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pinkie-quinns · 11 days ago

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rocker eddie/actor steve | exes to lovers | fame au p6 (final part)

p1 p2 p3 p4 p5 interlude

Steve thinks about second chances, as he walks along Greenwich Ave. He thinks about them when he tosses the wig in a garbage can that reeks of puke.

And he thinks about them, when Eddie opens the door, eyes catching on the rip in Steve’s jeans, the liner under his eyes. When he lights up & says, “You came.”

Yeah, Steve thinks about second chances.

He offers Eddie a small smile as he walks in, can’t bring himself to acknowledge it all. The world of them. Him going. Eddie playing that song. What that could mean, like, actually mean. Can’t do it yet.

He likes this place better than the mansion in LA. It’s messy and grungy with stupid, corny shit plastered on the walls. Feels more… Eddie.

They walk out to the balcony. It overlooks a tiny little green space, his neighbors’ homes. Eddie lights a cigarette and offers one to Steve. Steve quit years ago. Eddie knows that now. He takes it anyway.

“Last tour I sold out Madison Square Garden and now I sell out Forest Hills.” Eddie’s chuckling, “Like I’m back at the trailer park.”

Eddie’s third album didn’t do the numbers his first two had. So they’d downsized, just a little.

Steve sighs, he didn’t fly all the way out here to coddle his ex, “It was a good show, Eddie.”

“Yeah.” He drags, smiles to himself. “It was a really good show. I’m really glad you saw it, baby.”

Steve cringes, full body shiver. Eddie doesn’t seem to realize what he said, Steve’s sure as hell not gonna clue him in.

“How’d your meeting go?”

Steve tries to play it off. “Good. Pretty good.”

Eddie chuckles again, leans into him that way he always does, like personal space is more of a suggestion than a boundary. A hand brushes his cheek, a light, teasing tap of knuckles, “What’s pretty good, Harrington?”

Steve smiles into it. Can’t help it. “There’s uh… you know that blacklist script I mentioned last month? There’s probably a lead there for me.”

Eddie lights up again, bright and true, “Steve, that’s amazing.”

Steve snorts, “Not jealous?”

“Nah, I’m happy for you ba-” Eddie catches it this time, chokes on his drag, coughs and flounders, “Happy for you, man.”

Steve’s not sure if he can do this, actually. Can’t face this Eddie. The one whose ego isn’t a storm cloud, who’s okay failing, who’s okay seeing him succeed. Who’s honest and sincere and wants the best for him. Eddie who would lose thousands of fans just to sing Steve’s favorite song.

Eddie’s eyes are shiny, “But you’ve been good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good. Keeping busy. I filmed an Amex commercial. Good money. Made my agents happy.” He’s rambling around it. He squints into the dark, drops it casually as he can muster. “I’m gonna start seeing that country singer, probably. The one with that Kansas song? Our people are setting something up.”

Eddie’s face falls, the sun out with a sentence. “What are we doing here, Harrington?”

Steve’s tone is bleary, sheepish, “What?”

“Been losing my mind this last month. Can’t stand not having you around. But you- you’re dating?”

It’s a shrug, it’s all he's got, “Sure.”

Eddie’s hunched, shoulders tight. He talks small. “You told me you loved me. Before you left.”

Steve huffs a breath. The air is cold. “C’mon. You were like, obliterating my brain with your dick. I say impulsive shit like that all the time.”

He doesn’t. They both know that.

Eddie clicks his teeth, shakes a whisper. “Nah. You don’t.”

Steve falters, trips on his tongue. He finds his voice low and hoarse, he can barely say it, “Please don’t hold me to it.”

Eddie won’t look him in the eye. He blinks up at the sky, “I love you. For the record. I um, I never stopped. Guess I’ve been pretty obvious about it.”

“Eddie, c’mon. Don’t do this. It’s not fair.”

“Date Dorothy.” His laugh is glacial. “I don’t mind. It won’t be real, right? Those things never fucking are.”

“I don’t know– it could be.” The ground’s falling under Steve’s feet. “Down the line, or whatever.”

Something cracks, crumples. “I had you. God fucking damnit. I had you and I–”

Steve’s not expecting the sobs until they happen. Flemmed and shaky and pathetic. Those brown eyes silver-wet like moons.

Eddie pushes his palms into his cheeks. “Sometimes, after you leave, I just stare up at the ceiling and try to invent like, time travel or something. Just to go back and slap the shit outta myself. I was a goddamn coward. Couldn’t face it. Could talk around it, sure. Write it into my songs like that was honest. But, nah, I couldn’t look in the mirror. Definitely couldn’t look at you. I’m facing it now. I need you to know that. It won’t fix all shit I did, won’t fix the stupid fucking way I tried to fix it the first time. It’s there, it’s out, hell, it’s goddamn double platinum.” He sputters it out miserable, “But I am trying. Even if this– if we can’t. Need you to know I’m facing it now. I want to be better.”

Then Eddie looks right at him, looks at Steve like looking is enough to break his heart. “And I don’t wanna be selfish anymore cause it’s poison, Steve. But fuck. I know I don’t deserve it but if you’ll have me, I’ll– I’m there. Whatever way you’ll take me.”

“Eddie.” Steve doesn’t know why he’s here. Why he keeps digging this wound, ripping out stitches.

“Please? Can’t walk away again. Don’t have it in me.”

“Yeah.” Steve laughs. “You only do that when it’s easy.”

Eddie flinches. Shoves a ringed hand into a pocket. “Too late, huh?”

Steve scratches the back of his head and turns on his heel, “We can’t keep doing this.”

He gets as far the kitchen. Eddie quicksteps in front of the counter, blocks his out. But he’s cowering, ducking his head. “Did you um, like the song?”

It swells up all at once, that bone-deep cruelty of it. A gust turned tsunami. “Not really, Ed. Kinda broke my fucking heart.”

“Shit,” Eddie clicks. “Yeah, I, um, I’m not all that good at the grand gesture thing. Probably should have figured that out by now.”

Steve lets it all in. The red that’s been thrumming through his body since this whole thing started. Lets it possess him. He pushes into Eddie’s space, callous and cruel. “You’re really fucking me up, here. Do you know that?”

“I– I’m not trying to.” Eddie blinks. Frustratingly earnest.

“What we’re doing– Whatever this is. It makes me feel pathetic. I’d be the dumbest asshole on the planet if I took you back.” He’s screaming now. The balcony door is still open. He doesn’t care if anyone hears. He wants them to hear.

Eddie’s lip is shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate you.” Steve murmurs. The red’s coming off in whisps, quicker than it ever had, easier than it should.

Eddie’s smile is weak. His face is wet. “I know.”

“You ruined me.” He leans in, finds half a punch in it. Last one he’s got.

Eddie closes his eyes, brow furrowed. “I know.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” He’s tired. Bone tired. Tired of the ache that only ever seems to go away around, well–

Eddie’s guilt is plain. It's all of him. “I’m sorry.”

Steve takes a breath. He thinks about second chances.

“You really want to be with me?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s already burrowed in. Ribs and guts and blood. “Got my priorities way out of whack for a minute there. Jesus, way too many minutes there. But yeah. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. You’re it for me, Stevie.”

Steve groans, taps his forehead lightly against a shelf. Eddie’s hand lands steady at his arm, awkward and cautious and right. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No.” Eddie says soft. “You’re not.”

“Yeah, I am.” Steve shakes his head. Waves a finger into Eddie’s chest. “You sang Dave fucking Matthews.”

“Don’t remind me, man. They’re gonna start shattering my CDs.” He pauses, sincere as ever. ‘I, uh, wouldn’t take it back though.”

Steve groans again, presses his head into Eddie’s shoulder. “No, you don’t get it. You sang Dave Matthews and now I’m gonna have to call my team and tell them it’s not gonna happen with the country singer.”

Eddie blubbers, big Saturday morning cartoon recalibration. “You’re– what?”

Steve shrugs, catches his eye. “Now I’m gonna have to talk about my coming out journey with Angie at People and dude, she’s been on my ass about it for years. Total sore winner.”

He’s shaking his head, “Harrington… Steve. Stevie.”

But Steve keeps rattling on, “I’m gonna have to tip off the paparazzi that Dark Pines star Steve Harrington was spotted sneaking into Eddie Munson’s brownstone at midnight for a secret rendezvous. Gonna have to go for a jog around the block first thing tomorrow, with like, more hickeys than a teen who just got their first girlfriend.”

“You’ve really thought about this, huh?”

Eddie’s back pushes into the edge of the kitchen counter. And Steve thinks about that photo that forced them together again, about Eddie’s easy grin, about the soft adoration high on his cheeks, about never being so young. He thinks about fucking up and growing up and growing apart and changing. And he smiles against chapped lips that taste like cigarettes and coming home.

And he says, “Gonna have to find someone to give me the hickeys.”

And Eddie lights up like the sun, “I know a guy.”

And Steve, well, he thinks about second chances.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #angst #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fanfic #twitter threads (but actually this is a tumblr exclusive atm)#fame au

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago

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AITA for advising a woman to get married?

Maybe I'm digging my own grave because this website is very US centric but I'm hoping you see where I'm coming from. I (mid 20s M) come from a culture where arranged marriage is the norm. I have this friend Maya (early 20s F) who also comes from a similar culture, but the difference is that hers values consent more, whereas where I live, only the parents have a say in the matter. We also have a USAmerican friend Jade (late 20s F) who will make an appearance at the end.

Maya is a sex repulsed Ace, and she kept saying she will stay single forever. I know what the situation for women in her country is like, it would be very difficult to live without a husband. One day she made a vent post saying how her parents keep asking her to reconsider, that they are worried about her being alone for the rest of her life, and her father is worried about who will financially support her after he dies.

She didn't come out to her parents, no use of doing it since they won't even understand what Asexuality is. All she did say that she refused to marry a man she wasn't in love with, and implied she will never fall for one. She's trying too hard to prove she can be an independent woman.

Her family, out of concern, told her that marriage isn't about love. She can marry someone who she is compatible with and get along just fine. That many people don't end up married to the love of their lives and even if they do, they end up losing the spark anytime but stay because they built a loving home together.

I don't find this a bad thing. Stability is very important in marriage. I mean sure, I wish I could marry the love of my life, but if my parents decided that my next door neighbor would be my wife, I would go along with it because that's just how things are where I live.

I told Maya this and she got upset with me. She said my case was different because I'm a guy (??) And because I was hetero.

I told her to value her culture more, and she has the advantage over me because she can actually CHOOSE her spouse. She got angry and said I wasn't being considerate of her feelings, and she'd rather die than be touched by a man, which frankly is making me worried.

I told her she wasn't being realistic. She is fine for now, but she will suffer in the future. Being single in our cultures is very difficult and she needs to give up. She replied with long paragraphs about how she doesn't care. I say this because I care about her as a friend, and her parents from what she described are good people too and they care about her too. She doesn't appreciate it and thinks she can live alone for the rest of her life. Unlike the west, roommates arrangements aren't available here. If she loses her family, she becomes dependent on relatives who may or may not be available. Frankly I think she's very influenced by the western lifestyle which will get her nowhere in real life. And she's disabled and works a minimum wage too.

Maya stopped talking to me for days. The whole discussion was a on a public post so by the time our mutual friend Jade woke up (different time zones) she read the whole post and came to scream at me in DMs. Jade was Ace herself, she told me I was being sexist and acephobic. I told Jade that wasn't my intention but she should stay out of our business because she can't relate to our cultures and isn't being helpful to Maya, and she has it easy because she has the resources available that allow her to be independent.

AITA for wanting my friend to realize she's being unrealistic and things won't work for her in the future?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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cobaltperun · 10 months ago

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Lost (14) - Collide

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 6.3k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Where do we go from here when they're tearing down our lives?-

The steaming mug of hot chocolate, a warm blanket, and another night all alone. If only there weren't so many memories tied to this house she would have moved somewhere, at least to an apartment or something. It would be more manageable, that was for sure. It was just too hard to think of anywhere else as her home. Even now that she had a second chance in you.

In a way, at the very least.

You've said it once, you're not Zack. You're still the only family he had beside her. At least as far as the family that accepted him goes. So, in a way, you were the only living reminder of him. You made her so happy when you visited her. And you brought the most wonderful, loving girl, with you. Watching you happy, in a healthy, wonderful relationship with someone as kind and loving as Tara, even after everything the girl went through, made Susan feel at peace.

Her phone suddenly rang. Maybe it was you, she rarely got calls from anyone else, but you made sure to call every now and then. Then she'd get to talk to you, Tara, and sometimes even Sam. Now that she thought about it, she had an unread message from you, she got it while she was at work and then it slipped her mind to read it later. That was probably why you were calling. So, Susan picked up her phone.

"Hello, Susan," she didn't recognize the voice. Maybe it was one of the patients from the hospital, or a doctor or a nurse she rarely talked to.

"Hello, I'm sorry, but who is this?" she took a sip from her mug, the warmth easing her loneliness as she waited for the answer.

"Oh, no one important. I was actually calling because of Y/N, she told me you are her half-brother's mother and that if anything happened, I could call you," Susan immediately sat up straight at that. No matter what, no matter how close you and Susan got over the past year you did not share that information with anyone other than your closest friends. The fact that whoever this man was knew about Zack was alarming.

"Did something happen to her?" she wanted to hang up and call you right away.

"Not yet, no, but it could. So, what's your favorite scary movie?" Susan, having read the books after what happened to you, recognized the line. She remembered the state you and Tara were in when you came to her house.

If what she heard was true she was done for. The killer was with her. So, she hung up, quickly opening the messages. She didn't even get to type a single letter before a knife stabbed her back. She cried out, dropping her phone. The piercing of her flesh continued as the figure of a masked monster in black robes came into her line of sight. The stabs would have been enough, but the killer made two deep cuts on the crooks of her arms. She'd bleed out slow enough for it to hurt, but quickly enough so that no one could help her.

And then the monster left her, lying on the floor, with Zack’s gloves in hand.

She could barely move her arms, but the adrenaline still pumping through her veins helped her reach the phone. She managed to type exactly three letters as her vision became blurry and hit send. She wouldn't be found until two days later when a neighbor noticed her doors were left wide open.

Thousands of miles away, all the way in New York you were woken up by your phone. You groaned, reaching over to your nightstand, and blindly grabbing your phone to look at the message. You smiled. Leave it to Susan to respond with only one word.

"Mhmm, Y/N," Tara complained sleepily as she hid her face from the light coming from your screen.

"Sorry, Love,” you kissed the top of her head as an apology. “It's Susan. I'm guessing she's down to spend Thanksgiving with us," you couldn’t help but pull her a bit closer when you felt her smile against your neck. It was Tara's idea, really, because not only did you have spare room, but Susan was important to you, and Tara liked her a lot as well, so it was a logical suggestion as far as Tara was concerned. Once you heard that you went and invited Susan to spend a week in New York, since you hadn't seen each other ever since you came to New York.

Her response? Fun. You figured that was a 'yes' and sent her a thumbs up, which she immediately read. No response came, but you expected that, as Susan wasn’t too big on texting. You'd just call her after you figure out a proper plan for that week. Which would have to wait, because you had another exhausting week ahead of you.

~X~

Nine, god damn, hours. You felt like you were just about ready to kick Thomas' ass for just dropping a two-week-long vacation on you out of the blue. If only it was your vacation.

So, instead of canceling his classes you were replacing him. Instead of doing the morning sessions and the second afternoon training session, which would mean 4 and a half hours at the gym, you were stuck with Thomas' sessions as well. Which basically meant you were at the gym from 6:45 am to 10:15 a.m., then again from 11:45 a.m. to 3:15 p.m., and finally from 4:45 to 8:15 p.m. So, nine hours of training people and an hour and a half to keep the gym running. By the time you came home after the third training session, you were too exhausted to do anything. And you meant anything! Cooking? Cleaning? Almost all of your chores were now split between Sam and Tara and you. The best you could do was wash the dishes or do some light cleaning, and you were done.

Tara hated it even more than you did. You tried, you really did, you'd go back home after each double training session, and you'd buy flowers, things like that, but it didn't help much. You loved how needy Tara was, how she wanted to spend time with you, to be held by you. Right now, her neediness proved to be a double-edged sword.

You tried to watch a movie with her, but you fell asleep. Tara understood that. She did not understand how you fell asleep last night while she kissed your neck. She wouldn't even look at you or speak to you when you dropped by after morning sessions.

That's how you ended up right where you were now. Parked near the building where Sam’s therapist worked. It was a busy night, which was to be expected, people were partying and wearing costumes, and the usually busy streets got even more hectic. At least the night was clear, though maybe a bit ominous, or maybe you were just too tired. You would have liked to be at home, with Tara, apologizing for last night, but you were waiting for Sam instead, because you had a feeling it would be better if Sam was with you when you came home. You couldn't be more thankful when she came out of the therapy much sooner than she was supposed to.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you greeted the moment Sam got into the passenger seat. Then you noticed the look on her face, that defeated look that told you she opened up a bit and it didn't go well. "Rough therapy?"

Sam looked at you, her eyes softening as she noticed just how tired you looked. "Rough day?"

You turned the engine on, loving the way the car came to life. "You have no idea," you sighed, just ready to get home, take the coldest shower possible to keep yourself awake, and hopefully make up for the last night's inability to stay awake. At least driving wasn't an issue. You never bothered to seek an explanation, but whenever you were driving you were completely awake, no matter how little sleep you had, or how tired you were. Step out of the car, sleepy, behind the wheel, completely awake. Maybe it was as simple as being responsible and not wanting to get into an accident, frankly, you only cared that you could drive and not worry about falling asleep.

"Tara?" Sam guessed, though that probably wasn't difficult, you saw how cranky Tara was this morning. Sam must have seen it as well.

"Uh... let's just say I fell asleep when I shouldn't have," you blushed, hoping that Sam wouldn't question it further.

"You've been exhausted ever since Thomas left, I'm sure Tara understands that," Sam did not avoid further questioning. Even though she was mostly trying to comfort you.

"Yeah, not when you fall asleep while your girlfriend is kissing your neck," you grumbled through clenched teeth. You didn't need to turn to look at Sam, you could feel the incredulous look on her face. In your defense, Tara was warm, and lying on top of you, and you were tired, and the kisses felt really comforting and good. Comfy and sleepy was a combination not even you could beat.

Sam suddenly began stifling a laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just funny," well, you'd probably laugh about it once Tara gets over it. "You two will be fine, Tara just misses you, you know?"

You nodded, not taking your eyes off the road. You knew better than anyone how Tara was, you knew how much she missed you, and she knew you missed her too. She was just being salty at the moment. "I know, Sam, I miss her too," you couldn't help but smile, it was just a small lover quarrel, not even that, really, since you didn't have the capacity to participate.

"I have an idea," you were vaguely aware of Sam pulling out her phone. Was she calling Tara? Probably.

No one answered though and you were suddenly reminded of what happened roughly four months ago.

"You know you're supposed to pick up when I call," Sam's concerned voice made you even more worried. "I got out of therapy early and Y/N is driving me back home. I was thinking we could cook dinner tonight. I mean, if that's what you'd like," she left the message and sighed.

"She probably, ah, I don't even know, maybe her phone is charging?" you were grasping at straws, but you weren't ready to think of the other options just yet.

"Or she's at a party, Omega something," Sam buried her face in her hands, trying her best to not get frustrated right away.

"What party?" shit, you were starting to think falling asleep last night was the worst possible timing, ever.

"There's a frat party tonight, she really wanted to go, but I begged her not to," the arrangement you and Sam managed to get Tara to agree to, remained unspoken.

After Tara first disappeared and went to a party the three of you came to an agreement. She could have her parties, as long as you or Sam were with her. Mindy or Chad wouldn’t do, Tara refused to listen to them, she refused to stop unless you or Sam made her stop, and as worried about Tara as they were, they didn’t exactly want to go to parties to babysit her. You wouldn't stop her from having fun or drinking until she reached a very specific point between drunk and no longer aware of what was happening.

