#Darryl is on the driver seat

[cosmicterrorthe8th]

This is what every arc of dungeons and daddies season1 was functionally.

[itsbrucey]

Stupid idea for the stupid idea vault but.

Glenn and Darryl making out in the Odyssey and like feeling each other up and Glenn pauses and furrows his eyebrows. And he's like " wait....if I'm a switch.....and you're a switch.......then whose driving the van"

And it hard cuts to Ron in the driver's seat, giving a thumbs up in the rear view mirror.

Anyway.

[kingofpopmj]

Conscious Decision

Part 2

July 14th, 1988

Katherine and I made it to the stadium in record time. She told the driver it was an emergency, so he’d speed through red lights that she described as yellow-ish. It was just about four hours until showtime and crowds of fans were already gathered waiting for the gates to open. I couldn’t help but think of the magnitude of this milestone. I knew it meant everything to Michael.

Wembley Stadium. Legendary.

My best friend is a living legend.

“Michael must be so excited.”

“He gets excited for every show. Now, seeing you, that will be the cherry on top.” She announced proudly.

Entering the stadium my nerves began to intensify with each step. Katherine had a few security guards meet us at the entrance. She wanted to ensure our arrival went as smoothly as possible and for that I was grateful. I could hear the distant sound of music, which I assumed to be rehearsals.

Finally, we made it to the end of a ramp that led to the stage. Katherine took my hand squeezing it giving me silent reassurance. When we made it to the stage after walking up undoubtedly the longest ramp known to man, Michael wasn’t there. The only person in sight was Greg Phillinganes, Michael’s keyboard player.

“Katherine! Y/N!” Greg threw his hands in the air rushing over to greet us. “Michael didn’t mention you’d be here today. It’s great to see you!”

“It’s great to see you!” We shared a quick hug. “It’s actually a surprise. He doesn’t know I’m here. Do you by any chance know where he is?”

“Aw! I see. That is so sweet!” He chuckled wiggling his eyebrows. I brought my hand to my face in attempt to hide my red cheeks. “Thy royal highness was whisked away not too long ago for an interview.” Katherine and I shared a look of panic that Greg instantly picked up on.

“I love surprises.” He announced. “I have some free time. I can be of assistance.”

“Really? Greg you’re awesome!”

“Anything for Michael.” He shrugged.

“Okay, there he is.” Greg pointed around the corner to a large space where Michael was being interviewed. He was placed in the center of bulky camera and lighting equipment. Michael had the biggest most beautiful smile on his face. I could tell by the twinkle in his eyes he was genuinely enjoying himself. Once I heard Michael’s laugh I was done for. There was no way I could wait any longer.

“Let’s get closer.” I whispered leaving the safety of our hideout. The smirk plastered on Greg’s face led me to believe he could sense my impatience. We found a spot with a lovely view of the back of Michael’s head, so he wouldn’t see us. The interviewer Darryl Dennard, however, noticed our presence almost immediately. I strategically positioned myself behind some equipment to avoid his gaze.

The interview came to an end and both men stood from their seats as chaos erupted around them.

“How lovely that you have your family accompanying you on tour.” Mr. Dennard gestured over to us. Michael slightly peeked over his shoulder seeing Katherine.

“Yes, thankfully, my mother is one of my biggest supporters.” He laughed this time fully turning around to call her over. That’s when he saw me.

“Y/N.” Michael said breathlessly. Delicately placing a hand over his heart. He did that when he was deeply touched. It meant he was about to get emotional.

The space between us rapidly disappearing as we advanced meeting in the middle. He instantly took ahold of me. One hand delicately sliding across the curve of my back and the other resting at the nape of my neck. My arms wrapped around him without skipping a beat.

“You’re here.” He exhaled into my neck.

“I’m here.” We stood in each other’s embrace until the sound of someone clearing their throat seized our attention.

“Hello, I’m Darryl.” He spoke reaching out to shake my hand. “And you must be the incomparable Liberian Girl.” He smiled. “Beautiful! What a vision the two of you are together.”

“No!” Michael quickly interjected slinging his arm around my shoulders. “This is my Y/N- well not- this is- not my- I-“ he took a shaky breath. “I meant, this is Y/N! She’s my best friend. We’ve been inseparable since we were kids.” There was a hint of tension in the air, but Michael nervously laughed it off.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” I responded shaking Darryl’s hand. An uneasy feeling becoming prominent in my chest.

“The best friend of Michael Jackson that’s basically royalty. That’s a to die for role these days. You know, there are millions of people that would love to hear from you! Have you ever considered doing an interview?” He boldly inquired.

“I don’t-“ before I could finish my sentence he added to his earlier statement.

“Oh come on. I just know you have stories to tell.”

“No-“ I was interrupted once again, but this time by Michael.

“Absolutely not. She is off limits.” He said sternly.

Michael didn’t say a word on the long walk back to his dressing room. Every attempt to make small talk went nowhere. When we arrived at our destination Michael held the door open for us then promptly shut it behind himself.

“Mickey, what’s wrong?” I hoped the use of his childhood nickname would soften him up. It didn’t. I was met with more silence. He shuffled past me taking a seat as far away as possible.

“I’ll be outside.” Katherine exited at lightening speed giving me no time to protest.

I began exploring the room. My gaze landing on a picture of us taped to his vanity mirror. It was taken a seven years ago. I received a letter from the medical school I dreamt of attending. Michael insisted I leave the envelope sealed until my nerves settled. What I didn’t know was he immediately went into party planning mode. It took him two whole days, he got little to no sleep, but he pulled it off. The most amazing surprise party. He truly thought of everything. It was perfect. He was perfect. Michael is perfect. He felt strongly that I should be surrounded by love when I read the life changing news. Michael was confident I had been accepted, so he refused to hold off on the celebration.

“I remember this day.”

“It’s one of my favorites.” Michael finally spoke up. I took the opportunity to take the seat next to him.

“Mine too.” I cautiously continued. “Are you ready to talk about what’s upsetting you?”

“I never thought about the possibility of you turning against me too.” His muttered words laced with sadness.

“I would never turn against you.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“Michael, I’m not them.”

“I know. I just- I have no idea what I would do without you in my life.”

“You’re never going to be without me. I’m always going to be by your side. Nothing and no one could change that.”

“I still can’t believe you’re here.” He shyly took my hand into his. “You’re my favorite person.” He smiled glancing at our intertwined fingers.

“And you’re mine.”

“I love you.” He professed in a way that would appear as a reflex to anyone else but us.

“I love you.”

Michael has heard me utter those three words thousands of times. However, right now he’s looking at me like it’s the first time. We sat there intently staring into each other’s eyes. I could feel his nerves through our connected hands which caused my heartbeat to accelerate. His breath lightly tickled my cheeks as he leaned into me. My eyes fell shut instinctively when I felt his soft fingers graze my jawline.

“I have to go rehearse!” Michael shouted startling me out of my trance. He pushed me away and scrambled to his feet.

“I thought you already rehearsed?”

“No, well-.” He drifted off. I could see him trying to think of a lie. You know, the lights were on, but no one was home. If circumstances were different I’d laugh at what a terrible liar he is. There isn’t a dishonest cell in his entire body. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt taking small steps backward towards the door. “I gotta go!” And just like that he was gone.

Michael successfully avoided me for the entire two hours before showtime. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had himself locked away in a closet somewhere. There were no rehearsals. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together as yet another crew member ran past us in a panic. No one could find Michael or had any idea where he was. I felt numb. He was hiding because of me. I felt like a fool for being here, but somehow leaving felt more humiliating.

“Relax! My boy is a professional prankster.” Katherine shouted after them laughing. I shook my head, but couldn’t fight the smile forming across my face. It’s frustrating that the mere mention of him shifts my mood.

I could never be angry at him.

I could never hate him.

And before today, I thought I could never be hurt by him.

“It’s going to be a great show. Excited?” Katherine asked as she stood beside me. We were watching from backstage so we had a nice view of the stage and crowd.

“Yes. Opening night of five sold out shows.” I smiled genuinely. “Michael must be so proud.”

The lights went down and the roar from the crowd made my entire body vibrate. This is incredible.

As the show went on Katherine and I were enjoying ourselves. I could never get tired of watching Michael perform. It was pure magic. After about an hour into the concert we hear the beginning chords of ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’. Tatiana struts out onto the stage while Michael chases after her. Their playful banter immediately won over the crowd. I had no idea that in a matter of seconds our lives would change forever.

Tatiana stood with her hands on her hips as Michael danced blocking her path. She confidently advanced toward him placing her hands of his chest. Suddenly, she pulled Michael towards her. His voice abruptly cutting off as the music continued.

It seems the universe was full of surprises today. Each surprise designed to break my heart further beyond repair.

Michael and Tatiana kissed.

It was quick but from where I was standing it felt like an eternity.

The concert continued on, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t continue on. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t function. My world came to a painful halt the moment their lips met.

My heart. It wasn’t pumping blood throughout my body anymore. It was just bleeding. It was destroyed and the rest of my body was following quickly behind.

My legs were moving before I could process what was happening.

“Honey?” I hear Katherine’s worried voice calling from behind me.

“I think I should go.”

“What happened to choosing more? Don’t let that change your mind. That out there was not-” she thoughtfully closed her eyes searching for what to say next.

“I think- I think we were wrong.” I sobbed finally releasing all the pain I had bottled up.

We stood in the empty hallway with the faint sound of music booming off the walls. Katherine didn’t ask anymore questions. She didn’t share anymore words of encouragement. She just held me, because she knew that’s the only thing I truly needed.

Ah! Part 2! I had to add some drama please don’t hate me.

Side note: I’m aware that the infamous “kiss” & Darryl Dennard’s interview didn’t take place on this date. I just felt these would be great moments to work it into the story.

As always let me know what you think. Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it!

Part 3???

[mutatedangels-a]

@thesongbiird // shane x beth

Nobody wants to look at him.

Even Darryl, who's quick to call out when stupid's stupid, brushes past him—and Shane can sense that the once wild and untamable has now recognized a new member of its pack, an alpha. And there can only be one.

Rick and Darryl are out on a hill in the distance, finishing up the last of the burials from the barn. Shane can only make out their silhouettes from the bottom of the hill, sitting atop the hood of the SUV. The Georgia sun is unforgiving and he knows them two are close to heat exhaustion if they haven't crossed that threshold already; but they've got to do it, they say. They've got to bury the bodies because these walkers were once people, and what's the world coming to if you lose respect for people?

Baloney.

Why waste the effort burying them when they've long been dead?

They're townies, the kind you see once in a while but hardly speak to. Bury Sophia, sure. She didn't deserve any of it. (And Shane didn't think she'd come out of there, out of all people.) Bury—

The Greene matriarch.

Shane's view is suddenly blocked by a figure he can't quite make out yet, not until they get away from being backlit by the sun. Not wanting any confrontation, he pushes himself off the hood of the car and turns around, opening the driver's seat door.

Barely audible, he mutters, "I'm goin' for supplies."

[reasoningdaily]

if anybody thought police would be deterred by that apparent exception to the rule of holding police accountable for killing Black people, they should think again as it has been a quick resumption of law enforcement normalcy with continued shootings of Black men and boys with impunity since Chauvin’s murder conviction.

Case in point, Alaunte Scott was shot and killed by U.S. Marshals as he was taking the garbage out of his home on Tuesday afternoon in southeast Washington, D.C., the Washington Post reported. Scott’s mother said the Marsdhs claimed they were trying to execute an arrest for a parole violation before shooting her son in the back because they allegedly saw the 22-year-old holding a gun.

None of the Marshals were wearing body cameras.

Scott’s name joins a long list of too many other Black men and boys killed by the police, including people who have become household names for all the wrong reasons like Jayland Walker, Patrick Lyoya, Tamir Rice, Botham Jean, E.J. Bradford, and Michael Brown. But there are plenty of others whose police killings never went “viral,” including people like Michael Dean, a 28-year-old father who police shot in the head on Dec. 3, 2019, and Jamee Johnson, a 22-year-old HBCU student who police shot to death after a questionable traffic stop on Dec. 14, 2019.

One of the most distressing parts of this seemingly nonstop string of police killings of Black people is the fact that more times than not, the officer involved in the shooting can hide behind the claim that they feared for their lives — even if the victim was shot in the back, as has become the case for so many deadly episodes involving law enforcement. In a handful of those cases — such as Antwon Rose, a 13-year-old boy killed in Pittsburgh, and Stephon Clark, a 22-year-old killed in Sacramento, both of whom were unarmed — the officers either avoided being criminally charged altogether or were acquitted despite damning evidence that the cops’ lives were not threatened and there was no cause for them to resort to lethal force or any violence for that matter.

Crump, who has been retained in so many of these cases, described the above scenarios in his book, “Open Season,” as the “genocide” of Black people.

As NewsOne continues covering these shootings that so often go ignored by mainstream media, the below running list (in no certain order) of Black men and boys who have been shot and killed by police under suspicious circumstances can serve as a tragic reminder of the dangers Black and brown citizens face upon being born into a world of hate that has branded them as suspects since birth.

Scroll down to learn more about the Black men and boys who have lost their lives to police violence.

1. Gershun Freeman

Gershun Freeman, 33, died Oct. 5, 2022, inside Shelby County Jail after an encounter with his jailers in Memphis. 

A 13-minute-long edited video released by the Nashville District Attorney’s Office shows officers handing out meals to inmates. When officers get to Freeman’s cell, the video shows Freeman lunging at officers and nearly a dozen officers trying to subdue him. In the video, Freeman can be seen getting kicked, punched and paper sprayed repeatedly by officers. 

According to the autopsy summary, Freeman suffered cardiac arrest while he was restrained and his death has been classified as a homicide.

2. Darryl Tyree Williams

On Jan 17, Darryl Tyree Williams, 32, was violently arrested by Raleigh Police in North Carolina. During his arrest, he warned officers about a heart condition fearful that the arrest could complicate his condition. But officers didn’t heed his warning and repeatedly tasered him before he lost consciousness. Williams would later die in the hospital.

According to Yahoo, Williams was in the driver’s seat of a vehicle when officers conducting a proactive patrol approached the Black man. The incident obtained by AP states that officers noticed an open container of alcohol and marijuana in the car and asked the occupants to step out.

The report also says that an officer decided to arrest Willians after finding a dollar bill with a “white powdery substance consistent with the appearance of cocaine” during a strip search. But the bodycam video, which was released by police, tells a different story.

In the video, Williams can be seen telling officers about his heart condition, then asking “Why are you all doing this to me?”

3. Alonzo Bagley

 Alonzo Bagley, 43, was shot in the chest by Shreveport officer Alexander Tyler after police responded to an alleged domestic disturbance call.

After receiving the complaint, officer Tyler and his partner arrived at Villa Norte Apartment Complex around 11 p.m. to investigate the call. When the officers encountered Bagley, he allegedly jumped from a balcony, trying to escape on foot. 

Authorities then say that’s when officer Tyler saw Bagley round the corner of a building. Tyler then fired one shot, hitting the unarmed Black man in the chest. Bagley was given CPR and then taken to a hospital where he later died.

Louisiana State Police Superintendent Col. Lamar Davis told the public during a recent press conference that the incident was recorded on police body camera, and will be made public, though his timetable for the release was vague. Davis has asked the public to “remain patient as we continue to conduct a very thorough investigation.”

A spokesperson for the family told KSLA, that the incident started when a neighbor called the police because the music was too loud in Bagley’s apartment. He went on to say that Bagley and his wife were both inside the apartment when police came and at some point, Bagley did run from the police before he was shot.

The family has also hired attorney Ron Haley, whose clients include the family of Ronald Greene, a Black motorist killed in 2019 by Louisiana state police. 

4. Anthony Lowe

Anthony Lowe, 36, died in late January after officers from the Huntington Park Police Department chased him while he fled on the stumps of his legs, video footage recorded by a bystander shows.

The Los Angeles Times reported that Lowe was “holding a long-bladed knife” during the slow chase last Thursday. The rate at which Lowe was fleeing did not appear to be fast enough to elude officers. Still, they opted for lethal force after they claim the deployment of a Taser was “ineffective.”

A 30-second long clip posted on social media showed Lowe scurrying away from a wheelchair as the police pointed guns at him. While the footage does show Lowe motion as if he was about to throw the knife — and the officers do flinch — it never appeared as though the officers’ lives were under a direct threat.

Police said in a press release that Lowe was shot in the “upper torso” and pronounced dead on the scene.

The Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department’s homicide unit is investigating the shooting.

