#driver about friday's weather: it's shit

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis Chapter 4

Pairing: Frankie x f!Reader

WC: 6.4k

A/N: Alrighty, things definitely start to take a turn here so please please read the warnings!!!

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, allusions to dub-con, but nothing actually happens, domestic assault, emotional/physical abuse, Tom - He’s going to come with his own warning, protective Frankie, Reader has emotional trauma, pregnancy stuff - nothing explicit, lots of feelings, infidelity, kissing

Summary: Tom crosses the line. You and Frankie are left wondering what to do next and end up crossing a line of your own. —have I mentioned I’m shit at summaries?

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The air outside is cool and crisp. The last little round of snow has melted for the most part, but despite the sunny weather, the chill in the air reminds you that it’s still very much winter.

This time of year, department stores are decked out in reds and pinks. Candies and balloons line every checkout aisle, making sure to capitalize on the day dedicated to Love that comes with each and every passing year. You’ve never really thought much about the holiday yourself. It’s never been a big deal for you and especially not for Tom… He would never reduce himself to flowers and chocolate— the sentiment was something he completely lacked all together.

—

This season in your life has been completely full of changes… some obvious. —Others not so much.

Physically? Everyone can see your very visible bump, the visual reminder of the child you share with your husband. Tom, who you wish more than anything you could just erase from your life - past and present. Knowing that the life you carry inside you is half of him? It makes you more sad than anything else. You take a breath and come back to yourself after having let your mind wander.

Currently, you are sitting in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck.

You look over and watch him silently. He still hasn’t said a word since you got into the cab.

His hands rub the steering wheel up and down -- a nervous tick you’ve noticed the last few times you’ve ridden with him.

You’re parked outside of his house --your call for help, now a distant memory after only silence during your drive. Frankie is still looking forward — hands still on the wheel.

You wished that being here with him had a different reasoning behind it. The irony of the day not lost on you.

He can’t even look at you.

Your cheeks are still red, although you can’t feel it anymore. It could be passed off as just rosy due to the cold, but both of you know the truth…

You look down in between you and Frankie. The older truck interior is a scratchy tan and red material… No center console, just a single seat that could fit three comfortably. You are on the far passenger side and Frankie on the driver’s side.

“What um… Where do you want me to take you?”

Frankie sounds almost withdrawn.

As if he didn’t just fight for your honor and defend you against your husband who finally seems to have lost his mind….

Images plague your mind as you ponder Frankie’s question…

—

Earlier That Day…..

Tom was a fucking asshole when he was drunk, but he normally reserved drinking for Friday’s on fight nights’ with the guys. So you were very surprised, when you came home on a Wednesday, after spending the day with your Mother, to find him home -- Not at work – but drunk. And extremely pissed off.

Something had been off with him for a long time now, but you never knew why. Something he wasn’t telling you, although that didn’t say a lot. But something else that was wearing on him. He must’ve been feeling it today because as soon as you walked in, he started going off…..

“Any idea how much money we’d save if you didn’t go to the City every Goddamn week?

—When’s she gonna take care of herself?

—I take care of her and I don’t get shit! ...We’re broke…” He chuckles —“always have been.. And you just keep doing everything for her…. Why?”

“Tom, stop. We’re not having this conversation. You’re drunk. We can discuss it later when you’ve had some time to sober up.”

—“Well I want to do it now!” He sounds like a petulant child. “How come you give her all of your attention huh? - Even that baby gets more from you than I do. I put the little fucker there, so you’d think that would count for something?”

“Tom, do you not remember that night? It was anything but romantic.”

“I remember having a good time… Fight Night with the guys and making love to my “wife” (he makes quotations in the air with his fingers.) “Wouldn’t you say the same?”

“Love is not the word I would use, no.” You have no idea where this courage is coming from.. It scares you a bit, but you continue on…

“I recall what always happens on “Fight Night…” it was your turn to use quotations.

“You get black out drunk and one of the guys has to bring you home. This time it was Frankie.”

He scoffs at the sound of Frankie’s name…. “Yeah, great guy our Fish..” He says it with so much disgust then adds… “You know he does a lot worse than just Drinking right? Lost his license and everything ‘cause he couldn’t stop the coke….”

“Tom, he’s your friend. Why are you being that way?”

You of course already knew about Frankie’s past coping mechanisms that he wasn’t proud of. He never tried to make excuses for himself, but wanted to strive to do better moving forward.

“Uh huh, some friend he is... Friend’s don’t do the things he’s done sweetheart. Friends don’t go behind your back yeah? ‘Friends’” (air quotes again) “don’t get little crushes on the wives of their superiors…” His tone gets deeper and more forceful with every word- “Friends don’t stick their nose into business that has nothing to do with them!”

“What are you talking about Tom?”

“Oh, are we just now learning about Frankie’s little obsession with you?”

You’re staring blankly…. You knew things had started to feel different between you and Frankie, for a while now if you’re being honest, but hearing it? Especially from Tom, who did not know how you guys would catch up over coffee every Wednesday for the last few months? You hadn’t even admitted anything to yourself, and you sure as hell weren’t confident in how Frankie felt. But Tom seemed to think he knew.

“Oh, a little birdy overheard him telling Will about how you deserved better than this arrangement you had with me…” —Every word out of his mouth is dripping in venomous condescension… He continues—

“The arrangement that no one was supposed to know about. Care to tell the class how MY friend seems to know, very well I might add, about our situation sweetheart?”

You are speechless. When you had spoken to Frankie about this he knew the implications of others finding out. Why would he tell Will?

Your thoughts are running rampant to the point you miss Tom getting up from the table. You look up at him as he comes to you. You try to calm your breathing as he gently puts his hands on your upper arms, rubbing up and down.

In a low register, he says quietly, “how would Frankie know about this huh?” His grip on your arms tightens slightly as he grinds his teeth and slowly growls, “you fucking told him.” It’s not a question.

You look away then, the shame you felt under his intense stare was more than you could handle. Almost instantly, you hear a crack and feel an intense pain in your left cheek -- then silence -- Maybe two seconds have passed and that’s all before you’re brought back to earth when the pain flares and your head stops ringing…

“You fucking told him about what I do for you -- about what you’re supposed to do for me! The deal that YOU agreed to, that would keep your ‘mommy’ safe and taken care of, unless you’ve forgotten? Or maybe you no longer care? Well guess what?”

--”No!! No Tom listen -- listen to me please!”

--Another crack to the opposite side and you lose your balance and stumble backwards -- your back hits the fridge and Tom is crowding you against it, almost snarling in your face—

“I fucking told you what would happen! I don’t ask for much -- I pay your bills -- I buy you everything! All I ask for is a warm cunt to fuck every once in a while and a wife to take care of me when I’m home…. Is that too damn much to ask??”

You are trying to hide your face to no avail.

“Look at me!!”

He grabs your mouth with his hand and scrunches your lips in an almost pout—

“You are MINE, whether you like it or fucking not. You agreed. You married ME in front of your family and vowed to love, honor, and Cherish….” His eyes are wild. His breathing is coming out in harsh pants across your face. The smell of alcohol, acrid and hot, makes you nauseous on top of the throbbing of your cheeks.

“Unless of course you only want to see her by webcam when she gets shipped back to Cuba?”

The tears are flowing freely and you nod your head slowly side to side…

“That’s a good girl,” as he pats your cheek condescendingly--

“Now sit the fuck down. I gotta piss – don’t you fucking move. I’ll be right back.”

He puts his hands up in a mock surrender as he backs up. “I just wanna talk.”

His laugh as he walks away is almost sadistic and you think he’s finally lost it. You actually fear for yourself and your unborn child.

You sit quietly —You don’t move, but you look at your purse… where you know your flip phone is —where you know the last number you called was Frankie’s, asking him the name of the sandwich he ordered at lunch that afternoon. What was only a few hours ago now seems light years away…

You reach over slowly so as to not alert Tom - You grasp the phone in your hand, putting it under the table. You pray with everything in you that your phone kept the contact info for a redial. You hit send and within two rings a very confused Frankie answers…

He knows the deal with the phone and knows you should be at home -- so why were you calling him?

“Hello?”

—”Shhhhhhh shhhhhhhh….” you say in the softest tone you can manage that’s audible…

“Help…” you whisper…. “Please.”

And you hang up and pray he doesn’t try to call back.

You put your phone back and close your eyes - you hear Tom stomping down the hallway until he’s back in front of you.

“Oh why the long face sweetheart? I’m not mad anymore… I just don’t want to lose you…”

He’s walking towards you slowly, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. His voice is calm and even…. “You know how much I love you right?”

The complete 180 in his demeanor gives you whiplash as you try to make sense of his words.

Tom steps in front of you and kneels down —He looks completely gone. He must’ve thrown down a few more shots just before you got home because he seems worse now than before.

Tom puts his hands on your thighs, rubbing up and down and now he’s staring between your legs —You gulp unconsciously…

“This fucking cunt… God, I just want to bury myself in it and never fucking leave.”

He chuckles again, looking up to you with glazed puppy dog eyes. “Would you like that? Hmmm??? Want me to fill you up baby?”

You swallow your disgust and say nothing.

He chuckles, “Well,” he lowers his eyes to your midsection. “Guess I already did that didn’t I?”

He says it with pride as he eyes your stomach. You do your best to remain calm because you know what happens next.

—Sex with Tom, while not always unenjoyable in general, would border on scary when he was drunk. It had been more recently that it became almost painful. He has always been pretty vulgar with you and sometimes almost seemed to try and rough you up. He wasn’t necessarily being forceful, but he was definitely capable and he seemed to get off on the power trip of that knowledge. Like he knew he could hurt you, but chose not to.

– Lately, it seemed like he would go as hard as he could, like he was trying to run away from something…

He wasn’t gentle and as your bump grew, so did his frustration when you would say things like “don’t hurt the baby” etc.

“Don’t hurt the baby….” Mocking your concern and simply turning you over until you were on all fours. His grip on your hips was always bruising and he’d slap your ass so hard it would leave welts for hours.

The only upside was that he was usually done fairly quickly and would pass out— leaving you to clean up and brace yourself before quietly coming back to bed and trying to sleep.

Your face stings, reminding you that this time he’d actually hit you — not once, but twice.

He had never crossed that line before. He’s never been good to you, but even after all this time, he’d never physically laid hands on you in that way. You knew that this was a much different, much more dangerous version of the man that you realize you’ve hated for a very long time.

You are trying to draw out the time to give Frankie the chance to get here

— If he was even coming at all.

You weren’t even sure where he was, having just seen him for lunch in the City, but you had to hope he was here in town somehow. Otherwise he would be too far and you didn’t trust calling 911 just yet.

You did not want to find out what would happen if you went to bed with Tom in this state, but you were also worried about fighting him now—

He’s grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. You pray that it's over with quickly and that he takes pity on you when he looks at your face.

You would rather he just belittle you with his words as opposed to getting more physical.

—You begin to follow him when you’re stopped by the screech of tires and the rough scrape of gravel being spewed behind a halting vehicle. The sound is loud enough to alert Tom so that he goes to the window, only to see a very scared looking Frankie running up the porch steps and banging on the door.

“What the fuck?”

Tom doesn’t let go of your hand as he goes to open the door.

“What are you doing here Fish?” Tom snaps.

You’re positioned behind the door so Frankie can’t see you…

He waits a moment, just listening before he asks where you are.. He sounds scared, worried. You’d never heard that from him before.

You look up quickly at the mention of your name and Tom notices as you still.

“Ha, the fuck you have any reason to ask where MY wife is?!”

He looks to you, then to Frankie and it dawns on him that he left you alone long enough to make a call—

Obviously, the call was to Frankie who wasted no time in coming to your rescue.

“The fuck she tell you? Huh?”

“Tom, man, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I just came to make sure she’s ok. That’s all.”

“Oh she’s fine. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

Tom pulls you out from behind the door and you see the look on Frankie’s face fall, his jaw dropping in concern, then changing to anger the second he takes note of your reddened cheeks. Both are stinging and puffy, but the right side has a tiny knick from the contact with Tom’s wedding ring. It’s hardly bled, but is noticeable enough that without a word, the next thing you know, Tom is on the ground —almost taking you with him.

The second Tom’s hand is out of yours, you run outside into the biting February air.. No shoes, no purse —phone still in your bag on the table. Tom is too dazed to notice right away, but once his vision clears, he’s up and nose to nose with Frankie.

Wasting no time, Frankie knocks him back down, grabbing him by his jacket and slamming him back onto the tile floor. Tom starts to struggle, but Frankie reaches into his back pocket and starts wrapping something around Tom’s wrists, pulling tightly. You think they look like zip ties…

What the fuck was Frankie doing? He couldn’t just leave Tom like this… Could he?

Tom is spewing all kinds of things now… “You just fucking wait….. I taught you everything you fucking know asshole!!”

You look toward the open front door when you hear your name…

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You just gonna stand there? Get me out of this!!!”

When you make no move to help Tom, he starts laughing maniacally…

”Ohhhh, you fucking… You made a big fucking mistake….. What’s your MOMMY gonna say when she finds out what you’re doing huh?? Leaving me here like this? Are you forgetting what I can do sweetheart???”

At his words, you start to panic. You run back inside, no real plan, just fear propelling you forward.

“Frankie Stop! He’s right, just let him go!”

Tom can’t help himself, but to chime in,

“Yeah Frank, let me go!”

Frankie looks at you again and as he sees the light spot of purple blooming on your right cheek, he grabs Tom by the front of his shirt and spits outs “Fuck you Tom,” headbutting him and pushing him to the floor.

“Get your shit and let’s go! He won’t be out long.”

You run and grab your purse and phone, grabbing your shoes and coat without putting them on as you run to Frankie’s truck.

Frankie takes a little extra time with the zip ties, securing them around Tom’s legs as well just to make it that much harder for him to get out once he comes to.

You’re in the truck when Frankie comes out. He gets in without a word, starts it up and peels out quickly… Leaving Tom behind, tied up and unconscious.

You had no idea what was going to happen. You were terrified to see what Tom would do, but the prospect of finally being free from him? You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Frankie was gripping the steering wheel harshly —Knuckles white and fingernails digging into the leather. He still hasn’t said anything to you, but you try to enjoy the silence for now. You have no idea where you’re going, but you close your eyes and just listen to the heater blow warm air throughout the cab as Frankie drives you away.

—

“I don’t know.”

An honest answer to his question of where to take you… Because you don’t. Where do you go when you’re six months pregnant, and your husband is a psychopath who is probably going out of his mind trying to find you right now. You were worried about your mother, but you knew Tom would be obsessed with finding you first. You think you will have enough time to alert her to possibly try and stay with a friend until things calm down.

“I don’t have anything in this City. My mother lives here, but Tom knows where she lives —Why did we come here Frankie? He knows I left with you so this will be the first place he checks!”

“Tom won’t find us here. He doesn’t know about this place. It was my Dad’s, but it’s mine now.”

You double take and look again at your surroundings… There are trees surrounding you in pretty much every direction, and in the center is a little cabin that looks like it could use some TLC —like it’s been abandoned for awhile.

“You could, uh, stay here — if you wanted. Just to lay low for a while. We probably need to file an ex-parte against him. Not that they always work, but it’s a good starting point.” Frankie’s voice is subdued… He sounds like he’s simply running on auto-pilot, trying to figure out what to do next.

You look down and see his hand worrying at his thigh— picking at the frayed material on his jeans. You slowly reach over and as you grab his hand, he lifts his head to look at you.

“Thank you Frankie.” You wished you could find the words to express how grateful you truly were. A simple ‘thank you’ would have to do for now.

“You’re welcome,” comes his reply with a stiff nod of his head.

He’s still holding your hand, engulfing it in his palm. His eyes once again land on your face and his grip tightens.

“What the hell happened?”

“Well, you know the conversation we had where I told you about the circumstances of our marriage? Tom and me?”

Frankie tries and fails to hide his annoyance when he answers with a simple flat,

“yes.”

Of course he remembers. He couldn’t NOT remember even when he tells himself he needs to forget. To let it go. That there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Apparently, someone overheard you telling Will about it. And it got back to Tom somehow. He obviously knew that I was the one that told you. No one was supposed to know about it.”

He reaches out and very lightly puts his hand against your right cheek —his thumb barely tracing under your eye.

“Then why did you tell me? Why was I allowed to know?” Frankie blurts it out before he can stop himself as if you were at fault, but he doesn’t actually believe that. He feels as though he knows the reason you shared it with him, but he doesn’t want to speak for you. As much as he wants it to be, Frankie knows that your situation makes it all but impossible.

He lightly moves your chin to the left then to the right to compare. The right side definitely took the brunt of it, he thinks. He looks down and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I.. I never meant….”

He looks back up to you and his eyes are red rimmed and pleading.

“It’s ok Frankie. It’s ok.”

“No… no it’s not ok. He fucking hurt you, he…. Because I couldn’t handle it and just keep my thoughts to myself! I.. What if you.. what if you hadn’t been able to call me?”

His eyes look panicked and his breathing picks up.

“What would he have done, if I hadn’t shown up??”

“Frankie, it’s ok. I’m ok.”

You try to be reassuring, but the fact is, you don’t know the answer to his question.

Frankie slowly lifts his hand back to your cheek and gently swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. You look up and put your hand on his, rubbing down his forearm and back up a few times in a comforting manner. He scoots closer to you and pulls you into his side. When you look back up at him, his eyes are closed tightly like he’s trying to prevent himself from breaking down.

That feeling between you, the one that you have been trying to ignore for weeks, refuses to be overlooked any longer. How at ease you felt with him —you began looking forward to Wednesdays for more than just the break it gave you from Tom, but you hadn’t ever given voice to those thoughts. You enjoyed having adult conversations with someone other than your mother, even though you were grateful for your time spent with her also. Frankie made you feel a little more alive without you even realizing it.

He talked to you, not down to you or at you. He would ask your opinion on something and seemed to genuinely enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his.

He was your friend. An actual friend who cared about you and who you cared about as well, much more than you wanted to admit.

You don’t know exactly when it shifted into more, but right now, all you can think about is how close he is to you. How you can smell his light cologne mixed with what you can only describe as the outdoors, that always seems to linger on him. How much warmth his body puts off especially with how chilly it is in the cab. You couldn’t stop looking at him if you tried, but you’re not exactly trying either.

He breathes out through his mouth slowly and opens his eyes, looking down. He sees that you’re already looking up at him and he smiles —just a little half smile that shows off the dimple in his right cheek. The dimple that you’ve caught yourself taking notice of on more than one occasion.

He takes his hand and brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear, ever mindful of your bruised cheek. You reach up and grab his hand and slowly open his palm and intertwine your fingers…. His other hand moves to the left side of your head and he gently nudges you forward.

His eyes are still on you. You feel completely safe right here with him and you know that you hold the control.

He has always been so delicate with you— the kind you never got with Tom, but it made you feel powerful. Like what you had to say mattered. That you actually mattered. Your thoughts, and your worries— They all mattered to Frankie.

So, you take that control and allow his hand to nudge you just that much further until your forehead touches his. His eyes close immediately and he draws in a shaky breath.

On exhale, his eyes open up and you almost miss his whispered breath of your name.

You cut him off with a quick nod and then, that’s it.

Just like that, the little bit of space between you is closed and you shut your eyes as his lips meet yours for the first time.

Neither of you move, as you both adjust to being this close… instead letting yourselves feel the other this way.

His lips are warm, a soft caress to your sensitive mouth. —Your whole face still stinging from earlier.

Frankie’s lips part, but they don’t leave you… He’s just breathing you in. His facial hair is tickling your nose just so and it makes you giggle lightly.

He smiles and brings his lips back together, pushing more firmly against your own this time. Your mouth opens slightly and it’s like he’s ripped the air straight out of you as you feel his tongue gently peek out to taste your lips. Your tongue responds automatically and meets him there.

The second you get a taste, you lose all sense of everything except this. Your other hand, not currently intertwined with his, grabs his cheek, lightly playing with his scruff there. Your lips slam against his and you drink him in. He responds the same… His tongue is tentatively demanding entry into your mouth and you let him in.

When you feel Frankie’s tongue softly lapping at your own, you think you’re going insane. You want him everywhere. You want to breathe him inside of you and never let him out.

You nip at his bottom lip and Frankie groans. His free hand is resting on your thigh, but is moving up higher, slowly. He brings it up and grasps your side softly and the heat from his hand radiates through your shirt.

And just as quickly, he stops. He pulls back from you, but his hand is still on your side. When you look, you notice his eyes are focused on his hand.

Being this far into your pregnancy, you don’t really think about it anymore when you feel random kicks and pains etc —But Frankie wouldn’t have any idea. He doesn’t have any children of his own and this is the first time he’s touched you like this. By his reaction alone you can only assume that he’s never experienced this before with anyone else. You look back up at him and you can’t determine the look on his face… Is he horrified?

“Frankie?” You ask softly… He looks at you then, his hand never leaving you…

“I just felt something…”

“Have you never felt a baby kick before?”

Frankie shakes his head no with a look of absolute wonderment on his face now. He takes his other hand and lays it on your other side.

You slowly bring both of his hands around until they encompass your entire belly.

—He looks terrified, but he hasn’t said anything. You feel the baby kick again and he lets out a shaky breath.

“I, God, you’re beautiful..” He takes a minute and just looks at your belly while still caressing it tenderly with his hands, his genuine smile endears him to you some even more.

But, then you see the change in his face once everything finally registers with him. His features go from that of adoration to almost anger. He looks up at you…

“Tom. He— That piece of shit laid his hands on you.” He says it with a bite of finality.

It’s a fact that Frankie is realizing now while holding you. Your unborn child at the forefront of his mind when the thought never even crossed Tom’s.

“How could he do this? I know about this thing between you. I get it… You told me. But is there something else I’m missing?” He looks genuinely lost..

“It doesn’t fucking matter regardless because nothing can excuse what he did to you.”

He removes his hands from your waist, pulling his hat up and running a hand through his hair.

“I’m going to make this right.”

“What do you mean Frankie?” You know he means well, but it was fruitless. What could he possibly do to change any of this?

“I mean I’m going to fix this. I’m going to protect you.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes you at the promise. You’re not trying to be rude in any way, but it just comes out.

“What?” Frankie’s confused, but it’s not his fault.

“It’s nothing. I’ve just heard those exact same words before and look where it got me? I’m married to a man that I’ve never loved —not even close. I’m pregnant with his child that he is going to use against me at every turn and I have a mother who is going to end up deported and disgraced if Tom decides he’s done with me. And after THIS? What’s going to stop him?!”

Your thoughts are coming out of your mouth as soon as they enter your mind….

“I, I have to go back??” You whisper to yourself.

“Oh my God, oh my God, Frankie —Frankie my mother!! —Please, I need you to take me back!” You’re half frantic… the worry in your voice makes Frankie cringe inwardly.

“No.” Is all he says.

“Frankie, I can’t let anything happen to her. Please—”

You are begging now. Your rational mind is all but gone and all you think about now is stopping Tom from doing something you can’t undo.

Frankie looks at you and the worry on his face is evident.

“But what about you? What about your baby? You think he’s just going to be ok with everything and pretend like nothing happened? He hurt you… I’m not just going to take you back to him.”

“Frankie, please. I can.. I can take care of myself. I appreciate your concern and I am beyond grateful you came today. But I have been dealing with Tom this long, and I can manage it now.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you know how idiotic it sounds. You are just as scared for yourself and the baby, but Tom wouldn’t actually hurt a child would he?

You know it’s not something you can keep up forever. There will be a turning point, but you just need to stay strong until you figure out something else.

Frankie shakes his head and looks forward.

“So what about— this?” He motions between the two of you. It’s selfish. He knows it is. The more pressing issue is your safety and trying to convince you not to go back. But he has to say something. Just to see where you’re at.

“Do we just forget about it? Tom isn’t going to let me anywhere near you after this. I can’t willingly let you go back knowing what he’s done. If something were to happen to you and I allowed you to go back with him? It’d be my fault. I can’t. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You see where he is coming from, but you have to do this. There’s no other way at this moment. So you say the only thing you know he won’t argue with—

“But this is the choice I’m making Frankie. You have always respected me. More than anyone I’ve known. You’ve always let me make my own decisions. This is my choice—I….” Your voice starts to break.

You are so torn. You don’t want Tom. You never have. But you need more time to come up with another plan. You know that this decision will keep you from Frankie. Even before your kiss, you had enjoyed your time with him as a friend —He made you feel like a person and never asked for anything in return. This was going to hurt, and you hated to make him worry, but you had to do this.

“I need you to take me back.”

Frankie sees the resolve on your face and knows there’s no argument. He knows that nothing he says will change your mind.

Fucking Tom…. He’s got her so screwed up —Why is she doing this? His thoughts run away from him.

So many questions. He’s so conflicted. This is your life and you should be able to make your own decisions —even as reckless as they seem, Frankie had no right to stop you. He could try to change your mind, but the decision was yours.

“I can’t stop you, if it’s what you want. I will respect your decision, even if I don’t agree with it. But please, please, don’t hesitate to call me. Just let me know that you’re safe.”

“I will Frankie. Thank you.”

He nods once and grips the steering wheel, before starting the engine and backing out of the driveway.

You don’t realize how cold you are until the warm air from the vents starts to fog up the windshield. The adrenaline from the day has worn off, and you start shivering —It was later in the afternoon and you wanted to be back before dark if possible, but before long Frankie slows the truck to another stop.

You look up at the sound of your name to see Frankie staring down at his lap. When he looks over at you, he puts his hand over yours, just letting it rest there. You look down at your hands now and think about how nice this feels. Something so simple, just holding your hand. His palm is warm. Your small hand fitting easily within his grasp.

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

“This can’t happen again, can it..” Another statement. Another fact he’s realizing. Another selfish question that he already knows the answer to. Your nod of disappointment only confirms the truth of it.

“Tom is going to be worse and more controlling than before, I’m worried I won’t even be able to see my mother on Wednesdays. But, I have to try Frankie. I have to figure this out on my own.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone — Please, let me help you…”

“Frankie, please don’t.”

He shakes his head, but it has no merit.

“Ok, I’m sorry. But I’m here and all you have to do is let me know and I’ll be there.”

The next words come out without you even realizing it as you brush his hair to the side, “I’m really going to miss you.”

He turns his head into your hand so that your fingers are on his lips —He kisses your fingertips and a tear escapes down your cheek.

Frankie grabs your hand and pulls you to him slowly. He wipes your tears away and kisses your lips. It’s full of everything he wants, but can’t bring himself to say. Don’t leave. Stay. Don’t do this. Don’t go back. And finally—

—I’m going to miss you too.

Frankie’s kiss becomes more frantic. He’s trying to soak up as much of you as possible. He’s saying goodbye.

By the time you finally pull apart, your cheeks are wet and your eyes are puffy. Neither of you are ready to let go, but you have to — You have to get back and deal with the reality of your situation.

—

The drive is over before you’re even close to being ready. The sun is just starting to set when Frankie pulls into your driveway.

Tom's truck is gone and you breathe a sigh of relief at having some time to compose yourself. When you look over at Frankie, you grab his arm, lightly squeezing in reassurance. He grabs your hand then, and brings it to his lips, placing a long wistful kiss against your skin. He never breaks eye contact with you, until you slowly pull your hand away to open your door and he clears his throat.

“I’ll uh, I’ll be here. Just be safe. Please.”

His words are short and clipped like he’s just trying to get through this as quickly as possible.

“I will. Thank you Frankie.”

Frankie’s nod is curt before he faces forward again and you know it’s what you deserve for doing this to him. It stings, but you don’t fault him for it. You didn’t really give him a choice.

You give a slight nod back before getting out of the truck and closing the door. You wave one last goodby before heading up the porch steps and going inside. You don’t look back and as soon as you hear his truck pull away, the tears flow freely and you just let yourself take it all in. You slowly sink to the floor with your head buried in your hands. This wasn’t fair. You’ve never allowed yourself anything. Always putting someone else before you — you deserved to be happy too. There had to be some way to end this. Without your mother suffering the consequences.

You slowly gather your thoughts together until you hear the sound of Tom’s truck pulling into the driveway. You stand up, slowly bracing yourself for whatever was going to happen next.

—

Taglist: @boliv-jenta @heythere-mel @harriedandharassed @just-here-for-the-moment @queridopascal-main @sunnysidekit @bitchwitch1981 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @dashavau @something-tofightfor @imaswellkid @quica-quica-quica @mymo-n @autumnleaves1991-blog

A/N: So, our first present day interaction with Tom…. How we feelin??

😬😬😬

I live for questions, reblogs, or feedback of any kind, so please let me know what you think !!

As always thank you so much for reading and let me know if you would like to be added/removed from the Taglist!

[happy-radio]

Creepcast fans, I wrote a fan story based on the antics of the podcast

(Also posted under the read more if you don't wanna go to Reddit)

Waffle House, an icon of American midwestern and southern culture. Often, it’s yellow glow is a beacon of hope to those late night dwellers, whether they be members of the working class or alcohol favoring partiers. Druggos are also a staple clientele. Waffle House, for better or worse, opens its doors to everyone from every walk of life.

I will set the scene: it’s a late Thursday night, or early Friday morning in technicality, and I was heading home from a late night bender where I had the important but ultimately boring job of designated driver. All I wanted to do was go home and crack open a cold one for myself to kick off my weekend. Nature had other plans, however. The weather in the midsouth turned on a dime, and tonight was no exception. A downpour diminished any visibility on the road, and I knew I couldn’t confidently drive through this. The familiar yellow glow shone through the onslaught of rain and hail, however, and given that Waffle House will probably remain open under threat of nuclear war, I knew I could seek refuge there.

The jingling bells welcomed me more than any employee did, but I could not blame them. The restaurant was a mess, probably from a busy evening earlier. The rodeo was this weekend, after all, and those rodeo boys sure loved their Waffle House. Shit, we all did. It was a Waffle Home in this part of town-- it was all we had after the rest of the town went to bed at sundown.

A waitress sighs and tells me to sit wherever I’d like and she’d get to me when she could. She looked so tired. I picked the one somewhat clean table in the place, and watched the storm rage on outside. My phone confirmed that I would be here for awhile, and all I could do at this point was hope it didn’t evolve into a tornado. Waffle House would probably remain open even if it did.

Even this late into the night, Waffle House had a buzz of conversation and kitchen noises. I saw a full staff and other customers, and yet, the only sound in the place was the hail beating on the roof and windows. The usual late night sound of laughter or arguments (usually the latter) was replaced by this frighteningly eerie silence.

Seeing my phone was nearing the end of its battery life, I glanced around for an outlet when my eyes met those of the man in the booth across me. His hunched shoulders were cloaked in a dirty plaid shirt, and I assumed he might have been one of the rodeo boys. He wasn’t terribly old, maybe in his fifties at most, but the weariness of his features aged him. He stared at me momentarily, a slight crustiness to his gaze, before he returned to his plate of syrup soaked waffles.

I slid down a little in my booth, knowing I’d soon be phoneless. Well, not the end of the world, I figured. People operated just fine without phones for years. I set it aside and waited for my waitress to remember I was here.

The lights above flickered, and yet were silent-- none of that fluorescent hum. Or maybe there was, and I just couldn’t hear it among the thunder and hail. It still struck me as unsettling, but my thoughts were interrupted by the work worn face of Marilyn.