You hated just watching over her, but you tried to step in sooner exactly one time before she got drunk. The next time there was a party Tara went and disappeared again, so you just figured it was better to stay by her side and make sure she was fine than to drive around the whole damn city looking for her.

"I don't know how to reach her, Sam," you confessed, the mental toll of watching Tara cope in one of the worst ways possible was slowly getting to you. You'd do anything to get her to stop drinking like that, but she just wouldn't listen to you. "Should I just drive straight to that party?"

Sam thought it over. "Let's check if she's home first."

You both knew it was extremely unlikely, but you still hoped.

You hoped even as Sam unlocked the apartment, but you couldn't hope once it was clear Tara wasn't there. You leaned against the wall, completely awake now. "She didn't even bring her taser," you pointed out, huffing as you began pacing the apartment. You knew you should already be heading out to find Tara, but you just needed a moment.

"I'll go get her, rest for a bit," you wanted to argue when Sam said that, but honestly, you just felt relief. "I'll call you if she's not at that party."

"Thanks," you just let her, not sure how drunk Tara would be, or if you were ready for another hunt all over New York, so if you could delay it even for ten or fifteen minutes, you'd accept that opportunity. You sat down on the sofa as Sam left the apartment.

"How the fuck am I supposed to help you, Tara?" you leaned back against the sofa, letting your eyes close just for a moment.

~X~

She was annoyed, not nearly as drunk as she would have liked and the party was running out of alcohol. You were working, and you were covering Thomas’ classes as well, so you were exhausted. Tara understood that, hell, she was thankful that your job functioned the way it did, because you normally had plenty of free time. And you had every other weekend off, seeing as you’d work one weekend, and Thomas would take the other. You had enough time to study, attend most of the classes and still had time for her.

If she wasn’t drunk, she’d admit she overreacted this morning, that as strong as you were you weren’t superhuman and that all the exhaustion just caught up with you last night. That it wasn’t what you wanted, but you just couldn’t fight it, and she knew what kind of effect she had on you, she knew you got really comfortable when she was on top of you.

She’d apologize tomorrow, because she knew you’d get worried if you come home and see she wasn’t there. She still had at least half an hour left until Sam was done with her therapy, and if she was lucky the two of you would take your time coming home, which would let her go back home and pretend she was asleep, so maybe she could avoid making you worry. Neither you nor Sam would know she was at a party, and everything would be just fine.

She had enough time to find a few more drinks, so when a guy that clearly wanted to fuck her offered her drinks, she figured she could just grab the drinks and go back to Mindy and Anika. She’d get drinks, he’d get disappointed, but she wouldn’t have to deal with him too much. At least that was her drunken reasoning.

~X~

When your eyes opened again it was because of your phone ringing. "Did you find her?" you answered without quite looking at who was calling you, it had to be Sam, and you immediately got up, ready to get the car keys if Sam didn't find Tara.

"I did. She's pissed though, she should be at the apartment in a minute or two," Sam warned you.

"She's pissed? Brilliant! Just perfect!" you hung up just as you yanked the doors open and saw Tara climbing up the stairs. You noticed they were all dressed like they went to some costume party, which, given it was Halloween wasn’t much of a surprise. Tara looked like she was dressed up as a pirate.

"Don't you even start!" she yelled the moment she saw your mouth opening.

You felt really close to snapping as you stepped outside the apartment to meet Tara. "Oh, I'm sorry, did your party get interrupted?"

You could see she was going to walk by you and get inside, but the mocking in your tone made her halt right next to you. "It did! And you know what? I was about to hook up with a guy!" if you were any less tired, any more attentive to the way her eyes immediately filled with regret when she said that, then maybe you would have been able to control your temper.

Not tonight though. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time you were with someone while loving me, now, would it?!" a low blow, reminding Tara of her relationship with Amber, but you were reaching your limit.

Tara recoiled as if you slapped her. "Do not bring Amber into this, Y/N!"

“Then do not make me worry and say you were going to cheat!” you fired right back, by this point you were exhausted by Tara’s behavior, by her need to go to the parties and get blackout drunk.

"Hey, come on, this isn't like you," Chad tried to get between you two.

"Stay out of this," you warned, but Tara was already heading inside.

"No need! We're done talking!" she yelled while marching to your room.

"Oh, no, not this time, Tara!" you went after her, catching the doors just as she was about to slam them shut. She didn’t even try to close them, even as angry as she was she just scoffed at you and let you come in after her.

She turned to you the moment you closed the doors. "What do you want, Y/N?! I'm living my life, you hear me?! it's mine, not ours!" she screamed, pushing her finger into your chest. She took a step back, puling the headband she had on off and tossing it aside, she just began changing out of her costume, her breathing getting faster as she pointed at you again. "You're possessive, you won't let me go to any party alone; you've become even more controlling than Amber!"

You threw your hands up in the air, just for a moment looking anywhere but at Tara. "Maybe I wouldn't have to be if you had an ounce of self-control! Or do I need to remind you how I found you the two times you were at a party on your own?!"

"What of it? I ended up in a bad place twice, and? Surely, I've run out of all the awful things that can happen to me by now!" she was having difficulty breathing and the red haze that had overcome you faded away, the telltale signs of her needing her inhaler made you set your anger aside for now.

"And if you haven't? If someone takes advantage of how drunk you are?" you stopped shouting, even though some of the anger was still there.

Tara just shrugged, her breathing uneven as she clearly began struggling, but refused to use her inhaler, not that it would help her right now. "Add it to the list, I guess," you stepped away from her and went outside the room. "Y/N!" she gasped your name but didn't come after you, a coughing fit kept her in place.

You weren’t leaving her; you just didn’t get to take the new inhaler out of your bag. Just goes to show how hectic the past week was. You came back to the room to see Tara leaning against the table in your bedroom, her hands trembling slightly. You unpacked the inhaler you got a few days ago and took her hand gently. "Your current one ran out, right?" you pulled her down with you on the bed and brought the inhaler to her mouth. "I can't, Tara, I can't take it if something happens to you again," you could only hope she would finally hear you. Judging by the way she clung to you, gripping your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, a tiny bit of you hoped she would hear you this time.

"You're not angry with me?" she asked, tired of shouting as well, tired of being angry, of not having you around since you started covering Thomas’ part of the training.

You almost told a lie as you smoothed out the few strands of her hair that were out of place now that she took the headband off. "I am, but I'm more worried about you than I'm angry at you," especially when her asthma gets triggered. At that point, any argument can wait, and you guessed those pauses also made both of you calm down.

"I wasn't really going to hook up with anyone. I just wanted, I don't even know what I wanted. To make you angry, or to hurt you, I guess? I regretted it the moment I said it," she confessed, tentatively climbing into your lap for comfort and only relaxing when you wrapped your arms around her waist.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension between you two dissipating with every moment. Tara was drunk, and pissed that Sam just showed up at the party, and something probably happened there as well that caused this much anger, so, given last night, she wanted a payback, and so she said something she knew would make you angry. “We’ll be fine,” you muttered, leaning your head against her shoulder, you weren’t completely fine, but you would be.

"I'm not messed up," she whispered into your ear, and you pulled back to look at her. The desire to continue what she started last night was more than evident in her eyes, but you shook your head.

"No, you are. You are still drunk," you weren't about to do anything with Tara while she was even slightly drunk.

Tara responded with a huff and pulled back from you as much as she could while still sitting on your lap. "Fine, fine," she knew better than to argue with you on that.

A knock on the doors caught your attention and Tara got off your lap so you could go and open the doors.

"Oh, thank God you're not fighting anymore," Anika said as soon as she noticed neither one of you was frowning.

"Told you love birds would be fine," Mindy patted her on the back.

Chad coughed. "More important things people," he reminded the two and you tilted your head to the side. "You need to see this," he pointed toward the TV, and you felt a shiver run down your spine due to the worried look on his face.

You and Tara went into the living room, Tara sat down while you leaned onto the sofa as all of you listened to the news. You couldn't believe the nightmare was starting again. Someone was brutally stabbed and a Ghostface mask was found at the scene of the crime. Even worse than that Mindy recognized the names and from the look on Tara's face so did she.

"You know them?" you asked as you sat down next to her. She immediately reached for your hand, grounding herself before she could start panicking.

"Barely, not that it matters, this isn't about us," you could see the worry in her eyes, the fear that it actually was about all of you.

That's when Sam came in, followed by a guy you came across every now and then. Danny? Tara thought something was going on between Sam and him, but she didn't have proof and you weren't about to ask Sam if she wasn't going to talk.

The moment Sam figured out what was going on it was like someone flipped a switch. "Pack a bag, we leave in ten," you and Tara just looked at each other before Tara jumped to her feet.

"Sam! Wait, Sam!" Tara went after her into the kitchen.

"We're leaving town," Sam ordered, not even for a moment considering Tara's objection.

You walked in, hugging Tara around her waist from behind to calm her down, she just had an asthma attack and you wanted her to feel safe. "Sam, you know running away didn't work last time," sure, you came back to Woodsboro willingly, but Amber and Richie were going to use Chad, Mindy, and Liv as bait anyway.

"It'll work this time," Sam picked up the biggest knife you had and went back to the living room.

Tara got out of your hug but began holding your hand. "Hold on, let's talk for a second. 'Cause this might not have anything to do with us," Tara followed after Sam, pulling you along and trying to reason with her.

"Are you serious?" Sam demanded, finally turning to look at Tara.

"It's a big city! It's Halloween. Everybody's wearing masks! You don't know-"

"Tara! Tara, this isn't a coincidence! You knew him!" Sam interrupted.

"Barely," Tara leaned back into you, prompting you to once again place your arms around her waist.

"Chad, Mindy, back me up," Sam turned to the twins, purposely not looking at you for support.

"I mean it is a bit..." the expression on Chad's face showed he agreed with Sam.

"Too close to home," Mindy basically finished for him.

"Sam, we finally got our lives together here," you took Tara’s side, yes there were issues, yes, Tara wasn't handling things properly, but you were building something here.

"We'll do that again, somewhere safer," Sam assured you, not even wasting a second to push back against any arguments in favor of staying.

"So, you're just making the unilateral decision to abandon my and Y/N's college education and flee the fucking state!" Tara clenched her fingers around your hands. The weaker grip in her left hand nearly made you reconsider.

"Y/N," Sam turned to you, looking for support. "Please don't take Tara's side just because it's Tara."

You shook your head. "Sam, I'm not going to run every time there's a hint of danger. If we do that we'll always be on the run, I won't live like that and if Tara doesn't want that-"

"Which I don't," Tara quickly chimed in.

"Then I won't let you force her to live like that," you could feel Tara's anxiety rising as Sam remained silent. It felt a lot like back when you decided you’d take Tara to Sacramento, and you and Sam briefly went back and forth on where to go and if Richie should go with you. Tara didn’t want to choose between you and Sam, she didn’t want to see you two arguing, and you didn’t want that either, but Sam needed to know she couldn’t make this decision for Tara. No one but Tara could make it.

And then the phone rang, and Tara nearly jumped in your arms. She wasn't the only one affected, everyone was put on edge by Sam's phone ringing.

Sam went over to the phone and rejected the call. "It was Gale," she said, which wasn't a good sign. Especially since Gale's book didn't exactly make any of you the fans of the reporter.

"Why did everyone freak out when her phone rang?" you almost forgot Ethan was there.

"You gotta keep up, my dude," Anika just told him.

Sam's phone rang again, this time from an unknown caller, and though anxiously she still picked up. "Yes?"

There was a pause for a few moments. "Yes, it's me," Sam replied to whoever was on the other side of the line. "Okay, okay, I'll come," she hung up. "It's the police, they want me to come down to the station," she didn't waste a moment and picked her jacket up to leave.

Tara just looked at you. There was no need to talk, you grabbed your jackets and you turned to Chad. "You guys be careful," you went after Tara, grabbing the keys on the way. You considered driving, but the police station wasn't that far, and it was late, it was Halloween and people were partying, so maybe walking was a better option. Not to mention you were still tired, and maybe you didn’t have it in you to drive to the station and back as you were.

You caught up with Tara at the bottom of the stairs and she gave you a quick, though a bit uncertain, smile. "We'll be fine, Love," you quickly leaned down to kiss the top of her head and then she led you outside, after Sam.

"Sam, slow down," Tara called after her sister.

"Tara, no, get back inside, lock the doors," Sam immediately rejected the idea of Tara coming with her.

"Are you serious? Now you don't want to stick together? Besides, I have Y/N," and both you and Sam knew Tara would feel better if you were there for both her and Sam.

"You heard the boss, Sam, don't fight this," you offered Sam a cheeky smile and she just shook her head.

"Fine, let's go," she gave in and motioned you and Tara to follow her.

~X~

You were about ten minutes away from the station when Sam's phone rang again, and you saw that the caller was... Richie?

"The fuck?" Tara said exactly what you thought.

"I never deleted his contact," you raised an eyebrow at that. Really, Sam? "This is coming from his number."

"Don't pick that up," Tara told her, but you were already tuning the conversation out, instead looking around the three of you.

Whoever was behind this now couldn't appear out of nowhere. You couldn't see anything suspicious behind you, but you felt Tara quickly grabbing onto your forearm. You turned around and saw a man approaching, holding a phone, so you stepped in front of Tara and Sam, ready to act the moment he made any move.

There was no need for that, the man just walked by the three of you.

The police sirens put you on edge as you made sure Tara was close to you.

"You shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet, asshole," just as Sam said it you noticed a movement to your right.

And there it was. The familiar robe and mask coming almost out of nowhere, hidden by the darkness of the night and shadows. You pushed Tara toward Sam and stepped between the two and the reoccurring nightmare. You did a quick jab followed by a hook, sending the figure into the bicycles behind him.

Something felt wrong. He fell too easily. As if he decided to fall. "Run!" you ushered Tara and Sam, not that you needed to as Sam was already getting Tara away from the could-have-been fight.

You turned back when you caught up to them, to see the Ghostface chasing after you.

"Y/N?!" you saw fear in Tara's eyes, the confusion caused by you of all people running.

"Something's different! I don't know what, but it just feels wrong!" you liked to think years of fighting gave you a good sense of what someone can and can't do in a fight and you didn't like one bit what happened right there.

Your words only increased Tara's fear. "Help! Please!" She cried out, hoping maybe someone would hear her.

"In there!" Sam pointed at a bodega just around the corner.

The three of you ran in, with Tara and Sam cutting the line and pleading for the clerk to call the police. You just stood with your back turned to them, waiting for Ghostface. You saw him at the door, looking much bigger than you. Tara, probably still thinking about what you just told her, grabbed onto your forearm, and tried to pull you back. "Please, Y/N," you glanced back, seeing the fear in her eyes. That one moment was enough for everything to go wrong. Ghostface quickly killed two men, tossing them aside and advancing toward the three of you.

"Sam! Don't!" judging by Tara's screams you figured Sam was pulling her back.

You relaxed, easily shifting into a fighting stance. As wrong as it felt, you knew there wasn't a way out without a fight. Besides, if you could end this now, you'd have only one more Ghostface to worry about.

"Hey!" the man working at the bodega shouted and raised a shotgun, firing it at Ghostface. As the Ghostface vanished behind the shelves you couldn't help but wonder why the man didn't just shoot first. You know, without warning the clearly armed and dangerous masked individual?

"Go out the back!" he told the three of you.

Well, you weren't about to waste that.

"Thank you!" Tara said, but as the three of you got to the back doors you realized it was locked. "Shit! Keys! We need your keys!"

The man turned to give them to her and Ghostface took his chance. Stabbing the man and taking the shotgun, shooting the man that tried to help you.

The three of you ducked behind shelves and you glanced at Tara. You've fought Ghostface before. You were afraid before. But back then you were afraid for Tara. Now you were afraid of the killer. There was nothing you could do against a shotgun. There was no way you could get shot and survive, let alone continue fighting. There was no way Tara or Sam would survive and just for a moment, between fight, flight, or freeze, your body chose to freeze.

Ghostface shot the freezers behind you, shattering the glass. Sam began moving again, trying to crawl to safety, trying desperately to keep Tara alive. Tara, however, wouldn't move an inch without you.

Another shot knocked a bunch of cans down, halting your escape and making Tara squeeze your hand. That snapped you out of it and you pulled the two of them back toward freezers. From the looks of it, you did that just in time as Ghostface came to the side you were on mere moments ago. You looked at Tara as she silently cried and moved, staying crouched as you moved toward Ghostface. You'd go around the shelves and try to take him down from behind.

Your heart hammered in your chest when you turned around the corner and saw a shotgun right in front of your face. You weren't fast enough to get it out of the way, no, you were allowed to grab it and lift it up. "Run!" the last time you screamed as loud as you just did Amber was holding Tara at gunpoint.

"Y/N!" Tara screamed your name, but you didn't look at her, you looked at Sam.

"Take Tara and run, damn it!" you yelled, pushing the shotgun up to make sure Ghostface couldn't shoot any of you. You couldn't focus on anything else, not on the screaming or Sam's frantic attempts to get Tara out of bodega, you could only focus on the fight. You felt a small sense of relief, knowing that as long as you kept holding the shotgun Ghostface wouldn't be able to let go of it either.

The moment you vaguely heard the doors opening you yanked the shotgun down and kneed the man in his stomach. There wasn't even a grunt, but he tossed the shotgun away so that neither of you could use it. You let him, using the small opening to land an uppercut to the jaw, followed by several hard and fast punches to the face. You pushed him into the counter, continuing the assault. It felt wrong. It felt like your punches barely affected him. He was moving, reacting to your punches, but it was too much, it was as if he was moving on his own, and not due to your hits.

A hard hit to the side knocked all the air from your lungs and he easily pushed you back. He slammed his shoulder into you, taking you to the ground. You gasped for air, barely having time to put up a guard before a fist could connect with your face. You recognized this feeling all too well. You were in this exact position plenty of times. You raised your elbow, hitting his jaw and getting up just enough to put him in a chokehold.

Another hit to the side nearly made you let him go, but you squeezed harder, trying to find a way to snap his neck despite the mask. The third hit to the side loosened your hold enough for him to get on his feet and slam you back down on the ground. You felt like everything was spinning as he repeated the same motion again. Lifting your entire body up and slamming it back down on the hard floor. By now you were too shaken to even hold onto him, your body was limp in his hold, and you knew there was nothing you could do unless you had at least a bit of time to recover from the impacts.

And then you went flying, right through the glass and onto the pavement. You skidded across the pavement, unable to stop until your back hit the fire hydrant and you gasped as the impact knocked what little air you still had in your lungs out.

"Y/N!" that was Tara's voice. Shit. She didn't get far enough.

"Run, you idiot," you wheezed as you rolled over, trying to get on your hands and knees. You watched as Ghostface stood there, but he wasn’t approaching you. He didn’t need to, you were still at his mercy.

The police arriving saved your life.

Tara was immediately with you, yet you barely heard her saying your name, you barely felt her worried touch. A single thought went through your mind as the police officers scattered around the perimeter and all you could see was a mask on the store's floor. 'I can't beat him.'

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #scream #sam carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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lambtotheslaughterr · 6 months ago

Text

Rise : Chapter Fifteen

A Rafe Cameron Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

CHAPTER FOURTEEN | MASTERLIST | CHAPTER SIXTEEN

IMPORTANT NOTE* hey ya'll! just a reminder that my requests are OPEN. please read this POST before making any requests as i have rules in place. there are four spots left (which you will see at the bottom of the linked post). so get your requests in if you're wanting to use me;p

You taught yourself to not wish for the obvious in the end of times. You stopped wondering what ever happened to your parents, your friends, your neighbors. You quit hoping that someway, somehow, the world would heal itself & you would find yourself & millions of others back to some semblance of a normal life. But most off all, you didn’t dream about waking up from this nightmare. It was real. It was happening. And all you could do was run with it. But what you would spend your time wishing for is that time would move faster.