Huntington Park Police Department officers are not equipped with body-worn cameras, so the bystander’s video is crucial to the investigation.

Police claim officers responded to a call reporting a stabbing by a man in a wheelchair.

5. Tyre Nichols

On Jan. 7, Tyre Nichols was violently arrested after Memphis PD suspected him of reckless driving.

According to MPD, “a confrontation occurred” after officers approached Nichols, who “fled on foot.” A second unspecified “confrontation” occurred when MPD tried to take Nichols into custody, police said.

“Afterward, the suspect complained of having a shortness of breath, at which time an ambulance was called to the scene. The suspect was transported to St. Francis Hospital in critical condition,” MPD said of Nichols, who died Jan. 10 at the age of 29.

Police body camera footage, which is expected to be released this week has been called “disgusting and “damaging.” Some city officials believed the video is so bad that police officers involved should prepare to face criminal charges.

On Friday, the Memphis Police Department (MPD) fired the five officers involved stemming from their roles Jan. 7 when, according to the law enforcement narrative, Nichols was suspected of reckless driving. MPD said “a confrontation occurred” after officers approached Nichols, who “fled on foot.” A second unspecified “confrontation” occurred when MPD tried to take Nichols into custody, police said.

Three fire department employees were fired and 13 police officers have been disciplined after the death of Tyre Nichols. Five former police officers have been charged with murder.

6. Takar Smith

On Jan. 2, Takar Smith, 45, was shot and killed by two LAPD officers after he raised a 10-inch (25-centimeter) butcher-style knife above his head during an altercation with officers. Before using lethal force, police also used a stun gun and pepper spray.

According to AP, Smith’s wife called the police to enforce a restraining order against him but warned officers that her husband had been diagnosed with schizophrenia and had not been taking his medication. She also warned of his aggressive nature telling the dispatcher, “He’s not in his right mind.” 

Instead of calling for a specially trained mental health team, LAPD took an aggressive approach and approached Smith with their weapon drawn. After a 15-minute altercation with police, Smith became increasingly manic and incoherent, grabbing a knife from the kitchen counter. Officers yelled at Smith to “drop the knife,” pepper spraying then tasing him until he fell to his knees pleading with officers to “get away!”

Smith then picked the knife up he a dropped after being stunned and lifted it above his head. Two officers then fired seven shots, killing Smith on the scene. 

7. Keenan Anderson

On Jan. 3, Keenan Anderson was tased and killed by Los Angeles Police after a traffic accident led to a police altercation.

According to the LAPD, when officers arrived on the scene, Anderson was acting erratically and was running in the middle of the street. The officer began to talk with Anderson and called for backup to conduct a DUI investigation. 

Officials said once more units arrived, Anderson started to get nervous and began to flee the scene. 

That’s when, “officers struggled with Anderson for several minutes, utilizing a TASER, bodyweight, firm grips, and joint locks to overcome resistance,” the LAPD said in a written press release.

But body camera footage, which was released this week, paints a picture of a scared Black man pleading for help as officers overwhelm him from all angles.

Video from the arrest shows officers struggling to detain Anderson and tasing him for more than 30 seconds straight before an officer pauses and then tases him again for five more seconds.

Once Anderson was detained and arrested, he was transported to a local hospital where he went into cardiac arrest and was pronounced dead.

Anderson, who is the cousin of Black Lives Matter co-founder Patrisse Cullors, was a dedicated high school teacher and father. His tragic death has sparked outrage in the community as family and friends demand justice and accountability for his death. 

“My cousin was asking for help, and he didn’t receive it. He was killed,” Cullors told the Guardian after watching LAPD’s footage. “Nobody deserves to die in fear, panicking and scared for their life. My cousin was scared for his life. He spent the last 10 years witnessing a movement challenging the killing of Black people. He knew what was at stake and he was trying to protect himself. Nobody was willing to protect him.”

8. Derrick Kittling

A local police officer shot and killed a Black male driver who was allegedly unarmed for reasons that were not immediately disclosed. Video footage recorded at the scene includes one account that claimed the Rapides Parish Sheriff’s deputy behind the shooting in the city of Alexandria shot the driver “in the head.”

The driver was ultimately identified as Derrick Kittling, 45, whose brother is a high-ranking official in the Louisiana State Police department, which is the law enforcement agency tasked with investigating the shooting.

Kittling was shot and killed on Sunday afternoon, but details beyond that are unclear.

Local media reported a narrative provided by law enforcement that described Kittling as the aggressor.

The graphic footage showed an apparently lifeless body lying on a street as the still-unidentified police officer who shot him rummages through the trunk of his cruiser. The officer then goes over to the body and begins putting on handcuffs, according to bystanders who could be heard speaking on the video.

“He ain’t have no gun or nothing,” a voice can be heard saying as the camera pans across the scene. “He just shot that man in the head.”

9. Jaheim McMillan

Jaheim McMillan died on Oct. 8, 2022, after being taken off life support more than two days after a police officer gunned down the 15-year-old over suspicions he was armed, according to the law enforcement narrative. McMillan was one of five young teens in a car that was reported to have threatened drivers by waving guns when police arrived outside of a local Family Dollar store on Thursday. The police presence prompted two people in the car to flee, leaving behind McMillan and two others.

During a press briefing, Gulfport Police Chief Adam Cooper said “McMillan was armed” and did not comply with orders to drop a gun.

“McMillan turned both his body and his weapon toward the officer,” Cooper continued. “The officer fired at McMillan,” striking the teenager.

Eyewitnesses have said McMillan did not have a gun and complied before he was shot once in his head.

10. Ali Osman

Police in Phoenix, Arizona, killed 34-year-old Ali Osman while he was in the throes of a mental health crisis on Sept. 24, 2022. The killing sparked outrage from the city’s Somali community, according to the Phoenix New Times.

Police said Osman was throwing rocks at officers’ cars.

“Commands were given for the man to stop. He did not; that’s when the officer involved shooting occurred,” Phoenix police said in a statement.

It was later determined that Osman was not armed with any weapons.

due to post size restrictions, please click the header image to access the original story complete with photos and information

[throwaninkpot]

I do think Darryl and Henry engaged in the sexual intercourse across the driver's and passenger seat of Odyssey-san once at least.

Had to drive a Honda Odyssey for work.

[oceandeviancy]

Stuck in the Fog (BadBoyHalo x Male Reader)

Title: Stuck in the Fog

Pairing: BadBoyHalo x Male Reader

Originally Posted: Wattpad, 2021

Scenario: You two were on a road trip but end up getting lost

---

There was no one else on the highway. Only one lonely car with two very confused people. They were going on a road trip but it wasn't going all to plan. Both of their phones were dead and the rain hit hard on the windshield, blinding the driver.

The passenger was groaning as he was irritated, bored, and hungry. He didn't want to snack on the few cheap muffins they had gotten at a gas station hours ago, before the rain even started. He wanted to say something but didn't know how to break the silence after so long of being quiet.

They've been dating for just over a year but sometimes it could feel like they just started as sometimes their trust in each other wasn't great.

They met through, obviously, Minecraft and it took a few years of knowing each other to say anything.

"Darryl?"

"Hm" he said, not really listening.

"Do you mind if we stop?" (Y/N) asked, starting to tense up.

Darryl turned to his partner and seeing his clutching onto his leg, could see (Y/N) was uncomfortable. He had a fear of the fog, which never made any sense to Darryl but he wasn't going to question it.

He nodded.

He pulled to the side of the road and put the car into park.

"Hey, are you okay?" Darryl asks, places his hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder.

He doesn't respond. Instead he stares at the fogged up windshield, shaking. (Y/N)'s breathing was getting faster and the tears started to form in his eyes.

"(Y/N)" Darryl says, concerned, "Look at me"

He does. Darryl sees the tears start to roll down his face.

"Are..." he chokes out, "Are we lost?"

Darryl had to admit that, since his phone had died, he had no way of knowing the real direction. The signs on the side of the road were almost impossible to read since the weather had been so bad.

"I-" Darryl didn't know what to say.

"Are we lost?" He asks again.

It was painful for Darryl to watch his boyfriend in this type of pain. The last time he remembers himself being this way was his flight to (Where you live).  He does not like planes. He does not like flying. He will drive, even if it is a long distance trip. He is always prepared too.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)" he says, looking at the rain.

(Y/N) groans.

"I really am. This is my fault. I should've been more prepared. Should've brought a portable charger, checked the weather, stopped a long time ago!"

"Yes. It is your fault"

What? He's actually blaming me?

"What do you mean?" Darryl says, surprised.

"It's just as much of your fault as it is mine...We both weren't prepared"

Oh my goodness. He's not actually blaming me.

"I'm assuming we're staying here?"

Darryl smiled.

"We can use the blankets and jackets to cover the windows. I'll keep the car on for as long as I can but we're going to need gas to continue once the rain clears."

"Thank you" (Y/N) relaxes and climbs over the arm rest to get into the back seat.

Darryl follows.

"Well, I can think of one good thing" he says once he follows (Y/N)

"Hm?"

"I'm stuck in the fog with you and not someone else. That's 1,000 times better"

[angomyleggo]

I was working on the animatic for the 1st dndads ep and as soon as Glenn gets in the car, I had to stop and think, Where does everyone sit?? Like I always imagined where the dads seats were but I never thought about where the kids sat at 😅. Like the Honda Odyssey 2013 only has up to 8 seats. They’re are nine characters in this car, not including Paeden who joins later. Trust me, coming from a large family, shoving a bunch of people in one car is second nature but Darryl always felt like the type who wants everyone have a seatbelt. So my head cannon for the first ep is that Nick, immediately hops in the far back past the third row seats while Darryl’s not looking and Darryl just assumes Nick has a seat.

Honestly, after the first ep. I don’t think Darryl would care to much about safety rules compared to what the dads experience later on. But here is how I imagine the usual car layout.

1st row: Darryl (driver) and Glenn (always calls shotgun)

2nd: Ron (likes a window seat), Terry, Grant (they both game together)

3rd: The oaks (with occasionally Henry in the middle to separate the boys when they get rowdy)

Hatchback/trunk area: Nick (just chillin)

Bonus: Paeden sits wherever he fits and change seats all the time to sit by someone new.

Bonus bonus: just found out that the odyssey can have a sun roof, which means Glenn definitely does climb though to chills on top of the car (Darryl does not approve but Glenn does gas it up so it’s called even)

[anagentinwriting]

Lifeline - Part 2

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~2900

Warnings: Elevators, Angst

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Steve POV

“The 911 operator I was talking to had this great idea to use the hose to pull the little girl across the water to get her out of the pool,” Steve reminisced, sitting at the big island in the kitchen watching Sam cook.

“Dude, I was there, remember,” Sam replied.  “And hasn’t it been like a week since that happened?”

“Yeah, but it was such a clever idea. I didn’t even know they could see the whole house on their monitors.”

“Who cares! It’s probably some fancy technology not available on the market yet, but if I'm hearing this correctly, it sounds like she popped Stevie’s dispatcher cherry,” Bucky joked behind him.

Steve peeked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Bucky. “My what cherry?”

“You know when you talk to a dispatcher on the phone while on scene. Danvers takes those calls most of the time, but every once in a blue moon, one of us takes it.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows. “Who was the operator?”

“Um...YN.”

“Oh, my sister,” Thor announced in a deep voice, patting him on the shoulder and taking the stool next to him. “She is very intelligent.”

“Wait, you have a sister?” Steve asked, widening his eyes at him.

“I have two sisters, while one half-sister, but we don’t talk about her because she’s the worst,” Thor answered with pursed lips. “YN is the best though, I like to think she got the brains, I got the brawn, and well, I guess, that makes Loki the beaut of the family.” He nodded with a half shrug. 

“Are we still talking about how Rogers popped his dispatcher cherry,” Carol smirked, walking into the kitchen with Valkyrie. Steve felt his face heat up as he tried to say something, but she held her hand up. “It’s okay! Everyone remembers their first time,” She winked, forcing him to shake his head.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Steve held up his hands in surrender, trying to hide the blush on his face.

_____________

You swiveled back and forth in your chair, waiting for the next call to come in. You had a half-hour left of your twelve-hour shift, and you needed a girls' night out. Living with your brother and Darryl was both a blessing and a curse. They offered you a place to stay, rent-free when you first moved here, but the amount of testosterone in that house was sometimes too much for you to handle. You tapped your fingers on your desk when your line started ringing. You sat up, letting out a deep breath, and pressed the spacebar.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello,” a male voice replied.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m making a turkey and was wondering what the internal temperature has to be?”

“You do know it’s against the law to call with a fake emergency, right?”

“Yes, but this is an emergency.”

“No, it’s not, so get off my line.” You hung up the line, shaking your head. Right away, another call came through, and you answered it. 

“911, what’s your emergency?” 

“Hi, hello. My friends are trapped in the elevator. The elevator must have snapped or something because there was this loud bang.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“The Natural History Museum. Please hurry!”

____________

Steve sat in his unassigned assigned spot at the dining table, eating a late lunch with the team. It was the cardinal rule at Station 107: Work as a team and eat as a family. Steve never thought he'd be able to find another firehouse he enjoyed working at, considering his previous teammates and friends at his old one. He hated leaving them behind, but he needed a fresh start, and so far, Station 107 was the best second home he could ask for. 

Everyone brought something to the team as every firehouse did.  Captain Danvers, or Ace as she preferred to be called in the field, brought her confidence and experience, which made for a great leader they could trust and rely on. Thor had his strength and his bravery, but he did have an ego. Sam was a great motivator and could keep everyone on task while still cracking jokes. It was no wonder Sam was the head EMT at this firehouse. Valkyrie was a badass and wasn’t afraid to put people in their place. As for Bucky, Steve knew he would always be there for him till the end of the line. 

The loud alarm blaring throughout the firehouse pulled Steve out of his stupor. Everyone knew what that sound meant, and they were ready to tackle whatever it might be. One after another, they slid down the firepole, pulled on their gear, and hopped in the truck, heading towards the scene. It wasn’t unusual to take calls that didn’t involve fire because whoever could get there the fastest was better than no one showing up at all. 

Thor hopped behind the driver's seat of the fire engine, pulling out of the garage. Carol sat beside him, giving him directions while speaking with the dispatcher through her headset. The sirens were wailing with Val and Sam behind them in the ambulance. 

“Alright, boys. We got an elevator crash at the Natural History Museum,” Carol said into her helmet mic after speaking with dispatch. “Dispatch says three students and their pregnant teacher are inside.”

“What’s the plan, Ace?” Steve asked into his helmet mic, concealing the siren blaring in the background. 

“I have contacted the museum's elevator technician, and he has already locked and tagged the power on the cars. The car sits near the basement level, so we will approach from the top in the lobby. I want Thor on the winch…”

“Ahh---what,” Thor interrupted her.

“Calm down, big guy, you can have the next one.” She gave him the side-eye, making the rest of the crew chuckle. “Steve and Bucky are going to do an immediate retrieval and approach from the top. Sam and Val will set a perimeter and then treat those who come up. Then, I will help with the retrieval, and Thor with the winch,” she stated with the last part dripping in sarcasm.

“It still hurts,” Thor added, taking a right at the intersection.

Once on-site, everyone grabbed their gear and took their positions.  Steve and Bucky strapped on their harnesses and helmets, switching on the flashlight. They started scaling down the elevator shaft from the lobby as Thor lowered them on the winch with the retrieving rope.

“How we looking, Steve?”

“Sexy, but not like we are trying too hard, but it’s more kind of effortless.” 

“Yeah, I mean, have you seen Steve’s ass in that harness. It could be American’s Ass or more like LA’s Finest Ass,” Sam commented with a whistle, echoing in the shaft. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Steve landed on the top of the elevator, unhooking himself while Bucky did the same.  “I’m down and unattached.”

“That’s what she said,” Carol responded with her head appearing in the shaft.

Thor chuckled, shaking his head. “Classic.”

Steve rolled his eyes and used his other flashlight to find the hatch on top of the elevator. He unclipped the lock, opening the hatch door, seeing the top of the lights. “I’m Fireman Rogers, please move towards the buttons. I’m going to kick the light out, so we can get you out of there.” It took a few kicks, but once it fell through, a few faces peeked up at him.  “How are we doing in there?”

“Oh my god, thank god, you’re here. I thought we were gonna die,” one of the kids replied, clutching his phone in his hand.

“Calm down, Flash. Everything is fine,” the pregnant woman reassured. “Right?” She looked up at Steve with worried filled eyes, and he nodded.