“What can I get you?,” she asked in a monotone voice that added to my increasing unease. She didn’t sound tired, or annoyed, she sounded utterly blank. Almost robotic, but with an inflection of human that made it uncanny.

“Could I get a coffee, and the two egg breakfast with--” I didn’t get to specify anything about my plate before she was walking away. Must have been a hell of a shift, I thought to myself. Whatever, food was food, I would be fine with whatever I got at this point, as long as it passed the time faster. I just wanted to go home.

Her shoes echoed as she shuffled off, and she didn’t speak with the cook, she just handed him a plate with random crap on it. Figuring my staring would be rude, I turned back to the window. Luckily, the hail stopped, but the rain was still coming down in buckets. No tornado watch yet. The atmosphere felt oppressively thick, and I almost felt like I was choking on the smells of burnt coffee, bacon, and stale cigarettes. There was an undertone to it though, something I couldn’t place right away. It was oddly….metallic.

I pressed the heels of my hand to my eyes and took a deep breath. I had to relax. It was just a fucking Waffle House. It was always weird-- that was part of the charm. My growing anxiety was just the storms, right?

“Good time for a late night meal, huh?” The voice made me jump from my seat. It was the rodeo guy, staring right at me. His voice was low and gravelly and much more human than the waitress’s, yet it gave me even more anxiety. Despite how I’d seen him actively eating, his plate had the same amount of food on it that I’d seen earlier. He had a little smirk on his face, and glanced at the window, as if suggesting I do the same.

I smiled nervously, wondering why the fuck some random man was talking to me. I was a newer face around this part of the country, and what they called Southern Hospitality still creeped me the fuck out. As if noticing this, he let out a frightening little chuckle before returning to his plate of waffles, his weirdly hypnotic gaze now breaking.

I looked back out the window, weirdly compelled to, and the rain had downgraded to less apocalyptic now. I could see my car, and a few bodies in the parking lot smoking. I had a bad habit of not locking my doors, so I locked them from my remote to deter any smokers out there who might be interested in my stunning little Nissan Altima that smoked if you drove it longer than twenty minutes. Lightning flashed, momentarily illuminating the parking lot. That’s when I noticed the shadows. They moved unnaturally, and danced only at the very edges of the parking lot.

My heart began to race, but like before, the waitress interrupted my growing unease. A cup of coffee was placed in front of me, its smell warm and familiar. And yet, it brought me no comfort. I tried to ask for sugar and cream, but again, the waitress walked away before I could. Black coffee was better than no coffee, I figured. Taking a sip eased my nerves a bit, and I told myself I was just letting my anxiety get out of hand. I was finding fright in things that were perfectly normal-- for a Waffle House.

Aside myself and the rodeo boy, there was one other table here. Five people in total, who were silent the whole time. I only knew this because they stared at me as they walked by to leave. No words, no smiles, just vacant staring. I knew I stood out, but it made me feel uncomfortable regardless.

Rodeo boy laughs once more. “Saw yer plates,” he said, motioning to the window. “Out of state. You’re new here, aren’t ya?”

“Been about six months,” I replied. Did that count as new? Ever since I moved here, people seemed obsessed with the idea of me being from out of town. It felt so unnecessary.

“That’s just a drop of piss in the bucket, son. I’m here every night, and I ain’t ever seen you.” He was right. I’d never been to this Waffle House before. I much more preferred the one on the highway, surrounded by other businesses. This one was more remote, which added to it’s uncomfortable atmosphere. “They’re gonna stare, son. You’re out here dressed as Count Dracula, chokin’ back black coffee. We don’t do cream ‘n sugar, you’ll just have to mature a bit.”

He laughed once more, but I decided not to reply. Why should I? He was a creepy, hulking man who was getting a kick out of scaring and insulting me. It felt safest to pretend he wasn’t there.

My eyes go back to the window, and in another flash of lightning, I see them again. The shadows. It was as if fingers of darkness were clawing at the edges of the parking lot. I inched closer to the glass to get a better look, when the sound of a plate slamming once again pulls my attention away. My waitress.

“Syrup?,” she asked.

It confused me, until I looked down and saw waffles. I hadn’t ordered that. “Oh, this is--”

“All we got,” she snapped. “Syrup or not?”

I nervously shook my head and slumped in my seat some as she walked away. I wasn’t the biggest fan of waffles-- even Waffle House’s-- but hey, food was food. I took a bite, and again looked out the window. The sight made me nearly choke on my food.

The man was laughing wholeheartedly now, as if my horror was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. The entire lot now was engulfed in the strange tendrils of shadow, and it was pulling at the hedges that perimetered the building. I got up quickly, getting as far from the window as I could in a short amount of time.

My eyes looked to rodeo boy. “Shut the fuck up dude-- don’t you see that!?”

“See what?,” he mocked. “Oh, hush boy.” His laughing ceased and he pointed at the seat across his. “Your mind’s playing with ya, making ya see shit. Why don’t ya sit awhile and relax some?”

I shook my head and turned to the counter, trying to pay. But it was like the staff was ignoring me.

“Ah, come on!,” the man teased. “You look like you’d be a big fan of the creepy crawlies that hang out ‘round here! C’mon, sit with me, I can tell ya all about it.”

I still didn’t want to, and every instinct said not to, and yet, it was like he was forcing me to. I was stiff as a corpse as I sat down, and my eyes refused to meet his. They were quite suddenly full of life, like a proud predator who had just caught his prey.

“They say these woods are haunted,” he said.

“That’s cool…” I murmured, looking for any out to leave.

“The shadows yer seeing, they ain’t real. The trees pull weird tricks out here. No, no, see the real worries in this neck of the woods ain’t no ghosties. There’s weird people.”

No shit. I’m sitting with one.

He then says something that injected ice into my veins. “Yanno, you’d make a fine lookin’ corpse, Hollywood.”

There was an instinct to correct him, wanting to say that just because I was from California didn’t mean I was from Hollywood. I’d never even been to fucking Hollywood. But fear took over, and I tried to inch out of my seat.

“Not a lot of meat on ya, though. But I bet you’re one of them clean eaters, all that plant based shit. I bet that’s like a good, grass fed beef. Ya dig?”

I dug, alright. I once again tried to leave, but now, his hand had a frighteningly strong grip on my own. “I wouldn’t go out there right now if I was you. Like I said, they say these woods are haunted. They say they make people do crazy things. There’s a few families in them there woods, families I won’t ever speak to. They like to wait for the dark--” His voice immediately stopped with the tingling of bells. A new face had just walked in.

He was a tall, thin, utterly filthy man. I would guess that he was a farmer based on his clothing, but it was almost as if he was dressed in a costume to trick people like me who weren’t raised around here.

Rodeo boy in front of me now leaned in close. “That there’s one of em,” he whispered. “You sit tight, pretty boy.”

I had a chance to escape then, as he’d gotten up to greet this freak. But that meant walking right by them, which I didn’t want to chance. This new comer had dead eyes, the kind with no soul in them. I turned away, quietly listening to rodeo boy talk him up.

“Well, shoot, Todd I ain’t seen ya in, shit, how long’s it been now?” Rodeo boy sounded genuinely friendly now.

“Not since our Brodie went missin’,” Todd replied. His voice was oddly deep for someone as scrawny as he was. “It’s been ‘bout six months.”

Todd glances my way, and I again feel ice in my blood. “You looks a lot like my Brodie,” he said. “You wanna be Brodie?”

Rodeo boy, takes him by the shoulder and leads him to a table. “Now, Todd, that twig looks nothing like Brodie. You don’t want him.”

Want me? I got up now, knowing this may not end well. I tried to be inconspicuous as I went for the door, but Todd’s voice warned me not to. “You don’t wanna go out there right now. Mama’s out, ‘n she’s in one of her moods. She’s been real hungry, Mason. I dunno what to with her.”

Rodeo boy, aka Mason, told me to sit back down before turning back to Todd. “You gotta ride it out. Yer family can’t keep doin’ this.” His voice dropped to a hush. “One of these days, someone’s gonna catch on. Get her a deer or somethin’, all these missin’ boys is eventually gonna turn back to you.”

It was all clicking. Was this Mama some crazed murder? Was she blood thirsty? Or was it a more literal hunger?

I didn’t want to stick around to find out. My car was less than twenty feet away. If I ran, I could get in it fast enough to beat it out of here.

“I wouldn’t try it!,” Mason called after me. But it was too late. I was dining and dashing sure, but I had to get the fuck out of here. Through the rain, I sprinted to my car, and practically dove inside. I prayed for it to start on the first try, for once in my life, and thank god it did. I ensured all my doors were locked before turning on the headlights.

The sight before me made me scream. An older, larger woman was in front of my car. In my panic, I was struggling to shift into reverse, giving her a chance to hobble to my door. Through the glass, I could hear her wailing, “You gotta light!? You gotta light for my cigarette!?” She was pounding on the window, begging for a light.

I did not care. I threw the car into reverse and whipped the fuck out of there. I was going about ninety on the highway, wanting to put as much space between me and this Waffle House as possible. It was all a bad dream, I told myself, a manifestation of my anxiety. Seeing my apartment complex in my headlights felt like salvation, and I knew this was all behind me. Now, more than ever, I craved a Modelo. I took a moment in my car to just breathe. Everything was going to be alright, I assured myself. It was all fine. Mason was just scaring me for fun, Todd was obviously mentally ill, that woman was probably on drugs. It was just a weird night. I was letting my fear of storms make everything into a horror movie.

Once I’d stopped shaking, I started for my apartment. Typically, I never paid attention to anything in the lobby, least of all the mess of papers that littered the billboard. There was usually all the same shit: local ads, lost pets, and missing people. The same things you’d see at a Walmart or a post office, or anywhere else. I’d seen it all so much that it melted into the background in my day to day life.

But tonight, it caught my eye. A missing person’s flyer with a photo of a guy looking vaguely like myself. Brodie Wells, it read. Brodie. My heart sunk as I ripped it off and inspected it closer. Behind Brodie’s flyer was another, very similarly formatted. Another young guy, looking like an outsider. And another. And another. There were over twenty of them-- all within ten years of age from each other, all not dressing like the townsfolk I'd seen here, and all missing in this area. All last seen around that Waffle House by those woods. They were also all tourists, visitors-- just like myself. I brought all the flyers to my unit with me, laying them all over my floor to get a better look. This kidnapper definitely had a type. Or was it a kidnapper?

I pulled open my laptop and started researching each name, and everything came back the same. No trace of any of them, and this had been going on for years. Two of them had an ounce more of information on them, as their names were better known. They had public profiles, so there was much more on their case. They were also tourists, but they looked different from the kidnappers' victim type. They were in town for some YouTube video project, and apparently, one recommended they film out the woods in the area after a dinner at Waffle House. For years, nothing ever came up about them, until a hiker’s dog came running out of the woods with a human bone. One that was so smooth, it was as if all flesh had been cooked away. Those were the article's exact words. Soon, another bone was found, and both were DNA matched to a pair of missing YouTubers named Hunter and Isaiah. But that was years ago, and they were never explicitly tied to other missing persons cases. Despite the differences, I found connections. Were these the first victims? Did they put up too much of a fight, perhaps? The one did look a little intimidating, like he didn't trust strangers. Maybe he'd fought back? My heart was pounding and my mind went back to Waffle House.

Mama’s in one of her moods. What was the mood? Homicidal? Damn it, Mason, that’s not something to ride out! I decided to try and call the police, but my phone was dead at this point. Surely, there was a public phone in the lobby. I raced downstairs for it, but to my dismay, the line was dead. Had the storm taken it out? It had picked back up again, the thunder rattling the whole building as it sounded. The lights flickered before also going out, and now, it was pitch black. The only light came from the occasional flashes of lightning.

That’s how I saw her, standing in that glass doorway. As shadows unnaturally danced about in the same way they did in that parking lot, I saw her silhouette and a glimpse of her face, but there was no mistaking it. It was the same woman, and my only saving grace was the door being locked from the inside. She was pounding on the glass once more, begging to be let in.

“Come on, now, boy, you can spare a light!,” she begged, somehow yelling loud enough that I could hear her clearly through the glass. Her fist was pounding on it in a jarring display of strength, sending echoing booms through the quiet lobby. I couldn't see a thing in the dark to find where I was going, and I stood frozen in fear. I was hoping the lock would hold and that the rain soaking her would make her give up.

A million things ran through my mind. Mason really was a freak, but he was trying to be nice, wasn't he? Was he trying to save me? He seemed to know, and yet, he seemed to have a soft spot for Todd. Was Todd an unwilling accomplice? Were Mason's comments nothing more than to get me to either leave sooner, or pay attention to him? It seemed Marilyn, my waitress, was trying to keep me distracted too. Did they not want me to look out the window? Was that how this Mama spotted me? I lived my life in near constant fear of everyone around me that I missed those who maybe had good intentions at heart. How I regretted that now.

All at once her pounding stopped, and I thought for sure she was done. But she suddenly pressed her face to the glass, and a long flash of lightning illuminated her unholy grin. She's not human, I thought to myself. She couldn't be.

“You'd make a lovely corpse!,” she yelled, and it sent chills through me.

It wasn't just because of those harrowing words. It was because I could hear her much clearer now. The door was open, the glass shattered around her frail, twitching frame. Her skin hung on her like kudzu hangs on an abandoned home, and her teeth were unnaturally large and white as she grinned maniacally. I was frozen before the sound of shuffling glass against the bottom of her slippers pushed me into action. Her eyes shone like a predator’s, and I had to act to live.

All I could do now was run.

[crossfitandcarbs]

Good weekend was good.

🐕 Took the dogs out Friday afternoon as well as Saturday evening. Crazy to think that my Saturday nights used to be all about staying out to 4am and drinking copious amounts of alcohol. Cut to last night the bf and I took the dogs for a walk around a lake and debated whether or not we should get frozen yoghurt afterwards. 😅 We also made 'healthy' burgers for dinner and I forced him to watch another episode of Buffy with me.

🐶 Thor decided to jump into the drivers seat of the car for some reason.

💪 I am also very impressed with the weight I did for snatches at the gym Saturday morning. I only did 3 sessions last week because my sleep was awful. Looking forward to getting back into a proper routine this week.

🌧 It rained a lot this morning and it made me so happy! The weather has been absolutely shit house (so hot) and my poor little plants really needed an extra soaking.

🐇 Can you BELIEVE it's Easter in 2 weeks?? Keen for an extra long weekend.

🥘 Food prepped for about an hour and a half this morning to set my week up for success.

🌸 This meme is hands down the best use of that format I've ever seen. #iykyk

[umflowers]

......well shit. i linked the article, since norris, leclerc, albon and piastri all weighed in about how it'd affect fp1 if it comes to fruition. [image id: screenshot of motorsport.com article. headline reads "F1 drivers set to face 'dangerous' 80 km/h gusts of wind at zandvoort' sub-headline reads 'f1 drivers braced for big challenge amid weather warning for zandvoort on friday' /end id]

[talia-rumlow]

Home Sweet Home (AU Rumlow X Reader) Chapter One - Something Just Like This!

So, since I´ve gained a few Callan Mulvey fans as followers lately, I decided to start to post this story even if I´m not quite finished posting My Saviour yet. I hope you enjoy reading this story, just as much as I enjoy writing it. Every chapter in this story will be named after a song. And I strongly advice you to listen to the song, and you´ll get a better feel of the chapter

Pairing: Brock Rumlow (Mechanic ex Military Brock) X Reader

Word Count: 1825

Summary: Reader is Jack Rollins 20 year old daughter. Brock Rumlow is Jack Rollins 46 year old best friend.

Warnings: Age-Gap (no explicit material yet)

DISCLAIMER: This is an AU story. But I still don´t own any of the MARVEL characters, only my original ones.

HAPPY READING!

Shit, the weather man wasn't lying when he said this would be a hot day. You lock the door to work, and move towards your car. Why did you chose to move back to Texas again? Oh, yeah. Because your boss in New York was a total asshole, and so was your mothers new boyfriend. So you had no choice but to ask your dad if you could stay with him.

Thankfully he said yes, although you suspected that he didn't like it too much. You moving into his house, taking parts of his private life away. But he gave you a job, doing inventory at his delivery business. And he sometimes took long trips to deliver stuff, so you had the house to yourself now and then.

Like now. Your dad was on a trip to Chicago, and would be gone for at least another week. Perfect, with these temperatures the air condition would probably stop working. And you had no idea how to fix it. At least you had a pool in your backyard, you could cool off there.

Thank God it's Friday, and you have two days off work. You could really use a beer right about now. The only problem, you're only 20. It's stupid really. You've been able to drive a car since you were 16, but you can't buy beer. You could try, but the Rollins name is a well known name in these parts, so you probably won't be able too. Well, let's hope your dad have something in his liquor cabinet at home.

You open the drivers door to your car, and the hot air from inside hits you like fire. Fuck. You roll down your windows the instant you turn on your car. You'd never be able to drive home otherwise. You crank up the music, before you start to drive home.

It's not long, about a 15 minutes drive. But you feel like it takes forever. You just want to get back home, and change into a bikini or something, and chill by the pool. You can feel your shirt sticking to your back, as you turn into the driveway. A PickUp truck is parked in your spot, and the garage door is open. Your dad didn't say anything about visitors. Is someone breaking in?

You park the car, and turn off the engine, before you slowly exit the car. Should you call the cops? Probably not, at least see who it is first. Your dad is well off, and that is well known around these parts. Someone could break in. Maybe you should call.

You pick up your phone, and call 911.

- 911 what's your emergency?

A lady answers.

- Yeah, it's YN Rollins, I think someone is breaking into my house.

You're almost whispering, hiding behind the PickUp truck.

- Ok, stay where you are, mam. What's your address?

You give her your address.

- I'll send a car right away. Do you know if they're armed?

Armed? Fuck, you didn't think of that.

- No, I don't know!

You answer.

- Ok, mam. Do you have any firearms in the house?

Do you have firearms? This is fricking Texas, of course you have firearms.

- Mam, Do you have firearms in your house?

The lady asks again.

- Yes! We have some.

You answer.

- A car will be at your address in ten minutes. Just stay where you are mam.

You hang up, and almost immediately after you hear something falling to the floor in the garage. Sounds like something metal. You move towards the sound. You know they told you to stay put, but you're too curious not to.

You fish your pepperspray up from your purse, and take a hold of it. You've been carrying pepperspray for some time now. New York at night isn't exactly the safest place for young girls. And pepperspray made you feel a bit safer. Around these parts, no one dared to mess with you. The Rollins name came with a deep respect in Texas.

You keep moving towards the sounds in the garage, slowly, careful not to make any noise. You kinda hope that the cops will arrive before you encounter whoever's in your garage. Maybe you should call your dad? No, he'd probably be scared out of his mind for you, and double back.

You keep moving towards the sound. What the fuck are they stealing? Your dads tools? God, please don't have a gun. As you enter the garage, you can see someone moving. You prepare your pepperspray.

Just a couple more steps..

You lift your pepperspray, as you round the corner.

- The cops are on their way!

You yell, as you lift the pepperspray, spraying the persons face. He screams, covering his face.

- YN! What the hell are you doing?

He says, desperately trying to shield his face.

- Brock?

You say, surprised.

- God, I'm so sorry!

You continue, as you hand him a bottle of water for him to wash some of the pepperspray of.

- What are you doing here?

- I'm fixing Jacks car. But no one told me that I was in danger of being peppered down.

He says, pouring water on his face.

- God, Brock. I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were like... Going to be here.

You take a look at his face. Thankfully he got to wash most of it off, but he's still red around the eyes.

- So, do you usually carry pepperspray and spray people down?

He asks.

- This is actually the first time I've used it. I'm sorry...

- Well, I'm honoured!

He says, with a smile. Thank God, for Brocks humor.

Sirens approaching. You suddenly feel really embarrassed.

- Wait? You called the cops on me?

Brock looks at you.

- I'm sorry. I tell them it was a mistake.

You walk out of the garage, Brock follows.

- You sure know how to welcome people, YN!

You feel beyond embarrassed when you tell the officers about the mistake.

You actually called the cops on Brock. Your dads best friend. Someone you've known your entire life. You still remember how Brock used to tell the best stories, when you came to visit your dad. Brock is no thief. How come you didn't check who it was first? This hot weather is messing with your mind.

When the cops leaves, you turn towards Brock again. He is shirtless, his toned skin glistening with sweat, and his work pants resting on his hips, revealing the lining of his boxers. Some dark spots here and there on his upper body and his face, probably from the oil. Fucking God! Did he look this good the last time you saw him?

- Look at you! All grown up!

He says.

- Err.. Yeah.. You too.. Err.. I mean...

You have no idea what to say. His looks. God. Like straight out of heaven.

- Hey, don't think about the pepperspray..

He says, giving you a hug.

- Or the cops..

He continues.

- Well, you can feel a bit bad for the pepperspray.

He adds.

- Oh my God!

You say, looking at his face again. He's flaming red around the eyes.

- I'll help you with that. Just come inside, and I'll see what I can do to help.

In the living room, you tell him to sit down on the couch, before you go and grab some soap and shampoo from the bathroom, to rinse with.

You sit down next to him, using some of your supplies to wash his face. You try not to look at his bare upper body, but it's almost impossible. His muscles, six pack. Some tattoos on his upper arms. Have he been working out like 12 times a week? It should be illegal to look this good.

- At least there is nothing wrong with your aim.

He suddenly says. You're so focused on not to look at him, that his voice makes you jump.

- Huh?

You say.

- Although you should work on your welcoming skills.

He laughs a bit. You always liked Brocks humor. He always made you laugh when you were younger. But now, in this particular situation, he makes you extremely nervous.

- Well, no one told me you'd be around. I thought you were a burglar!

He laughs again.

- At least I can tell Jack, that he doesn't need to get a guard dog.

Finally you manage to laugh with him. You laugh until your stomach and your chin hurts. Before you once again look at him. The red around the eyes looks a bit better now. You lift your hand, and touch his temple.

- Does it hurt?

He smiles.

- I'll live. Hey. I have some beers in my truck. Say we have some, and forget about this whole burglary thing.

- I...

You start.

- I know you're only 20, YN. But I know for a fact that never stopped Jack. If it did, I don't think you'd even be born. So I know he won't mind.

You smile, and nod.

You always had a good almost friend like relationship with your parents friends. Could be because they were really young when you were born. It's only 20 years between you and your dad, and only 18 between you and your mom. So when you reached 16, and started to drive, you actually picked them up from parties. Probably not the best parental work. But you didn't mind. You actually thought it was cool, and your friends thought so too.

- I'm just gonna have a shower. Looks like you could use one as well.

You gather all the supplies from before, and walk towards the bathroom.

- Just let me know when you're done. Want some food?

You can hear him say, when you lock the bathroom door behind you.

- There's a menu on the fridge!

You yell back, before you eagerly get out of your sweaty work clothes.

When you come out of the shower again, you realise that you didn't bring new clothes. Fuck! This whole heatwave thing, and Brock all sweaty and sexy really messed with your mind. You wrap a towel around you, and carefully open the door. Brock isn't in the living room. Thank God for that, you hurry up the stairs, and towards your room.

When you're almost at your door, the door to the upstairs bathroom opens, and Brock comes out, wet from the shower with a towel around his waist. You jump so much that you choke on your own saliva, and calf like crazy. Brock pats your back.

- Hey, you OK? I didn't mean to scare you.

You look at him again. Fuck that body, and with wet hair. God! How old is he now? 40? No, he's older than your dad. 44? 46? Stop it, YN!

- Yes, I'm fine.. I Just need some clothes.

He looks at you, concerned.

- Meet you downstairs then. The food will be here soon.

You walk into your room, and put on some new clothes. Food? Drinks? What is this? Like a date?

@nekoannie-chan @late-to-the-party-81 @bat-mar @rip1009 @here4thefanfics @there-goes-thefighter @ladysif8

Check out the Home Sweet Home Masterlist HERE!

Check out My Frank Grillo Masterlist HERE!

Next Chapter

[myimaginarywonderland]

So, I am going to make my stance very clear on this because I just read a wonderful article (linked below for anyone that is also interested)

Free practice is essential and the argument that F2/F3 has less doesn't make it any less essential. F2 and F3 have always been behind when it comes to innovations, changes etc. as people have always favoured F1 and it's always been a huge problem how those grids had less safety measures etc. The treatment of F2 and F3 has always been horrible especially when you consider they get essentially no way of communicating their wished as they have nothing like the GPDA. They should. Just as they also should have more free practice time.

But in the end, what F2 and F3 has that F1 doesn't is there cars are all much more similar. That still doesn't take away from the fact that they should have more practice but it gives a different perspective on why they don't. Yes set up still makes a huge difference but you have similar comparisons in certain things something that you don't have in F1 because the cars from F1 teams are all complelty different while F2/F3 at least share some similarities. F1 engineering I would argue (and I hope everyone agrees with me) is more complicated than for many other categories and especially when you have such a different car from others, you need more time to test set ups, be sure in strategies etc. to maximise performance.

I definitely agree that F2 and F3 should have more free practice because they also deserve more running time. But the grid is different than an F1 grid.

Another point that he made is sprint races which apparently we have to get into again so here it goes: Sprint races are shit. I don't care that it's an opportunity to get points and I don't care that it might be cool once in a while. If it's on Friday you can make the same argument that goes for Free Practice which is: Who will have time to watch it or rather who wants to watch it? The problem with Free practice is that it falls on a day where many people have work or similar things like university which makes them miss out. And yes I have seen the argument that some fans won't watch it which is totally fan! But do we really think they will watch sprint races? The problem is just like a normal race a sprint race really doesn't do much in terms of positions unless something crazy happens. There's usually nothing to gain from sprint unless a car breaks down etc. I also don't think drivers should get the chance to get a better position before a race if they messed up their qualy. Moving on from that because I don't know why it was brought up and I don't know what relevance it has on this discussion other than being another dumb decision by the FIA which punishes backmarkers who might have had good luck in a qualy.

Jake Hughes (a current FE driver) did a great tweet about what George said that actually focuses on something he criticises. Yes F2 and F3 should get more practice.

No, that doesn't mean F1 should have less.

Also I would not talk about the amount of "extra" races F1 has because that's a whole different problem. The extra races also don't benefit? Every track needs the same amount of practice because they are all different (asphalt temperature, hot temperature in general, possible weather conditions etc.)

So in one line: I strongly disagree with what George said, I don't understand why he said most of those things and Max once again looks out more for his team and driving than most other drivers apparently.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2009 It’s been a very peaceful Halloween being out in the woods and away from pesky civilization. It was also quiet today between Jesse’s being home and the weather being warmer.

Didn’t do all that great on tonight’s German lesson but am 75% through 101 with a 92% accuracy rate.

Some people laugh at my use of the word “only.” Such as when I said I was currently fluent in only 3 languages, and when I described a certain day back in Arizona as being mild and only 108º. A cashier who once drooled with envy when I could sit on my hair cracked up when I spoke of the days it was only to my waist.

I was thinking I should get if not a California license, then at least a California ID. I think I’ve been living in California with an Arizona driver’s license with an Oregon address on it long enough.

I also think I should get my own debit card. It’s never good to keep money in just one place anyway, and if anyone’s learned this the hard way a couple of years ago, it’s us.

Meanwhile, November’s when we get his Mac back, December’s when we get my new glasses (or contacts if I can get up the guts to try them), plus other things we could use around here, then January is when we begin to save, save and save! By June I estimate will have enough for a new vehicle if this one crapped out and wasn’t worth fixing. By next December I estimate we’ll have that plus 3-4 months of rent saved.

Right now we’re thinking the best time to go to Italy will be when we’re waiting for our new house to go through and all that. A few months before I know when we’re going for sure I’ll really push for fluency with the Italian. It shouldn’t take long since I know other romance languages and the general rules of how they work. My brain is also wired for that sort of thing anyway.

So now we learn that the healthcare reform thing was basically just a joke, though I pretty much figured as much from the get-go. Tom was all excited about it, but as I tried to tell him, “Don’t be so naive, gullible and quick to believe everything you read! People love to make false promises. Especially at a time when people are so down on their luck and need to hear anything that sounds good to help keep them going. Meanwhile, nobody’s gonna give us shit. Our government cares more about taking care of other countries and not its own people. We have to wait till we’re 65 to get insurance because you sure as hell won’t be getting any job that offers insurance IF you can ever get another job again in the first place.”

As much as I hate cold weather, sometimes I think we ought to just take the Macs, laptop, stereo, iPod, maybe the camera, some clothes and some toiletries like shampoo and toothpaste, leave everything we can’t sell, then head on up to Canada where they insure everyone. But I know we wouldn’t survive the transition and I don’t know that they do retirement communities.

I’m just so worried about our future! The present might look better with the MT and all that, but the long-term future just looks so incredibly bleak. :( I fear that instead of “going home” in 3 years we’ll be killing ourselves instead in about 2 years if there are still no jobs when his extensions run out and we don’t want to be total street bums.

Thanks, God. Thank you so much for caring about my husband and I. Your love for us really shows.

Meanwhile, I’m not going to “try” to get to a dentist and I’m not going to “hope” for one either! That’s just no fucking way to have to live. Do you know how many things could go wrong with a person’s health in 21 years on top of the dental problems they may already have?! Well, if we survive this recession in the first place that’s how long I’ve got till I can get Medicare. :(

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 30, 2009 Made a couple of bucks in less than 5 minutes and am slowly going blond while I’m at it. Well, semi-blond. Blond is my least favorite hair color, but gray is also the ugliest color in the world. I still don’t have much gray; just a little at the temples and forehead plus a few sprinkles elsewhere. But I thought that if I lightened it up little by little the gray roots wouldn’t stand out as much. I’m not going to lighten it too much, though, because I simply wouldn’t look good as a blond either way. Right now, between the last dye job and the California sunshine, it’s a light golden brown.

The good news is that I’m easily going to beat my $100 goal for the month of October. As soon as I get everything that’s pending, plus whatever else I’ll make today and tomorrow, I should be closer to $130 - $150. Between the two of us, it’s like getting his pension money early, plus more!

It’s neat to get paid to write articles and various things that get published in magazines and online, plus other kinds of jobs I do in both English and Spanish. Nothing in Italian or Portuguese yet, though I’m not as good yet in those languages or with German. The German classes have slowed down since I’ve been busy working, but weekends are slower so that’s when I usually catch up on things like that.

Got a letter from Rosa. She made me a Halloween card. I sent her the notes we swapped late one night so as not to wake Tina up by talking out loud and she was amazed that I kept it all these years.

She said she misses home, of course, and her son and mom, but that she tries to keep busy. She said people are always at her door wanting her to make birthday cards or cards for other occasions, and she’s usually tired by the time she’s alone. I didn’t know you could be “alone” anymore in prison than you could be in jail. She’s lucky if that’s the case.

It’s been chilly at night, but the days have been warm and sunny. We might even hit 80º in a few days. :)

Tom called Jesse shortly after I got up today at 11:00 and let him know that he discovered that he hadn’t turned the cooler valve off all the way so that’s why water was running off. There’s also a leak in the plastic line which Jesse says he’ll replace, but as Tom told him, there’s no reason that can’t wait till next year. I still think there’s a gap in the roof by the door too, and that it’ll leak in front of the door when it rains.