The last week dragged by miserably. Though you were glad to have your own secure role in the group, it was oftentimes lonely. Those who scavenged were gone for days at a time, & those who didn’t worked together day-in & day-out. You were the only one who had this small corner of the building to yourself, & others rarely came to visit. One visitor you could always count on though was Rafe.

Though you were still wary of him, of the truths he told you, you still welcomed his presence. It was your only real human connection in the midst of all the bullshit. But your relationship with Rafe was beginning to bother you.

It wasn’t until a couple days ago when you were heading to the mess hall to get your lunch that you heard voices talking carelessly about you. The mess hall was large, where people sat to eat at the other end of it, but voices carried, & the voices that day were as clear as glass.

Your assimilation to the group was being mocked. They welcomed you, at first. But that was only when you were working alongside them. Now, the others were beginning to resent you. You heard as such before entering the mess hall, pausing outside the door to listen.

“Everyone knows that manning a radio is easy work. Boring, but easy.” One voice began. From what little interaction you had with the others, you thought it to be Enzo.

“Don’t forget useless.” Another pointed out & the others chuckled at that.

“Seriously. She doesn’t help at all. Rafe giving her that role was stupid, in my opinion. I mean, he told us when we got here that they were on the radio for days, only hearing recycled announcements. No one else is out there.”

You frowned at that but you knew it to be true.

“He just puts her there to keep an eye on her. He’ll bitch at us about pulling our weight but god forbid if he gives his whore a task worth doing.”

Your heart slammed in your chest at the insult. These people weren’t your friends, but they were supposed to be your community. Now, every smile they gave you felt forced. Every greeting was just a means to keep the peace. They didn’t care about you, they thought so little of you. But perhaps they were right.

Squaring your shoulders, you entered the mess hall, & the voices quieted instantly. But they played it off well.

Maddy elongated her neck, spotting you over Enzo’s shoulder, “Hey, _____.”

You waved a hand but said nothing in return. You gathered some food on your plate & got yourself a cup of water before leaving. You didn’t miss the judgmental scoffs as you did,

“Guess she’s too good for us now.” They all laughed.

Back down in the office, you threw your plate onto the desk, some food falling off. You weren’t hungry, but you couldn’t show weakness in front of them. You didn’t need friends. But the thought saddened you. Only a few months ago you had nine of them. But the world took the lives of half of them & the remaining few had little to say to you. Even Bear.

You thought a lot about Bear. You’d often catch him watching you with a concerned expression. It wasn’t filled with annoyance or resentment like the others. But you rarely had time to speak to him. Rafe was always nearby to interject, send Bear to do a task or find some reason to talk to you. Deep down, you knew Bear was your only friend, but you didn’t know how to get alone with him.

Downing your glass of water, you picked at your food mindlessly. The other were right though. After doing comms for a week there was nothing out there, no one. At first, you felt it was an important role & were happy to take it. But now, the others & their whispers were getting to you. You pushed your plate further back on the desk, your appetite lost.

It was midday, the scavengers were expected to return at some point today, as long as everything went according to plan & it usually did. You hoped to sneak some alone time with Bear. And as you thought about it further, Micah, too. Yes, he hated you, that much was clear. His reasoning was ridiculous but you could live with it. However, he was the one who could get you partnered with the scavengers. He had Rafe’s ear. If you got his approval, you didn’t see why it wouldn’t lead to Rafe’s. Scavenging was, after all, a lot more useful than the comms. The others would quit shit talking then.

You were beginning to doze off in your chair, the sound of white noise acting like a lullaby when it began to cackle & pop. You opened your eyes, confused & staring at the radio. It sounded like when you’re on the phone with someone & they forget to hang up, putting their phone in their pocket. All muffled movement. And then…

“Come in, hello.” The voice was clear as day before the radio cackled some more, the signal weak.

You rushed forward, knocking items off the desk in the process. You snatched the walkie connected to the radio.

“Hello, hello.” You spoke back, your heart pounding. As far as you knew, no one had ever made contact with another on this radio.

The radio continued to produce only white noise, but just underneath it all, you could make out the muffle of the voice.

“We—” more white noise.

“I’m here!” You gasped, grateful to hear others. But with the connection so weak you were fearful you wouldn’t get a location of where they were at.

“Our connection is weak.” You shared, hoping they could at least hear you better than you them, “Where are you?”

More muffling. More pops.

The voice responded but it was too static to make out, the interference strong. You gripped the talkie tighter.

Then, one word made it through.

“—of Rockingham.”

Dropping the walkie, you rolled your chair over to the back wall were a map of North Carolina was pinned, the edges fraying.

Your eyes rapidly moved over the map. Rockingham. Rockingham.

There!

It was 60 miles south of Asheboro, a feasible hour drive. You returned to the desk, your voice frantic with excitement as you spoke into the walkie.

“Where in Rockingham?”

The radio only responded with white noise. You asked the question again.

No. You couldn’t lose them. This was the first sign of life.

“Hello, I’m losing you.” You shared. But there was no response.

The radio only returned with it’s usual white noise. You tossed the walkie down in frustration. You had lost them. But it wasn’t all said & done quite yet. Glancing over your shoulder, you eyed Rockingham on the map. The voice had said ‘of Rockingham’. That left a lot to consider. East of Rockingham? West? And if so, how far in either direction? What was their nearest landmark? Or did they mean the Walmart of Rockingham? The precinct? The possibilities were endless. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

But it was something. The first something any of the group had had in weeks. You wouldn’t be useless. And more so, you could be the one to find them. You only needed to get Micah & Rafe on board.

Rafe joined you in time for when the scavengers returned. He still wouldn’t trust you alone with them. It aggravated you, but you couldn’t let it show. You needed him to think you were trustworthy.

As Matt & Robbie passed off boxes & bags of what they found off to Micah & Bear, you & Rafe were in charge of bringing the goods inside. But shortly after you started, Adrianna appeared.

“Rafe.” She stood in the doorway, her eyes hard, “We need you upstairs. Got a problem.”

Rafe sighed heavily, “Can it wait? We just got started.”

“I guess.” She shrugged, “I’ll just tell the others I won’t know how long till the water’s back on.”

“Shit.” He groaned. It had been a nice surprise to learn that the Mill still had running water. But if they water supply was giving grief, it’d only be a matter of time before a domino effect happened.

Rafe turned to you, “Keep bringing stuff in, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” You nodded. Rafe stepped forward, his hand on your shoulder as he leaned forward to leave a kiss on your temple. You forced a small smile up at him.

Once Rafe & Adrianna were gone, you went back outside. This was your moment. You had to get Bear alone. You couldn’t trust Rafe with the information about the others. Not yet.

Micah spotted you first, his expression always one of irritability.

“Where the fuck is Rafe?”

You nodded back towards the building, “Had other priorities.”

“Fuckin’ of course.” Micah mumbled.

On the ground was a pile of goods. But you wouldn’t be able to carry them all yourself. At the risk of appearing weak, you got Micah’s attention.

“I’m gonna need help with these.” You gestured to the goods at your feet, “Bear can help me.”

Micah glared at you, his eyes narrowed. But he ultimately shook his head, “Whatever, just make it fuckin’ fast.”

Bear stepped away from the other side of Micah, helping you to gather what you could carry. He followed after you as you led him back towards the building. Once you were far enough away, you kept your voice hush.

“Bear.” You began, “I heard people on the radio.”

Bear looked at you with wide eyes as he glanced over his shoulder in Micah & the other’s direction.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” You whispered excitedly. Inside, you felt safer to speak louder. “They’re in Rockingham. Or near it. I’m not sure. The connection was weak.”

Bear frowned but nodded. You two took your time putting the goods away.

“We can go.” You told him, “Find them.”

But Bear slowly shook his head, “That’s not a good idea.”

Now, it was your turn to frown, “Why not?”

Bear sighed, looking you deep in the eyes, “Because Rafe’ll kill them.”

You returned his stare, “I wasn’t talking about Rafe…”

It was then that Bear seemed to understand what you were saying.

“You think we should leave?”

“Yes.” You nodded, checking the window to make sure Micah & the others were still far away. “You & me, we’ll go. Leave here. Join others.”

“I’m not against that, but…why?”

“Because Rafe told me how he runs things. How he’s killed people. And I feel like he’s not telling me the whole truth.”

“What has he told you?” Bear squinted his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t trust him. And he doesn’t trust us, that much is clear. So, I say we make a run for it. Head to Rockingham, see if we can’t find those on the radio. But if anything, at least were gone from here.”

Bear leaned against the wall, contemplating your words. He nodded.

“That’ll be tough, ya know. Getting out of here. Rafe keeps it tight.”

“But you know how he runs things. I don’t. We’ll work together & get out.”

He stared hard at the ground, “Are you sure, _____? Because if he finds out what we’re planning, there’s no saying what he’ll do.”

“I know.” You nodded in agreement, “But I’ll feel safer out there with you then with all of them in here.”

“Alright.” Bear stepped forward, his arms crossed over his chest, “We’ll do it. But we’ll need a solid plan. No fucking up.”

“I know.”

“Hey!” You both jumped as Micah suddenly appeared. His flashed between the two of you. “The fuck is taking so long?”

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

“Get back out there.” Micah growled. Bear gave you a look, one that said you two would talk later, before leaving the room. You were about to follow behind him when Micah stepped in your way.

“What the hell were you two just talking about?”

You eyed him innocently, shaking your head, “Nothing. Bitching, really.”

“Yeah? About what?” Micah narrowed his eyes, his favorite look to give you.

“Just life.” You gave a half-hearted smile.

Micah leaned forward then, his voice low, “At least you have one.”

The threatening undertone was there. He leaned back, meeting your eyes, “I’d be grateful.”

“Of course.” Your voice was barely audible. Micah stared at you for a moment longer before finally stepping to the side to allow you to pass.

You rushed forward, your heart thrumming inside your ribcage. Back outside you resumed loading goods inside but Micah was keeping a close eye on the two of you. It felt like you were back in school after having gotten caught passing notes in class. You were a bad seed. Micah wanted to rip your roots out.

You were alone, finishing the final bit of unloading when Bear appeared. It was quick, but to the point.

“He heard us.” Bear began, referencing Micah, “We leave tonight. Meet me in the back alley. There’s a hole in the wall near the room where Rafe kept me. Don’t bring anything with you, it’ll draw his attention.”

“What?” There was no plan. It would be too dangerous, “But we—”

“We go or we suffer.” Bear interjected. He was about to leave, in a hurry to not be spotted by Micah but you grabbed his arm.

“When tonight?”

Bear sniffed, “It’s gonna rain. You can see it in the clouds. When you hear the first thunderclap, go. I’ll set a distraction.”

You nodded. Then he was gone.

You swallowed a lump that was growing in your throat. This was really happening. You & Bear would be leaving. Your hands shook as you put items from the scavenging away.

“What’s got you spooked?” You jumped slightly at Rafe’s voice behind you.

Spinning around, you shook your head, “You were right about Micah.”

Rafe’s eyes hardened at that, “What’d he do?”

“Nothing.” You replied breathlessly, “Just scared me is all.”

It was true, but it would also track if Rafe confronted him. He’d be focused on Micah, not you. And that’s what you needed.

“What’d he do, _____?” He grabbed your elbow gently, but was firm in making you look at him.

“Just said I should be grateful I have a life.” You mustered a smile, “See? So, nothing bad.”

Rafe looked away, his eyes wide with fury, “Go upstairs. You’re done for the day. I’ll talk to Micah.”

“Okay.” You went to move past him but he was still holding you.

“I’d never let him hurt you, you know that, right?”

“I do.”

Rafe nodded then brought you closer. His mouth found yours, his lips warm. You forced yourself to return the kiss. At least you had him in your favor, & you’d be damned if you didn’t take advantage of it.

“Go, I’ll see you in a bit.”

With that, you parted from Rafe & walked away, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before you were released from him for good.

It was dark out. Heavy clouds rolled in & you sat in anticipation on your shared bed with Rafe. He had been gone for a couple hours. You had yet to see him, or Bear even. Your mind was racing at what was about to unfold. Bear said to wait for the first thunderclap, that he would set a distraction. But what kind? You sincerely hoped that with no planning, you would succeed in getting out.

About twenty minutes later, Rafe finally appeared. He came into the room looking exhausted. You sat up in bed.

“You okay?”

He peered at you, giving you a half-smile before nodding, “Yeah, people are just dumbasses, ya know.”

“Mmm.” You replied wordlessly.

He approached you on the bed, crawling up it until he was beside you. You allowed yourself to relax as he brought you into his arms.

“I talked to Micah.”

That made your heart stop. If Micah did hear like Bear said so, what would he have told Rafe? You were no friend of Micah’s, he would have no reason to protect you.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, told him he better quit with the passive aggressive threats or it’ll be his life he’s gotta worry about.”

You gulped. You didn’t want Micah dead. But it would be better him than you.

“What else did he say?”

Rafe sighed heavily, “Just bitched a lot. Nothing for you to worry about. He’ll come around. One day.”

You hoped you would be long gone if that day ever came.

Rafe slipped a hand under your arm, maneuvering you until you were situated atop him, straddling his hips. You didn’t like the positioning.

His hands rubbed up & down your exposed thighs as he stared up at you. Your own hands were mindlessly placed on his stomach.

“What?” You huffed out, giving an awkward smile.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” He asked. Shit. Micah did hear something.

“No.” You frowned, “Why?”

“Like I told you before, some people want to drive us apart.”

You needed him to trust you, to believe you would never betray him. If only for a little while longer.

“They can’t keep us apart.” You told him, feeling brave enough to lean forward, “We belong together, remember? You told me that.”

You ran your fingers along his jawline before threading them through his hair.

“Yeah.”

But he didn’t look entirely convinced. So, you took it one step further.

Rafe sighed into your mouth as you kissed him, his hands gripping your thighs. You opened your eyes enough to see that his were closed. He was licked & nipped at your lips, hoping for entrance. You obliged. As his tongue massaged your own, you were suddenly flipped onto your back. Rafe grinded his hips into yours & a pulse shot up your spine.

It felt wrong. All of it. You unlatched your mouth from his but he continued to kiss your jaw, neck, & shoulder as his hands slipped under your oversized t-shirt. You fluttered your eyes closed, trying to calm your heavy breathing. Rafe would view it as euphoria coming over you, but it was dread.

He leaned upwards to rip of his own t-shirt before returning his body to yours. He cupped your cheek, making you look at him before he returned to kissing you. Bile rose in your throat but you forced yourself to keep it down.

Rafe’s hands found the underside of your breasts, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin there. You gasped into the kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. He dragged his hips against yours, his evident arousal hitting your center nearly perfectly. You moaned reluctantly. But he took it as a means to go further.

Before you could resist, Rafe lifted your top, removing it effectively from your body. You instinctively covered your exposed breasts but Rafe frowned, gently grabbing your wrists, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Your mind was racing, desperately searching for the memories that would back up his claims. But nothing turned up. Rafe kissed down your neck to the valley between your breasts. Your skin erupted with goosebumps as his mouth hovered over a pert nipple. When his tongue grazed over it, your body pushed up into his touch.

“God, I’ve missed this.” He shared breathlessly.

Words failed you, but your body was beginning to respond to his touch. His other hand reached below graze the edge of your underwear.

No. No, no, no.

Tears pricked your eyes. Please.

A clap thunder boomed above, practically shaking the building. You yelped from the loud sound & Rafe’s teeth accidentally nipping your sensitive flesh.

“Shh, calm down.” Rafe grinned, “It’s only a storm.”

It was more than that, though. It was your time to go.

“Rafe.” You pushed backwards, out of his arms, resting against the wall, “I’m not ready.”

“What?” His hooded, heated gaze shifted into one of frustration, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry. It’s not gonna happen overnight.”

“It’s been more than a night, it’s been a goddamn week!” He raised his voice, making you jump more than the thunder had.

You stared at him wide-eyed, “I’m sorry, okay? I don’t what else to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He growled, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do anything. I can do all the work.”

“What?” The fuck was he getting at?

Rafe harshly gripped your ankle, dragging you back down the bed, “Nothing I haven’t done already.”

“Rafe, no!” But he wasn’t listening. He was quick to snatch both your wrists in one hand, holding them above your head as his other hand reached for the button on his jeans.

You shook violently beneath, trying to throw him off you with your hips but he was bigger than you, stronger, & quite literally, had the upper hand.

“After everything I’ve done for you!” Rafe hollered as he moved to rip your underwear off, “This is the least you can do for me.”

A cry tore from your throat as you lied bare before Rafe, your imprisoner.

But just as he was shoving his jeans down his thighs, a sudden boom sounded, shaking the building. But this wasn’t thunder.

“What the fuck was that?” Rafe mindlessly let go of your wrists, listening as you both heard panicked screams in the distance.

“Rafe!” It was Adrianna in the hallway. “Rafe, hurry!”

“Fuck!” He shouted, shoving himself off the bed, “Fuck, fuck!”

Hurriedly dressing, Rafe had seemingly forgotten about you on the bed. You took the opportunity to search desperately for your clothes. You managed to get your underwear & t-shirt back on before Rafe focused his attention on you again.

“You.” He pointed, “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

You said nothing, your body shaking after what he was just about to do to you.

“And when I come back,” He approached you, snatching your chin in his hand, “I’ll finish what you started.”

Tears skipped down your cheeks, your chin quaking in his hold. You ripped your head away from him, but nodded. He didn’t need to know that you wouldn’t be here when he returned.

Adrianna burst into the room then, her eyes briefly flashing to yours, taking in your state of dress before frowning slightly. Then she looked at Rafe, “There’s a fire out front, I think someone exploded your truck.”

“Goddamnit! Let’s go.” Tossing you a look of warning, Rafe finally disappeared with Adrianna, the door slamming shut behind him. But then you heard the grinding pop of metal.

Did he…?

Racing forward, you tugged on the door. It wouldn’t budge.

“No!” You banged on the door, pulling uselessly on it, hoping it would give. But it was locked securely.

“Fuck.” You breathed out. Running to the dresser, you quickly slipped into a pair of jeans before throwing a pair of boots on. You grabbed a jacket folded over the back of a chair & slung an empty backpack over your arms. You couldn’t just sit here & wait. You still had to try.

Another clap of thunder boomed above followed by the sound of heavy rain pelting against the windows. Rushing to windows, you cranked one open, the metal rusting as you did. You groaned painfully as you mustered all your strength to get it all the way open. Rain pelted you in the face, quickly soaking your hair as you leaned out. Rafe’s room faced the back alley where Bear would be.

Leaning out, your looked up & down the alley but it was difficult to make anything out. It was too dark, rain was getting in your eyes, your hair was whipping you in the face.

“Bear!” You screamed but you knew it wouldn’t carry against the rage of the storm.

But then, at the mouth of the alleyway, you saw a figure. Bear. He was too far away to hear you.

“Fuck, Bear!” You yelled again, but no luck. He wasn’t even looking in your direction.

Panicking, you begun to look for anything outside the window you could use to scale down on. But there was nothing, no piping, no grips in the brick that would make getting down easier, no fire escape. Besides, in the chaos of the storm you’d likely fall anyway. But perhaps that’s what you had to do to get away.

You peered down in the dark. It was only two stories. But it wasn’t the typical two stories. The walls were taller here. You’d at least have to jump two & a half to get down. But you had to. Without giving yourself to think on it, you gripped the center of the window, carefully leveraging yourself to swing your legs out.

“Bear!” You screamed once more, hoping he would hear you. But as you peered through the darkness you watched as he took off around the corner. Away from the mill. He had waited for you. He couldn’t wait any longer, Rafe & the others would find him & kill him. You had to be quick if you were going to catch up to him.

Breathing fast, you felt yourself stiffen, you needed to jump. Now! Before Rafe came back, before Bear was in the wind. Jump, _____! Jump! NOW!

