#besides it's not like. the end of the world that he has a beer sometimes. have you tried going thru life completely sober? it sucks

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

i'm kind of amazed how most of the stardew marriage candidates just want you to be their manic pixie dream whatever by agreeing with everything they like and plying them with compliments or praise or whatever (which is fine but a bit. Much) but for shane his romance is just you being there for him while he figures his own shit out... dunno why i never wanted to romance him before he's so good

[boldlyvoid]

Figure it out

18+ Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Movie and a Cuddle night starts out a bit differently this week...

Warnings: best friends to lovers, male masturbation, voyeurism, ruined orgasms, love confessions, oral (fem receiving), protected p in v smut

word count: 4k

Movie and cuddle night with Eddie was her absolute favourite night of the week. 

It was always on a different night, sometimes they had 2 in one week, and sometimes they skipped a week altogether, it all depended on Eddie’s ever-changing work schedule. He’d call when he had a free day coming up, so they’d be able to spend the night together without the worry of him being late for work the next day. He never wanted to get out of bed when she was there… she didn’t blame him. They made this perfectly warm and happy cocoon of love under his covers, it was the best place to be. 

So when he called earlier and said he was free tomorrow, she packed a bag and all but ran to him. 

She leaves a bit earlier than she normally would, she just couldn’t wait around any longer when she missed him so much. Being his best friend and all, she saw him often, except also not often enough, according to the little crush she had on him. She’s been basically in love with him since their first movie night when she fell asleep by accident and he tucked her into his bed with a kiss on the head. He slept beside her all night, above the covers and fully clothed, he wanted to make sure she felt safe… which is exactly why she was able to fall asleep on him in the first place. He radiates safety. security. happiness. Everything good in the world comes from Eddie Munson. 

On the way to his place, she grabs his favourite snacks from the corner store, she even gets him a few cans of beer as a treat. The trailer park isn’t too far away after that, she puts all the groceries in the passenger seat and continues to his house with a never-ending smile. 

She parks behind his van, gets out with all her things and walks right into the trailer, allowed to come and go as she pleases, he said so before. She puts everything on the kitchen counter and heads to his room. She plans to knock, as always, but something pulls her attention away from any rational thoughts she had. 

Was that a moan?

From where she’s standing in the hall, she can see through the crack of the bedroom door and into the mirror facing his bed… the same bed she has to share with him later and the one he’s currently masturbating in. With his shirt off and pants pushed down to his knees, he’s stroking his cock like his life depended on it. He has no idea she’s there, no idea he’s being watched. He’s too in the zone to care, either.

She strains her neck trying to get a better look without getting too close, the butterflies in her stomach fly lower causing an all too familiar tingle to arise in her panties. This was too much, it was so private, and she shouldn’t be standing there looking and trying to get a better view… she should just back away but her morbid curiosity gets the better of her. 

He used one hand on his balls, massaging them slightly as the other hand quickly stroked up and down his long length… she could drool looking at him. Fuck. She knew he’d be hot in bed, but this was a whole different story? She put her thumb in her mouth to stay quiet, something he wasn’t overly concerned about as he moans again. She just ended up wishing it was his cock in her mouth instead.

His toes start to curl, and his head is thrown back against the pillows, he has no idea she’s watching him do this— this very intimate and personal thing… but then again why was he doing it so close to when he said she could come over??  

It’s almost like he wanted to get caught. 

She tiptoes closer to the door so she can get the best seat in the house for a show she’s dreamed about for years. He’s breathing heavily, with his other fist now shoved in his mouth to keep quiet, yet he’s still making cute little noises. His eyes are squeezed shut, and he looks so close to the edge, it’s so hot that she makes an involuntary whine, just as the floor creeks under her feet.

His eyes flash to her as cum shoots all up his stomach, his cock twitching in his hand still, his eyelids heavy, the high is too good for him to freak out about being caught. He lets it wash over him, enjoying it as best he can but it was still ruined. 

He looks at her with horrified eyes after he’s completely finished, rejoining the moment and turning bright pink with embarrassment when he realizes she’s really actually there. He didn’t dream that... she was actually in his doorway with her thumb in her mouth and her thighs clenched together. She saw everything. She’s still seeing everything. 

“I’m sorry,” she rushes the words out, “you looked so hot… I— I didn’t mean to interrupt or, or anything.”

He can’t speak, frozen in shock. 

She licks her lips before sucking on the bottom one slightly, she thinks it over quickly and then starts approaching him. Standing at the edge of his bed now, “do you do that often? Before I sleep over?” She asks.

He nods slowly, “um, in the shower, mostly but I uh, I didn’t have time… clearly.” 

“Ah,” she smirks. “Thought I heard those beautiful noises somewhere else before…” thinking back to the mornings she’s woken up after him to hear the shower running.

“Why aren’t you mad?” He asks, sitting up and reaching for his tissues on his side table so he could clean up his chest. He doesn’t look for his shirt, she’s so used to seeing him shirtless that it’s nothing new to her. 

“Do you mind if I sit here with you?” She pats the end of the bed, getting on before he can even say no. “I’m not mad 'cause it’s not like you did anything wrong… it’s your body and you were alone and in your own home, I’m the one who creeped on you. I’m sorry.” He’s silent, it worries her, so she panics. “Are you mad at me?”

He shakes his head furiously, “no, no, never. I just… god, I hate myself for this—“

“What?”

“What if I erm… what if— you know, I could’ve possibly— in the past that is, not this time, but uh…” he can’t find a way to get it out. 

“Do you think about me when you jerk off?” She smirks, filling up with glee. “Really?”

“You’d like that?” His demeanour changes quickly. 

She nods, feeling like sharing a vulnerability will make them even. “I’ve thought about you before… during my alone time. So—

“You think about me jerking off?” He can’t believe it, he looks at her like she just said could time travel or took up sword swallowing. He looked at her like she was crazy. 

She nods again, staring at his lips and then down to his messy chest with a sigh. “And other things.”

“Tell me,” he begs with a groan bubbling in his throat. “Please? I wanna know what you think about when you touch yourself…”

“One condition,” she stands up again and reaches for the tissues on his night table to help clean him up the mess he already made. “Sleepovers don’t stop because we got horny today, okay?” She asks while leaning over him and wiping the tissue over his chest. 

“Sleepovers with sex sound nice,” he compromises, “I mean come on, everyone already thinks we’re fucking during these anyway.” 

“Gareth and Jeff aren’t everyone—

“Steve Harrington asked me if I was bangin’ you,” he cuts her off, proving his point.

Her eyes grow wide, “no he didn’t?” 

He nods with a shit-eating grin, “yep. He didn’t believe me when I said we watch movies and cuddle all night… told me I should make a move sometime soon, too.”

“I mean, it’s a little weird that we haven’t fucked yet,” she admits with a coy shrug. “I thought you would’ve made a move ages ago.” 

“So did I,” he rolls his eyes with a chuckle. He sits up then, buttoning up his pants while she tosses out the tissue and then rejoins him on the bed. “I really like you, if that wasn’t obvious already…”

“It was,” she can’t help but smile. “Did you not realize I’ve been crushing on you for years? Like way before the whole end of the world/ dead girl in your trailer thing happened…”

“Really?” He can’t comprehend it at all. “I didn’t think you started liking my back till recently?”

“Why’s that?” She laughs, “is it all the sexy things I’ve been wearing to bed?”

That was the first step in her secret plan to make him act up, wearing basically nothing beside him every time they slept together because she was “too hot”… 

“Duh? Why do you think I shower every morning before you wake up?” He explains. “It’s not 'cause I wanna be up that early, but my little friend always is.” 

She laughs, looking down at his jeans where he was hardening up again. “What’s your turnaround like?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he carefully reaches out for her but she has other plans, she gets into his lap as his hand lands on her cheek, bringing her face forward so their foreheads bump. “I want to focus on you… My god, I’ve thought about this for so long.” 

She pulls away and reaches for the hem of the dress she threw on earlier and pulls it off, tossing it to the floor and looking at him with a playful smirk, “show me…”

“Fuck,” he groans to himself at the sight of her bra-covered tits and then she reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra, letting the straps fall down her shoulders and then she pulls it off. He flings it toward the floor and his jaw drops. 

Without thinking he uses both hands to cup her boobs and runs his thumbs over each nipple. She bites her lip so she doesn’t moan already but it feels nice… “Eddie,” she whispers, drawing his attention back up to her eyes. 

His eyes are so blown out with lust for her, she can barely see the brown anymore, she can almost see herself in the reflection of his pupil it’s that dark. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you sure?” She worries just a bit, “this isn’t going to fuck us up?” 

He shakes his head, “no, no, baby, I won’t let it. It would only get fucked up if we pretend there are no feelings here…”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a building smile, replacing any fears she had.

She leans in and presses her lips to his, taking a leap of faith and hoping she sticks the landing… he’s a bit shocked to feel her lips on his but he settles quickly, closing his eyes and kissing her softly in return while his hands spread around to her back. Her skin is so warm, and his hands are so big, it just feels right for him to pull her flush to his chest and kiss the bejesus out of her. 

She pulls away only when she needs a breath, staring deeply into his eyes again, she cups his face in her hands, “I lied… it’s not just a crush.” 

“Good, 'cause it's not for me either,” he admits. “Let me show you how much I feel for you…” 

“Okay,” she feels a little breathless, it’s her turn to not believe what’s happening. He might love her back. Thats all she’s ever wanted. 

With another kiss, Eddie lays her back down on the mattress, taking his time as he kissed down her body, towards the small little panties she had on. He looked up into her eyes when he reached your belly button, asking if it was okay for him to keep going. She gripped his hair and pushed him down further, feeling him smile against her skin as he yanked her panties down her legs and tossed them with the rest of her clothes.

She watches in awe as he kisses from her knee down her thighs and finally, spreads her cunt open enough to kiss exactly where she wants him.

“So fucking wet,” he mummers, “sweet fuck…”

She gives him a satisfied hum, “all for you… always for you.”

He dives in and her hands reach for his hair with a shout, her hips shutter at the contact. It’s pleasure like she’s never felt before, the emotional connection they’ve been building for years finally toppled over into romance and sex and it’s everything she hoped and dreamed of. 

The closer she gets, the more she begs, grinding against his face and pushing him in deeper. That’s when she feels his fingers at her core and pushing inside of her. One first, two quickly thereafter, it felt too fucking good to be real. “Please?” She chants, “Oh god, please?”

“Let go,” he mumbles, his words captured by her pussy and kept in her core as she cums on his face.

It was heaven on earth, she always knew he'd be amazing but she had no idea he'd be this good. The feeling of her orgasm peaking and then dwindling all while his tongue stayed on her clit and the feeling of his thick fingers inside of her just made her want more. She pulled on his hair once more, out of breath and hornier than she’s ever been in her life, ”get in me,” she orders, “please, I need you to fuck me so bad…”

He was fully out of his jeans and kneeling between her legs before she could count to 10.  She watched as he grabbed a condom from his side table and waited in anticipation as he put it on. He glides his cock towards her entrance like it was the end of the world tomorrow and she felt the same amount of haste. She needed him desperately, she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in closer as he slipped fully inside. 

She had never in her life been this feral for a man. She couldn't believe how good he felt, slipping in inch by inch until he bottomed out and wrapped his arms around her. Chest to chest, closer than ever before, he’s breathing heavily in her ear between the kisses he leaves on her shoulder and neck, not wanting to move yet, he had to get used to how fantastic it felt to be inside of her or this would be over way too soon. 

She runs her hands down his back gently, “Eddie?” She whispers in his ear. “Eddie, please fuck me. Please, I need it.” 

“Yeah? Is that what you want?” he pushes himself up with one arm and stares down at her. With his other hand, he traces down her side, following the curve of her body until he reaches her hips. He slowly pulls out and pushes back in, finding a slow and steady pace, “you’re lucky I came already, princess, fuck you feel so good.” 

She hums in agreement, tipping her head back against the mattress, “you’re so deep…” she grips his arm, the one he’s using to steady himself. The one thats flexing so hard his veins are prominent and his muscles are nice and she’s so gone for him already. “Oh my god,” she moans as he picks up the pace, fucking into her with more passion and then he stills again. 

He sits on his knees and places both hands on her knees, running his fingers slowly down the inside of her thighs as he starts to fuck her again. Watching himself enter her over and over again, he rubs her clit with his right thumb, smiling to himself when she tosses her head back with another moan. “I always knew you’d be so responsive.” 

She cups a hand around her breast with one hand and grips the sheets with the other, “uh-huh,” she can barely thinks he’s so deep inside of her, kissing her cervix with every thrust, he’s filling her up so good she could cum just from this… but he’s not at the right angle. “Can you, fuck, can— Jesus Christ, I need a pillow,” she rushes the words out, having a hard time with just how good he feels. 

“Where?” He grabs one from the head of the bed and he’s ready to shove it where ever she wants it. 

“Under me,” she lifts her hips and he slots it right in and continues to fuck her, deeper, angled up more, hitting her G-spot as well now. “Oh fuck, there, right there…” 

He groans then too, feeling her clench around him as if she was trying to get him to go even deeper, somehow. He leans down to give her a kiss and she wraps her left hand around the nape of his neck while her right one trails down his back and cups his ass. Her legs wrap around him then too, keeping him in place while he fucks her and makes out with her at the same time. It’s fucking glorious. She can feel him everywhere, he can feel her, both inside and out, they’re so close it’s like they’ve become one person. 

She moans into the kiss, turning her head to the side so he can keep kissing her cheek and he talks between kisses too. Mumbling obscenities and sweet niceties, telling her she feels so good and he can’t believe it… and then he says it. 

“Oh, I love you, I love you so much,” he pants against her, sloppily kissing her cheek and jaw. 

Her grip on him tightens, she moans louder than she expected and pushes up against him, “say it again?” She begs. 

“I love you,” he rushes out, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says with each thrust. 

He grips the underside of her knee and pushes her leg up more, fucking into her at another new angle, he grinds against her so his pubic bone hits her clit and she’s gone. He feels her start to tremble, her cunt tightens like a vice and he knows she’s going to cum soon. So he keeps telling her, whispering that he loves her between each thrust and kiss and touch and oh she feels every ounce of love he has to give her. 

She doesn’t mean to cry but tears slip out of her eyes and run down her cheeks, it’s all too much. She loves him, she loves getting fucked by him, she loves being here and experiencing this and hearing the truth from his soft lips. Her back arches and he reaches between them to rub her clit for good measure, “let go, it’s okay,” he whispers against her. “I’ve got you.” 

“Oh, Eddie!” She grips his skin so tight he knows he’s going to have scratches all down his back when they’re done but he doesn’t care. Not when she’s chanting his name and coming undone underneath him. 

The feeling of her release is too much for him, he ruts into her like mad, losing all rhythm and just chasing his won high now. He cums within seconds of her, still feeling her flutter around his cock as he releases into the condom and drops down against her, knocking the wind out of her for a second time. 

There’s a ringing in his ears after he cums, he almost feels like he blacks out and then he feels her running her fingers through his hair and the reverberation from her voice. “What?” He sits up a bit and looks at her. 

She giggles, “I said I love you, dingus.” 

“Oh,” he smiles and drops back down to the crook of her neck, he kisses her neck and sighs. “I love you, too.” 

They stay like that for a minute or two, until their breathing settles and everything settles in. That really just happened. He goes to sit up and pull out and she whines, pouting up at him, she immediately covers her hands over her boobs, “can we cuddle again once we clean up?”

He nods, “of course?” 

“Good,” she gets up with him and finds her panties on the floor, she takes them and her dress with her to the bathroom and then she’s gone. 

He takes the condom off and tosses it in the trash, he puts on a pair of boxers and a shirt and sits back down in his bed. He puts the pillows back where they belong and notices the wet spot she left behind on his mattress. It makes him smile even though he knows he’s going to have to wash his sheets tomorrow and thats a pain in the ass. But she isn’t. 

She walks back in with just her panties on and places her dress on his dresser before opening the drawer and grabbing a shirt. “I don't want to wear that right now.” 

“That’s fine,” he doesn’t mind, he actually prefers it when she wears his stuff. It’s hot. 

She goes for the biggest shirt he has, one he keeps clean and in the top drawer just for her, and she puts it on quickly before rushing the bed and hopping in. She climbs back on top of him, straddling his hips and burying her face in the crook of his neck. She wraps her arms around his middle and sighs, “that was nice…” 

“Yeah, it was,” he runs his hand over her back and kisses the side of her head. “I mean it, you know…?”

She nods, and he feels it, “I know, I could tell… you know I mean it too, right?” 

“Yeah,” he smiles and hugs her tightly. “We’re so in love,” he teases, starting to gently rock them back and forth. 

She laughs, “it's about fuckin’ time.” 

“You should walk in on me more oft—

"Oh hush," she smacks his arm and laughs, pulling away so she can look at him, she cups his cheek again, looking at his lips and then back up to his eyes, “you don’t have to jerk off before I come over ever again. Not if you make me your girlfriend… then this can be sex and a movie night.” 

He shakes his head, smiling cause he can’t do anything else, he loves her too much, “okay… fine, will you be my girlfriend, then?” 

She nods, “I will. I’ll be the best damn girlfriend in the whole fucking world for you.” 

“You won’t have to try too hard,” he leans forward and brushes his nose against hers. “You’re already pretty wonderful to me.” 

“Speaking of,” she smirks, “there’s beer and chips in the kitchen waiting for you.” 

“I love you,” he says again, “not just cause you bring me food. I love everything about you. All of it. Every single ounce of you, your personality, your humour, your mind, your smile… everything. I love you.” 