I just don’t see how Jesse could’ve seen the water dripping onto the porch from his place like he claims. Maybe with binoculars, but I don’t see how he could see it through all the trees and brush.

Speaking of trees, he’s also going to be dragging a dead tree by our place at some point which I’m sure will have to be when I’m asleep. The bulldozer is broken down right now so he has to fix it first.

I just wish he would do something to shut his fucking dogs up when he leaves! Three times I had to yell at them after he left on the motorcycle around noon. I was so glad to hear him come back just before 2:00. But it’s Friday night so he might still go get shitfaced somewhere. I’m sure the dogs will let me know it if he does.

The whole thing just makes me want to get our own dog even more. If we have to listen to barking every place we go, why not have it be our own for once? It’s like when neighbors blast music. People figure that if they’ve got to hear music for a while it may as well be their own, and so they join right in. We’ve also had a string of bad luck with rats ever since Tinkerbell died, and I like the idea of having something that lives longer than two years. But I don’t like not having a doggy door or an enclosed yard!

I’ve decided not to renew my Webshots membership this year, though they do say you can store up to 1000 pics with a free membership and I’ve got 993, so my pics will still be there. I’m just sick of all the holiday pics! Who the hell needs a dozen Halloween pics and so far in advance of the actual date? It’s worth saving $30, even if it means losing out on some of the better premium pro shots. I’m also archiving my pics in Yahoo either way.

Kiwi’s to launch 3.0 on Monday, something no one’s at all happy about.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2009 My entries have really been lacking, haven’t they? Work’s been so good that I’ve been pretty busy. Initially, I set a goal of $3.25 a day so I could make $100 a month. Then I started to think I’d be lucky to get just $2.00 a day. Lately, however, I’ve been making $10-$15 a day! Not bad for a few hours of work in the comfort of home. So while I may not be God’s little princess, I ain’t His poor-ass bum anymore either! Hopefully, He’ll go beat on someone else’s head with money for a good long time and leave ours alone. It’s people who don’t give a damn and who don’t want to work that deserve to struggle. Not us! As I told God the other day, “Yo, do you think we’re Puerto Rican or something? Well, we’re not and we really do want to work!”

But sadly there won’t be many new jobs coming around this area for quite some time to come, so it’s nice to at least be able to work online for once and make more than a few cents a day. So now our monthly income should be around $1600 a month, plenty comfortable with our rent being only about half of that. We were even able to have the tank filled with propane today for $200. So 120 gallons of that should keep us set till early February. I had just gotten up when the guy came.

I also got to wake up to the tune of barking, too. Yeah, lucky me, huh? It’s really sad that we have to deal with this in every place we live, but that’s the west for you. And it’s not going to stop with an adult community either, should we ever make it into one. But it’s the only place we can buy something without the loud music and kids in the picture as well. I’m surprised Whiskey didn’t go on and on all day, but I’m sure that the colder it gets, the more he’ll bark. It’s obviously a temperature/seasonal thing.

Jesse left a message saying he noticed the water dripping onto the porch just in front of the door we use. Tom will call him tomorrow after he goes up on the roof to see what he can see. It’s probably coming from the cooler even though we turned the water off for the year. Jesse also did a shitty job on the porch roof. At least the part by the door. There’s obviously a gap somewhere up there for the water to be able to get through in the first place.

What scares me is knowing that this could all be for nothing; this saving up money and all that. Maybe his extensions will run out in a couple of years and maybe there still won’t be any jobs and maybe the government will decide not to give any more extensions. After all, they’ve got to send our money to other countries. Fuck their own people. I mean, what do we deserve? We’re only from here.

As for a dentist, I’ve given up. I totally give up on being teased with the prospect of ever seeing a dentist. I’ve simply resigned myself to the fact that I’m not going to ever see one and therefore I’ve quit hoping for that. I said to myself the other day, “Face it, Jodi, if you were meant to see one you’d have seen one by now. It’s obviously not going to happen, so move on to something that’s doable.”

IDK, maybe something up there just doesn’t feel I deserve to see a dentist, or maybe it just doesn’t give a damn. All I know is that even though we’re doing much better, we’re never going to have that kind of money or insurance since they’d obviously rather just talk about healthcare reform and not actually do anything about it. If the fucking government cared about its own people any more than it did terrorists in Palestine, they’d already have given us insurance. I know no one’s gonna get shit and I’m not going to let myself be belittled, in a sense, with this impossible dream of seeing a lousy dentist. Besides, I have gone this long on my own after all, and I can just take a pain reliever when they really get on my nerves. The teeth still have to die sooner or later anyway, don’t they? Either way, sometimes you want to do something for so long, but you can never do it for whatever reason, and so you finally just give up altogether. Even if I were suddenly insured by some miracle, I’m tired of even thinking of dentists! I’ll get by on my own.

I think the same thing happened with the idea of having a kid. I wanted one for years and I believed I was infertile after years of not being able to conceive. Then one day I had a miscarriage and by then I was so damn sick of the subject that I just didn’t care. So it wasn’t just about me deciding I wanted to keep my life and my freedom. Yeah, that was part of it. But when one anticipates something for so long it just has a way of getting old and wearing off. The only thing I can’t imagine fading with time is the desire to own our own home, preferably one that isn’t a million years old. But maybe it will. Maybe I’ll decide I like renting trashy old trailers by the time he finally turns 55. I just wouldn’t count on that one! Contrary to some people’s beliefs, though, we only have so much control over our destiny and can only be in the driver’s seat so much. All we can do is try our best to achieve what we want. The rest is up to fate. If we’re not meant to have a home – and I would say that being run out of one and losing two others would be a good indicator of what’s in our cards – then there’s not much we can do about it.

For the first time ever I wanted to hug Obama. That’d be when he signed the first federal gay rights law. I nearly fainted with shock when I read about it what with all the false promises those in politics usually make. I definitely can’t say all blacks are like the ones who victimized me for being white and Jewish and asking that they keep their music and trash off our property. I wonder why the change of heart, though, as he sure did a good job of coming off as quite a bigot in saying he thought marriage should be between a man and a woman. To hear someone say that may be sick, but it’s even sicker to hear this from a black person of all people who should know firsthand what it’s like to be discriminated against. I could’ve sworn he said he thought marriage should be between a man and a woman, but that he didn’t hate gays and I was like, then why would you want to exclude them from anything? If you don’t hate someone, you wouldn’t want to suppress their rights as far as I’m concerned.

Ok, this entry’s getting to be kind of long, longer than I expected, so I’m calling it a night for now. Fatso Ratso and Mr. Ratitude will no doubt want their dinner by now.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 27, 2009 I’m actually writing this entry by hand which I plan to type up later when the power is back on. I was sitting at the kitchen table finishing up my breakfast (Tom was still asleep) when the power suddenly died. This was around 7:00. So I called up to Jesse and he didn’t have any power either. The question is whether or not they’re working on something or if the big windstorm we’re supposed to have knocked the power out. I just hope it’s back on soon cuz it’s 62º in here! At this time of year, we don’t get any direct sunlight till around 11:00 being up against the mountain where the sun rises, and so it’ll be quite a while before it even hits 70º in here.

I almost feel like I’m being compensated for all the money I made yesterday. Yeah, yesterday was a great workday. Lots of easy jobs with better pay than usual.

Anyway, after I threw on my mom’s jammies which I appreciate immensely since I haven’t owned a pair in years, I made some hot tea. The bottoms threatened to slip off while I was at it, but I got by. I also threw on one of her sweatshirts, another thing I appreciated. I hate long sleeves, so between that and living in warm climates, I haven’t had much in the way of long sleeves either.

Hey, I’ve been keeping a journal for exactly 22 years now! On this very day 22 years ago I went to the Enfield mall with Jenny (I can’t believe I had such stuck-up selfish friends like her, but most of us do at 21) and got my first journal in 1987. I wrote by hand until 1993 when I met Tom.

Ok, back on track now. After my tea, I realized I had only 4 things I could do. I could eat. I could work out. I could listen to my iPod. Or I could lie in bed bored out of my freaking mind. I decided to write instead.

Later on, we’re going to get burgers and fries. I could light our propane stove/oven with a lighter, but I’ve been craving burgers and fries anyway. I also lost another pound, so why not?

My hand is cramping up on me because I’m not used to writing by hand so I’ll stop for now.

Whiskey just went off for a bit so Jesse must’ve left. I didn’t see the freeloaders’ dogs so I guess it just must be that time of year.

Later…

It turned out to be a pretty fun day. We left around 11:00 for Carl’s Jr. Their burgers and fries are scrumptious! The place was clean, warm, sunny and surprisingly quiet.

Then we browsed through the Goodwill store since it was close by and I grabbed some more incense.

When we returned the power was back on and now the place is just beautiful with all the afternoon sunshine and the windows open. We definitely won’t need the cooler today, though. There’s a beautiful breeze out today too, but it’s not as windy here as it was in town being nestled against the mountainside like we are.

That’s it for now. Off to work I go!

MONDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2009 Jesse didn’t work last week, but he’s working this week. Whiskey went off at 8:00. Gee, it must be coming up on November. :( I had just started putting lotion on my feet and decided that I’d go out and yell up at him if he was still going off when it dried, but he stopped. Still, I’m afraid it’s just a little sneak preview of the shit I’m going to have to listen to until April. It sucks too, not just because excessive barking is no fun to have to deal with no matter what, but it’s going to really distract me from my work.

Tom just got up now and is bogging the net watching a show so that’s why I’m catching up on my writing and proofreading now. I love the guy, but I’m so sick of him being home day after day. Just every single fucking day of every week! I like to be the first one up yet I only get to wake up when he’s asleep 3 times in like 2 weeks. This is the only thing I miss about him having an outside job. I miss having the place to myself at times when he’s not in the way when I’m cleaning or here to distract me from whatever. I would still rather make little money on our own than lots of money with him working elsewhere.

Anyway, I was thinking of the day we own our own place again, have sufficient space, and the freedom to do as we please with it. I really do hope Tom’s right too, and that it does happen! The only dark cloud over the idea is having so much barking so close to us. When I think about it, 90% of the noise we’ve had to live with since being together has been from dogs. I’d say only about 10% of it has been from loud music and kids or excessive car door slamming. But a retirement community is still certainly better than just any community because then we limit the sounds to just barking and maybe some door slamming if they have company 3 times a day like most folks out here seem to.

For the longest time, I’ve been saying there are just two things keeping our lives from being perfect. Lack of money, and worrying about who’s going to take care of us when we get too old to fend for ourselves since we opted out of children in the end. Most of the time we’ve been together we’ve made 30K - 50K a year so we’ll probably have money again at least for a while. It’s the other thing that’s bothered me. It’s easy to say I hope to be the one to die first so I won’t have to be alone and won’t have to deal with the heartache of losing him, but if I were the one to go first, then who would he have by his side in his final days??? Then a simple solution crossed my mind, but it’s not a good one. I’d always hoped we’d each have someone, even if it were just a bunch of indifferent hospital staff, by our sides in the end. However, if we killed ourselves the minute either one of us was diagnosed with something terminal, that’d sure make it easier, wouldn’t it? Ugh, I hate to have to think of it either way and trying to tell myself it’s way too soon to be worrying about shit like that doesn’t always work!

I just might make my goal of $100 after all in my first month at MT. There was a lot of work over the last week, but now it’s slowing down again so I won’t know for sure until the month ends.

I just went out and yelled at Whiskey to be quiet when he started up again and he quieted down right away. But not even a few minutes later he was going off again. I stormed over to the door saying, “What good is the command going to do if it’s only going to work for 10 minutes?!” Then I saw our typical lazy, defiant Mexican neighbors’ dogs back on the loose again. So tomorrow it’s off to call the complaint line again like Jesse told us to for what will no doubt be the fourth time when they’re supposedly supposed to lose them. They’ll just get new dogs to turn loose if they do as that’s just what Mexicans do; they do things their way and their way only, and that’s usually to annoy as many people around them as they possibly can. Then when Tom goes back to work we’ll literally be paying for them to do it, too. Hopefully, today was just an occasional occurrence where the dogs got loose accidentally, but I don’t know. They’ve gotta be just itching to rebel by now. Again I’ll ask, how can these people complain that no one likes them if they’re going to treat people the way they do and be so inconsiderate and rude? Why can’t they be like everyone else around here? Everyone else has been a fine neighbor. No problems there. So if others can behave, why can’t they? The dogs aren’t just annoying with the way they bark and stir up Jesse’s dogs, but these are pitbulls, and pitbulls can be pretty dangerous. They need to be kept tied up and on their own property.

Tom went out and tried to nail them with a rock when they went down into the ditch, and it would’ve been the perfect shot too, had it not hit a tree branch. Figures, huh?

We’re going to have to fire up the heater today. There’s no getting away with it anymore, especially at night now that it’s getting down into the 40s. And we’re also going to have to call the propane guys out soon too, as the tank’s down to 12%. In fact, Tom’s struggling to light the heater now, saying we should get $200 in propane this week. Yeah, AFTER he struggles to light the heater he says will be easy to light if he just removes the spring door while he’s at it. OMG, he got it lit! He really did. I’m impressed.

Down a pound for some reason and that’s really about it. Since I’ve been working my ass off, which is why my entries have been lacking, I’m going to take it easier today and catch up on other things I’ve been neglecting.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 24, 2009 I won a coupon for a free box of those Little Debbie cupcakes Tom loves so much, so that’s cool.

Finally heard from Mary, too. She’s depressed, as expected, but hanging in there. She says the place she’s in now which is in Ft. Lauderdale is so horrible cuz it’s run like a boot camp and the officers there are like drill sergeants and they keep them really busy. She’s also in a huge dorm with 60 people. So much for prison being more comfortable than jail! She did say, however, that they sell radios, soda, coffee and pizza there. So at least she’s got that much to look forward to.

The last paragraph of her letter made me smile. Not just because of the suggestion itself but because I was glad to see she’s at least able to think of – uh – well, these kinds of things despite her predicament, LOL. She said I should write a book with two lesbian lovers and have one be a dominatrix.

I’ll keep that in mind, though I do romantic suspense, and well, a dominatrix hasn’t yet exactly fit any of the roles I’ve had in mind so far for characters, but we’ll see. I haven’t even been writing much of anything in the first place because I’ve been swamped with work. Been doing these transcriptions that are actually of good audio quality for a change, and plugged right into the “hit” as they call it, so there’s no downloading and setup involved or anything like that. But I expect the work will come in waves, so when the jobs are lacking I’ll do other things.

The money’s building up nicely and so is my weight. Yeah, if I don’t quit this shit with all the binging I’ve been doing lately it’s just gonna keep going up and up and up! I’m 126 pounds now.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2009 I hear a garbage truck somewhere off in the distance. It’s obviously coming from down the mountain somewhere, cuz no one this far up the mountain has trash service.

Eileen and I exchanged emails throughout yesterday morning and a little bit into the afternoon. Then she had to get ready to move. I guess moving day is tomorrow.

Anyway, there wasn’t much work and then tons of jobs came flying in. They nearly cracked 100,000 hits. I’ve been working on and off all night, but when tons of hits come in within the same job, I don’t want to get carried away doing too many in case they’re just going to end up rejecting my work. I did some huge writing projects and other piddly little things.

I also think I may now know what’s going on with my heart. Yeah, I forgot about tachycardia, but that seems the most likely. It’s nothing serious; just a bit of a faulty electrical system, though I sure had the palpitations from hell the other day. Normally they just beat really hard for 3-4 beats at a time, but for the first time ever it did this for about a dozen beats. I was just beginning to wonder if it would ever stop when it actually did.

Things have dried up outside and it’s to be back around the 80-degree marker soon, but not fast enough for me.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 20, 2009 So Amber sent me a friend invite on KB. I accepted it, but after having more time to reflect on the issue, I’m not sure forgiving her was the right thing. Yeah, I may like her fiery, outspoken side to a degree, but she’s also pretty unstable at times. Very angry, confrontational, defensive, and downright mean. None of us may be perfect, but she seems to have a ratio of kindness versus meanness that I’m just not into. I’m surprised she’s so sensitive when it comes to animals, for she certainly doesn’t seem to have much compassion for people. So I will be polite, but not friendly.

Eileen sent me a direct email saying she’s moving to Quincy to be closer to her kids and grandkid. This is nice to know and that she didn’t lose her house with all the foreclosures going on out there.

She asked how I decided on “ratgirl” and I told her about how I got hooked on rats.

It’s still kind of funny how my million-year search led others to find her who were also looking for her.

I didn’t get the impression that she’d seen my journal, but that may be a good thing. Eileen doesn’t strike me as a judgmental kind of person, but if you don’t like those who are unique, eccentric, liberal and outspoken, then you won’t like me! And even if you do, I can see where some people may still be unnerved by the idea of someone they know keeping a public journal, even if it’s hardly uncommon these days, and they don’t have anything unkind to say about them.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2009 I wasn’t going to join Ning, the new “safe haven” for shafted and pissed-off Kiwiers, but then said what the hell? And so I joined.

Now I can finally say – after a long, long time of being what’s probably the least forgiving person on earth – that I have forgiven someone whom I’ve gotten into it with in the past online. She may stumble upon this journal and not appreciate her name mentioned here any more than it might have already been mentioned, so I won’t do it unless she says it’s ok to do so.

I think it’s cool that we’ve moved on and I think we both realize that sometimes we tend to get carried away at the mouth because we’re so much alike in that we’re both very outspoken. I also think a lot of people mistake our honesty and bluntness for being rude bitches, but that’s basically what it was about. We pissed each other off by saying things the other didn’t agree with, but I have realized that hey, we’re not in high school and so it’s better to “make up” and move on than to hold stupid grudges over the dumbest of things. She didn’t spite me into jail for verbally laying into her abusive ex as Tammy did. Now THAT’S unforgivable! But if she or a few others I’ve squabbled with on KB were suddenly outside our door, they’d be welcomed in for coffee, tea or whatever. We all make mistakes and say stupid shit we shouldn’t say in the heat of the moment, but looking back on it later on it all seems so silly. Most of all, I think we can be as compassionate as we can be mean, me and this chick, and in the end, humans weren’t created to be perfect in the first place anyway.

So if you’re reading this – yeah, you know who you are, LOL - yeah, you’re a bitch just like me, but you’re a likable bitch at the same time. :) I admire your good traits, so keep on doing what you do best!

I now have a 29” waist – yay! Not the 22”-24” that would be ideal for my height, but I’ll settle for peeling off just a few more inches. My weight is still hovering around the 122-pound marker, though. So now that I’m 36-29-36, I’m really starting to pump iron to get that sculpted, muscular look. Slowly but surely, I’m getting there. My tummy is about 90% flat now, too. :)

That justice of the peace in Louisiana is pretty fucked up for refusing a marriage license to an interracial couple, saying that most interracial marriages fail, and any kids they may have will just be picked on.

Most marriages fail anyway, like it or not, and kids pick on each other all the time if not for one thing, then for something else. Besides, people shouldn’t try to stop others from doing what they want simply cuz of what might happen. I hope they sue him silly cuz it’s their lives, and if they really are making a mistake, it’s theirs to make. People should be able to marry their dogs if that’s what they want.

Later…

Just got a little rain, but at least my ear’s not acting up. I never did get any side effects from yesterday’s Claritin (just my sleep being split up), not even the one I wanted which is where I lose my appetite. I still only had about 800 calories yesterday, though today it’s leaning more towards 1200.

Got a message from Dorian, my number-one fan. He always puts a smile on my face. Damn, that guy can write!

Eileen accepted the friend invite just as I was getting pretty sure she either never got it or decided to avoid me for some reason, saying she didn’t realize she had to accept it. I didn’t realize this at first either, I told her.

She sold her house and is packing, but didn’t say where she’s going. I hope she’s ok! I gave her my email addy in case she’d rather keep in touch that way since she doesn’t use Facebook regularly. She did say that due to my finding her more Naomi people are contacting her. Oops. I’m sorry if I may’ve opened up a can of pests! Nah, she probably doesn’t mind. I did notice we had a mutual friend, though. I don’t remember this person, though I’m not surprised she remembers me. I was quite a little monster, no doubt, even though I was only there for all of 5 minutes, LOL!

After saying hi to Emma and Amber on Ning, I swapped messages with Susan. I told her I was totally on her side about the launching of 3.0 and that I believed her when she said Mike got screwed over (he’s there too, and I said hello to him as well) and tried to fight to stop it from happening, but those assholes in Germany are hell-bent on taking over. Despite any disagreements, we sort of became like one big family over there and yeah, you really can make friends online that you’ve never met and never will. So I know how they feel.

Susan replied saying she quit all her jobs there when Mike left and that he was the main reason she stayed on as long as she did, thanked me for my support, and said it was nice to see me there. I doubt I’ll be there that often, though, since I won’t be journaling there, but I’ll drop in every now and then to say hello to people.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2009 Ah, it is so nice to get paid for my writing for once! Been doing qualification tests and they’ve decided I’m best at writing and so I should be given writing jobs. Gee, I wonder why, LOL! I just wish I could do more transcriptions, though I can’t do many because they’re just too hard to hear. Oh well, I’m still doing pretty good seeing that I’m coming up on $60 counting pending jobs.

I might not get much work done tonight and not just because it’s slower on weekends, but because I’ll be drunk on Claritin D. Yeah, that’s why I’m hurrying up and doing this entry now; before it sets in and makes me dizzy, drowsy, light-headed, jittery, and a true insomniac at heart. The side effects are a killer, but the stuff really does work. I also love how it kills my appetite, too. It’s no wonder they made it illegal to obtain in some states without a prescription. I can totally see how it’d be every druggy and anorexic’s dream come true. I took it a couple of days ago and barely ate 500 calories all day. The worst side effect is the bizarre dreams you have if you can get to sleep in the first place. I slept horribly on Thursday. It’s like I never fully fell asleep, but just remained sort of on the edge of sleep and wakefulness. The next day I let myself get caught up, but since my ear started acting up again today I decided to take another Claritin, even though I’ll be just as sorry as I will be glad that I did.

I’m enjoying this toasty warm night we’re having before it cools down and clouds up yet again so more bugs can invade the place.

That’s pretty much it. Been doing a wonderful job of neglecting my stories and am even slacking off on my German lessons, but I might get around to it tonight, depending on how much of a Claritin haze I’m in. The side effects do eventually go away, but it takes a while and I’d rather not have to be on the stuff that long in the first place.

Think I’ll go check out what new jobs may be in and then do a little proofreading.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 16, 2009 Wow, I made a buck fifty in just 3 minutes writing a 200-word article reviewing our local pet store. It’s nice to finally get paid for my writing! I’ll bet I made more doing that than I would have had I let them publish my manuscript for just pennies while the publishing company kept most of the dough.

Anyway, I’m over $40 now. Sometimes the work comes in steady streams, sometimes it seems like hours go by before anything new comes in that I’m qualified to do, which they’ve decided is mostly writing projects. Gee, I wonder why?

Now I’m thinking my ear might be affected by humidity as well. It’s hot again here, but still kind of humid for this area. It got on my nerves enough to take a nightmare pill for it. Yeah, that’s what I call the Claritin D. Benadryl doesn’t help much, so I took Claritin instead, even though it fucks with my sleep and causes nightmares. I laughed when I first read that side effect, unable to see how medication could do that to you, but I don’t mind being chased by ax-wielding zombies for a few minutes if that’s what it takes to relieve the pressure I get when the tube that runs between the inner ear and throat gets congested.

Anyway, it’s after 4am and I’ve got the fan on and the window open. Now that’s how California should always be! Ah, but sadly, it’s to cool down and cloud up again soon. It’s December through February that I’m really not looking forward to.

I’m burning Cool Water incense now which smells like lavender.

Less than two weeks ago I only knew a few German words and now I know dozens. The jail Germ, as I’d refer to her, would be impressed. That’d be the 60-year-old thief I was in jail with whom I both liked and hated. She drove me crazy cuz she’d always pace back and forth across the little two-man cell we were in, but she sure had a lot of interesting stories to tell about her life back in Germany before she married the American soldier she married. She was small like me, but that was Ad-Seg for you – home of the high-profile child abusers and the undersized.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 15, 2009 The German lessons are going really well, though some of those looooong words can be tough to pronounce. Currently, I am fluent in 3 languages, knowledgeable in 2, and now I’m learning German. I don’t know that I’ll add any more languages to my list after this. I think managing 6 languages is enough work!

Mary’s 32 today. I just hope she’s ok and that I hear from her when we go to pick up our mail on Friday. That’s when the rats’ new bottle will be there, so that’s why we’re going then. Then we won’t go again till next Thursday when the check should be there.

We got slammed with rain and so Jesse was bulldozing the drive from what it sounded like when I got up. I figured he would. That first rain of the year really messes things up. I just hope the dogs don’t go losing in November like they did last November.

My ear’s been acting up since it got cooler and rainy, so maybe it’s a temperature or humidity thing besides an elevation issue. It’s supposed to be warm and sunny again, though. As it is I haven’t needed any heat tonight. It’s coming up on 2am, yet it’s 77º in here.

The Turk’s kind of slow today, though I’m coming up on $40 and still have hundreds of jobs pending. I’ve submitted over 1100 now.

Tom’s looking forward to getting his Mac back in a few weeks so he can do more transcriptions and make money a lot faster. We figured out that all we need is $45 a day to make it on our own. I doubt the Turk would ever make us that much, but his program is still a possibility. We’re looking at launching that in a few months or so.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 14, 2009 Understandably, a lot of people on KB are pissed that their protests to stop the launching of 3.0 are going ignored. I agree that there are already enough goddamn Facebook knock-offs on the web. They’re setting up other sites to discuss the fall of KB since you can’t really express yourself on KB if it’s not what they want to hear any more than you could on OLS.

I myself haven’t left KB due to just the inevitable, unwanted change, but for other reasons beyond the loss of prizes and journals. I’m sick of the drama queens like Susan, Amber and Emma, though I can relate to their frustrations over what’s been going on. Still, I’m tired of seeing the same damn members get away with attacking those who dare to speak their minds and be unique simply because they’re best buds with the hot shots there. But life wasn’t meant to be fair and I can’t fix KB. Only the new owners can do that and they obviously don’t want to leave what works best the hell alone and put an end to the favoritism that goes on there.

Here I don’t have to be afraid to “be myself” in my own journal. Here I can say what I want and not have to deal with any little sensitives who can’t handle and therefore shouldn’t be reading what I might have to say. Journals are supposed to be a means of fully expressing ourselves without having to hold back in any way. Anyplace that says you can’t bash apples or cows in your own journal isn’t really providing you with a “journal” in the first place. Furthermore, if you don’t like what someone may have to say in their journal, there’s a simple solution to that. There really is.

Don’t read it!

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2009 Lots of Turk work came in today and that helped make up for the slow weekend. It was down to like 10,000 jobs on Sunday, but today there was something like 33,000.

I’m halfway through German 101, still with a 95% accuracy rate, and about to take another lesson.

Supposedly we have a real kick-ass storm on the way. At about 4am we should get slammed. In less than a day, we’re to get as much rain as we’d get in Arizona in a year. Lots of wind, too.

Can’t think of anything else. Just working and doing the usual.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2009 I’m now 44% through German 101 and still with a score of 95%. I’m going to be taking another lesson in a few minutes since it’s another slow workday. I still got enough to order that bottle for the rats awfully fast! That should be here within a week. After I get the things on my list I’m going to start saving most of my earnings.

I definitely need new glasses next. Tom thinks I need bifocals. I miss my old eyes! I really didn’t think I’d need glasses of any kind till I was in my 50s, yet my eyes are getting worse and worse by the minute, and these drugstore glasses are too heavy.

I also need new bras. Dumping 30 pounds makes your clothes too small! Then we’d still like the memory foam topper for the bed, a new body pillow, and one of those Nu-Wave ovens. I also have to drop Napster for Slacker and renew my Webshots membership.

So after we get all this shit which should cost around $300, I’ll start saving. Tom will have the $500 he’ll need to get his Mac back next month.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10, 2009 I’m now 38% through German 101 with a score of 95%. It’s going a hell of a lot better than the French was! I’m retaining quite a bit and fast too, though I think it’s going to take me 5 years before I can say the word “nurse.” Krankenschwester, WTF???

I guess I’ll journal here till they either launch 3.0 or I get sick of it.

Not much Turk work in today cuz it’s the weekend, but I’m over $30 now.

We went to put money on the card to cover the phone/net bill today, and since we’re not doing so bad I even got some incense at the Goodwill. Vanilla, Strawberry, Wild Cherries, Opium, Cool Water, Jasmine, Rain Forest and China Rain.

It was a hot one out there today. At least in the direct sunlight, it was anyway.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2009 Decided to drop French for German since I heard it’s supposed to be the easiest language for a native English speaker to learn because it’s structured a lot like English. Sure enough, it really is pretty easy! Some words are a bit tough to pronounce, but you can get used to them. I’m already 25% through German 101 with a score of 93%. I know I have a knack for languages anyway, but that’s still not bad for my first non-romance language!

Although they have gender words like romance languages, they’re not “backward.” You know how we say, “I am not young,” while in Spanish it equates to “I no is young?” Well, they put the “I am” or “you are” before the “not” as well. It seems they capitalize the first letters of all nouns, though.

Anyway, French was just kind of ugly for me. German’s ugly too, but it’s different, and I partially disagree with those who say French is the hardest romance language. I think it’s the hardest to speak and to hear, but I think Italian has the toughest grammar.

Well, I’ve turned into a regular little workaholic working 7 days a week and you could definitely say I’m quite dedicated. Tom thinks I work too hard, though I always make sure I still have a life and that I don’t neglect other things that need to be done. The only thing I’ve been neglecting is my writing/proofreading, but that’s not a necessity, so it’s ok. Not a whole lotta jobs coming in today, so I’m doing some proofreading and I might work on my stories, too.

I also decided not to bother with AdSense until and if we have a website of our own. If we do, then I’ll throw it on whatever sites I use that’ll let me, like Blogger. It’s definitely not worth paying LJ $20 for, especially since I don’t need the features that come with upgrading. So which journal will I use? I guess I’ll stick with LJ’s free journal for now. Maybe sometimes I’ll copy stuff to other places, but LJ will be the main journal for now.

The check came today and we even have a pretty decent cushion for the first time in quite a while. Tom could even get his Mac back now, but we decided to wait till next month. It’ll only cost $10 extra. Yes, after a long stressful year of getting nowhere, things definitely do seem to be improving. I hope it stays that way, too!

But Mary’s life got worse. I hope I hear from her soon, but I can understand that she’s going to be depressed for a while.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve had intermittent cramps and ache-like pains mostly on the left side of my chest. For the most part, I’m not sure what the hell it could be, but something happened the other day that now has me wondering if maybe there really is something wrong with my heart, as hard as it is to believe. I know it’s not impossible and that it does run in my family, but I’m still fairly young and super fit. And while I may not be thin, I’m not fat either. Especially for my age. What happened was I had some cramps that sort of pulsated on and off. Then they stopped for a while. But then later on I was startled by what I thought was a huge spider and the instant my heart started racing, the cramps returned.