A scream ripped from your throat as you launched yourself out the window. The ground came fast, too fast, & you hit it, landing on your feet, but your ankles gave out & you collapsed to the ground.

“Ahh, fuuuuck!” You screeched, reaching down to hold your ankles. They were pulsing. But you had to go. Heaving yourself up, you tested your ankles. They were sore, tender, likely having twisted them, but you couldn’t let that stop you. Limping, you began to move as fast as you could toward the end of the alley where you had last seen Bear.

Please, don’t be far.

You continued hobbling, desperate to get as far away as possible before Rafe discovered you were gone. You had just made it to the mouth of the alleyway, looking in the direction that Bear took off it. It was towards the woods. You had to get there fast.

But just as you started limping in that direction, voices sounded behind you. The loudest was Micah’s. And it was growing closer. There was a few dumpsters to your left & you were quick to dive in between them, desperately hoping that the darkness would shield you from murderous intent.

You tugged your legs to your chest, pressing yourself as much as you could against the brick. Micah’s voice was getting closer. Another voice joined his. Rafe’s.

The storm continued to boom & flash & whip about, making it difficult for you to hear as their footfalls grew closer. And by the time you could, it was already too late.

A bright light blinded you, forcing you to whine as you shieled your eyes from the flashlight.

An impressed whistle came from behind the flashlight, “Well, look what I found.”

The flashlight lowered & Micah stood before you, a deadly grin on his face.

“I told you, man. Her & Bear were up to no good.”

Rafe appeared then as he spotted you. The heavy rain had his hair stuck to his forehead. Another clap of thunder sounded followed by a bolt of lightning that lit up the alleyway. In that brief moment, you saw the look in Rafe’s eyes. And the wrath you saw there rivaled the storm.

This was it for you. That much you accepted quickly. But you hoped Bear got away. But hope, as you knew, was a silly thing to cling to.

alright, the second to last plot turn Rise will take before finishing strong.

as always, please share your thoughts with me via commenting, reblogging w reviews, or dropping an ask. don't leave ya girl hanging, i love to hear your thoughts!

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year ago

Note

I’m craving angst!

could you possibly come up with something involving Ghost or König as a deadbeat father who regrets leaving and tries to come back into our lives?

One Step at a Time (Deadbeat!/Ex!König x F!Reader)

Pairing: Deadbeat!/Ex!König x F!Reader Category: Angst Warnings: Descriptions of Abandonment, Self-Deprecating Thoughts, Mention of Generational Trauma, Verbal Fighting, Swearing, Babies Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: Bro my heart. 😭 I haven’t written much angst, so I apologize if it’s not great. Also, König's real name is "Mathias" in this story. I hope you enjoy!

Pt. 2

You rocked your one-year old baby girl, Emilie, in your arms as you hummed a soft tune. Her cute smile slowly softened as she drifted off to sleep.

“Goodnight, Emi,” you whispered, kissing the tuft of ginger hair on her head. "Mommy loves you so, so, so much," you smiled warmly. Your daughter stirred and yawned as you lowered her into her crib. A warm smile crossed your exhausted features as you admired her sleeping soundly.

To say it wasn't easy being a single mother would be an understatement. You were thankful to have a full-time job and a retired neighbor who watched her while you were gone. And yet...all the money you made never seemed to be enough. Bills would pile up, something would break down, groceries had to be bought on what felt like a daily basis. Everything for Emilie alone bit a huge chunk out of your wallet.

And yet…you adored the little infant bundled inside her crib. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, rubbing the patch of your tummy that still had some fluff to it. You winced as thoughts came bubbling up to the surface.

Thoughts about him.

How he told you he’d be “right back” before slamming the front door and taking off in his truck. That horrible sound always sent shivers down to spine. You sank down onto your bed as your heart sank into the pit of your stomach.

“It’s your fault he left,” a nasty voice inside your head hissed. You clutched your belly as you shook your head. “If you had just taken your birth control none of this would have ever happened,” it chided. You took a sharp breath, trying to ease your nerves until a sudden knock at your door stirred you from your thoughts. Your blood pressure spiked when you heard it:

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three knocks…just like the way he would to do it. You glanced down at your sleeping daughter before slowly walking out into the hallway of your tiny apartment. Another round of knocks came from the door as you approached it, your hand shaking slightly as you slid it over the doorknob. Your eyes widened when you opened the door: the very man who broke your heart stood right in front of you.

“Hal-“ you slammed the door shut before he could even finish his greeting. “Maus, wait!” he called, frantically pounding on the door.

"Go away, Mathias!" you shouted, covering your hands over your ears. Eventually the loud knocking subsided, giving you hope that he left.

"(Y/N), I need to talk to you," his voice was muffled. You scowled.

"What could you possibly want to talk about!?” you yelled back. You heard him sigh from the other side of the door.

"Please? It's important...I promise," he begged, his voice cracking with every syllable. You bit your bottom lip so hard you tasted a hint of iron.

"Don't do it," the voice inside your head screamed. "He left you. What’s stopping him from doing it again?" it hissed. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Your shoulders slumped as you released your grip on your hair. You puffed out a breath of hot air before reluctantly shifting towards the door.

Mathias stood stiff as a board, his icy blue eyes wide as he shuffled awkwardly. You stretched your arms across the threshold as if protecting whatever home you had left.

"Hi," he said with a small wave. Your brows immediately furrowed as you scanned him up and down. His clothes were more put together, most of his lean frame now replaced with layers of muscle. His face was well-shaven, too, a rare sight when you were with him. You shook your head, fighting back the tears that threatened to burst from your eyes.

"If you're here for money, I can't give it to you," you said coldly as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your ex-lover blinked before he raised his hands up.

"Nein, that's...that's not what I'm here for," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. Your nostrils flared as you scowled.

"Then just tell me what you want: the sooner you do, the sooner you'll leave and we’ll both be happier," you snapped. Mathias frowned as his hand fell back to his side.

"It's about the baby," he said. Your eyes flicked up to him as your arms tightened around yourself.

"Oh, so now you choose to care about our-no, my daughter?!" you hissed. Mathias winced slightly.

"Maus-"

"Don't call me that," you growled, your face growing hotter with every second he stood in front of you. “And by the way, the baby’s name is Emilie-not that you’d care,” you added with a deadly glare. Mathias paused before he cleared his throat.

"(Y/N)...I-I was wrong, leaving you to raise Emilie on your own," he swallowed. Your eyes widened slightly at his words, the grip on your arms loosening as you watched him take a step closer. But suddenly, the tears you were trying so desperately to hold back spilled down your cheeks.

"Yes, you were," you snapped, wiping your cheeks with the sleeves of your sweater. Mathias reached his hands out, only for you to take a few steps back. "Y-You literally disappeared right after I told you I was pregnant, Mathias!" you sobbed and shook, the everlasting ache in your chest growing wider and deeper. "How the fuck am I supposed to just let you come waltzing back here after that?!" you wailed. Emilie's cries suddenly tumbled from down the hall.

"Shit, I just put her to sleep," you cursed as you rushed down the hall. Emilie cried and thrashed around in her crib, throwing her tiny, curled up fists around as hot tears poured from her blue eyes. "Oh, Emi, I'm so sorry for waking you up," you gently whispered as you scooped her up into your arms. Her cries immediately softened as you began to gently bounce her, swaying your hips side to side as she gurgled. You flinched when you saw Mathias standing in the doorway to your bedroom. Before you raised your voice, he glanced down at the infant in your arms.

"She...she looks-"

"Just like you," you finished with a sharp tone, turning your head away from him and back to your daughter. Emilie yawned, her eyelids fluttering as she sniffled. You kissed her temple before resting her back in her crib, letting your hands linger on the edge of it. You slowly turned your head, Mathias still hovering in the threshold.

"I-I'm sorry," he swallowed.

"There's a lot of things for you to be sorry for," you said as you walked over towards him, eyes still red and puffy. "Why are you here, Mathias? Really?" you asked as you crossed your arms. He shuffled in placed before slipping his hands into one of his pockets. You blinked when he pulled an envelope out.

"Money...for child support. Or at least, what I estimated it would be," he clarified as he held it out to you. You hesitantly reached over and took it, the weight of it heavy in your hands. "It includes this month, too," Mathias added. You shakily opened it, gasping when you saw several dollar bills inside.

"H-How?" was all you could manage to utter. Mathias beamed as he straightened his posture.

"I decided to enter a program to become a welder," the man explained with a grin. Your throat became tight as you just stared at the money. You clenched your hands around the envelope as you took a deep breath.

"Mathias, this is..." you wiped your eyes again, your heart now tearing at the seams as a waves of emotion crashed over you. He took another step forward.

"I know this may sound crazy...but, I want to be a part of your life-lives, again," he said. Your eyes widened as your breath hitched.

"What?" you asked, your voice strained. Mathias rubbed his arm.

"I know that you and Emilie are going to need more than a paycheck every month," his eyes became glossy as he covered his mouth with his hand. "I-I was a coward," he choked, his fist shaking at his side. You felt like time slowed to a halt as you watched him crumble in front of you. "It was wrong of me to run away-from our relationship, from Emilie…from you," Mathias strained. He looked you in the eyes as he came closer, his body a mere foot from yours.

"(Y/N), I don't expect things to change over night. I know what I did can never be undone: all I ask is if there’s a chance where we can start over?" Mathias swallowed thickly. You glanced down at his hands, now rough and calloused. You sighed.

"Mathias...I-I don't know what to say," you confessed. He nodded.

"I know it's a lot for me to come in here, asking to be a part of your life again," he said. "But...I also want to change, (Y/N). I want to watch our baby girl grow up. I…I want to be the father I never had," his fists tightened. You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked between his flustered face and the envelope of money in your trembling hand.

He was right: the damage had already been done. There was no way to take back all those lonely nights filled with tears and the cold other half of the bed. Time stood still as you sorted through your thoughts, everything feeling so fast and slow at the same time. Anger still boiled beneath the surface…and yet…

"I'm willing to go one step at a time," you finally replied. His frown turned into a wobbly smile as he brushed his tears away with the hilt of his palm. “But I need to know if you’re willing to do that, too,” you said sternly. Mathias nodded.

"Yes, yes,” he said, his eyes lighting up with pure joy. “Thank you, Maus," he smiled. You flinched when he moved towards you with open arms, your face wrought with discomfort. “Sorry,” he sighed as he moved back. “One step at a time,” Mathias repeated your sentiment with a nervous chuckle. You smiled and nodded, a small ray of hope shining through the cracks of your broken heart.

Maybe it could be repaired…one step at a time.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @maybethatfanfictionwriter

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male-body-swap-lover · 1 year ago

Text

Becoming the Old Man Next Door

Carter Austin was annoyed that he had to be home for his parents 30th wedding anniversary. The model was only in town for one night, and even that was too much. He hated Fairview and missed the fast life of New York. The 28-year-old was one of the hottest models on the scene and couldn’t believe he was wasting his weekend in his childhood bedroom.

Hon, we are so excited that you are home. We’ve missed you.

You know how busy I’ve been mom. I’m one of the hottest models. I’m constantly booked.

I know. We told Mr. Jarvis that you were coming home and he was so excited to see you.

Mom, I’m 28. I don’t want to go see our old neighbor.

Oh, just do it Carter. It’ll make him happy. He’s lonely. His wife has been dead for 20 years and he has no children. Just do it.

Fine.

I went next door and rang the doorbell. Mr. Jarvis answered the door. I forgot how fat he was.

Austin my boy. So good to see you. Come in come in. Sit down. I’ll get you a drink.

As I sat in his living room, I looked around at his depressing life. The room seemed straight out of the 1970’s, and it reeked of tobacco. 15 minutes. That’s all I need.

Here’s a coke. So, tell me about New York.

It’s fun. I travel the world. I’m one of the top models out there.

I know. I’ve followed you. You are quite the good-looking young men. I bet ladies throw themselves at you.

I get my fair number of women. And men. I don’t discriminate.

I wish I had your life. My life was always boring. And it’s been worse ever since Marian died. I live a lonely life.

Well not everyone can have my life. This coke tastes weird.

That’s because it’s not coke at all. It’s a special potion. You see Carter, I’m tired of being an old man who never did anything with his life. I want a life in the fast lane. So, I am going to steal yours.

What. That’s not possible

I stand up and try to move, but I can’t. It’s like I am frozen in place.

Carter, look in the mirror. Can’t you see the changes have already begun.

As I stared into the mirror, I could see the wrinkles start appearing on my face. Suddenly I started breathing heavier as I felt myself get older. I ran my hands through my hair and it came out in chunks in my hand. I tried to run, to get out, but couldn’t move. My skin was aging. I could feel my youth leaving my body. Passing 30. All of my hair fell out. Passing 40. Stubble appeared on my face. Then it stopped. I looked in the mirror. Damn. I’m fucking old, but I’m fucking hot.

Haha old man. I’m still fucking hot. Look at me. Your plan failed.

You aren’t very smart are ya Carter. That was just step one.

Step one! I turned to him and saw that somehow his hair had grown back in and he looked middle aged. It’s like my hair and age went to him!

Yes, there are three steps. Let’s start step number two.

With that he clapped his hands and suddenly I felt bloated. My stomach was starting to rumble. I looked in the mirror and my face was bubbling. Suddenly it felt like I was blowing up like a balloon. 10, 20, 50, 100, 150, 200 pounds of fat just suddenly appeared on my body. For some reason as I grew, my clothes grew with me.

I was a whale. No one would ever recognize me. It was absolutely disgusting. I used to make fun of people who looked like this. Now I was one of them. I turned and looked at my captor. He looked good. He was so skinny. It’s like all of his weight transferred to my body! He was hot! I was so jealous. Wait he said this was step two, what was step three going to be?!

Damn, I never even looked this good when I used to be in my 40’s. This is amazing. I bet you are wondering about step three. Well, I suppose it’s time to start the final step. Get ready to say goodbye to any remaining part of your old life.

A wave suddenly washed over me. I could feel the life force draining from my body. My facial hair was turning white. My back pain was killing me. I could feel pain everywhere in my body. Arthritis. But I’m only 28. What is happening. I didn’t even think this was possible.

I’m Marvin Jarvis. Wait what! No I’m not Marvin… I’m um….i’m um. What is going on. It’s like I am losing my memories.

What are you doing to me. Why can’t I remember my name. Why do I think I’m you.

Because, Marvin, that’s part of step three. I become you and you become me. We might not look exactly the same, but the world will change to suit us. Why don’t you look at your license.

I could barely reach my wallet. I pulled out my driver’s license. It still said Carter Austin, and then it changed. Marvin Jarvis. 81 years old. 375 pounds. I looked at the photo and then at my reflection in the mirror. There was the same old man. Me!

You’ll never get away with this.

I already have. Your old memories will continue to slip away until you become Marvin Jarvis. Meanwhile, I’ll get your memories and live out my life again. A world-famous model. Carter Austin. My life is set.

Suddenly my mom entered the house.

Hello Marvin. I just came to get Carter. Dinner is ready.

I wanted to scream out. To tell my mom what happened. All that came out was “Of course Karen. It was lovely seeing Carter again. What a fine man he has become.”

Mom, I am just going to hug Mr. Jarvis goodbye and then I’ll be home.

Okay. See you soon honey. Goodbye Marvin.

The new Carter came and hugged me. Good luck Mr. Jarvis. You’ll need it. Don’t forget to take your heart pills, and back pills, and all the other pills. Don’t drive at night. Also, your social security check barely covers basic living expenses. Haha. Better get one last look at me. This is the last time you’ll see me. I’m never coming back to this hodunk town.

I started crying as the new Carter Austin left. He may not have looked exactly like me, but what does it matter. The world believes he is Carter and I am Marvin.

I sat down because my knees were giving out. I tried to remember everything about my old life, but I could feel it slipping away. I’m trapped. There is nothing I can do. You know what sounds good right now. A good pipe. I wonder if NCIS is on. 6:30pm. Almost time for bed. Well, maybe being an old man isn’t going to be so bad after all.

#male body swap #age regression #age progression #old to young #male body theft #identity theft #young to old #weight gain #body switch

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romanarose · 1 year ago

Text

Why Did You Stop?

Steven Grant x Gn!reader

Romana's 1000 follower celebration

Join my tag list to be tagged in more content!

requested by @soonknight

"hi romana, congrats on 1000! you deserve it and I love your writing! I wanted to send you a request but I'm on a side blog and hate doing anons... I'd love to see a drabble with steven and "why'd you stop?" I'm just in the mood for some fluff tonight, idk. thanks!"

Summary: While locked out of your apartment, your neighbor, Steven, kindly let's you stay over at his flat that night.

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

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

You wake up to a pretty sight; Steven Grant, your neighbor, waking you.

And the blinding hall lights. Those were annoying.

"Oh, hey Steven." You smile at him sitting up.

"Everything okay? I'm sorry to wake you, love, but I was just worried."

"Y-yeah, yeah I'm fine. I just locked myself out of my apartment is all. Sleeping out here for tonight."

The look of horror on his face make you giggle. "Oh god, no! Why didn't you knock on my door? I'm glad I ordered some late dinner" He held up his take out. "C'mon, up you go" Steven began to hoist you off the couch, even picking up your coat that you were using as a blanket. "Can't believe you didn't come see me. Absolutely ridicules, as if I don't have a perfectly good apartment just across the hall for you to sleep in."

Steven continued to murmur about how you were always welcome over as he set you up on the couch you were all to familiar with after arguing with him over who was going on the bed. You simply refused, you would not disrupt the poor man's sleep. He needed it! Plus, he had a whole ruetine.

You'd been around Steven and his apartment enough that he felt he no longer had to hide the sand and chain and duck tape from you, all the times you came over to watch movie's this last month you saw his place just as it was, mess and quirks in all. You liked that he trusted you with it.

Soon enough, you found yourself bundled up on the couch with the neighbor you'd been sporting a crush on since forever, and as usual, your bodies were pressed up close with Steven laying on your lap. It wasn't long until he fell asleep on you, just as you suspected he would. Steven almost always did, needing his rest so badly, so you'd taken to lulling him to sleep yourself by gently scratching his scalp, massing your fingers through his beautiful thick curls. If he didn't wake by the end of the movie, you would try to make a quiet exit and leave him on the couch with a blanket. Tonight, you were hoping he'd wake eventually so you could send him to bed, but for now you took the time to simple admire him. He real was handsome, so, so handsome it was nearly painful, your heart aching for him, to touch him, to be with him... but if you told Steven that, would you lose moments like this? moments when you felt so comfortable, so safe, so at peace... you'd miss it all so much.

"Why'd you stop?" Steven's voice was soft and small below you, and it's then you realize his eyes open, watching you watching him...

"Oh! Oh sorry, Steven" You go back to scratching him, but he keeps looking up at you, his brown eyes large and gentle.

"You looked sad, darling. Anything wrong?"

"No, Steven, nothings wrong"

He didn't believe you. Steven sat up, his face close to yours. "No, somethings on your mind. What is it?"

Still, you hesitate. You could tell him... but you could also ruin it all. "Well... I was just thinking... and... and you can say no and I don't want this to ruin our friendship but... maybe I could take you on a date sometime?" You held your breath.

Steven's face was unreadable besides surprise. "You... you want to go on a date? With me?"

You couldn't help wringing your hands together. "Yes? I mean, if you want to. If you want to remain just friends then that's-" You were interrupted by the most unlikely of events. Steven Grant kissed you.

His lips on yours, you relax into him, opening your mouth slightly for the kiss to deepen just a bit. Nothing salacious, nothing raunchy, simply you and Steven feeling your passion for one another.

"Darling, I'd love to go on a date with you. But I'm taking you."

You smile at your sweet Steven, so beautiful and so kind. He was finally yours.

