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[etherealising]

two | words left unsaid

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairings: carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!mikey berzatto x fem!reader | original male character x fem!reader

summary: the annual berzatto family christmas is off to a better start than you initially thought it would be. that is until your sucked back into the past and carmy avoids a much needed conversation.

warnings: angst | carmy being the most oblivious man to ever exist | hint of suicidal ideation | probably ooc characters | language (cussing) | minimally edited

wc: 5.7k

Donna Berzatto pulled you into a hug the minute you walked into her kitchen and although the chaos you spotted, and her tangible frantic energy worried you, you were still happy to have a home to come back to during the holidays.

“Let me get a fucking look at you!” She pulled away from you hands moving to your cheeks as she looked at you for a prolonged moment. “Gosh you were always so gorgeous…you know your mother would be so proud of you right.”

You gave her a small smile nodding as best you could while she held your head in place before she pulled you back in for one more hug. Your eyes landed on Hayden leaning against the counter as he raised a wine glass in your direction before throwing the alcohol back, causing you to roll your eyes at him.

You would always appreciate the Berzatto matriarch, a woman who came to feel like a second mom to you. She didn’t replace your mom, no one ever could, but her motherly presence in your life was still felt all these years later. You would always remember your first proper meeting with the older woman when she took on the role of babysitter for your mom, her personality was so vastly different from that of your mother’s that you couldn’t help but find her eccentricity contagious. It always surprised you the friendship that grew between your mother and Donna, but you were grateful for the connection nonetheless. Donna Berzatto who never sent you home empty-handed, and always made enough food for you and your mom to last throughout the week, just so your mother wouldn’t have to worry about fitting grocery shopping into her already hectic schedule. Donna Berzatto who, even when you were old enough to no longer need a babysitter, would send Carmy across the street to fetch you for family dinner, or even just invite you over because she thought you needed company.

And when your mom finally succumbed to her illness a year after your high school graduation Donna made it her mission to make sure you were taken care of and miraculously got the house and other assets in your ownership and till this day you still weren’t sure how she did it, probably not legally. But you would forever be grateful to the Berzatto’s for all they did for you.

“Hayden, don’t be rude, get this girl a fucking drink!” Donna kissed your cheek before stepping away from you and moving to the mess on the stove.

You saw Carmy enter the kitchen out of the corner of your eye, the tension between you was palpable and you were doing your best to be cordial. Carmy reached out to you after everything happened but you never reciprocated his efforts and maybe if you had things wouldn’t still be awkward for you, but you felt your reaction was warranted. While part of you wished to continue ignoring him and not reopen old wounds. Another part of you longed to rekindle the friendship you once shared.

“Mikey tells me you’ve been thinking about moving home, we gonna be neighbors again?” You could hear the smile in Donna’s voice as you moved to lean back against the counter taking the glass that Hayden offered you as he snacked on whatever the hell he found.

The way Carmy froze momentarily at Donna’s words immediately caught Hayden’s attention and he couldn’t help but be annoyed by how hopelessly in love the two of you were with each other. He quickly poured himself another glass before giving some excuse about speaking with Fak and taking his leave, he needed to wallow and you and Carmy’s “unrequited love” bullshit wasn't helping him.

You gave Hayden a small understanding smile as he squeezed your shoulder when he walked past you before giving your full attention to Donna and answering her question. “Yeah…I’ve given it some thought it’d be nice to be with family again.”

A small awkward smile rose to your lips as Carmy made his way towards you stopping right in front of you, “Excuse me…I uh, I need,” he stopped pointing around you instead.

“Oh, yeah here you go.” You turned, grabbing the cutting board he was pointing at before holding it out between the two of you, watching as he avoided your eyes.

“Thanks.” His reply was curt as he reached to take the cutting board off your hands, stopping as you wouldn’t let it go.

You wanted him to look at you and you knew all you had to do was speak directly to him to get the reaction you wanted. “You’re welcome…Carm.”