Nothing from Eileen since we first spoke. I don’t know her or exactly what’s going on in her life, but I realize she might’ve been spooked by my journals if she read them. I even considered taking the links off Facebook, but then decided not to. I’m not going to change my life for anyone, and anyone who may be spooked by them or anything else about me shouldn’t be a friend of mine, not that the idea is to be her friend or stay in touch anyway. Don’t get me wrong; she’s still welcome to contact me and I might say hello from time to time myself, but the main point was to a) find out who she was. And b) thank her for caring. Even so, I’m kind of shocked she wasn’t as delighted and as flattered as I’d think she’d be at all the time and effort I put into finding her.

As for Gregg, I asked him if he’s checked out my journals, saying I was curious as to who on Facebook may take the time to check them out. I never got an answer, which makes me think the answer is probably, “Yes, and I don’t want to be put on the spot with any questions about what I think of them.”

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2009 Nothing from Eileen since we first messaged each other, and she still hasn’t accepted my friend request. Hmmm… could she be spooked by my journal? Something else? Something that has nothing to do with me? Either way, it’s like, gee, thanks. I put all these years and all this work into finding you and you’re like, yeah, so? So what?

Not that I regret finding her and settling my curiosity as to who she is and what her life has been like, but it looks like my sensors were right on as usual when I said I sensed a lack of mutual excitement over reuniting. Oh well. I’ll send one more message saying hello towards the end of the month and then that’s it. I don’t want to bother with her if she doesn’t want to bother with me.

Got a friend request on Facebook from a mutual “friend” of ours. We have two mutual friends, actually, and that’d be those two people whose emails and IPs trace to Mountain View, CA. Sure enough, while this one’s profile looks legit, its email also traces to Mountain View. It’ll be interesting to see just what they’re up to.

It just seems really strange that I get friended by strangers while Eileen hasn’t accepted my friend invite.

Later…

No unemployment check today, but we’re not worried since Margaret, at the UPS Store, said that others hadn’t gotten their checks either. We mail the forms right over to Sacramento, but the checks themselves come up from San Bernardino. Besides, I haven’t had any bad dreams.

No letters or samples today, but I got that pendant I won. It’s just so-so. Kind of hard to see any detail because it’s so small, and lacking in color.

Best of all, I got my first check from InboxDollars and Tom found a more convenient check-cashing place, so we still got plenty of stuff to hold us over till tomorrow, not that we were completely out of food.

Today’s the opposite of yesterday on MT; not many jobs coming in. But if it can be this good during the worst economic times that I’ve ever seen, I can just imagine how much better it’ll be when the economy is better and there are more jobs and fewer people around to steal them from me! It’s so cool to see my money grow throughout the day and or night, depending on when I’m awake and available to work. I do as much as I can whenever I can. I love working from home! No need to worry about transportation, gas, etc.

For now, Tom, who’s still hopeful for an outside job, decided to use what he earns towards paying the phone/net bill while I get various things we could use around here and maybe even a few goodies mixed in. I want to get the rats a new water bottle first. This old roller bottle sucks and it’s too small. Super-sized rats like these go through 8-oz. bottles in no time. I’m going to get a top-loading swivel spout bottle like the one we had for years before it broke.

Not much else to say. The days are toasty warm, the early mornings chillier than I’d like. I wish it could always be June!

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2009 Been going nonstop since I got up about 8 hours ago that I didn’t think I was going to get to make an entry today. Yeah, they really threw the work at me today on MT! Part of the contract in working for them means you can’t discuss the jobs, so I won’t discuss the actual jobs themselves. I don’t know why they have this rule since anyone can sign up to be a worker there. You just have to be over 18 and not have any felonies on your record. Once that’s established, you’re in!

I’ve got $20 made so far and about $25 in pending jobs. Yesterday there weren’t many jobs, but today there were tons of them. I was worried I wasn’t going to get enough work, but I’m still pretty sure I’ll make $200 - $300 a month there. I currently have 577 jobs submitted, 442 approved, 17 rejected and 118 pending.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2009 Lost a total of 30 pounds since my highest high that I know of which was 151 pounds, and am back to 121 pounds.

I exchanged a few messages with Eileen last night. She was perfectly polite and friendly, but I didn’t sense the same eagerness about hearing from me as I felt over finding her. IDK, I just would’ve thought she’d be more excited. Who knows, maybe she was. You can’t hear tones or see facial expressions online, so who knows? This is just something I sensed.

Anyway, she simply told me that she did remember me and thanked me for considering her to have been a kind person. She’s 58 now with 3 grown kids and 1 grandchild. She asked what was up with me and I gave her the highlights within a few paragraphs.

She hasn’t accepted my friend request yet, but that’s up to her. If I never heard from her again I’d be ok with at least knowing that I accomplished my main goal which was to find and thank her. Anything more is just a bonus.

I did get a friend request from a fellow camp group member, and a message from Gregg saying it was his pleasure to have been able to help me after I thanked him for his help. He says he loves that kind of detective work. I was glad to hear that as I was worried I was burdening him.

Wow, California has definitely been the “state of reunion” for me, even if there were a few unwanted attempts to reunite with me along the way.

I spoke to my folks yesterday and I’m both glad and not so glad I bothered to call, as I knew they’d bring up the shit with Tammy and her brood. I was about to just call it quits and hang up when my dad insisted, all the while my mom’s attitude was like fine-go-ahead, that they weren’t blaming me only. Well, that’s nice that they recognize that I’m not the only one who did things she shouldn’t have, but they almost made me feel like a kid being scolded all over again. I understand where they’re coming from, but still, I don’t need this shit in my life. It’s easy to tell myself, “Just walk away. Just wash your hands clean of all of them just like you did 10 years ago. You got along fine without them and you know you don’t want/need any negative people in your life or people you simply don’t care for.”

But it’s not that easy what with how much I appreciate their saving us like they did, and all the nice stuff they sent. Stuff is just stuff, I know, and it’s not a ticket for them to aggravate me, but because it was a minor thing where they just wanted to ensure that I won’t contact Tammy, I will keep in touch for now. Besides, it’s not like these people have many years left to live in the first place, and as I assured them, ignoring Tammy and company is my pleasure. Even if they sent a million messages a day I could just ignore them. If they lived a few feet away from us, they could make me pay attention to them, but they don’t. Those people can never hurt or control me ever again. None of them can. I will never see them again and the only ones I’ll talk to are my folks, and without others in the mix to start the he-said, she-said bullshit and come between us, we should be able to get along. This won’t stop Tammy from telling them things in my journal that I might not necessarily tell them myself which they may not agree with (like looking up personal info on people, posting the message about Valleyhead, finding Eileen), but as long as they don’t get pushy, controlling or demanding in any way, I’m ok with keeping in touch with them. And I’d say Tammy definitely mentioned Valleyhead and camp to them because of the way Dad worded things when he said, “That’s what you do. You look up people and places.” Well, I’ve never mentioned places to them in past letters, just info on various people like when Al M died and shit like that.

Meanwhile, things just aren’t the same and I doubt they ever will be again. My folks almost sounded cold, especially my mother. Like talking to me was a chore that they simply felt obligated to do because they’re my parents. I’m not saying they don’t care about what’s going on with us and that they don’t wish us the best, but well, it’s like we’re strangers in a way. Then again, I think we always have been, haven’t we?

Anyway, my folks are ok. They said they’ve never seen a recession this bad in their lives and that they can’t even save. And what they do save has to go to doctors. I’m sure their definition of saving is different than mine, though. We’re so broke that a savings of $20 is a luxury to us.

We have 6 old CRT monitors and Tom brought two of them to the recycling center today, planning to eventually take two more in, then keep a couple as a backup. Well, it’s a good thing he didn’t bring them all in today as the one he was using burned out, so he’s using one of the backups till he can get his Mac back.

I learned an easier way to peel bananas. You usually peel them from the stem, but if you turn the banana around and pinch the very ends of it, it peels much easier. It’s how monkeys do it.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2009 I have some pretty exciting news! I not only got the name I’ve been looking for but made contact, too! Yay! Her name is Eileen.

I got up this morning and found a message from Gregg, saying that one of their alums gave him the names of the unit heads from 1976 and that they vaguely remember Eileen having a dog.

Someone else said she married a counselor there.

So now I had a name. A much more likely name than ever before.

But then I ran her name and got more hits than I knew what to do with. Especially without an exact age and knowing what state she currently resides in.

Then someone named Becky was kind enough to leave a message on the reunion site saying she vaguely remembers a Jodi being in her cabin, but she couldn’t picture her and didn’t remember anyone getting kicked out. Also, there was a unit head around that time who had a dog named Sidney, who fit the description I gave of the unit head.

For some reason, the dog’s name seemed more familiar as opposed to the name Eileen. So I sent Becky a PM, thanked her for her input, described myself, and gave her my photo albums link in case seeing me would help her remember anything more since I have had pictures throughout all my life there. Then, to see if Becky remembered anything else I told her the only other real memory I have of being in the cabin and that would – uh – that would be stealing some other girl’s barrette! I told her that my bunk was on the front wall of the cabin, maybe 3-4 bunks from the sidewall heading away from the door. In the next bunk to the right, closer to the wall, was a girl whose long hair I was jealous of because my mom wouldn’t let me grow mine much longer than the middle of my back. I don’t remember anyone’s names, but anyway, she had a large brown hair barrette and a colored one as well. Being the little devil that I was at the time, I stole one of them. Yeah, I wasn’t a very nice kid, LOL, though as I told Becky, I’d be happy to replace it now!

Becky told me the name of that girl and that seemed familiar, too. Then she sent me an email saying she’d Googled Eileen’s name and provided me with a link that had a photo which she was pretty sure was Eileen. It was a picture at an education site showing her, her daughter, granddaughter and mother. Without seeing a better picture taken from around the time I last saw her, I wouldn’t be able to look at it and go, “Oh, yeah, that’s definitely her!”

We seem to have a couple of things in common from what the article said, like writing and languages. I guess she spent some time in Denmark and learned the language. She seems to be mostly into business-related stuff, though, and has kids. When I looked her up on MySpace she came up as single, though the article spoke of her as married and it’s only a year old, so I don’t know if she’s still married or not. She seems to have done quite well for herself over the years and has led a very busy and productive life.

Had someone told me in Phoenix when my first attempt to locate her came to a dead-end that some guy in Georgia would help me find her 14 years later while I lived in California of all places, I’d have laughed my ass off!

This entry is getting way too long and so I’ll finish the story tomorrow. I’ll just sign off by saying that Brandy and the puppy came down today and this time it wasn’t quietly. The puppy barked just outside the porch. Tom said he thinks something happened to scare it, but I think it was playing. It not only distracted me from my work, but it really startled me. So I called up to let Jesse know his dogs were loose. Damn, I wish that guy would keep his dogs to himself! This is the whole reason we came out here; to try and finally escape this shit.

Up to $11.59 now on MT, but I’m afraid there are not going to be as many jobs as I hoped there would be. I’m also still owed about $20 in pending payments.

Oh, I keep forgetting to mention this and then I’ll sign off – I apparently scared off whoever the hell that really was that contacted me on FB claiming to be from outside of Thailand. I don’t know what their motives were, but when I confronted them with the fact that I ran their email and found them to be just 134 miles from here in a place called Mountain View, I never heard from them again.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2009 Wow, no barking yet, though I’ve only been up an hour. I’m impressed. It’s their kind of barking weather, though certainly not mine. At this moment it’s 46º. And people think California’s always warm and sunny – haha! Every night from here on out till March I’ll be dreaming of Florida.

Today’s my 12th quit-smoking anniversary! I can just imagine the money I’ve saved over the years. I don’t think I’d be alive today if I hadn’t quit, but in the end, I didn’t have much choice. Sometimes things have to get to the do-or-die stage before change occurs.

My weight works as mysteriously as God. Yesterday I took the day off from both diet and exercise, slammed on a good 2000 calories or so of whatever, and woke up this morning to find I’d lost a pound. I can also imagine all the weight I’d lose – and how quickly – if I could only discipline myself with the diet part as well as I can with the exercise part. If not, I’ll forever bounce between 122-124 pounds.

Work has slowed down over the weekend as few requesters are around to pay the workers for their tasks. The good news, though, is that I think I can make closer to $10 a day if I do 60-70 jobs a day. It’s hard to tell exactly what I’ve made each day until all pending jobs are paid for, and of course I expect a few here and there to stiff me. After a week of not receiving payment, I’ll jot the names down of those people/companies and make sure I never do any other jobs for them again.

I won a fairy pendant from that doll company. I asked them what it was I won. I didn’t want them sending me crap I’d feel almost insulted to “win” and embarrassed for whoever made it like in Oregon. I saw a picture of it and it’s not too bad at all.

What should I do now? I think I’ll try to get my sister sent to jail for defending me when I lived back in S. Deerfield in 1991 and the Northampton Crisis Center insisted I killed my dad in 1984 (yeah, they had my files mixed up with someone else’s, alright!). But who the hell was she to get involved? After all, I was only her little sister. Shame on her for trying to stick up for me. She should’ve never given a damn, right? Right?

I’m 19% through French 101 with a score of 95%. So far it’s both harder and easier than expected. The grammar’s not too bad, but it’s going to take a long time to get used to hearing/speaking it. It’s kinda ugly. Usually, it’s the other way around and the grammar is the hardest part for me. It sounds so different than Spanish and Italian and even Portuguese, too. But when you’ve been hearing Spanish every day for two decades as opposed to French, it’s no wonder French sounds weird.

J’ai froid (I am cold)!

Since there’s less work today, I guess that means more entries from me on weekends.

The dogs are still quiet and I can’t help but wonder, would they be this quiet if Jesse wasn’t home? I’m afraid I would not like the answer to that question!

I suppose it’s a waste of time to try to figure people out, but I just don’t get them when it comes to defending them. They crucify you if you do stick up for them, and they crucify you if you don’t. They’re never happy no matter what!

Later…

The cold is making my ear act up. Anyway, it’s just after 8am which means Jesse will be taking off anytime between now and noon. It’ll be interesting to see how the dogs are then, though it should be warming up fast as it usually does in dry climates. Then again, it’s only supposed to get up to 65º. It will be back in the upper 70s next week.

The more I work at MT, the more I can see the possibility of making closer to $10 a day. I wish he’d hurry the hell up and get up already, so he can set me up to do transcriptions that pay more. We read the tutorials and style guides yesterday. I may be bad at a lot of things, but if there’s one thing I’m good at it’s typing.

So they say the new and historical insurance plan is to cover dental and vision, but I’ll believe it when and if I see it. I’m just glad they’re keeping the illegals out of it. That would’ve really driven the population up worse than China! Besides, I hate to give things unless it’s something I don’t want anyway. That’s another human trait I don’t get besides forgiveness. Why would people want to be giving any more than forgiving? Giving is how you get taken advantage of. Forgiving is how you get screwed over again. So no, I’ll never hold a grudge against Lisa for immaturely attacking me like that without politely and calmly asking me about what I did or didn’t say to my dad in an adult manner, but I’ll never forgive her. Why? So she can attack me again without giving me a chance to explain or defend myself? Sorry, but at nearly 44 years of age, I’m not obligated to explain or defend myself to anyone.

The sick neighbors we had didn’t allow me the luxury of ignoring them for 7 years, and this has only made me more determined to cut those of negative influence out of my life. I may not be able to destroy their memories. I may write about them from time to time. But they will never ever again get the chance to victimize, abuse, use or just plain annoy the hell out of me ever again. Not if I can help it! I’m sure my sister would deem that as “threatening” if she reads this too, hahaha!

Still haven’t decided on AdSense yet or if I’m going to continue journaling. I kind of like journaling where I can have some say in who comments about it. If KB really does have those controls included with 3.0 once they launch it, I might return there. It’s easier to choose the colors from their drop-down menu, but here I have to import them.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2009 Yesterday morning there was some barking. Nothing maddening, but I can see how it’s going to get there the cooler the weather gets. Tom doesn’t think they’ll be a problem this winter because Brandy and Whiskey are older and the puppy will learn from them and follow their behavior. Yeah, that’s my optimistic hubby for ya! Brandy (I think it was her) just went off for a few seconds yet it’s the weekend and Jesse should be home. I hope she woke him up!

There she goes again. Great. Just great. So much for hoping it wouldn’t start up till next month! I’ll put the sound machine on so I can concentrate on my work. I’ll be working more today than yesterday because I need to give myself a day off from working out. My legs are like logs!

I almost met my $5-a-day goal yesterday. I made $4.48 that I know of. Meaning that there are several other jobs I did yesterday that are still pending. It usually takes a few days to receive payment. Once everything’s all paid, I should total around $20, plus whatever I make today. Our goal is to make at least $300 a month in extra money between the two of us.

They reactivated my Facebook account yesterday.

I’m going to give my folks a call, probably at the beginning of next week right after 5pm my time when I know they’re likely to be home, but not yet asleep.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2009 Yay, just 999 days to go till he turns 55 and we can hopefully – hopefully – get the ball rolling towards getting a house in a senior community!

Meanwhile, I’ve been working and winning. Yep, I did say winning. From 2005 to early 2008 I won nearly 20K worth of stuff. Then it all stopped right along with the economy. I’m still not sweeping regularly, but I got a win notice from a doll company saying I was their monthly winner. Apparently, if you’ve subscribed to their newsletter, you’re automatically entered into their monthly contests. I once won from them up in Oregon, but you don’t always get dolls. If I remember correctly, I got some stupid handmade craft that looked like a two-year-old made. Watch, now that I’ve quit collecting dolls, it will be a doll!

We decided to set me up with an account on MT, so now we’re both workers there. I did 27 jobs in just a couple of hours and made a few bucks. I can see where we could easily make 3-5 hundred a month doing this! Eventually, I’ll do some transcriptions. That’s where the real money is.

It’s so nice to be working and making money, even if it’s not a lot! After the hell we’ve been through, getting “rich” and having “tons” of extra money no longer is a top priority for us. Of course we’d take millions of dollars if we could. We’re only human. Yet while extra money may be nice, as long as we can pay for our necessities, that’s plenty good enough for us.

I’ve been wanting a home job that’d pay a significant amount and not just a few bucks here and a few bucks there for so long now. Working at home I don’t have to worry about schedules, transportation, uniforms, or any evil coworkers/bosses.

I decided to spend the first few hours of my day doing everything else I usually do, then the rest of the day will be devoted to working. Of course I’ll take breaks to eat, exercise, run errands, etc.

Still haven’t decided if I want to do AdSense yet. Off to work now!

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2009 I realized that what my sister did really put a complex on me and could stop me from helping those who truly want to be helped in the future. About a decade ago I was harshly reminded that you not only can’t help those who don’t want help, but they can turn on you, too. Not just refuse your help, but literally spite you for trying to help. Because of this, I had to ask myself this: If I saw a guy abusing some woman somewhere, would I have the guts to try to help her? Or would I be paranoid that she would tell the cops when they arrived that I was the one trying to attack her or something like that?

I hope I won’t ever have to find out!

She once said I deserved it when I told her Ron once slapped me. This was back in the mid-80s. Can you believe it? “You deserve it,” she told me.

Yet I, along with any other sane, rational human being, know that no one deserves to be slapped. No one. If they’re not trying to harm you, your loved ones, or your property, no one deserves to be handled that way. Violence is not love. Although I threw the bastard out before I could take a hammer to his head in his sleep, her telling me that probably hurt me more than his slap. I was only around 21 at the time.

We’re looking for a site like MT that I could work at. I should be started with something somewhere within a day or two. Tom thinks I’d be best at jobs that involve writing, LOL, obviously. Oh, and I went back and re-read that chick’s message. She hasn’t been on the MT for 2 years but for 2 months.

I still can’t believe the judge fucked over Mary by reneging on the deal. Then again, I can. When you are the law, you can make it or break it at will. I don’t get how they expect people to testify if they keep backing out of the deals they make, though. Oh well, hopefully the asshole will get hit by a bus or something.

[mourntheantagonist]

thinking about…

poet!billy

***

It started with an English assignment. Everyone in class was tasked with memorizing a poem that was assigned to them by their teacher. As they walked out into the hallway that Friday afternoon, she handed each person a printed copy of a different poem as they walked out the door. Billy didn’t look down at his poem until he had walked out halfway into the parking lot.

Those Winter Sundays

“You’ve got to be joking.”

Billy knew this poem. It was right along with all the others in the sonnet section of their textbook. He knew this poem because he hates this poem.

Sundays too my father got up early

and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,

then with cracked hands that ached

from labor in the weekday weather made

banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

The first stanza didn’t bother him all that much, neither did the second.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering. Breaking.

When the rooms were warm, he’d call,

and slowly I would rise and dress,

fearing the chronic angers of that house.

It was the third stanza that irked him—that made him slam the book shit upon first reading those last couple of lines about a kid who just couldn’t understand that keeping the house warm was how his father showed love.

Speaking indifferently to him,

who had driven out the cold

and polished my good shoes as well.

What did I know, what did I know

of love’s austere and lonely offices?

“It’s just how he shows he cares.” Billy’s heard that line more times than he can count. They would say that about how he always kept him on a tight leash with early curfews and telling every adult in town to keep a close eye on him.

But what about his special talks? We’re those included too? Was him constantly reminding him of the importance of respect and responsibility with a slap across the face to drive it home just the way Neil showed his fatherly love? What about the bruises, were those also included?

“Fuck you Robert Hayden.” Billy said under his breath, crumpling up the piece of paper and tossing it into the backseat of his car.

They had two weeks to memorize before they would be asked to present to the class, but Billy had made no attempt at that. The poem still sat in a crumpled up ball somewhere underneath his driver’s seat.

And maybe it had something to do with the buzz from a warm can of beer or the head rush from a good hit of nicotine, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Neil had chosen that night to put a hole in the dry wall with the side of Billy’s skull because he didn’t like his tone at dinner, or maybe it was the rage from thinking about Robert Hayden’s poetry, but something compelled him to open up a notebook and start writing a poem of his own.

It started out with a long string of “fuck you’s”.

Fuck you Robert Hayden

Fuck you Mrs. Nelson

Fuck you dad.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

Fuck you.

And somewhere in the mess of expletives, he started writing out lines from the poem he was supposed to memorize.

What did I know, what did I know

What the hell do I know?

And then something weird happened. Billy sat upright in his bed, awake as the sun both set and rose again behind him. Page after page, attempt after attempt, he came out with something.

Those Summer Tuesdays by Billy Hargrove

He rebelled, against his teacher, and against the poetic form. He threw meter and rhyme out the window, and let his words clutter the page in a way that made sense.

In a way that felt poetic, and correct.

Billy didn’t exactly know what his plan was walking into class that morning, arriving at sixth period with a list of names written on the board in the order in which they would recite their memorization.

Billy memorized his poem. Both of them.

It wasn’t until he got up in front of the class that he had decided which one he was recite.

Not until he had said the title out loud.

“Those… Summer Tuesdays”

His teacher looked at him funny, and so did the few others in the class that had actually paid attention during their poetry unit that knew that wasn’t title. But nobody stopped him, maybe out of morbid curiosity, maybe out of a desire to laugh at him fail.

Billy didn’t care, or rather, something deep down inside of him—the part of him that stayed up for hours writing it—didn’t care, because it was forced out of him like an exorcism.

Tuesdays he clocked off at six.

The sun would still be beating down as

evening came around late that time of year.

He’d come home to both the sun,

and a son, that was in need of a lesson.

There were more eyes on him now, and the ones that looked at him quizzically before had adjusted into something else, something he couldn’t quite grasp.

With already bruised knuckles, he’d knock.

His voice and fists would rattle the door

and quickly I would rise and straighten,

fearing the chronic angers of that house.

He let himself pause for a moment, and every person was engaged. Some with furrowed eyebrows trying to decipher the not so coded meaning of his words, and some had soft expressions. Those people he figured understood immediately. That created some tension in his gut. Maybe this was a mistake.

Hopefully they’d already learned to separate the poet from the speaker.

It wasn’t like anyone of them knew him well enough to care.

He continued.

I would freeze and face forward

at the man who stood before me,

who spoke of respect and responsibility

Billy looked around the room again. So many faces he didn’t recognize as anything more than the faces of people he shared English class with.

Except for Steve.

He was there, in the back corner of the class.

Billy saw his expression, and it wasn’t one of confusion.

Shit.

But what do I know? What the hell do I know,

of love’s austere and lonely offices?

***

Billy wound up failing the assignment, but he didn’t care.

Because something happened that day in him reading that poem out loud. He’d said all the things he had wanted to say for so long, things he felt he couldn’t say because nobody would believe him. It was like he could get away with it this way.

And also, the added bonus,

Steve loved his poems.

[quillsandtypos]

Ski Trip

Summary: when the reader agrees to go on the annual ski trip up to the mountains with her boyfriend, Luke, and her friends she expected to go looking at mountains. But what she ends up doing doesn't require much hiking

Pairings: alive!Luke Patterson x reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: THIS IS NSFW FOREPLAY SMUT PEOPLE

If any of you have ever had a conversation with me and you read this fic, no you didn't

...........................................

"What are you two doing tomorrow?" Julie asked you.

You rolled into your stomach and propped your head up in your hands. “I’m not sure, but I know what we're doing next weekend, unfortunately.”

That peaked Julie’s interest, you weren’t usually much of a complainer. “Why unfortunately?” she questioned.

“Because I'm going on the Ski trip with him,” you whined. You wanted to spend time with Luke, you just didn't wanna go on the trip.

“Oh my god, you get to go?” she excitedly asked.

“Not helping,” you commented.

Julie smirked. “Sorry not sorry, I’ve been trying to get you to go for the past two years. And the first year, I couldn’t even go,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, so why would I have gone if you and Flynn weren’t even gonna be there?” you asked. As if on cue, Flynn walked down the stairs.

“Heard you guys were talking about me, all good things I hope?” she spoke as she walked down the stairs.

“Always,” you said, somewhat sarcastically.

She motioned for you to scoot over so she could have some space on the couch.

“So, if we’re done talking about me, did I hear someone say something about the ski trip?” Flynn questioned.

Before you could open your mouth Julie was already telling Flynn about how you were coming on the trip.

“You are?” Flynn squealed.

You tried to not get excited from their joy, but it was impossible; they were contagious.

You shyly smiled. “Yes, I’m going.”

“Yayyy!” Flynn yelled. The girl was practically jumping up and down.

“Oh who are you sharing a room with?” Flynn asked.

“Luke and I are,” you answered.

The girls exchanged a look you knew all too well.

“Shut up!” You covered your face with a pillow.

“We didn’t say anything!” they protested in almost complete unison.

You could feel your cheeks burning up. “Yeah, but you thought it,” you argued.

“Well whether we thought it or said it, you’re sharing a room with your boyyyyyyyfriend,” Flynn sang.

“If you guys start sing teasing me, I will leave,” you threatened.

“Don’t you need us to pick out your outfits?” Julie remembered.

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

“So in other words you have no leverage?” Flynn realized.

“I’m your ride home,” you reminded her.

“Outfits it is, but do not think we will be forgetting about this!” Flynn cried as she walked up to your bedroom.

“Whatever Flynn!” you yelled back.

“She’s right you know,” Julie slyly commented.

You just huffed in response.

The two of them did a very good job at helping maximize your california wardrobe for the mountains. Granted you had to go buy a couple things in advance, but overall, you felt confident that you could bear the cold of the mountains.

“Alright, I think you’ll survive,” Flynn proclaimed.

You closed your suitcase, and surprisingly you didn’t even have to sit on it.

“Thank you guys, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, it was our pleasure, especially since you’re actually coming this year,” Julie said.

You dropped them both back off their houses and they were nice enough to spare you from embarrassing you in the car ride.

...........

You heard someone creeping up behind you as you grabbed your stuff to head to your second class, and as you felt arms wrap around your waist you knew it was Luke.

You turned to face him. “So I was thinking if we get one of the window rooms then we can see the snow when it falls,” he proposed.

Your face lit up. “Wait, it’s gonna snow when we’re up there?” you excitedly asked.

He happily watched your beaming face “I mean that’s what the weather said.”

“Oh my god! I haven’t seen snow since-” you paused, “actually I don’t remember, but it’s been awhile.”

“Well there’s a good chance that’s gonna happen,” he said.

“You know you’re actually required to show up to school for them to allow you to come right?” you teased. Though originally it had been a legitimate concern.

He licked his lips. “I’ve been coming everyday so I could come on this trip,” he defended himself.

“Coming to school and staying in school are two very different things Patterson,” you playfully reminded him.

He leaned in closer and his voice got quieter. “And what’s that?”

You resisted the urge to swallow and pulled away from him. “One is what I’m doing right now, because I need to go to class.”

He pulled his lips tightly before sighing. “You got me there,” he admitted.

“I always do,” you said, as you started walking off. You turned around to see him still standing there, you would be lying if you said it didn’t bring you joy.

“Go to class Luke!” you yelled back at him.

“You got it!” he saluted you and walked the other way.

You playfully rolled your eyes. That boy would be the death of you, but you supposed there were worse ways to go.

That Friday you didn’t have any school since the school board figured it was pointless to send a bunch of kids to school the day before they went on a ski trip. There wasn’t going to be any actual learning anyway. You usually would’ve spent some of the day at Julie’s; which you did, but today it wasn’t in the studio for practice. You figured since she had helped you pack, you could at least keep her company as she packed.

“So who are you sharing a room with?” you asked her, as she sorted through her jeans.

“Me and Flynn just figured we’d share one,” Julie said offhandedly.

You chose to not comment on how she was obviously forcing herself to be casual.

“Ah I see, do you know if Alex and Reg are coming?”

“Yeah, and get this Alex and Willie are sharing a room,” she gossiped.

“I’m calling it right now, they're gonna start dating by the end of the weekend,” you hypothesized.

“I 100% agree.”

The two of you spent the next hour or so just discussing what sort of things you wanted to do while you were there over the weekend, and of course how much Flynn was running around her house frantically changing outfits. You actually were excited about going, not necessarily about the actual trip, and about dealing with certain classmates, but you were looking forward to being with Luke and hanging out with your friends.

For some reason when you woke up the next morning you were a little nervous, you supposed it was because you had never been skiing or snowboarding for that matter.

You got ready pretty minimally considering you were soon to be on a five hour bus ride. None of your family was up yet so when Luke pulled into your driveway you slipped out the door.

“You got everything?” Luke asked.

“Everything except my chill,” you responded with a smile.

“You’re gonna be alright, and you don’t have to do anything there you don’t wanna do, so if you don’t wanna risk a broken leg, then don’t.”

Despite your anxieties, you knew he was still right.

“Thanks Luke.”

“Anything for you.”

When the two of you got to the bus everyone else in your group had already gotten there. You, the rest of the band, Flynn, and Willie had made a plan for the bus.

“We have arrived,” you announced to your friends as you and Luke took your spots.

“And just in time too, people kept trying to take your seats,” Willie reported.

“Thanks for saving them,” Luke responded.

The two of you continued chatting with the rest of your friends until the bus driver instructed everyone to take their seats. The majority of everyone slept on the way up there but you were too anxious to get there to sleep. Instead you watched youtube as Luke napped on your shoulder.

“Luke, Luuuuuuuuuuuke, Luooooooooooooooke,” you spoke. You were trying to wake him up quietly but you were starting to realize that wasn’t going to work.