“Watch out, I'm coming down.” Steve crawled down into the hatch, and Bucky passed him the spare harness.  “Ma’am, you’re going up first, but first we need to get you strapped into this harness, then we’ll pull you up.” She nodded, trusting him, and allowing him to put the harness on her before Thor used the winch to pull her up.

“Okay, boys, who's going to go next?”

“I’m next,” the one they called Flash stated.

“Okay, then, how about you with the cool hat.”

“Thanks, it gives me confidence,” the kid smiled.

“And then, you,” Steve pointed to the kid wearing a Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt.

“Um...yeah--” he nodded a little too much. “--Yeah...I can go last. Get everyone else to safety first.”

“Perfect.” Steve clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

___________

It turned out to be a quick rescue, and no one suffered any major injuries. Steve took some gear out to the truck and started repacking it when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned around, noticing the kid in the Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt wrapped in an ambulance blanket. 

“What can I do for you, kid?”

“Peter. Peter Parker. I’m...I’m Peter Parker.” He held out his hand, and Steve shook it. “I just wanted to say thank you...thank you for saving my teacher and my friends back there. We’re on our school trip from New York, and this was an adrenaline rush experience.” Peter held up his hand, and Steve noticed it shaking.

He chuckled. “It will wear off.”

“It felt like that opening scene of that old action movie. Where John Wick saves those people that were trapped in the elevator after the bad guy tried to blow them up with a bomb. They don’t catch him obviously because it’s the opening scene, but later he puts the bomb on the bus, and that Bird Box lady has to keep driving like fifty-five miles an hour, or the bus will blow up.”

“I know the one. I think you’re thinking of Speed, but I don’t think it’s that old.” 

“Yeah, yeah, that one,” he chuckled, pointing his finger at him. “It’s kind of old, I mean you’re kind of old, so it’s kind of old to you, but to me, it’s kind of new because I’m not that old.” He rambled on, his eyes widening, realizing what he was saying. 

“Peter, come on. The museum is going to show us some never before seen stuff because we almost died,” the kid with the cool hat shouted from across the street. 

“Coming, Ned,” he yelled back. “Thanks again, Fireman Rogers, and sorry about calling you old. I didn’t...”

“It’s okay, kid, I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Steve watched Peter run back over to his friends with a smile on his face. It was these moments when he loved his job, watching friends and families reunite after a tragedy. It was these moments where he felt like it could almost fix what he lost. 

______________

You sighed, taking a seat at your usual spot at the end of the bar in Happy’s Hydrant. Happy noticed you right away and smiled, giving you a bottle of beer. You thanked him with a nod, taking a sip, and scanning the crowd. It wasn’t unusual to spot a familiar face, considering this bar was created for the heroes of Los Angeles. It welcomed all those members who served or are currently serving as first responders, but civilians were welcome, too. It’s nice to have a place to go with people you could relate to and share similar experiences with after working a twelve or twenty-four-hour shift. They understand what we go through on a day to day basis. It was one of the many reasons Happy Hogan wanted to open this bar after he retired from his Fire Chief position at Station 12.

You swiveled back and forth on your bar stool until someone familiar on the other end of the bar caught your eye. You stopped moving, your eyes not wavering from the man. Your mouth went dry, hearing your heartbeat thumping in your ears. You gulped, feeling your palms start to tingle as the muscles in your legs start to tighten. Every nerve in your body was firing, telling you to run, but it felt like if you moved an inch, he would see you, and these past three months would’ve been for nothing. He glanced your way for a brief moment, and relief flooded your whole body. You relaxed, squeezing your eyes shut as you took a few deep breaths in and out. It wasn’t him. 

The weight of someone touching your shoulder makes you jump off your bar stool, and turn around to see one of the ladies you were waiting for.  “Hey, it’s only me.” Carol held up her hands in surrender, giving you a reassuring smile. “Sorry, I forgot how jumpy you can be.”

“It’s okay. Lost in my head again.” You nodded, returning to your barstool.

“Thanks for giving my transfer a chance to be the shining star of my squad last week.” She nudged your side, flagging down Happy for a drink.

“Your what...with what,” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“The pool, the hose, the little girl stranded on a floaty with the water electrified. Ringing any bells?”

“Ohhh, right. That one.” You took a sip of your beer. “Fireman Rhodes or was it Ronin?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.” You pointed the neck of your beer bottle at her and nodded. “You made quite an impression on him. He can’t stop talking about it, and it’s getting really annoying, but I guess you did pop his dispatcher cherry.” She nudged your side with an ever-growing smile on her face. You rolled your eyes at her, shaking your head. “And if single you is interested, I am sure he is willing to mingle. At least, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not ready to start dating. I’m still trying to find myself after going through a terrible six-year marriage.” You gave her a half shrug, eyeing the bar. “When I am ready to date again, all I want is a nice guy.”

“Steve’s nice.  Hey, you should swing by one day before your shift and meet him,” she winked, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“I haven’t even filed for divorce yet.”

“Wait--” she turned on her stool to face you “--hasn’t it been three months? Why not?”

“I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

“Doesn’t he know where Thor lives?”

“No,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Let's just say he didn’t take much interest in my life while we were together. Besides, I don’t think he'd think I’d go to Thor with how everything turned out the last time I went to him for help.

“What an asshole.” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her beer, and you nodded.  “Well, at least you know you have an admirer,” she added, making you scoff.

“Hey ladies, sorry I’m late,” Natasha greeted, taking the other stool next to you. “Clint and I checked out this noise complaint a neighbor called in. And it turns out this guy was serenading his ex-girlfriend with hopes to win her back. It was this whole thing, and we wanted to stick around to see what happened next.” 

“So what happened,” Carol asked with curious eyes, wearing a mischievous smirk on her face.

“It was crazy.” She shook her head, letting out a breathy chuckle. “She came down and punched him in the face. Apparently, this dude cheated on her with, wait for it--” she drummed her hands on the bar countertop “--her brother. It was a twist I didn’t see coming, but talk about drama on duty. Sometimes I think it would be easier fighting fires or answering phones all day.”

“Oh please, Nat, you wouldn’t last a day. You would miss seeing the excitement first hand. Over the phone, you don’t get much excitement,” you replied.

“Speak for yourself,” Carol added, taking a swig of her beer. “You would love my job, Nat. You get to boss men around.”

“I kind of do that already. Besides, I don’t think I could leave Clint. He’d be lost without me,” she smirked, signaling Happy to make her a martini.

Natasha oozed confidence, which came off as intimidating to most women. When she walked into a room, all eyes were on her, but it was attention she chose to ignore. When men would buy her drinks, she'd take it to another lovely lady. Nat was all about lifting and empowering women to feel confident in their own skin. She wasn’t afraid to tell people to back off or shut up. She was the role model you wish you had when you were with him, then maybe you would've had the confidence and courage to leave sooner. 

“Here you are, Nat?” Happy pushed the martini glass to her. “Are you ladies still good?” He asked, pointing to the drinks in front of you.  

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks, Happy,” you smiled at him as he walked away, shooting you a thumbs up. 

“How is apartment hunting going, YN?” Nat asked, taking a sip of her martini.

“Good, I found this cute little condo a few blocks away from work. It has a modern feel to it, but I think it would be perfect for me,” you described. “I loved it when I saw the pictures. The landlord is out of town right now, but she told me it’s mine if I want it.”

“I’m so excited for you,” Nat squealed, squeezing your forearm. “You need to get out of that testosterone-filled house and get on your own two feet again.”

“Yes, you do,” Carol agreed. “What’s your softie older brother going to think of you leaving?”

“I’m going to have to break it to him slowly.”

__________

AN: Thanks for reading part 2! I hope you all are liking it so far! If you caught it there was a quote from Brooklyn 99 that I thought was too good not to put in! 😂 Also, Darryl Jacobson, if you don't remember him, he was Thor's roommate in those Marvel shorts. I thought he would be a fun and entertaining addition to this story! Also, any ideas as to why Steve left his old firehouse? Did you enjoy the little Peter Parker cameo? And what do you think Thor is going to think of her moving it? Comments always welcome, thanks again for reading! 

[formeandmyfics]

Jugenea Fan Fiction

NEVER FORGET

For being on two different chapters in the book of life, they’re on the same page

(photo credit @ohmygarlands)

1943

Judy watched him.

In the bright sunshine, across from her trailer, Judy sat in the passenger seat of her personal studio golf-cart, waiting for Mickey. As she did so, she became mesmerized at the scene in front of her: Gene roughhousing with a bunch of studio kids. They all laughed and ran around him, even jumping on his back. It made Judy smile.

As she watched him, images of last night took over her mind, as she disappeared into a daydream. Back from filming Girl, Crazy in Palm Springs, it was their first time back together. They ended up spending the night in his trailer, as hers would be too suspicious. She was watched like a hawk. They planned on dinner at her house and catching up but didn't quite make it that far. Judy giggled to herself. Her amusement soon spread into butterflies as her body now remembered last night as well. Ecstasy was the only word that came to mind. Encounters with Gene were always amazing and fully satisfying, fun and sexy, but last night Gene acted somewhat different. Intense.

There he was, in front of her, playing with a bunch of children, like a big kid himself, when last night he kept making her come over and over. He did something beyond explanation to her body. There were times he'd go from devouring her like candy, to scanning his eyes around every part of her like she were a Monet painting, to fucking her so ardently her voice skipped, then tracing her skin with his finger like it was a delicate rose. Judy's cheeks warmed. She tried to focus but again, her mind wandered to early this morning as well.

She sat up in the small day bed at the back of his trailer, her hair tousled, hugging her knees to her bare chest. He hadn't noticed her awake yet as he stood by the small window looking out as he sipped his coffee just in his shorts. The amber glow of the morning sun hit his muscles like shadows, so much definition she could feel still feel them on her finger tips. His arms especially, looking so strong. He handled her so well. God, he looked so damn sexy, and he didn't even know it. She had bit her bottom lip, smiling bashfully. When he turned his head to her, she lowered her face behind her knees, her penetrating eyes only visible, telling him of her thoughts. When he smiled mischievously, that was it. He never did finish that cup of coffee.

"Judy!"

Judy flinched a bit as she was brought back to reality, but smiled wide at a friend walking on by. She waved back and then caught eyes with Gene. He was looking at her indifferently, the kids still playing around him. She kneaded her eyebrows a moment, haven't seen him look at her like that before, when a little boy jumped on the back of his back again interrupting their moment. Gene laughed and ran, the boy going piggy back. Judy didn't know why, but thoughts of Gene's family entered Judy's mind. When she was away, she had kept up with the entertainment section of Hollywood. Gene and Betsy had gone to a lot of parties and premieres together, and looked very happy. There was even a picture of Betsy looking at Gene adoringly as he held his daughter in his arms outside their house. Their marriage had been rocky there for a while, like hers had been with Dave, but it seemed anything but right now. Judy knew one thing: she was in-love with a man who was not willing to leave his family, and here she was, separated, living alone and ready to have fun. They were just not on the same page anymore. She didn't want to distance herself form him, but it was the healthiest thing to do. But, then here he was, her best friend, best lover, making her feel things no one else could again. It was frustrating.

"Why the long face," Mickey asked as he got into the driver's side.

"Just some things on my mind. Let's go."

"Hold on. Gene!"

Judy watched as Gene put his finger up to Mickey signaling a minute.

"What are you doing?"

"I invited Gene to tag along and watch us do the 'Can You Use Me' retakes."

"Why," Judy asked a little anxious now.

"Because he said his recording got re-scheduled. And he was already here. What's the problem?"

"No problem," Judy forced a cheery voice as Gene came strutting over.

"Hop on, buddy," Mickey said and Gene hopped onto the seat behind them, "Here we go."

"Don't you two look cute," Gene teased at their costumes.

"Brooks Brothers," Mickey teased back as they rolled through the lot.

"And yours," Gene asked Judy.

"Chanel," she said monotoned but obviously being sarcastic.

"She wears a lot of pants in this film. I think it's a disgrace."

"Why, because we filmed in 112 degrees," she commented.

"No, 'cause you got a hellava pair of stems on ya, honey. I think you should show 'em, right Gene?"

"You know me, Mick, I'm a leg man, myself. And Judy's got the best pair I've ever seen."

"Can we please stop talking about my legs?"

"Why? What's got into you," Mickey asked a little concerned. He knew she loved her own legs, her greatest asset other than her voice, and found it confusing that she actually sounded annoyed.

"I'm just tired," she said softly, dusting invisible lint off her costume pants.

"I wonder why," Gene said in more of a statement than a question. Mickey didn't detect any difference in Gene's voice but Judy did, and she looked at him slyly over her shoulder.

The disdain of her look at him made Gene's smile quickly go away and he was the one furrowing his brow now.

"So, uh, how was filming in Palm Springs," he asked changing the subject.

"Hot as hell."

"You're the one that wanted to have a filming 'vacation', darling."

"Well, I didn't know it would be the devil's layer. We had sandstorms too."

"Did you really?"

"Yeah, we had to shut production down for a few days. Judy took advantage of that, didn't ya, Judes," he said elbowing her flirtatiously.

"Be quiet, Mickey," Judy warned.

"What, you're single now. This one ran off with her new boyfriend."

Judy quickly looked at Gene, who looked unfazed, and then placed her hand up to her head embarrassed.

"She missed the first day back. You know who was PISSED, but she said it was worth it, if ya know what I mean," he laughed, "Can't blame her. She needs to have some fun again, right Gene?"

"Right," he simply stated.

"I can't speak any differently. When Ava and I started going together, I missed some days, too. Shit happens."

Judy was silent the rest of the ride.

"And CUT! That was amazing, guys. Print that. Judy, honey, Mick, take a break while we set up the camera for a different angle," replacement Director, Norman Tourag, shouted from a distance.

Judy plopped into her director chair and her assistant handed her a glass of water with a straw.

"That's a fun scene," Gene commented as he pulled up his seat next to her.

"You're still here," she giggled before taking a sip of water.

"Nothing better to do. Besides, I like watching you work. It's much easier to do when I don't have to be in the scene."

"What do you think?"

"I think it's fun. You sure look like you're having fun."

"I really am."

They were both silent a long moment when Judy started feeling antsy. There was tension energy between them and she didn't like it.

"Gene, what Mickey said earlier about..."

"Joe," he interjected. She looked over at him wide-eyed and he went on, "I know."

"How do you know?"

"Word travels fast around here...even from Palm Springs." Suddenly, Judy's face looked like she had many questions, but before she could speak, he took her hand, "Let's talk. But not here."

He looked completely calm and unfazed which baffled her,  but also made her relax, "Okay. Um, I'm going to Ciro's with a few friends tonight to see Lena sing."

"What time are you going?"

"10."

"I'm doing pool with some fella's tonight. I'll just meet you at your place after. What time do you think you'll be back?"

"I'll come home around 1:30 or so."

"Sounds good," he said and patted her leg before getting up, "Tell Mick I said bye and thanks for the invite. You look beautiful by the way."

As Judy watched him walk away, she smiled. With just a simple comment like that from him, her confidence boosted ten-fold which she knew would radiate on screen. It always did.

Gene was absolutely content. He was laying in Judy's hammock in her backyard. It softly swayed with the summer evening wind, her rose bushes filled his nostrils as crickets chirped and the water from her small fountain pond added to the ambience. It all reminded him of her. He wanted to stay there forever but knew that couldn't be done.

"There you are," he suddenly heard her voice above him.

"Here I am," he spoke before opening his eyes.

"How long have you been here?"

"Oh, about twenty minutes. Pool ended early. You know how much I love it out here. Thought I'd catch some sleep before you returned."

"Sorry to cut your nap short," she replied as she carefully got onto the hammock with him. He adjusted to accommodate her and she immediately snuggled into his side.

Gene checked his watch, "It's only midnight. Why are you back so early? Weren't having fun?"

"I was...until the Trifecta walked in."

"No," he said shocked.

Everyone involved in the studio system in Hollywood knew the 'Trifecta' referred to the three Presidents of the three most popular studios: Louis B. Mayer, of MGM, Darryl Zanuck of Twentieth Century-Fox and of J. Cowdin of Universal.

"Yeah."

"Since when the hell does Mayer go out to nightclubs?"

Judy nodded, "That's what I was thinking, too."

"And since when the hell do all three of those men get together? They're like sworn enemies."

"Gene, you should have seen everybody. It was hysterical. They practically emptied the joint. Everyone left."

"They probably planned that so all their players would go home to sleep so they're not late to film the next day."