She pulls him in for another kiss then, pressing them to his lips and his cheeks, making him laugh as she covers his whole face in smooches. “I love you so much more than I could even express, Eddie…” 

“So let's find the words together,” he teases. “We’ve got forever if you want it?” 

She nods, “forever beside you sounds good.” 

General Taglist 

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @babybisexual @marsmunson86

Eddie

@fightingdragonswithwho @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @blairscott @princesseddie @luna-munson83 @ches-86 @manda-panda-monium 

[strawberryspence]

They both have different stories when asked, “When did you first meet?”

Steve says it was in school, along the hallways with freshman Steve Harrington and sophomore Eddie Munson locking eyes for the first time. Eddie says it was in a party, drinking beer and selling drugs, a transaction.

Wayne Munson knows the truth. The truth that way before monsters, way before creatures from games came true, way before the end of the world, way before everything, that Eddie and Steve have already met.

Wayne remembers that day so clearly. A social worker coming to his work in the middle of the day looking for him. Something about Wayne being the closest relative, about his brother going to jail and his mother running away.

Eddie's been living alone for two weeks. Two weeks. Cooking and cleaning for himself, the only reason it got suspicious is because he didn't go to school and one of his teachers called home.

He watches as Eddie swings himself at the empty playground. He brought Eddie here because— where do you bring children? Playgrounds are perfect right? He doesn't have the slightest idea as to what he's doing.

Sometimes in the morning, Wayne doesn't even have clothes to wear because he forgot to do the laundry. It's the same reason he doesn't have a wife and children. If he can't take care of himself, how could he take care of a whole other human being?

Out of nowhere, there's a kid running to the playground. Stopping just in front of Eddie and introducing himself with a bright smile.

His nephew stares at the boy for a few seconds before answering, "Hi, I am Eddie."

Wayne listens to them chatter for a few more minutes, before the boy asks if Eddie wants to be pushed.

Eddie's still giving the other boy a look of disbelief, before he finally says yes.

The boy's guardian sits beside Wayne. She looks better off, with an expensive looking coat and purse. But there's a warm, comforting smile on her face.

She turns to Wayne, “Is that your son?”

Wayne turns to her, pursing his lips, “I— Yes— No— It’s complicated.” He sighs. He doesn't even know what Eddie is to him now. “He’s my nephew. I just got custody of him today.”

“Oh.” The woman breathes out. Wayne turns back to the kids, Eddie's laughing now and it's music to his ears.

Wayne spills his heart to the random stranger, some part of his heart knowing that it will be safe with her.

“I don’t know what I am doing. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a child.” Wayne starts, “But he’s never got a good home and I want to give that to him.”

She smiles at him, "Just the fact that you want to give him a good home is telling me that you’ll be just fine. Don’t overthink it, life’s too short for that.”

It hits Wayne straight to his chest. He still doesn't know what exactly to do, but he feels better knowing that he has a chance to give Eddie the home he deserves.

“Thank you.” Wayne says, smiling at the woman as they watch the kids giggle and play.

“Steve’s your boy?” Wayne asks.

She beams back at him, answering without missing a beat, “Yeah, he’s my boy. Not my son, just my nephew. But I love him like he’s mine.”

Oh. Well, isn't that just perfect? Wayne softens and thinks— huh— she does understand.

When the time comes, Wayne watches as Eddie says a tearful goodbye with the other boy. There's daisies in his hair, like it grows right with his hair and Eddie has one tucked between his ears. It's intimate, the picture perfect to describe puppy love.

Eddie stands and waves at the boy's moving car, until he can't even see it anymore. And then, Eddie looks at him, "Where do I go now?"

Wayne stoops on his knees to see him eye to eye, "You're coming home with me. But before that we're gonna go get some milkshakes, does that sound good with you, Ed?"

Eddie looks at him curiously, brown eyes staring at him, "Do you have money for that?"

It floors Wayne, how grown up this child is. Eddie deserves to know nothing about this. In his age, he should be thinking about playing and making friends and being a child. No, Eddie is concerned if Wayne has enough money for a fucking milkshake.

"Of course, I have money for that, Ed!" Wayne laughs, patting his head. He stands, hoping it'll hide the pain in his eyes.

"Okay." Eddie answers. Wayne offers his hand for him to take, Eddie stares at it.

"Let's go?" Wayne asks, and Eddie nods, finally taking his hand, "Let's go."

From that day on, Wayne swears to protect Eddie, give him the home he deserves. He changes his shift to the evening one so he can stay home with him, gave him his room so he can have the privacy he deserves. Wayne loves Eddie like he's his own.

Even when Eddie finally comes out, that love didn't falter, "Hey, Wayne?"

Wayne turns to him. Eddie's bigger now, curly hair growing into longer wisps. He's wearing a vest with patches, they sewed it together months ago. "Yeah?"

"Remember that boy? In the playground with daisies in his hair? The day you took me home?" Wayne hums, nodding.

Eddie stares at him, arms crossed like a shield, "Yeah, he was my first love."

Wayne blinks at him.

"And I think— well— I know. I am gay."

Wayne nods, "Alright."

He turns to turn off the stove. Sits down and talks to Eddie, makes sure he knows that he can't be out because it's too dangerous, makes sure he knows that there's nothing wrong with loving another man.

And at the end of the night, Wayne tucks him in, just before he goes to work, kisses his forehead and says him, "I love you, Ed. Nothing will ever change that."

-

It's not until years later that he sees the boy from the playground again. Wayne's pretty sure he saw him in a few of the local papers, but he wasn't really sure, the pictures are too blurry, too small.

But this— this is the clearest picture Wayne has ever seen and he's damn sure that the boy sleeping beside Eddie's hospital bed is the boy with the daisies.

Wayne coughs, and the boy immediately springs back to life. It's odd. It's the same boy, only older. But there's so much weariness in his eyes, the same look Wayne has seen on war veterans. He still has brown hair, smooth and golden.

Eddie wakes up right after him, eyes bleary, with a small smile as soon as he sees him, "Uncle Wayne. I love you."

It's the first thing Eddie's said to him after a week of missing. Wayne chokes with tears. He moves closer to hug Eddie, tears in his eyes.

There was a time that he thought he'd never be able to do this again, that this was the end. Wayne was ready to burn this whole town, the whole world even, for whatever they've been doing to his pure, innocent nephew.

But he's here, alive and awake in front of Wayne and he thinks he can finally, finally breathe again.

"Never do that to me again, Ed. Never."

Eddie chuckles, "Alright. I promise."

"I love you too, okay?" Eddie nods.

They separate and for a few solid seconds, they all just stare at each other before Eddie speaks again, "Oh, uhm, Uncle Wayne, this is Steve. Steve, this is my Uncle Wayne."

Steve immediately stands up, shaking his hand earnestly. Wayne stares at Eddie, waits for any indication that he knows, remembers that this boy was his first love.

Nothing.

Nada.

After breaking every NDA he signed and telling Wayne every little tidbit of his crazy week, Eddie finally falls asleep again with the help of a handful of drugs.

Wayne takes his chance, just before Steve goes to go and check on their other friend, the Mayfield kid.

"Hey, kid?" Steve stops on his tracks, before facing him.

"Sir?"

Wayne scoffs, "None of that Sir stuff. Wayne would do. I just have a question."

"What is it, si— Wayne?" Steve blinks at him, lips pursing at the obvious mistake.

"Do you have an aunt?" Steve looks visibly taken back, eyes widening.

"Yes. I have." He blanches, "I did."

Oh. Oh, no.

"You did?" Wayne asks; he knows what the answer is but he still wants to know what happened to that woman from the playground that day. The same one that he still thinks of when he has a tough time.

Wayne has always thought that they'll meet again someday, that he'll get to thank her for that one conversation. He missed his chance.

"She died when I was a kid. Cancer." Steve answers, his voice quivering for a split second, "Why do you ask? Did you know her?"

Wayne shakes his head, "No. I don't think so. You just reminded me of someone, and guess I got it wrong."

Steve nods his head, accepting his answer wholeheartedly, "Goodnight, Wayne."

And Wayne watches, as the door closes shut behind Steve, "Goodnight, daisy boy."

-

Steve and Eddie, Wayne thinks, are utter idiots.

First, they dance together for ages before they finally get their act together and date. Wayne might've as well held a white poster paper with "KISS" written on it behind them.

Second, they fight over when they first meet and none of them are even right. Wayne is exhausted, listening to them argue about it day and night.

Third, they're blind. Literally blind.

The day of their wedding, Wayne hoped that the two boys would finally realize that they've met that day on the park. He asked that nice girl, Nancy, to pick some daisies and to put it on Steve's hair for the ceremony. While, Wayne went out to pick one to tuck behind Eddie's ear.

As Wayne watched as the two boys proclaim their love for each other in front of their family, with daisies tucked in their hairs just like the day they first met; he's overcome with the feeling of joy and happiness over the fact that the two boys still found each other even after everything.

It's ridiculous watching them not recognize each other, so Wayne finally decided to end their (his) misery.

Eddie clinks a glass with a fork, "Uncle Wayne! Speech!" There's a flurry of clinking before Wayne finally stands up.

"Alright, alright. I'll do it." They laugh, putting down their glasses.

It's a small backyard wedding. The Hopper-Byers has decked the yard with bright lights that brightened the whole night. In the middle, there's one long table to fit all of them. On the end of the table, side-by-side, is Eddie and Steve.

"Alright, I have a confession to make." Everyone straightens up in anticipation.

"I know it's been a running debate between Steve and Eddie, as to who's right about where and when they first met." Wayne can hear Eddie saying, "It's me obviously!"

"Settle down, boy." Wayne says, making them laugh.

"The truth is they're both wrong. You both have been very blind to the truth." Eddie makes an appalled noise as Steve laughs.

"The truth is I know when they first met." Eddie squints at him, confused. Steve whispers something to his ear that Eddie answers with a shrug.

"Steve and Eddie first met as kids. It was the same day I got custody of Eddie. I bought him to the park after that, let him play, you know? Out of no where, this kid—" Wayne chuckles.

"This kid comes up to Eddie, introduces himself and asks if Eddie wants to be pushed. His aunt— his aunt was very kind to me even though I was a complete stranger spilling my guts out to her."

"When it was time to leave, Eddie says goodbye to this kid, and it was so intimate. I remember thinking it was the perfect picture for puppy love. The boy goes home with daisies tucked in his hair, while Eddie goes home with one in his ear."

"It's not until years later, when Eddie came out to me that he tells me that the same boy with the daisies was his first love. And it's not until a few more years later after that, when I first meet the daisy boy again, sleeping beside Eddie's bed in the hospital."

Wayne turns to Steve and Eddie, there's pure surprise in their faces as they watch and listen to Wayne's speech.

"I could never really forget about that day and that boy. The way he made my nephew happy on one of the worst days of his lives. And now, he gets to make Eddie happy for the rest of their lives." Wayne sniffs, hiding it with a fake cough.

"Love is iffy." Wayne says, causing everyone to chuckle, "But what you guys have? It's been set into stone way before you knew each other. That's as true as love can ever be and I hope you nurture and care for it for the rest of your lives."

There's no dry eye in the yard. Wayne's heart is full and content, because he's sure that his son will be happy and taken care for, for the rest of their lives.

Wayne raises his glass,

"A toast to the daisy boys."

-

→ Annalyn's POV | BONUS

(thank you for the overwhelming love for Annalyn's POV! i am so glad y'all liked it. 💗)

TAGS: @7-starboi @emly03 @a-new-kind-of-blue @leather-and-freckles @tiny-enthusiast @cherrycolas-things @the-redthread @lady-silkwing @ancielsol @sunshine1066 @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @makewavesandwar @hunterbow04 @resident-gay-bitch @swimmingbirdrunningrock @bidisastersworld

[bullet-prooflove]

Sending hugs always!

Mitch Ripley, a pool, a cat and fireworks.

Please and thank you!

Tagging:  @spaghettificationandpretzels @mini-bee-bee @mandy426 @phoward89

It’s Fourth of July weekend and Mitch ends up face down in the paddling pool that’s shaped like a kitty cat. He’s just thankful there were no kids in it at the time.

Your parents are hosting a cookout for the holiday and the back garden is filled with emergency response workers. You come from a legacy family. Your father’s a fire chief, your brothers are both firefighters and your mother’s a nurse in the neonatal unit. Even Marley 2.0 used to be in the service. He’d retired due to PTSD because he’d spent too much time in a warzones, which is why he goes absolutely batshit crazy when the fireworks start to go off.

As soon as the first boom resounds he bolts for his safe space, the snug little area behind the couch. Mitch has his back to him, he doesn’t even see him coming. He just knows one minute, he’s sipping his beer and telling you how pretty you look in that dress and the next he’s drowning in less a foot of water.

When he manages to clamber his way out of the pool he’s soaked through to his skin and more concerned about the dog. He heads inside to towel himself dry and retrieve a set of spare clothing from your father. It’s as he’s coming down the stairs in a fresh shirt and swim shorts that he spots Marley 2.0’s tail sticking out from behind the sofa. He hears that low whine as another firework goes off and his heart just breaks. He’s been there, scared, terrified of the world outside. Only his safe space used to be at the bottom of a closet when his mother had one of her parties.

When you go in search of him a half an hour later, you find him sitting alongside the couch, with Marley’s head in his lap, his fingers stroking over the Labrador’s fur.

“He was a bit frightened so I thought I’d sit with him, talk to him a little. He seems to have settled now.” He says, his voice a low, even pitch. You sit down beside him, your back coming to rest against the living room wall.

“You are a very special person.” You say and he shakes his head, his gaze lingering on Marley as he prods Mitch’s palm with his nose.

“No.” He tells you as he soothes over Marley’s head. “I just know what it’s like, to feel like that.”

You forget sometimes, about his history. Most of the time, he’s this strong confident man, controlled and capable but then there’s a moment like this and you remember how vulnerable he is, the suffering he’s endured.

“I love you, you know?” You say affectionately because sometimes Mitch needs a little reassurance and you sense it’s one of those times.

“I know.” He whispers, his lips brushing over your forehead before he smiles. “Marley does too.”

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

FOUR

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic.

THREE FIVE

You had a date with two men, two men who stood you up, didn't even bother to send a smoke signal to cancel everything. The worst part is that you got all dressed up, put on a nice dress and everything. How infuriating. And just as you're about to lie down on the bed and turn on the TV to try to forget the pathetic situation you find yourself in, someone knocks on your door.

"So, the idiot here and I are going to the bar on the other side of the forest to have some beers. As uninteresting as you may seem, it's worth giving you a chance to at least do something fun. What do you think?" Bellatrix asks as she leans abruptly against the corridor wall. Peter is standing beside her, looking uncomfortable at being called an idiot but much more focused on looking at you as if he wants to uncover your secrets.

"I think that's a rather rude way to ask someone if they want to go have a beer with you, but at the moment, my options are either to go with you or put on my pajamas, and I think it's worth giving you guys a chance." You say, grabbing your bag and then locking the door to your room. When you turn around, Peter looks at you as if you were some kind of different creature. A look that seems to mix curiosity with a sort of dread.

"Deep down, I know you want to go out with us because you don't want to be in the middle of what's going on between Remus and Sirius. Believe me, I know how you feel. Hogwarts doesn't offer many options for relationships, so sometimes I tried to have something casual with Remus or even with my boring cousin, but Sirius is simply… nothing is more important to those two than their relationship. So my advice is to stay away from them. Or at least don't have feelings for them. But if you do, be prepared." Bellatrix speaks as if she just wants to gossip about something or influence you even a little bit. You, who are walking beside her while Peter walks ahead of the two, don't know what to think. After all, you're a stranger. You can't demand anything from anyone.

"Danger, danger is all you'll get with Lupin. If you survive, you'll come out marked forever." Peter turns to you and says this. His body language seems to indicate that he's nervous, as if he's warning you of an impending attack. Bellatrix looks at him with a disapproving and almost furious look. You don't understand anything, but something inside you tells you to be more cautious.

"What Peter means is that getting involved with Remus can be dangerous, but not in a real sense. More like a romantic danger. You know how love triangles are, and if you manage to win one of them over, you'll have to deal with the other. But our friend Peter here is a bit too dramatic. He's a literature professor and has lost track of what's fiction and what's reality. Stay at Hogwarts for longer, and maybe you'll end up like that too." Bellatrix speaks as if she's trying to convince you of something, and you admit that she could easily persuade you to believe her, but something in you said that Peter wasn't exaggerating.

"My intention is not to meddle in the relationship between Black and Lupin. In fact, I don't even know how that relationship works. I just happened to meet them by chance and get closer." You speak as you walk through the forest. You look up, unable to see the moon and wondering if tonight you would see the hairy creature again. For a moment, you even think it could be a plan of Bellatrix and Peter to bring you into the middle of the forest and get rid of you, but then you start to think that you're being a bit paranoid. After all, why would they want to get rid of you?

"And finally, we've arrived at the quaintest local bar you'll find around here. I'll warn you upfront that not all patrons are good folks, but the beer is good and it's our only option." Bellatrix informs you as the three of you enter the establishment. The design of the place is cozy and simple, like Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother's house. There's a fireplace right at the entrance, near an old and somewhat tattered-looking sofa. Some people are sitting on the sofa, drinking, while others are standing. Most are just having drinks and chatting. Others are smoking while playing pool in a part of the bar that seems to have a door. You imagine it must be the exit.