Luckily Reggie was awake. “Oh he’s a heavy sleeper, that’s not gonna work.”

Reggie basically got himself so he was dangling off both sides of his chair before yelling in his ear.

Luke awakened with a jolt, looking fairly startled.

You weren’t entirely sure whether you should laugh, throw Reggie under the bus, or maybe both.

“What happened?” Luke asked.

“I woke you up,” Reggie answered innocently.

“By yelling in my ear?” Luke groggily questioned.

Reggie quickly tried to backpedal himself out of this situation. “I mean I don’t think the method is relevant, the important thing is that you’re up.”

Luke wasn’t awake enough to deal with the situation at hand. He just chose to lay his head back on your shoulder.

By the time you had made it to the hotel you were ready to collapse. Luke laughed when you flung yourself onto one the beds.

“Should I be worried?” he asked, mostly as a joke.

“No,” you smiled and rubbed your face, “I’m just really tired.”

“You couldn’t sleep on the bus?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” you groaned.

“You know what would help?” he asked.

“Do tell,” you inquired, from your face down position.

“This,” he said, before he jumped on the bed beside you. He curled his warm body around you and pulled you in.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” you responded. You attempted to melt further into him. You laid there in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes.

“Luke we should probably go do things,” you suggested. You attempted to get up but he pulled you back down.

You stayed with him but you turned around so you were facing him. “Luke?”

“Yes, y/n?”

You bit your lip, you had to admit, it was pretty cute. “Are you going to let me get up?” you asked.

He looked into your eyes lovingly. “Well if you’re trying to leave then no.”

“So that would be a no.”

“Well if you look at it that way then yeah,” he admitted with a mischievous smile on his face.

“Luke come o-” the rest of your sentence didn’t quite make it out. Your smart boyfriend decided to use your weak spot on your back against you.

“You wanna go now?” he teased.

“Not necessarily,” you lazily responded.

You could feel your willpower fading as the light stokes up and down your back sent a calm wave of chills through your body. But you knew if you didn’t use your chance now there was a good chance you weren’t getting out of that bed today.

“Luke come on we gotta go,” you whined. It’s not like you weren’t enjoying yourself, you most definitely were, but your friends had to be wondering where the two of you were.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he gave in.

“Can I have a kiss though?” he sweetly pleaded.

You gladly agreed, but you realized his plan of not leaving the room hadn’t quite ended when the kiss started leading down to your jaw.

“Luke you’re not sly,” you laughed.

“Oh is that so?” he asked, as he moved down to your jawline.

You nodded your head.

“Then why aren’t you moving?” he purred.

Okay, so he maybe had a point.

“You can tell me to stop,” he reminded you. He looked into your eyes for any sign of you wanting him to stop and waited.

“Unless of course, you don’t want me to stop?” he asked, with the biggest smirk you had ever seen on his face.

“Not necessarily,” you said, completely avoiding his eye contact.

He crawled over top of you, “What was that princess?” he asked.

You forced yourself to look into those beautiful blue eyes, and that devilish smile. “No, I don’t want you to stop Luke.”

“That’s what I needed to hear.” He bent his head down at your jawline, this time starting on the side of your jaw bone. He sucked at the skin and you bit your cheek down on a moan. He moved down from your neck pressing harder and making it harder for you to control yourself.

“Luke,” you moaned.

“Yes?”

“No marks.”

He smirked. “It’s a little late for that one.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “You suck.”

“I don’t think you're exactly in the position to be saying those sort of things,” he warned.

You raised your eyebrows. As if he thought you would back down that easily. “Really?”

He licked his lips and shrugged.

“Make me,” you insisted.

“Bad choice of words,” he threatened. In a second his shirt was off and one of his arms held your’s down and above you.

This time he noticed when you swallowed. “Nervous?” he asked, his lips quirked up.

He might’ve been starting to get to you, but you weren’t going to admit to it. “You wish Patterson,” you tested.

His head dipped down towards your collarbone. He lightly sucked on it and gradually increased his intensity until your body unwillingly gave you away and you gutturally moaned.

He jutted his chin out, the fire in his eyes on stage was nothing in comparison to this. “What about now?”

“Yes, Luke,” you groaned out.

He somehow managed to pull your shirt off with you laying down, and managed to unhook your bra with minimal difficulties.

His mouth softly sucked on the very top of your nipple.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

As he continued sucking at a rapid rate you felt the knot in your stomach twisting further, just as you thought it was going to release Luke stopped.

“How much do you want it?” he asked as he slowly pulled your pants down.

You were not going to give him the satisfaction of begging.

You felt a finger glide across your clit ever so slightly and back and forth he kept going, ever so slowly.

A whimper escaped your lips.

“Beg for me, that’s all you have to do,” he promised. He was most definitely enjoying himself.

He moved back up to your nipples but instead he moved as slow as he could, he was trying to break you.

“Come on princess, you know you want it,” he taunted.

A sole finger swiped down your pussy and your breath hitched.

“Luke please,” you moaned.

“What please? I think it has something to do with fucking you silly,” he hinted. He once again crawled over top of you to be able to see your face. Like a predator stalking prey.

“Please rail the shit out of me Luke,” you whined.

“That was all you had to say princess.”

[uglypastels]

To the Beat // drummer!Tom 1/2

(a/n) here it is!!! it took about a decade of my life but i think it was worth it  also shoutout to @duskholland​ for hearing out my ideas when i was brainstorming and together with @captainpeggy40​  for getting me through my breakdowns while writing. i got it finished!! <3 I really went all out with this fic, so i hope you guys enjoy it!! part 2 will come... sometime this week ;)

word count: 7939 (unnecessary content GALORE) 

warning: drinking, swearing, crowded spaces, part 2 contains smut 

you can find the band’s setlist here

not all songs are mentioned in the fic but it’s songs that i would really love to see them play haha. if anyone would be interested, i can make a seperate post on how i imagine them playing it (who sings and stuff idk)

Read part 2 here <---> extra headcanons here

With the right stranger, one night can feel like a lifetime.

“Will you please come?” your friend begged you over the phone. “It’s gonna be really fun!” 

“You know, you say that a lot, yet I never have as much fun as you promise.” You sat down on your bed, looking out the window as the rain hit every surface outside. It was not exactly the weather you felt like going out in. 

“Then that’s on your extremely high expectations, not on me.” She stated, “But pleeease.” She kept on whining, and you knew she wouldn’t stop until you gave in. It always went like this. Always. 

“Ugh, fine.” you fell back on the soft mattress, your head only missing the pillow by an inch. “Where is it actually?” There was the question you both dreaded. You, because you knew you wouldn’t like the answer. Her, because she knew you wouldn’t either. 

“It’s at Suki’s,” she mumbled, but you could still hear her just fine. 

“That’s where you work right- please don’t tell me you’re working tonight?!” you groaned into the phone. 

“I am, but I’ll be done around 9.30 I think, so there’s still plenty of time for us to hang out! Besides, you already said yes, and NO TAKE BACKSIES!” she said this all extremely fast and screamed the last two words into your ear. Then, on top of that, hung up as soon as she finished, not giving you even a second to fight back. Not sure what happened, you stared at the black screen of your phone in confusion. 

She said the concert started at nine o’clock. Did she really expect you to go to this thing and spend half an hour by yourself? Or did she want you to sit at the bar while she poured drinks for everyone? Either way, none of those options felt appealing. For a solid minute, you contemplated just not going, just… not showing up. Turning off your phone and watching a movie or something at home. 

But at the same time, you hadn’t left the house for a long time. And it was Friday night. Why not go out and see some obscure little band. What was their name again? Your friend had mentioned it, but you already forgot. Maybe it was for the better too. That way, you couldn’t look them up beforehand, and if they were shit, you would just find out there and not have another thing to be dreading as you got ready. Or maybe they would be good. Then it would be a pleasant surprise on the spot. 

You checked the time. 7:27pm. That gave you about an hour to get ready and then some time to actually get to the bar. Should be doable. 

So, you hopped in the shower to get all fresh again. Even if it would all get ruined later on in the night by standing in a sweaty crowd. It’s the effort to look presentable that counts. Then, you picked out an outfit that would be comfortable in the before mentioned crowd. You could never go wrong with the simple jeans and a t-shirt combo. 

Looking in the mirror, the thought of Not Going popped up in your mind again. There was nothing really obliging you to go. And the idea of standing there listening to the loud music, whether it was good or not, sounded slightly exhausting. 

No, you reminded yourself, it would do you good to leave the house once in a while. Have “fun”. You checked the time once more, 8:14. You had done everything a bit quicker than you expected. The Uber you had arranged for yourself would be there in a few minutes. So, you were stuck in that kind of waiting limbo, sitting on your couch, not sure what to do. Eventually, you put on your shoes and got your keys and were ready to head out. 

The drive was quick and thankfully, mostly quiet. It was only a minute or two before you reached your destination that the driver decided to ask you where you were headed. 

“Concert,” you said hesitantly. Why did these people always want to know your business? Thankfully, the man didn’t ask much more. And then it was time for you to get out of the car. The drive actually took much less time than you had expected and there was still some time left before the band would start to perform. 

Suki’s was a bar downtown, in the basement of some kind of law firm. Their whole thing was that they let new bands and artists play each week so they could get some of the public’s interest going. Make themselves known to the world. It was literally and figuratively, an underground following that it had. Many, but at the same time, nobody knew about it. It was a secret amongst music lovers. Considering the bar wanted to stay its own secret, you never understood the bright neon lights above the entrance, going down the staircase all the way to the actual hall. 

The bar itself wasn’t too big. Enough space for a small stage along one wall, a bar on the opposite side, and the rest was space for the crowd to either enjoy or hate the music being played. When you walked in the room was still relatively empty. You saw two guys setting up equipment on stage, you assumed it was the band. Behind them was a black banner with “Winter Solstice” written in scratchy white letters. Between the words, a star that was drawn on in precisely the same rough manner. You had to admit, it was a cool name. 

Considering there weren’t many people there yet, you headed for the bar to get yourself a drink before it would be too crowded to even reach the counter. And there stood your friend, behind the bar talking to some guy. They were both laughing at something as you walked up. 

“y/n! You came!” you squealed out, “what can I get ya?” 

“A beer?” you said it more like a question. 

“Coming right up.” And with that, your friend walked off to the tap to pour you your drink. It was more out of reflex when you sat down on the stool, you leaned your head on your hand, but you understood the question from the stranger when he spoke up. 

“Not looking forward to it?”

Still with your chin on your knuckles, you turned to face him. 

“Huh? Oh no, I mean… she kind of made me come here, but-” you tried not to sound too pessimistic, but the guy saw right through you.

“So, I guess the answer is yes.” He chuckled. Right then, your friend came holding your drink and put it in front of you. 

“I’ll put it on your tap.” She was going to join the conversation but right then a group of tonight’s spectators walked up in need of drinks, so she was soon off again. 

“I’m not not looking forward to it?” nothing in your voice made it sound like you were sure of yourself, but it was enough for him. You took a sip of your beer, which you could feel helping the situation. While doing that you looked over the brim of the tall glass to look at your conversation partner. Like you, he was drinking a beer himself and considering it was almost empty, he had done that either very fast, or he had been there for a while already. 

Next, you took a look at him. From the profile, he looked pretty good. He was wearing a loose tank, showing off his arms. His dark curly hair was held back with a black cap that he wore backwards. What definitely stood out to you was his jawline. It looked like you could cut yourself on it just with the slightest of touches. For everyone’s sake, you quickly turned your gaze over to the extensive liquor collection in front of you. But you could see in the reflection behind the bottles how he was smiling to himself. He definitely saw you stare. This was awkward, and you only got here two minutes ago.

“So, do you know the band?” you asked in the hopes to weed out this weird situation you had created. For some reason, your question made him smile. In that type of way as if you had just mentioned an inside joke. Except you weren’t in on it, so you couldn’t laugh along. 

“Yeah, they’re alright.” He shrugged. Then, as if he suddenly remembered something, he shot up straight in his seat. “I’m Tom, by the way.” 

“y/n.” Then you remembered how your friend practically screamed out your name when you walked in, “but you already knew that.” Your phone vibrated with a text, so you took it out and immediately saw the time, it was already past nine. You looked over at the stage where the two guys were trying to untangle some chords. Clearly, it wasn’t starting anytime soon. 

“What kind of music do they play?” You asked Tom while still looking at the band trying to get ready. 

“A bit of everything, I suppose.” 

You bit your cheek not to say anything that might come off rude, but he could still read you. 

“I guess that wasn’t the right answer?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“I just hoped to get something more specific, but as long as they’re good, I’ll enjoy it.” You took another sip of your beer as an excuse to shut up. He must think you’re such a bitch at this point. You saw him glance over your shoulder at the stage and then smile at you. 

“I like you.” there was that chuckle of his again, “I’ll see you later, then.” And he got up. You were gonna ask why later? Why couldn’t you hang out now? You didn’t like to admit it, but you enjoyed his company, even though it was only brief and most of the time you spent it making yourself look like a moron. As superficial it made you sound, you simply enjoyed the presents of a good looking guy like him.

You were going to ask him, but he quickly disappeared into the crowd that started to form along the foot of the stage. More and more people were coming and joining in. The two guys from the band had finally untangled their chords and were placing their guitars over their shoulders, and plugged them into the amplifiers. That’s when you noticed that a spot was empty on the stage. The big drum set had no occupant yet. 

So, while everyone waited for the drummer to show up, you took this time to look at the other two band members, trying to decide which one was the cuter one. 

That turned out to be slightly more difficult of a task, you quickly realised. Though they were both very different, they were both also extremely good looking. There was the blonde, strumming a few simple chords on his guitar to warm up. Even in the dim light, you could see how perfectly chiselled his face was. He was wearing a slightly oversized button-up shirt with about half of the buttons open. The skinny jeans didn’t seem comfortable to you, but he made them work. The rings on his fingers reflected in the lights as he kept on strumming. 

The other had a bit more of a playful vibe around him. His curly mop of hair bounced with every move he made. You could hear his loud and contagious laugh all the way from the other side of the room without the need for a microphone. His outfit was something completely different compared to the blonde. It consisted of a baggy t-shirt (that you could read the band logo on), with ripped dungarees that were only attached on one side. He had rolled them up, showing off his bright converse. His bass guitar was currently hanging behind his back as he adjusted the mic stand one last time. There was something familiar about him, though you were sure had never seen him before. 

Then finally, a third person joined them. People cheered since it meant that they could finally start playing. You tried to get a good look at him before he hid behind the drum set. Hair was hiding beneath a cap, tank top… wait… was it-

You got up and walked through the audience. There weren’t that many people, so it was reasonably easy to get to the front. Or, almost at the front row, standing right in front of them felt a bit intimidating. Now you could see all three of them much better, and there was no denying it. Your new acquaintance Tom was the drummer. And when you looked over at the curly bassist again, you realised why he looked so familiar. It was not an identical resemblance, but there was enough that made you think they were related somehow. 

You watched Tom spin one of his drumsticks in his hand. He had the biggest smile on his face, then he caught your eye and winked. The cheeky bastard knew exactly what he was doing, you were sure of it. He was waiting for your surprised reaction, and you fell for it completely—hook, line and sinker. 

The curly one got up to his microphone. “Hey everybody, we’re Winter Solstice,” his voice was much deeper than you had expected. Especially, considering that he actually looked younger than the other two, you noticed. “We thought you’d appreciate some more known songs tonight, so join in whenever.” 

Alright, they were gonna do covers. That was not a wrong move at all. A lot of bands want to show off their own music, but most of the time that leaves the audience just swaying awkwardly because they don’t know the lyrics or what to expect. 

“Here’s one you all should know.” 

The blonde started playing his guitar, and it only took a second or two before everyone realised what song it was. Mr Brightside. It sounded a bit different, as their attempt to make the song their own, but the riff was unmistakably Mr Brightside. Everyone around you immediately cheered and started to dance along, waiting to sing the lyrics. You were too, of course, but all you could think about was Tom playing in the back. He looked so focused, but still didn’t let it sit in the way of enjoying the song. 

In the song, the drums probably only started a beat before the lyrics, so you missed out on the first few words, but quickly you were singing too. 

“But she’s touching his chest now, he takes off her dress now. Let me gooo,” the blonde guitarist sang. His voice wasn’t perfect, it was rough, some might have called it cursive, but in that right sort of way. It fit well with the rest of the band and how they played. In just a minute, they had gotten the entire room hyped up. Everyone was into it. Maybe it was because of the song choice, but you doubted it. A song like that can be tricky to sing to a new crowd. If you screwed it up, they’d hate you forever.  

That was definitely not the case here, they had the crowd in the palms of their hands. With each beat, you were pulled in…or, was that just you? 

The second verse started, and it was the bassist that began to sing: “I'm coming out of my cage, and I've been doing just fine-” There was no clear description of his voice. At least you couldn’t really pinpoint it. There was definitely that playfulness in it that he had been showing through everything he did. He couldn’t stay still, jumping in place, making his curls bump up and down as he went. 

“It was only a kiss” 

It was Tom that said the little interjection in the song. You had only looked his way at the end, while the other was already singing, but you felt as if he had been looking at you directly. No, he wasn’t. Why would he? You shook the thought off and continued enjoying the performance of the three men. You sang along just like everyone else. 

And then the song ended. It was almost unbelievable that it had only been one song that they played, but they moved on to the next quickly. 

The guitar faded out but came straight back, accompanied by a heavy bass line. Some people around you recognised the melody, but it took you a moment or two. Then it went quiet. The blonde leaned into his microphone, whispering the words. 

“I’m the invisible man,” guitar riff “I’m the invisible man,” guitar, “Incredible how you can- see right through me!” His voice got louder as Tom joined in with the drums. Then those few seconds of bass followed which actually sent shivers up your spine. To put it simply, you were a sucker for good bass and beat. But what was it about them that sounded so good? You couldn’t think of anything particular that would have set them apart from all the other artists you had seen perform in the club through the years… 

Still, seeing them have so much fun on stage, it was truly intoxicating, you wanted to join them. You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen someone jump around on that little stage while playing bass. You couldn’t wait to find out what their names were, but for now, “the curly bassist” didn’t take a second to stand still. The only time he stood in one spot was when he had to sing, and even then he moved around a lot. 

The others didn’t have that same luxury. Of course, Tom did not have a lot of options, sitting behind his drum set. Yet still, he managed to light up the stage with his bright smile and the passion he put into his drumming. Any time you looked at him, you didn’t want to look away- which was hard, considering that the other two were also a great joy to watch. 

The blonde, in his turn, stayed on his side of the stage, being somewhat stuck with his microphone since he had the most vocals. But he still had a great connection with the audience, you felt like. 

Before you knew it, the second song had also come to an end. Cheers and applause erupted in front of the band, with you contributing to it as well, of course. 

“Thank you, thank you,” the bassist took a little bow. Even though they weren’t playing any song, he still slapped one of the strings mindlessly. “Like I said, we’re Winter Solstice. My name’s Harry.” He introduced himself. Finally, you could call him something else than the curly bassist. Even though it was a very catchy nickname, you thought yourself. 

“Here on the guitar,” Harry pointed out, “Is my good friend Harrison.” Harrison waved to the crowd, receiving screams from the audience as if it was filled with banshees. 

“In the back,” Tom immediately started a soft drum roll, but Harry didn’t wait that long, “that’s Tom.” Tom reacted with a face that could only be described as “bruh”, making several people around you laugh. You wondered if it was rehearsed or if this was just how they were. Either way, it was cute. 

Harry talked some more about how they were excited to play tonight, but you were looking at Tom. You watched him grab a water bottle and drink half of it in almost one chug. When he pulled it away from his mouth, you saw that he caught you staring. Even though you were between dozens of people, even though the light that was shining in his face- he saw you. And he winked again. In the next moment, you had to think if the heat burning through your body was an effect of that little gesture or because of how warm it was in the room. For your own sake, you went with the second option. 

“Alright, here’s another song for you all,” it was a voice you hadn’t heard speak before. Harrison. “Here’s: You Oughta Know.” There was a mixed reaction from the audience, including you. Of course, you knew the Alanis Morisette song, but you had never heard it be played by men.  It was definitely an interesting choice for them to play, especially after the Killers and Queen. 

“I want you to know that I am happy for you,” it was Tom that started singing, as he drummed softly. You tried to control your thoughts as he kept on singing. Then the pre-chorus began, and you were shocked at how well they harmonised. 

“Cause the love that you gave that we made wasn't able to make it enough for you to be open wide.” It actually gave you chills. How were you so excited about listening to three strangers sing? 

At the chorus itself, everyone in the room went wild, singing along loudly. It was clear that the people were sold on this new version of the song. It was all fine. You were enjoying the show. It was actually fun. And then, Tom sang the next line- 

“It was a slap in the face. How quickly I was replaced. And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?” It sure was a slap in the face. You had to remind yourself that it was just the lyrics of the song. And he was just a guy on stage that you had only exchanged a few words with prior. Yet, you couldn’t focus on anything from that moment on. You could barely comprehend their version of “Are You Gonna Be My Girl”, not even really understanding that they were playing a different song. It was just a big blur. But maybe it was for the better, because could you really cope with Tom singing the titular phrase of the song in that husky way that he did... debatable. 

When you woke up from your daze, Tom had stood up to show the crowd the beat to clap to. You joined in before anyone noticed how far out of it you indeed were. Harrison finished the song off with a falsetto and then it was already time for the next song. 

This time you knew what to do. You wanted to record at least some part of the show. And when harry started a bass solo, you made sure to get at least a bit of it and continued filming from there, ready to post it on your Instagram later on. Harrison joined in with the guitar, and you actually had no idea what song they were playing. More people didn’t seem to recognise the song immediately, which visibly amused the musicians. They couldn’t hide their grins even behind the microphones. Once again, the harmonies… how did they sound so good? 

As the song continued, the more sure you were that you had heard it before, but it must have been very different from the original. No, actually… How did you not recognise Dua Lipa? It was not hard to forget about the original when you got to listen to this version. How had each song so far been this good, you still didn’t understand. You didn’t want it to end. 

But unfortunately, right after that, they took another break from singing. 

“Alright!” Harrison cheered (more squeals from his side of the audience followed. Apparently he had started to gain quite the following). “The next song is another classic, I like to think.” People whooed. “So we’d like some help from you guys if that’s okay.” The crowd seemed to be into it, so Tom followed with the instructions. 

“Okay, so we’re gonna start playing in a sec, and Harry will sing a little melody. Just copy that, and we’ll be on our way.” In the meantime, Harry had gone off stage to grab a bottle of water, so everyone had to wait for a second. This gave Tom the opportunity to freestyle on his drum set. It was a simple beat, but it progressed into a more complex set. He, however, did it effortlessly. 

Finally, Harry came back running, he threw bottles to the other two, which they both caught without a problem. Tom started to press the bass drum steadily, layering more on top of it. Then Harry joined with the bass, and ultimately, Harrison’s guitar finished it off. Harry leaned into the microphone. 

“Ooooo-ooo-oo-oo, ooooo-ooo-oo-oo, oooo-oo-oo,” he almost whistled, but not quite. He continued a few times, together with Tom and Harrison until everyone in the room was singing along. Then made that kind of gesture to show you had to stop. Harrison sang the verse. Anytime it was your turn, you’d just follow Harry. 

You had been to many concerts, but not many new bands had much luck in getting a full crowd to participate in the song. But by the way they played, everyone just wished they could be in the band, playing along with them. Even if it was just dangling the triangle. You, however, didn’t want that, necessarily. You assumed that it was the fact that you hadn’t been out of the house in so long, that now that you had the chance, everything felt hundred times more great. So a concert that was already amazing, suddenly felt like a euphoric, once in a lifetime, experience… though that might go a bit too far. And it for sure helped that all three band members were hot. Like, really really hot. 

Literally, too, the room was getting really warm at this point, and the guys were visibly hot also. It didn’t stop them from performing at 110% though. A few songs more passed by and Harry was still jumping around the stage. Harrison sang every note perfectly as he slew that guitar of his and Tom… 

You could barely look at Tom. Playing the drums as hectically (in the good sense) as he did, you thought he would be exhausted by now. But he still had that big perfect smile on his face. The sweat was dripping down his arms, but it just highlighted his biceps, making it very hard for you to concentrate on the music. And then, no matter what he was doing, he would find you in the crowd and smirk or wink, making you even more flustered than you were before. The first time, you thought he was doing it to someone else. But then it happened again, and again. And the beat of drums led your heart. You could feel it in your throat as it kept pumping with the loud music. 

It was during their little break which they used to goof around and play the intro of “Chelsea Dagger”, that you decided to go back to the bar. Your friend had said she wouldn’t leave you alone for the entirety of the concert, but you were already quite some songs in and there was still no sign of her. And you quickly realised why that was. Since the show had started, the entire room had filled up with people. You had never seen it be so crowded, in fact. And then the bar was packed with people asking for their drinks. 

Your friend was indeed there, with another bartender, doing her best to pour the drinks quickly. But more and more people got thirsty, so it was easy to assume you would have to spend the rest of the night alone as well.

By that time, the band started on the next song of their setlist, and you really thought they were playing one big joke on you. Or at least this Tom guy was. As he loudly sang Sex on Fire, by Kings of Leon, you decided to sit this one song out from the front row and stay back, near the bar. It actually did you well, because it was much less hot than upfront. You could just stay there for the rest of the show. They had been through around ten songs already, so they must be done soon, either way, you thought. 

And you were right. Ending with Come Together, the applause was bigger than through the entire night. The boys finished with extended solo’s of their respective instruments and a bow, and it was really over. Harry came up to the microphone one last time as the other two were already getting off stage. 

“Thank you! We are Winter Solstice! Buy our merch at the door! GOODNIGHT!” 

The idea of buying a t-shirt was pretty fun. And apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought that. Far from it, actually, The line at the little merch booth quickly exceeded the length of the small concert hall. You wondered if they even had enough things to sell. Would it even be worth it to stand in line? You just waited for the stream of new fans to cool down.

Eventually, it did. Slowly, but surely, the line got shorter. You also noticed that there were a few people that had the exact same idea as you had, so you joined the queue before the rest could. You didn’t even have to wait that long. Before you knew it, you were standing at the little table. There were piles of t-shirts and cd’s, and there were more boxes behind the table too. They really came prepared. Harrison had just been folding up an empty box when you walked up. 

“Hi. Can I get a (your size)” you asked, already pulling out your card to pay, “and a CD?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Harry grabbed a shirt for you with a smile. Tom had been talking to the girl that had been in line in front of you, but he quickly turned to look at you when he heard your voice. 

“y/n!” He finished the conversation with the other girl before moving over to join his bandmate. 

“Hey,” you wish it hadn’t been so, but a lot changed since the first time you spoke to him, let it only have been about an hour. There was something about him being in the band you just watched perform and buying his merch, that made you feel like a little school girl standing next to him. 

“I thought you had left.” He noticed you leave? Not the point. 

“No, I just went to the back. It was getting a bit hot for me upfront.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “Did you enjoy the show then?” 

“Yes!” you said, a bit too loud, “You guys were great.” You looked at the CD that Harry had just handed you and smiled. “And I was wondering if you could maybe sign this for me?” Out of nowhere, Harrison appeared behind Tom, grabbing the CD from your hands and putting his signature right at the centre of the packaging. Just as quickly as he appeared, he went back to whatever he was doing before. But not without sending you a wink first. What was it with these guys and winking? Not that you really minded it. 

Harry took the slightly more polite approach, waiting for you to hand him the CD and he signed it above Harrison’s signature. Then he handed it over, together with the marker, to Tom. 

“So, we got ourselves a number one fan, huh?” 

“No, I’ll just wait ‘til you guys get famous so I can sell it on the internet and get rich.” That was probably not the response Tom had expected, which you immensely enjoyed. Next to him, Harry erupted in a fit of laughter. 

“Haz, did you hear that? She thinks we’ll be famous.” His laugh was even better close up. While Harry and Harrison kept on laughing, you used the moment to speak to Tom, one on one. 

“So why didn’t you tell me you were in the band?” you asked. 

“What does it matter,” he chuckled.

“You let me ask all those questions about the band, it’s fucking embarrassing, man.” you couldn’t help but laugh yourself. 

“Heh, sorry.” he took off his cap to rearrange his hair since some of it had fallen in his eyes through the night. You didn’t know what else to say, so the conversation died down. Then you remembered that there was still a bit of a line behind you of people that wanted to buy the merch as well. 

“Let me just pay for these, and I’ll be off.” 

“No, it’s fine, on the house,” Tom said. You looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Are you sure? It’s really no problem.” 

“Yeah, just promise me one thing.” 

“What?” You raised an eyebrow, not sure what to expect. You didn’t want to jump onto that wagon too quickly. 

“Will you stay? I’d really like to hang out.” 

You weren’t sure what to answer at first. You did want to stay and talk to him, but it was getting late, and you had been standing for a long time, and you were kinda gross from how warm it was during the concert… but Tom was really hot. And he asked so nicely. 

“Sure.” you gave in. “I’ll hang out with my friend at the bar and let ya get back to-” you pointed around the table to make your point across. He nodded and waved you goodbye as you walked away, clutching on to your newly bought merchandise.

Just like you thought, your friend was indeed still at the bar, cleaning up leftover glasses from the counter. She saw you walk over and you could tell she saw something different in you. 

“Look at you beaming, girl! What happened?” she put away the half-dried glass to listen to you. 

“Nothing?” you said casually. She saw right through you though, so you just decided to give up the little act. “Tom asked me to wait behind for him.” You bit your lip, expecting to get a lecture from her. But none of that happened. Instead, she squealed out in, what seemed like, excitement. 

“Ooh, Tom is such a great guy!” 

“You know him?” you asked, surprised. 

“Well, he was the one that got their band the gig here, so we talked here and there, mostly planning,” she explained. “And I mean, look at him.” she sighed and her eyes glazed over a bit when she looked in the direction of the merch table. Not sure what else to do, you followed her action and glanced over. Of course, right at that time, Tom decided to look in your direction as well. He smiled and waved lightly, making your cheeks heat up and quickly look away. Your friend, however, waved back enthusiastically. 

“So you think it’s safe for me-” what were you even gonna ask her? 

“Go have fun, I say. But if anything does happen, remember the codeword?” Her tone changed to a more serious one, which you appreciated. You had agreed ages ago on a codeword to use. In case a date turned for the worst, or generally if something felt off. 

“Broccoli, baby. I know.” 

“Broccoli.” She held up her hand for a high five, which you gladly accepted. 

You chatted for a little bit longer. Every few minutes tho, you’d be sure to glance over your shoulder to see if the merch line was getting any shorter. It didn’t seem like it. There was simply no end to it. You felt yourself getting frustrated. To the point that your friend actually pointed it out, snorting from holding in her laughter. 

“He has got you whipped, hasn’t he?” she bumped your shoulder playfully. All you did was roll your eyes. Which, actually, said everything she needed to know. He did, didn’t he? You always had a soft spot for musicians, dated a few. But comparing them to Tom now… it felt like a joke. There was something about this guy that made you want to know more about him. You wanted to see him play and sing again. You wanted- do a lot of things. But you had to get that out of your head. Let the night speak for itself, see where it leads you. If it would be his bedroom… that would be fine. Just fine. 