"It was very strange to see them walk in together, all chummy."

"Well, maybe they're planning on taking over the world."

Together, they swayed gently, enjoying each other's warmth and comfort. Gene suddenly regretted that he invited himself over so they could talk, as he was enjoying the silence, but then she spoke.

"Are you angry about me spending time with Joe?"

Oh, she wanted to talk, too.

"Did I give you that reaction?"

"That's not an answer."

Gene opened his eyes to find her head lifted, looking at him nervously.

"No, I'm not angry. I don't have the authority to be."

"What do you mean?"

"We're not exclusive. I'm a married man. You're single. So, you had another summer rendezvous. It is what it is."

"Are you jealous?"

Gene couldn't help but chuckle. He knew she wanted him to be, but she also knew he was, "Of course. I'm very protective of you honey."

"Is that why you were the way you were last night, because you heard about me spending time with another man?"

"No, but the way I was how?"

"Just...intense and almost desperate," judging by his confound expression she went on, "I enjoyed it so much, I don't have to tell you that, but it felt different. It was almost like it was the last time."

Gene just stared at her a moment before licking his bottom lip anxiously as he sat them up.

"That's because it kind of was," he didn't dare look at her, "I mean, in the months we've been apart, Bets and I have been getting along better. It's almost like how we were in New York. And we're enjoying each other with our daughter. I've seen you go and enjoy yourself with another man, as you should. It's your God-given right as a soon-to-be divorced woman. I just thought, you know maybe it was a good time for us to distance ourselves from each other ...um, physically right now."

Judy knew this was a serious conversation, but how nervous he was made her nerves instantly disappear. She actually giggled. Her giggle alerted him though, and he finally looked up at her with wide eyes as if she were about to start a fight.

"You know, darling," she giggled again, "For two people who are in different chapters of life, we're on the same page. Throughout the summer, I saw pictures of you and Betsy out and about in magazines, and with your beautiful baby, and even though we hadn't talked, I knew things were better for you. And I felt happy for you. I actually couldn't believe it. I thought, my marriage ended and now yours is getting better. I should have been jealous. But then Joe came around again, and I've been having a lot of fun with him. It was then that I thought maybe since we are in different circumstances now, that maybe we should focus on our own futures apart...for now at least. I don't really want you to go away."

"I'm not going anywhere. As a friend, and companion, you're it for me baby. And as a lover...well it's never off the table. There's something between us, some type of connection, I can't quite explain, but I know it's a lifetime worth."

Judy smiled and leaned over kissing him, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, "Last night, I gotta confess, I also wanted to make you never forget how I made you feel."

Judy's eyes reflected off the moonlight as she looked at him impishly as she stood up. She held her hand out for him and he took it, standing up.

"Where are we going?"

"You got your last time last night, now it's my turn."

He stopped yanking her hand abut. She turned and wrapped her arms around his waist, her chin raised as she smiled up at him. His crows feet deepened as he smiled wickedly, "What are you going to do?"

"Make you​ never forget how I made you feel."

She raised up on her tippy toes and have him a peck on the lips before walking towards her patio door. Gene stood there a sec, completely transfixed, and aroused, by the sultry voice and implication she used.

Turning around, noticing he wasn't following, she looked at him with raised eyebrow, "Come on, let's go."

When she disappeared through the door, Gene felt his erection harden, and he let out a naughty chuckle before following her inside.

[starrysupercell]

Road trip headcanons part 1. I'm not currently planning on doing all of the Trios/Duos/current loners, but I have a couple of ideas for a few more groups. Just wanted to post this now for you guys since there's some downtime rn. So okay, here we go.

_______

Wild West Trio:

Drivers: Shelly and Colt, interchange

Backseat: Spike

Colt likes playing those roadtrip games. License plate ones and ABC signs. Sadly, when he drives he can't really focus on the games. Shelly isn't always interested no matter who's driving too, and even when she's the one driving, it's difficult to play with Spike bc, well. The Cactus is mute. [Tfw when he points out a 'high point' sign but nobody sees him. :,)]

When Shelly isn't contemplating life and looking out the window though, they do talk and joke a lot. Spike enjoys his time with them, even if he sometimes feels he can't partake, Shelly and Colt make sure he feels welcome.

Favorite time to drive: Late morning to Afternoon.

Most hated event: car arguments (sad, uncomfortable stretches of tense silence. Nobody is happy.)

___________

Retropolis Gang:

Driver: Bull.

Crow usually sits up front, but ocassionally Bibi does. [maybe when she's older. Driving lessons coming up soon?]

Bull l o v e s driving. The wind rushing by, the ambient chatter between his friends, the control of the road. (His car means a lot to him, so sharing his favorite area is amazing.)

Crow's very weary of other cars, but Bull's a talented driver and he can trust him enough to react in time. (This took time though- he used to be a such a backseat driver.) Now, what used to be him on his own (he likely used to ride a motorcycle) is comfortable silence with his friends/family.

Bibi enjoys the calm atmosphere. Very, very relaxed. Whether tunes are blasting, or the only sounds are the late night bugs and tires rolling smoothly on pavement, this is one cool ride she enjoys being on.

Favorite time to drive: cool evening/night

Most hated event: sudden rain (it takes like 30 seconds to put the top up and a doused Gang is not a happy one)

_______

Graveyard Fam:

Driver: Usually Mortis

Emz always in the backseat and Frank usually in the passenger seat.

Things can sometimes be tense with Emz's flash photography reflecting off the rearview mirror and distracting Mortis, Mortis' constant chattering and cackling annoying Frank, and Frank's grumpy disposition offputtng Emz... but when this family starts to get along they have fun! Frank stops being a grump and puts on a great song (he puts on some random one, but Mortis and Emz encourages for one of his great originals, which he complies with cheerfully.) Mortis loves the songs and quiets down, Emz puts down her phone or starts recording the mood, and they all have a good time together.

Favorite time to drive: midnight

Least favorite event: early morning road trips (none of them are early birds and its absolute misery)

_________

Pirate Crew:

More of a voyage than a road trip. When the Pirates are out at sea for days or weeks, they're all dandy at at first- they love each other and they love the sea. Shanties, cooperation, and jokes aplenty! Dinners together....

But then boredom, restlessness and the stale feeling of seeing each other gets to them. Darryl's a little more snappy, Penny gets into more trouble, and Tick is more stubborn too. Just that ol' family fatigue. Once they return or get to the island they were aiming for, it's better. Fresh air and solid land is what they needed (and other faces, if it is a return to the Park.)

Favorite Time: Windy Days, full speed ahead! (The real treasure is the journey there or something)

Least favorite: rainy days.. with haphazard wind. The necessity to constantly adjust the sail makes it the worst chore.

[ma-lark-ey]

((Remember that brief post I made on Lark(?) getting sick? Yeah here's a whole chapter. But this time its angsty))

CW; for sickness, mentions of vomit, dry-heaving, minor panic attack description, spoilers for Episode 39-40. Theres some Oakson if you squint, I dunno if that counts at a trigger,,, but yeah

Henry couldn't remember the last time Lark was the twin to get sick. He had such an impenetrable immune system he thought he was incapable of the thing. But here he was, fixing Lark a bowl of soup while he laid on the couch under a fuzzy blanket.

"Here, Birdie. Don't eat it too fast, alright?" He brushed Lark's bangs back and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Sure, his boy was nearly fifteen, but no child is too old for a sweet forehead kiss.

That usual fire Lark had boiling in him was dessimated by his case of some virus, and instead of his usual extravagant response to Henry, he just nodded.

"When's Ma gonna be home?" He asked, pushing himself to sit up enough to eat comfortably. His eyes looked like a raccoons, deep dark circles around them, sunk and dull. His skin was pale and lifeless. He could pass as a vampire. And that's his the boys went, either they were perfectly healthy, or they nose dove into being couch bound for a week.

"Somewhere around seven, she's bringing dinner. But, I may have to leave here soon. I have a meeting for something. You think you'll be alright by yourself for a little bit?" Henry hated the thought of leaving his boy when he was so vulnerable. Anything could happen in two hours. Especially with how quickly Lark's health could plummet. Last time one of them got sick, Sparrow was fine Friday morning and by Sunday evening they were taking him to urgent care because he had fluid in his lungs.

"I'll be fine, Dad." Lark set his half eaten bowl of soul on the coffee table, snuggling right back down into his blankets. "Hey, could you go get me the plush on my bed? The- the Pichu one."

"Of course, Lark. I'll be right back." Henry stood, making sure Lark was cozy in his blankets and went to grab the stuffed animal. It was rare the twins had toys un-destroyed as kids, but that Pokemon bear Nick had gotten Lark as a birthday gift when they were six? That thing always stayed perfectly in tact.

He picked the old, well-loved toy up off the bed. He could see the stitching on its ear where Sparrow had accidentally ripped it when they were seven. Lark cried for hours, wouldn't talk to Sparrow for thirty whole minutes over it.

The young granola-crunching dad trotted back downstairs. Lark was laying limp on the couch, breathing short and shallow. He looked horrid. Henry's going to have to cancel his meeting, he knows that. He's not leaving Lark alone when he looks this bad. Henry should recheck his temperature.

He set the Pichu down in the gap between Lark and the back of the couch, placing his palm on his forehead. God,,the kid felt like fire.

Lark gagged suddenly, throwing the blankets off himself and grabbing the pot he kept on the floor next to him. The soup he'd just eaten came right back up, he sat there, hunched over, crying and dryheaving for a good five minutes. Henry rubbed circles in his back and tried to soothe him. But, Lark couldn't even keep water down anymore. Henry knew he was dehydrated, and he didn't know what to do anymore.

Lark let out a sob, leaning into his dad. Henry held his boy against him, not daring to give a gentleman sway like he usually would.

"It hurts... Everything hurts..." He whimpered. He sounded so small, which wasn't a way Lark Oak-Garcia should sound.

"I know, baby. I know." Henry reached for thermometer he'd been keeping on the coffee table. He pulled it out of the protective case.

Lark looked at him, his eyes looked so tired. He opened his mouth and let Henry put the device under his tongue. It took a minute, but the thing beeled and Henry checked.

106.7. Oh hell no. Oh heeeell no.

"Get some shoes on, Lark, we're going to the emergency room." He said quickly, pushing himself to his feet and going to grab his keys, phone, wallet, and own shoes.

"Dad, I'm fine, I-"

"You're temperature is one hundred and SIX! That is not fine! Get some shoes!" Henry felt his hands started to shake. No, not now. He felt that familiar crushing feeling of his chest caring in on itself. Not now. Stupid panic attack disorder.

"Dad, really, itll go down in the hour I'm-"

"Lark Oliver Oak-Garcia, do not argue with me on this please, we are going to the emergency room and thats final. Now put on your shoes!" He knew he snapped, but he was freaking out. He didn't know anything about his stuff. In the Realms, when someone was this sick you'd cast a healing spell and bada-bing bada-boom, hes fine! But this isn't the realms, and there isn't magic! He pressed trembling fingers to his temples, trying to ease himself out of the coming panic attack before he really got consumed in the anxieties. He needed to be Dad right now, not Henry.

He looked around the room, listing off things he could touch or hear or see. Just like Mercedes had taught him.

Deep breath in.... Deep breath out. Its good. Lark's good. Focus on getting him to the doctor.

Henry snatched his keys and phone off the table, grabbing his wallet from the counter in passing and shuffling to get on his Birkenstocks.

Lark was shuffling awkwardly to the door, holding his Pichu plush. He looked nauseous just standing, but both Henry and Lark knew there was nothing left in his system to come back up.

Henry helped him into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt, leaning it back so he wasnt sitting straight up and making himself light-headed. Then, he got himself in the drivers seat and pulled out of the driveway, handing his phone to Lark.

"Call your brother." He said sternly, eyes focused on the road as he moved to the urgent care clinical as fast as possible. Of course Lark listened, and Sparrow came through the Bluetooth of the car.

"Hey, Dad. What's up? How's Lark doing?"

"Hi, Sparrow. Letting you know, Lark's fever is almost 107, so we're going to the emergency room. Don't know when I'll be home, you can stay with one of the boys, or stay at home. I don't care. Mom's gonna be home around seven."

"Uh- oh! Okay. Um... Okay. Thats- okay, Dad. Is he okay? Just a high fever?" Of course Sparrow immediately sounding absolutely terrified.

"Don't panic,,Lark's good. He's just... He's low on fluids, his fevers high. I'll send you plenty of updates, promise. But, I gotta let you go cause we're here and I need to get him in. I love you so much, Sparrow."

"I... I love you too, Dad. And Lark. I- okay. I'll probably stay at Terry's."

"That's fine, call me when you get there, okay?"

"Okay... Bye."

"Bye, Sparrow.

------------

Henry paced the waiting room. Its not that they were doing anything major to Lark, just running some standard health checks and getting him settled in a room for the night. But, your pride and joy, your beautiful son whom you love more than life itself being in a hospital room without you? Terrifying. Fucking terrifying.

Darryl had arrived about five minutes ago, and was currently trying to get Henry to stand still.

"Darryl, Darryl, darling, you're wonderful but you really need to shut the fuck up. If I sit, I will stop the adrenalin rush and when I stop the adrenaline rush my thoughts start going-"

"Henry-"

"and that means my brain turns back on and when my brain turns back on, it means I'll probably have a panic attack and I really don't want to have one right now,"

"Henry!"

"at this moment, because for the love of god, Darryl, I need to know when my boy is okay and I can't know when my boy is okay if I have a panic attack because then I won't be able to-" Darryl grabbed hold of Henry's shoulders and stared him right in the eye.

"HENRY!" Thank god he finally got him to stop going down the rabbit hole, it took Henry long enough. He stared the other father in the eyes. His mind stopped for a moment. Just a moment. But it was a long enough moment.

Darryl knew the tears were coming before Henry ever showed signs of beginning to cry. He pulled him into a tight hug and just held him there, in strong arms.

"Its okay, Henry. He's fine. Just a high fever and some dehydration. He'll be fine." Darryl promised him.

------------

And, Darryl was right. Lark was fine. Henry freaked out over nothing. Late that night, Lark was discharged again. After his fever went back down and they gave him fluids.

It was now well past midnight, and Henry was exhausted. He got his just as tired son in bed, tucking him in and making sure the pichu was tucked in Lark's arms. He gave yet another forehead kiss, turning off the lamp.

"Goodnight, kiddo. Hope you feel better in the morning."

And, Henry dragged himself back to his bedroom, where Mercedes laid already asleep. He changed into a pair of pajama pants and crawled in next to her. Like her sixth sense, she rolled over to use Henry as some kind of large teddy bear like she did everything night. It was so nice. He took a long, deep, satisfying breath and settled into his pillows. His eyes became heavy, and he fell asleep faster than he had in years.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Kill Bill (Tarantino, 2004)

This review contains spoilers.

I recently watched a Taiwanese exploitation movie called The Lady Avenger. It’s a rape revenge movie that isn’t overtly artful by any means, but plays with a real urgency (likely helped by the production circumstances, which I’m guessing were pretty marginal). But in between the punchier moments we associate with exploitation, it finds room for notes that catch us off guard, lingering on images and emotional beats that seem at odds with the uglier content that preceded it. It’s a dynamic not entirely impossible in respectable cinema but seems endemic to exploitation, where the exploitative, outrageous content that gets asses in seats creates the contrast necessary for the moments of depth to land. I bring this movie up because seeing it so soon after a rewatch of Kill Bill brought my thoughts on that film into focus. Kill Bill seems more clearly now than ever to me an exploration of that very idea, founded by a belief that the movies it’s pulling from are in fact good movies and not just sources of cheap thrills.

Of course, thrills are in ample supply, particularly in the first half, which threatens to overwhelm us with the surface pleasures of genre cinema. We get the glimpse of the inciting incident, the heroine’s (Uma Thurman) wedding shot up by her former comrades, and then a lightning fast two hours of high style and splatter (the movie doesn’t even slow down enough to give her a name; she’s known only as the Bride), culminating in an epically violent fight scene in which the heroine takes on dozens of henchmen, systematically chopping them to pieces, and then facing their leader (Lucy Liu) in a one-on-one showdown in a snowy garden. The reference points are numerous and on full display: Shaw Brothers, Lady Snowblood, the Lone Wolf and Cub series, but Tarantino treats this set piece like a plaything, scoping out the location as if it were a dollhouse with roving overhead shots that move to the rhythm of the music of the 5.6.7.8′s. The music changes to Morricone, and soon he begins gleefully smashing his toys together to wreak havoc. (I assume Tarantino had a few Kung Fu Grip G.I. Joes, or at least a Snake Eyes.) His love for these influences doesn’t overwhelm the sheer thrill of the combat itself, which he depicts in a mix of lush colour, black-and-white and silhouettes, shifting from one technique to another as if the heroine is leveling up through a video game and keeping the audience guessing as to both what flourish and what giddily violent act he’ll serve up next. The film on the whole isn’t the most authentic exercise in grindhouse style he’s made (that would be Death Proof), but this sequence does offer his most full-bodied interpretation of said pleasures.