"I'll have a beer. Actually, make that two beers." You tell the bartender. He's an incredibly tall man with a long beard and hair. Despite not being sure if he heard your order, he nods. Bellatrix is placing her order while Peter seems to have gone to the restroom. He's so quiet, he could be mistaken for a mouse sneaking around.

"Would you like to dance?" Bellatrix asks as she grabs her drink. The bartender apparently didn't hear you, as he passed you a glass of whiskey and then went to serve another customer. You wonder how she plans to dance without music until you see a jukebox near where the smokers are. Bellatrix promptly goes over there and selects a song. "Kill of the Night" is the song she chooses, and she starts dancing with a certain rhythm towards you. You take your whiskey shot and then take Bellatrix's hand as you try to keep up with her pace. It's a dance that mainly involves the feet and hips. You're not the most coordinated person in the world, but you manage to keep up with her, even though she's holding a bottle of beer while dancing.

"Thank you for inviting me to come here. It was kind of you." You say as you're close to her. Then she pulls you closer and gives you a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, catching you by surprise. You quickly push her away, not quite understanding. Not that she isn't attractive, but you just met her. Well, not that you're a prude.

"If you're interested in spending more time with more fun people, now you know where to find me." Bellatrix winks in your direction and heads towards where Peter went. You're not quite sure what to do, but suddenly you feel short of breath. You then head towards the exit of the bar. Bad idea. The more you walk in the same direction you came from, the more you feel lost. Going back would be an option, but you're a bit embarrassed. So you walk even further until you see someone approaching you at some speed. You clench your fists in a defensive position, preparing yourself. When you feel the person's body collide with yours, and you both roll into the forest. You get lost in the moment, feeling some rocks and branches touching your skin as you and the person roll on the ground.

"What the hell are you doing? Trying to kill us both?" You say as soon as you stop rolling after hitting a tree. Your body already shows signs of feeling the impact, but your anger speaks louder. Especially when you realize who it is. Sirius, who is currently positioned right on top of you, says nothing. He just lightly presses his fingers over your mouth and shushes you. His hand smells nice, like vanilla. But you're itching to kick him where it would hurt most and get him off of you. Then you hear a loud, pained howl, as if from a wounded animal. You also notice that Sirius's arm is injured. And it's like a puzzle assembling itself right in front of you.

"Where's Lupin?" You ask, concerned. Sirius looks at you with a serious expression as if he's annoyed that you didn't shut up.

"I'd like to explain, but it'll be better if we stay quiet." Sirius says, almost against your mouth due to how close he is. You stare at him, feeling his blood touch your skin. He's losing a lot of blood. You need to help him.

"I'll distract whatever's coming. You try to find someone to help you. Don't try to be a hero. You'll die if you keep bleeding like this. Just run in a different direction from mine and try to stay alive." You say, gently pushing Sirius's body off of you and then figuring out how to get the creature's attention. Your only option was to do what the creature does best. So you let out a loud howl, trying to mimic the creature's noise. Soon, the sounds of the creature approaching can be heard. Sirius must have noticed that you were truly determined to attract the creature's attention, because he disappeared once you howled. You then started running as if your life depended on it. But before you left, you grabbed a branch. Your feet pound the ground at an unprecedented speed as you flee from the creature. But it's not enough, as somehow the shaggy creature appears in front of you. You have no doubt it's a werewolf. And the creature looks at you as if it knows who you are. It moves as if it's about to come towards you, and you grip the branch as if to attack the creature. And then it occurs to you that perhaps you can speak to the werewolf, especially if it's who you suspect it is.

"Remus, don't make me attack you. I… don't know you as well as I'd like, but I don't want to hurt you. I know. Deep down, you know it too. You don't want to hurt me, just like you didn't want to hurt Sirius. Just try to stay calm. I know it might seem silly, but focus on what's around you. Your home is nearby. Where your students study. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Luna, and many others. They need you." You speak, trying to appeal to the human inside the creature. And for a few seconds, you think you succeeded, until you hear footsteps that distract both you and the creature. And just when it seems like the werewolf is going to attack you, you see four small bodies throwing stones at it. You can bet that Potter, Granger, Weasley, and Malfoy are the students daring enough to venture out of Hogwarts at this hour. Even though Draco might have only come with them because Harry did. You don't have time to think. When you realize that your students might be in danger, you throw your entire body against the werewolf's. You close your eyes tightly to avoid seeing the damage, but you manage to bring the creature down, causing both of you to fall near a stream. Or something like it; you can only hear the sound of water as you begin to lose consciousness.

When dawn breaks, you're unsure if you're alive or how you survived. All you know is that your body is racked with pain. Looking around, you realize that yesterday's events weren't just a dream. Your eyes settle on another person nearby. Despite feeling a bit dizzy, you muster the determination to get up and confirm what you already suspected. The naked man lying unconscious by the stream is Lupin. He's covered in bruises and has a cut near his mouth. So, Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and last night he nearly caused quite a problem. And to top it all off, you'll need to figure out how to carry him somewhere.

To be continued...

[runninriot]

for @steddielovemonth

February 2

prompt: love is bodies touching... by @eyesofshinigami | rated: T | wc: 1160 | post S4, everybody lives, dealing with post UD trauma, Eddie takes care of Steve, Steve is bad at feelings, emotional hurt/comfort, open ending

Healing

Eddie can’t take it anymore. For days now he’s been watching Steve suffer in silence. He doesn’t know what happened but something has been weighing him down. He looks tired, exhausted. Like he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in forever. Like maybe the nightmares are back and with them the fear. Like maybe he’s seeing the monsters again, whenever he closes his eyes.

Eddie knows Steve doesn’t like to talk about it, about his worries and fears. That Steve likes to pretend that he’s strong, tougher than the rest of them. That he isn’t afraid of the dark. That years of fighting monsters and surviving literal torture have not taken their toll on him.

It’s bullshit. And Eddie tried so many times to get him to talk about it or even just to make him listen. Tried to tell him that it is normal to feel helpless, and weak, and small sometimes. That it is okay. That he’s allowed to be scared just like the rest of them. But Steve never gives in, always says he’s fine.

Eddie knows he is definitely not. Can see it in the worry line between his furrowed brows, can see it in the way he hunches his shoulders, can see it in the dark circles under his eyes. He can see it in the way Steve flinches at loud, unexpected noises or the tiniest flickers of light.

He decided to try and take Steve’s mind off the horrors in other ways. That’s why he invited him over to spend some time talking shit, drinking beer, doing things young adults are supposed to do – be silly, live life; not fighting monsters. Not real ones, not those haunting their dreams.

They’re sitting on Eddie’s bed with their backs against the wall. Eddie is playing a song on his guitar that took him ages to learn because his body still hasn’t fully recovered, is still stiff and achy in so many places. But he’s doing fine, knows it’ll take time but it won’t be like this forever. Healing takes time, he’s come to accept, wishes Steve would too.

Steve sits beside him, faraway look in his eyes. Like he’s not really there, like his mind is trapped somewhere else. And Eddie wants to shake him, wants to crack open his skull and push his fingers into his frontal lobe, rearrange his synapses or whatever is in control of his reasoning and behaviour. He wants to tear down the walls Steve has put up to protect those vulnerable parts of him he doesn’t allow himself to have.

Eddie has had enough.

He puts down his guitar, the sound of the instrument connecting with the hardwood floor snaps Steve out of his trance-like state, brings him back to the here and now where the real monsters are gone forever but the ones in your head remain.

   “Steve, can- can I hold you?”

The question obviously catches Steve off-guard. He looks at Eddie with big eyes, honest confusion written on his face.

   “What?”

   “Can I hold you?”

It takes every ounce of courage to repeat his own words; his brain only now catching on to what he actually said.

He expects Steve to laugh or maybe even get angry at the sheer audacity to ask something like that. But Steve just looks at him, sadness in his eyes paired with something else, something soft.

And then without a warning, Eddie feels something slump against his chest, feels arms wrap around his middle, a face buried in the crook of his neck. Steve clings to him like a lifeline and Eddie instantly catches him in his arms, holds him tight against his own body. Envelopes Steve in as much of himself as possible, forming a shield, a barrier between Steve and the world.

Eddie tightens his embrace when he feels something wet on the side of his neck, hears the muffled sound of heart-breaking sobs, feels Steve break and crumble within his arms.

   “It’s okay,” Eddie whispers, hopes Steve hears him, believes him that it is.

   “You can let it all out. I’m here. Just let it go.”

Steve does. Cries, and cries, and cries, like he’s unable to stop. Buries himself deeper in Eddie’s hold as if he wants to crawl inside him. His fingers digging almost painfully through the shirt into Eddie’s back but that’s okay. Eddie lets him, doesn’t care if he’ll end up with bruises, doesn’t care about the collar of his shirt being drenched in Steve’s tears. It’s okay. It feels good. To have Steve’s body so close to his own, to give comfort and offer protection, offer the safety of his arms for Steve to let himself fall into.

   “I’ve got you,” Eddie says, feels his own tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. It feels liberating, somehow.

Eddie doesn’t recall when it happened, at what point they went from sitting to lying next to each other. But it doesn’t matter, just feels right to hold Steve like that. Their bodies so close Eddie doesn’t know where one ends and the other begins; legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other, chest to chest, Steve’s face still pressed against Eddie’s neck.

And even when the crying has died down and his breathing slows, Steve refuses to let go.

   “Sweetheart, can you look at me?”

The pet name comes easy, rolls over his tongue so naturally it should be worrying but Eddie can’t concentrate on that right now.

He feels Steve shake his head, once again tightening his grip on Eddie’s body.

   “C’mon, Stevie. Please?”

Eddie gently tries to pull back, not letting go of Steve, just giving him some room to breathe and move.

   “I’m sorry.” Steve’s voice is frail, trembling. His eyes are red and glassy, so pretty even when he looks so defeated.

   “Don’t be.” Eddie brushes a thumb along the other boy’s cheek bone, gently wiping at the invisible remnants of already dried tears.

His heart beats a funny rhythm when Steve leans into the touch, feels like breaking and stitching itself back together all at once.

   “Thank you,” Steve says, smiles wearily up at Eddie from where his head still rests on his shoulder.

The silence that follows doesn’t feel awkward, feels more soothing than anything. It’s the calm after the storm, like the moment where dark clouds finally make way for sunshine again after days of never-ending rain. And there’s a shift in the atmosphere; Eddie is sure Steve can feel it too. There’s something evolving between them, something that might change the course of their future together.

Something that has too much weight to be called by its name, to be said out loud. Not yet, not now. They just keep holding each other, feeling each other.

And that's okay because sometimes, love is bodies touching. Just two people finding refuge in one another’s embrace.

It is enough, for now.

Healing comes first, anything else can wait.

[kylie-writes-stuff]

heyyy was wondering if you did hcs and if you did could I request dating charlie kelly ones?? i cannot stop thinking thoughts

dating charlie kelly hcs!!

a/n: AHHH i love this i have so so many thoughts!! these are like my personal hcs but i still hope these make sense and i have a good grasp on his character. i think i do after watching 15 seasons multiple times but idk. let me know! thank you and i hope you enjoy it!! <33

not my gif!

charlie absolutely adores you!! he looks at you and just has absolute heart eyes

he’s also very obsessive (to a certain extent, not like with the waitress (unless you’re into that))

when you first met, god, he was so awkward. he thought he was constantly making a fool of himself but you found him very endearing :)

sometimes still can’t believe that you’re actually together

he LOVES stealing getting you gifts whenever he can

he hangs onto every word you say so he knows your interests very well. when he sees anything related to them, wether it be a shirt, a keychain, action figures, or even just little trinkets he think you’d like, he just has to get it for you

you get little gifts for him too and he loves them. cherishes each and every one

charlie’s doesn’t really like being touched but you’re definitely an exception

especially after coming home from a long day of doing charlie work at the bar. all he wants is for you to hold him and run your fingers through his hair while some random show plays on the TV

he’s the only one who ever actually does work at Paddy’s, but if you work with the gang he 100% procrastinates just so he can spend time talking to you at the bar

always trying to get you on board with whatever latest scheme him, or the gang, has because he just always wants to spend time with you. doesn’t matter what you guys are doing

dennis often flirts with you, mainly just to get on charlie’s nerves, and you always turn him down. charlie trusts you more than he’s ever trusted anyone (besides maybe Mac), but he can’t help but still feel possessive

not a big fan of PDA but will always wrap an arm around your waist or shoulder as his little way of saying “hey back off, they’re mine”

will also brush against your arm and leave just little touches throughout the day, especially when no one else is around

not that he doesn’t like showing affection in front of others!! he’s not like embarrassed or anything. in fact, he loves showing you off

he would just rather save all the cuddly stuff for when you guys are alone, away from the worries of the world

i feel like one of his main love languages is definitely acts of service.

oh you’re afraid of spiders? he’s immediately squashing them with his shoe the second he sees one in your apartment

will try to make you dinner. it usually goes fine but if he ends up burning it then, hey, it’s the thought that counts. you’re still super appreciative and give him a hug and kiss, before ordering take out for the two of you

anything he can do for you, he will do for you. even if it’s something as simple as getting you a beer from the fridge after a long day

if you’re always sleepy in the morning, he knows that about you. when you tiredly get out of bed, forced to start your day, he’ll wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back into bed. he’ll mumble something about a few more minutes and the two of you just stay in bed for a while, content in each other’s arms.

he loves to just observe you. like if you’re running around the bar, serving drinks, he’ll just watch and admire you.

the two of you absolutely adore each other. the gang teases you often but you guys don’t care. and the gang will never flat out admit it, but they’re happy for the both of you :)

little extra i think about often:

charlie has a soft spot for cats. if you happen to be a cat person too? you two are definitely going to the shelter and adopting one together

you’re content spending the majority of your time at home with just charlie and your cat. and so is he

he loves the gang, of course, but you’re his sanctuary. his safe place amongst all the chaos in his life.

spending time together on the couch, eating snacks and watching movies, with your cat cuddled up on your lap, is the perfect night to both of you <33

[bumblesimagines]