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

This is inspired by the time during winter break i got locked out of my dorm bc I lost my keys at work and a kind coworker drove me home and i was able to get into the building bc my student ID by not my dorm room. The RA n duty never answered my damn call. I was mad. lol. anyway i didn't let it get me down, i made due and slept on a couch and was greatful i had a warm place to sleep in the -30 temps but Fen actually gave me this idea for Stevenw hen I told them about it XD

thanks for everyone being patient on these, my anxiety ha been like. severe. i dont want to be dramatic but it's been bad bad bad all summer and im honestly struggling. I appriciate the patience and the understanding that i gotta do it when inspiration strikes and im feeling it.

@fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @whatthefishh @k-ra @eyelessfaces @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @campingwiththecharmings @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul @runa-falls @lokisv7ikrie @mikaelak

#steven grant #steven grant fluff #steven grant x reader #steven grant reader #steven grant is baby #steven grant my beloved #fluff #moon knight fluff #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight system #soft steven grant #steven grant is a ray of sunshine

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jgmartin · 1 year ago

Text

THE TALL THINGS ARE WATCHING

We can’t leave the house.

They’ve boarded up our doors and windows, started shooting people trying to break free. There are things in the streets. Tall things. I see their shadows sometimes as they run past the wooden boards. I hear the rumble of their feet.

I don’t know what they are. None of us do.

They cut our access to television and the internet when the lockdown began. They even took out the cell tower. Anne said they didn’t want us communicating with the outside world, telling them about what’s going on out here. I think she’s right.

It’s been two weeks since the men in suits came by. They said they worked for government intelligence and that they were looking for a terrorist. They didn’t strike me as government types, personally. They looked distracted. Spaced out. More like Scientologists than CIA agents, but then I’ve never met a Scientologist or a CIA agent, so who was I to tell the difference?

Either way, they said it would be over soon, and they sounded official. More importantly, they had guns. “We’ll need to search every household,” they explained. “We can’t have anybody leaving before we’ve cleared their property, so we’ll have to board you in.”

It made sense, I guess. In a twisted dystopian nightmare sort of way. It made sense all the way up until the end of the fourth night, when the Tall Things started roaming the streets. They were dressed in long raincoats. Hooded. The way they moved gave me the chills, all jerky and snapping, so I stayed away from the windows.

Anne didn’t mind though. She was fascinated by them. Her and our gun-nut neighbor, Old Ty, exchanged theories written on pieces of cardboard, holding them up to the glass of our windows. GOVERNMENT EXPERIMENT, she wrote on hers. ALIEN INVASION, he wrote on his.

At first, it seemed to just be a bit of innocent, morbid fun. Finding some humor in a bizarre situation. Then Anne watched one of the Tall Things kill somebody, and everything changed.

It was an elderly man in our cul-de-sac, Mister Douglas. Anne watched him open his door, hammer down the boards as one of the Tall Things walked by. He shouted at it. Told it to get over here so he could see just what kind of unholy bullshit his tax dollars were being used to fund.

Next thing you know, there’s sirens in the streets. Soldiers rushing his home. There’s a megaphone shouting at him to get back inside. All of it is useless. All of it happens far too late, because the moment Douglas starts yelling at the Tall Thing, it starts to twitch and jerk like it can’t control its own behavior. Like a predator hungry for a meal.

It snaps its head toward Douglas, then tears across his lawn and snaps him up in its long, spider-like hands. It lifts him off the ground. Then, he screams. He screams and he screams until the Tall Thing lowers the hood of its rain jacket, and then Douglas goes pale as a ghost. Silent.

According to Anne, that’s when the skin of his face started to bubble and pop. That’s when he started hissing out steam, smoking as his flesh sizzled beneath his clothes, as if he were boiling alive from the inside out. Next thing you know, he’s dripping onto the pavement. Dripping and dripping until there’s nothing left of him but a puddle of flesh and clothes.

Nobody tries to step in. Not any of the soldiers, not Anne, and not even Old Ty and all his guns. Everybody watches in stunned silence as the Tall Thing finishes its execution and saunters away.

The soldiers roam with them. The soldiers and the people in long white clothes. Anne says they’re lab coats, and the people are researchers studying the Tall Things as experiments, but I think they look more like robes– like clergymen. All of them wear helmets with tinted visors. It’s as though they don’t want to get a good look at the things.

After Mr. Douglas, more people on the block decided to make a break for it. Maybe they realized this was worse than they thought. Maybe they started wondering what the point of keeping us locked away like this was– were we food for these creatures? Were they trying to turn us into them?

None of us knew. All we could say for certain is that the killing didn’t stop with Mr. Douglas. I woke up one morning to see several of my neighbors shot dead in their yards, their lifeless eyes gazing back at me from the grass. Nobody came to pick them up. They were left there to rot, picked apart by birds and stray dogs.

Soon, gunshots were ringing out at all hours of the day. People wanted out, but the soldiers wouldn’t let them leave, and so the bodies began to pile up. Eventually I think Anne and I were the only two left alive in our cul-de-sac. Even Old Ty had seemed to vanish. Probably shot dead in his backyard.

I’d rarely known death in my life, and now the sheer volume of it was numbing me. I couldn’t process it. I didn’t know how. But then, almost out of the blue the government had a change of heart. Or maybe they just shifted tactics. Suddenly they began letting people leave.

I saw it first with a house at the very end of the road. I watched the woman who lived there break out with a baby tucked in her arm and a grade-schooler holding her hand. The three of them darted across their lawn, jumped over their father’s corpse and piled into their minivan on the street.

The entire time, a soldier and white-coat stood only meters away, quietly observing. It didn’t take long for the rumbling to begin– that telltale sound of approaching death, of one of the Tall Things coming to claim its prize. The van started up, backfiring a plume of exhaust into the air. I listened as the woman shrieked for joy, but I knew the joy would be short lived.

See, from my vantage point at the end of the lane, I saw something that she never could. The boot locked around her rear tire. The van rode forward as she pressed the gas, and then clunked to a stop. My heart broke. The look on her face, the desperation wasn’t for her– it was for her children in the back.

The rumble reached a crescendo, and in the blink of an eye a Tall Thing crashed into the van and knocked it over like a diecast toy. I couldn’t make out much beyond that. Nothing but the sound of the monster tearing into the roof of the van and pulling the crying children out one by one while their mother begged for mercy.

If I were a better, stupider man I may have kicked down my door and tried to save them, but I wasn’t. I was a coward. Instead, I fell to my living room carpet and cried. I laid there and listened as their flesh popped and sizzled, as their skin fell to the pavement in long, heavy drips.

It’s a sound I’ll never forget.

The next day, things got worse. The soldiers no longer cared about enforcing the lockdown or even keeping people safely indoors. Now they were breaking them out. Like hungry wolves, they tore down boarded-up doors and kicked in living room windows, dragging families out onto their lawns for slaughter. If the screams were horrible before, now they were unbearable. You couldn’t ignore them. Anne and I cranked our sound system to the max, but it only served as background static. The dying cut through everything.

That night we barely slept. Anne tossed and turned beside me, while I stared blankly at the ceiling fan above. There was an understanding between us. We had been abandoned. There was nobody coming to help us, nobody coming to arrest these monsters and save the day. We were alone.

How long until her and I were dragged out of our home? How long until we became the next experiment chained to our fence, waiting to be attacked by one of those creatures? Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Neither of us knew, and somehow that made it all the worse.

I woke up to sunlight peeking through our boarded-up bedroom window. Anne was missing. I looked all over the house for her before I found her note on the kitchen counter, scribbled quickly.

I know you’re afraid, the note read, but I have to leave. You might think we’ll make it through this, that once they’ve had their fill of guinea pigs they’ll let the rest of us go free, but I promise you they’ll come for us soon. This might be my last chance. Since you won’t come with me, I’m going alone. I wish I could have said a proper goodbye, but I know you’d try to stop me.

Love always,

- Anniebear

She left through the basement hatch. I know this because I spotted her corpse some five feet away through our kitchen window. She gazed back at me, a look of shock painted across her pale face, with a small red dot where the bullet pierced her skull. I couldn’t even muster the courage to step out and bury her. Instead the racoons and dogs took care of her, one piece at a time.

She was right, though. Eventually they did come for me.

It was over a week later. By then I didn’t have the will to resist. I waited patiently at the kitchen table, drunk with a glass of whiskey as soldiers and white-coats dragged me from the house. When I’d seen it happen to other people, it seemed to occur so quickly. Now, it happened in slow motion.

I heard every word from the soldier's mouth. Every command. First, he patted me down and ensured I was disarmed, then he told me this was all routine and nothing to worry about. Together they took me out into my yard. The white-coat asked me if I had lived a good life, if I had been a man of faith. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I was simply too drunk, or maybe I truly didn’t care anymore.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” the white-coat assured me. “You’ll be at peace once it’s over, brother.”

In the distance came the growing rumble of the monster’s feet. Of the Tall Thing coming to claim its bounty.

“How many more after this?” the soldier asked the white-coat, his hand painfully gripping my shoulder.

“Sixteen.”

“Then us, sister?”

“Then us.”

The rumbling deepened. The Tall Thing was getting closer, and soon my heart was beating in sync with its stampeding footfalls. Memories flashed in my mind. Memories of Anne, of my dead neighbors, of the mother who lived at the end of the road and her children, now puddles of flesh on the pavement. My hands became fists. Indignation and fury grew inside of me, stoked by whisky fumes.

“Why do this?” I growled. “Why not just put a bullet in my head?”

“Because we love you, brother,” said the white-coat. “You waited patiently. You had faith, and for that you will be rewarded with salvation. You will be raptured.”

The Tall Thing rounded the corner, its legs slapping against the ground in great strides. Its frame eclipsed the moon, casting a shadow across me and stealing the breath from my lungs. It slowed down as it reached my lawn, sauntering this way and that.

“What are they?” I whispered.

“The ones that made us,” the white-coat replied. “Those that gave us life.”

I shrank away as the Tall Thing neared, but the soldier shoved me forward. “Be strong, brother. Show it your conviction. We were brought to this planet long ago, but now our time is served and we’re finally going home. Don’t you want to go home?”

The Tall Thing reached up to its hood. As it did, the soldier’s grip loosened and both he and the white-coat stepped to the side, away from the creature’s view. I would not scream, I told myself. No matter what, I wouldn’t give these monsters the satisfaction of my terror.

It pulled back on its hood, and something grotesque looked down on me. It was as if a hundred different faces had been stitched together, fused into an abomination that seemed to smile from fifteen mouths. “We come in peace,” it said.

My teeth bit into my cheeks, clenching them closed. A whimper escaped me, a whimper and a groan as my stomach filled with a soup of boiling horror. I would not scream. No matter the pain-- I would not scream.

Its long, spindly hands gripped my face. It cocked its head to the side, a hundred different eyes blinking back at me. Then it tugged at the bottom of my mouth.

But I wasn’t going to let it have its way. I clenched my jaw, holding it closed. The creature blinked at me. Then it repositioned its grip.

Crack.

It snapped my jaw like cardboard. I roared in agony, my lower mouth hanging limply from my face. Tears fell from my eyes in a torrent.

“Shh,” it whispered, slipping a finger down my throat. I choked and gagged. It fished its finger around as a hundred different eyes rolled back, and fifteen mouths began muttering an alien language.

I struggled against it, pulling at its arm but it was useless. The monster was too strong. Then a gunshot rang out.

And another. The Tall Thing wheeled around, dropping me onto my lawn as the soldier began shouting into his radio. The next second, a bullet found the soldier in the head. The white-coat shrieked, fleeing around my fence as a round caught her in the shoulder. The Tall Thing shot up to its full height, standing level with the street lamps and then sprinted toward the shooter.

Toward Old Ty.

He’d set up a killzone on his roof, surrounded by rifles and ammo. He’d waited for a moonless night to do his business, and now he was raining lead onto the creature like a blizzard of death. “What are you waiting for?” he bellowed. “Get moving, dipshit!”

I did. I stole away, hiding in shrubs and behind sheds, watching as Tall Things came roaring down streets, jumping over houses and knocking over cars as they tried to reach Old Ty. He only lasted a few minutes. That’s when the shooting stopped, but it was enough time for me to get away.

Maybe enough time for others, too.

It took me three hours to hike through Debby Forest and make it to the next town, and once I did I breathed a sigh of relief. There weren’t any soldiers. No white-coats. Most importantly, there weren’t any Tall Things melting people in their clothes. Just quiet stillness, the thing early mornings were meant for.

I made my way to the sheriff’s department to blow the whistle on what was going on. To explain that people were being shot, that Tall Things were melting people on the street and that we needed to get our ass in gear and call in the National Guard– no, scratch that. We needed to call in fucking NATO.

But as I got to the door of the precinct I stopped. Something gleamed in the corner of my eye, catching my attention. It was there, at the edge of the curb. A puddle.

Strange thing was, it hadn’t rained in weeks.

#creepypasta #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writerslife #writers #writing #creative writing #writing community #original writing #horror #writblr #writer things #short fiction #short story #sci fi horror #jgmartin #the tall things

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foundtherightwords · 2 months ago

Text

As the Sun Will Rise - Chapter 2

Pairing: Grunauer (Overlord) x OFC, Beauty & the Beast retelling

Summary: After losing most of his unit in a disastrous D-Day mission, Derwin Grunauer returns to his hometown near Miami, body riddled with scars and heart heavy with guilt, only to find his neighbors shunning him due to his German name. He retreats into his family mansion and remains there, unwilling to rejoin the living, until the day Alba Reyes turns up at his door with a basket full of warm bread. As the daughter of a Cuban immigrant, Alba knows something of being an outsider, and when she offers to work for Derwin as his housekeeper, it is not only to pay off her father's debt to the Grunauers, but also because she feels some connection to the reclusive young man. When that connection develops into something more, they must overcome both the town's prejudice and their own doubts to find happiness.

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 4.5k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

"You went inside?" Beatriz asked as she flipped the sign in the bakery window from OPEN to CLOSED, before continuing sweeping the floor. In the back, Papi and Frank were setting out the dough for the next morning's loaves to rise. Alba surveyed the glass cases, making a mental note of what sold well and what didn't, and put the leftovers aside to be sold at cut rate the next day. Beatriz had been bursting with questions about the Grunauer place, but Alba had had no time to answer them—it was the lunch rush by the time she got back; she hadn't wanted to talk in front of Papi, and the afternoon had been quite busy as well. It was only now, at closing time, that she finally told Beatriz of what—and who—she'd found at the mansion deep in the swamp.

"Of course I went inside," she said. "I couldn't just leave the bread there!"

"Papi and Frank do."

"They have no respect for their own products."

"What's it like?" Beatriz said, eagerly. "Is it scary? Did you see any snakes or gators?"

"No, there's no snakes or gators. Just a big, friendly dog, and lots of empty rooms and a big staircase. I didn't see the second floor though." Alba couldn't find the words to describe to Beatriz how she'd really felt, walking down the corridor of the Grunauer place. The rooms she'd seen were filled with furniture, but they all had an air of disuse and neglect like the outside of the house. It had made her feel incredibly sad. The house was not a queen, as she'd first thought upon seeing it. It was a woman past her prime, alone and forgotten.

When she came into the kitchen, she'd felt even sadder. The stove looked like it never got lit, the pantry was empty, and so was the fridge—it contained only a pot of mustard and, inexplicably, a book.

She wondered how young Mr. Grunauer had managed to feed himself, and whether the bread and pastries they sent were his only sustenance.

"And what about Gruesome Grunauer?" continued Beatriz. "Is he really disfigured as people say?"

"Don't call him that. No, he's not. He does have a scar on his face, but it's not that bad." The moment they came face-to-face, all she could see were those bewilderingly familiar eyes. She had barely paid attention to the scar stretching across his left cheek like a spider web, and if she had, it was only to notice how it contrasted sadly with his boyish face, giving him a tragic look, like a cursed prince in a fairy tale. He had a scraggly beard too, though it was a pitiful attempt to cover up the scar or simply due to the neglect to shave, she didn't know. For some reason, the memory made her feel a little shy, so she didn't mention it to Beatriz.

Later that night, after Beatriz had gone to bed in their tiny bedroom in their tiny apartment above the bakery, Alba found her father sitting in his tattered armchair in the front space that doubled as the living room and dining room, smoking his pipe. She knew sometimes he would remain there all night, never making it to bed, just puffing on his pipe in silence and watching the smoke curl around the photos of her mother and Raf. Then, as the clock chimed four, he would get up with a little groan and go downstairs to start the ovens.

Seeing her linger at the door, he looked up. "Why aren't you in bed?" he asked.

Alba sat down on the armrest. "Papi, how much do we owe the Grunauers?" she asked.

Her father stopped puffing on the pipe. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Yes, I do. I'm twenty-four years old, Papi. I'm not a child anymore."

"I'm taking care of it."

Alba wrapped her arms around him, and put her head on his shoulder, as she'd often done when she was a little girl. "I want to help," she said. "How am I supposed to take over the bakery if you won't let me help?"

Papi sighed. "All right, we owe three thousand, if you must know. I borrowed seven thousand from Dr. Grunauer. Five years to pay it off, no interest. He was very kind for that. It was to buy the land, build the bakery, stock it. When the shop fell through, I only got four thousand back for everything." He ran a hand through his sparse, graying hair. "I was a fool. I should've held on to that land. If I sold it now to one of those returning GIs, we could've easily paid it off. But after Rafael—and your mother—I wasn't thinking straight."

"I know, Papi, I know." Alba pressed her lips to his temple, trying to kiss away the memory of that terrible time. They hadn't even been able to celebrate the end of the war. That had been the cruelest thing. When the whole world had been rejoicing, all they could think about was that the war had taken not only Raf but Ana as well. She'd collapsed upon seeing the two officers in their front room and never regained consciousness after that. She'd died just a week before VE-Day.

Three thousand dollars. The bakery earned about that much in a year, which meant they would have to forgo all expenses and not have any salary for a year, if they were to pay off the debt. Alba didn't mind—she'd never taken any pay for working at the bakery anyway—but it wouldn't be fair to Frank and Beatriz.

"We need a concrete plan to pay it off, Papi," she said. "The bakery can't turn a profit until we do, and we can't keep plying Mr. Grunauer with bread and pastries twice a week and hope the debt will magically go away. How many loaves of bread, how many boxes of pastries and croquettes is it going to take?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I've been to their house today. It's a big place, and Mr. Grunauer's there all alone. He needs someone to take care of it, a housekeeper." The idea had formed in her mind while she stood looking around that forlorn, empty kitchen, where the only thing that qualified as foodstuff was a bag of dog biscuits. "I think I can—"

Papi sat up straight and took the pipe out of his mouth. "No daughter of mine is going to be a servant," he said sternly.

"I won't be a servant," said Alba. "I'm going to be a housekeeper. It's no different than working in a hotel. He can pay me, or I can just work off the debt."

"But what about the bakery?" Papi asked, as she knew he would. She had an answer ready.

"Frank and Beatriz can do without me," she said. "Really, Papi, Beatriz is much better at it than you give her credit for. The customers are always happier and buy more when she's at the till."

Papi still looked skeptical, but Alba knew she was starting to win him over. "May I have your permission to at least talk to Mr. Grunauer about it?" she asked.

"What if the boy refuses?"

"Then we'll think of something else," she said stoutly.

Papi tapped the pipe into the ashtray, looking thoughtful. Finally, he nodded. "Yes, I suppose you can talk to Dr. Grunauer's son about it. The worst he can do is to turn us down."

Alba jumped up. "Thank you, Papi!"

"But I hate for you to bear this burden alone, daughter."

"It's not a burden, Papi," she said and gave him another kiss on the temple. "This is our bakery. I'm only doing my bit."

"Yes. Now get to bed, we have an early start tomorrow," he said, as if they didn't have an early start every single day, and patted her cheek affectionately.

***

The next morning, Alba got ready before Grant Gastin had a chance to show up. She packed some more pasteles, filled with guava and coconut, two loaves of fresh bread, some sliced ham and cheese, and a jar of pickles. Remembering the empty fridge with its lonely pot of mustard, she went back to the fridge and cut a big pat of butter as well. She was wrapping it in a square of wax paper when Frank came up to her.