The second half decelerates from this manic pace and begins to unpack what transpired. We revisit the opening massacre and learn that the heroine actually has a name. She’s moved from archetype into actual character, and we get a sense of the wounds that led to and came out of that fateful event. There’s a training sequence, where Gordon Liu (who previously appeared as a commander of the henchmen the heroine slaughtered in the first half) plays the Pai Mei character he once battled in Executioners of Shaolin, and aside from being enjoyably stylish, this scene really buys into Lau Kar-Leung’s idea of kung fu as self improvement, marrying martial arts with character development. Throughout this, Tarantino challenges us to identify with the characters’ motivations, both the heroine and her nemeses, and to question the extent to which we derive mindless enjoyment from the proceedings. The Bride’s killing of the Vivica A. Fox character in the first half is juxtaposed uneasily with that character’s daughter walking in on them. Yes, Fox wronged her, but she too has loved ones and a life not without value. She meets a smooth-talking pimp (Michael Parks, in another neat bit of double-casting), but his capacity for cruelty quickly comes into focus when we glimpse the mutilated face of one of his prostitutes.

In probably the most affecting passage of the film, we spend time with Bud (Michael Madsen), Bill’s brother who has now retired as an assassin and works a demeaning job as a bouncer for a strip club. This formidable killer is now reduced to haggling for shifts and cleaning up overflowing toilets. There’s something poignant seeing him so defeated, even when Tarantino makes no excuses for his failings (he’s the only one in the film to use a racial slur, which like in Reservoir Dogs is used as shorthand for a character’s flawed nature), and his confrontation with the Bride finds him re-energized, if not necessarily more likable. There’s little warmth however in the character of Elle Driver (Darryl Hannah), the eyepatch-wearing assassin who may be most unapologetically cruel of the film’s characters. (Lucy Liu’s character in the first half is similarly vicious, but the film shows it to be at least in part out of necessity.) Yet her disgust at Bud’s unceremonious method of trying to kill the Bride rings true to the movie’s heart. These characters may hate each other, but there is a twisted sense of honour between them and a respect for each other’s true natures. The confrontation between the Bride and Elle Driver also features a gruesome shot of a bare foot squashing an eyeball, which suggests Tarantino, a notable foot fetishist, challenging even himself on his mindless enjoyment of this kind of thing. (Either that it’s doing a lot for him.)

When the Bride finally reunites with the eponymous Bill (David Carradine, bringing his entire history in genre movies to imbue his character with a certain depth), she finds him to be loving father to her daughter, who survived the opening massacre, and to be full of remorse. How much should we really cheering for her to kill him? This movie doesn’t have the political conviction of Tarantino’s subsequent films, but it does share with them a sense of morality so severe that it can’t help but draw out the discomfort in carrying out a quest for revenge. Tarantino has frequently mined pop culture to add meaning (my favourite example is a fairly succinct one: Bruce Willis finding courage and honour through a samurai sword in Pulp Fiction), and here he has the Bride bond with her daughter over Shogun Assassin, another film about a parent-child relationship in a world of great violence and cruelty. Bill gives a speech about Superman that summarizes the themes of the film in one monologue.

“Superman didn’t become Superman. Superman was born Superman....You would’ve worn the costume of Arlene Plympton, but you were born Beatrix Kiddo, and every morning when you woke up, you’d still be Beatrix Kiddo. I’m calling you a killer.  A natural born killer.  Always have been, and always will be.”

Ultimately Kill Bill is about grappling with one’s true nature, both the characters, ruthless killers despite how they rationalize it, and the film, an exhilarating exercise in and shrewd deconstruction of exploitation.

[electricxmayhem]

When It’s Time

Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies

Relationship: Oakson

Word Count: 5,339

Authors notes: There’s a lot of gen content in this because I accidentally thought too hard about the plot and also I’m afraid of intimacy. Please just pretend the action was more drawn out and realistic. Also if the writing of this seems un-American I’m sorry I’m...not American. 

One

‘Did anyone think for even a second that this might be a terrible idea?’

‘All our ideas have been terrible, Darryl. This is our best shot right now.’

Trudging around yet another unfamiliar town was wearing on everybody, and the long day had only been made longer by Darryl’s mood. He had been a little extra crabby since his split with Carroll, which would have been understandable were the other dads not so on edge. 

‘Can someone else take Peter?’ Ron asked, shifting his shoulders under the weight of Paeden fast asleep on his back, ‘He’s heavier than he looks.’

‘Give him here.’ Henry rubbed his eyes and reached out his arms to take the exhausted boy. But before he had him, something caught his eye and he turned suddenly. Ron let go of Paeden’s legs and the boy fell hard into the dirt, startling himself awake.

‘What the fuck?’ He spluttered.

‘Oh my gosh, Paeden, are you okay, buddy?’ Henry fussed, pulling Paeden up and dusting him off while he squirmed indignantly. 

‘Yeah, I’m fine, I can take a hit.’ He sniffed, ‘What happened though?’

‘Oh, I think I just saw the sign.’

‘For the fortune teller?’

‘Yeah, come on, this way.’

Relief bringing a burst of energy, everyone followed Henry to a faintly glowing eye-shaped symbol carved into a wooden sign. Below, in similarly glowing letters the sign said ‘OPEN’. Below the sign was a small tent made of heavy red material.

Glenn reached out and knocked on the door. Nothing happened.

‘Did you just try to knock on a curtain, Glenn?’

‘Look, I’m really tired okay.’

‘Hello?’ Henry tried.

‘Enter.’ Came a creaking voice from inside.

Shrugging, the dads piled into the tent, shepherding Paeden ahead of them. Disappointingly, the tent was no larger on the inside than it was on the outside. There was barely room for 4 and a half people to squeeze in facing the woman sitting at the table within, commanding the room despite her small stature. She smiled at them in silence for what felt like minutes before Henry spoke up again.

‘Uh, are you the Seer of-’

‘Silverman? I certainly am, Mr Oak.’

Henry laughed delightedly. ‘Neat!’

‘Hey, Siri, what’s my name?’ Ron pushed forward.

‘You’re Ron. And my name is not Siri-’

‘Siri, call me uh, Adam Sandler.’

‘............No.’

Darryl waved his hands in the air.

‘We’re getting off track. Ma’am we’re here to-’

‘Let me guess. You vowed to take on the beast in order to gain the favour of Lady Lockwood, so that she might grant you an army to assist you in your raid of Castle Ravenloft.’

‘Uh, yes.’

‘So what do you want from me?’

‘Seems like you already know.’

‘I know a lot of things, Darryl, but I do hate a one-sided conversation. So come on, ask me nicely.’ The old woman leaned forward and clasped her hands under her chin. Her gaze was unnervingly bright for her wizened face.

‘We heard you might be able to give us some clues on the beast, see what we’re up against.’

The Seer chuckled. Drawing back a sheet of velvet she revealed a perfectly smooth crystal ball in the center of the table that glowed softly in the low light. Everyone leaned in.

‘You should know, first and foremost,’ The old woman hummed, ‘That I work for Lady Lockwood. I am forbidden to give you information like that.’

The dads groaned.

‘But!’ She continued, ‘I have one offer. For a few seconds I can allow one of you to see one day into your future. Whatever this reveals may offer you some...foresight into your battle.’

Darryl looked around at the other dads. Everyone seemed to be nodding. Paeden’s head was nodding too, in and out of sleep. 

‘I’ll do it.’ Darryl nodded firmly. 

‘There will be a price…’

‘No worries.’ Glenn held up a heavy bag, coins jingling as he did, ‘We’re good for that.’

‘Well, then, let’s begin.’ 

Without warning, the candles in the tent extinguished, leaving everyone blinking in total darkness. Small, cold hands found Darryl’s and he felt the cool curve of the crystal ball under his palms. Anticipation tingled through his arms.

And then suddenly he was somewhere else. His eyes fluttered open and low candlelight spilled in. He could still feel the hard wooden stool of the tent under him, but out of the corner of his eye he could see that he was reclining on a large bed with a thick blanket. It was kind of hard to see anything else, though, because it seemed like something was pressed against his face. He could hear movement and-

Oh God.

He was kissing someone.

Someone was sitting on his lap and he was kissing them.

Shocked, Darryl was vaguely aware of his shoulders moving to run his hands up the other person’s back.

‘Ow!’ The person recoiled suddenly, wincing in pain. Barely breathing, Darryl stared dumbly at the other person. At Henry. It was Henry and he had been kissing Henry and it’s not like he hadn’t thought about it but nothing had prepared him for it actually happening. There was no way this was right. He must have been in someone else’s vision-

‘Sorry! Sorry, I forgot-’ No, that was definitely Darryl’s voice. Those were definitely his arms, wrapped in bandages, moving frantically, touching Henry’s arms, his stomach, his hips-

Laughing, Henry grabbed his fussing hands gently by the wrists. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay! You were distracted.’

Henry was wearing an unfamiliar silk shirt with his old cargo shorts, which looked cleaner than Darryl had seen them in a while. He followed his future self’s awe-stricken gaze up to Henry’s flushed face, and watched as Henry’s hand reached out to brush his forehead. Finally, he heard himself take a breath to say something-

And his vision went black.

Darryl blinked in the darkness, a little shell-shocked, as the Seer gently moved his hands off the crystal ball. One by one, the candles in the tent lit themselves again, and in the flickering light the other dads were leaning in expectantly, searching Darryl’s face for clues. Paeden was sitting on the floor, dozing against Glenn’s leg. 

Darryl nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Henry’s hand on his shoulder.

‘Whoah, Darryl, are you okay?’ Henry threw his hands in the air, looking worried.

‘It is something of a harrowing process, seeing one’s future,’ The Seer assured the room, ‘It may take a few seconds for him to adjust.’

Darryl massaged his forehead and turned to look at the others. Somehow he couldn’t quite bring himself to look Henry in the eye.

‘Sorry, sorry guys, I’m fine it’s just...that was weird.’

‘So what’d you see?’ Glenn prompted.

‘Did you see the beast?’ Ron added.

‘I was...in bed.’

A look of collective disappointment shot around the room.

‘Well hold on! It was a big bed in some kind of fancy room, and I had bandages on my arms, and Henry had some kind of sore back or something.’

‘How do you know Henry had a sore back?’

‘He was in there too.’ 

The others took this pretty easily. Sharing rooms and beds had become a pretty familiar sleeping situation during their time in this world.

‘Well!’ Glenn shrugged, ‘That’s what we get for doing this at night.’

‘No, wait, are you kidding?’ Henry cut across, ‘This is amazing! If me and Darryl are hurt, but we’re resting up in a fancy room, that must mean what he saw was after the battle! Now we know whatever beast we’re up against, we win!’ 

Darryl put this together. Not only was the fancy room most probably in Lady Lockwood’s house, but despite their injuries they were obviously strong enough to…

Well, they couldn’t have been that hurt anyway.

Glenn placed the bag of coins on the Seer of Silverman’s velvet covered table, and Darryl gave her a firm handshake which she returned with surprising force.

‘Before you go,’ She spoke up ‘Let me see the boy.’

Groggily, Paeden stepped forward, and the Seer fussed over him, holding his hand and pinching his cheeks.

‘I just love children.’ She cooed, ‘How old are you young man?’

‘Eight.’ Paeden snuffled.

‘And so brave for your age! Tell me, little one, how would you like a gift?’

‘Hell yeah.’

‘Paeden, come on, use your manners.’ Henry said.

‘Oh, that’s quite alright.’ The Seer smiled, and turned to pull something from the darkness behind her. ‘I’ve got something I know you’ll enjoy.’

A glint of metal shone in the candlelight and Paeden’s eyes widened.

‘A sword!’

‘Mmhmm, a sword named BeastSlayer. It’s just a name, but hopefully it will bring you luck. Do you like it?’

‘Yeah, it’s boss. It’s fuckin’ sick.’

‘Paeden!’ 

 ‘We should go,’ Darryl told the old woman, ‘But thank you for your help.’

She returned his shifting gaze with a knowing smile. ‘You’re quite welcome.’

And, pushing through the curtains into the clear night air, the dads headed back to the van, led by Paeden swinging a massive sword with reckless abandon.

Two

Darryl had always been a light sleeper, even at the best of times, but tonight he’d given up entirely. Knowing he needed to rest up for the fight tomorrow did nothing to quiet his racing mind, and his heart beating fast in his chest just would not let him sleep. He sat in the upright drivers seat and just stared out the window at the city walls. 

He thought about the first time Henry had kissed him. It had been to shut him up, but it hadn’t been mean. It had been rushed and desperate but comforting too. He’d felt guilty about the feelings that had stirred in him, cursed the butterflies in his stomach for making something out of what had been nothing but a peacekeeping move on Henry’s part.

What he hadn’t considered before was that there had been plenty of times that Henry had wanted Glenn or Ron to shut up, too. But he only ever kissed Darryl. 

Tomorrow, Darryl knew, he was going to have to fight and defeat something mysterious and threatening. He knew it was going to be hard, and that it was going to hurt him and his friends. And still he was more scared of the fact that he was in love with Henry Oak.

As if on cue, Darryl heard stirring from where Henry had been sleeping moments before. He cringed silently to himself and waited for Henry to inevitably notice him sitting up.

‘Darryl?’ God, his sleepy voice at that moment was almost too much .

‘Mmhmm.’

‘What are you doing up?’ Henry whispered.

‘I could ask you the same thing.’

‘To be honest with you,’ Henry climbed gingerly into the passenger’s seat, ‘I, uh. I swallowed my retainer a while back, when I was in bear form. So I’ve been kinda sneaking out at night and turning into a bear to try and, you know, pass it.’

Darryl blinked.

‘You swallowed...you had a retainer? And you haven’t- seen it?’

‘Nope! I hate to think what it could be doing to my insides. Never chewed gum a day in my life and this is what I get.’ 

Darryl chuckled and Henry smiled at him softly. Did he smile at him differently or was Darryl just reading into it too much? Was that just the way he’d always smiled? Or had he always been smiling like that?

‘You still haven’t told me why you’re up.’

‘Oh you know I just….  just got a lot on my mind.’

Henry reached for Darryl’s hand, which he shakily offered. Turning to face him, cross-legged, Henry turned his hand palm up and looked at it. Darryl shivered as Henry lightly traced his finger over the creases, stroking his fingers one by one.

‘Are you reading my palm?’ Darryl whispered, barely able to breathe.

‘Yeah.’

‘What does it say?’

‘It says I’m no psychic, but I just met one and according to her we’re gonna get through tomorrow, and I’ll be right there with you at the end of the day, sore back or not.’

Darryl closed his hand around Henry’s, squeezing gratefully. Glancing up, he saw Henry’s eyes searching his, open and honest, and he felt a crippling wave of guilt. There was no way he could tell Henry what he saw, but he felt awful keeping it a secret, keeping the image of Henry in his lap behind his eyes, even as he sat in front of him.

Darryl had the strange feeling of being a man caught spying in through the windows of his own house. Slowly, he let go of Henry’s hand and reclined his seat. Henry laughed almost silently as he watched him, before following suit and curling up in the passenger seat. 

‘What about your retainer?’

‘It hasn’t killed me yet. What’s one more night?.

Three

The next day dawned with the noise of false bravado, each dad secretly comforting himself with back slaps and battle cries, filling the morning with terrible jokes and tense laughter. Paeden enjoyed swinging his sword a little too close to people’s legs as they hiked towards the castle.

‘Paeden, I’m glad you like the sword but I think you should give it to someone else for the battle, okay buddy?’ Darryl suggested, ‘I don’t want you involved in the action.’

‘Why are you taking me then?’ Paeden huffed.

‘Well we can’t leave you on your own, someone might take you.’

‘I’d take them.’ He grumbled, swinging the sword in a low arc right next to Henry’s ankle.