Midnight Beach

Part 19

Request: Yes or No

Taglist: @nathan-no @hyubg @ash455   @gills-lounge

~~~

The sun hadn't risen yet, and the world around them had been reduced to a gentle blue that slowly lightened with each passing minute. Small goosebumps spread across his arms, skin cool from the early morning chill. He would've put on his shirt if a certain blonde hadn't taken it for herself sometime during the night. Sarah remained curled at his side with her head on his chest and arms loosely draped over his stomach, quiet snores escaping her.

His shirt looked bigger on her, with the hem reaching her bare thighs. The bikini top and shorts she'd been wearing the previous day rested beside them, covered in specks of sand and waiting to be put on again. He took in the silence around them, the feeling of peace and tranquility before the other Kooks began to rouse and he'd be forced to wake the girl. (Y/N) wondered what she'd say, and every thought surrounded regret. 

One of the nearby tents unzipped and he tilted his head, skin flushing with embarrassment and mild shame when he noticed Liv stepping out. She paused and stared at him through squinted tired eyes, and once she processed the sight of Sarah Cameron practically sprawled out over him, she shook her head in disappointment. He released a breath and carefully pushed himself up, his movements causing the blonde to stir and grunt quietly, head groggily lifting and brows knitting in disoriented confusion. 

"Get up, Sarah. We have to go home." (Y/N) told her gently, slipping from her grasp and standing up. He spotted Kelce's shirt half buried in the sand and picked it up from the ground, shaking it free of the sand and slipping it on. Not the best fit, but it'd have to do until he got home. He glanced toward the sun when it peeked over the horizon and sighed quietly, avoiding meeting Sarah's eyes as he walked around the bonfire in search of anything that any of them owned. 

"I think it's common sense not to fuck your ex, especially if they're in a relationship," Liv murmured as she stopped at his side, lifting her brows at him. His heart felt heavy at her words. He didn't particularly like John B and he knew for a fact the brunette hated his guts, but he'd never wish the pain of a partner cheating on anyone.

"I wasn't exactly planning on hooking up with her, Liv. It just... happened. I can't go back in time."

"You can't go back in time but you can definitely stop it from 'just happening' again in the future, (Y/N)! Listen, I'm sure Sarah is a great friend to you and the little shitbirds she hangs out with. I'm sure she'd do anything to help you if push comes to shove. But you can't deny that all she's done since meeting those shitbirds is cause you problems. Can't you see it? I mean, look at Kie! She was a good, hardworking girl on her way to being top of her class until she went back to them and now all her parents do is worry about her wellbeing because her life has gone downhill. I.. I don't want you to end up a high school dropout who's forced to live off his parents cause of a bad friend group and some shitty decisions. You're smarter than that." She gently cupped his forearm with her palm, the hardness in her voice giving way to a softer tone. Liv stared at him with all the concern and sweetness that she reserved just for him, just for her so-called 'brother from another mother', and gave his arm a squeeze. 

"Morning, ya'll," Topper's raspy, groggy voice called out from the nearby half-zipped tent. He clumsily unzipped the rest and staggered out, knuckles rubbing against his eyes and face scrunched up. Kelce's soundly sleeping form lied further within the tent, sprawled out and with a beer can resting idly next to his hand. Topper zipped the tent back up and stretched out his arms, grunting quietly and glancing around the messy beach until he caught sight of Sarah wiggling on her shorts. With eyes nearly bulging out of his head, he whipped around to look at (Y/N) with a slacked jaw. 

"Don't." (Y/N) hissed sharply and Topper's mouth clamped shut, stiffly nodding but the small grin he failed to wipe off his face told him the blonde would be bringing the topic up again. 

"So," Topper drawled and clasped his hands together, head turning in the direction of Sarah who pointedly refused to meet any of their eyes. "How 'bout we get ourselves some breakfast?"

The ride back to the mainland had been a deathly quiet one. With Liv nursing a growing headache, Topper frantically texting his angered mother, and the realization of what they'd done setting in for Sarah and (Y/N), none of the teens had much to say to each other. The boat eventually reached one of the many restaurants sitting at the edge of the water and Topper hopped out onto the wooden deck, making quick work of getting the boat secured. He seemed awfully upbeat and gleeful, unlike the sluggish Liv who followed him up the steps and into the restaurant. 

"God, I'm starving," Topper groaned, the heavenly smell of cooking bacon wafting through the air and making (Y/N)'s stomach rumble. Sitting down at one of the many unoccupied tables, Liv took one swift look over the menu before dropping her head down on the table, with enough force to make the silverware clatter. The typical theatrics of Liv.

"She's fine." (Y/N) murmured, running his eyes over the breakfast options on the menu, the hunger toiling in his stomach only growing. With all his attention focused on it, he hardly noticed the feeling of something brushing against his knee until it happened twice, thrice, and then one last time. He shifted in his seat and tilted his legs in the other direction. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Sarah glancing up at him, her eyes glimmering from the sunlight pouring in beside her and he raised the menu further to block her from view. 

"The eggs are so good here- Oh, and the french toast is fucking delicious." Topper spoke, as oblivious to the slowly forming tension as always, and continued rattling on and on about each of his favorite menu options until it began to sound like he favored all of them. (Y/N)'s lip twitched up in amusement and he exhaled softly, setting his menu down on the shiny wooden table and waiting for the waitress to pop by. 

"Shit." He heard Sarah hiss quietly and he tilted his head in her direction. Sarah's eyes peeked over the top of her menu and when they connected with his, she subtly nodded her head toward the front of the restaurant. His brows furrowed slightly at the panic in her eyes and he craned his neck to peer over his shoulder, easily spotting the familiar curly-haired brunette standing by the counter. Kiara flashed the girl at the cash register a polite smile as she braced herself against the counter and began surveying the room until her attention landed on the four of them.

Kiara's lips pulled into a small smile at first and her fingers lifted to wave before her brain processed the two kooks sitting beside them. Her fingers curled toward her palm and her brows lowered, head turning away from them to grab a box and to-go order. The deep frown on her face spoke volumes, and it'd been enough to get Sarah to rise from her chair. Her hand snatched the collar of (Y/N)'s shirt and gave it a tug, causing him to sigh heavily and follow her outside.

"Kie! Kei, please, wait," Sarah called out desperately and rushed down the steps to catch up with the fast-paced brunette. "We're just having breakfast. You should come join us."

"Breakfast?" Kiara repeated, stepping down into her father's boat and setting down the box. Her long braid whipped over her shoulder when she spun around to face them, brows lifting as her mouth formed a scoff. "Sarah, you're literally wearing (Y/N)'s shirt."

"Listen, I- I had nowhere to go last night, okay? John B and I- We got into a fight and I couldn't find anyone else to stay with. We hung out at Mase with Top and Liv. That's it. Nothing else happened, I promise." Sarah stuttered out an explanation and turned to him pleadingly, the pure desperation on her face doing little to tug on his heartstrings. 

"Nothing happened." (Y/N) echoed and Kiara's eyes narrowed. "Nothing happened, Kie. You don't have to worry about anything, I swear. I was actually wondering if I could bring Josie Bekkar to your parents' party. I'm sure she's already invited but I just want to double-check."

"Josie Bekkar? Wow, uhm, yeah. Go for it." The suspicion on Kiara's face dissipated in seconds and she quietly snorted under her breath, attempting to hide it by scratching the bridge of her nose. Sarah stared at him with furrowed brows and parted lips, her slightly widened eyes flickering between his. (Y/N) simply smiled and nodded toward the boat.

"You should go, Sarah. The Carreras were busy with family stuff, right? They'll probably appreciate some help setting things up. I'll drop your things off later." He casted Kiara one last glance before turning around and heading up back up the steps. Back to his real friends, his real family. 

                    ✽        ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽       ✽

"It's been so long since I've seen any of these people," Rachel muttered quietly as they strode further into the heart of the party. Mike and Anna's 15th anniversary, and they'd hosted a big party to celebrate their relationship and the return of their daughter. Rachel flashed her perfectly curated smile at anyone who glanced their way and heavily eyed the beverages offered for the adults. She swiped her hand over her son's arm and stepped away, approaching the Carreras with a wide, beautifully fake smile. His father, Joseph, rolled his eyes and (Y/N) began wishing he'd stayed home. 

"Thanks for bringing me." Josie, right. 

"It's no problem, Jo." He smiled and she giggled, flipping some hair over her shoulder and batting her eyelashes at him. Joseph grunted and muttered a quick excuse about getting food before slipping away toward the snack table. They couldn't even stay together as a family unit. (Y/N) exhaled through his nose and looked back at Josie with the same smile he'd inherited from his mother. "Thirsty?"

"Oh, yes. I'm parched." 

"I'll get us some drinks, then." He slipped his hand out of hers and made his way around chatting and dancing guests until he reached the table holding the punch bowl. He only had time to get one cup before Kiara appeared at his side, voice light and high-pitched as she laughed at something someone said, then turned to him with a grimace. She casually took the cup from his hand and drank from it, sighing heavily when she looked over the people present.

"I still can't believe you brought Josie Bekkar. I mean, I get it, she looks great. Just never thought you'd be into geeks like Pope." Kiara chuckled into the cup and tilted her head back to catch the last of the punch. (Y/N) resisted the urge to bring up her own relationship with Pope and instead shrugged, retrieving another cup and pouring punch into it. Sadly for him, slim fingers wrapped around the base of the cup and swiftly took it from him. 

"Seriously?" (Y/N) groaned and turned, breath nearly catching in his throat at the sight of Sarah. She smiled cheekily at him, lips glittering from the gloss she had applied, and sipped from the cup. Her typical straight hair had been curled at the ends, bringing out the fading blonde and the eye-catching brown roots settling in. She'd gone for a natural makeup look that suited her perfectly and wore the pretty yellow dress with white floral patterns he'd convinced her to buy ages ago. It stung, just slightly, to see her in it. 

"You look nice," Sarah said softly, twinkling eyes dropping down to the plain white button-up he wore. He hadn't gone for anything fancy, just a simple shirt, dress pants, and dress shoes. He'd mimicked his father in unbuttoning the first couple of buttons and rolled up the sleeves the minute he felt the heat of the evening. 

"You do too." He breathed and noticed Kiara's gaze flicker between them curiously. Sarah swiped her tongue over her lips and finished her cup, the previous pride on her face disappearing and replaced by a more serious look. She took in a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder for any nosy ears before stepping closer to them.

"Ward's on the island." She revealed quietly and Kiara's head shot up with widened eyes. (Y/N)'s posture stiffened. "He... He used Wheezie to send me a voice message. He gave me the key to a condo and a credit card."

"Ward's on this island? Like, the one we're on right now?" Kiara questioned, mouth agape and brows tucked in. First Rafe, who had luckily steered clear of the (L/N) house, and now Ward fucking Cameron. The dream of being home had soured into a nightmare. "Christ... I swear, the second I see him, I'm turning him in. I don't know how you deal with it, Sarah. I mean, every time I want to complain about my dad, I think about your guys' dad." 

"Glad to be of service." 

"So sweet of you to say, Kie."

"Anytime." Kiara grinned widely and bumped her hip against (Y/N)'s, pulling a small smile out of the teen. Sarah dug her teeth into her bottom lip as she gazed at (Y/N)'s face, watching his eyes meet hers and then flicker away while he finally poured himself two cups of punch. He glanced over his shoulder and she followed his line of sight, spotting Josie mingling with their neighbors and feeling a stabbing feeling in her gut. He turned back to them and opened his mouth to bid them farewell, but her hand shot out to grab his arm and stop him. 

"I need to talk to you." She said hurriedly, fingers lightly tightening around the fabric of his shirt. (Y/N) blinked at her, still clutching the two cups in his hands. The sound of mic feedback interrupted the music and drew their attention away from each other and onto the stage where Mike and Anna Carrera stood. Mike smiled awkwardly and chuckled into the mic. 

"Uhm, I just want to say a few words, and I'm not much into giving speeches, but I do want to say thank you for coming out and thank you for your support after a rough month. I want to say thank you to our daughter for being here. Hey... we love you. But most of all, thank you, Anna, for fifteen years, for making this restaurant a symbol of our life. I love you." Mike smiled widely at his wife, gazing at her with all the love in the world. Anna laughed and dipped her head bashfully before murmuring the words back to him. Mike slipped his arm around her and pulled her snugly into his side before addressing the crowd again. "Figure Eight, the Cut. Everyone's together here. As one island. So, thank you for putting up with us. Cheers." 

(Y/N) watched with unsurprising bitterness as Kiara strolled over to her parents with a smile. They embraced her eagerly and cradled her in their arms, looking at her as if she hung up the sun in the sky. Anna stroked her cheek affectionately and pulled her daughter in, tenderly kissing her forehead and giggling when Kiara squirmed in her arms and groaned. He hated the prickly feeling at the back of his eyes and forced himself to look away, raising one cup to his lips and wishing it'd been tainted with some alcohol. He slipped past Sarah and returned to Josie, quietly apologizing for the delay and taking a seat on the nearest empty chair. 

Pursing her lips, Josie rubbed her finger against the ridges of the cup. "I-I just have to ask, (Y/N). Are you and Sarah, like, over? I know you've been through a lot together and I know she's with that weird guy from the Cut but..." 

"We're not secretly together if that's what you're asking, Jo. You-" (Y/N) sharply inhaled and propped his arm up to rub his forehead. His eyes wandered around the party until he spotted Sarah speaking to John B. His jaw twitched, threatening to clench but he forced himself to relax. "I like hanging out with you, I do. But things are really complicated right now. I just... I need to figure some things out and I don't want to string you along." 

Could complicated even begin to describe the hurricane passing through this life? His parents, his new and past friends, the wild goose chases and the treasures, Sarah? Only a few months prior, he'd been a normal guy living a normal life. His only concerns were college and dealing with pompous assholes until the Pogues turned the tide, changed the course of his life, and set him directly on the path of a storm. Normalcy felt like a distant dream he wouldn't be able to attain. 

Before he could drown in an ocean of self-loathing and crippling thoughts, Josie gently tilted his chin up and smiled sweetly. "We can be friends. And my first duty as your new friend is getting your mood up before Liv gets here and thinks I'm an uncool Debbie Downer." (Y/N) snorted and allowed himself to laugh, graciously taking her hand and rising up from his seat. 

(Y/N) let himself enjoy the day, dancing with Josie and the others with a genuine smile on his face. Liv practically collapsed into his arms the moment she arrived and whined about the heels she wore, yet outright refused to take them off in the name of having a great outfit. Just as promised, Josie and his friends lifted his moods significantly and everything clicked into place. No danger, no running, no worrying for his life. Everything felt okay... up until he noticed Sarah chugging an unattended glass of wine with obvious tear streaks on her face. Christ, couldn't John B go a day without hurting someone's feelings?

"I'll be back." He murmured to Liv and pulled away from her side, already hearing the scolding she'd give him after the party. Swiping some napkins from a table, he approached Sarah and took the glass from her. She hiccuped softly and clumsily rubbed at her wet cheeks but her eyes remained watery with tears. He gently took her cheek and delicately dabbed at her cheeks, sighing softly. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered and the hot tears slipped from her eyes. "I ruin everything. I-I fuck everything up. God, why do you even bother with me?"

"Because I care about you, Sarah. I know you're a good person at heart." He answered and dropped his hands to his sides. Her lips quivered and she sniffled again, stumbling toward him and wrapping her arms around his waist. Her head leaned against his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck, her body easing its trembles as she took in his warmth and comfort. (Y/N) draped his arm around her shoulders, content with comforting her until the crying ceased. 

Glass shattered from behind him and they pulled apart to look, spotting a furious John B heading straight for them. Sarah quickly detached herself from him with a soft gasp and moved forward, quiet pleading falling from her lips as she met him halfway. Her pleading fell on deaf ears, however, seeing as he pushed her aside and gave (Y/N) a hard shove. He stumbled back and caught himself on the table behind him, a heat of anger washing over him.

"Fuck you, man." John B seethed. "I never once believed that bullshit nice guy act. You prance around here acting so great when you slept with my fucking girlfriend, you piece of shit!" 

"Guess you don't like getting a taste of your own medicine, huh? But I guess I shouldn't have expected less from a guy who parties while his 'girlfriend's grieving the death of her father. Real charming of you, John." (Y/N) spat back, maintaining his tone evenly and smoothing out his crinkled shirt with the palm of his hand. John B's jaw clenched and his eyes flickered around when the people around them began murmuring lowly. 

"I was giving her space!" He barked defensively.

"Did your friend give you space when you thought your dad died, asshole? No, they didn't. They stuck by you 'cause they're good people. You're just the guy who got lucky a pretty girl even spoke to him in the first place. You could learn a thing or two from Pope or J." (Y/N) liked the way John B's ears burned hot red with embarrassment and the Pogue let out a humorless, sharp chuckle.

"Of course, Mr. Perfect is lecturing me. Mr. Perfect who always knows what to say or do. Always cheers everyone up. Always has everyone wrapped around his perfect little finger. I bet you were just so perfect your parents couldn't handle it. Maybe that's why they left you alone all these years." The air escaped (Y/N)'s lungs and his shoulders deflated, the venomous words slithering around his brain. Sarah slapped John B on the arm and glared at him fiercely while Kiara hissed his name angrily. The disapproving looks sent John B's way turned pitying the second they moved onto him. Pity, always pity. He took in a breath and released it in a dry laugh. 

"Then, I guess you must be perfect too considering your mom skipped town when you were a baby. I mean, shit, you've gone missing like twice now and she hasn't even bothered showing her face around here. And we certainly can't forget daddy dearest 'cause fuck, I can't imagine leaving my son to deal with all my shit and not even caring enough to reach out. I think we ought to give him a Father of the Year award for that one, don't you think?" His lips curled up into a grin and John B pushed Sarah aside one last time to lunge for him. A mop of bleached hair stepped into view, arms shoving John B back before he could get close to (Y/N). Topper pressed a hand against (Y/N)'s chest and extended the other out toward the fuming John B.

"Let's all calm down, alright? There's no need to ruin Mr. and Mrs. Carrera's day with-" Before Topper could finish speaking, John B swung his fist and connected it with Topper's jaw, hard enough for Topper to stumble and trip over his own feet. Sarah shrieked John B's name but he refused to listen, the pure rage in his eyes deadset on the fallen Kook. Topper cradled his jaw and lifted his head only for John B to swing at him again, and again, and again. 

Breaking out of his momentary shock, (Y/N) darted forward and grabbed the back of John B's collar. He tore him off the unconscious Topper and while John B attempted to regain his foot, (Y/N) clocked him hard enough to knock him onto the grass with a low groan. Mike rushed in and pushed (Y/N) back as Topper's mother cradled her son's head in her lap and screamed for an ambulance to be called. (Y/N) moved to step toward John B again but Anna stepped in his way and grasped his arms.