"Mr. Reyes asked me to drive you over to the Grunauer place," he said. Despite having known them for seven years and repeated requests from Papi to call him by his first name, Frank still couldn't manage it. They treated him as family though. He'd started working at the bakery at fifteen, trained by Ana herself. He'd enlisted at the same time as Rafael, and they had prayed for his safe return as fervently as they'd prayed for Raf. At least with Frank, their prayer had been heard. After the war, he'd come back to the bakery, for which they were grateful. Being half-Seminole, Frank didn't exactly benefit from the GI Bill.

"Thank you, Frank, but I can manage," Alba said. "Why don't you help Beatriz at the front?"

A flush crept over Frank's open, honest face. Alba knew he'd been carrying a torch for her sister for years now, though Beatriz had never given him much thought. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Go on, spend some time with her, or she'll waste it all on the likes of Grant Gastin." She gave him a friendly shove and went around the back for her bike.

The day was warm, and despite the coolness of the swamp, Alba was drenched in sweat and her hair was frizzing like crazy by the time she arrived at the Grunauer place. She knocked on the front door. When there was no answer as usual, she tried the handle. It was locked.

Her heart sank. Could it be that young Mr. Grunauer was annoyed by her last visit and wanted to prevent another? Surely, she hadn't been that pushy, had she? Or—her stomach dropped with a horrible possibility—could something have happened to him? She banged on the door again.

"Mr. Grunauer? Hello? It's Alba, from the bakery. I brought you some things—hello?"

A dark shape reared up behind the glass, making her jump back in shock. Then she saw that it was the dog, his mouth wide open, tongue lolling in a cheerful smile. "Hola," Alba said, waving at him. "Can you get your master for me? Or can you open the door?"

The dog disappeared from the front door. Pressing her nose against the glass pane, Alba saw that he was pacing into the depths of the house and kept looking back, as if beckoning for her to follow. She picked up the basket and went around the back of the house. The porch here was covered with mosquito netting, forming a sunroom that looked out on an overgrown garden and the dark swamp beyond. A fan hung from the ceiling, its blade rotating lazily in the warm air.

The dog came out from inside the house. He stood on his hind legs and pushed at the latch of the door, lifting it. Alba laughed, delighted at his maneuver. The moment the door was open, the dog bounced through and started licking her hand, his tail rotating in greeting.

"What a clever sausage you are," she said, rubbing his ears while lingering at the door. Wouldn't Mr. Grunauer see this as trespassing?

Seeing her hesitate, the dog tugged at her wrist and pulled her deeper into the house. She hurried after him, barely having time to drop her basket in the kitchen. The dog led her down the corridor, into a library or study of sorts. It was gloomy and cluttered as the rest of the house, but this clutter was the result of living, rather than neglect—books were piled on tables and on the floor alongside dirty dishes, clothes were strewn haphazardly on the backs and arms of chairs, blankets and pillows heaped on the couch. It appeared Mr. Grunauer had been camping in this room and abandoned the rest of the house.

As Alba stepped further into the room, her eyes slowly adjusted to the dimness and landed on a figure lying prone on the rug by the window.

"¡Dios mío!" She rushed over to turn him on his back. "Mr. Grunauer! Are you all right?"

To her surprise, he wriggled out of her grasp and propped himself up on his elbow. "I am, as soon as you stop manhandling me!" he said, blinking up at her with what she was coming to recognize as his default expression—a scowl. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"

Alba became acutely aware of her sweaty face and disheveled hair. Self-consciously, she yanked her headscarf off and wiped it across her forehead.

"Your dog let me in," she said.

"My dog?" he repeated, incredulous. He glared at the dog, who was looking quite pleased with himself. "Some guard dog you are," he muttered. The dog, either used to his master's dark moods or simply not noticing it, wagged his tail happily and began nosing about the dirty dishes on the floor, searching for crumbs. There was not much there, save for a few remnants of days-old crackers, eggshells, and orange peels. Not an actual meal, just an assortment of food.

"Please don't yell at him," she said, fighting the urge to clean up those plates. "It's my fault, really. I asked him to get the door for me."

Grunauer shook his head, looking amused. "Yell at Otto? I spoke too loudly to him once and he sulked for two days. I don't think you have to worry about me yelling at him, Miss—"

"Reyes. Alba Reyes."

"Ah, yes. From the bakery." So he did remember. He got to his feet, with some difficulty, and vaguely tried to tidy up some papers but quickly put them down again. "What can I do for you?"

"Actually, it's more about what I can do for you, Mr. Grunauer." Alba launched into her prepared speech. "Perhaps you already knew, my father owes your father quite a bit of money. Three thousand dollars, to be exact. He's supposed to pay it off by the end of next year." Grunauer's slight frown suggested that this was news to him, and Alba wondered if she'd made a blunder in mentioning the debt. But he would learn of it sooner or later, and she didn't want to deceive him. "Now, we can't pay it all at once, but perhaps we can work out some sort of payment plan..."

He nodded slowly, still looking a bit confused. Alba plunged on. "This is a big place. You need help. I can come here and work for you as a housekeeper, and, in exchange, you can deduct the payment from my salary."

Understanding dawned on his face, quickly followed by something else—embarrassment? Discomfort? Anger? Perhaps he thought they were trying to scam him.

"You will decide my salary, of course," she said quickly. "Perhaps I can try, for a week or so, and you can figure out how much to pay me? We can have a lawyer draw up a promissory note, everything will be perfectly aboveboard—"

"Miss Reyes," he interrupted. "I don't need help."

She deflated. But a Reyes never gave up that easily, so she put on a display that combined her most competent face with an approximation of Beatriz's charm. "Sure you do," she said, trying to smile. "I can cook, clean, do the shopping for you, take care of Otto..." At the sound of his name, the dog looked up and gave his tail a wag.

Grunauer shook his head, cutting her off. "I can't pay you."

"You don't have to pay me, that's the point," Alba said patiently. "Let's say we agree that my work is worth thirty dollars a week"—big hotels in Miami Beach were paying housekeepers forty and fifty dollars a week, so she figured thirty would be a reasonable start—"so every week, you'll deduct thirty dollars from our debt." At that rate, it would take two years for her to pay off three thousand dollars, but the bakery and its earnings would be safe. And it would make her feel like she was doing something, which Alba vastly preferred to just sitting and waiting for the debt collector to show up.

When Grunauer made no reply, she tried another tactic. "This is a fine house, Mr. Grunauer. Don't you want it cleaned and put to order, so you can use all the rooms instead of holing up in here?"

"I'm perfectly fine as I am, thank you very much," he said stiffly.

Alba let out an exasperated sigh. "Mr. Grunauer, no offense, but I've met you twice, and both times I found you on the floor."

It was the wrong thing to say. Grunauer's face twisted, the gouges of the scar deepening on his cheek. "I'm not a cripple!" he shouted.

"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant—" began Alba, but it was too late. He grabbed her arm, not hard, but not gently either, and hauled her out of the room.

"Thank you for your concern, Miss Reyes, but I cannot afford a housekeeper at the moment," he said.

"But—Mr. Grunauer—" Alba started to protest, without knowing what she was going to say.

Something on her face must have made him take pity on her, for he added, in a softer voice, "As for your debt, I'll see if we can come up with a reasonable payment plan. I'll let you know." He all but shoved her into the corridor and shut the door in her face.

Alba spluttered in frustration. She had no choice but to leave. Coming back through the kitchen, she saw her basket still on the table and heaved a long sigh. Well, she might as well unpack the food. If she left it there, who knew what Grunauer would do? Eat it straight out of the basket, she supposed.

She put the perishables into the fridge. The book was still there, a book of poetry by someone named e.e. cummings—Alba briefly wondered what Mr. Cummings had against capitalization— but the guava pastries were gone. And then, as her eyes landed on the pot of mustard, an idea occurred to her. If she couldn't convince him with words, perhaps there was another way...

She took a loaf of bread out of the box, sliced it, slathered both halves with butter and mustard, and layered it with the ham, cheese, and pickles. There was no sandwich press, but she found a frying pan and a heavy cast-iron pot that would do the trick. The stove looked so rusty that she was afraid it wouldn't turn on at all, but turn on it did, and soon the enticing smells of melted butter and cheese were filling the kitchen. She cut the warm sandwich in half, put it on a plate, and marched down the corridor again.

"What are you still doing here?!" Grunauer snarled as he wrenched open the door in response to her knock. "Leave, or I'll have you arrested for—" He stopped short at the sight of the plate in her hand.

"Tell me, Mr. Grunauer, would you rather be eating something like this or subsist on crackers and day-old coffee? Because this is what you'd get with me, and more. Think about it. You know where to find me. Good day." She shoved the plate into his hand, turned on her heel, and left.

***

Long after Miss Reyes's dark curls had disappeared down the corridor, bobbing indignantly with each of her steps, Derwin still stood where he was, with the plate of sandwich in his hand. He wasn't quite sure what had just transpired. And then, because the smell was so tempting, and because Otto was eyeing the plate rather impatiently, Derwin ate the sandwich. It was very good. She'd toasted it on both sides, turning the bread crisp and melting the cheese. It reminded him of the grilled cheese sandwiches his father used to make when Derwin was little, only better. Poor old Dad. After Mom passed away, Dad had tried his best, but he could never quite manage the stove, and when Derwin was home from boarding school, they'd survived mostly on sandwiches and canned stuff. Grilled cheese and tomato soup was one of Dad's better attempts at cooking.

Once the plate was polished off—Otto got the last bite, of course—Derwin went to the bureau where his father's papers were kept and started digging through the drawers. Soon he found a promissory note for seven thousand dollars, made to a Mr. Mauricio Reyes, on March 1943, with a maturity date of five years and no interest. A very generous loan. But then again, his father had always been generous to a fault. Another note attached to this document stated that a payment of four thousand dollars had been made in November 1945. His father had passed away a month after that, while Derwin himself was still in Bay Pines.

Three thousand dollars. Enough for him to start over somewhere else, away from this place. He could go back to school, finish that degree he'd put on hold when he enlisted, get a job. Actually rejoin the living.

But deep down inside, Derwin knew there was nowhere for him to go. There was no place where he could stop seeing the screaming faces of his fellow soldiers whenever he closed his eyes, stop feeling the heat of that exploding C-47, stop smelling the stench of burning fuel and gunpowder and blood in that French village just off the coast of Normandy. During the day, he could forget those memories by losing himself in books, but at night, they always came back in full force. There was no place where he could escape them. No place where he could escape himself.

At least here, nobody would bother him. Nobody, except for a bewildering, maddening young woman.

So if he insisted on staying here, would it be so bad to have someone come here and take care of the house for him? He had to admit, he'd let things go. His leg didn't allow him to move around much, and after a while, he no longer cared. He'd been going upstairs only to sleep, and after his latest fall the day before, he'd set up camp in the study and decided it was good enough. But now, stung by Miss Reyes's words, Derwin looked around the room and noticed, for the first time, the clutter and squalor of the place. How did he let it come to this? He was sure he could see a cockroach shuffling amongst the plates on the floor.

But the idea of another person in the house, in his space, gave him pause. His parents had been a retiring sort, and when he was a boy, it had been just the three of them. He'd missed that precious solitude when his mother died and his father sent him to boarding school. In the army, and later, in the hospitals, there had always been other people around. He'd only gotten his solitary life back since he came home; he wasn't sure if he was ready to share that with anyone, no matter how good her sandwich was... or how pretty her eyes were.

Perhaps he could deal with the mess himself. He bent down awkwardly on one knee, picked up a few plates, and stacked them together. Then, balancing the stack in one hand and holding his cane in the other, he hobbled into the kitchen.

He almost made it. At the kitchen door, he picked up his cane to push the door open, and the plates slid out of his hand and fell to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. Furious, he threw his cane away. It clattered over the shards of broken china. He flung himself down next to it and put his head against the wall in despair. He couldn't even manage to clean up a few plates. Pathetic. Useless.

Otto came over and plopped down by his side. Derwin thought he could see some sympathy in the dog's eyes. "I guess I shouldn't have been so rude to Miss Reyes, right?" he said to the dog.

Otto answered with a soft woof, telling Derwin all he needed to know.

With a sigh, Derwin dragged himself up and went into the kitchen for a broom and dustpan. Miss Reyes had cleaned up—the stove had been scrubbed, and the pot and pan she used to toast the sandwich were drying on the rack. When he opened the fridge, however, he found e.e. cummings' Collected Poems still where he'd left it. Somehow, the sight of that book in the fridge solidified Derwin's decision. Miss Reyes would not upset his life. She would straighten things up wherever necessary and leave the rest untouched, and that was exactly what he needed.

But nobody turned up the next day or the day after that. Derwin thought about calling the bakery, and then he realized he didn't know their phone number. He could call the property manager and find out, but that was one phone call too many for him to handle.

It wasn't until Sunday that Derwin heard a knock on the front door.

"I'm coming!" he called out, limping to the door as fast as his leg and his cane allowed. "Wait!"

He pulled the door open. A young man, perhaps a couple of years younger than Derwin himself, with the deep-set eyes and straight black hair of a Seminole, was dropping a basket of bread onto the swing on the front porch.

"Who are you?" Derwin asked. "Where's Miss Reyes?"

"I'm Frank Howard," said the young man, looking startled. Clearly he hadn't expected anyone to answer the door. "I work at the bakery. Miss Reyes—Alba—asked me to bring you these. They're at church today."

"Oh." Derwin felt a strange sense of disappointment. Next to him, Otto looked crestfallen as well. "In that case, could you please let her know that I accept her offer, and that she can start on Monday?"

Frank looked confused but promised to deliver the message.

As he watched the bakery's truck rumble down the drive, Derwin let out a sigh. He'd been hoping to tell Miss Reyes herself. It was absurd, of course. It made no difference, giving the message to Frank. But that slight disappointment told Derwin that he'd made the right decision in accepting Miss Reyes's proposal. He'd never looked forward to anything as he did to seeing her again. Perhaps he could let her into his life after all.

Chapter 3

Taglist: @kitkat80 (as always, if you want to be tagged, just let me know!)

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #grunauer #grunauer overlord #overlord 2018 #grunauer x ofc

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ciaomarie · 7 months ago

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Neighbor Series: Ch. 4 Part 2

A Delicate Ecosystem

Part 2: Carmen is obviously down bad, but does Sydney feel as deeply? Is her career or love most important?

I think this might be the last in this series.

The rest of the day and night went smoothly. Sydney tried to dismiss that stupid conversation with Richie from her mind. Carmy was the same as ever. She supposed he didn't have "the talk" with him. Typical that Rich thought it was her responsibility to control the actions of a grown man.

The next day Sydney walked past Marcus and Fak huddled in conversation and thought she heard her name. She shrugged it off, put away her stuff in her locker and joined them.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt. Marcus can we talk for minute?"

Fak who usually had something quirky to say, just waved at her and scuddled away.

"Yeah, anything wrong?" Marcus asked with an odd, no an irritated look, on his face.

"Well, yes. Our bread supplier isn't going to come through for the rest of the week. A death in the family. Carmy wanted me let you know that we'll have to make it in-house today, but we have a backup ready for tommorrow."

"Got it."

"Okay, let me know if you need anything."

"I said I got it."

Sydney was thrown off by his tone. Yes, Marcus had asked her out several months ago and it was weird for that night. Afterwards, they'd moved on and were back on good terms. She racked her brain trying to think if she'd done or said something recently to offend him.

"Um, is there a problem?"

"Nope."

Marcus's face was now unreadable and he walked away to his station. It was eerie, but Sydney had many other things to do so she shelved it for now.

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The following day Carmy stood behind the restaurant for a his "smoke" break right before nightly service. He quit cigarettes a shortly after The Bear opened because he had caught pneumonia and missed two days of work. His doctor told him that she'd seen a lot of pneumonia cases in her elderly and smoking patients that season. So now he chewed Nicorette and pretended that it was just as satisfying. While he stood there enjoying the solitude, Anna, a new hostess came out and began smoking her vape pen. She had a one of those warm, generic voices that was perfect for customer service, but she could instantly switch to a cloying Kardashian-esque accent. She used it whenever she could talk to Carmy alone. However, today she didn't immediately begin speaking when she saw him. He decided to not waste the chance to escape. Just as he was about to go back in Anna spoke up.

"So…do you like know of any nice apartments around here?"

Carmy was facing the door so he could roll his eyes, without her seeing. Then he turned around trying to look neutral.

"Uh, no. Well, I like mine. It's 10 minutes from here, but there's almost never anything available."

"Oh, really? Didn't Sydney just get a place there? Or did she move in with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I just thought I heard like you were maybe together?"

Anna kept her voice light, but she seemed nervous. One hand was gripping her vape pen and the other was twirling her long brown hair.

"No, we don't live together. What does that have to do with you finding an apartment?"

"No? Well, I didn't think so. Sydney is great and all, but she's…like you could like date anyone here, you know?" Anna replied choosing to ignore his question.

Carmen couldn't believe he was having this conversation. This time he couldn't help rolling his eyes in her face. The unmitigated gall of this women to talk about Sydney and to approach her employer in this manner.

"Anna, my dating life is not up for discussion."

Carmen wanted to say more, but he knew that it would be best to discuss it with Natalie first. She came from corporate America and knew the proper HR way of dealing this stuff.

"Oh, oh yeah. Like, okay. Um, I better get back" Anna stammered, blushing and darted through the door.

That night Carmy was on alert. It was one minor incident, but he had to suppress his compulsion to spiral with doubt and worry that Sydney would be hurt because of him. He hadn't really thought much about how others might view their potential relationship. He probably blocked it out because there was already so much to worry about. Also, their kitchen "mind-meld" flow was getting better all the time. It was exhilarating how they had become more and more attuned with one another during service. Often while working side by side they would hand each other the very thing they needed without even having to speak, much less look at each other. They could plate a dish together faster than a pit crew could replace a tire. With a glance Carmy knew when Sydney needed a break on their most insane evenings. He'd just squeeze her shoulder and she'd move so he could take over for a quick five. He did the same for others though.

However, what happened the other night might have raised some eyebrows. He was asked to greet a congressperson who was dining there and he beckoned for Sydney to join him. Before they went out he grabbed a towel to pat her dewy forehead, retied her chef's coat and smoothed it down like he was her personal valet. This was in front of the entire kitchen. He hadn't meant to do anything that would make Sydney a target. His intention was to support her, not romance her at work. Of' course there were slip ups. He just hoped the conversation with Anna was a one-off. To be on the safe side during service he tried not to do anything extra with her besides their usual telepathic routine. Sydney followed his lead avoiding making unnecessary remarks or touching him.

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

Later he walked her home. They were silent at first, their stride in perfect harmony.

Carmy cleared his throat.

"Sydney, has anyone been treating you differently?"

Sydney paused in surprise for a second, but then she answered "Am I that easy to read?"

Carmen was now very concerned.

"No, it's just that I had a weird conversation before service with one of the front staff."

"Was it about us?"

"Yeah, has anyone said anything to you?"

"Yes, Richie did. A couple others are just being a little icy this week. It's no big deal."

Carmen took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.

"What did Richie say?"

"Oh, Mr. Richard had a speech. He wanted to make sure I kept the "shop" closed until you and Nat could pay back Cicero. He's afraid I'll mess up the ecosystem. "

Carmy's froze for a second, then he blushed scarlet from the mention of him getting anywhere near Sydney's "shop" and from Richie's audacity to address Syd instead of him.

She continued.

"At the time I thought he was just being Richie. Now, I don't know. I don't want to mess anything up for you, for us. The Bear is so new and we are on track to paying off the debt and maybe even getting a star."

"Sydney. We make an excellent team and nothing that we've done or will do together outside of The Bear will change it. I promise you, that I won't let it change. Your dreams are first priority."