‘Whoah! I need that!’ Henry was exaggerating his confidence as much as everyone else. Darryl could see that he was paler than usual, and he kept scratching at the skin around his fingernails. Looking around he could see that Ron’s forehead was sweaty and that Glenn had tied his hair back from his face. He only did that when he knew they were getting into some real shit.

The two guards at the castle door regarded them with undisguised judgement as the five of them approached. 

‘Hey fellas!’ Glenn waved an arm, ‘We’re here to take on-’

‘The beast?’ Said one of them, ‘Quite. You will see the lady. She is waiting for you.’

‘For some reason.’ The other one added, raising an eyebrow at each of them in turn.

Ignoring this, the dads and Paeden followed the first guard through the door into the huge entrance hall, and down through another door into a huge room with high stone ceilings and tapestries on the wall. In the center of the room stood a long wooden table, and at the end of it, in a high backed chair, was an incredibly muscular woman in a delicately embroidered tunic. She waved a hand for everyone to sit. There were notepads and pens at every chair.

‘So you are the brave warriors who have vowed to slay my beast.’ She looked skeptical. ‘I thought you’d be...I don’t know. Taller.’

‘We’ve got it where it counts.’ Glenn shrugged.

‘I don’t even know what that means.’ The Lady frowned. ‘Is the kid one of you?’

Paeden was drawing in his notepad. It looked like a drawing of himself with a six-pack.

‘He’s just tagging along. He’ll keep to the sidelines.’ Darryl assured.

‘Hell no. I’m fighting that thing.’

‘Maybe you should sit up in the box with me.’ Lady Lockwood patted his shoulder regally.

‘The box? Are you telling me you’re going to be spectating this fight?’ Henry asked.

‘Of course! Why do you think I have people challenge the beast at all? I just love a good blood sport.’

Everyone at the table looked uncomfortable. Suddenly, the Lady clapped her hands.

‘Shall we?’ And she swanned across the floor on legs like tree trunks, while four disgruntled dads and one disappointed boy stomped after her.

Outside the castle, the grounds had been surrounded with a large stone wall, encircling the lawn like an amphitheater. The features of the courtyard still remained; a few pleasant statues, a stone path, flower beds- but it was all overshadowed by a fifteen foot reinforced door set into the wall. No one could tear their eyes away from it. 

‘Well, this is where I leave you.’ Lady Lockwood smiled, one hand firmly on Paeden’s shoulder. ‘Good luck, warriors.’

‘Wait.’ Ron said suddenly, ‘Paeden. Give me your sword.’

‘No.’

‘Okay, thanks anyway.’

And just like that they were alone in the courtyard. Darryl could hear the other dads’ breathing in the tense silence.

‘Quick dad huddle?’ He suggested, and the others fell gratefully together, ducking their heads into the private space their bodies created. ‘Okay I don’t think we have much time so let’s just one-two-three-doodlers okay? One, two, three-’

‘Doodlers!’ Came the nervous response as everyone’s hands went up. Henry turned back to the door, and then back to Darryl.

‘Listen, before this kicks off, I just wanted to say-’

The ground shook. Slow, heavy footsteps echoed against the walls. Darryl tightened his grip on his hatchet and set his jaw. Then came the cry of Lady Lockwood, safe in her viewing box above them.

‘RELEASE THE BEAST!’ 

The door gave way, and standing in the courtyard was a huge, red dragon.

A dragon.

Oh fuck. 

For a second everyone just stood there, stunned. Then the dragon bowed its head and starting walking, covering too much ground with a single step. It took a while for all of him to come out of the door. 

Henry yelled indistinctly, and suddenly vines burst from the ground, wrapping around the dragon’s legs. They held for a couple of seconds, then they were torn apart like wet spaghetti, lying useless on the ground. Henry looked around desperately.

Already, Darryl had lost sight of Ron. He took this as a good sign.

Steeling himself, Darryl mustered all his strength and ran towards the dragon, hatchet raised. Uncertainty was beginning to grow in his stomach. Maybe that Seer woman had tricked him. Maybe they were going to lose and she had just shown him a fantastical image to spur him on. He aimed for the dragon’s face and caught the side of it as the giant reptile turned away. Strange blood wet his blade.

Darryl was still processing his own strike, catching his breath, when too late he realized the dragon’s head was swinging back in his direction, fast. He tried to scramble out of the way but before he could move the beast’s huge skull knocked the air out of his body, throwing him like a rag doll to the ground. Darryl’s lungs tried to make up for lost time as his head swam. Vaguely aware of the dragon leaning towards him, he dug his heels weakly into the ground. Tears of frustration filling his eyes as huge, awful teeth moved in-

Any breath Darryl had gathered was suddenly knocked from him again, but this time by something smaller and warmer than a dragon’s head. Henry rolled into the space between Darryl and the teeth, his back on Darryl’s stomach, and green poison sprayed into the dragon’s mouth. The dragon recoiled, shaking his head, and Henry was beside Darryl, holding his arm, checking his eyes.

‘Are you okay? Can you stand?’

‘Yeah.’ Darryl croaked, ‘I’m fine.’ He was well aware that the fight was far from over, and even as Henry helped him up, squeezing his hand worriedly as he did, he could see that the dragon had turned its attention to Glenn, armed only with wildly swinging nun-chucks.

A surge of adrenaline tightened Darryl’s grip on his hatchet as Glenn started running, and he moved to strike again, but quickly noticed something was happening. The dragon’s steps became short and unsteady, and its head whipped around in confusion, still oozing blood. With one final step, it fell in an indignant heap on the ground. Darryl couldn’t help but laugh when he saw two of the dragon’s legs tied together with four pairs of shoelaces. Ron stood up behind the heap of scales with a grin. Somewhere above them, Paeden cheered.

‘Hey, nice work, Ron!’ Darryl called.

Nun-chucks spinning, Glenn ran towards the writhing dragon and flailed at it’s jaw, resulting in a loud crack, and a strangled cry as he nutted himself on the rebound. The dragon snorted.

Little by little, smoke began to pour from its nose. Struck by fresh fear, the four dads slowly backed away. The smoke thickened as the dragon’s breathing got heavier, angrier, and with a ‘ping!’ the shoelaces snapped. The dragon was back on its feet. And it was staring at Henry.

Darryl swallowed. He hadn’t thanked Henry yet for stepping in when he was in danger, and there was no time like the present. Henry was standing with his hands out, fruitlessly trying to de-escalate the situation as flames started to lick the dragon’s lips. He moved, and the dragon followed, locked onto his target. And suddenly Darryl was between them, heart hammering, holding up his hatchet like it could provide any protection.

Henry’s hand found Darryl’s shoulder and pulled. 

‘Don’t you dare.’ He said as he pushed Darryl behind him, turning his back on the growing flames as he faced him. 

Time froze for a second as Henry’s hands cupped Darryl’s face.

‘Look,’ Henry rushed, ‘I know this is a bad time and I should’ve told you before, but I can’t die without saying I love-’

He was cut off as Darryl’s arms were flung around him in a vice grip, and not a second later flames hit them hotter than Darryl could have imagined. He wasn't sure if he screamed, he just focused on Henry’s head buried in his neck hard enough to bruise, and held his body so close he worried he could break it. Fire and desperation rang in his ears, tinted with muffled yells. Smoke filled his lungs.

And it was just smoke. Without warning the flames turned to black, choking, extinguished smoke.

He looked up. 

Glenn was wrapped around the dragon’s neck, kicking and yelling. The dragon’s head had dropped to the sooty grass, defeated.

‘FUCK YEAH!’ Glenn yelled, ‘I SLAYED THE FUCKING DRAGON!’

But Darryl was looking past him. Straddling the lifeless dragon’s back was Ron, and buried in the scales in front of him was the BeastSlayer.

‘Nice work, Glenn.’ He smiled genuinely. Glenn stared at the sword.

‘Yeah, I mean...you probably helped.’

From the box, Darryl could hear Paeden whooping, but his attention was turned back to Henry. His back, along with Darryl’s arms, was blackened. The adrenaline coursing through Darryl’s veins stopped him from feeling his burns as badly as they looked, but at least he could still feel Henry’s shaky breathing and bounding heartbeat against his own chest.

‘Henry?’ Henry didn’t move his face from Darryl’s neck. ‘Henry, we won. We did it, we survived.’

Slowly, painfully, Henry lifted his head. His tear stained face was still blank with horror. Darryl all but peeled an arm off Henry’s back to cup the side of his head. He leaned towards him, whispering into his hair. 

‘You should have let me protect you.’

Henry’s own hand covered Darryl’s as his brow furrowed.

‘Your job isn’t always to protect people.’

‘It kinda is.’

‘It shouldn’t be.’

‘Guys!’ Glenn yelled, ‘Come on bring it in!’

‘Can we maybe…’ Darryl felt the dull ache in his arms begin to sting, ‘Can we maybe have the group hug over here? And maybe don’t actually touch me?’

Henry disentangled himself from Darryl’s arms and turned shakily to take in the scene with a small shake of his head. Gingerly, laughing with utter relief, the four dads orchestrated a makeshift group hug as decorated guards marched out to escort them inside.

Four

The rest of the day was a blur. The dads were welcomed by an elated Lady Lockwood who quickly bustled them into the castle infirmary. Darryl spent his afternoon biting back tears as attendants washed and bandaged his burnt arms, and biting back embarrassment as they bathed the rest of him and laundered his clothes. Although he had to admit, his aching muscles had been crying out for a hot bath.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Henry. He hadn’t seen him since the fight finished, and everything had been so overwhelming he hadn’t had the chance to think. Well now he had way too much time with only his thoughts.

It was just...it had sounded like Henry was about to say he loved him. Loved him. Loved Darryl. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had told him they loved him. He had kinda resigned himself to giving out love and not getting it back. To protecting without being protected himself. 

Of course, he’d seen his future. Maybe it should have been obvious to him. But he had assumed that whatever happened would be Henry experimenting, or giving him what he wanted in celebration, or some weird fluke born from a rush of high emotion. It just hadn’t dared to occur to him that it could be something Henry had wanted too.

Henry wasn’t at dinner. A servant informed them he was on bed rest. Glenn and Ron were almost unrecognizable in new clothes fit for nobles, with washed hair and clean faces. Even Paeden had been dressed up, and was sitting at Lady Lockwood’s right hand side with pride. Darryl felt a little under-dressed, having opted for his newly cleaned polo shirt and jeans, but he couldn’t get into the spirit of celebration anyway. He was too nervous to eat, and ended up asking to be shown to his room early as the others laughed and drank.

The room hit him like a ton of bricks. Of course it was the room from the vision, but it still made everything feel frighteningly real. The red curtains, the heavy blankets, the low candlelight. He sat down to stop himself from pacing. How much time did he have before whatever was going to happen happened? Did he have time to go and pee? Did he even need to pee or was he just nervous? He stared at the candles for a second. They were only recently lit but had melted down a little already. If he wasn’t mistaken they looked pretty close to how they looked in the vision.

There was a knock on the door and the breath was knocked from Darryl for the third time that day. For a moment he was totally frozen.

‘Darryl?’ Henry’s voice came softly through the heavy door.

‘Yeah, uh, come in.’ Darryl called, and watched the doorknob turn and Henry appear in his room, dressed in a familiar silk shirt and his cargo shorts, clean apart from those stubborn iodine stains by the knees, freshly washed hair bouncing as he moved, glasses reflecting the candlelight. Darryl was a little entranced. 

‘I thought you were on bed rest.’ Was the first stupid thing out of his idiot mouth. Great job, Darryl. And they say romance is dead.

‘I’m supposed to be.’ Henry smiled, ‘But I wanted to come and see you.’

‘Well, sit down, take it easy. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, I feel way better.’

‘You look better.’

 Darryl moved his legs to let Henry get comfortable on the side of his bed, their hips parallel, close enough to hear each other’s breathing. 

‘I’m sorry-’ Darryl started.

‘Don’t.’ Henry cut him off, ‘Please don’t, just, let’s talk about anything else.’

Darryl took a deep breath to settle his nerves. He could feel Henry’s eyes on him as he looked at his hands.

‘Earlier. Before...this.’ He gestured to his bandages. Henry shifted his weight and nodded. Darryl noticed that he looked nervous, too. It wasn’t a look he was used to on Henry. ‘Were you about to say you love me?’

Henry looked very hard at the floor. Then he stared at the wall and sighed. Finally he turned his gaze to his own hands and stuttered ‘I-’

‘Just ‘cos I was wondering whether I should say I love you or I love you too.’

Henry’s shoulders dropped and his eyes widened. For a few seconds he just stared at Darryl, but there was no intensity in it, it didn’t hurt to meet his gaze. It was the stare of someone seeing something beautiful they hadn’t believed existed before.

‘I was.’ He whispered eventually, ‘I mean, I do.’

‘I love you too.’ Darryl smiled ever so gently and Henry softened completely, leaning forward stiffly to rest his hands on Darryl’s shoulders and leaning in as Darryl leaned in to him and their lips met like soot falling, soft and silent. 

Kissing Henry before had been exciting. Thrilling, unexpected, and forbidden. This time, it couldn’t have been more different. This time, Darryl let himself relax and melt into it, and his heart jumped as he felt Henry do the same, moving his hands from his shoulders up his neck and into his hair, taking breaks to smile against his lips. Darryl felt safe, trusted to take control as he gently took Henry’s glasses off, and lifted him carefully into his lap when he started slipping off the bed. 

This is a hell of a lot better with feeling Darryl thought as he appreciated the warm weight of Henry in his lap, and let his hands pull him closer by the hips, run up his back-

Wait, shit.

‘Ow!’ Henry recoiled suddenly, wincing in pain. Darryl floundered for a moment. How could he have forgotten? 

‘Sorry!’ He yelped, ‘Sorry, I forgot-’ As he frantically touched the unscathed parts of Henry, trying to somehow reverse his mistake.

Henry grabbed his wrists gently, careful enough not to disturb his wounds through the layers of bandage. 

‘Its okay,’ He laughed, ‘It’s okay! You were distracted.’

Darryl could do nothing but stare as Henry dropped his wrists. Looking up from his compromising position to Henry’s flushed face, smiling even after everything that had happened, watching the slight drag on one of Henry’s eyes without his glasses, he wasn’t sure how he could have possibly been this lucky. 

One of Henry’s hands gently brushed a loose strand of hair off Darryl’s forehead.

‘This is what I saw, you know.’ Darryl said.

‘What?’

‘This past few seconds. That’s what I saw when the Seer showed me the future.’

Henry’s face turned slowly into a shocked grin before he burst out laughing.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah!’

‘No wonder you were so weird about it!’

‘I was weird about it? Do you think the others noticed?’

‘Nooooo, they probably believe you. I mean we are alive, in a fancy house, and covered in bandages.’

Darryl relaxed.

‘You know I have two Darryl-arm-shaped patches of skin between the burns.’

‘Oh, God.’ Darryl laughed ruefully as Henry dropped his forehead to rest against his. 

‘Hey.’ Henry whispered. ‘Can I stay in here tonight?’

‘Are you sure?’ Darryl’s voice was slightly slurred by Henry running his thumb over his bottom lip.

‘I’m asking.’

‘Of course.’ 

With this, Henry kissed Darryl briefly one more time and crawled out of his lap onto the empty bed space beside him, where he lay on his front.

‘I’m just really tired.’

Darryl shuffled down until he was lying on his back.

‘Me too.’ He whispered. With everything that had happened, he would have done anything to hold Henry as they fell asleep, but with their injuries it was impossible. Instead he lay his hand, palm up, between them. Henry idly traced the creases with his finger, before folding his hand into Darryl’s. A gentle gust of wind through the room extinguished the candles.

Muffled by the pillows, Henry spoke up one last time.

‘You know, the others are going to figure out something happened.’

‘How?’

‘You told them I was in your bed in the vision. Now they know that we weren’t made to share they’ll know I must have sneaked in.’

‘Well, that sounds like their problem.’

Fin.

Authors note: This is not a songfic but the title is the name of a song which I chose for the lyrics 

‘All I want is you to understand

That when I take your hand

It’s ‘cos I want to.

And we are all born in a world of doubt,

But there’s no doubt,

I figured out

I love you’

[irwintry]

Hallmark Movie Love Story

Warnings: swearing (he’s a potty mouth in this one folks)

Author’s Note: Christmas BABy!!! this was originally titled “the great snowmobile wreck of ‘18 and the hallmark christmas movie love story” lmao and there’s not even a snowmobile wreck in the story but that’s why i liked it

Word Count: 6.7k

Luke could read off all of the delayed or canceled flights by memory. He had seen them flash on every monitor he passed on the way to his terminal. Meanwhile, unhappy flyers were rushing by him to be the first at the information desk. Their holiday was ruined for sure, but his wasn’t, and that was all that mattered to him. He couldn’t figure out how his flight was one of the only ones on time, though he wasn’t complaining.

