strong enough to weather them.

The ride into town was mostly quiet—uncomfortable—but quiet.

That was until Jonny felt brave enough to comment on how irresponsible she'd been for oversleeping.

"I'm irresponsible?" Evie glared, dumbfounded. "At least I have a job to be late for, Jonny!"

His face turned one of those alarming shades of red Evie was so insufferably used to.

"It's hard for me to work with my arm all fucked up!"

Her eyes narrowed, "You and I both know that's a load of bull—you were not discharged from the Army because you took shrapnel."

Jonny's jaw was set tight, and his knuckles were white on the steering wheel. It was obvious he wanted to argue, but he knew he was cornered.

"You're just lazy, Jonny. And you don't take orders." Evie continued. "You can tell everyone your sob story from the war, but you are not fooling me."

The interior of the car was silent again, and while the air was definitely cumbersome, Evie felt a tingle of righteousness trickle through her. Perhaps she had been irresponsible for missing the bus that morning, but she was trying, which was far more than Jonny had done.

It was so easy for veterans to get jobs; over a year ago, places were hiring women in droves. In 1947, Evie was lucky to have found a job. With the war over everyone wanted a soldier working for them—a young man who was hardworking and trustworthy—a man who could take orders and would not bite back at authority. Jonny had never been that kind of soldier, thus he would never be that kind of worker.

As for whether or not he'd taken shrapnel during the war remained to be seen. It was possible, but Jonny lied all the time, especially when he could get something from doing so. The notion of his alleged injury only came up when he needed a crutch to get out of something, or a way for some unknowing kind soul to shower him with pity. Not once had he complained about a bad arm when it didn't benefit him.

Nevertheless, that was the story he'd told everyone when he'd returned home in '43. He thrived on the attention and pity the sob story rendered, and in the beginning, Evie'd been one of them until she'd found his discharge papers during the chaos of moving.

According to the documentation, not only was he insubordinate for the duration of his time in the service, he'd also threatened a member of his platoon at gunpoint while under the influence. The only reason he wasn't court-martialed was that he never fired his weapon. Why she'd been surprised to learn of the matter of his removal, Evie wasn't sure. But after living with him for eighteen months it was not a difficult conclusion to figure.

"I'll pick you up at five," Jonny mumbled when he pulled up to the curb outside the general store.

Even if she had wanted to, Evie didn’t have time to offer any thanks before Johnny sped away–the passenger door slamming shut from the force. She stood in awe, a heavy sigh parting her lips, head shaking, as she watched his reckless vehicle speed down main street and out of sight. He would be in a rotten mood all day, something Evie was almost certain would come to haunt her before the day was over. And while the notion of enduring whatever fit Jonny’s temper cooked up just for her, she decided not to dwell on it. There was too little good in her life to let the threat of a “could be” situation ruin a day in Birdie’s company. She would make the most of what she could. She had to.

Thankfully, the interior of the general store was quiet when Evie crossed the stepped inside. Instantly, the warm atmosphere and rich scents of old lumber and barrels of coffee beans put to rest the remaining ire left in her system, bringing a soft, contented smile to her lips.

Evie placed her bag behind the counter and reached for her navy apron hanging on the hook by the window.

“Birdie?” She called, hearing the older woman’s soft humming coming from somewhere in the building.

“Back here, dearie.” She answered. “Come an’ gimmie a hand, would ya?”

Evie followed the sound of her boss’ voice, finding the old woman in the farthest part of the store, stocking the shelves with jars of preserves. Birdie tossed her a welcome smile over her shoulder.

“Mornin’, Evie.”

“Morning—sorry I’m late, Birdie.”

The old woman’s brows knit together, and she searched her store for a clock with a glance.

“Are ya?” She shrugged. “Coulda fooled me. Just help me with this, yeah?”

“Okay, sure. No problem.” Evie nodded, smiling at the woman’s nonchalance.

Birdie patted her on the back and continued to place jars on the shelf, humming.

Work that afternoon was not profoundly exciting, but what it lacked in thrill it made up for in repose. The routine was relaxed and, despite the doldrums, the hours ticked by. She spent her morning placing the new inventory and making sure everything was priced how it should be, then she would finish her shift at the counter, ringing out customers while Birdie made lists of what needed to be ordered in the future.

Evie liked her time at the front the best. Most of the patrons who stopped in were friends of Birdie’s or her late husband Cecil, and the old woman would regularly introduce Evie with a smile. Chatting with those friendly strangers always helped bring some light into Evelyn's life, and little by little the residents of Bridge City were beginning to make her feel at home.

It was nearing closing time when Evie found herself in the far corner of the store sweeping the floors. How fitting it was to begin and end her shift in the same area of the building—a thought that made her smile as she focused on the movement of bristles against the wood. That fleeting tickle of jovial musings waned as the usual bought of melancholy that accompanied the end of another shift hit without mercy. Knowing she was to leave the serenity of the old general store to endure another evening of loneliness or Jonny—an angry Jonny—always twisted sickly in her stomach and made her frown.