"So are yours, Carmy."

Carmy's focused on his breathe for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears. His dream was doing this with HER. He meant it when he said he wouldn't even want to do it without her. Each day together wove a new thread from his heart to hers, but he wouldn't force it on her.

"Sydney, I like you. More than anyone I've ever…."

He stopped unsure if she was ready to hear how deep his feelings ran.

"But I understand if you want me to back off. Whatever you decide I will talk to them and fix this. You deserve nothing but respect."

They reached the front of their building and Sydney turned to face him. He was visibly trembling. Tenderness for him surged from her heart. Carmen was the most sincere man she'd ever met. He couldn't fake happiness, indifference, or confidence unless that was how he truly felt. Past the anxiety, occasional moodiness, and temper, at his core she saw someone who desperately desired to serve and to be understood.

He stood there defenseless.

She put a hand over his heart as if to speak to it.

"No, don't back off. I don't care what any of them think as long as we're good."

Carmy breathed again, took her hand in his and kissed her palm, nuzzling it against his cheek.

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Sydney lay in bed that night thinking. She knew down to her bones that her foundation was stronger than his. It was not due to any fault of his own. Her home had been filled with safety and love. It was her nature to be a perfectionist, but even when she failed she knew that she had intrinsic value as a person. What she lacked that Carmen had was the courage to be vulnerable. He was open to her about Mikey within the first few weeks of their meeting despite not knowing how she would respond. This and his consistent effort to know her, drew her in despite the chaos of early days at The Beef. She knew that he would actually listen and give her an opportunity to grow. There was another intangible factor, which scared and thrilled Sydney. When she often found him gazing at her, there was a feeling that he was not only moved by her beauty, but for who she was. It reminded of her of how her father looked at her mom, even when she was sick. It was one of her few memories that hadn't faded. She also knew there were no strings attached when he promoted her to CDC, but her heart demanded more with each passing day. She wanted to be Carmen's refuge and release in every way. This knowing was overwhelming and she was grateful that he moved slowly despite the hunger in his eyes.

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The next day Natalie was working on-site when Carmen came into her office and closed the door.

"Hey Carm, how are you?"

"I'm good. Sorry, I didn't respond to your text last night. Baby PJ looked very cute in his White Sox outfit"

"Well, at least send a smiley face or something! But what's up?"

"So, I don't know if you've noticed but I'm interested in someone who works here."

"Oh, bro I know…so are you and Sydney official?"

Carmy brushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head.

"Were you never going to say anything?" he asked.

"The best thing a sister can do is stay out of it. It's brothers who get involved with their sister's romantic choices. Thank God, you couldn't run off Pete."

"Okay. No, we're not rushing into anything. So far, she allows me to walk her to and from work. And we talk everyday."

Natalie clutched her chest and sank down further into her chair.

"She allows you to…I CAN'T! I had no idea my baby brother was this sweet!"

"SUGAR, the point of me bringing this up is that some of the staff have been going behind my back to talk to her, icing her out, and there's been a rumor that we live together. I won't have it! Anyways, I figure you know the corporate way to handle it."

"Okay, we were going to discuss health insurance options for the next enrollment period during family service, but I can slide in a talk about relational professionalism."

"Thank you."

Natalie sighed and squeezed Carmy's hand.

"She allows you to walk with her! Oh, Pete is going to melt."

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For old time's sake Sydney prepared Mikey's spaghetti recipe for family service. Carmy saved her a seat and she sat down next to him feeling Anna's bitter glances and Richie's disapproval. Marcus ignored them. As they ate Natalie gave the insurance presentation and then her politically correct professionalism talk. She took care to make it not obviously about Sydney and Carm. When she was done and people started to file out, Carmen asked for the original Beef staff to remain behind. They took their seats again looking intrigued.

He moved to stand at the head of the table.

"Alright, great…Okay. So I asked Natalie to give that talk. And thank you Nat, but I have something I need to say. too"

"So, You've all been here a long time. Before I came you already had each other's backs and then I took over. It was an adjustment. Then Sydney came and I had a partner from my world. There more changes but somehow we found a way to work together. Then we found the money and we started this. You all choosing to stay and gain new skills, means so much me and I know it does to you too.

The Bear is a special place because it's a family business. And not just because of Natalie and I, but it's all of you too. The thing is we got to have each other's backs. It's not enough to to get through service, get the reviews, a star, whatever, but we got to respect each other. You know that without Sydney and Natalie giving it everything they had during the reno, none of this would have happened. Where we're sitting would be a parking lot or a Dunkin's. Anyways, I'm disappointed that some in here saw everything Sydney did to help get us here and they're giving her crap because I like her. In HERE I respect all of you, everyone is paid fairly, given opportunities, and I care about you…your lives. She didn't do anything, but her job and she deserves your respect. Out THERE I hope to spend as much time with her as she'll let me. But in HERE we're a business and we're a family.

The silence was palpable. Sydney's eyes never left Carmy's face while he spoke and when he took the courage to meet them, he saw admiration there and her beautiful smile.

Tina broke the heavy mood.

"So, Jeff. Are y'all together? Are we what they a call a "mom and pop" now?"

Carmy grinned, still looking at Sydney.

"I'm working on it."

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #sydney adamu #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #fan fiction #syd adamu #syd x carmen #syd x carmy #mushy stuff #fan fic

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jaycewrites-192000 · 2 years ago

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Heartbreak

Summery: Little sis experiences her first heartbreak and doesn't come home. How will the twins react?

Paring(s): Platonic!Nahoya Kawata x Platonic!Reader x Platonic!Souya Kawata

Rating: SFW

Warning(s): Angst(happy ending), harsh language, two-year timeskip, no one dies

While the Kawata twins were protective of their younger sister, they could not control her every move. They had no real say in what their sister did in her personal life, especially when it came to her romantic relationships. But that doesn't mean they wouldn't step in whenever they felt that their sister was being taken advantage of.

However...when they did eventually have to step in, they wouldn't have until it was too late...

"A date?"

A tall male tilts his head, his scarred lip slightly pouts in concentration. "You actually let your sister go out with someone?" He laughs. The young man from across the counter readjusted his hair net, already feeling a headache coming along from how tightly it pressed his blue curls to his scalp. "Hakkai, I can't keep my sister from dating someone." He turns to meet his eyes. "But I'll kill him if he hurts her." His voice deepened into a more intimidating one.

"Hey! Hey! You're starting to sound like me, little bro!" His older twin spoke up from one of the tables he was cleaning. "W-well, I think it's great that you're so trusting of her." A blonde male said nervously. "Of course we trust her Takemitchy." Said the younger twin. "But that don't mean we trust who she's with."

"Damn right!" His brother yelled. "I can tell that motherfucker got tricks!"

"Smiley, don't scare the costumers." The blue hair twin says calmly. "But yeah, I agree."

"Then uh...why not stop her?" Takemichi asks. "If you have a feeling he might pull something?" The younger twin leans on the table. "We tried. Then sis got all up in our faces about it." He explains. "But that's what happens when you fall in love with someone. You'll defend them to your last breath, even if they treat you like shit. As her brothers, we can only do so much. She's our family, but family can break apart when it comes to stuff like this. So we're taking a step back...for now."

"Angry, you want him dead just as much as I do, yeah?" Smiley asks. Angry nods. "But we promised not to get involved." Angry further explains. "Not until we're really sure about our suspicions. We might end up doing more damage."

And that's how it was from the start, the twins agreed to stay out of it. They would only get involved if their sister told them just what was happening, and if not that, if they saw it happen for themselves...

Later that night, the twins were awaiting their sister's return. She should have been back hours ago, it didn't help that she didn't so much as call or text either one of them. Now their frustrations turned into worry and concern.

"Still nothing." Angry said as he moved his phone away from his ear. "You?" Smiley shook his head, his grin haven faltered. "Nope. Looks like we're gonna have to take matters into our own hands." Angry nods, the hand that he held his phone shook as he placed it back into his pocket. Without another word, the twins left their home, and hurried onto their bikes. They raced off into the night, in search of their little sister.

The very first stop, was Y/n's boyfriend's home. Smiley and Angry didn't need to find out from her just where he lived. They knew it as soon as they started dating, because of course they did. Why wouldn't they? As overbearing as it was, they were grateful for their paranoia and suspicions in the long run.

The two hopped off their bikes and walked up to the entrance of the house, Smiley banged on the door. "Tanaka! Get your ass out here!" He yelled, not caring if he was disturbing the neighbors. After a minute, the two could hear the door unlocking, opening to reveal Y/n's boyfriend, Tanaka.

"Oh shit-"

"Yeah you better believe oh shit." Smiley grabbed his shirt collar and dragged him as he walked, Angry was quick to follow. "Hey man! Wait a second! Just wait-" Smiley threw Tanaka up against a near by wall, still clutching onto his shirt. "Where the fuck is our sister? Huh!?" Smiley yelled, grinning, teeth bared like a feral animal.

"And I suggest you answer quick, motherfucker. My little bro is getting antsy." Angry glared at Tanaka, tears brimming his bright blue eyes. Tanaka raised his shaking hands defensively. "I-I don't know man!"

"Wrong answer!" Smiley delivered a strong left hook to Tanaka's face. Blood dribbled down his face from the sudden impact, Tanaka whimpered in pain. "Last chance! Where the fuck is she!?"

"L-Like I said!" Tanaka whimpered. "I don't know! She left after I..."

"After you what!?" Smiley growled. "I-I broke up with her! That's all! I swear! I don't know where she went! I swear!" Smiley yanked Tanaka off the wall and threw him down to the ground. Tanaka groaned as he hit the hard ground, he curled in on himself, incase Smiley continued to beat him.

Instead Smiley stormed back to his bike. But before Tanaka could rest, Angry crouched down to his level, in a soft voice he said. "If I catch you around her again...I fucking kill you. Got it?" Tanaka nods furiously, blocking his face from any blows that he might receive from the blue hair demon.

The twins head back home, hoping that in the time they were gone, their sister would have return. To their surprise, they saw their leader leaning against his bike in front of the house. The twins parked before approaching him. "Mikey-Kun? Why are you here?" Angry asks. Mikey smiles. "Just dropping off your little sis."

"She's here!?" Smiley gaped. "Yeah, Emma brought her back to our place. She looked in pretty bad shape. Something happen?" Mikey asks. "Her piece of shit boyfriend dumped her." Angry answers.

"Yikes. I suck at relationships, good thing she didn't tell me anything about it. I would be no help at all." Mikey laughed.

"Thanks for bringing her back. We owe you big time." Said Smiley.

"Don't think nothing of it. Just helping out some friends." Mikey got on his bike. "I'd go easy on her, see you around." He said before driving off. The twins looked at each other before heading inside.

They walked to their sister's room and knocked on the door. From inside came a faint, "come in". The twins walked inside her room, their sister was laying in bed, covers up over her head. Angry was the first to speak. "Hey, you alright sis?" He asked softly. There was no answer. "We know what happened." Smiley said next. "Just so you know, we took care of the bastard."

Y/n poked her head out from the covers. "You kicked his ass for me?" She asked. The twins nodded. "Damn right. He broke our sister's heart, he's lucky we didn't kill the fucker." Said Smiley. Y/n smiled slightly. "Thanks you two. I just...I just don't know what I did wrong. I was so good to him. And he just dumps me out of nowhere!"

"Asshole." Smiley muttered. "He doesn't deserve you sis. You are way too good for the likes of him. He was a pussy anyway."

"Smiley's right. He didn't even put up a fight. He practically pissed himself when he saw us." Said Angry. Y/n chuckled. "He did, huh?" She sat up and wiped her teary eyes. "He never was much of a fighter."

"He couldn't protect you while we weren't around. You're better off." Said Smiley. "Eh." Y/n shrugs. "I got you two to protect me until I find someone who actually has some balls." That made the older twin laugh. "We'll make sure you pick the right guy next time." Said Angry.

"Oh no. You guys will chase everyone I meet away! I'll make that choice then let you guys make your examinations afterwards."

"You won't like our opinion either way." Angry muttered. "Hey as long as you don't kill them." Says Y/n with another shrug. "No promises." Smiley tells her.

"How about we take you to your favorite arcade? Will that cheer you up?" Angry asks. Y/n nods her head. "It would." Smiley pats her head. "Alright then, first thing tomorrow we'll go. Until then, get some sleep." The twins started to walk out of the room.

"Hey, you guys?"

The twins turned back.

"Thank you, I don't know what I'd do without you both."

The twins both smiled. "Anytime sis."

#nahoya kawata x reader #nahoya kawata #souya kawata x reader #souya kawata #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader

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fanficforlife · 2 years ago

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Chapter Three

A strangled cry left your lips as you shot up, wide awake. Your chest heaved, and sweat covered your palms. It was just a dream. He-he's not here. I'm okay...I'm... You got out of bed, wrapped the quilt around you, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Even though it was only twenty after four in the morning.

After pouring coffee into a mug, you went out onto the porch and sat down on the stairs. Tears started streaming from your eyes as the dream played through your mind.

"Violet?" Your hands frantically dried your face while John's oldest son sat down next to you. "What's wrong? And, don't even think about saying nothing because I saw you crying."

You chewed on your lower lip.

"Is it your neighbors? Your good-for-nothing piece of shit ex?"

"My...my ex...I just had a bad dream, that's all. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You sitting out here before the suns even up, crying because of a nightmare you had about your ex, isn't fine. He put you through what I'm guessing was hell because you had to run away to get away from him. you've been living in motels, moving to a new one every few days scared that any minute he could burst through the door." You nodded and he reached for your hand. "I'm a pretty good listener and pretty good at keeping secrets. It might help if you unpack some of that baggage, whether it's everything or just about the nightmare."

You chewed on your lower lip before finally nodding. "The nightmare was a memory." After taking a shaky breath you continued. "A few days after we moved into our new house, we met a couple of his friends for drinks, two guys that he grew up with and work with, Tom and Sam. Halfway through the night, they were waiting for the waitress to come around to get them drink number six or whatever it was. It was really busy so I just went up to the bar to get them. When I was up there a guy come over and started flirting with me. I told him I was engaged. He said he was a lucky guy and smiled, I smiled back to be polite, got the drinks, and went back to the table. The rest of the time there was good and we went home." Your fingers started playing with the blanket as your eyes glazed over, taking you back to the past.

"Come here," Nick demanded after appearing in the closet doorway.

You finally got home and all you wanted to do was go to bed. "I want to change first then-"

“No. Now," he grabbed your arm and roughly yanked you down to the basement. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

“Find out what?" You asked as you tried to pry his hand off of you.

"About you flirting with him!"

Fear filled you when you saw the man who had flirted with you at the bar, on his knees and being held in place by your fiancé's friends. "N-Nick, what-"

“You made plans to see him next time I'm off work, didn't you?!"

“No, I didn't." You whimpered when he grabbed your arms, towering over you with a psychotic stare. "I told him I was engaged and came back to the table."

“Don't fucking lie to me! I saw you smile at him before you left."

“She was being polite, that's all." The man who flirted with you insisted.

“She shouldn't have fucking talked to you in the first place." Nick spat at the man before his fiery gaze came back to you. "I thought you would know that by now."

“Nick, I-I'm sorry. I-"

The back of his hand connected with your cheek before he spun you around. One of his arms wrapped around you, securing your arms against your sides while he crushed you against him. His chest confirmed to your back, his breath hot on your neck. "You should be sorry because now you're going to watch him die."

“What the fuck?!" The innocent man on his knees tried to get free. "All I did was ask if I could buy her a drink?"

“You should have looked at her finger first. The ring that cost a fortune and takes up practically her whole ring finger." Nick nodded to his friends. After they put the scared man's hands behind his head, Tom held them there while Sam went to stand in front of him. His fist connected with the man's face.

“No!"

“Sam." Your fiancé pushed you into his friend, who took over holding you prisoner. When Sam secured you in his arms Nick went and stood in front of the man who had blood trickling from a cut on his lip. "It's time for me to make you pay for trying to take what's mine." His fists took over for his friend. He kept hitting the man who did nothing wrong, again and again.

“Nick, stop! You're going to kill him. Stop! Stop!"

Nick turned around and stalked towards you, gripping your chin firmly in his blood-spattered hand. "Keep your fucking voice down. We don't want the neighbors to get suspicious." He let out a chuckle. "Not that it would matter because there are three cops here already."

“Just let him go. Nick, please." You begged as tears flowed from your eyes.

“He should have paid attention so he knew you already belonged to someone." His fingers dug into your jaw, "now keep your pretty little mouth shut." After letting your chin go he resumed his attack on the man who was now lying on the floor.

“No. No. No. No." Sobs cut off your pleas while Nick went from using his fists to his feet.

Fifteen minutes later, Nick stood over the man he had just killed with a triumphant grin while you crumpled to the floor. Your sobs had stopped, giving way to silent tears. You sat there staring at the growing pool of blood in shock. You didn't notice when Sam and Tom wrapped the body in a tarp and carried it upstairs or when Nick left, returning with a bucket of water and a rag.

“Now," Nick's hand fisted your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look at him, "clean up this mess."

“W-what?"

“Clean his blood off of the floor. I'm not going to tell you again."

With trembling hands, you did what he said. By the time you were done, your hands were stained red. You pushed yourself up off your knees and went to walk towards the stairs but your fiancé stepped in front of you.

“What are you doing?"

The shock had worn off leaving you angry and disgusted. "You killed him! All he did was ask to buy me a drink and I said I was engaged, that was it. And, you killed him for it! You're insane! I can't-I can't do this-be with you."

He grabbed your upper arms and slammed you against the wall. "I killed him because he tried to take what's mine."

Let me go." You tried to hit him, kick him, you pushed against him, trying to get free. When none of that worked, you tried to go for his face but couldn't reach it. Your fingers clawed at whatever they could and you managed to scratch his neck.

“Bitch." He seethed before backhanding you, the hard blow sending you to the floor. Before you could get away, he crouched over you and his hands went for your neck. Your foot connected with his shin and you scrambled away. "Where do you think you're going?" He grabbed your ankle and yanked you back.

“No! Let me go." You begged as he pinned your arms above your head in the same spot he had just murdered someone. Fresh tears started pouring from your eyes. "I hate you. Please let me go. I don't want to be here. Please!"

“You are mine." His knee pried your legs apart and settled between them. "Only mine. And, you will be until the day you die." He reached between you and unzipped his pants. "It looks like I need to remind you of that."

"Fuck." Lee sat there looking at you in shock.

"I...I shouldn't be here. I need to leave."

"No." Lee grabbed your hand. "Violet, look at me."

"If he finds me here, he'll kill you, all of you."

"No, he won't. We can handle him."

"He's crazy and the best at what he does. He knows how to make it look like an accident or like someone else did it. He-he-" Lee wrapped his arms around you and hugged you tightly as you cried. "I'm scared. I-I can't go back. I would rather die than be with him again."

"We're the best at what we do. If by some miracle he does find out you're here, he's going to be dead before he knew what happened. I...I don't want to scare you or push you away but Kayce's not the only one who's killed people. When we do, it's to protect the family, the ranch and we don't get caught. I figured you should know what you're gonna be marrying into someday." His eyes suddenly widened. "Shit. I didn't think- with your ex and me bugging you and Kayce all the time-"

"It's okay."

"I knew you liked my mop-haired little brother."

"I umm...I-" you started shaking your head.

"Violet, look at me." He didn't continue until you met his brown eyes. "From what you've told me about your ex, I can only imagine how scared you are about liking someone again. But, if you do like Kayce, you don't need to be scared. He would never hurt you or force you to do anything you didn't want to do. I'm not saying to rush into anything you aren't ready for. I know it's only been...I don't know when you left him but you've only been here for a month."

"I left December seventeenth. We were supposed to get married a week later, on Christmas Eve."

"Christmas Eve?"

"He and his family picked the date."