Even when boarding, he couldn’t believe his luck. The cruel part of him wanted to run off of the plane and rub the whole ordeal in the outraged flyers’ faces. His complimentary booze called his name, so he stayed put in the comfortable first-class cabin.

The skies didn’t look all that well, and turbulence had picked up right when they reached cruising altitude. If Luke didn’t know any better, he would say that the pilots miscalculated the possibility of the storm hitting their flight path. It didn’t matter to him now– he was up in the air, and everyone else was stuck in New York.

Luke had finished his first mimosa when the pilot announced over the intercom that the storm had pulled north, blocking the flight’s path and therefore preventing it from going farther west. His heart fell as he stared out of the frost-coated window, his eyes barely catching an inch of land below the clouds.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let out a breath. Luke believed he had a fairly strong intuition, and he trusted his gut. Right now, his gut was telling him that things were not going to go his way. If only it had told him that before.

The pilot informed them that they were landing in a town that started with S, but Luke didn’t care enough to register the information. He would buy a whole plane for himself if it meant getting home faster. The other passengers couldn’t say the same. If some of them were cute and desperate, he’d consider helping them, but certainly not the man beside him who reeked of B.O. and the burrito he chose to eat for breakfast.

Luke needed to get off of the plane in order to think coherent thoughts.

The plane touched down before noon, and already, the runway was slick and icy. The snow had started to fall only moments prior, and Luke knew that if it had been raining, it would be coming down in sheets. To his dismay, this was only the tip of the storm.

Karma was most likely going to fuck him up the ass.

There were no flights leaving from the tiny airport, and by the time he were to get onto the highway with the help of a taxi, it would be an hour into the storm. The roads would be closed by then. Luke had no choice but to go into whatever town was nearby and find a place to stay, and he was not happy about it in the slightest. He made sure everyone knew it by the look on his face.

All of his muscles were contorted in order to make a convincing irate frown. His mother would tell him his face would freeze like that, his cheeks all bitten in and eyebrows tightened together. He missed her, he really did, and he would love to see her if it weren’t for the lovely Winter Storm Dalton.

The ride into town was a nightmare– at least, it felt like it was to Luke. The taxi driver seemed content with the conditions, claiming that “not even an inch” had fallen, yet the occasional glance back through the plastic divider sent Luke into a minor panic. The radio station was a constant loop of Christmas oldies, and he wanted to reach up there and punch the off button, but he wasn’t that rude.

Luke didn’t hate Christmas, but if he couldn’t spend it with his family, he’d rather not have the holiday whatsoever.

There were only two motels within miles of the town, both with shiny new non-vacancy signs hung brightly in the office windows, and Luke wanted to tumble out of the cab and die. He tipped the driver a hundred before having them drop him off in the center of town. Before driving away, the driver told Luke about a few places to hit in the town before leaving tomorrow. This caused Luke to snort because he wasn’t even sure he would get out tomorrow, and he certainly wouldn’t be visiting any local art gallery.

He knew he looked fucking ridiculous. Everything on his body was designer, including his hat and coat. Even his luggage would cost most of the citizens of this town their arm and leg. Meanwhile, his shoulders pained him, and the tension had crawled its way up into his temples. He needed coffee.

Luke wandered for what felt like an hour, but it was really only two minutes when he stumbled upon a decent-looking coffee shop named The Coffee Pot. The windows were fogged, and it reminded him that warmth did exist, just not on his body at the moment. He could tell his cheeks and nose were bright red, and his ears were physically hurting his head even more.

The door chimed on his way in, and out of the many times Luke’s presence silenced a room, this had to be the most uncomfortable. All conversations ceased, and the only sound reverberating through the all-too wooden interior was the faint drone of Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas”. He clutched his suitcase and started towards the counter.

“The west coast too warm for ya, son?” an older man shouted from the back corner, and Luke didn’t hesitate to glare at anyone who chuckled. “This ain’t Malibu, sweetheart.”

“Give him a break, Darryl, he’s probably tired from travelin’.”

Luke’s head snapped over to the counter where the next voice came from. Instead of finding another grumpy local, he found you, a soft and smiley barista that clearly would get on his nerves if he spoke to you long enough.

You were leaned up against the counter as he approached you, and you were still smiling as you asked, “what can I get ya?”

Luke wanted solitude. He wanted no one to speak to him ever again. But he also wanted the richest cup of coffee he could get in Buttfuck, New York. “Small coffee,” he muttered, already digging into his wallet for a few dollars. “Darkest roast.”

“Cream ‘n sugar?”

“No.”

“Okie dokie,” you said. “You can put the fifty-cents in the tip jar.”

Luke quirked a heavy, wet (from the snow) brow. “Fifty-cents?”

You nodded. “The coffee’s fifty-cents.” You had already poured the coffee into a to-go cup, and now you were standing with your arms crossed. Maybe Luke wasn’t the only one with an attitude. “Can I get ya anythin’ else?” A sigh followed your question.

“No.”

“Ya sure?” You smirked at him, and he didn’t like that one bit. “We got food. Airplane food’s not quite as good as my world-famous pressed paninis!”

Luke nearly snorted. You were annoying, yet funny. World-famous... he’d had world-famous, and he was positive you hadn’t even come close to knowing what it tasted like. “Got any salads?”

“Um,” you mumbled. “No, I’m– I’m sorry, we don’t.”

Great. Poor service and no salads. Luke wanted to get the hell out of this town. “Fine. Gimme a world-famous panini, then.”

“Oh!” You grinned, your entire body jumping as you leaned your elbows back onto the counter. “Which one? We got– “

He didn’t listen as you listed off the sandwiches, so when you stopped talking, he played the lottery and said, “the last,” before setting down his cash and walking away with his coffee. Luke was normally nicer than this, but his day had been so fucked up already, and he wasn’t terribly in the mood for talking to a cute yet chatty barista. However, he did feel guilty for not saying thank you.

Luke took a seat at a table by the wall adjacent to the counter. Every single one of your customers stared at him as he did so, but just as he opened his mouth to retort a snarky comment, they returned back to their conversations. They were more interested in his rich, LA vibe, and they definitely wondered why he was here instead of there. He would rather be there than here any day.

He winced as he took a sip of his coffee. It was watery like he expected. No good coffee is fifty cents. The person to his right had been staring at his luggage for a good minute now, which for some reason, pissed Luke off to no end. Every little thing that bothered him was heightened due to the incredulous turn of events of the day. It wasn’t even two in the afternoon.

The coffee sat idle as he began to scribble down his thoughts into a random journal he picked up in Munich just the other month. His life was too extreme for the people of this town. They wouldn’t last a day in his boots, nor would he want them to even breathe near his boots. Someone could glance at them and he’d spit.

Luke wrote for a while, his thoughts pouring out onto the handmade paper without even realizing that a hot unknown panini had been placed down right in front of his nose. Also, a few of his crumpled bills had been strewn beside it.

“Few dollars too much,” you said, your face expressionless as you prepared to back away. “This is Spruce Creek, not LA. The world isn’t as shiny as it seems.” And then you were gone, and Luke wanted to laugh.

Everyone here thought they were so philosophical– it killed him. He shoved the few dollars into his pocket before staring at the steaming sandwich. A growl emitted from his stomach at the sight of the pesto running down the crusty sides, and Luke didn’t realize how truly hungry he had been until he reached for the sandwich and took a great big bite. He nearly moaned at the warmth spreading on his tongue. If only the coffee had lived up to his expectations, then maybe he would give this place a little more credit.

Luke pictured you in a city like New York, but he wasn’t sure you could handle the hustle and bustle. You certainly didn’t belong in LA– you seemed like the type that thrived off of snow and hot chocolate. Plus, you also seemed satisfied with the community you created with this coffee shop. Everyone was speaking to one another as if they were longtime friends... everyone but Luke. He didn’t want to be friends with any of them anyway.

Time ticked away faster than he assumed it would. Come mid-afternoon, the sun had set, and people were flooding into the coffee shop for food. They all looked the same to him, and they all knew each other’s’ names. Mid-afternoon slowly turned into early evening, and before Luke knew it, the whole place had cleared. His coffee remained untouched from earlier.

“Hey Curly, we’re closin’ up,” you called from the other end of the café. You were stacking chairs, your apron now thrown over your shoulder like a proper barista would. He had noticed you scrubbing down surfaces, but he hadn’t put two-and-two together.

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes widening and pen slipping from his grip, though he made no effort to move. Luke had slept in cars and vans and buses, yet not once had he slept on the street. If he truly wanted to, he could go back to the airport and stay there, however, conditions were worsening outside.

The chair in your hands fell to the table with a spine-shuddering bang. Luke was just thankful he didn’t have all that much caffeine in him or else the sound would have sent his nerves flying.

“Where we ya headin’ to?” you asked, continuing your round about the floor.

“Does it matter?” he sighed as he rubbed his temples. “Got no fuckin’ place to stay.”

You didn’t answer as you stepped back behind the counter to shut off the lights to the kitchen.

“’m stuck in this fuckin’ town with all you fuckin’ people,” he said, “and Spice Crete is so fuckin’ small that your tiny ass motels turned me away. Me. I coulda given ‘em triple their nightly rates! So fuckin’ stupid. I’d rather’ve stayed in fuckin’ New York City with everyone else whose flight was canceled.”

“Spruce Creek.”

“What?” Luke snapped. He imagined that his face looked awfully crude.

“The town,” you giggled, shutting off the lights that were behind the camera. You walked over to him and placed your hand on the leg of an overturned chair. “’s Spruce Creek. Although, I wouldn’t mind the Spruce changing t’Spice. Sounds festive.”

He rolled his eyes.

There was another moment of silence as you stared at him, and he was about to say something about it before you said, “so, stay at my place.”

Luke knotted his brows together. Every line in his face deepened with confusion. “What?”

“I’ve got a couch,” you replied with a smile. “It’s not a California king-sized, but it’s some cushion until the conditions clear up. Free of charge.”

He was about to snort. He was about to say no. But he had no other options. Luke was forced to nod and accept your kind invitation. He hated that you seemed so happy about it.

-

Luke was grateful (truly, he was), but he could not handle your constant chatter. Were all small-town people the same? Did they all talk about nothing that mattered to him just to get under his skin? After you had taken him down the road to the tiny apartment building you resided in, Luke decided he was going to lock himself in the bathroom for thirty minutes of peace. The idea of brushing his teeth and scrubbing off the airplane and coffee shop grime tempted him, though the jingling of a collar snapped him out of his thought process.

A stout and slightly chubby Pitbull waddled over to greet the two of you as you entered through the (god awfully creaky) door. It went right to you, but it soon cowered back into the hallway right when it noticed Luke.

“That’s Grape!” you exclaimed, meanwhile making baby sounds to summon the dog back. “She’s shy when it comes to men. The vet thinks it might be because of her past owner, or something.”

Luke felt the disappointed come and go. Memories of Petunia hit him like a freight train, and it only reminded him further that he wanted nothing more than to be home with her. His eyes fell on the tree in the corner of the living room, and fuck, what a pathetic thing that was. Had you only gotten it yesterday? You didn’t seem like the type of person that had to settle for the runts. The apartment was decked out top-to-bottom for the holiday, so it didn’t make sense that the tree appeared to be seconds away from catching flame.

Whatever. It didn’t matter to him anyway. He was going to be here for a day or two at tops. And, if it had to be any longer, Luke would rather walk home.

And then the tree kept bothering him. “What’s– why’s your tree like...”

You huffed, but you laughed along with it. “Sad?” You shrugged and plopped down onto the hardwood floor as Grape came ambling over. “Couldn’t afford the price of a pretty tree.”

Luke frowned. Now that was unacceptable. “Where’s the nearest tree farm?” he asked you, eyes narrowing on you and the tubby pup that refused to look at him. It truly crushed him that he was not getting attention by that dog. If anything was keeping him back, it would be Grape.

“Um, there’s one behind Martha’s candle shop, so just like a five-minute walk,” you said. “Why?”

“I can’t sleep on a couch facing that fuckin’ thing,” Luke grumbled as he hugged himself with his arms.

“But I can’t– “

“Think of it as me leaving my mark.” He shrugged. The closer he got to closing himself off I the bathroom, the happier he would be. “Buying a tree will hardly put a dent in my wallet.”

You nodded, your lips pulling into a small frown as you lifted yourself off of the floor to stand. “You know,” you mumbled, “you’re gonna find some of the nicest people here in this town. They’ll treat ya like family if you let them. The storm will be over soon, and you’ll go back to your sports cars and model girlfriends. But there’s a warmth you’ll get here that you’ll never get anywhere else. Don’t flaunt things in their faces. People may not be rich here, but they have more worth than you will ever know.” You grabbed your coat from the small hook beside you. “Let’s go.”

-

Luke didn’t like receiving the cold shoulder from anyone, and for some reason, he hated it coming from you. You, the cute, chatty barista who somehow knew exactly how to piss him off. Yet, now that you were upset with him, the entire town would be on his ass. How could he hurt the sweetheart who owned The Coffee Pot? How dare he? Luke hardly expected to come out of this alive.

He didn’t know how to pick out a Christmas tree– he just saw them in movies and always dreamt of the day he could cut one down and decorate it himself. You, however, knew exactly where to go as you stalked off to the way back. Sure, he was right about there being a lot of runts, but there were good ones too. You certainly had experience in shopping for trees. You handled the saw with ease on the walk through the trees while he stumbled over stumps while the tree wagon nicked his shins.

Luke hadn’t made a snarky comment since you snapped at him, which honestly, he deserved. He was being a bit cruel to the folks around town. They had no say in his matters– it was not their fault that he was stuck in this god-awful place.

“If this fuckin’ thing hits my fuckin’– “

“This one,” you said, pointing to a great Fraser fir standing a whopping six feet (he guessed considering he was slightly taller than it).

Luke’s forehead scrunched. “It’s so– “

“Short?” you wondered aloud. “Mhm. I’ll name her Patrice. Who’s cutting? You, or me?”

He stuttered out a pitiful, “uh, I– uh– I-I don’t– “ before you sighed and kneeled on the snow-covered ground.

His eyes widened at your audacious action, and he wondered if you cared about your pants at all. Luke, on the other hand, was freezing his butt off. He was lucky he had a hat to keep his delicate ears warm, but his hands were numb in his coat pockets. The snow was falling in fat, chunky flakes that greatly affected his vision. The two of you looked kind of hilarious, all covered in snow and such, and you were somehow already well into your sawing. You definitely did have experience.

The word “wait” uttered from his lips a moment later.

“What?”

“I-I wanna try.”

You chuckled and sat up. Your arms were coated in needles, and your entire front side was caked in snow. “Give it a go, then,” you said, handing him the saw.

Luke knelt on the ground as he did his best not to wince at the fact that his few-hundred-dollar pair of pants was now soaked in snow, mud, sap, and many other things he didn’t want to think about. He laid down, just like you had, and shit, he wanted to whine about it so badly.

The floodlights overhead hardly shed a speck of light through the needles, which meant he couldn’t see a single thing of what he was about to cut. You had sawed a little already, so he searched and searched for the itsy divot you created.

“I look fuckin’– how the hell do you do this?” he asked, somehow already frustrated. His arms were cramping, and they hadn’t even moved.

You chuckled from above. When he glanced up (as best as he could through the lower boughs), you had grabbed ahold of the top to balance it out for when he began sawing. “Back ‘n forth.” You motioned it with your hands, and honestly, it looked more like–

“A handjob?”

This made you burst into a fit of unforeseen laughter, and that actually caused him to smile, too.

“Like a handjob, yup,” you said.

He nodded and returned his gaze back to the dark underbelly of the fir. Here goes nothing.

It took a bit of time, coercion, and tears, but Luke finally managed to cut down the small fir. He insisted on lifting it into the little wagon too, but the blunt end of the trunk fell on his toe, so you ended up helping out with that one. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure the experience had been worth it, but he promised you a better tree, and hell, you were getting a better tree.

“Cool beans,” you muttered, out of breath. A few snowflakes had stuck to your eyelashes, and that made him smile a bit. You were really pretty. Brushing off your hat, you huffed out, “now, let’s go get Patricia straightened.”

“I thought it was Patrice.”

You pouted. “Oh. Yeah. Patrice.”