You knew you were crazy for thinking all of this, but a girl can dream, right? 

You looked across the room and were glad to see that there were only a few people left. Harry had already started packing everything up that would most likely not be sold that night. You watched the three of them make some small chat with the people walking by, but all your real focus was on Tom and his deep stare right at you. It made your heart beat faster. With his arms across his chest, the muscles seemed even more prominent. 

He was suddenly pulled back into the conversation, and it was as if he changed into a different person. All bubbly, none of that- what even was it that he looked at you? You decided to not think about it too much. One does not do well when dwelling about anything. 

Finally, the last person bought their shirt, and they were done. Hoping it didn’t make you look too desperate, you didn’t waste a second to walk over to them. Harrison and Tom were helping Harry pack up the rest of the things that were left on the table. 

“Hey,” you said awkwardly. Tom almost dropped the stack of shirts he was holding. Again, the attention fell to his arms. You had to force yourself to look up at his face, which didn’t help much either, but it made it easier to think thoughts that would not mean a one-way ticket to Hell. 

“Hi! I’m so glad you stayed,” he said after putting those shirts in the box. “I thought we could go grab something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” He spoke really fast, just showing how excited he was to talk to you again. To be honest, you weren’t necessarily hungry, but going out to eat with Tom didn’t sound too bad. 

“Don’t you have to pack up?” You pointed back to the stage that still counted all of their equipment. 

“No, we’re playing here tomorrow, again,” Harrison explained. 

“Oh, cool.” Was all you said. It was cool, you just didn’t know how to say anything without sounding dumb. 

“Well, shall we? There’s a diner on the way to my flat. It has the best burgers.” Tom exclaimed. You ignored the little mention of his apartment and focused on the burgers. He wasn’t suggesting for you to come over to his place. It was just a fact… right? 

“Lead the way,” you told him, but before you left, you turned to the other two members of Winter Solstice. “It was nice meeting you guys.” Everyone waved, and so on, and you were off to eat. 

It was almost midnight by the time you got there, but the diner Tom had mentioned did advertise as a 24/7. And it held up. When you walked in, you were practically hit in the face with the delicious smell of pie. You sat down in a booth next to the large window and very soon after a waitress walked up. 

“What can I get ya?” she asked, flipping her little notebook open.  

“I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries, thanks,” Tom asked. Then it was your turn. 

“Just large fries for me, thank you.” The waitress wrote it all down, then continued to ask if you wanted anything to drink. 

“Ooh, do you have milkshakes?” The woman smiled and nodded. “So a chocolate milkshake then.” You ordered. 

“Make it two,” Tom added. Then the waitress went off, Tom leaned on the table toward you, with his hands in front of him. “So, just fries, huh?”

“I’m not super hungry, and I wasn’t going to steal your fries,” you explained, making Tom laugh and shake his head. 

“You’re interesting, you know that?” 

“I like to think so, yeah,” you answered straightforwardly. It was a pity you had not gotten your drinks yet, or you would have taken a very nonchalant sip. You leaned your chin on your hand, just like you did at the bar before the show. Except for this time, there was a smile hiking up the corners of your mouth. Tom mirrored your position. 

“So how did you guys come up with the name?” you had been wondering that ever since you saw that banner hanging on the stage. It was always interesting to find out the thinking process like. 

“You gotta ask Harry, he came up with it one day, and we just went along. He’s the more artistic one of the bunch.” Of course he is. Well, that didn’t answer anything then. But another question popped up in your mind.

“Are you guys related?” 

Tom smiled at that question. “Yeah, Harry is my younger brother. Harrison has been my best mate ever since I can remember. We’ve always been close and messing around. Then one day we decided to grab some old instruments from the attic and- sorry, I’m probably boring you, aren’t I?” He took off his cap again and ruffled his hair. You thought he would put it back on, but he left it on the table. There was pretty good lighting at Suki’s, but the colourful spotlights were no match to the bright LEDs of the diner. 

“I don’t see how you thought that was boring,” you assured him. You truly enjoyed his little story, talking about his friend and brother. You had doubted the choice of going out to eat so late at night with a stranger, but now the reason was apparent. He didn’t want to be strangers-he wanted to get to know you. And you wanted to get to know him.

The waitress came back with two large milkshakes, topped with whipped cream and syrup. She said that the food would be ready in a few more minutes and left you to continue your conversation. You nudged Tom on to go on where he stopped previously. 

 “So yeah,” he cleared his throat, “we played and thought, hey that doesn’t sound shit, and we practised for a few months and decided some time ago, why not try and play.”

“Was this your first gig?” you asked in disbelief. He shook his head, though. 

“We’ve performed a few times, but this was the first one that felt… real, you know. Maybe it was just me, but I felt this great connection with the crowd, and it felt great.” You nodded along with every word, without realising that you had been getting lost in his eyes. He had been looking into yours as he spoke about that connection, and it made you feel that maybe, just maybe, he meant you specifically. 

“y/n?” He eventually asked, waking you up. You almost spilt your milkshake from the abrupt movement you made as you tried to sit up.

“What? Sorry.” You held the glass until it didn’t shake. 

“I asked if you enjoyed it? The show?” 

“Didn’t you ask that already?” Stupid way to answer! “But yeah, I loved it. You were really great- I mean, all of you.” but especially you, you wanted to add on, but that felt like going too far. As you were trying to come up with a normal-sounding answer there, Tom sipped from his milkshake. Something in his eyes told you that he could tell what you wanted to say, and that thought scared you a little bit. All you wanted to do was to give this hot guy a good impression of yourself, was that really that hard? 

But he didn’t say anything about it. Just continued the conversation as you hoped he would.

“Well, I’m glad. Honestly, you had scared me a bit back then, when you left,” he admitted. And there were the heart palpitations again, beating faster and faster. You grabbed the cold milkshake because you could feel yourself getting hotter. 

“How so?” you choked out. 

“Just because I could tell you weren’t exactly looking forward to the show, and then I saw you leave and didn’t come back. I thought you didn’t like us.” Us. He said “us”. Then we did it feel like he just wanted to say “me”? 

“I wanted to check up on my friend, and then I realised that it was much colder in the back, so I stayed there.” you explained again, “But why be worried about me, there were plenty of other people enjoying themselves.” 

He was about to answer when the waitress walked up with two large plates. She put them on the table with a smile, which you noticed was more directed towards Tom than you. He responded with a tight smile himself, but only shortly, turning back to you quickly to respond to your question. 

“No one there was as cute as you.” 

“What?” This time you made sure not to make any sudden movements to save your food and drink on the table. Did he really say that? But he didn’t clarify himself, he just smirked, enjoying your flushed expression a little too much. He put a fry in his mouth and still ate it with that smug smirk. You just went and ate some of your own fries, avoiding eye contact with him. You just needed a second to sort your thoughts. 

That second lasted a little longer, but at least you had the food to use as an excuse to avoid “awkward silence”. 

“So do you play any instruments?” he asked. You looked up to see that he had almost finished his burger. When you saw the dish being brought up, you thanked yourself and any god watching out there that you didn’t choose to order one. It was absolutely massive, meaning you would make a complete mess out of yourself—a sight for no one to see but your tv screen on a lonely night. 

“Uh, I can play a few notes on the piano but all very beginner's level.” You dipped a fry in your milkshake. 

“Like what?” He seemed genuinely interested. 

“Uhm.. the Flintstones theme song, for one. There was more, but I haven’t played in ages, so I doubt I remember anything.” 

“Flintstones, huh, nice.” He took the last bite of his burger. Knowing how weird it is to look at someone when they’re eating, you looked out the window for a second. It was dark outside, and the rain had come back, letting all the street lights reflect in the asphalt. 

You both finished the remains of your fries and milkshakes while making some more small talk. You got up simultaneously from the booth. Was it over now? You hoped not. You didn’t want to say goodbye. 

You grabbed your things while Tom paid for the food. Then you realised he had left his cap on the table so grabbed it too. But your hands were already full, so you decided to just put it on. Backwards, just like he had been wearing it through the evening.

“It looks good on you,” he commented when you met at the door. 

“Thanks,” there was the heat up your cheeks again. “And thank you for everything else, I had a really great night.” you were about to take the hat off to give it back, but he stopped you.

“It doesn’t have to end here, darling.”

To be continued...

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to be tagged in part 2! 

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio 

tagging: 

@definitely-not-black-cat​​ @artemisiaarm​​ @nerdyhockeygirl​​ @miraclesoflove​​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​ @m19friend @creative-happenings​​ @parker-holland-osterfield​​ @fanficparker​​ @fanficscuziranout​​ @peterparkoure​​ @xxtomxo​​ @happywolves81​​ @captainbuckyy​​ @tra-gicx​​ @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu​​ @kangaroobunny​​ @petersunderoos96​​  @the-lost-fairy-tale​​ @nerd-domland​​ @sleepybesson​​ @rissa067​​ @the-queen-procrastinator​​ @scarletteclipze​​ @screeching-student-unknown​​ @tomhollanders2013​​ @miraclesoflove​​ @playinonaloop​​​ @queenoflostspirits​​ @roses-hxlland​​​ @hereiamhereigo​​​ @sunnydays0803​​​ @averyfosterthoughts​​​ @moorehollandplz​​​ @beiroviski​​​ @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21​​​ @lmaotshollandd​​​ @badbitchydecisions​​​ @tikapollak​​​ @starkeybabie​​​ @awesomehritz​​​ @madzleigh01​​​ @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey​​​ @quaksonhehe​​​ @mountainsforwords​​​ @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex​​​ @ethereal-beauty-p​​​ @perspectiveparker​​​ @slytherin-chaser​​​ @worldoftom​​​ @moonysoftt​​​ @peeterparkr​​​ @wazzupmrstark​​​ @saintlavrents​​ @peachybloomss​​ @blissfulparker​​ @chloecreatesfictions​​  @fallinfortom​​ @londonspidey​​ @spidey-reids-2003​ @hollandcreep​

[ahundredtimesover]

Friday Nights and Take-Out Drabble (2)

Your eyes are pretty... so are your lips.

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: strangers to friends to lovers, popstar/idol!jk, fluff, angst, future smut; this is a dialogue-heavy series so read if you’re into that!

Warnings: foul language, heavy drinking 

Word count: ~1,000

Series summary: You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the cafe, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he.

series masterlist

A/N: Flashback to that first kiss! 

#

You close your eyes, inhale the cool night air from the half open window of the car, and release a breath. 

“That isn’t gonna magically sober you up, Y/N.”

You turn to your lap where Jungkook is lying, his smug face so beautiful you want to smack it. 

“I’m just appreciating the scent of Spring, Jungkook. It smells like flowers and food.”

He was about to retort something about you and food again, but he closes his eyes instead and enjoys the bit of wind he can feel from where he’s lying. 

He’s tired but content, that much you can see from his face. The second show of their Seoul concert just finished, which was followed by dinner and drinks with the guys. He offered to take you home after he convinced you to join them. “We’re leaving soon for the Asia leg and yeah,” he’d said, the words ‘I’ll miss you’ getting caught on his tongue.

You close your eyes too, enjoying the silence, recalling the show you’d just experienced. It wasn’t the first time you’d watched their concert - Jieun has dragged you to some - but it’s the first one with front row seats to see the guys at their happiest, performing truly something they’re all born to do. 

You suddenly remember Taehyung’s funny dance moves from earlier, Yoongi's flirting with the crowd, and Hoseok laughing so hard he fell. You chortled, earning you an amused look from Jungkook whom you thought had fallen asleep. 

You tell him this and he indulges you. You spend the remainder of the ride laughing, not just from tonight but also from the guys’ earlier days. It’s refreshing, you think, how unmistakably human they are, and how they’re not ashamed to share these parts of themselves with the world.

Jungkook figures this will help both of you sober up, so he gets out of the car as you do and continues talking. You look at him. “Come in?”

He nods, gets his keys from the driver, and walks with you to your apartment.

You’re a little wobbly, your beer and soju combo clearly not yet out of your system. You’re being cocky though, refusing to hold onto the stairs’ railing, insisting you’re fine. He stands behind you, arms ghosting your waist in case you fall. Which you do. You both explode in laughter. 

But he’s ready for this, has a self-awarded badge for taking care of you when you’re a little out of it. He lifts your right arm over his shoulder, his left holding onto your waist. He opens the door and you trip of course, no surprise there. 

You almost bring him down with you, but his strong arms hold you up. You cling onto him, hands now resting on his shoulders. 

“Your eyes are pretty,” you say dreamily.

He chuckles. Here you go again, complimenting his looks only when you’re drunk. “I’ve heard that before.”

“So are your lips.” 

His eyes go wide. 

“But they look so chapped and dry, though,” you say disappointingly. “You should put on lip masks every night.” 

“I’ll make sure to buy one tomorrow, then,” he replies, an amused look on his face. He’s definitely gonna give you shit for this tomorrow. 

“But they’re so nicely-shaped. Fits your face well,” you hum, staring at his lips so shamelessly. 

“Well thank you,” he giggles, trying to steady his voice.

“Can I kiss them?” 

You don’t see how hard he swallows. You’re very pretty, he can’t deny that, he just never tells you. He’d had drunk girls make similar proposals to him; he just never agrees.

But you’re looking at him so softly, so curiously, no ulterior motive hiding behind those almond brown eyes. You look so sweet. He doesn’t know if you’ll remember this in the morning. He doesn’t know if he wants you to or not. But he gives in. 

“Okay,” is all he says, a shy smile decorating his face. You don’t think you’ve ever studied his face like this before. You note the ridges of the scar on his cheek and the cute little dot underneath his mouth. You’re not as inebriated as he thinks; you’re more clumsy tonight than you are drunk. 

You smile and lean into him, puckering your lips just a tiny bit. The kiss is quick, delicate; you’re both unsure but willing. 

He tastes of cherry chapstick and beer. They’re not as parched as you expected, they’re actually quite soft. You smile at how he didn’t even try to disprove you like he always does.

Both your eyes remain open, enjoying the calm and relaxed look of the other. 

“It’s nice,” you mumble to him after you’ve both pulled away. 

He smiles at this. Maybe he does want you to remember this in the morning. “Thank you.”

“Not kidding about that lip mask though,” you tease. 

He laughs at this, but he’ll take it. 

You proceed to your nightly routine. A cup of tea later and he’s walking you to your room. 

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks. He reasons you might still be drunk, not wanting to admit he’s enjoying this more than he should. 

“If you can.”

“I can,” he assures you.

You both pass out that night, the kiss but a distraction to how tired you both really are, especially him. You wake up to the sound of rain the next morning, the sun just barely shining through your blinds. 

You look at the man sleeping next to you and how gentle he looks, a complete opposite of the one rolling his hips and revealing his abs from last night. A small laugh escapes you, causing him to wake up.

“Sorry, you look like a baby when you sleep,” you reason. 

“And you look like a troll,” he groggily responds.

“Ooh, harsh” you tease. 

In the silence, you look at each other. It’s amazing how in sync you think, as you both scoot closer, a light peck on the lips to complement the chilly weather, the words I’ll miss you getting caught on your throat. 

You laugh and drift to sleep again. When you wake up, he’s gone.

##

part 2 <<>> part 3

series masterlist

[mediocre--writing]

I loved your childhood friends ask! I have a headcannon that when they grow up and get to high school, Billy has a hard time because Steve is seeking out girls whereas Billy just wants him. Billy would definitely cry to his mom about it, especially when Nancy comes into the picture, his head in her lap as she plays with his hair and tries to soothe his broken heart and sobs. How could he fall in love with his straight childhood best friend?

it wasn’t steve’s fault.

billy had to keep reminding himself that it was in no way steve’s fault.

but as he sat in the camaro, waiting for steve to get out of his house, billy could see steve twirling the phone cord around his fingers while he blushed and talked to someone.

billy had been there for almost ten minutes. and steve had seen him, even waved at him, and was usually so punctual about leaving the house.

but it took a total of 25 minutes for steve to hang up the phone and come out to billy’s car.

“nance was talking to me about that party friday, you know the one? but yeah she wanted us to go together and so...”

“so you wanna drive her to the party. steve, she’s your girl, you gotta take her,”

steve sighed out in relief, “we’ll go to the next one together, b, alright?”

“of course,”

they hung out that afternoon but billy didn’t feel as up for it as he was when he was getting ready.

steve was constantly talking about nancy or the party and what he should wear. billy wanted to beat his face in.

it wasn’t for any other reason than he was being annoying. steve and billy were hanging out. that was the plan. it wasn’t steve, billy, and the constant thought of nancy wheeler hanging out.

they drove around for a while, which was nice, and they sang to music, and billy felt settled by steve’s semi-raspy singing voice.

he felt a bit better about losing steve to nancy until he went to drop steve off. it wasn’t anything that happened, just what he said:

“thanks for being so cool about the party. maybe nance and i can introduce you to heather, she’s super nice and i think she likes you!”

billy forced an easy smile on his face while he looked at steve, “sure, t, that would be nice,”

then steve left and billy waited until he got into the house before driving off like a bat outta hell.

he didn’t go straight home. he went to the gas station, filled up the tank, bought three packs of cigarettes, and a candy bar before driving around for the remainder of the night, until about 12.

steve never listened anymore.

in the car, billy had been talking about how he had found a second job at the pool and his coworker, heather, was really sweet.

then steve brings her up at the end of the night like he came up with her out of nowhere? did he not listen to a word billy had said all night?

and nancy. nancy prissy-motherfucker wheeler.

who does she think she is? ramming her way into their group, pretending to be all shy and sweet and cutesy when she just wants steve.

and the way she thinks she’s better than everyone because she’s taking next-grade level clases.

well guess what, wheeler, so am i!! you’re nothing special!!

as billy finished off the last cigarette of the second pack, he reached into the passenger seat to grab for the third pack when he realized how shaky his hands were.

glancing around the car, he noted that it was 11:45, three and a half hours since he’d left steve’s house. and he was going 94 on a shady backroad.

billy loved the feel of speeding, but knew his mother would whip his ass if he did.

rather than open a new pack, billy decreased his speed (to 70, but it was better than 100) and started driving home.

he rolled all the windows down completely, hopefully getting some of the smell out.

when he’d pulled into his driveway, his mom was standing on the porch, trying to shove the key into the lock while balancing her purse, diner leftovers, and another bag in her arms.

billy quickly got out of the car, leaving the pack of cigarettes in there and grabbing the candy bar before walking up the steps and taking the takeout boxes out of her hands.

“thank you, sweet boy,” she smiled as she finally got the key in the lock

they walked into the house quietly, setting all of their stuff down.

billy discarded his jacket in the coat closet while she had gone to change out of her diner uniform into comfy pajamas.

billy moved to the kitchen to take plates and cups down, setting them on the dining table suit for three people, maximum.

he opened the take out boxes and moved each of their dinners onto plates before filling the glasses with ice and water.

“thank you, baby,”

she pecked him on the forehead as he sat down at the table, then took her normal seat and began eating.

“how was your day?”

“better than yours,”

billy’s face scrunched up a little at her comment as she took a bite of her burger.

“you still smell like smoke, plus you were meeting with steve at 6, so you’ve been out for quite a while...”

“it’s nothing to worry about,” billy kept holding his burger rather than take a bite out of it, the smoking having ruined his appetite.

“billy,”

“promise, it’s nothing to worry about,”

“alright. don’t you both have that party friday?”

“why does everyone care about this stupid party!?” billy said, louder than he meant to.

“who’s ‘everyone’?”

“nobody, mom,”

“oooh, you’re all grumpy, calling me ‘mom’ and shit. why don’t you check the attitude by tomorrow morning, mkay?”

billy nodded and took a bite of his food, “sorry,”

“it’s alright, but you can’t get angry at me for something i didn’t do, billy,”

billy nodded and she got up to clear her finished plate, rinsing it then coming back to where billy was still eating.

she held his face gently in her hands and placed a long kiss on his forehead, “try to get a good nights sleep, hon,”

she walked to the back of the house, where her bedroom was, and shut the door, leaving billy with most of his dinner still on his plate and heaviness in his heart.

billy made it through the rest of the school week. the weather was warming up, nearing the end of the school year, and the days were pretty easy.

but he was avoiding steve. well, really, he was avoiding the priss, and since she was always with steve, he was avoiding him by default.

and it didn’t feel any better avoiding steve when every time he did see him, he was holding flowers for her, or picking her up from behind, or talking real close to her face all sweet.

the worst part was that steve didn’t seem all to fazed by not seeing billy those four days.

and it hurt. it hurt that, apparently, steve meant more to billy than billy meant to steve. it hurt that the priss could replace billy so quickly.

and so billy was getting agitated. his mom kept working late shifts and billy was working on training for his lifeguard job and homework and it all felt like too much was going on and he didn’t have steve there to distract him.

so, by complete accident, he got into a fight. a big one. with a senior.

for a junior, billy could probably pass as an actual adult, and had the muscles and fighting skills to prove it.

the senior wasn’t too far off either, though.

billy got knocked into (by accident) in the hall while he was watching steve and the priss and just... snapped.

he and the boy were both losers of the fight, neither looking better than the other and neither having been declared winner. plus, they were both marched off to the principals office at the end of the day.

billy, out of the corner of his eye, saw steve watching him get marched off to the front offices, but didn’t care to look and see his face.

more so, the disappointment that would be there. steve hated when he got angry and fought. he hadn’t gotten into a fight since freshman year, so what happened now?

billy’s mom, having been called in from work, seemed as if she was on fire when she came into the building.

she was a taller woman, had broad shoulders and a glare that rivaled billy’s. in short, she was intimidating as fuck (even in her cute 50s work uniform)

billy couldn’t look her in the eye.

after they’d finished with the principal (two day suspension for both boys), billy and his mom walked out to his car.

“where’d you park?” billy grumbled.

“i had christopher drop me off so i could make sure that you would be going straight home after this,”

they made it to the blue camaro, both standing on the drivers side door.

“mom—“

“keys!” she held her hand out and billy stared at her, “now!”

he fumbled in his jean jacket pocket before handing her the keys, walking around to the passenger door and getting in.

they drove the speed limit the whole way home, not talking and not listening to music. just the rumble of the engine as they sat in silence, both seething with different types of anger.

they pulled up to the house, both getting out and going to the door, unlocking it and billy tried storming off to his room before he was called back.

“what!”

“first of all, loose the ‘tude,” she gestured for him to sit on the couch as she walked back and forth in front of the coffee table. “second of all, no party friday.

“now, what the hell is wrong with you? huh? i didn’t raise you to punch a kid for accidentally bumping you in the hall and i most definitely never taught you to talk back to me!

“i get it, billy. we all have bad days or weeks or whatever but we don’t scream at other people or start fights because we feel angry! do you understand that?”

“yes, ma’am,”

“now, why don’t you tell me why you’ve been all ‘hormonal teenager’ for the past week. well, the past month you’ve been weird, so start from the beginning,”

billy took a few deep breaths, “mom, i really don’t wanna—“

“no, we’re gonna talk. i took the whole day off work so we could fix this, so we are gonna talk and we are gonna figure this out, because you’re not you, billy. you are sweet and smiley and funny and you’ve been a little shit recently,”

billy smiled a little bit at his moms crude language, something most parents would frown upon.

“i’m pretty sure that steve and i aren’t really friends anymore. not like we used to be, at least,” billy scrunched up his nose, a tell that meant he was pretending he wasn’t about to start crying.

“why do you think that? you and steve are inseparable, have been since the day you met,”

“he got a girlfriend,” billy was staring just over his mom’s head, pretending he was looking at her. “and he hasn’t been...”

“hasn’t been what?”

he rolls his eyes, “i’m gonna sound like an asshole,”

“you are a little asshole, just say it,”

“he doesn’t pay attention to me anymore. all he talks about is the priss and how their relationship is going. i love him, mom, you know i do, but i can’t hear another word about her! i hate her!”

“why? is she mean to steve?”

“not mean mean, but, like, i talked to some of the guys we hang out with and they think steve’s been weird recently too. he doesn’t do anything without her and he’s different. i can’t explain it, he’s just not the same steve,”

“billy, it’s his first love, he’s gonna be all sappy for her and forget about his friends, it’s just how it is most of the time,”

“no! it’s not ‘just how it is’ because steve and i aren’t just friends, we’re closer and she’s just pulling him away! he doesn’t even care that she is!”

“billy,”

“you don’t understand!”

“i do, i get it completely, but you’re teenagers and you’re gonna get upset. i’m surprised you and steve have made it this far without having a big fight yet,”

“but we aren’t supposed to have big fights! he’s supposed to listen to me and i’m supposed to listen to him! we get each other and he knows me better than anyone! he’s not like my other friends, he’s—he’s steve—and i can’t loose him, mom,

“he was the first kid i really got to hang out with when you kicked dad out, and he helped me through that. we’re close! i can’t just lose him now, after everything!”

“billy, baby,” he looked up to her, teary eyes and all, “what are you really thinking about right now?”

“i think... i think i like steve, like, i like like steve,”

“i know, baby,”

billy’s head shot up to look at her eyes, “you—“

“billy, you’ve loved steve since the day you met, it’s harder not to notice,”

billy starts breathing deeper then, and his mom moves to sit on the couch, pulling him into her chest as she plays with his hair while he cries quietly about losing his best friend and crush.

“it hurts so bad, momma,”

she shushes his broken voice and continues to play with his hair, “i know, baby, i know,” she tears up along with him.

they stay like that until the school day ends, then when the sun goes down.

billy ends up falling asleep on the couch that night. she gets up to get the knitted blanket off of an adjacent chair and drapes it over his body, not being able to cover all of his legs, but staying there with him all night.

it was hard, as a mother, to watch her son break into so many little pieces. but it was even harder when she almost felt her heart break with his.

she knew steve, knew he would make whoever he ended up with a very, very happy person. he was sweet and went out of his way to make others happy.

and a selfish part of her really wanted steve to end up with her billy, for him to be treated right by the only person he’s been in love with. the person who he’d unintentionally pined after for years.

she just wanted to see her boys happy.

[ateezmakemeweep]

you’re the one that i want (part 17)

word count: 6k

angst

(part 16) (series masterlist)

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21​ ; @lokicaramel ; @ttalgimin ; @sakura-uji ; @songsoomin ; @toffee-hwa ; @deobitiful ; @hyunjeansuniverse ; @clown-teez​ ; @i-know-you-know-lee-know ; @tiny-whatsername ; @fairieofeternity ; @yixing-jaehyun ; @sleepyseonghwa ; @revehosh ; 

time went on but the pain never went away. it dulled, for sure, with san incessantly telling you that you deserved better and the piles of work that were being assigned to you.

but you were also doing everything in your absolute power to ignore seonghwa. 

you never lingered before or after homeroom and made sure to never even look in his direction. you drowned out the sound of his voice in class or entire presence when you passed him the hallway. you and san even started to break the school rules and went out for lunch so neither of you had to be reminded of that table.

the one time seonghwa dared come to the cafe, san forced you into the back room and gave his ex friend a piece of his mind. you thought for sure you were gonna have to run out and separate the boys but seonghwa just looked completely...empty and defeated. 

it seemed as if he took san’s words to heart, the blonde speaking them so lowly and harshly you still don’t exactly know what he said to this day. you just know that when you and seonghwa’s eyes met through the small glass window, he looked as sad and broken as you felt inside - but for very different reasons. 

he was upset with himself while you were upset with the both of you. at him for acting the way he did and denying you once again but also at yourself for letting it go on for so long. you should’ve been stronger and made it known he was hurting you from day one, not just avoid him for the sake of saving yourself more pain and suffering.

you’ve switched between feeling sad, angry and vengeful so much during these weeks that you don’t even know how you feel anymore; you just know you’re hurting and know it’s because of him.

“okay but you can’t not go because of him,” san whines. you were both sitting at the cafe during your wednesday night shift, the shitty, rainy weather outside keeping you free of any customers. 

“san,” you whine back, looking at your friend in annoyance; he’d been harassing you for days to go to his friend’s party on friday, a group of boys from another school he’s been friends with since 5th grade.

“look, i was honest and told you he’d probably be there to warn you,” he tells you honestly, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “but if you’re gonna make me go through it by myself, that’ll be really mean.” 

you roll your eyes at the pout on his lips, feeling yourself frown when he adds, “because you know, i’m avoiding one of them too.”

you both know it’s a low blow and san has to resist the urge to smirk knowing he did just play a little dirty. but it doesn’t lessen his actual anxiety over it, knowing he’s gonna be around alcohol in a party atmosphere where stupid decisions are almost always made.

“that’s not fair,” you say with a pout, kicking against the counter with a groan. 

“c’monnn, love, i’m gonna need you there.” 

you let out a sigh, looking at the boy with a pained expression; it would be the perfect time for you to get out and party though, you think, given the fact that your parents told you just this morning they’d be going away for the weekend. 

things at home had been surprisingly...civil, only a few fights and slaps here and there that do little to break your spirit. because it’s already pretty crumbled, eating quickly with them before rushing into your room to do homework.

you never thought you’d say it but schoolwork and projects and essays were actually saving you these days, distracting your mind from just how badly your heart was hurting. 

and what better way to further distract yourself than by getting drunk for the first time? 

“for the first time?” san yelps when you tell him you’ve never drank before. 

“kind of, yeah,” you tell him with an amused smile, the utter shock on his face all too endearing. “i...got tipsy over the summer,” you say quickly, grazing over the memory before you tell san you’d only had one drink. 

“oh, that won’t do,” san says with a shake of the head. 

you watch with a raised eyebrow and a cup of tea to your lips as the blonde prances over to the cabinets, looking inside before smirking at the extra box of jello he knew was laying around back here. 

“we’ll start you off with jello shots and then move you up to the real stuff. get ready for friday, biiiitch.” 

you let out a snort and warm tea spews from your mouth, dripping down to your chin and onto the floor as you let out a choking fit of laughter. san yells that he just mopped the floor and insists that you’re doing it this time, your eyes only rolling at him.

“i’m about to choke and die and you’re worried about the floor.”

“you can’t choke and die, we have to go to this party first.”

the jello shots had gone down easily, your personal favorites being the strawberry and raspberry. but now, the straight vodka sitting in one of san’s many shot glasses is proving to be a challenge. 

“i think i’m drunk so i don’t need to do-”

“cheers!” san yelps, taking your glass from the table and forcing it into your hand. you let out a sigh as you watch the boy down his 4th one with ease, looking at him with concerned laced in your eyes. 

“san, if you’re gonna puke tonight, i’m gonna be really-”

“i’m not gonna puke,” he whines, “we ate so much before this and i’ll drink water. but you have to start little lady. we only have an hour!” 