"Baby, baby, no, that's enough." She urged softly, in the same tone she used on Kiara when she and her father argued. (Y/N) took in a couple deep breaths to calm his racing heart but his eyes watched JJ rush over and help John B up onto his feet while Mike shouted at them to get out and followed them until they left. Sarah stared at him helplessly and teary-eyed, the start of an apology forming on her lips but he turned away from her. 

[icedragonlizard]

DMK and Daroach friendship headcanons

I headcanon these two being close buds. Heck, I'd actually even go as far as to consider them these two shadowy bozos to be best friends.

Dark Meta Knight doesn't have a lot of friends in my headcanons... he's really only friends with Kirby and the rest of wave 2, as he couldn't care less about the rest of the dream friends. But he's grown to be quite endeared to Daroach. And Daroach genuinely thinks that DMK is the coolest person in existence. These two are literally bros.

They met during Star Allies. Even when they first met, they... were already drawn to each other? Daroach was very intrigued to meet a shadier counterpart of Meta Knight, and figured that he'd go and hang around with the guy. Fortunately for him, that ended up working, as DMK ended up being drawn to the vibes and style that Daroach had, something he didn't do for most of the other star allies.

When the star allies split up into groups, these two were in the same group alongside Adeleine and Ribbon. Wave 2 as a whole was a group adventuring together during a lot of the time in Star Allies' events.

DMK and Daroach enjoyed kicking the asses of the cult's forces together. Daroach was generous enough to give elemental powers to DMK's sword on many occasions, beating up enemies in new ways.

They both also protected Adeleine and Ribbon from the cult's forces.

The wave 2 quartet bonded more closely after Star Allies, as they had a fun road-trip together (wave 1 also had a fun road-trip together, as did wave 3). Adeleine and Ribbon were already besties before Star Allies, but the road-trip made Daroach and DMK become besties.

Post-SA, Daroach and DMK visit each other regularly. DMK has set up a dimensional mirror somewhere in Sacred Square that Daroach uses to get to the mirror world to visit him. The first few times DMK attempted to vacation on Popstar, Daroach was the guy that helped show him around on the planet, and the squeaks' hideout is the place that DMK resorts to whenever he sleeps in Popstar on vacations.

The entire squeak squad likes DMK. They think he's the most badass dude ever. They ask him to show off by destroying random things.

What friendly activities do DMK and Daroach to together? Many things, in fact. Daroach has dragged DMK out of his comfort zone to do fun stuff. The things they do together include board games, truth-or-dare games, drinking beer, and some mischief during nighttime.

When Daroach visits the mirror world, DMK joins him in robberies in random places there. It's just some stupid fun they have together.

Daroach knows that DMK is still devoted to Dark Mind, but that doesn't really bother him all that much. He's able to keep DMK in check from going too far in nefarious plans with Dark Mind, even.

Overall, these are shadowy partners doing shadowy stuff.

Adeleine and Ribbon also come by sometimes to hang out with them.

Another big thing is that Daroach puts in effort to increase DMK's sense of humor, which was rather low at first. Daroach keeps cracking bunches of bad jokes. DMK at times can't admit but have dumb giggles to some of those terrible jokes every now and then.

They're also just about always right beside one another during star ally meetings that happen four times a year. This is partially because DMK is unpopular in the group and is prone to getting into fights with some of the other star allies. Daroach sticks right beside him to be emotional support and to help ensure that he doesn't get into fights.

The statement of DMK being rather unpopular in star ally gatherings is not an exaggeration, by the way. He fails miserably at getting along with the other ex-villains, with Daroach being the sole exception.

Dark Meta Knight does not at all get along with Marx, Taranza, Susie and Magolor. He despises all four of them. He's very prone to getting into fights with any of those four by just simply being nearby them.

And he doesn't really get along that well with the mage sisters either. He doesn't necessarily hate them as much as Marx + Wave 3 as they don't quite bother him as much, but he still doesn't care about them.

This means that overall, DMK has a rather poor track record in how he interacts with most of the other ex-villain dream friends. But Daroach is the pure exception to that. DMK and Daroach are buddies.

Daroach knows and understands that certain people do not like DMK, but that doesn't deter him. He himself thinks that the guy is super cool regardless, and he's not trying to get everyone to like the guy. He understands that DMK has moral issues, but he still sees the good in him and lets him know that he's appreciated. He believes in him.

Despite DMK being rather detached, he genuinely really likes Daroach. DMK really likes his fellow wave 2ers, but Daroach can be considered his best friend. He's let his guard down around Daroach.

And so that basically sums up the friendship of these dark dudes.

Yeah. I know that I portray Dark Meta Knight to have poor relationships with certain other dream friends, but he and Daroach are genuine pals. Although it's a little funny how much they differ in personality, as Daroach is very chill and laidback while DMK is bad-tempered and brutal. But Daroach is very easily capable of putting up with assholes, in my opinion. He's got all the patience in the world.

See y'all on the next one.

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day One: Song Fic @rowaelinscourt

Back by no one’s demands but my own: a part two and conclusion to “Annie” the song fic I wrote for last year.  This one does end happier, I pinky promise.  Inspired by Mat Kearney’s song “New York to California.”  If you’ve been around for a while, you know Mat is one of those artists that I adore and his music means so much to me.  I also just really wanted to conclude “Annie” and NYtCA just hits different…anyways, I hope you enjoy?  You technically don’t need to read Annie if you don’t want to.

Rowaelin Month 2023 Masterlist Main Masterlist Annie—Part One

Warnings: she’s a touch angsty, nothing worse than how I usually go.  ~3k words

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

New York to California

Before

She doesn’t know if it’s late or early when sleep takes her.  For weeks now she’s been trapped behind a gray haze.  It falls over her mind and tries to convince her that nothing really matters anymore.  It’s far too easy to fall victim to that mindset, and usually she does better at chasing the demons away.  Usually it’s easier.

So as she drifts off, she’s just glad for a taste of some relief from the day.  It’s been hard lately, too hard.  And she doesn’t know how she’ll break free from it.

Maybe, for that reason alone, it’s better that she falls asleep.  It can be the reprieve from her foster father and the ways the world has a way of crashing down around her.

The problem is, she forgets how easily the dreams find her.   They invade this quiet space she’s tried to carve out for herself so easily that sometimes she doubts her sanity.  Because the dreams are full of shadows and screams, pain and panic.  She wants to escape them.  More than anything if she could fade away into the gray haze of dawn and linger there—she would.

She’s in the middle of one of those terrors when a gentle hand glides down her cheek and she can hear his voice calling to her.

Fireheart.  Fireheart.

When her eyes open it’s to find him staring down at her, green eyes flickering with the light of the TV, his hoodie drenched with rain.  She can see the worry reflecting in his eyes as he brings his hand back to her cheek.  His thumb runs in soothing circles along her skin.

“I had one of those dreams again,” she whispers.  She doesn’t want to admit it, doesn’t want to cause him more pain.  But it’s Rowan.  And he’s always been a part of her. “I thought I lost you.”

“It’s alright,” he says, easing onto the couch beside her. “Everything’s alright, I’m here.”

Aelin knows she shouldn’t, but she snuggles into his side nonetheless.  He smells like pine and rain and earth and it’s the most comforting thing she can imagine.  So she leans into him and wraps her arms tight around him so he won’t disappear on her again.

She knows they shouldn’t do this.  Knows he shouldn’t even be here.  If Arobynn finds out Rowan showed up at the house Aelin knows there will be hell to pay.  The only thing that gives her hope is that her foster father is gone on a work trip.  He won’t be back until Thursday.  But Aelin lives in a constant state of fear as her mind lingers on the “what-ifs” of it all.

“It’s alright, baby,” Rowan says.  He presses his lips into her forehead and pulls the fleece blanket over them.  “I’m right here with you.”

She lets his words wash over her and soothe her own worries.  He’s never steered her wrong before, never left her unless he had to.  And even than he lingers still.  Because that Rowan, her Rowan, can temper any storm raging in her mind.

As he holds her close, she can make out the scent of cheap beer and cigarettes.  She knows he was singing at the bar again tonight, trying to earn some cash for the two of them to finally breakaway from this damned town.

“Don’t leave,” she says, slurred with sleep and exhaustion. His warmth is all she needs to drift back off to sleep, missing what he whispers to her next.

…

After

The coffee shop is the same as it always is: loud and hot. 

No matter when Aelin comes, there is always line out the door and every table is occupied by no one that actually has to be there.  She has decided it is a ruse designed by society in general to make coffee shops more appealing.  Supposedly they can offer you a sense of peace and comfort and delude you into thinking that you’re right where you belong—mixed up in a mess of people just as desperate for connection as you.

So yes, the coffee shop is always full.  Single patrons take up tables for just themselves and their selfies and little cookies that they won’t actually eat.  And straw liners are somehow strewn about the floor even though straws have been banned in the city for almost a year now.  And somehow the heater is always going even in the middle of summer but no one ever comments because it is a coffee shop so therefore everything is perfect.

But it’s not.  Everything is so far from perfect that Aelin has more than once found herself stumbling through life.  She’s lost in a world that has passed her by all because her foster father beat her down.  All because she stayed behind and let the one good thing in her life leave.

She doesn’t blame him, of course.  She can’t.  He was always too good for this place anyways.  He always had a way about him that said he wouldn’t step back from a fight.

It’s what she loves most about him.

Because of course she still loves him.

Rowan Whitethorn was, and still is, the best thing to ever happen to her.  From the time they were kinds to the inevitable night that finally pulled them apart—Rowan had been all she ever needed.

He left the city the second he could after his music managed to get him free.  He’d tried to take her with him, tried to say that he’d take care of her and that everything would be alright with just the two of them.

But Aelin knew then that it wasn’t that simple.  It never would be.

Except now, Arobynn is dead.  Dead and no longer tormenting her daily.  Instead, he’s just another terror in her dreams.

They’ve gotten better though, the nightmares.  They don’t come every night and even when they do, it’s easier to chase them away now.  Because she’s free.

And sometimes, if she’s lucky, Rowan will be there.  He’s always had a way of climbing into her dreams and staying right where he’s needed.  Even though he’s not physically here he’s still the greatest source of comfort to her.

She tries to shake the thoughts of him away.  They won’t do her any good.  No matter how badly she wishes they could, that he was there with her.  Instead, any and all thoughts of him haunt her and remind her of what could have been.

So she opens her laptop, navigating to the article she’s supposed to be editing. 

Somewhere along the way, she managed to pave a small road for herself.  She was even the lead editor on this new addition of Kingsflame, an up and coming magazine.  It took her a while to find her way here, to find something she liked and was just for her.  But she was good at writing, she was good at picking up on details, she was good and weaving a story together.

Just not her own.

Aelin works for a little, trying to give all her attention to the document.  The intern that wrote it is promising and Aelin wants to make sure to nourish a love of writing for her.  Aelin knows first hand what just a taste of approval can do for someone and she wants the girl to grow in her love of words.  Writing is what saved Aelin herself after all.

Sitting back in her seat, Aelin sighs and sips at her coffee.  It’s something dark and bitter—not at all what she usually likes.  She prefers sweet and sugar and all the extra bits but the poor barista behind the counter looked one pumpkin spiced latte away from quitting so Aelin got a simple black coffee.  She added extra packets of sugar herself.  

It’s disgusting.

But she has to admit the caffeine is definitely going straight to her brain.

She takes another long sip when it happens.  The song on the radio changes and she hears a voice that has only been a part of her dreams.  It’s low with the barest hint of his accent.  He’s accompanied by a piano which is different—he’s always preferred the guitar, saying that he’ll leave the piano to her.

Only…she never got the chance to play with him.

And now he’s singing a ballad of love and hope over the speakers of her coffee shop.  And no one notices.  And no one realizes what it means to hear him now.

He’d always promised he’d find his way back to her.  She just thought it was going to be different.

…

Before

There’s a storm billowing through the trees and lashing the windows with rain.  The gray sky is endless as it grows darker with each passing second.  This isn’t any regular storm.  It’s been raging on for over an hour now, bringing in a few rounds of thunder and lightning with it. 

Aelin finds she doesn’t mind it.  Not at all.

Because beside her on the couch is Rowan.  He has an arm wrapped around her as he drifts in and out of sleep.  It’s been a long day of sneaking about, hiding, and worrying.  Now, they just have an hour.  One hour of just the two of them before she has to go back home.

“I miss you,” Rowan says, quiet. 

Aelin isn’t sure she’s heard him properly.  Or maybe he’s talking in his sleep, he does that sometimes.  She runs her fingers through his hair, brushing the silvery locks back from his forehead.

“What did you say?”

Rowan twists, his chin resting on her stomach.  Green eyes stare up at her, dark with longing.

“I miss you,” he repeats, just as quiet.

“I’m right here,” she says.  She doesn’t stop running her fingers through his hair, can’t stop more like it.  It’s grown longer recently and she loves it. 

He doesn’t say anything.  All he does is watch her.  A flash of lightning snaps from outside illuminates his face, turning the shadows beneath his eyes lighter for once.  They’re just kids but it feels like they’ve fought wars already.

Tightening his hold on her, Rowan lets out a small sigh.

“I know,” he says, “but it never feels close enough, does it?”

“You’re just talking,” she says with a low chuckle.  Sometimes, words take on more meaning.  Sometimes, words mean more than they usually do.  And sometimes words are promises that bind you to more than a moment.

He grunts. “No I’m not.”

Her heart thuds at his words, at the feel of him as he sits up slowly, still pressed close to her; only now they’re chest to chest.  He’s so much bigger than Aelin that his frame practically engulfs her.  His broad chest and thick arms are enough to keep her from fidgeting too much though.  Because where else would she rather be?

“No matter what happen, I’ll be here, you know?” he says.  It’s the closest they’ve gotten to talking about the Arobynn situation and how Aelin can’t leave.  No matter what hopes and dreams she might have and share with Rowan.

She’s trapped.

“Rowan,” Aelin begins, she can’t let him say things he doesn’t mean or make promises he can’t keep.

“I’ll never be far enough away that I can’t find you again,” he says.  One finger curls beneath her chin, causing her to look up. “I’d crawl back to you if I had to.”

“I guess I could get used to you being on your knees for me,” she replies.  She wants to ease the moment, to find some levity that doesn’t make her feel like her heart is about be cut open and left to bleed out.

Rowan leans forward until his nose touches hers, until they’re so close that it would be so easy, so easy, to kiss him.  To taste him.  To have a small part of him that she’s wanted for so long.

“Only for you, Fireheart.”

…

After

California bleeds neon lights and smoke on the horizon.

At first, Aelin can only stare at the skyline and bustling streets and the myriad of people passing by like they’ve got all the time in the world.  At first, Aelin can only breathe in the smog that coats the air like a second skin and the underlying musk of sea water. 

She flew into Los Angeles on nothing but a whim and her last paycheck.  Elide told her not to go.  Aedion insisted she at least wait for him to come with her.  Lysandra gave her an extra hundred dollars for an emergency.

Now, she’s wandering the old boardwalks by the ocean, watching waves crash and crowds swarm various popular spots.  She doesn’t know where she is exactly.  All she knows is that she’s nowhere near Hollywood or all the fancy places that she’d always imagined California to have.  But that’s alright.  She’s always found her way in the unknown and unpredictable.  Even if it has been hell.

It's getting late and all she has guiding her is an old news letter she found online.  There’s supposed to be an old grunge bar around here along the downtown scene.  A place that supports those small artists with dreams bigger than reality.

The late fall light fades into the horizon, bringing a chill to the air.  Aelin hadn’t expected it—cool air and gentle breezes.  But she doesn’t mind it.  She’s full or energy and worry, which may as well be a good thing as the combination has kept her from spiraling out of control.

When she enters the bar she already things she’s in the wrong place.  The low lights and heady scent of cigarettes is enough to tell her so.  But she pays a cover fee for the musicians playing and works her way to the front. 

A part of her mind screams that she should have gotten here sooner, that it’s nearing the final acts and she’s missed her opportunity.  Another part of her is convinced that she shouldn’t even be here to begin with.  Afterall, it’s been five years. 

But Aelin knows she would wait for any length of time; she’d always find a way back to his side.  She got out of her own nightmares even if it did take her years.  Maybe she should have called.  She even has his number and has listened to every voicemail he’s left on repeat as if its her own lullaby for the darkest nights.

It takes some effort, but Aelin makes it closer to the stage.  She’s still two rows back, but it’s close enough, she thinks. 

On stage a woman finishes a ballad with her guitar.  The music’s simple and her scratchy voice doesn’t hold the song together—at least in Aelin’s opinion, but she’s so far detached from this world, maybe she doesn’t know anything.

As the woman exits, a young college kid steps up to the microphone.  His hair falls in his face and he’s trying to layer flannel and an old-style t-shirt that doesn’t quite work for him.

“Next up we’ve got our regular,” the kid announces, already pulling away to make room for the final act. “Rowan Whitethorn.”

All around Aelin, the audience erupts into cheers.  They’ve all come for him, she realizes.  All eagerly awaiting the one person Aelin’s been waiting her entire life for.  She wants to cheer, wants to clap, wants to do anything but stand there and stare.  She can’t.

Because walking across the stage to the electric piano set up in the corner is Rowan.  Rowan with his hair too long.  Rowan with an unlit cigarette behind one ear.  Rowan with his da’s guitar case by his side, even now.  Rowan with tan skin and tattoos reflecting in the pale light of the bar.  Her Rowan that she’s loved for longer than she can say.

He doesn’t look up as he adjusts the settings of the piano and strikes a few keys.  He messes with the microphone next, making sure it’s lined up the way he likes it. 

When he does look up, it’s as though he’s always expected to find her there.  It doesn’t take long at all for their gazes to meet, for his green eyes to burn under the yellow bar lights.  His lips part in silent surprise and Aelin feels her skin heat when he cocks his head to one side before finally, a small smile kicks up one corner of his mouth.

He leans in to the microphone—eyes never leaving hers.

“Fireheart,” he says. “I promised we’d find each other again.”

…

After

She’s lost again.

But not in the way she once was.

Because instead of being surrounded by her nightmares, she’s tangled up in strong arms that haven’t let her go in hours.  She’s lost in him like never before.

She doesn’t mind of course.  Because she’s lost in him this time.  Skin to skin, soul to soul.  And there’s no place she’d rather be.