If she was lucky, his frustration would heed a night of debauchery in New Orleans with his group of friends, leaving her alone in the old cottage for the majority of the night. Even then, she’d be left in the quiet to contemplate the grief in her heart; either way, there was no winning.

“Hiya, Birdie.” Came the sound of a familiar thick accent. “Got any smokes?”

Evie perked up instantly, suddenly hearing only the muffled beat of her heart in her ears. Excitement felt like fire in her veins, and all at once she was light-headed—Evie had never felt more ridiculous.

In an attempt not to seem obvious, she began working her pile of dust to the front of the store, eager to investigate the voice.

“There she is!” Birdie grinned causing Evie to look up with a nervous smile.

Merriell was leaning against the counter, his expression holding that charming smirk he seemed to wear with pride. His jeans were ratty—a hole at each knee—the blue denim blackened with grease stains here and there. The white shirt he wore was just as dirty but was free of any visible tears. It did, however, hug his lean frame in such a way Evie had a difficult time not staring.

“Evelyn, dearie. Ya never mentioned ya knew Merry!”

Mer made a sour face, but his smile remained.

“Oof,” he cringed. “Birdie, ain’t no one called me Merry since I was eight!”

The older woman’s eyes narrowed as she placed her hand on her hip with enough sass to shake the very foundation of the old general store.

“Merry Shelton, I’ve known you since you was toddlin’ ‘round here in nuthin’ but ya birthday suit. ‘Cause ya mama—try as she might—could not keep ya in ya clothes. All of which entitles me ta call ya whatevah the hell I damn well please!”

Merriell chuckled and leaned over the counter to plant a kiss on Birdie’s cheek.

“Guess I can’t argue with that.”

As the two of them laughed, the depth of their loving history caused Evie to smile. She was glad that Merriell had Birdie, and that Birdie had him. Whatever their stories were, whether light or darkness trailed behind them, at least they had one another.

“Ev, darlin’. Tell me how it was ya came ta know my handsome, Merry.”

“Her car broke down a few days back,” Mer cut in before Evie could gather her words. “She came in ta Doc’s askin’ ta use the phone ta call a mechanic.”

Birdie’s smile grew, something mischievous twinkling in her eyes as she passed a glance between the two of them. All at once, she was greatly intrigued with the two of them.

“Did ya fix it for her?”

“Sho did,” Merriell grinned smugly. “An’ as a thank you, I got me the best Italian home-cookin' I evah had.”

Birdie’s smile turned to Evie, her salt and pepper brow raised with query.

“Are ya Italian?”

Evie shook her head, “Irish, actually. But my ma lived across the hall from an Italian family after moving to the states when she was 18. They were kind enough to pass along a few recipes.”

“Oh, that’s nice. An’ I shoulda guessed you is Irish—all that red hair an freckles, gives it right way.” Birdie shook her head, seemingly disappointed in herself.

Evie smiled gently at the old woman’s reaction before turning back to Merriell.

“Thank you again for what you did.”

“Nah, thank you…” A shade of darkness flashed in his eyes, but he glanced away too quickly for Evie to gauge it properly.

It was as though he had something else to say, but thought better of it at the last moment, casting his glance around for some way to steer the conversation elsewhere. Finally, his wayward eyes came back to her, focusing on the broom in her hand.

“So…you enjoyin’ the job? Birdie’s bein’ nice, ain’t she?”

The old woman cast him a heavy frown, muttering a curse as she gave his arm a solid punch before snatching the broom from Evie and wandering into the store.

“She’s great,” Evie told him, leaving out the bit where Birdie was the only good thing consistent in her day-to-day life. “And I like it, it’s better than sitting at home.” Dealing with Jonny.

Mer nodded but said nothing else.

He never looked away from her though, his glance attentive and tender. He looked at her almost in—not quite awe—but something in that ballpark. It wasn’t something Evie was used to.

“So…why did you come in so close closing?” She asked in an attempt to thwart the blush his watchfulness began to stir.

His eyes pointed to a row of packaged cigarettes displayed on the counter.

“Birdie lets me bum smokes every time I fix somethin’ for her—or change a light bulb." Mer reached behind her for a pack, and Evie couldn’t help but watch the movement of his fingers as he opened the box and lit up.

“Do you always trade your skills for goods or services instead of cash?”

The corners of his mouth quirked into a small grin before he blew a stream of smoke out his nostrils.

“Sometimes a favah is the best currency ta have. Ya nevah know when ya gonna need a helpin’ hand.”

His expression softened from its usual wit to a guise brimming with compassion, something almost vulnerable. “I don’ eveah expect anything back though, helpin’ people’s just good for ya soul—money don’t mean nothin’ next ta that.”