He let out an unimpressed huff. "Well, when you and Kayce get married you can pick everything." Blush stained your cheeks and he squeezed your knee. "So, you left the piece of shit three and a half months before you came here. If he's as good as you say he is at being a detective, he would've found you by now." When you didn't respond, he squeezed your knee again causing you to look at him. "You're safe here, Vi. You can relax now because this is your home and you have a ranch full of overprotective people who love you and will stop at nothing to keep you safe."

You finally nodded in agreement and he put his arm around you. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I'm your future big brother, it's my job to be here for you." He chuckled when red crept across your cheeks again. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know. Love you too." Your head rested on his shoulder and sat there in comfortable silence, watching the sun slowly make its way above the mountains.

*****

"Here you go." You smiled as you handed Tate a plate of cookies that the two of you just finished making.

His eyes widened with excitement as he looked at the still-warm cookies. "Grandpa, look!" He hurried to the living room as fast as he could while balancing the cookies. "We even made some raisin ones for you!"

"These taste just like the ones my mom used to make," Kayce said after taking a bite of one of the raisin ones from the container sitting on the island.

"It's her recipe. I was dusting the shelf with all of the cookbooks this morning and found a notebook hiding in the back. It has a bunch of recipes that she wrote down." You swallowed as you placed your hand on the blue notebook sitting by the container full of cookies. "I...I hope it's okay I used it."

Kayce reached across the kitchen island and squeezed your hand. "Of course it's okay. I remember this notebook. Most of the recipes in it have been passed down through the years. The original ones my great, great, great grandma wrote were so tattered mom wrote them in here." He opened the notebook to the back page. "She taped the original ones back here. It's crazy to think of my great, great, great grandma making them here for the first time after they settled here."

"Your great, great, great grandma knew what she was doing." You picked up a raisin cookie and took a bite.

"That she did." He finished his cookie. "You...you're more than welcome to watch the movie with us. Tate would love it."

The look in his eyes, you knew that he wasn't asking for Tate. I...I can't. "We made a triple batch of cookies so I was actually going to take these out to the bunkhouse."

Disappointed flashed across his face before he put on a smile. "They're going to love them."

"Yeah." You smiled softly before Tate's voice traveled down the hall.

"Dad! Hurry up!"

A giggle left your lips. His eyes dropped to your mouth when he heard it and you unconsciously licked your lips. "Tate-they're waiting and I should bring these out there. Enjoy your movie."

"I will." He smiled before joining his family in the living room.

I can't get too close. It's for the best. You pushed away thoughts of how nice it felt when his hand held yours, picked up the container of cookies, and went outside.

You knocked on the door to the bunkhouse and a few seconds later, Rip opened it. "Violet, hi."

"Hi. I made cookies."

He smiled and held the door for you. "Listen up. Violet's here so watch the language."

"It's okay." You giggled before everyone said hi in unison. "Hi, Tate and I made a triple batch of cookies. I thought you might like some."

"Hell yeah." Teeter, a spunky, faded pink-haired Texan and only woman wrangler in the bunch, cheered as you set the container in the middle of the table they were all gathered around.

Lloyd picked out a raisin one and took a bite. His eyes widened before he took another one and threw it to Rip. "Try it and tell me what ya think."

"Shit." Rip chuckled. "These taste just like the ones Evelyn used to make." Lloyd nodded in agreement.

"I found her old recipe book. It's her recipe. The chocolate chip ones are the same, Tate and I just switched out the raisins."

"You normally don't come out here." Lloyd laughed as Ryan and Colby fought over a cookie they both picked up at the same time. "By the looks of it, we're gonna want you to spend every evening with us."

You giggled as Teeter swooped in and took a bite out of the cookie in the two wrangler's hands, who handed it over to her. "Yeah, they're all watching a movie inside and I didn't feel like reading."

"Sit down, kiddo." The old cowboy ordered with a smile after pulling out an empty chair, the only empty chair around the table.

"Want me to deal ya in?" Jake, asked as he shuffled a deck of cards. "Poker."

"I don't know how to play."

"I can teach ya if ya want?" You nodded enthusiastically at Lloyd making him chuckle.

"Wait. I didn't bring any money out here with me."

"You brought something better." Rip picked up the half-empty container of cookies and set it in front of you. "They're off limits unless she loses 'em."

"I have a feeling they aren't going to have to wait very long to get them back."

Rip looked at Lloyd with a smirk. "I don't know. This old guy's been around for a while so he's played his fair share of poker."

"He's never had to deal with me though." You teased.

Lloyd chuckled as he squeezed your shoulder. "Deal her in, Jake."

"Have you seen Violet?" Lee asked as he burst through the bunkhouse door. "She's not inside-" the concern left his face when he saw you seated at the table.

"Sorry. I didn't think I would be out here this long."

"It's okay." The cowboy smiled. "I see you've been busy."

"Violet's a natural." Lloyd grinned proudly as he glanced at the stack of bills in front of you. "She should hit up the casinos in Vegas."

Lee's smile grew into a smirk. "My lovesick little brother could go with her and they can get hitched after."

You rolled your eyes and stood up. When you tried giving the wranglers back the money you won, they refused. "But, all I had were cookies. It's not fair."

"I would gladly play for those cookies any day of the week," Jake said. "I'm pretty sure that doesn't just go for me."

The other wranglers nodded. "Feel free to come out here anytime, especially if you got them cookies."

"I will." You smiled at Teeter.

"Warn us though 'cause I'm gonna need to take out some cash. You cleaned me out." Ryan laughed. You went to hand him his money back but he pointed at you. "Don't even think about it."

You picked up the empty cookie container and your winnings before kissing Lloyd's cheek. "Thank you for showing me how to play."

"You're welcome kiddo."

"Don't be a stranger," Rip added while Lee held the door open for you.

Lee fell in step with you and took the money from your hand. "Two hundred and thirty bucks. Damn, you did good." After handing your winnings back to you his smile faded. "I have a feeling your ex is responsible for you having such a good poker face."

You nodded. "No one knew what he was really like. I covered up the bruises with makeup. If I didn't do a good enough job and people could still see them or my sweater slipped off my shoulder and people saw a bruise in the shape of his hand on my arm, I had to lie. According to his family and his friends, I'm the clumsiest girl on the planet. If the bruise was on my arm, he grabbed me after I tripped and saved me from falling down the stairs or whatever. I...I'm not going to play poker with them anymore. It's not fair."

"Violet, you can't keep letting him control your life. You didn't win every game, there was a lot of money in front of the others too. Plus, you had fun." When you nodded slowly, the oldest Dutton son put his arm around you. "I know it's going to take a while to get used to but you're free. It's probably going to take longer to go back to how you were before you met him; apologizing all the time, being scared, all of it. But, I promise you that you will be you again."

You sniffed back tears and his hold on you tightened.

"I'll always be here for ya, no matter what. Love ya...future sister-in-law." He added with a grin.

You giggled and gave him a playful shove. "Wait. When you came into the bunkhouse looking for me you sounded worried."

"You weren't back inside yet after the movie and with the talk we had last week about your nightmare, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You thought he might have found me? I shouldn't have said anything. I don't want you to worry all the time."

"Him finding you crossed my mind even though in the back of my head I know that you're safe here. This was a one-time thing. That dinosaur movie Tate loves kind of creeps me out."

You laughed. "You do know dinosaurs are long gone, right? Besides, you deal with grizzly bears who want to eat you."

"Dinosaurs are a hell of a lot meaner than any old bear. If I need to, one shot and the bears down. Have you seen the size of a T-Rex? It would take more bullets than I could carry to bring one of those down. And, where we are, the mountains, they could easily be hiding out here."

"I'm pretty sure we would know if a dinosaur was hiding out in the mountains. Remember when they put the cow in with the raptors? I think you'd be missing quite a few of your cows. Unless they just go for people now." You continued teasing. "Maybe you should be worried about me. I would hate to be eaten by a dinosaur."

He laughed and draped his arm around your shoulders. "I'm not worried about ya 'cause my idiot brother watches you every chance he can, especially when he's supposed to be working." He chuckled when your cheeks turned red. "I win." A mischievous smile pulled at his lips while you walked into the main house.

"It looks like you made out pretty well." John smiled from in front of the fireplace.

"Yeah. Lloyd's a great teacher." You smiled back. "I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Violet."

Lee winked at you. "Goodnight. Make sure you buy something nice with your winnings."

You knew what you wanted to do with the money and after putting the empty container in the kitchen, you went to your room. Just in case. An image of Nick finding you flitted through your head as you put the lid back on the tin where you had been keeping your change. You also took out most of your first paycheque and had it in there in case you had to leave and couldn't risk stopping at a bank to withdraw any money. At least you would have some to last you for a while. You did feel safe here though...safer than you had anywhere else that you've been. But, you couldn't get too comfortable because you knew Nick and you would never be able to truly settle somewhere as long as he was alive.

"It sounds like you had fun out there." Kayce's voice from the doorway made you jump. "Sorry, I thought you heard me."

"It's okay. And, yeah I did. All of the cookies are gone though. How was your movie?"

"Jurassic Park for god knows how many times was good. Finally got the kid settled after reading him five stories."

"Let me guess. They were all about dinosaurs." You smiled as you walked over to the door and mindlessly started playing with the doorknob.

He smiled his perfect smile and it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter their wings. "You would be correct. Well, I should get to bed. I'm glad you had a good evening."

"I'm glad you enjoyed your movie. Goodnight, Kayce."

"Goodnight, Letty." When he continued standing there, you took a small step back.

His smile faded slightly and it made your heart ache. I work here, that's it. Nothing more. You gave him a soft smile.

The smile that had awakened the butterflies returned though. "Oh, I'm taking Tate with us when we check fences in the morning so you'll at least have half a Saturday to yourself."

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't mind when he's hanging around?"

"I know but still."

You giggled. "Sleep well."

"You too."

After closing the door, you rested your forehead against the stained wood. I work for him. I'm not- I can't. You buried your ever-growing feelings and focused on getting ready for bed.

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bomberqueen17 · 11 months ago

Text

great great great

It's all going great, it is. I'm frazzled for no real reason. But it's going.

Wednesday it snowed and the contractors showed up later than they meant to; it was almost 9 when the van pulled in to the neighbor's driveway and I opened my front door and said "over here man" and the guy was like "ah whoops there's the house number" and we laughed.

Description and photos behind the cut, this got long, but anyway this is why I dont' have a chapter ready to go this week either >.>

The demolition crew was two guys, a white dude about five feet five named Andrew with a piercing voice and impeccable manners, and a taller quiet Black dude named Dave. They put plastic sheeting over the doors out of the kitchen and proceeded to just wreak mayhem in there. The "installer", who I assume is kind of a project lead from the way everyone talked about him, wasn't present, he was tying up loose ends on a previous job. ("We had a third party doing vinyl and they just walked out and didn't finish it," Andrew told Dave. "I thought we didn't use third parties," Dave mused. "Yeah," Andrew said, "well that's why we don't." I loved how sharp Andrew's voice was because I could eavesdrop even over all the crashing noises.)

Andrew never swore in my presence but again, piercing voice, so I heard him explain to Dave, "I fucked myself over on these jobs tho, one of the early ones for this company I had extra time and they were like keep yourself busy somehow so we can pay ya, and I was like okay and I went through and I pulled all the staples and left the place so clean and nice, and now they expect me to do that every time. But it means I always get the job, the installers request me, because I'm gonna pull all the staples." I have no idea what was stapled, but I do believe him, because Dave was like "okay okay I'll pull the staples" and then I never saw any staples.

He was done by about 3:30 pm, to his own surprise. "Thought we'd need another half day, especially with the late start I got, on the road for an hour like that," he said (he was commuting up from the snow belt, and while our area had gotten three inches, they'd gotten over a foot down there, and nobody was handling it well on the roads.) "I didn't work slow, but I took my time, but everything came off so clean I'm all set here and it's done."

[image description: My kitchen before work started. Yellow linoleum floor in poor condition, brown wood cabinets, white and yellow linoleum countertops on a little L-shaped area, and a half-wall dividing the room partially so it's a tiny kitchen and a tiny dinette.]

[image: the work in progress, from the other door of the kitchen. The half-wall of the leg of the L is still visible as framing. The linoleum is gone, peeled back to wooden subflooring. The plaster walls are gone, down to the bare studs. The electric fixtures are hanging from the ceiling. in the foreground, Andrew is leaning on a four-foot stepladder, on his phone; in the background, Dave is in a fluorescent yellow hoodie on his knees on the floor scraping up the remnants of the linoleum underlayment.]

There is not a scrap of insulation in those walls. I asked Andrew and he laughed and was like "usually there isn't, in houses like this one".

When he left the half-wall frame was gone, and all of it was hauled out to a dump trailer in the driveway, neatly stowed, and the room was immaculate.

[image: an empty room with bare wall studs. The new windows are white frames. You can see the sink pipe, and the drainpipe vent going up toward the roof, jogged around the window. You can also see, under the bay window, the reinforced framing in the wall to support the original, much smaller picture window that used to be there.]

So that was day one. Day two, The Installer showed up. A fiftysomething moustachioed man named Jim, with the soft-spoken sort of mumbly variant of the local dialect that Dude's dad spoke too-- I had forgotten, Hap (yes dude's dad's name was really Hap) died twenty years ago now, but I did know him-- he did this kind of work, too-- anyway, Jim was more reserved than Andrew, but I made a point of greeting him, and made a point of mildly swearing fairly early in the conversation in like a funny way. A little later another guy showed up, a younger guy named Chad, and Jim explained later that Chad was finished with his project and looking to fill some time so he'd come to help and Jim was glad of the help. Chad set to work demolishing the last half-wall that was supposed to come out-- Andrew hadn't because Jim wanted to put in some bracing beforehand, since the wall's load-bearing and they're going to put in reinforcements to support it a little later.

I came out to look, and apologized for being nosy, and Chad laughed and said "it's your house!" and then mimed hitting the wall with the sledgehammer again and said "Bam!" quietly, like showing that he understood that it was fun to do/watch, and I proceeded to watch in delight as he carefully demolished the plaster wall and carefully removed the light switches and thermostat wiring from the remains.

Jim laughed at me and Chad, and after that has been much warmer to me. i've been well-trained to stand out of the way, and have come to watch them do various things.

[Image: Clean new 2x4s arranged into a temporary brace from ceiling to floor, with a stepladder threaded through it, extending along a space about two feet into the room from where the half-wall was just demolished, to hold the load of the rest of the house. The light switches are dangling and the heat vent poking up out of the floor is just a hole.]

Unfortunately they needed me to clear out a section of the basement where I'd deemed it safe to store things, because there need to be reinforcements put in under the pillars and beam that are replacing the load-bearing wall. I worked on that, and they came and helped me move a table. The heat vent has to be moved, and Jim thought there was going to have to be some whole thing with concrete but midway through the day he had called someone to confirm and they were like what are you talking about and he was delighted to discover he was reading an earlier version of the proposal, and the final contract had said that he could just reinforce a floor joist and meet code that way, rather than having to demolish part of my basement floor to pour a new concrete footing for a new jack post for a pillar to support the corner of the kitchen. He explained this to me with wonderful clarity, and pointed out other places where the original builders of the house had used this same doubled floor joist reinforcement.

Meanwhile the company hauled away the dump trailer with all the demolition debris, and then showed up with a flatbed with all the drywall and insulation for my project, which they put into my garage-- which coincidentally I'd just cleaned out because we'd just had the garage door replaced (on Tuesday, that finally happened, which is great because that was the last possible day it could have happened ha ha no that didn't stress me out at all why do you ask), so anyway it was great to have a good spot to put all that. They even moved the snowblower so it'd be easy to get to, before they filled up the space with the drywall.

Today (Friday) Jim's back by himself, cutting out the old heat vent and extending it to the other side of the room, where it will come up through the kickplate of one of the cabinets. This means that cabinet will be warm and also whoever sits at the table built in to the window will have warm toes, so I approve. Probably Chita is going to want to sit there so we're going to have to figure out how to make room for that, LOL.

Tomorrow Dude's mom is leaving to travel for Christmas, and we're going to go over to her house to house-sit. I think Jim won't have any more questions for me by then, or so I hope-- I'm going to give him my number anyway, and review with him that he's got the house key and everything he needs.

We are living in the living room like gremlins, and have to move sideways through the space because it's so crammed. It was all fine and good until we forgot we'd need to put the stove in there too, and now it's a struggle. And the microwave can't be on the same circuit with the fridge, so if I want to microwave something I have to use an extension cord going into the kitchen. So I can't microwave my lunches. And even still sometimes it trips the circuit breaker. Me having pre-prepared a bunch of food to microwave is now kind of a bummer, because the damn circuit breaker tripping is so annoying and slightly scary.

[image: Haunted-house-looking-ass-shit-- the thermostat is taped to the temporary bracing with painter's tape, and the light switches controlling the pale yellow light that's illuminating the scene are just dangling from their wires into the dark room.]

Today Jim's working on that heat vent and then figures he can get the floor underlayment in. He's cautiously optimistic that the project can be done before Christmas-- they said it would be six weeks, with the kitchen "roughly usable" after three, and he explained it more to me yesterday as he was about to leave.

So once he has the underlayment in, then Monday and Tuesday ("mondee-chusdee", in his accent) the electricians can come, and "chusdee-wensdee" the plumber can come. (He'll mark out the locations of all the cabinets and heights of the counters in painter's tape, he said, so the electricians can work confidently to place the outlets and fixtures.) The plumber will move the stove gas line and the refrigerator water line (Jim was so casually contemptuous of the way the installers had plumbed the waterline for our fridge when we bought it last year. "We'll do it right," he said, "with a water box and a shutoff up behind the fridge so you can work on it from there, we won't use a little plastic hose." He sniffed. "We'll repair this." The installers had used one of those lil sharkbite things I think, to put a little T into the waterline so a plastic tube could thread up through the floor to the fridge. "These things are-- well they're easy for a homeowner to install," Jim said not unkindly, "but they're, well, they're kind of trash."), and will bring the sink standpipe up to code-- it's not bad but it's very 1950-- and then after that, Jim can come back-- but he's got some vacation coming up, he's going to Florida to see his mom, so his colleague Max who's out sick this week ("I told him we didn't need to share whatever he's got, he's a giving guy but it's okay to keep that to himself") will be taking over but it should be pretty seamless-- anyway he explained the master-carpentering things he's gotta do, including building the cabinets and such, which'll take a while. The cabinets get built-in, and then the flooring is installed afterward to butt up against them (the flooring doesn't go under the cabinets because they're not movable, but it does go under the appliances since those are movable), and once the cabinets are in he can get the final measurements to the countertop people, who then take seven-ten days to manufacture the countertop to spec. So that's the delay, he explained-- the appliances can come in and get hooked up, and then you have your stove and your fridge and you can kind of use your kitchen. But the countertop people have this delay before they can install, and that's always where the project feels like it's dragging and people get frustrated, but it's unavoidable. He was delighted to be told that we won't be in the house at that point, we're gonna be house-sitting and won't be breathing down his neck about it. And if we do have to move back in here before the countertops we'll know what's up anyway.

Anyway. "Six weeks is a kinda CYA," he said, "yanno? We wanna leave space for problems. But this is a pretty straightforward job and I don't think we'll have problems." His goal is to have his end of the work done in time for the countertop people not to have to spread their seven-ten day lag out over Christmas and make it even longer. "If I can avoid that, they can get their install done before Christmas, and we can be done," he said. "That'd be pretty great."

So there's that scoop. I ought to be finding this relaxing, as all I've had to do is be like, available, and I've mostly had my days to myself, but I have found it so stressful to listen to all the crashing and such I haven't really gotten much done. Oh well, it's okay.

I am doing a little mini sewalong with some Discord buddies of a Sew Liberated blouse pattern. So I'll have photos of that at some point. I did manage to get the fabric cut even with my house torn up, which is a considerable achievement.

#about the author #personal #house remodeling

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