Luke had no idea how he remembered that over you, but he knew that in due time, he would hopefully forget Patrice and this entire experience.

-

Luke awoke to a slobbery grin by his nose, and before he could register the puppy’s stare, he was being attacked with big, wet kisses. He had almost forgotten where he was as he laughed at the dog’s sudden friendliness, and then he smelled the burning from the kitchen. The half-open French doors separating the living room from the kitchen only hid so much, so the dancing mess that you were could easily be seen. He recognized the song playing softly through your phone as some song from “10 Things I Hate About You”. Honestly, his life at the moment could have been so much worse.

The spatula flew from your hands, and you yelped, causing poor Grape to waddle off in fear.

“Shit, Y/N,” you muttered to yourself, clambering across the bench surrounding the table to fetch the fallen soldier, “that’s not how you make eggs.”

Luke snickered, but he hadn’t meant it to be as loud as it was. You slipped onto the floor, and he heard your dog’s collar jingle from down the hall.

“Mornin’,” you huffed, kicking your legs out and accepting your defeat. “Like eggs?”

“Got ketchup?”

You groaned. “You disgust me.”

Luke cracked a grin.

“But no, sorry,” you mumbled with a shrug. “’m not a big ketchup fan.”

“You disgust me.”

You leaned forward to peer through the glass of one of the open doors so you could view Patrice in her bare glory. “Thanks, again. For Patty.”

He nodded. “Thanks for giving me a place to stay.”

You nodded, too.

“Need any help in the kitchen?”

Luke found out that you burned some toast, and you were about to serve him watery eggs, which didn’t make much sense to him considering the masterpiece sandwich you crafted for him yesterday. Now it was his turn to show you his skills, although they weren’t all that great. He just wanted things to go faster so he could get the hell out of Spice Girl Creek. The weather didn’t appear all that better just from his observations, but maybe it would be okay by the afternoon.

He had plated your breakfast when you said to him,

“Roads are still closed. We’re only in the middle of Dalton.”

Luke nearly dropped your plate. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He set the two plates down and began to pace a bit.

You shook your head. “But you’re more than welcome to– “

“Leave me alone,” he snapped and raced in the direction of the bathroom. Grape followed after him, and she soon began whining after he closed the door in her face.

Luke wanted to scream or cry or something in between. He was stuck in this town with you and all of those other weird old people that only saw him as a fake movie prop. He was real, and he was so mad that everyone looked at him as if he were the oddest frickin’ man who walked the face of the earth. Sure, he was pricey, and sure, one of his outfits cost more than your monthly rent, but that didn’t give them the right to stare. Just because he was untouchable didn’t mean he had zero feelings completely.

Maybe he was being unreasonable. He wasn’t a fucking god. All of Luke’s feelings stemmed from the fact that he couldn’t get home, and he really had no right to take it out on them. He had no right to take it on you, the pretty stranger that was being too fucking nice to him and his ugly temper.

With a sigh, Luke rinsed his face and walked out to join you for breakfast.

You were sat at the table when he walked back in the kitchen, your one hand petting a snorting Grape, the other struggling to pick up a few bites of egg onto a fork. “I’m sorry,” you said to him as he walked in.

Luke shook his head. That was the last thing you needed to say to him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I really don’t want you to think I’m this rude.”

“No, I get it,” you said. “Ya just wanna go home. I get it.”

He sighed and took his spot on the bench across from you. From what he could remember, his grandmother had a table and bench set like this at her old home. They were nestled between three walls just like yours, but in your case, the kitchen was within arm’s reach.

A thought popped into Luke’s mind. “Do you– do you really run The Coffee Pot by yourself?”

You nodded happily. “Well, sort of. My friend Charlie co-owns it, but he moved away last spring. It’s been me and a few other pals for months now.”

“Jesus,” he said, taking a bite of his bland eggs. Ketchup would have been great, and he wasn’t sure he could ever forgive you for not having ketchup.

“So, I work ten to close,” you said as you poured a bit of salt onto your eggs. Not much better than ketchup. “You’re free to sit in the seating area with the regulars. Darryl might give ya a hard time again. Or, you could see all that Spruce Creek has to offer! Although you might not wanna become an abominable snowman, so it’s up t’ya.”

“Hm, I might,” Luke mumbled. He truly did need a head-clearing walk.

“Waterman’s Bridge is pretty in the winter,” you said, “especially when the river is frozen over. It’s just a ten-minute walk east. The local art gallery is nice. I actually have a few works in there myself. And– “

Luke began zoning out when you mentioned the art gallery. He didn’t know it then, but he had been caught up in the movement of your lips as you spoke. That was the first sign, and after that, he lost track.

-

He dropped by Waterman’s Bridge briefly, but his cheeks were too chapped to withstand the brisk cold of Winter Storm Dalton’s fury. Unfortunately, though he did bring a few beanies and a singular pair of gloves, none of them were thick or warm enough to brace the harsh winter. The next stop was the art gallery like you said. He swore he wasn’t going to visit it, but after you mentioned you had a few pieces hung up, his brain convinced him to drop by.

The building was about the size of your one-bedroom apartment, and the artworks were all cramped and snuggled together like your vintage furniture. This made it easy to spot your creations, and when he did, he found himself going back to examine them. The curator of the place recognized him, but to his luck, they only bothered him for a moment before leaving him be.

Your work wasn’t the worst he’d seen, nor was it the best. Truth be told, he didn’t know what to think about it. He spent a good twenty minutes analyzing the film photographs only to realize there was nothing significant to be analyzed. All Luke knew was that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your art, and that troubled him. They were special because you made them.

He pictured you stretched out on the floor of your living room, couch pushed against the wall as you painted whatever damn thing that came to your mind. You probably carried your film camera with you everywhere, but he suspected that, since it was a literal blizzard outside, your creative eye was being restricted.

Luke quickly shuffled out of the gallery in order to avoid the gaze of the curator. He started in the direction of your coffee shop, but then he remembered the candle store, and oh, did he love candles. Maybe he would pick one up for his mother. Maybe he would pick one up for you.

“Luke, what a pleasant surprise,” you said as he walked in.

The heat hit him like a sudden gust of wind, and he had to shake the snow off of his coat and boats before walking off of the carpet and onto the hardwood. “Need a coffee fix,” he muttered, glaring at a few strangers (or regulars as you would call them) that happened to stare a bit too long.

“Small coffee?” you asked.

He bit his lip and leaned towards you. “Gotta be honest, your regular coffee is more water than coffee,” he whispered. A part of him wished he hadn’t said that, but then you giggled.

“I told Emily that her coffee isn’t nearly as strong as Charlie’s was.” You took a mug from the rack by the espresso machine and faced him. “All right. Prepare yourself for the best coffee you’ve ever tasted.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Bet?”

“Oh, I don’t need to!” you exclaimed. “I already know it’ll be the best coffee. If I’m wrong, then you can have Grape.”

“What?” Luke’s voice escaped him at a higher octave than he had hoped for. “You wouldn’t bet your dog on coffee.”

“Just you wait!”

Luke waited, and truly, he had to admit that you were right. The coffee was damn fantastic, but he wasn’t sure if it was the best he’d had. He would have to try every single cup of coffee he’d tried from around the world to put yours up to the test. But in the meantime, yes, your coffee was the best coffee, and he needed two more cups.

He stayed until close again, his stomach now stuffed with the same turkey pesto panini from yesterday. For the few hours he sat there, half of them were spent admiring you from afar, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Even the stranger next to him elbowed and teased him about it. Luke’s face fell, and he returned back to journaling.

Before exiting into the marshmallow world outside, Luke handed you a heavy brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” you asked, looking inside and fishing out a dark green candle.

“A candle.”

You knotted your brows together in confusion.

“For gratitude,” he continued. “’m not sure what scents ya like– “ He scratched the back of his neck, “–but I figured balsam and cedar was the best– “

Your arms were around his neck before he knew it, and he easily relaxed into your hug. Luke felt himself melt against you, his senses taking in your warmth and your scent purely for a memory stamp. He was slowing starting to realize that he did not want to forget about this experience or you.

“T-thanks,” you said, backing away as a great big smile grew on your cheeks. “This– this is the best thing you could have done for me. Thank you.”

“Course,” he replied. Luke began to smile as well.

Back at your place, you dug out boxes of ornaments. You had only just put them away yesterday once you got rid of your previous tree. A moment later, you invited Luke to help you decorate Patrice, and he jumped at the opportunity.

“What Christmas songs do you prefer?” you asked, stretching your arm out far so you could reach for your phone on the coffee table. The two of you had been untangling the metal hooks from the big ball they had forced themselves into. You let out a soft sound as you bent over, causing something to spark in Luke’s heart. “Traditional or gross modern?”

“I take it you got an opinion,” he muttered mockingly. “Traditional. Gimme that Bing Crosby shit.”

You grinned. “Man of my dreams.”

Luke wasn’t sure if you meant him or Bing Crosby. Whatever it was, it made Luke blush.

-

“Luke,” you whispered in his ear.

He groaned, rolling over and pulling the blanket higher on his bare torso to keep the chills from hearing your voice at bay. The shutter had already traveled halfway up his spine. In his dream, your fingers were tracing along his bicep as the other massaged his scalp. Your chests were pressed together, and the skin-to-skin contact was making his mind reel with pleasure and intimacy. God, you were so beautiful. How had he not noticed before?

“Luke,” you whispered again. Shit, did your voice get sexier?

Luke hummed, but it came out more like a moan as he imagined your lips sucking and biting–

“Luke!” you shouted, hitting his head hard with a couch pillow. “Wake up.”

His eyes snapped open to find you not in bed with him, but in fact, kneeling beside him fully clothed. Fuck.

“The roads are open,” you said. “Snow’s stopped.”

He jumped up, a grin spreading far on his cheeks. Before he knew it, he was lifting you up by the waist and holding you against him, his hand finding its way into your hair so he could press your head onto his chest.

“I take it you’re happy?” you mumbled against his hot skin.

“So fuckin’– “ His mind interrupted his tongue. That meant he could leave. That meant he had to leave. He had to leave you. Luke frowned and pulled away from you.

“What?” you wondered as you examined his suddenly worried expression.

His hands moved onto your cheeks, his thumbs grazing the soft skin underneath your eyes while he thought about what he was going to say.

“What?” you chuckled out lightly, but you soon lost your smile.

“Jus’ thinking about kissing you,” he said, “before I go.”

You were silent for a moment.

“’m sor– “

“I won’t want you to leave if you do,” you whispered, your hands reaching up to gently wrap around his wrists.

Luke nearly let out a breath, but he hadn’t brushed his teeth. “I gotta shower.”

You nodded, dropping your grip on his wrists as he dropped his on your cheeks. “Course.”

His heart was thumping loudly in his chest as he scurried around the small bathroom. He tossed his clothes to the floor, the toothbrush in his mouth nearly sliding back down his throat before he caught it with a gag. The water of the shower was hot enough by the time he had rinsed all of the toothpaste from his mouth, and then you knocked on the door.

“’m– I’m naked!” he shouted hurriedly.

“Yeah, um– I-I figured,” you stuttered out. He could picture you clutching your arms close against your chest like he knew you did when you were nervous.

Luke walked over to the door and opened it slightly so he could peak his head out. You were standing just how he imagined you would be, except he hadn’t expected to face the thick tension that he knew all too well. Your lips were pulled into a pathetic little pout, and it took every ounce of him not to tug you into the bathroom with him.

“I’m just– I’m– I’m gonna miss you,” you said. “I-I don’t– shit, I– “

Luke reached out and grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you in so he could press his lips against yours in a heated kiss. Maybe it was the steam from the shower, but every single nerve in his body ignited. You were kissing him back with as much fervency as he, and he couldn’t help but let himself taste what he had been missing these past three days.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured breathlessly, nudging your nose and slowly kissing down your cheeks and onto your neck. “So much.”

You unexpectedly pulled away, your eyes frantic, and your lips tugged into a deep frown. “No, you won’t,” you said.

Luke rested his face against the door. “What d’ya mean?”

“Y-you won’t miss me.” You cracked a smile. “You’ll go back to LA– see your friends and family, and you won’t miss me. You won’t miss this town– you won’t even remember it. It’ll be like some dream to you.”

“No,” he said, “that’s not true.”

“Are you sure?” you laughed somewhat maniacally. “You’re famous, Luke. Famous people don’t belong in a town like Spruce Creek. This is for people who have no other choice.”

He shook his head, but you had already walked into your bedroom and closed the door.

-

You offered to drive Luke to the airport, but neither of you spoke the entire time. He wanted to say so much to you, though none of the words that popped into his brain seemed right. Nothing seemed right. Leaving you, despite knowing you for the few days he had, felt like the worst decision he was about to face. He trusted his intuition, and it was telling him to stay.

It continued to tell him to stay as he waited three hours for security to open. It told him to stay as he waited with the other five people at the wrong gate before realizing there was only one other gate to wait by. It told him to stay as he sat on his phone for another three hours, looking at all of the pictures he managed to take through the blustery snowfall. It told him to stay as he gathered his belongings and waited for his ticket to be scanned.

And lastly, it told him to stay as he turned around and rushed out of the airport, his belongings banging around on the pavement behind him as he hailed for a taxi.

His forehead had broken out into a dripping sweat by the time he made it to The Coffee Pot. It was minutes away from closing– he knew. Luke tipped the driver before clambering out onto the slushy road. He hoped you wouldn’t see him just yet.

What was he doing? He had a whole life waiting for him back home. What was he doing?

The door chimed as he stepped in, that familiar gust of hot air hitting him as Darryl shouted, “Ay! Malibu’s back! Give ‘em a kiss for me Stan.”

Stan made a disgusted face as every head turned to Luke. Every head including yours.

“Luke?” you gasped.

“My legs hurt,” he said, “so c’mere.” He nodded you over and watched you walk out from behind the counter. Your steps were wary as you neared. “’m done missing out on other chances. Who says I can’t fall for someone I just met? Who says I can’t drop a few things just to be with you for a bit? Who says it won’t work out?” He chuckled. “I just know I’m crazy about ya, and I don’t really know what else to do but stay.”

You grinned, pulling him down by the neck as you pecked his lips over and over. “See?” you mused. “Small towns ain’t so bad.”

He hummed, a lazily smile finding its way onto his lips. “With you, never.”

tags!

@lilhemmo @oh-annaa @youngbloodstyles @tommyswolves @lukeofmine @crystalisinfinite  @dammitbands

[hgamesfan]

In the same New York Times interview that alleged Harvery Weinstein had a history of assaulting her, Uma Thurman also spoke out against the dehumanizing experience of shooting the Kill Bill films. Specifically, Thurman claims she was pressured by director Quentin Tarantino into shooting the popular convertible scene — or, the moment when she starts driving to kill Bill — by herself and with no stunt driver, despite Thurman expressing multiple times that she wasn’t comfortable operating the vehicle in its shoddy condition. “Quentin came in my trailer and didn’t like to hear no, like any director,” she said. “He was furious because I’d cost them a lot of time. But I was scared. He said: ‘I promise you the car is fine. It’s a straight piece of road. Hit 40 miles per hour or your hair won’t blow the right way and I’ll make you do it again.’ But that was a deathbox that I was in. The seat wasn’t screwed down properly. It was a sand road and it was not a straight road.”

The subsequent moments confirmed Thurman’s worst fears: While wrestling with the car, it veered off the road and hit a tree at a high speed. (The video can be watched here.) She was badly injured, and needed time to recover. “The steering wheel was at my belly and my legs were jammed under me,” she recalled. “I felt this searing pain and thought, ‘Oh my God, I’m never going to walk again. When I came back from the hospital in a neck brace with my knees damaged and a large massive egg on my head and a concussion, I wanted to see the car and I was very upset. Quentin and I had an enormous fight, and I accused him of trying to kill me. And he was very angry at that, I guess understandably, because he didn’t feel he had tried to kill me.”

Three reasons why Quentin Tarantino is an asshole:

1. Women told him that Harvey Weinstein sexually attacked and harassed them and he did nothing (Uma Thurman and Darryl Hannah).

2. He insisted Uma Thurman do a dangerous stunt that she repeatedly asked not to do which left her with a concussion, permanent neck injuries and knee pain.  Then he hid the footage for 15 years so that Uma couldn’t sue Miramax for injury.

3. During shooting, Tarantino took over the roles off camera of the men who abuse Uma so he could choke her with a chain and repeatedly spit in her face.  Her director/boss made sure he was the one abusing her.