Aelin sighs and burrows in closer to his side.  He smells of pine and snow just like always.  It’s better than her memories, being so close to him.  Better than anything she could have hoped for.  She never thought it would come to this. 

For so long she’d wandered through her life trying like hell to find her ways.  Too often it felt like she was drowning, scrambling for air, for salvation.

And then she’d met Rowan. 

She doesn’t blame him for leaving.  She told him as much when he tried to apologized.  Silenced him with her kisses, in fact. 

Somehow they made it back to his apartment—small and tucked above a Thai restaurant.  It didn’t take them long to rediscover each other.  For Rowan to find the new scars along her back, for Aelin to learn the paths of his new tattoos. It didn’t take long at all to fall together into bed and spend the night whispering promises into the neon lights that filtered through the bedroom drapes.

“Fireheart,” Rowan whispers, his soft voice enough to pull Aelin from her thoughts.

She looks up into his eyes, already smiling. “Buzzard.”

Rolling his eyes, Rowan runs a hand up her bare side, the calluses on his fingers catching her skin.  It’s enough to cause her to shiver which lights a new fire in Rowan’s gaze.

Whatever he was going to say is lost as he leans in and kisses her.  She reacts instantly, not that she can help it.  Everything about Rowan draws her in.  His mouth is insistent and teasing and his hands leave hot trails against her skin as he pulls her on top of him.

It’s only when they’re both gasping for air that they break apart.  Rowan brushes Aelin’s hair from her face, his large hand running across her cheek.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Their next kiss is slow and languid and sends sparks shooting through Aelin’s entire body.

They don’t speak again until morning when dawn breaks and scatters sunshine across the bed.  But when they wake it’s with the knowledge that never again are they going to come apart.  They’ll be together across every mile, side-by-side.

end.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

taglist is a joke will reblog soon

[priincebutt]

Nico!!! hello dear here's my request for the heart kiss thing

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy - liam/pez plz

send me a kiss, get a snippet

Liam loves the post-rodeo high. There’s something about the adrenaline rush of bull riding, feeling like you’re unstoppable and on top of the fucking world, that just leaves him spinning out after all of the events are over. He knows he should be exhausted – bull riding is a physical sport that leaves him sore and hurting for days after he competes, but it’s still the day of, and the pain hasn’t set in yet. So instead of sleeping, like he should be doing, he’s at the damn bar, fingers wrapped around a bottle of Coors light, listening with a wince on his face as some girl in a floral dress attempts to sing Carrie Underwood’s Before He Cheats on the mic provided for karaoke.

It’s not well known, but at the end of the day on Fridays at the Denver National Stock Show, down in the underbelly of the arena by the corralled cattle and sleeping horses, a karaoke bar pops up for those in the know, or those lucky enough to stumble upon it when they’re trying to find the parking lot. There’s probably thirty people in street clothes present, and a handful of riders like himself, and everyone seems tipsy enough. Hell, Liam’s on his third beer, and while he’s not drunk he’s definitely feeling the effects. The warmth coursing through him is lush, and he sips at the cool beer as his eyes scan the crowd, looking for anyone he knows or some one interesting enough to strike up a conversation with.

His boredom is relieved when a man in a fringed pink leather jacket sets an empty glass down on the bar beside Liam, orders a whiskey neat, and turns, letting his gaze rove from Liam’s worn, dusty boots up to the cowboy hat that sits atop his head at a minor tilt. He’s not subtle in his looking, and his full lips part in an easy smile as he leans against the bar, folds his arms over his chest and nods approvingly.

“See something you like?” Liam drawls, his Texas accent thick thanks to the beer. He’s never been subtle in who he loves, and while being a gay bull rider hasn’t been easy by any means, it’s worth fighting for who he is. He can’t imagine hiding himself away.

The man’s grin only widens, and he accepts the whiskey and stops the bartender. “What’s your shooter of choice?” He asks Liam. One of Liam’s eyebrows go up, and he steps in a little closer, intrigued.

“Tequila with salt and a lime.”

“You heard the man,” his companion chuckles darkly. “Two tequilas, though I might regret this in the morning.”

The bartender delivers the shots, and they clink their glasses together before licking the salt rim, downing the shot, then sucking on the lime. Liam manages to get the liquor down without wincing, and his new friend does the same, his features smooth as he then sips his whiskey like this is all in a day’s work. “I’m Percy,” he extends a hand, his fringe swishing at the motion, and Liam grins and accepts, shaking his warm hand fondly and nodding. “Liam,” he offers as he sips his beer to chase down the fire of the tequila.

“I knew you were gay,” Percy says as his head tilts and he looks up at Liam, who has a good few inches on him even in his shiny black heeled cowboy boots.

One of Liam’s brows arch, and he keeps his features schooled into neutrality at the statement. “What gave me away?”

“Well, you were the only cowboy wearing a pink shirt,” Percy says with a shrug. “And I just… knew. Sometimes you just know things, and it’s always a sweet victory when you’re right. Because you’re extremely hot, and I’m very glad I’ve run into you down at this little bar.”

Liam’s feeling bold thanks to the tequila. The shot is like liquid courage through his veins, and he crowds into Percy’s space, unthinking about the very real possibility that this virtual stranger might want nothing more to do with him than to say he met a bull rider and be on his way. “Well good thing for me you’re also hot,” Liam says as he finishes his beer and sets the empty bottle back on the bar. Percy’s looking up at him through his lashes now, in a way that has Liam absolutely losing it because it’s been a while since he’s gotten lucky and he thinks tonight just might be the night for it. “Do you want to come back to my hotel?” He asks, voice husky, emboldened by the look Percy’s giving him and the liquor.

There is no answer – Percy surges up on his toes and pulls him in by the collar. Their lips meet and Liam sighs into it, lets himself melt into this man he hardly knows, kisses him like there might not be a tomorrow. Percy is soft and pliant against him, and he tastes like smoky whiskey on a warm Texas night. He tastes like home, and Liam thinks he might go feral for it.

Liam pulls back, a lopsided grin on his lips, one hand at Percy’s waist and the other steadying them against the bar. “I take it that’s a yes?”

“Oh, that’s a fuck yes.”

[thegigilwriter]

17 | “Danger & Star, Rooster & Angel” — Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Mitchell OC

Summary. 26-year-old Lucy Asa Mitchell did not know what was in store for her when she first bumped into Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw. After an instant mutual connection followed by a sweet whirlwind romance that swept both their feet, Lucy found herself being immersed deeper into Bradley’s world of the Navy, F-14s, and deployments. What she didn’t expect was finding was the answer to an elusive part of her past — the identity of her long-lost father.

Chapter Summary. It’s some minutes to midnight before Lucy’s birthday and she’s walking down memory lane with someone we’re dying to get to know a little more. After midnight, Bradley is faced with a surprising revelation.

Masterlist

Keywords/Warnings: Angst, implications of loss of loved ones, fluff

17 | Birthday Wish 🎂

September 27, 2023

It was five minutes to midnight and Lucy was sitting on her purple couch. An album was sprawled across her lap and a paper bag sat beside her. She flipped another page. It was Halloween in Oregon and for trick-or-treat, Lucy and Ford were dressed up in their homemade peanut butter and jelly costumes. The night had just concluded, they were poised on the front porch of their house, and they were both holding up a shared bucket of candy —Lucy with missing teeth was smiling ear-to-ear, and Ford with a cute little frown. Lucy remembered that Halloween vividly, for it was one of their last trick-or-treats as children. She recalled Ford didnʼt want to go that day and the only reason why he did is because she made him. Lucy wanted to have all the candy she could get as a last hurrah. Ford disliked sweets with a passion, so he was more than happy to let her take his share. She chuckled, shaking her head as the turned another page.

This time, it was during an awarding ceremony for one of his chess meets. It was Nationals, and it was such a big deal at the time that Tala took some time off of work to accompany Ford and Lucy to New York. He took home the trophy that day, receiving it in a handsome navy suit and a ghost of a smile — Ford rarely ever does smile. They were 15 at the time, and Ford was truly starting to look like Pete ‘Maverickʼ Mitchell. She stared at the picture for a moment — it was truly uncanny. They both had eyes that looked like they were a hiding a secret with the same shoulders and the same lips and the same hair. Lucy has always suspected that Ford resembled their father... it was one of the excuses she made for her mother of why she always seemed to favor her brother every time.

Lucy turned the page once more, and some days after the meet it was their 16th birthday, and like every year... they shared the same cake, the same candles, and the sometimes even the same gifts. She remembered that particular birthday. It was the first time they tried their first taste of alcohol — Stella Marie red wine. Well... it was Fordʼs first time anyway. Tala could tell by how Lucy quickly downed her glass without so much as a scrunch of her nose. She scolded her publicly that day. Her uncles were not spared from her wrath— after all... they did let her have her first sip of Red Horse Beer.

Two minutes to midnight. She turned one last page and it turned into Fordʼs graduation headshot. He looked much older and his appearance was much more refined. His hazel eyes matured with intensity and seriousness. Lucy could still hear the squeals and hoots of the female onlookers when Ford took this photograph, in his white robes, with a blue collar, and red stripes.

A minute to midnight. Lucy set aside the album and opened the paper bag, retrieving a single candle and a vanilla cupcake with frosting. She lit the candle and buried one end in the cupcake. She set the cupcake on the living room table and sat on the floor with her hands folded on the surface with her chin laid upon them.

“Happy birthday Asa, happy birthday ‘Yani. Happy birthday, happy birthday...ˮ

Lucy smiled, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

“Happy birthday to you...ˮ

Lucy closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

“Whatʼs your wish, ‘Yani?ˮ

“I donʼt believe in superstition, and neither should you.ˮ

“Isnʼt there anything you want?ˮ

“I do, but Iʼm not gonna get it by wishing...ˮ

Lucy blew out the candle with another sigh, licked the frosting from its end, and the ate cupcake with a mug of hot tea. She laid among the cushions, still staring at Fordʼs photograph many minutes after midnight. Lucy can feel her eyelids wavering and herself slipping into slumber.

“I know you donʼt believe in wishes,ˮ she whispered to him. “But Iʼve tried everything else and Iʼm getting tired of praying...ˮ

“I wish youʼd come back.ˮ

17 minutes after midnight.

“I wish I said that Iʼm sorry.ˮ

19 minutes after midnight.

“I wish it was me instead.ˮ

21 minutes after midnight.

Bradley arrived some 40 minutes after midnight at Lucyʼs apartment. When he stepped into the vicinity, his heart softened at the sight of Lucyʼs sleeping figure on her purple couch. He fixed his boots in the designated cubby of her shoe rack and hung his flight-suit on the spare hanger in the cabinet. As he passed by her on his way to the kitchen, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead so as to not wake her up. He washed his hands at the sink and as he was drying them, he noticed the extinguished birthday candle on the dish rack. He smiled softly at the reminder, it was officially Lucyʼs 26th birthday. He walked over to her and kneeled by her sweet, slumbering form.

“Angel?ˮ He whispered. “Baby?ˮ

Lucy groaned slightly, turning on her side and inadvertently letting the album slide from her abdomen towards the floor. Bradley bent down to pick it up and intended to close it when the open page caught his eye. He quickly glanced at Lucy, and after convincing himself that she would not be waking up anytime soon, he allowed himself to prop the album open on his thigh in full view.

The photograph was of Lucy. She appeared to be on the high ledge of a building, smiling at the sun with her eyes closed. Her hair was down in all its curls and coils. She had on a pair of earphones with the Ipod tucked into the pocket of her black leather jacket. She was also wearing black Doc Martens, denim jeans, and a Coldplay band shirt. Bradleyʼs eyes flitted to the date inscribed below— November 2012. Bradley chuckled, he didnʼt quite expect how different her style was when she was 13.

He turned another page — and it was Lucy in a blue one-piece and a swim cap on a podium, standing proudly on the highest shelf as she held up a gold medal, and another picture of her mid-backstroke. Bradley turned another page and it was Lucy again in a beautiful, iridescent gown with pearls in her hair on a stage, performing what was presumably an opera piece. Another page — and it was Lucy in the same attire with a wide smile post-performance and right next to her was a dapper young gentleman with a serious stare. There was something about his eyes that struck a familiar chord in Bradley so he turned another page, intrigued.

September 2013

Twinsʼ 14th

Lucy and Ford

There was Lucy and Ford. Lucy was on Fordʼs back with her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs curled against his sides. Judging by Fordʼs expression, she had taken him by surprise when she piggybacked him. Lucy was laughing, her party hat tipped to one side.

Bradley read the inscription once more.

Twinsʼ 14th

Twins.

Bradley heard a faint rustle from behind him and instantly shut the album and placed it on the table in front of him.

“Bradley?ˮ Lucy yawned. “What time is it? Are you hungry?ˮ

“Hey Angel,ˮ he said to her softly. “Happy birthday...ˮ

“Thank you,ˮ she smiled sleepily. “Are you hungry?ˮ

“Iʼd rather just sleep with you right now if thatʼs alright. You and I got a long trip ahead of us tomorrow... ˮ Bradley grinned and Lucy nodded, head hitting the cushion again as he chuckled. Lifting Lucy from the couch, he let her head cradle against his chest and secured his grasp on the skin behind her knees. He walked to her room, set her down on her bed, and drew the covers to her chin. Bradley gazed upon Lucyʼs sleeping face and held a breath when he saw the dried tears that stained her cheeks. The walk down memory lane. The candle in the dish rack. It dawned on Bradley that it wasnʼt only Lucyʼs birthday... It was also Fordʼs, and for some reason, he couldnʼt celebrate it.

Bradley spent his time in the shower in deep contemplation. As the warm water continued to soak his curls and wash his skin, many pieces of thoughts came together in his mind. He couldnʼt quite shake the mystery in Lucyʼs life that was Ford — who also happened to look too eerily familiar to Bradley for a stranger...

Fraternal twins.

Born 1997.

Angel.

Lucy Mitchell.

Ford Mitchell. ...

Pete... Mitchell.

Mitchell.

Mitchell is a common American surname. Bradley knows two other people with that surname aside from Lucy, Ford, and Mav... so it could just all be a weird coincidence... right?

Right?

Bradley hastily dried his locks and toweled off the excess water from his body. After changing into one of the shirts and boxers he left in Lucyʼs drawers, he quickly retrieved his phone and his wallet, and sat beside where Lucy laid in bed.

Search For: Ford Mitchell

Results

23-year-old Detective New ‘Sherlock Holmesʼ of NYPD

Mitchell Busts ‘Uncatchableʼ Sleuth Slayer

Genius Cop Brings Corrupt Gov. to Justice

After scrolling down the results briefly, Bradley opened the Images tab. Many were of Ford in official NYPD attire, receiving an honorary medal, but as he scrolled down further, graduation pictures followed — all linked to the MIT Astrophysics and Space Research Department. Bradley opened one image in full view, it was of Ford posing formally in an NYPD uniform with a navy shirt and tie, the number 99 on the corner of each collar, a fitted jacket with the NYPD insignia on one arm and his badge and service ribbons donned proudly on his left chest. Bradley took out his wallet and opened the tight little pocket, and right behind his old library card was a weathered picture of Goose, Carol, himself... and Maverick.

“An...old friend,ˮ Pete said. “I met her back at Atsugi back in ‘96.ˮ

“Iʼm sorry,ˮ Pete laughed lightly, looking back at Lucy. “Itʼs just so uncanny. You look exactly like her...ˮ

“I spent six months in Atsugi,ˮ Pete sighed. “And for four of them, I did date Tala... As soon as I wrapped up my deployment I went back to the Philippines with her for some months.ˮ

The thoughts couldnʼt stop coming to him even if he tried to slow it all down to look at each one clearly — without the lens of emotion.

The way Lucy looked at Mav when he first introduced them at the Hard Deck. It was as if she knew him.

How nervous and inconsolable she was on the night Penny invited them over for dinner. He remembered how much Lucy fussed over the correct ratio and flavor of the spring roll filling prior.

“Theyʼre just as I remember them to be...ˮ Those were Mavʼs very words.

Could it be?

Lucy is... and Mav are...

Bradley gasped slightly. He gazed upon Lucy. Did she know? An unsettling heaviness burrowed in Bradleyʼs chest and he felt his head becoming warmer by the second. He felt a strong urge to wake her... to let her explain herself. He was his own person, capable and deserving of the truth. Did she not trust him enough to handle it? He didnʼt need his mother to delay the news of the death of his own father until he was six-years-old. He didnʼt need Maverick to make it harder for him to become a pilot so that he wouldnʼt end up like his dad. He certainly didnʼt need his girlfriend hiding something of this magnitude from him. Bradley was so just sick and tired of the people around him pushing him away, thinking that theyʼre protecting him. Just as he was about to wake her, a tear slipped down her cheek. He shakily held a breath.

“Ford?ˮ She murmured in the saddest voice that he has ever heard. “Donʼt go... Iʼm sorry...ˮ

Bradley withdrew his hand instantly.

Did it really matter though? That the father she never talked about just happened to be his godfather, or so Bradley suspects?

Would he love her any less... if he knew what really happened to Ford and why Lucy seemed so guilty about it?

Was it worth it? To expose her now and reopen the wounds that she had appeared to have tried so hard for so long to heal? On her birthday? A day that severely reminded her of the loss of someone who meant so much to her?

There was still so much Bradley didnʼt know about Lucy. This is true. But what he does know, is the girl he fell in love with. The girl who loves the sea and swims with whales, who sings opera to make her mother proud, who snorts uncontrollably when she laughs, who canʼt dance to save her life or eat anything even mildly spicy, who lives for food, who meets their best friend by threatening to burn a robber alive, who beats Hangman at darts, and who fits perfectly on his lap. The only girl heʼll ever allow to drive his 1970 Ford Bronco and whose cooking that he now canʼt live without. The girl he told Nat he knows heʼs going to marry on the fourth date — the night for their first kiss.

“If thereʼs anything I can tell you, itʼs that Lucy comes from a family where... pushing down their feelings and hiding their problems is way to be strong. Itʼll be hard — getting Lucia out of her shell.ˮ

Bradley sighed deeply. He looked at the conch shell that Francesca gifted Lucy on her dresser. It was beautiful, but perhaps it would have been truly difficult to pry outside the creature that once inhabited it. He placed his phone and wallet on her dresser and embraced her snugly in his strong arms. He inhaled the scent of her hair and placed soft kisses from behind her ear towards her collarbone.

“In time, Iʼll tell you everything — everything, I promise. But for now, I hope that youʼll have me for what I am in your eyes.ˮ

Those were the words she had uttered on the night he asked her to be his girlfriend. What kind of person would Bradley be, if he ignored this promise over his pride? A human, of course... like everybody else. For now he would wait, bide his time for the moment, and hope that the inevitability of conflict will stay at bay for a little while longer.

Our first preview of the elusive Ford Mitchell. I’m wondering at this point of the story of what you, dear readers, might speculate about his whereabouts and his character. 🤔 Bradley’s slowly putting the pieces together, but is Lucy ever going to let him? 🐚 Let’s put the drama and angst aside for now, unto to 18 | Monterey Bay!

P.S. I don’t think it’s canon that Carole really delayed the news of Goose’s death to little Bradley — it’s more of a hc of mine.

Taglist: @itsarabellebabes

[sednonamoris]

raise a little hell

Pairing: John Marston x reader