“okay i will but i’m just warning you that i’m gonna hate every moment of this and-”

he rolls his eyes before pushing the shot glass toward you, snorting when you take down the vodka with a sneer and gag. but by the third, the burn gets almost manageable and you and san mentally prepare one another for what’s about to come. 

you tell him to not take wooyoung’s shit, that if the boy even dares to signal for him to go outside so they could be alone, he points his middle finger at him and goes off to dance and have fun. 

he tells you that if seonghwa tries to corner you and suck another hickie onto your neck, (the blonde had been so irritated at that, the possessiveness and boldness in the action making his blood boil) you knee him between the legs and kiss the closest person next to you. even if it’s him.

you laugh at that very unlikely circumstance as you stumble out of his house and into the uber, both of you determined not to let those two handsome but horribly cruel boys get to you. 

you try to keep the slurring of your words quiet so the driver isn’t alarmed by the drunk underaged kids in his car, whispering back and forth about what songs you’re gonna sneak onto the aux.

you thank the man as he pulls up to the house, big and beautiful with a wrap around porch and a few kids littered outside. and then even in a drunken daze, you feel your stomach knot with nervousness. the unfamiliar crowd, the loud booming music coming from the house, the thought of seeing seonghwa in this state, now all too daunting. 

but san notices your discomfort immediately and grabs your hand, saying hi to a few people in passing as he leads you into the house. he tells you to stay close and to not let go of him, your eyes widening at the amount of people in this house; what kind of high school party is like this?

“oi felix!” 

a boy with blonde wavy hair turns around and smiles at san, walking over and fist bumping him; you bit your lip to hide your smile, secretly wondering who’s hands were smaller (it’s me, the author, i am wondering). felix notices you standing beside san, your intertwined hands catching his eye before his face lights up. 

“who is this? is she your-”

“friend,” san clarifies, pulling you into him affectionately. “but she is very much single if anyone is interested.”

“san,” you whine as you disconnect your hands and hit his arm, felix laughing quietly before he holds out his. you take his hand with a small smile, mumbling your name before three boys barrel right into him. 

“san!” they all scream in unison, excited cheers as they run toward the boy and grab him in a hug. you giggle as you wait off to the side in fear of getting trampled, felix looking at you apologetically. 

“sorry,” he says, his voice so deep and full it makes your eyes widen. and maybe it’s because you have alcohol coursing through you that you show your surprise, looking around like you’re scared someone’s gonna watch you before leaning in. 

“your voice...is very deep.” 

a loud chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head, talking more and leaving you in amazement. 

you don’t even hear san and the other boys conversing behind you, you and felix talking about the blonde-haired boy. you tell him that you work at his parents cafe and also see him in school every day, giggling sweetly when felix’s face turns into a grimace as he commends your ability to deal with the loud, whiney boy five days a week.

the very same boy who, little to your knowledge, is trying to set you up. but it’s not his fault, he rationalizes in his head, the idea just fell into his lap really.

“hey, who’d you come with?” hyunjin asks san, the two blondes turning when they hear your giggle pierce the air. 

the taller boy can’t help but smile softly at the sound, thinking it’s the cutest thing he’s heard since he got here; he wasn’t even gonna come tonight, always put off by the gross group of people and loud, terrible music.

“that’s y/n, my new friend,” san says, smiling when he sees hyunjin’s intrigued gaze. 

he’s known the boy for years, one of his first friends from middle school who proved time and time again how sweet he was. everyone had always been intimidated by his good looks and tall figure but he was just as a soft-spoken as he was kind; he’d be the perfect distraction for you tonight. 

it’s why he drags hyunjin over to you, planting the boy in front of you and your head snaps away from felix. “i was just telling him how you always-” a pair of dark, unfamiliar eyes looking at you cause the words to stop, your breath catching in your throat at the man in your presence. 

his blonde hair hangs in his face, a black headband over his forehead just a few inches above the prettiest pair of light brown eyes. he’s taller than san and felix and it only adds on to how much your sad little heart flutters, your usual sober nervousness replaced with a drunken fascination. 

“oh. hi.”

and then when his lips quirk up into a smile, your heart nearly threatens to pound out of your chest. 

“hey. i’m hyunjin.”

you sat with the boy for most of the night, your legs grazing as you stayed on the couch and gave him playful slaps to the arm when you drunkenly giggled into him. you quickly discovered he was just as funny as he was kind and handsome and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you had a little bit of a crush on him.

that the happy, fluttering feeling in your chest was something you hadn’t felt in a while, your shy smiles back and forth only making you more giggly. or it could also be the sips you took from san’s spiked seltzer that might have something to do with it. 

because one second you and hyunjin were debating whether goldendoodles or chihuahuas made better pets and then the next, you were both charging over to san for the final decision. but he yelped excitedly, having not seen you both all night because you were so lost in each other, and threw his arms around you. 

“don’t look now, love, but asshole one and two just got here.”

you pull back and look at san with wide eyes, the blonde only nodding his head with a calming look in his eye. he had thought you guys had gotten lucky and the four boys weren’t gonna show up but leave it them to waltz in a few minutes before midnight, their eyes searching the crowd before a brown pair of narrowed eyes caught his attention.

san avoided the boy’s gaze to look at seonghwa, watching his eyes roam over the crowd before landing on you. his handsome face immediately drops, his jaw tightening and eyes narrowing as he watched you and hyunjin laugh together. 

the tall blonde’s hand was resting on your hip, this thumb running over the exposed skin between your jeans and shirt as you two laugh with hyunjin’s friends.

to seonghwa, it looked as if he was trying to make a move on you. that he was slowly enticing you until his hand traveled lower and lower and just the thought of it causes anger to rip through him. like an anger he’s never felt before.

because he would do that to comfort you. 

to calm your nerves and ground you if you were feeling upset and anxious, like you typically did around crowds or unfamiliar groups of people. but you looked awfully cozy next to the boy in the loud, chaotic environment, smiling up at the boy so prettily it makes him growl lowly in his chest.

“what the fuck was that?” mingi asked the boy, his eyes following seonghwa’s dark gaze before his face morphed into one of surprise. 

“ohhh shit.”

“shit,” you said under your breath, hyunjin hearing the frustration in your voice and looking down at you curiously. 

but you and san don’t look away from one another, trying so hard to remember what you said earlier. that you’re gonna ignore them and pretend they’re not even here, that you both deserve better and should move on to bigger and better things.

that if, given the opportunity, maybe it wouldn’t be a terrible idea to distract yourself with other people. and what better way than in the arms of a long haired blonde boy with the prettiest face you’ve ever seen?

“what’s wrong?” you hear his voice mumble in your ear, turning around and sucking in a breath when you realize you’re a lot closer than you thought. his eyes look over you with a soft concern, watching your drunken hazy eyes look back at him.

“no-nothing, someone’s just here who i...don’t wanna see,” you settle on saying, not needing hyunjin to know all of your baggage and nonsense drama. 

he looks at the new group of boys who just entered, recognizing them immediately and waving; he’s mostly friendly with yeosang but has seen the other three before, the dirty blonde boy eyeing him with such distaste he can only assume that’s who you’re having a problem with. 

but if you don’t wanna see him, then he’s gonna make sure you don’t. 

so he smiles down at you, his finger tapping you on the nose playfully and smiling when you giggle quietly. he’s happy to see a smile back on your face, the lingering anxiousness in your eyes making his stomach sink. 

“then i can promise he won’t be anywhere near you.”

the words send warmth through your body, your heart fluttering and cheeks turning pink as you bite your lip to hide your smile, hyunjin’s hand reaching down to interlace your fingers. you don’t miss the way the blonde’s face warms a little bit too in the dark room, turning your body and resting your head on his shoulder lazily as you talk with san and the rest of the boys.

you miss the way yeosang and mingi hold seonghwa back from charging over there, the shorter boy looking at his friend in confusion. “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snaps, pulling the boy back by his shirt. “we just got here. you’re not about to start shit.”

“i’m not gonna start anything, i just have to-”

“stop,” wooyoung says firmly, knowing all too well the feeling seonghwa is experiencing right now; but he also knows nothing will come of acting on it. of charging over there and tearing you away from the blonde, of growling out that you’re his and shouldn’t be with other people. 

the dirty blonde snaps his head to wooyoung and resists the urge to punch him in the mouth, letting out an annoyed huff before shrugging himself away from yeosang and walking toward the kitchen to grab a drink. a drink that he holds on to for the next thirty minutes of the party, keeping the same cold bottle in his hand so people don’t ask why he’s not drinking.

he hates this shit. 

drinking and partying and mingling, passing a poorly rolled joint around like all of this is gonna make him wanna be here when really, it’s the last thing he wants. he can’t believe he’s been sitting here as long as he has, leg bouncing as he watches you smile up and chat with hyunjin as a blush spreads on your cheeks. 

there’s a hot burning feeling of anger and rage and possessiveness growing in his chest, something you brought out in him within the first few weeks of meeting. and he knows he deserves to feel this way, that he hurt you and made you feel bad and basically pushed you into another man’s arms. 

but that doesn’t mean he’s not mad. and that doesn’t mean he won’t stop it because how could he watch that? how could he sit here and watch you with someone else when he wants you to be with h-

“hyunjin,” you giggle drunkenly, feeling his breath tickle the skin of your neck. 

you both had been watching san and his friends banter back and forth, the boys loud and talkative and crazy as they relive their middle school memories. about the pranks they pulled on teachers and how much trouble they always got into. 

about how san and changbin had gone from absolutely hating each other to becoming the closest in the group; san thought changbin was mean and scary and changbin thought san was annoying and soft - and perhaps you could see what both of them were saying. 

because changbin did have a darker look in his eye, easily getting annoyed and shoving his friends around but also blocking their falls when they were about to smack into the wall. it’s nice to see san hanging out with a group of rowdy boys since these past months, he’s only been with you - a emotional, baggage-filled teenage girl. 

“what?” he whines lowly, squeezing at your hips again and causing your heart to stutter in your chest. 

it feels nice to have someone touch you again, touch you in a way that warms your body and makes you feel liked and desired. you’d gotten so used to it with....him and it’s almost like for the time being, your fragile heart is temporarily healing. 

you know the feeling is different and you know you don’t like it as much but at least hyunjin is sweet.

because you also you know tomorrow, or maybe even in a few hours, you’ll go back to normal. sad that you have to ignore the boy you love and mad that he’s making you do it in the first place. confused and irritated at just how much your head was in the clouds this summer.

but for tonight, you don’t care about any of that. you only care about that way this other boy is making you feel, someone who was a stranger when the night started but made you so comfortable so fast. made you happy and giggly and acted as the perfect distraction from the eyes that have been piercing into you all night. 

you made sure not to to look anywhere but the corner you and the boys were in, turning in hyunjin’s hold and reaching up to play with his long blonde hair.

“you...shouldn’t ever cut this,” you hiccup, a cute smile crossing the boy’s face at the sound of it.

“you like it?” he mumbles, biting down on his lip at the way your nails graze his scalp. 

he’d been on his best behavior all night, shy smiles and innocent touches as he got to know you and saw you come out of your shell bit by bit; it probably helped that he was just as nervous and uncomfortable as you.

but now, with a few drinks in him and the way you’re looking at him, he feels himself losing it. losing the resolve to be good and just wanting feel your lips against his for a second; nothing more, nothing less. 

“i like everything about you,” you say teasingly, your hand moving down to twist his necklace around your finger. the metal pulling at his neck causes his adams apple to bob, his eyes falling to your mouth at the exact moment you slip your tongue out to wet your dry lips.

the music is blaring and you think a group of kids are fighting but you can only hear the ringing in your ears and the pounding of your heart, cocking your head to the side when the eyes that have been so soft and sweet turn dark and hungry. 

“everything about me?” 

and with the way his voice drops and a pretty smirk crosses his mouth, like he knows exactly what’s he’s doing, you twist the chain between your fingers and pull him closer to you. 

his large hand moves to your face, the sound of your breathy exhale causing desire to hit him. every reaction you have is so cute and innocent despite the boldness behind them, your lingering eyes and lips pulled into a smirk making him wanna do this all night.

have your hair tangled in his hand, pulling you closer until your lips finally meet and part on one another. your tongues colliding and moans being swallowed as he presses you against the wall. hearing you sigh out his name and make sure you want to see him and kiss him.

but he doesn’t get the chance. 

because just before your lips can meet, he's harshly grabbed by the back of his shirt and shoved across the room. your eyes pop open when you nearly fall forward if not for the hard chest you bump into as seonghwa towers over you; his eyes hot and blazing and face so tense it makes your stomach swoop in nervousness.

"y/n," he growls and you immediately feel your heart start to pound, narrowing your eyes at him.

"what do you want, seonghwa?"

"what the fuck," you hear hyunjin shout, watching as the blonde stomps toward him. seonghwa rolls his eyes upon hearing it, turning around and catching the quick fist flying his way. it shocks hyunjin as much as you but the boy doesn’t show his reaction reacts, sneering at him as he asks what the hell is his problem is.

"has nothing to do with you so back off, hyunjin."

"she said she didn't wanna see you," he retorts, ripping his hand from seonghwa's grasp and pushing at him. he hits the back of the wall and you wince at the loud sound, standing in front of hyunjin as you see the dirty blonde make his way over.

"st-stop," you drunkly whine, pressing yourself back into hyunjin and causing seonghwa to growl out your name lowly. 

"no. he's right. i didn't wanna see you."

he bites the inside of your cheek when those words leave your mouth, your heart sinking at the way his face every so slightly drops and eyes twinge with hurt.

"just give me five minutes. i need it."

"and i need you to leave me alone. i've given you almost three months, what's so different now?"

you were with someone else, he thinks, you were with someone else and there's nothing he hates more than seeing his girl with a guy who's not him. he's had to watch it all fucking night and it's killing him, making him so god damn angry and jealous he thinks he's about to explode.

but if you guys kissed, he'd be over. he would've gone over and beat the shit out of the long, blonde haired boy watching you two right now with curious eyes.

"y/n," he growls again.

but you only roll your eyes because it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with his pride. he saw you with someone else while you haven't looked his way, smiling and giggling and trying to forget him in the arms of someone else.

and it was working, it really was working. your heart feel like something other than the breaking, crumbling mess it's been since the moment you left your aunt's house. since the stupid boy looking at you like you're the one hurting him started this mess in the first place.

"i don't wanna talk to you!" you whine loudly, stomping the few steps toward him and pushing him back with all the force you can muster; but given your size difference and drunken state, he doesn't go far. he only clenches his jaw and wraps his hand around your wrist, dragging you outside despite you telling him to stop manhandling you.

you don't know where san is, thinking those two conspiring assholes made their moves on you at the same time, and you hear hyunjin's friend telling him not to cause problems with them. but you don't wanna be anywhere near him, especially in this vulnerable state.

because you know you're gonna end up crying and you're so fucking sick of crying. so sick of saying the same things to him and then hearing his lousy apologies over and over again. having the memories of your summer play in your mind when he says a certain word or gives you a familiar look.

you're so sick of him and a part of you wishes you never met him. that you just spent your summer quietly inside or at the beach with your aunt so you didn't realize you were capable of being loved by a man like him, even if it was just for a short time and in private.

even if everything might've been a lie. because it's the memories of him that makes this so hard, remembering how the same boy who could look so unbothered about you was the same boy who'd mumble into your skin that he loved you.

the same boy who now dragged you outside, the crisp night air cooling your warm, flushed skin. you cross your arms as you look up at him with your face pinched in anger, tears of frustration already pricking your eyes.

"what is wrong with you!" you yell, your hands balling into fists as you resist the urge to stomp your foot and smack him. his eyes narrow and he steps forward, his large hand taking your face in his hold. his thumb rubs at your hot skin gently, anger coursing through him at himself.

this is his fault. this is all his fault and now you're sad and drunk and ready to cry.

"you're drunk," he states obviously. you roll your eyes at his statement, biting the inside of your cheek so you don't say the vengeful comment that wants to leave you.

but because you are drunk and pissed and not in your right frame of mind, you say it anyway.

"so what," you snap at him. "if you're thinking that's why i was about to make out with hyunjin, then you're absolutely-"

anger flares in his eyes and he tugs you closer to him, tightening his hold on you. everything inside of you is screaming to push him away and yell at him, tell him he doesn't get to do this anymore; that you're not his and you never were.

but you can't find the words in your fuzzy brain, looking up at his dark gaze and feeling a sense of pride in how angry that made him, especially when his words are lowly growled at you.

"you better fuckin' stop, y/n."

"i don't think i will," you say, pressing your body closer to him and moving your finger over his lips. "i think i'll kiss you both and see who does it better." his jaw tightens at the same time his hands on your wrist and hip do, growling another warning "stop it," in your ear. 

"why? at least hyunjin was gonna kiss me in front of people.”

your words are powerful and biting but the hurt in them is obvious. hurt that's been building up for months and festering. "he even talked to me all night in front of people. and you just watched from a-far, as usual," you hiccup, "like you didn't even know me."

his eyes soften at your tone and he drops your wrist from his hold, looking down at you carefully in case you're gonna try to flee. but your vengeful look is quickly changing to sadness, seeing him stand in front of you with his gaze softening by the second.

"y/n, baby, i would talk to you but-"

"but nothing," you snap, your eyes shooting to his. "i am so fucking sick of us having this conversation, seonghwa. just admit i wa-wasn't anything to you and we can move on with our lives."

"stop. fucking. saying that," he says, taking your face in his hands and holding it tightly. his warm hands on your skin makes tears prick your head, his chest heaving as he tries to control the emotions ripping through him.

"stop giving me hope," you cry out, "stop making me think you're gonna admit that you love me. that you loved me at all and actually considered giving us a chance."

the more you get worked up, the more you start to hiccup and the tighter he holds you. he hates seeing you like this and it's obvious in the way his stomach is sinking, how he just wants to take you back to his house and mumble apologies against your skin until you give him another chance.

"i do love you."

"w-we knew each other for two months, that's not enough time to love.”

because that’s another thing you started to think. maybe you both were just confused about what you felt, so consumed by teenage lust and fascination that you convinced yourselves it was love; you didn’t think that was the case for you, but maybe for him.

maybe it wasn’t enough time for him to love.

"yes it is," he growls, pushing you back until you hit the brick wall behind you. you swallow nervously at how close he's pressed up against you. he can smell the alcohol on you mixed with the scent of your perfume and he remembers it so vividly.

lingering when you would pass him on the beach, faintly on the case of his pillow after you would sleep in his bed, tickling his nose when you would fall asleep on his shoulder; even when you were sick and smelt like sweat, you had that scent.

"don't fucking tell me it's not enough time when you're the only person i've ever felt like this about," he says lowly, his voice low and deep and so full of certainty, your stupid little heart lifts again. "and i know you feel the same way."

you swallow the lump in your throat and tears are burning your eyes at the way he's so close to you. his hand’s right next to your head and his body is right against yours, finding comfort in the feeling you were so trying so hard to forget.

but because you know seonghwa would never hurt you and welcome his presence despite everything, you don't realize how bad this position looks.

not until an unfamiliar, feminine voice speaks up.

"hey! get the hell away from her!"

"jojo, they might be-"

"she's about to cry, that's definitely fucking not-"

"okay, relax!”

the small girl with long brown hair looks at you with sympathy swarming in your eyes, her friend eyeing seonghwa suspiciously and looking ready to fight him.

"hey, are you okay?"

your lip wobbles at the soft kindness of the girl's voice, the one named jojo looking between you and seonghwa. "ye-yes," you hiccup, shooting the girls a small smile as they narrow their eyes. "i promise, i'm okay. we're just....talking."

"why are you pinning her against the wall?" the girl asks, feisty and eyes blazing; seonghwa can smell the alcohol on her breath but has a feeling she's usually this bold without the liquid courage.

"i'm just talking to her."

“you can’t talk to her without towering over her?”

seonghwa looks at girl with an annoyed look, throwing his hands up innocently before taking a few steps away from you.

the girl looks at you and you nod your head to confirm that it’s okay and you are just talking, eyes shining with gratitude despite the tears in them. the two girls look at you for a few silent moments before nodding their heads.

"we'll be around, if you need help call out."

"thank you but i promise i'm okay," you hiccup, the girl giving the tall boy one last dirty look before walking away.

"you can't just do that shit, jo. you have to be careful."

"oh please, what were his chicken legs really gonna do?"

you wanna laugh at the girls comment but can only feel sadness in your chest, you and seonghwa looking at each other as his hands run through his light hair. your eyes train on the floor and he lets out a long exhale, looking at your dejected, drained figure.

"i was never more honest about my shit than when i was with you this summer, y/n," he finds himself finally saying truthfully. 

he was happiest with you, he wished he could be like that all the time and wanted nothing more than that. wished he could believe every day of his life that he was good for you and treat you as such.

you swallow the lump in your throat and the tears are stinging your eyes so badly at the way he's saying this. how his words always sound so true and genuine and make your heart soar.

"but now you're lying," you squeak out shakily, your watery eyes meeting his and making his lips turn into a frown. "you're lying and it's hurting me. i feel like...i feel like i don’t even know what the truth is anymore.” 

he swallows the lump in his throat at your words, watching your eyes roam his face before a tear runs down your cheek. 

"i wish i never met you," you blurt out honestly, your words breathy and full of sadness. "because you've hurt me so badly and have made me so sad but i still..." you can't say the words that you still love and want him because it's so stupid.

"come here," he says, his voice low and pained but direct as he looks at you. a whimper leaves your mouth as you shake your head at him, trying to back away from him but only pushing yourself further into the wall.

"no," you brokenly whisper, voice small and shaky as you feel all the giddy drunkenness drain from you. now it's like every sad and heartbroken emotion you've felt hits you tenfold, your chest and stomach physically paining you.

"please, baby," he says lowly, his voice making your stomach twist even more.

"we're gonna figure it out but, please baby, for now, i need you with me. i'm here with you. we're both here and we have time left together."

you stay planted against his shirt until your tears stop falling, nodding your head against him and feeling your face flush with embarrassment. you hadn't meant to avoid him all day but you were just so sad when you realized how many days you had left with him. until you were ripped apart and wouldn't see other for god knows how long.

"i know it's hard and i'm not mad at you," he says again when he sees guilt and shame in your eyes. "but i'm here. how many times did i have to say it, pretty girl," he hums lowly, his hand running softly through your hair as his tone is laced with slight amusement.

"you can't call me that," you say, shaking your head as tears continue to blur your vision. "or look at me like that. it's not fair."

his eyebrow quirks up and he takes another step toward you, his heart dropping at the way your face falls even more. you know he's about to reach out and hug you and pull you into his arms and you're gonna crumble. cry into his chest and have him stroke your hair and tell you everything's gonna be okay.

but it's not okay. how he's treated you isn't okay. how he's discrediting everything you guys had isn't okay. and it's not okay that every part of you is gonna be willing to forgive him.

"none of this is fair," you say when he leans closer, voice dripping with anger and sadness as you smack at his chest. "you're hurting me and you could give a shit and i wish i never fucking met you. why did you do this?" 

you knock your fists into his chest and he takes every single one as he wraps his arms around you and pulls your body closer.

he shushes your muffled cries against your head, muttering that he's so sorry over and over again. sorry that he knew he wasn't good for you but allowed this to happen anyway and sorry that he can't say he wishes he never met you.

because meeting you was quite easily the best thing that ever happened to him and he thinks it's about time he proves that to you. he holds you until it seems as if every last tear is out of your system, your body slumping into his chest before he hears your breaths even out.

(part 18)

[tache-noire]

might as well make a post about my OCs

the basic idea is that each one is sort of a mix of a few different horror movies, and focuses on a horror trope I like. I originally came up with these guys with the idea that I would just.... magically be able to make a game even though I can’t draw worth shit.

The Slasher: Terrence Walker

Inspirations: Halloween, Friday The 13th, My Bloody Valentine, anything with a big guy in a mask with a weapon stalking a bunch of people.

Appearance: HEFTY McLARGEHUGE. Tall, beefy, nasty drowned-corpse skin, no hair. Has a metal mask locked on his head that can’t be removed. Wears a khakhi prison jumpsuit and shackles. (the dick on this man is insane)

Bio: Imprisoned for a series of murders and subjected to an experimental form of psychological punishment at a remote penitentiary in which all inmates and staff must wear masks unless they’re in private. No mirrors in the facility. The complete lack of all human contact is supposed to inspire true penitence and reform even the most hardened criminals, but it simply gave Terrence and extreme aversion to human faces. Eventually the facility was shut down for ethics violations and all inmates were to be transferred to other prisons. Terrence managed to break free from his restraints and overpower the driver of the transport van, but ended up swerving off down an embankment and into a lake. His body was never found...

Other: His signature weapon is a 20 pound sledgehammer :^) he’s fond of bludgeoning and facial mutilation. You can get him to fuck you if you want but keep in mind he is a rotting corpse.

The Off-Grid Cannibal: Jacob Potter

Inspirations: Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Deliverance, We Are What We Are, honestly take your pick of cannibal/backwoods psycho movies except for Silence Of The Lambs

Appearance: Thick and stocky, very weathered and scarred skin. Dirty blonde hair and beard, both long and rather unkempt. Heterochromia-- one eye is green, the other is blue. Wears very rugged, practical clothes-- but they’re clearly old and worn, and not always the right size.

Bio: Unknown past. He’s not keen to talk about it. He doesn’t like people. Lives alone in a cabin in the woods, entirely off the grid and without modern comforts or technology. Hunts, traps, fishes, and forages. Humans are just another prey animal-- albeit a rare treat that he doesn’t allow himself to pursue too often. The circumstances and timing have to be just right. He has a preference for people roughly his own size and with some survival skills.

Other: IN MY DEFENSE OF THIS CHARACTER, I CAME UP WITH HIM LONG BEFORE TPOF WAS A THING. I may end up reworking him at some point because he's a little too similar to Mason.

The Creep: James Carson

Inspirations: yandere animes lol

Appearance: Pale, greasy, malnourished little rat man. Stringy brown hair, shockingly bright blue eyes, short, chewed-up fingernails. Bad hygiene. Smells bad. Lives in hoodies and sweatpants.

Bio: Believes WAY too much in dream symbolism. Completely delusional. He saw you once and then had a dream that you were married and had a whole life together, and now he believes you are his soulmate and that you MUST have had the same prophetic dream, because you’re CONNECTED. You are NOT the first person this has happened with, but he believes that you’re the same person reincarnated over and over. Someday, he’s sure you’ll remember that you’re meant to be together.

Other: I love him a lot, i love pathetic men so much

The Master: Simon Boucher

Inspirations: Hostel, The Silence Of The Lambs, the “dollmaker” deep web urban legend

Appearance: Very conventionally attractive. Black hair, olive skin, rich brown eyes. He’s fit but not overly muscular, but he’s stronger than he looks. Very well-dressed in expensive clothes.

Bio: He presents himself as a sugar daddy. He calls it “Pretty Woman Syndrome,” like the movie. Likes to go to shitty clubs, find someone who catches his eye, and then convince them to go out for a date with him to someplace MUCH fancier. He’s got a natural magnetism that makes it hard to say no. But they’ll wake up in chains, in an unfamiliar room, and from there the nightmare has only begun. He’s a trainer and seller of very high-quality human pets and toys for wealthy individuals all over the world. Whether you become a pet or a toy is up to how obedient you are or how well you can be broken. If you’re too strong-willed, you will lose everything. Arms. Legs. Sight. Hearing. Voice. Teeth. Only the absolutely necessary parts will remain. It’s in your best interest to behave, or escape.

Other: Pets are worth much more than toys, so he will give you every chance to be good for him before he gives up and modifies you. If he REALLY likes you, you may become one of his own personal pets :)

The Pure Sadist: Gabriel Mason

Inspirations: Hellraiser, Smoothie from Happy!, Martyrs

Appearance: Like a cherub. Very soft features. Round face, sun-kissed skin, curly golden-blonde hair, cheek dimples, the works. The only thing wrong with him is his eyes. Pitch black irises, and he’s never really looking AT you, but THROUGH you. Wears glasses, typically dresses in slacks and sweatervests.

Bio: Despite his somewhat unnerving eyes, he’s very pleasant. Polite, kind, soft-spoken. Likes to read-- mostly horror. No real rhyme or reason to how he picks his victims. Nothing matters but their ability to bleed and feel pain. He has an elaborately locked and hidden bunker in a remote location. Every tool he could possibly need at his fingertips, a supply of interesting drugs and chemicals, water and non-perishable food. Everything is sterile and spotless. He will keep you alive as long as your body holds up, and do everything in his power to prolong your life. Your pain and suffering is his greatest pleasure, but he will continue even after your mind breaks and you stop responding. From then on, it’s more of a hobby, just testing the limits of physical endurance until the damage is too great to recover from and you die.

Other: He has no genitals. He removed them himself-- he didn’t need or want them.

[hogarthwrites]

house sitting for two chapter 17

chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 16 pairing: Sam Drake/Reader (m/f) genre: smut, slow romance, mutual pining warnings: graphic sex, alcohol words: 2,901 summary: You're unsure about dating someone else and it makes you guilty about still being in love. You make your mind up when you run into a certain someone one night.

Sam and Sully had gone to Las Vegas. “Just because,” Sam reasoned. He needed to forget how empty he felt whenever it was nighttime and he was lonely in bed.

Instead, he and Sully gambled, outsmarting each other in their own games. At the end of the night, Sam would go to the nearest bar to drink. That’s where he was reunited with Victoria, an old flame he had just before Panama.

Victoria – or Vix – as he called her, was a nice enough woman. She was as loud as he remembered her and he genuinely did have fun with her, and there was an understanding between them: it was just sex.

He'd take her to his RV every night, and every single time he fucked her, he thought of you. As he dug his fingers into the soft skin of her hips, he closed his eyes, imagining you, drowning out the sounds of her moans. He couldn't understand how he became so attached to you but no other person.

It was then the telephone started ringing. Sam sighed, considering his options. He wasn't close yet and he wasn't in a hurry so he got up and hobbled to the phone.

“Yeah?” Sam leaned against the wall, expecting it to be Sully calling from his five-star hotel room, but there was no response.

“Come on, Sam, don't keep me waiting,” Victoria whined. “I was so close.”

“Just a second,” he turned away from her. “Hello? Hello?”

The line cut out, leaving Sam confused. Must've been a wrong number.

He drove Sully back to California the next day, feeling a little sad about being back in Paso Robles. It didn't stop him from looking around as he drove, hoping to get a glance of you – that is, if you stayed in the area.

“I've gotta say that was the first Vegas trip I've been on where I haven't made any life altering decisions,” Sully mused. “Hell, that was the mildest experience I've had.”

“Jeez, Victor, sorry I made it lame,” Sam joked. Deep down they knew they were too old to get shit faced drunk and make horrible decisions just after a few nights in Las Vegas.

“Ah, maybe next time,” Sully picked up his bags as Sam parked in front of his mid-century style home. “What's next for Samuel Drake?”

“Uh,” Sam thought. “Gonna visit a special lady named Irene, then hopefully my business partner can find another job for us.”

“Oh, Irene,” Sully chuckled.

“Ah, so you know her,” Sam smiled.

“The ‘70’s were a wild time, Sam,” Sully winked, confirming yours and Sam’s suspicions.

“Well, good for you, Victor. She's still single, just so you know.”

“Right,” Sully laughed. “Hey, maybe you should go up to Los Angeles, just see the sights. Weather’s nice this time of the year.”

Huh , Sam thought to himself. He hasn't been in LA in years. It won't hurt to stop by.

“Sure, Victor. I'll send you a postcard.”

“There's an open house this weekend,” Stephen said over the phone. “I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I'm totally cool with it.” You lay in the hammock of your backyard, smoking a cigarette and mindlessly scrolled through social media. Sam was always on your Instagram, giving you just a glimmer of hope.