All at once, some profound feeling worked through Evelyn’s body she didn’t quite understand. It was warm like every other feeling she’d reveled in on behalf of Mer’s presence. But suddenly it was so much stronger. Every part of her tingled; she was overcome with happiness and a sense of security.

Merriell's inherit generosity was a beacon she wanted nothing more than to cling to; the embodiment of southern hospitality. He was nothing like the New York indifference she was accustomed to.

“I suppose you’re right,” Evie said finally.

“‘Course I am,” Mer grinned, that hint of vulnerability swallowed by his arrogance.

“Does that mean you’re too good to have a real job like the rest of us shmucks?”

Merriell chuckled, flicking ashes from his cigarette into the tray beside the register before taking a long drag.

“Nah, I’m a workin’ shmuck too—necessary evil.”

“Ah…” Evie nodded, trying to match just a fraction of his charm. “Unfortunately so.”

As she watched him inhale a few more drags from his cigarette, a million questions began swimming about in her mind. Merriell was like a wayward summer breeze blowing in during the deepest part of winter—warm and whimsical but mysterious. There were a thousand things in his smile that made her yearn to know him at an intimate level, and a thousand more in the melancholy he held when he thought no one was looking.

There were so many layers to her beautiful stranger, each one harder than the last to uncover. But Evie was prepared to wait, to help him blossom, if he wanted.

Birdie returned to the front of the store with the broom and a full dustpan, dumping the trash into the bin beside the counter.

“Well, anothah day ovah. I prolly won’t be needin’ ya till ‘bout noon or one o’clock tomorrow, Evie. Sunday’s always slow before church lets out.”

“You sure?” Evie asked, beginning to untie her apron. “I don’t mind coming in early if you need me.”

Birdie shook her head, “I been running this place for a long time, it’s always run like clockwork—just like the folks that live here. Sunday mornin’ is for the lord, ain’t no one gonna be stoppin’ in ta buy nothin’ till they done prayin’.”

“I take it you’re not the church-going type?” Evie asked, brow raised.

Her mother had been raised Catholic, and as such, Aileen Clarke, raised Evelyn and James to be devout Catholics as well. She’d hoped at least. Evie admired the sense of community the church offered, but she never felt connected to it; her soul was too wild. Unlike so many, Evie didn’t judge a person for how or where they spent their Sundays.

“Oh, child. I got too many vices ta ask God for his forgiveness every week. We ain’t been on speakin’ terms for quite a while.”

Evie nodded, curious, but said nothing.

“Shelton’s feel the same way,” Mer added, speaking with his cigarette between his lips.

“Clarke’s too,” Evie said, feeling obliged. “What’s left of us at least…”

The space was quiet for a moment, her statement hanging somewhat awkwardly, and Evie quickly sought to remedy the cumbersome atmosphere.

“Okay, so noon tomorrow?”

Birdie nodded.

“You—uh…” Mer stood up a little straighter scratching the back of his head as his cigarette clung precariously to his bottom lip. “You need a ride home? I’d be happy ta take ya.”

The smile on Evelyn's face barely had time to form when Jonny’s voice broke the levity in the atmosphere.

“I’m her ride home.”

In his hand, he held a mediocre bouquet which he shoved into Evie’s grasp after pushing past Merriell.

Immediately confusion twisted onto her features as she glanced at the flowers.

“Jonny, what are these f—“

“I’m sorry I was a dick this morning.” He huffed without an ounce of any real sincerity. “I thought I’d make it up to you.”

A lump formed in the back of Evie’s throat she struggled to swallow, feeling uncomfortable with what his gift implied. She looked to Merriell, finding him watchful again, concern weighing on his brow.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers, Jonny. An apology would have been enough,” she said finally, looking back to her roommate.

Redness swelled on his face, his scowl growing deep as the onslaught of rage began to brew behind his eyes.

“Thanks though!” Evie said quickly in an attempt to keep his temper at bay.

He sighed, already irritated just from being there. “Are you ready to go?”

Jonny eyed Merriell maliciously, but once more Mer stood his ground unfazed.

“I want to talk to you about something,” Jonny added, his tone sounding darker.

All at once, alarm twisted her gut into anxious knots and every nerve in her body screamed out in warning not to follow Jonny home. And while everything inside begged her not to go, Evie did not want to cause a scene.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Let me just get my…”

Birdie handed her the bag she carried into work, her dark eyes conveying an air of caution. “I’ll be seein’ ya tomorrow, dearie.”

“Yeah, tomorrow—have a good night Birdie,” Evie said.

She stopped in front of Merriell on her way out the door, meeting his gaze, finding his eyes fierce with concern.

“See ya around?” Evie asked as Jonny yanked her by the wrist towards the door.

“Count on it.”

It was that intensity in Merriell's eyes when he spoke that kept the fear at bay. And all Evie could do was hope it would help see her through whatever awaited her when she got home too.