Summary: You, John, and Arthur go out on the town after a successful score. Of course you couldn’t leave it at just one drink.

Warnings: Alcohol mention, canon-typical alcohol use/abuse, shenanigans

Word count: 1,240

A/N: Short and sweet to brace you for the upcoming angst 😘

Series masterlist • AO3

—

The saloon is crowded when you and the boys arrive. Laughter and conversation spill onto the street where you stand hitching your horses. Someone inside plays a jaunty piano tune. Through the window glow you watch patrons dance, eat, drink, sing. The people leaning porchside with lit cigars in their mouths tip a hat and half a smile your way.

Evening closes in on this little town nestled into the wilderness of the West.

The vast darkness that surrounds you is held at bay by the lanterns within, a gentle embrace of artificial light. It welcomes you with open arms, and you’re quick to fall into it with easy grins and pockets full of cash just begging to be spent. The three of you are still riding the high of a successful stagecoach robbery, and though you’re meant to be lying low on your return to camp you all agreed some celebration was in order. With John and Arthur involved, that can mean only one thing; drinks.

“Bartender!” Arthur calls the moment he passes the threshold with a wolfish grin. “Let’s see that top shelf.”

The barkeep rolls his eyes at your rowdy youth, but when Arthur slaps a fistfull of bills on the counter he’s quick to jump on those drinks. Three shot glasses slide down to your spot at the end of the bar, black label and deep amber. You turn to the boys with a grin of your own, clinking the glasses together before tapping them on the bartop and swallowing the shots down.

It burns smooth and strong the way only good whiskey can, lights a fire in your belly and an ember in your eye.

“Cheers to a job well done, boys,” you say.

“Cheers to money, and lots of it,” John adds.

“Cheers to things going according to plan, for once,” Arthur laughs and throws an arm around you both. “You kids made me proud today.”

John wrinkles his nose and shoves him off. “Shut up. You’re barely older than us.”

“Still counts, Johnny Boy.”

You laugh at the looks on their faces and order another round.

—

The drinks go down easy, then easier, ‘til whiskey might as well be water. You can’t quite remember how many you’ve had, but the world has gone a little fuzzy and a lot brighter. Your face hurts from smiling.

John is across the room playing poker - badly. There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks from the drink that softens the sharpness of his features. The locals love him, laugh at all his terrible jokes and smile along with his stories. You suspect it’s largely due to how much money they’re winning off him; Every time he has a good hand he turns around to flash a goofy grin your way. You can’t help but return it even as you laugh at him. Arthur is just as amused beside you.

“You know,” he says, “that boy really does like you.”

“I sure hope so. We’re friends. Best friends, maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.” There’s a knowing glint in Arthur’s eyes even the haze of alcohol can’t dull. It makes you squirm in place. “You’re lucky, is all I mean. Took a lot longer for me an’ him to get on. Hell, sometimes we still don’t.”

You snort a laugh into your beer bottle. “That’s ‘cause you’re an ornery bastard, Arthur Morgan.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you?”

“Delightful.”

The comment earns you a laugh, surprised but genuine.

“Okay, sure, the sun just shines out your ass, don’t it.”

You clink your bottle to his with a smirk. “I’ll drink to that.”

—

You’re leaned against a back wall in a drunken smog trying and failing to convince one of the working girls to come upstairs with you when you hear the unmistakable sound of glass shattering and Arthur yelling.

Goddamn it.

“S’cuse me jus’ one moment,” you slur. She rolls her painted eyes and scoffs her painted mouth, but you’ve already turned toward the commotion.

It takes all of two seconds for you to register that Arthur has a man by the hair and John is cornered by two others - either his friends or sympathetic bystanders. It’s all you need to stride across the room, roll your sleeves to your elbows, and start swinging.

The fight comes to you in fragments. Someone’s thick forearm around your neck, your teeth sinking in and the taste of blood in your mouth. Dark spots dancing across your vision from a broken nose, the feeling of another man’s cartilage crunching under your fist. Uncontrollable, insane laughter bubbling out of your bloodied mouth between dodged punches. The return of that laughter from your opponents before they slap a firm hand on your shoulder and declare that you’re alright.

“Not so bad for a bunch’a no-good hooligans! You kids sure can pack a punch.”

You think Arthur buys the entire saloon a round of drinks.

It’s hard to remember because he definitely orders plenty for you.

—

The piano player lands on his ass with a thunk and a drunken giggle. Arthur promptly takes his place on the bench and begins playing what you think, distantly, is meant to be the tune of ‘Buffalo Gals’.

He doesn’t hit a single note - doesn’t really do more than ham-fistedly bang along the keys - but you and John sing along at the top of your lungs anyhow. It’s awful and off-key and you slur the verses together in a drunken rasp.

Perfect, is what it feels like. Perfect.

John’s wiry body radiates just enough heat, his arm slung loose around your shoulders like it belongs there. You make the mistake of looking over at him and swear your heart stops. His smile is wide and dopey when he notices you, flushed with good humor and several rounds of drinks too many, and you know the one you reflect back on him is that much wider and dopier.

What a pair you are. Over-served idiots.

He really is your best friend, though. Your heart aches with the fullness of it. With the knowledge it will never be anything more. Maybe the love you have for him wouldn’t be the same without the hurt, locked somewhere deep in your chest, but you don’t think you’ll ever know.

So you smile that much wider and sing even louder and tell yourself that this is good. It’s enough. To have him singing by your side is enough.

—

They kick you out at some point. At least, you remember landing face-first in the street, howling something fierce from the busted nose you’d earned earlier. Arthur laughs, the bastard.

Things after that are… fuzzy.

Someone yells at you for being too loud. One of you flashes a rude gesture while another one takes a piss in the street, laughing. All of you stumbling half-blind and boneless away from something that chases you.

Then nothing.

—

Midafternoon sun streams through your eyelids, forcing you awake. The blinding brightness on top of a pounding headache leaves you hissing out a wince. Your nose aches, too, and your stomach is in pieces.

The past twenty-four hours hide behind the catalogue of misery you’re experiencing, but other things slowly start to fall into place. First, that you’re snuggled between Arthur and John. Second, that you’re caked in mud. And third, with dawning horror, that you’re lying in the middle of someone’s sheep pen.

Last time you’ll ever go drinking with these idiots.

[jwnchstr]

waiting for superman | m.s47

title: waiting for superman part 3

characters: you/reader/catherine, mick schumacher

summary: when your father (a former ferrari mechanic) was diagnosed with alzheimer's, your world turns upside down. you had to give up your city life, get back to your village to take care of your father.  but what hurts the most is being so close to him and seeing him not remember you (catherine) as well as every precious moment in his life with you. you start to questions about everything until mick schumacher (your childhood best friend) comes back into your life and teaches you life lessons that you're sure will remember forever.

other f1 fics | masterlist | my wattpad

waiting for superman part 1 | 2 | 4 | 5

*

iii.

sebastian vettel would do anything just to bring the memories back into karl's mind. from the moment he met karl through michael, to when they start to hang out, to when they have a casual midnight stroll even though he was too young follow the adults. he doesn't care if it takes weeks or months or years. he won't give up. he is willing to redo everything he did with karl if that's what it takes to give karl his memories back. and if he's given a chance for a wish to be granted, he would wish to heal karl's disease.

    he might look unaffected with karl's disease because he thought he needs to be strong for you, but truth to be told, he is crying and heartbroken inside. he hates watching the zero reaction coming from karl. that distant look when he doesn't know what sebastian is talking about. that stutter when sebastian asks if he remembers (and he has to ask if karl remembered).

    once both of them reached the karting club where you and mick used to be a part of, sebastian had stories in his mind. he had mentally prepared and organised those precious stories he will tell. will it be about how michael scolded a kid because he pushed mick to the wall and got disqualified? will it be about how you often beat mick and he comes home sulking (especially when gina did nothing to comfort him because she supported you more)? will it about between the dads---about how your father being the typical dad with michael, standing too close beside the circuit, watching the kids racing with a bottle of beer in their hands. people would think that michael and karl would obey the rules as audiences since both of them were a part of the f1 team, but sometimes, they're just someone's dads.

    "i don't think they were allowed to have an alcohol at an event full with kids but you and michael never mind the rules. it's like both of you were a couple of high school seniors that even the principals cannot touch." sebastian chuckles. "and sometimes, michael would be the honour to hand the trophies to the winners. he would pass his beer to you before taking it back soon after the ceremony ends."

    your father doesn't understand why sebastian is laughing. he could not imagine what sebastian is telling him about. the story... the story about him and this michael guy who was his best friend seems close to his heart but too far to reach at the same time. he doesn't remember meeting this michael guy. he doesn't remember having a friend named michael. he doesn't remember working with michael.

    "oh and did i tell you that your daughter was in a karting club?"

    i have a daughter? karl thought.

    karl slowly shakes his head. he looks disappointed at himself for not knowing this new character in sebastian's story. but he caught sebastian saying the word 'daughter' as if he was reminding him that he's married and has a kid. but when did he marry andrea? and where is andrea now? if they have a daughter together, andrea must know and she would want to hear this story too, right? karl doesn't want to believe sebastian but the daughter's name sounds familiar to his ears. it's the kind of name he would want to name his daughter one day.

    "yeah. she was a member of a karting club. but it was mick who introduced it to her."

    "how was she?"

    "she was amazing! she picked up fast. it only took a few months for her race against mick even though they're in the same team." the image of little you and mick racing side by side in the kart circuit flashes behind sebastian's mind as if it only happened yesterday. "she beat mick few times. and when she does, mick would sulk and ask your daughter to play other games with him. games that he'd good at though we all know that catherine is just as good as at other games."

    "she sounds like a tough girl." karl smiles at the thought of his future daughter.

    "back then, you and michael used play bets on catherine and mick." sebastian laughs again. when he first found that out, sebastian yelled at the dads. he remembers preaching in front of michael and karl, telling them how it's not nice to play bets on their children. "but you guys claimed that you will keep the bet money in the kid's college fund. it sounded like a good idea. like another way to save up but i personally would never do that to my kids."

    if it weren't because of your father, sebastian didn't know that he still remembers these at all.

    "so what happened then? did she stop?"

    it takes a few seconds for sebastian to realise that your father is talking about you.

    "she said that racing isn't for her. she pursued engineering instead." sebastian smiles, proud of you as if you're his own child. "but she was good at what she was doing. you must be proud of her."

    "only if i remember," karl says under his breath, didn't miss the grammar sebastian used.

    was. karl wonders what happens to his so-called daughter. why was it a 'was' instead of 'is'? did something happen that made her change career? did she left her family? did she die?

    the sadness in karl's voice makes sebastian wants to tear up. he thinks karl doesn't deserve this illness. if this disease is due to him not using his brain that much, sebastian would accuse the doctor being a liar. because as far as he knows, karl was one of the people who used his brain a lot when he was healthy. his brain worked like a computer, like it's programmed to store things with personalised tricks and cheat codes. he always knew how to fix a car. he was always precise with his work, never left things almost done. he rarely made mistakes in the garage. so why, god, why and what did he do to get this ugly punishment?

    and then there is you that crosses sebastian's mind and he cannot help feeling sorry for you too. even though he hadn't known you since you were born like mick but it definitely feels as if. he knows how close you are with your father. after all, there weren't anyone in your life except you two (though occassionally with your nanny). no mother. no other siblings. no aunts and uncles. one world and there's you and your father making memories together as you grow up.

    but now, not only you lost your hero but also your dreams. you had to give up your dreams right when you were the happiest in the world for living in your dreams because being an engineer was what you wanted ever since you were a little girl. you had to give up that thousands of grands job. you had to give up the tall windows, high ceiling, gray-painted walls apartment. you had to give up the lifestyle that you began to love while living in the heart of switzerland. you have to give up everything.

    "karl." sebastian smiles. one that doesn't reach his eyes. "i know you won't remember me or catherine or michael. and you don't remember anything we did together, but i want you to know that you and catherine are always in my prayers."

    karl's heart warms. he doesn't know what he did to be given such a kind-hearted man in front of him. he doesn't even remember catherine or me or michael.

    he feels like saying something, but he doesn't know if that's the right option to do now because he might ruin the moment. instead, he keeps quiet, stares at the younger man.

    "and it's okay if you don't remember."

    karl's heart feels like to explode. again. what did he do to be granted with such human being?

    "it's tough on us," sebastian continues. "tougher on catherine, i imagine, but she loves you still."

    if karl could do anything right now, he would want to meet this catherine girl and tell her that everything will be fine. that he is fine and that he loves her too.

*

marc and franco. they were the employees who worked with karl back when he works at the workshop after retiring ferrari's mechanic. and today, when sebastian brings karl to the same workshop, marc and franco are still there and looking as if they never aged even one year. if it weren't because of the white hairs, people would think they're still in their 30s.

    "sebastian?" franco's eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

    sebastian's smile gets wider than when he first hopped out of his car after pulling his car to a stop in front of the workshop. he enters the workshop deeper, approaching franco for a hug that they hadn't shared for a few years.

    "hey, franco."

    "oh my god! you're getting... bald!"

    it's not sebastian's first time to have someone judging his appearance though. mick had made a remark on his bald spot too. his wife hannah never let him forget about how he looks way older than his age and looking different every time he gets home in between races. he knows he could grow hairs once he's taking hiatus on f1 after the end of the season.

    "marc! marc! come here! see who's here!" franco had called his business partner. and as if there was an emergency, marc emerges from the deep of the workshop looking worried.

    "what? what is it? did something---" he stops himself as soon as he sees a familiar figure standing close in front franco. "sebastian? oh come on here, you little piece---!"

    and they share a hug but unlike with franco (where the hug was tight, warm, friendly but short), marc makes sure that sebastian could feel every limb on his body including what's down there. uncomfortable, sebastian pushes marc to break the hug while trying to hide a cringe on his face.

    "oh i almost forgot," sebastian says before turning around in search of karl. "karl, do you remember who they are?"

    just like what sebastian expected, karl shakes his head. maybe he should shop asking karl if he remembers.

    "this is marc and franco." sebastian smiles at the older man. "they were your bosses when you were working here after retiring ferrari's car mechanic. they were two of your good friends too."

    marc and franco glance at each other. they just met a few days ago. marc and franco and karl at karl's house. they were talking and laughing, though as strangers, but it seemed that karl had a really good time with them. it's crazy how karl doesn't recognise them though it's only after a couple of days passed.

    it was as if it's karl's first time seeing marc and franco because there was no trace of recognition in karl's eyes when they look at each other. marc and franco wanted to go for a hug but when karl nods his head, gave them a polite smile, they know they totally lost their good friend.

    "don't take it too personally with karl," sebastian tells the two ruggged-looking man in front of him.

    "never, sebastian. but it's sad to see him that way. it's only two days ago since we last saw him," franco says.

    "how's his little girl?" marc asks as he and franco lead their two guests into their waiting room.

    sebastian smiles tightly. "probably still the same since you last saw her."

    "she told us that mick is home. are you staying here with your family?"

    "i wish," sebastian answers.

    and the three of them begin talking like there's no tomorrow. and with a company of the good, chilly weather and hot coffee, the environment seems perfect for the three dads to play catch up after so long not seeing each other.

    as sebastian, marc and franco continue talking in the other end of the garage, feeling not needed there, karl takes his time looking over the tools on the silver trolley. they recognise one or two of them. okay, maybe only one. a screwdriver. what else they have here? a T-thing with two different heads? hammer. a retractable object with marks and numbers on the metal? measuring tape. other complicated tools your father doesn't recognise. air compressor, dismantled gear, tyres spanner, sport rims. there is a car on a blue platform without tyres and karl doesn't understand why.

    there are so many things in the garage. things that make karl thinks maybe he knew too well these before but no matter how hard he cracks his brain, he doesn't know and understand almost 90% what's going on in the automotive workshop. everything looks so foreign to him now. he looks like a guy entering a make-up store. but one thing he knows that the longer he is here, the harder the pound in his head.

    sensing the uneasiness on karl's face, sebastian politely tells marc and franco that they have to leave. marc and franco promise that they'd see sebastian again next time he visits. and soon when they arrive back at the schumacher's, sebastian leads karl into the house. karl says he needs to use the loo.

    feeling a little light from the good day he'd spent with marc and franco, sebastian forgets that karl needs every help a healthy person has to offer to a sick person. sebastian barely remembers that karl has dementia, so without thinking anything, he merely nods his head and tells karl that he's going to be in the kitchen when he's done using the loo.

    but karl doesn't know what he isn't capable to do so he instinctively, he nods his head when the blonde man told him that he'll be in the kitchen. why is he in the kitchen? karl wonders to himself. he's going to the loo and the blondie will be in the kitchen? okay, then karl thinks it sounds like what other people do so when he started to his journey towards the loo because he really needs to use the toilet. only after a few minutes looking around, he couldn't find a way to the loo.

    where is the fucking toilet? karl asks himself as he ventures the whole first floor of the house. he walks pass the kitchen door---he sees a blondie making a something at the counter against the wall. he walks pass the living room but when he sees no one there, he continues walking ahead. he walks pass a hallway---he sees several pictures in big frames hanging on the wall. he stops in front of a door and tries to open it---it wouldn't budge. he returns to the living room, sees nobody else, sees the front door but ignores it, walks pass the kitchen. if there were people who didn't know karl's disease, they would think this man is utterly stupid for not seeing a small door a few steps after the kitchen because that's where the toilet is.