“I'll call as much as I can. I love you.”

You paused, chewing on you lip. “I'll see you soon, Steve.”

You felt the tiniest pang of guilt as you felt a bit of relief to be away from Stephen for two weeks. As much as you tried, you couldn't love him. Sam was still in your mind and everytime you had sex with Stephen, you thought about Sam. It just didn't feel as good.

It didn't stop you from being racked with guilt. You didn't want to be with Stephen, but you didn't want to be lonely.

I'm a horrible person and I had the audacity to call Sam a selfish bastard, you let out an angry puff of smoke. Maybe we are a lot more alike than I thought.

You groaned as you slid off the hammock hanging on your back porch and padded your way into your kitchen to get a drink. The silence was overwhelming while you poured yourself a glass of orange juice.

You retired to your room and climbed into your cold, empty bed. You hated the silence. You missed Sam’s voice as he talked on and on about something that excited him.

You read and reread the letter he wrote you in the hospital. It was short but it was enough to make you miss him every time.

I'm sorry. No one's ever done anything like that for me and I feel horrible. Please get better. I'll make you pancakes like I promised long ago.

I love you,

Sam

The landline phone caught your attention. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear his voice just for a bit.

You hastily got up and walked to the phone, mind racing as you picked up the receiver. You assured yourself it was fine and that Sam never had a caller ID.

Here goes, you held your breath as you dialed his number, dreading the ringing tones.

It kept ringing and you were scared it'll go to voicemail, but after a while, Sam finally picked up.

“Yeah?” He was out of breath.

Just that one word made your heart leap. You opened your mouth to say something when you heard someone in the background.

“Come on, Sam, don't keep me waiting,” a woman said in a sultry voice. “I was so close.”

“Just a second,” Sam called out. “Hello? Hello?”

You hung up. That was a terrible idea.

Irene was overjoyed to see Sam, peppering his face in kisses.

“Oh, you've grown so tall!” She joked. “It's so nice to see you, Sam.”

“You know I can't stay away from my favourite weed lady,” he chuckled.

“Are you staying long?”

“Nah, just dropping by to say ‘hi’.”

“Well ‘hi’ to you too,” she smiled.

She gave him a pan of banana bread (and some weed) before he left, asking if he ever got to see you. He wished he did.

You lay on the floor of your living room, music blasting on the stereo as you had a pity party. You had to end things with Stephen as the guilt was becoming too much for you to bear.

You had put the ring back on, staring at it as you held your hand up. You needed a drink.

The fluorescent lights of the store were a little too bright for you and you trudged to the fridge, ignoring the guy manning the cashier.

“You look like shit again,” he remarked.

“‘Kay, thanks for the input, Troy,” you muttered. Asshole.

You grabbed a few bottles of beer, hugging them to your chest. Just another Friday night.

“Sorry, I need a pack of cigarettes… Or two,” you heard a familiar voice. You peeked behind a shelf of condoms.

It was Sam. What the hell is he doing in LA and in this particular store too?

Fuck. You began to panic, glancing down at yourself. The grey sweatpants and your stained DIY shirt you painted years ago wasn’t the most flattering outfit and it didn't help that your hair was a mess.

You wanted him to just go, but through your panicked state, you dropped one of the bottles in your arms, catching Sam’s attention.

“Y/N?” He looked at you curiously.

“Heyy, Sam,” you sheepishly stepped away from the mess on the floor.

“Clean up on aisle two,” Troy mumbled, grabbing the broom and a mop.

“Sorry, I'll pay for that,” you tiptoed past him.

“No, I'll pay for it,” Sam looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Your heart leaped when you met his gentle eyes. “That's a lot of bottles.”

“TGIF, right?” You awkwardly laughed. Idiot.

“Can't argue with that,” Sam smiled.

Troy totalled up yours and Sam’s purchases after a lot of whining. Sam helped you carry your bottles of beer.

“Where ya heading?” He asked.

“Home. It's not too far from here.”

“Come on, I'll give you a lift,” he nudged you.

“No, it's fine,” you shook your head.

“You don't wanna see my snazzy new tiny home?”

“Tiny home,” you chuckled. “Yeah, sure I'd love to see it.”

Sam had a nice little RV with his motorcycle secured on it. It wasn't too fancy inside; his books were neatly organised on a small shelf by the sofa/dining area, the plants you left him on a box by the window, and a large bed in the back with just a curtain for privacy.

“Wow,” you looked around. “What made you wanna get an RV?”

“Eh, just wanted to be able to move around easier,” he shrugged as he sat in the driver's seat. “It's not permanent, but it's been alright so far.”

You took the seat next to him, fastening your seatbelt.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“Its just a few blocks away. Go west.”

It was supposed to be a short drive, but it felt longer to you. You didn't know what to say and neither did Sam, just Spandau Ballet softly playing on the radio filling in the silence.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat. “LA… Why? You planning on being in Hollywood?”

You shrugged. “I've always lived in smaller towns, I thought a bigger city might be an experience.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Do you like it?”

“It's been alright,” you shrugged again. “I haven't gotten around to exploring as much. Oh, it's just here.”

You pointed at the one-story Spanish revival house you've been staying in. Sam parked in front and you picked up your paper bag, heavy with the bottles.

“Let me help you with that,” Sam reached out, his hand touching your arm. It was enough to make you feel hot all over.

He locked eyes with you and for a moment, you thought he was leaning in to kiss you. You instinctively closed your eyes, waiting, but nothing happened.

When you opened your eyes, Sam was holding the paper bag and walking towards the door.

Oh, you were disappointed. What was I expecting?

He walked you to the door, his eyes on you the entire time.

“I missed you,” he said, making your heart leap again.

“Sam,” you looked up at him as you reached your door.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I just… Couldn't get you out of my mind in months, I had to say it.”

“I missed you too,” you softly said.

This time, you felt his lips on yours, and you instinctively kissed him back. There were butterflies in your stomach, but the moment didn't last.

Sam stepped back, his face a little flushed. You felt your cheeks heat up as well.

He held out the paper bag to you. “Um, good night.”

“Good night…” You whispered as he turned to go back to his RV. “Sam, wait–”

He looked back, and you walked towards him.

“You can park in my driveway for the night… Or however long you're going to stay here.”

“I don't want to be a burden–”

“What? Sam, it's me. I…” You bit your lip. “I want you here. Maybe we can hang out.”

“Okay,” he smiled.

You took a deep breath as you closed your door behind you, your heart still racing. Sam kissed you and for the first time in months, you felt… Happy?

You placed the bottles in your fridge, no longer interested in drinking them, then changed into cleaner clothes for bed. You peeked out your window and saw the lights were still on in his RV.

You wanted to go to him, to kiss him more, to hold him again, but you thought of Stephen. True, he wasn't your boyfriend officially, but he trusted you. But still…

You found yourself in front of Sam’s door, and as you were about to knock, Sam opened the door.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

You stood, staring at each other as if you both couldn't believe it. Sam pulled you into his arms, and you kissed him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you in, closing the door behind him with his foot.

He sat you on the table, his hands sliding down to your ass.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his lips moving down to your neck.

You sighed as he left cool kisses on the hot skin of your neck. He pulled you close and you wrapped your legs around his waist again.

“Sam,” you whispered as he began lifting your shirt.

“What–what is it?” He rested his forehead on yours.

“Should we be doing this?” You asked, trailing your finger down his chest.

Sam kissed you. “I don't know, but it feels so right.”

Your shirt and your shorts were discarded somewhere around his RV and Sam had your legs over his shoulders as he kneeled in front of the table. He gave your clit a few licks, his eyes on yours the entire time.

“God, I missed this view,” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“What, your new boyfriend doesn't eat you out?” He gave you a smug smirk.

“He’s not my boyf–”

Sam continued licking your clit, closing his eyes as he pushed his face further against your pussy. It was getting too much for you and you tugged at his hair.

“More, Sam, more,” you moaned.

You felt him smile against you as he began sucking on your clit softly, switching between sucking and licking. You bucked your hips against him but he held you down.

Sam gave a satisfied hum as you came, your thighs squeezing his head.

“How was that?” He stood up, leaning over you on the table. It was then you noticed that he was still fully dressed, but the tent in his grey sweatpants was hard to ignore.

“I think I've been missing out on Samuel Drake,” you chuckled.

He pulled you up and carried you to the bed bridal style.

“Wait, Sam,” you sat up as he climbed over you.

“What?”

“I've been having sex.”

He blinked at you. “So?”

“And you have too, I assume?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “So?”

You pushed him away. “So put a condom on.”

Sam gave you an amused smile. “You know you're the only person I've never had safe sex with.”

“Good to know,” you stuck your tongue out. “But put one on.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, standing up.

Sam held the condom up before climbing on top of you to kiss you. “Happy?”

You took off his shirt and he climbed out of his sweatpants, cock glistening with precum. It was enough to get you wet.

He ripped the condom packet open and slipped it on with ease. Sam gave you soft, sweet kisses as he began pushing inside you.

You both gasped at the sensation, Sam had his lip pinned between his teeth as he pushed deep inside you. He began to thrust slowly and gently cupping your cheek.

“Harder,” you whispered, desperate for more.

Sam groaned as he began pounding into you, his hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts. He kissed you hard as he collapsed on top of you, rolling over so you were on top of him.

“I wanna see you,” he said, moving your hips against his. “I wanna see you fucking me.”

You placed your hands against the headboard, bouncing on his cock. You moaned out his name loudly; something you've been wanting to do for months. It felt so good to finally have him under you and all you wanted was to make him feel good, to make up for all the lost time.

Sam pulled you in to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I missed you too,” you sighed between kisses.

“I forgot how good you feel,” he kissed your neck.

His hands slid down to your ass, spreading then as he rammed his hips up against yours. You grabbed at the pillow at his head, crying out loud. His finger dipped into your asshole and you moaned out.

The dual sensation was enough to make you cum, and Sam wasn’t far behind. He kissed you hard as he came, holding you close.

You were breathless as you rolled off him and he took the condom off, dunking it into the trash.

The bed dipped as he climbed back in, lying on his back next to you.

“Wanna see something cool?” Sam smiled.

He pressed a button and the rather large sunroof opened up, letting in more of the moonlight and the dim streetlights.

“Oh, that is cool,” you grinned. “Why didn't you show me before we fucked?”

“I don't think your neighbours would be too happy seeing us fornicate if they happened to look out the window.”

“You think they can really see us?”

Sam shrugged, putting an arm under his head and stared up at the sky with you.

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” You asked.

“Are you gonna give me the Grand Los Angeles tour?”

“Honestly, I haven't even toured it myself,” you sheepishly said. “It hasn't really felt like home.”

“Well,” Sam looked up in thought. “Maybe we can start with Santa Monica? I believe it isn't too far from here.”

“Okay,” you took his hand in yours.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Alex meets Ari, epilogue

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 |

Content Warnings: demon/incubus character, romance, established relationship, car accident mention, injuries, bruises, arguments, angst, emotional whump, caretaking, consensual kissing and touching, happy ending

Tag List: @deluxewhump @grizzlie70 @gatheringofsuffering @xmonster-under-the-bed @emreads @whumpingmydarlings  @endless-whump​

Author’s Notes: I can’t believe I actually finished something I started!! Once again, thanks so so much to everyone who’s read these. :)

----

Dating Alex is like dating the weather. There are storms and dreary skies, calm overcast days, days of warm sunshine. Getting to know him is like diving into a lake he thinks is shallow only to find unexpected depths of thoughts and feelings, of humor and intelligence. In spite of the relatively mundane life they lead, Arinn finds he is never bored.

All of it is a novelty. Staying with the same person, of course, takes adjustment. Arinn had such a set routine and methodology when it came to finding sustenance that he feels a little lost when it’s gone. But that void is always quickly filled. They binge shows, they try recipes, they take walks. They go to movies and restaurants and, yes, the mummies exhibit and other museums. It’s the closest thing to a normal life Arinn has ever had, yet it feels strange and exciting.

Perhaps the most astounding thing is the lack of pressure to have sex. Before this he was in bed with a new person a couple times a week. Often someone he didn’t particularly like, just to scrounge for the smallest touches to keep himself going. Worse than that, sometimes he would end up discovered, captured and tormented, with no one to help, not like that day Alex found him. The things that were done to him, that he had to bear alone…

But now he only has sex when he actually wants to, and it feels like a small miracle. He enjoys sex well enough, but is more than happy with cuddling, kissing, even lying with his feet across Alex’s lap. And if the kissing gets heated or Alex looks particularly gorgeous that day, well…Arinn certainly isn’t going to complain if they end up in bed.

A little over eight months into dating, Arinn’s lease ends and he moves in. He spends most nights there anyway, but still, it’s a little daunting. But between their jobs and Alex’s therapy and workouts, it doesn’t feel like they’re constantly around each other. Arinn adjusts to it quickly. He can’t deny how incredible it feels to know without a doubt that he won’t go to bed alone each night.

They both work early shifts, starting before dawn and getting home in the early afternoon. So Arinn isn’t prepared at all when Alex comes home telling him he’s going to have to work an evening shift for a couple of weeks.

During the first week, Arinn returns from work only an hour before Alex has to leave to catch the bus. Other than that single hour and when Alex crawls into bed at night, they have no time together. By Friday, Arinn is beyond ready for the weekend. He works Saturday morning, but he doesn’t care. He’s prepared to stay up late just to greedily take in a little extra time with Alex.

“I’ll be home by 10:30,” Alex promises as he gets dressed.

Arinn has the restraint to wait until he’s finished buckling his belt to go over and kiss him. “10:30. I’ll be here.”

Alex’s smile warms him like nothing he’s ever felt. “Good.” He kisses Arinn once, then again, then a third time. He’s contemplating a fourth when Arinn nudges him towards the door.

“Go on,” he says reluctantly. “Have a good day. Night. Whatever.”

Alex laughs as he slips his shoes on. “I’ll try.” And then he’s out the door.

----

10:30 rolls around. Arinn has showered, tidied up the house, and threw together a small meal for Alex to heat up if he’s hungry. Then he plops onto the couch and waits.

At 10:37 he assumes the bus is running late. At 10:49 he wonders if Alex missed the bus and had to catch another. He bounces his leg impatiently and checks his phone every couple minutes in case Alex calls or texts.

He doesn’t.

By 11:00 Arinn is up and pacing. He calls Alex but gets no answer. He leaves voicemails, his voice shaking. He texts him. Where are you? Are you okay? Did work run over? Please answer me.

He said 10:30, Arinn thinks. He said no later than that. He promised. But he isn’t here…

Arinn doesn’t know what to do. He flips between worry and anger and hurt. What if something happened? What if he went out for drinks with coworkers? What if he lied? The possibilities spiral through his mind unchecked.

Then, at 11:43, there’s a key in the lock. It clicks, and the door creaks open.

Alex steps - stumbles - inside and closes the door slowly behind him before leaning back against it with a long sigh.

He looks like hell. His hair is a mess. There’s a bruise on his cheek. His jacket is torn and his clothes are dirty. He’s got one arm draped across his opposite side and he’s breathing raggedly.

Arinn can’t process this. Alex said 10:30, he wasn’t here, Arinn was going out of his mind, and now he shows up looking like this. It’s too much. Before he can stop to think, he explodes.

“Where the hell were you?! It’s been over an hour! Did you get into a fight or something? What the fuck, Alex?”

Arinn is shaking. If he could just stop and think he’d know he isn’t really angry, just shaken. He would see the hurt in Alex’s eyes. He would reach for him with care rather than lash out with accusations.

Alex’s face hardens. He kicks off his shoes and hangs his keys up on the hook.

“Bus crashed,” he mumbles. “Driver had a stroke or something. Ran off the road and rolled onto its side. None of us could leave until we were all looked over by the paramedics and questioned by the police.” He winces as he removes his jacket. “I was lucky I guess. Just some bruising. Got cleared and got a ride here from a cop. Some people left in ambulances.”

Something sinks inside of Arinn. His resolve crumbles and he’s left at a loss for words.

“Why didn’t you call?” he manages weakly. “I would have - have - “

“Have what? Picked me up? We don’t have a car.”

“You still could have told me! Or at least answered my texts!”

“My phone fell out of my pocket!” Alex bursts out. “It’s probably still in the bus being towed halfway across town by now. It’s not like they were going to let me go look for it while they were trying to pry out people who were trapped!”

He begins to walk stiffly toward the kitchen, past Arinn without so much as looking at him. Arinn follows numbly. He watches Alex take a pack of frozen veggies from the freezer and hold it to his side while he leans on the counter for support. His back is to Arinn.

“Fuck...” he whispers. “Alex, I - god, that’s - I don’t know what to say…” Say sorry you idiot! “Thank god you’re alright...I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you…”

Alex huffs. “Guess you’d have to find a new meal ticket,” he snaps. 

As soon as he says it the room feels colder. Tension hangs over them like a dark cloud. There’s a hesitation from Alex. For a moment it seems like he might speak. Might take it back. But he only sighs and carefully makes his way into the living room. Arinn hears him groan as he sits on the couch. He continues staring at the place where Alex was just standing.

Arinn’s feet are moving before he knows what he’s doing. He throws his shoes and coat on over his pajamas and is out the door.

He hears it slam behind him.

He hears “Ari, wait! Shit - “

He keeps going.

He doesn’t look back.

Arinn is a block from the apartment building before he finally slows down. He can barely see the sidewalk ahead of him through the blur of tears.

I fucked up. I fucked up. It’s over. I fucked up.

He’s angry, but only at himself. If Alex meant what he said it has to be because Arinn screwed up, didn’t show him enough that he cared, wasn’t good enough at communicating. He should have known he was in over his head. That it was too good to last.

“Arinn!”

Arinn stops walking. It can’t be…

He whirls around to find Alex staggering after him. Even in the dim light from the street lamps Arinn can see that he’s struggling to remain standing, let alone walk. Yet here he is.

“What are you doing?” Arinn croaks. “Y-you’re hurt, you need to be resting…”

With considerable effort, Alex catches up to him. He’s panting heavily. Arinn can’t decide if he wants to turn and run or pull Alex into his arms. He does neither.

“I’m - sorry - “ Alex gets out between breaths. “I didn’t mean it. I swear. I was angry - it, it just popped out - “

“I don’t blame you,” Arinn says quietly. “Given what you know about me. But if it means anything, I - I don’t see you that way. As just a - a meal.”

“I know,” Alex says, putting his whole heart into the words. His eyes are shining. He looks desperate and fragile and Arinn just wants to gather him close and make it all okay again.

“I know that,” he says again. “Please believe me. I shouldn’t have said that, it was so stupid. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Arinn asks a little too harshly. He flinches and softens his tone. “I attacked you the minute you walked in the door. After the night you had that’s the last thing you fucking needed. I was just scared.” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Alex. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

When Alex speaks again he’s a little closer. Just a few feet from Arinn, but still not close enough to touch.

“Me either,” he says. “This is the first time since coming here that I’ve had to actually use the things I’m trying to get better at...it’s like, therapy was just training but this is the real deal. And I’m so scared I’m going to fuck it all up. Like I did tonight.”

“That makes two of us,” Arinn whispers. He lowers his hands and wraps his arms around himself, feeling cold and brittle. “This - us fighting - is what I was most afraid of. I can’t help what I am. If - if it goes wrong, if we spend time apart or - or - “ he can’t bring himself to even say the words break up aloud for fear they will manifest as real. “ - or separate, what am I supposed to do? I can’t just go sleep with someone else if we’re still together, or if it’s unclear! I’m a lot of things but I’m not a cheater. I - I wouldn’t, I couldn’t…”

Alex listens. He always listens. Even when he’s tired or stressed or angry. Even now, when he’s injured and shouldn’t even be out here.

“You’re right,” he says when he’s sure Arinn is finished. “You can’t help who you are. And I won’t ever really understand what that’s like.” He takes a shaky breath. “What if we made some kind of deal or something. Like, if...if it ever comes to that, you can do what you have to do. No questions asked.”

Arinn’s chest feels tight. He’d do that? He’d let me do that? He knows the depth of Alex’s abandonment issues, between parents who were never around and friends and boyfriends who left him when he needed them most.

And yet he’s willing to look past Arinn sleeping with someone else, willing to trust that it’s nothing more than for his survival. It’s an offer that so many others would happily exploit. The amount that Alex is putting his heart on the line is daunting.

“I don’t want that,” Arinn replies, his voice cracking. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

As soon as he says the words he knows that they’re true.

Alex steps a little closer. His expression is indecipherable. His bottom lip is trembling.

“Really?” And oh, the disbelief in his voice is the most heartbreaking thing. Arinn feels a swell of hatred toward every person who made Alex feel like no one could ever want him.

“Yes, really.” Arinn steps a little closer, too. “Alex…”

The next words terrify him. He feels as though he’s hanging off the edge of a cliff, and if he doesn’t make his move, however risky, he’s going to fall to his death. The truth is all he has now. It could ruin everything, or save it.

“Alex, I love you.”

Fragile silence follows, filled only by the soft chirp of crickets, the hum of someone’s television from a house, a train off in the distance.

A car comes up the road. Its headlights illuminate Alex’s face for a moment and Arinn can see the deep sea of emotion in his eyes.

Arinn is tensed so tight he feels like he might snap. He can feel his mind seeking a way out, the walls he’d let down going up -

“I love you too, Ari.”

With those softly spoken words the walls crumble to dust. He stares, dazed, at Alex.

“Don’t say it just because I said it,” he begs. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Alex is shaking his head. He’s searching for words.

“No, no - you don’t understand, I-I do. I have. For a while now. But I was scared, I didn’t know where we stood. Or if it was too soon.”

“For...a while?”

“Yeah,” Alex says, hanging his head like a chastised child. “Don’t even know exactly when. I think maybe...I was a little in love with you right from the beginning. Which sounds crazy, I know.” He shrugs. “I’m a little crazy, I guess. And a lot to handle. But I know what I feel. And I love you.”

Arinn starts to speak but chokes on a sob. He throws his hand over his mouth. Tears stream from his eyes as he stares at Alex. Alex loves him. No one has ever loved him. He’s never loved anyone. It’s so much all at once, he can’t even get a word out. His sobs grow harder, everything he’s feeling boiling up and spilling over.

He doesn’t see Alex move closer, but he feels it when Alex’s arm wraps around him. He’s right here, warm and solid and real. He loves me…

Arinn finds himself pulled in by his gravity, leaning closer until he can bury his face in Alex’s shoulder. Alex tips his head to rest against Arinn’s.

“Please come home,” Alex whispers. “Please.”

Something between a hiccup and a laugh bubbles out of Arinn. “Of course I’m fucking coming home,” he says, the words half muffled into Alex’s shirt. He slips his arm around Alex’s uninjured side and holds on desperately. Alex kisses his head. Arinn doesn’t comment on the tears he feels drip into his hair from Alex’s cheek.

They stay like that until Arinn’s sobs cease and Alex’s breathing calms. By then it must be near one in the morning. A chill runs through Alex and his breath hitches as the movement jostles his injuries. The sound finally spurs Arinn into action.

“Come on,” he says, gently easing Alex’s face up. Alex looks like he could fall asleep where he’s standing. Arinn cups his cheek and kisses him deeply. “You’ve had a long day. Let me take care of you.”

Alex nods gratefully. He remains glued to his side, leaning heavily against Arinn as they slowly make the walk back.

----

Arinn’s hands shake as he prepares two cups of tea. In the quiet of the apartment there’s nothing stopping him from turning over the events of the night in his mind.

Tonight things came too close to ending, in more ways than one. If Alex hadn’t followed him he doesn’t know if they could have salvaged things the next day or not. He’s never done this. He doesn’t know when to keep fighting and when to give up. Tonight...tonight he gave up too quickly.

But what has him more shaken is the crash Alex was in. What he said was right: he was lucky. Arinn hates that he’s hurt at all, but it could have been so much worse. He could have been hospitalized, paralyzed, concussed, killed…

Arinn shudders and nearly drops the kettle as he goes to put it back. He stops and takes a few deep breaths to calm himself. He’s okay. He’s okay.

He sets the cups on a tray - a real tray, not the baking pan Alex once brought him breakfast on - and carries them to the bedroom, trying to appear more together than he feels.

Alex is resting on the bed with his eyes closed, breathing softly. When they got back he managed to remain sitting up long enough for Arinn to peel off his ruined clothes and get some boxers onto him, then he flopped back against the pillows with a groan while Arinn maneuvered his legs onto the bed and pulled a sheet up to his waist.

Arinn sets the tray on the bedside table and looks at him. He focuses first on the slow rise and fall of his chest. He’s okay. He’s okay. It’s impossible for his eyes not to wander to the deep bruising that mars Alex’s skin, from the left side of his face trailing down over his shoulder and arm, his chest and ribs and side, fading out at his hip.

It’s a fucking miracle that nothing is broken. Something must have padded his fall somewhat. Arinn tries not to think about it too hard, because if he does, he imagines Alex’s body being tossed like a ragdoll against unforgiving metal and he wants to scream.

“Hey,” he says. He sits at the edge of the bed and strokes Alex’s cheek until his eyes open. As soon as he sees Arinn he presses his cheek into his hand. Arinn smiles. If he didn’t know better, sometimes he’d think Alex was the one who survived on touch.

“Tea’s ready. I have medicine, too. Tomorrow I’ll go get you something stronger but this will have to do for now. And then we can go to sleep.”

Alex nods, blinking slowly. He turns his face and kisses Arinn’s palm. “Thank you…”

“Stop that. You don’t have to thank me.” He reluctantly takes his hand away from Alex’s face. “Can I prop you up a little?”

Alex nods again, reluctantly. He draws in a sharp breath when he tries to sit up a little so Arinn can put another pillow behind him. “Ah...fuck, it hurts…”

“I know...I know, babe…” Arinn gets the pillow back there as quick as he can and then eases Alex gently back against it. He kisses all over his face in praise. “Just think, if it was worse and you went to the hospital, some nurse could be doing this right now.”

Alex chuckles. “Guess you’re my nurse instead.”

“Hmm. I don’t think nurses are supposed to do this to their patients…” he dips in and kisses him. Alex’s eyes slip shut and he sighs as their lips part.

“No, you’re right,” he agrees. “That has to be against some kind of protocol.”

Hearing him joke around lightens the weight in Arinn’s chest. He kisses Alex one more time and then takes his teacup from the tray and holds it up for him. “Here…good arm only, remember.”

Alex takes the cup with his right hand and takes a sip. He hums with approval.

“This is good.”

“This is how tea is supposed to taste when you don’t over steep it,” Arinn teases gently.

“Guess you’re making the tea from now on.”

“Gladly.”

While Alex sips at his drink Arinn looks through the things he pulled from the medicine cabinet. There are a couple different varieties of pain pills and some sort of bruise relief gel he’s never heard of.

“That’s for work injuries,” Alex says when he notices Arinn holding the bottle. “Doesn’t happen often but sometimes I drop something on my foot or lose my footing and fall. A coworker recommended it. It does help. I’m not sure I’ll be able to move enough to put it on, though…”

“Who said anything about you putting it on?” Arinn turns the bottle over to read the back. “You aren’t moving an inch. I’m taking care of you.”

When Alex doesn’t answer he looks up. His breath catches when he sees the open fondness on Alex’s face.

“What?”

“Nothing...I’m just...really lucky.”

Arinn feels his cheeks heating and he can’t do a damn thing about it. “Well...I am your nurse, right?”

“Mmhmm. My hot nurse.” Alex winks suggestively. In his weariness the gesture is clumsy, but it still makes Arinn’s blush deepen.

“Good lord, you’re already loopy and you haven’t even taken the pain meds yet.” Arinn pops open the bottle and puts a pill in his hand.

Alex reaches for it, but Arinn decides it’s only fair to turn the tables a little. He shakes his head and holds the pill up. Alex’s eyes follow it as Arinn slips it onto his own tongue.

His brow pinches. “What are you - oh - “

Arinn leans forward and kisses Alex slowly. As he does, he slips the pill into his mouth. When he pulls back, Alex is the one blushing.

He fumbles a little with the tea cup and drinks down the last of it, swallowing the pill. He lets out a shaky breath when he’s finished. “Holy shit Ari, you can’t just do things like that. I’m too banged up to - to - “

“To bang?”

Arinn grins. Alex groans, but he’s smiling. “You’re worse than I am.”

“And yet, you love me.” The words are still as foreign on his tongue as they are in his mind.

Alex’s expression turns soft, almost shy. He takes Arinn’s hand and squeezes it. “Yeah. I do.”

Arinn could drown in that deep gaze. To stay afloat he busies himself with opening the bottle of gel and squeezing some out into his hand.

“Alright. Last bit and then you can go to bed.” His hands hover over Alex’s heated skin. He chews his lip. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

“It’ll only hurt at first,” Alex reassures him. “Then it’ll help.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Okay…”

He starts small, rubbing a tiny bit of the gel onto Alex’s bruised cheek. That goes fine. He rubs it onto his arm and shoulder as carefully as he can and Alex barely flinches.

The bruising on his side is the worst of it, though, and Arinn dreads it. But that’s also where he needs this the most.

Arinn gets some more gel onto his palms. Slowly, gently, he smooths it over the tender skin, flinching himself every time Alex makes a pained sound. “Hang in there…” He makes sure he’s covered every inch before finally moving down to his hip. When he’s done he presses an apologetic kiss to Alex’s chest. “All done…”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you…” He closes his eyes as Arinn continues trailing comforting kisses up his neck and cheek, avoiding the bruised side.

When Alex’s breathing has evened out, Arinn gathers everything onto the tray and brings it to the kitchen to deal with tomorrow. He makes sure the door is locked, shuts off the lights, and then finally slips into bed beside Alex.

He lies there a while staring at Alex’s silhouette in the darkened room. Alex is so still, his breaths so slow, that Arinn assumes he must be sleeping. So it’s a surprise when his eyes open and he turns his head to meet Arinn’s gaze.

“You’re too far away,” he mumbles sleepily.

Arinn exhales. “I can’t exactly sprawl on top of you right now,” he whispers back.

“Then just…” he pats the small but notable empty space between them.

How can he not give in? At least it’s Alex’s uninjured side. He presses up close to him and holds his arm like a child holding a stuffed animal. “Better?”

“Better.”

After another stretch of silence, Arinn can’t help himself. “...Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t...can’t stop thinking about how it could have been so much worse…”

His tail curls over his hip, brushing against Alex’s hand where it lies on the bed. Alex cradles it and strokes it with his thumb.

“But it wasn’t. I’m right here, Ari.”

“But if you weren’t...if you hadn’t made it...you never would have known...” he nearly chokes on the whispered words.

“Known?”

“That I love you.”

“...neither would you,” Alex replies.

Arinn holds his arm a little tighter. He hadn’t thought of it the other way around, but Alex is right. In their fear and insecurity they both held in something the other desperately needed to hear.

“But now - “ Alex’s words are broken by a big yawn. “ - now we know…”

Arinn kisses his shoulder, overwhelmed with relief, gratitude, and love. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.” He kisses again and again, each one slower and sleepier than the last. “Get some rest,” he whispers against his skin. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

And the morning after that...and the next, and the next...

...and every morning after, for as long as you want.

-- The End --