    and he does this for several times. until he forgets what he was initially looking for. feeling uncomfortable pacing back and forth between the walls without remembering why he was here, karl walks to the front door. he opens the front door, leaves it open, and steps outside. without looking back, he walks straight ahead, turns right and continues straight. and that's the last time the house sees karl until you get back.

*

sebastian was emotionally tired when he finds the abstract wallpaper on the schumacher's kitchen wall interesting. corinna has had it for years. he doesn't remember exactly when but it's been there forever. sebastian has been meaning to ask corinna what's so special about the wallpaper but now, as he looks at the wallpaper while his emotion feels like a tornado, he begins to understand why corinna hadn't removed it or changed it.

    the canvas is starting to get yellowish despite being an expensive art piece, but the colours (though bright) they give sebastian's mind a peace that he didn't know he needed today. it's true that sebastian is genuinely happy with himself today. it feels like an accomplishment to bring karl out for a drive but there's something in the drive and the memories makes sebastian exhausted.

    the smell of hot coffee gives another peace of his mind as the hot mug radiates a comforting warmth towards sebastian fingers and hands. after taking a single sip, sebastian sighs. the taste of the coffee brings him back to earth. his eyes caught a small digital clock corinna put on the kitchen island. something snaps in his mind.

    "karl." his breath hitches. "oh my god, karl."

    sebastian reluctantly puts his coffee mug down (because the coffee is still hot and is still only a quarter empty. he quickly checks the toilet for karl and how worried and scared and angry he is when he didn't find the man he was looking for there. his heart makes a jump in his chest when he couldn't find karl at the living room, other rooms on the first floor, at the kitchen even though seabastian was at the kitchen the whole time. it was on his second round when sebastian realises that the front door is ajar.

    "oh no."

    sebastian could hear his heart beating loudy in his ears as he fishes his phone in his pocket. but luck (if you could call this luck) that just before he taps on your name in his contact list, he hears your car entering the driveway. he deeply, deeply sighs. the tremble of his hands lessen by two percent. when he hears two car doors shut, he realises that despite being an f1 driver who had been taught to work under pressure, but in real life when he has to deal with something else, he is the opposite of the person who was taught to work under pressure. good thing you came back on time.

    "always keep him in your peripheral," sebastian hears the echo of your voice, reminding him before he took your father for a drive. "always show him. even though he doesn't remember, always talk to him."

    yes. he should've remembered those 30 minutes ago when your father told him that he wanted to use the loo!

    sebastian heads for the front door. he walks straight out of the house (the front door is open wide, after all). he sees the scowl on your face. that crease on your forehead is so deep. you're running away from someone while shouting something back at him. when sebastian sees mick appears from behind your car, he realises that you and mick are having an argument.

    shit.

    sebastian stands still at the porch, tries to understand what were the arguments about. your voices sounded muffled in his ears but even so he could catch some phrases like "her" and "love you" and "justine" and "we". the loud thump of his heart in his ears overshadowed the rest of the sound in the world around him, but as tries to get himself back onto the earth, he realises that you and mick are actually confessing.

    for having to spend a lot of time with mick on and off the paddock, sebastian knows something about mick that you don't know. for instance, sebastian recognises the love in mick's eyes whenever he's talking about you even though you haven't seen each other for years. he admires your hardwork while chasing after your dreams. he mentions your names here and there when he's talking to other people outside of interviews. he is proud of you so much that he didn't realise he had created speculations.

    but sebastian wonders and he had once asked mick why he didn't try to see you back at home when you're only less than an hour away. after all, you were still in contact with gina.

    "i don't know. i feel like she's avoiding me."

    maybe mick was right. maybe you were avoiding mick because you were trying to get over mick. you had a career. you had your own apartment. you had your own car. you had your freedom. you thought it's time to get over mick and try to date other men. though at the end, you miserably failed. your dad got sick. you returned home and still in love with mick.

    even though it sounds ridiculous to be having an argument about love at the moment, but maybe this is the time for mick to finally confess his feelings towards you too even though your father had went missing. because sebastian has seen it for a long time in mick's eyes. maybe even from the start of him knowing mick. maybe mick hasn't realised it. maybe mick needs his time to understand what he's feeling. when sebastian finally hears those powerful words, he is happy for mick. but your father karl erberhardt is still missing!

    justine and gina aren't home yet and you might feel relieved or glad because you don't have to see her pretty face on the territory but that doesn't matter now, does it, because you're having an argument with mick to notice justine's car isn't anywhere to be seen. hearing the fuss, corinna exits michael's room and meets sebastian at the porch. her forehead creased with confusion.

    "what's happening?" corinna asks.

    "i lost karl."

    corinna is too shocked to to say anything but she does worry about her husband's bestfriend.

    "and now his daughter and mick are arguing about their love and their feelings."

    "are you being serious right now? how could you be standing here? break them!" corinna pushes.

    it's not that sebastian doesn't want to break the argument but he knows what's bubbling inside mick's mind and how he's been keeping things from you. so here, right now, even though corinna is glaring at him for stalling, he was only giving mick the space to express himself out. he waited for a few more minutes. when he thought the argument was over, he sees you pushing mick again. now he gives you another chance to talk to mick and as soon as he realises that the argument has died down, that both of you are calmed, sebastian lurches forward.

*

"catherine. it's about karl."

    your father's name is like an alarm to your brain, like once you hear "karl" or "your father", your focus and attention, even though you were sleeping one second ago, you will be awake one second after. sebastian looks pale when he tells you what's happened. he worries about a lot of things but even so, he tells you everything.

    "i'm sorry, catherine. i understand if you can't trust me again after today but i swear i didn't mean to lose him."

    "no, seb. it's okay."

    no, truthfully, it's not okay even though this is not the first time you or annie or anyone lost your father. not when you've warned them to always keep an eye on karl. because someone who has alzheimer's may look like he understands what you were telling them, but they're actually not so you always have to be careful with them. there's always something like this happen every time karl meets his friends or someone brings karl to see their other friends. they were so caught up in the moment that they tend to forget karl is forgetful.

    with creased on your forehead, you fish for your phone inside your jeans pocket.

    "catherine---"

    you look up at the aston martin f1's driver. sebastian's heart skips a bit when your eyes meet him.

    "i know i won't be able to sleep tonight if i don't say this so just listen to me, okay?"

    sebastian prepared himself with the curses that you're going to throw at him, or meanful things you'd shout at sebastian to let the neighbours know how the fourth-time world champion is useless at taking care of an ill person. knowing you, you might even do more than these but it surprised him when nothing of what he expected came. instead, he sees calmness in your tired eyes. your lips looks like they're ready to give him a smile to make him calm down.

    mick, standing close with you and sebastian, now realises that this is the first time he sees sebastian looking so messed up. but it amazes him more with how collected you look while dealing with the situation. mick thinks that, if this happened to him, he wouldn't be able to even talk to sebastian right now.

    "i'm sorry."

    "sebastian, it's okay. i'm not mad at you." you give sebastian an assuring smile and squeezes his shoulder comfortly. "now i'm going to make a few calls. i'm going to tell annie and the police. and then we're going to look for him."

    both sebastian and mick watch you making some phone calls silently while waiting for you to finish. neither of the men speaks any word as if the they're the one who had that argument a few minutes ago. but to think again, maybe they're just as anxious as you are so no matter how hard they tried to move their tongues to talk, they just can't.

    after both annie and the police are notified, you return to sebastian and mick.

    "alright. we should split up," you say still calm. "maybe sebastian can go back to the workshop and see if my father's there. mick can cover the park. i'll try look for him at the church."

    both you and your father rarely go to the church but there's a cemetery behind the church compound and there, your father's mother was burried. you never knew her but there were several times where you'd follow your father visiting her grave when you were little. no visit as you grew older but after getting alzheimer's, you found him at the grave on several occassions. people in the neighbourhood too. and they'd be the one who would bring your father home if not to the police station.

    "no way we're splitting."

    "no. it's too risky," sebastian agrees. "it's getting dark. we should look for him together."

    sebastian was right. and it's better to be safe than sorry so you agree with sebastian's suggestion. all three of you hop into your car with you driving since you know your father's favourite spots better than the other two. sebastian at the pessenger's seat and mick at the back by himself.

    you didn't know where to start. should you start with the farthest? sure, but marc or franco would probably call you or sebastian if they found your father at the workshop. should you start a little closer like the church? he might know how to go to the church from your home but not from mick's house. your father didn't even recognise the street, the trees and the mick's house itself. should you just get home then? because what if your father somehow knew his way home from mick's?

    no, no, no. that would be impossible even though it could happen. his father doesn't even know the way home from the police station or from the park or from the church or the cemetery.

    the car is silent as you drive slowly around the neighbourhood, keeping an eye on every man that you see even though he doesn't look like karl erberhardt from behind. mick at the back is trying his best to do the same thing as you with his blue eyes but once in a while, you would catch him looking at you through the rear-view mirror as if checking up on you. you're not sure why you roll his eyes at him though. maybe you're just tired. meanwhile beside you, keeping the windows down, sebastian's lips are moving. he's praying.

    "come on, dad," you whisper under your breath, but you know that with the silence in the car, both of the men hear you. "where are you?"

    you thought of turning around and driving back towards the karting club but it's too late now, does it? the sky is already dark. the temperature has dropped. there's no way you could see in the dark with only your mobile phone's torchlight. all hope of finding your father nearby fades. but just as when you're thinking of returning home and wait for him there, your phone rings. you quickly reaches for your phone in the cup holder and sees the familiar telephone number on the screen. it's the local police station.

    "catherine?" the same woman who picked up your call just now calls you. "we found your father."

    the heavy sigh that escape your lips caught mick and sebastian's attention. two sets of eyes are on you. two sets of ears are focused on you. they're waiting for the answer. you put your phone on loud speaker.

    "where?"

    "the station."

    "the station?" you wonder. "you found my father at the police station?"

    "he came here by himself."

    pressing the acceleration paddle harder, you drive towards the police station above the speed limit but what do you care. you need to see your father before your body explodes. by the time you reach there, a policeman already opens the door for you and when you enter the police station, you see your father is sitting on one of the many chairs in front of the report counter. there are another two policemen in the room---one behind the counter and the other sitting beside your father.

*

"dad!"

    when karl turns around upon hearing a woman calling someone 'dad', it was merely a reflex. one where you spontenously turn around when you hear someone else calling for other people especially when her voice is too loud in the police station. but apparently, the woman is approaching him. her eyes are glassy as she opens her arms for him. and again. it's by reflex when he returns the woman's hug.

    "oh dad!" the woman says. "i thought i really lost you."

    karl frowns above the woman's head. his eyes catch a few other people in the station. all men and all are looking at him and the woman he's hugging. all look sadly relieved but aside from the three policemen, who are the other two men standing near the door? is the younger man the woman's boyfriend and the older blond man his dad?

    "uhm. girl? i'm so sorry to ruin the moment but i'm afraid i'm not your father."

    in the embrace, he feels the woman stiffens. slowly, when the woman breaks the hug and looks up at him, he sees the same dark hair and dark eyes as his. he sees the same smile andrea has. something in him tugs. he is still not sure if he's married to andrea and they had a daughter this big but it looks like the woman already knows him. or even if he knows her, it's because she lives together with him in his ma's house. and if he's not mistaken, she is the woman he lives with along with another older woman who helps him take his bath.

    "oh, dad! thank god you're okay!"

    "i'm---i'm sorry to interrupt you, girl. but---but you're not my mother...?"

    the girl gulps. "no, dad. i'm your daughter. christine."

    "daughter?" karl frowns. "i have a daughter? i'm married?"

    "you were. but mum left us when i was a few months old so it's only us."

    "andrea would do that?"

    the woman's face twitch in disgust. did andrea do something to her? or did she do something to andrea? he rufused to believe the latter because to him, andrea is his happy pill. the one who knows how to make him smile. the one who knows just what to do when he's upset. the one whom he loves all his life.

    "are you from the future?"

    if this woman is not andrea and not his mother, then she's either a stranger or someone from the future, right?

*

part 4

[helenofsimblr]

Stella: Unfortunately, Maisie had hit me with a sucker punch and I began to feel like Nigel was a career man first and foremost. I imagined my mother in my head, old, cynical and judgemental. Her body a bit swollen up from the nights she spent eating shit and chain smoking watching the television. I felt frightened at that moment, that would be me too… A cynical judgemental chain smoker waiting for my husband to return from work at some point in the night.

Maisie: So are you missing Nigey-wigey!

Stella: Of course. I wish he could have come with us…

Maisie: He’d have cramped our fuckin’ style honey. Besides, I got us some special treats for tomorrow night, we gonna have a nice time.

Stella: Oh gods Maisie, if you’ve been cooking…

Maisie: Me?! Nah, I don’t cook Stella honey… Shall we get another beer before we call it a night?

Stella: I can’t Maze… I’m totally fucking wasted, I can’t drink anything else…

****

Stella: Somehow, we did end up having more beers and other drinks… and I… ended up draped over the bar like a throw over the sofa… I could hear the women talking with the barmaid just about as I still had a shred of consciousness left, back then, I had no idea what they were saying, but now… I know it wasn’t complimentary of me, I may be misremembering but, I think the gist of it was…

Barmaid: (Sulanish) These Districtians, they come here, drink the rum… pass out… *sighs*

Right patron: (Sulanish) You know what they are like at summer break… They come here, get high, tan themselves, or sunburn, have sex, and then thankfully they go home.

Left patron: (Sulanish) I’ve been to the United Districts, women like her are everywhere, different culture over there… indulgence, no self control and no discipline. Not to mention crime! I also heard a rumor that the King has come ashore again… And that he has been watching this one here…

Barmaid: (Sulanish) I can only hope that the King merely wishes to entertain himself with her and nothing more… 

Stella: They made a few comments about your mother Morrigan, basically all of it most complimentary and how they all missed her too. Well as disgraceful as I must have looked draped over the bar…

****

Stella: Maisie I would say was in a worse condition… She was going to wake up with a bad neck for sure. Luckily the island had a Chiropractor which was a great piece of news for her the next day…

Ozen: I hope what they said didn’t bother you too much Stella, I mean, I’ve been passed out a few times in the bars of Sulani, and even in the castle itself! 

Morrigan: You have, you drunken clodhopper! You’re a disgrace and a liability sometimes. Between you and father, you have both marred this Royal House with disgrace at various points. 

Ozen: Ah! What is it grandma Amphitrite would say? “All the sins in the world can be washed away with the lapping of the tides”

Morrigan: Very good Oz, I see something sank in! Apologies Stella, please continue. 

[googledetective]

I’ve talked about this song with people on instagram and discord and people don’t really seem to get why I associate this song with the dynamic of Tsurugi Kinjo and Rei Mekaru in the Kisaragi Foundation after DRA. So, I’m gonna do a bit of a post here explaining why.

‼️DRA, SDRA2 & OMAKE SPOILERS‼️

(feel free to listen along while reading)

why “Another Shot of Whiskey” by the Gits reminds me of Rei Mekaru’s perspective on Tsurugi Kinjo;

“You walk in with another headache

I can tell by the lines in your face”

(Rei walks into the foundation everyday, and he’s usually working himself half to death and is constantly going over his morales.)

“You seem to think if you just remove the problem

The answers are what will come next”

(A part of Kinjo’s whole philosophy on everything. He thinks that removing all the criminals in the world is the solution and everything will be better afterwards.)

“Another shot of whiskey

And maybe I'll be ready

For what's still crowded in your head”

(Rei needs a drink before Kinjo unloads his philosophy bullshit on her before she can even begin to tolerate it.)

“Never thinking that all the good times

Are what walked in with the bad”

(All the good times she’s had at the foundation are bc of the killing game. This could also reference all the good times she’s had at the foundation are bc of Tsurugi Kinjo, but he’s also is a lot of the bad times too.)

“I don't know why we compromise ourselves

I thought it was a common understanding”

(I am not so sure abt this line besides the fact there’s a lot of self sacrifice in the foundation. This, or the fact that they are all workaholics and work way too hard.)

“With all I've tried to help with

Tell me, do I end up empty handed?”

(Rei tries to change things and help out a lot at the Foundation, but Kinjo’s ideals get in the way and nothing gets done.)

“Another couple of beers while I'm safe here at the bar

And maybe I'll get me some rest”

(Rei needs a fucking drink to finally wind down cause she’s a workaholic)

“Don't know why all the good times have to turn-up with the bad”

(Same as the first time this line came up)

“It's like a sword of hate

You brandish it so proud

I wonder if you're taught what you feel”

(Kinjo’s ideals are so hate-filled and he preaches them proudly. The second part is kind of like ‘where did he get that from’, and it hints at the fact that Kinjo was taught all this by his dad anyway.)

“Or is it the way you got it cold dead in your eye?”

(His eye in sdra2 is full of hatred, once you see him tip the hat off.)

“It would be good if you could just

Leave me well enough alone”

(Sometimes Rei needs Kinjo to give her a break bc lets be fr, he’s probably exhausting.)

“The crime of fate is what I have to follow through

If I'm going to get past you”

(Fate needs to keep her fighting against him because she’s got no motivation to anymore.)

“Another shot of whiskey

And that's about the only

Way I can listen anymore”

(She needs a drink before she has to listen to Kinjo’s BS)

“Go ahead and drown me of everything

At least I still got my place at the bar”

(Kinjo robbed Rei of leadership and a lot of other stuff, but at least she’s still running strong in her place at the foundation.)

The rest of the song is all repeating lyrics, but I hope y’all enjoyed this schizo post 💀