He held your gaze for a moment, eyes searching your face as his lips parted like he wanted to speak. You allowed yourself a moment to fully take him in. His hair was longer than the last time you’d seen him, the length made his curls more noticeable. Other than that you couldn’t see any other obvious changes, he looked a bit tired but you weren’t sure if that was from his culinary adventures or from being home for a chaotic Berzatto Christmas after so long. You were embarrassed by how easily just staring at him for a few minutes made your chest ache with longing, the smile slowly dropped from your lips as you recalled the reason for that ache. You quickly released your hold on the object.

“If uh, you don’t need any help Mama D I’m gonna go visit with everyone else.” Your voice was quiet as you looked past Carmy to where his mother stood, not sure you could stand to be in his presence for a moment longer.

She waved you off as she stirred whatever was in the pot, “Carmy will help me. Do me a favor Baby and keep Sug out of the kitchen. I don't think I can take her asking if I’m ok for another moment. Oh and send Hayden back in here when you get a chance that kid is fucking hilarious!”

You awkwardly laughed off Donna’s words before moving to exit the kitchen, Carmy awkwardly moved in the same direction as you as he tried to step out of your way. A redness crept up his neck as he did it for a second time.

A small laugh escaped you and you couldn’t help but find his embarrassment funny in that moment, “Excuse me.” Your hand gently gripped his bicep to lead him out of your way as you stepped around him. You sent one last tense smile his way before taking your leave, a weight lifting off your shoulders as soon as you stepped out of the kitchen. All you had to do was avoid Carmy for the rest of the night and all would be well.

It was the same as you remembered it. After letting Hayden know his presence was wanted in the kitchen and with no luck finding Nat, you began your journey upstairs to catch up with Tiff, only for the sight of Carmy’s childhood bedroom door partially open to steal your attention. Even though you came home every Christmas, you hadn’t been inside the room since Carmy left. You made a split-second decision before slipping through the open door, flipping the light on as you entered, not at all surprised to see that it was kept in the same condition from all those years ago.

Nostalgia washed over you as you looked around, so many moments of your younger years took place in this very room, walking into it now was like taking a trip back in time. Slowly, you let your eyes rove around realizing that you could recall a memory from almost every object situated around the space. As you walked in allowing yourself to bask in the nostalgia you spotted what you assumed were Carmy’s belongings, your eyes landed on a pile of journals stacked atop each other, and next to them lay what looked to be culinary books.

You made your way over to the nightstand finger gliding across the cover of the top journal, looking at it you wondered if Carmy kept up with his artistic pursuits or if they had another use. You were tempted to look through one of them but even though your friendship with Carmy was non-existent you would still respect his privacy. Your eyes landed on the edge of the bookmark sticking out of the top of one of the thick culinary books, checking over your shoulder you picked up the book before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

The hardcover was in pristine condition which surprised you considering how rough Carmy was with books when the two of you were younger, but as you began flipping through you found the book filled with annotations sometimes multiple on one page that it was almost impossible to clearly read them. A small smile raised to your lips as you read some of the notes in the margins, fingers smoothing across the dry ink every once in a while as you tried to imagine Carmy writing them.

As you continued flipping through the book it almost felt as though in a way you were learning the person Carmy became, and while a few notes about how to cook certain dishes would never give you full insight. It was enjoyable to see how much obvious pride Carmy felt in his craft. You thumbed through a few pages before finally stopping on the bookmarked page, the margins not nearly as filled in as the previous pages.

A quiet exhale of breath left your lips as your fingertips found the edge of the bookmark. Of all the things it could've been, this was one of the last things you expected Carmy to use to keep his place. The teens frozen in time looked like babies, a quiet huff of laughter the only reaction you could give in the moment as you peered down at the two naive teens in the photo oblivious to just how drastically their lives would change, the irreparable space that would grow between them and fester.

Carmy + Baby end of summer picnic

'i'll miss you forever carm'

A quiet snort escaped at the lovesick message you'd written on the back of the picture before letting Carmy keep it.

Holding the photo in your hand felt like some sort of cosmic joke as you stared down at the two younger, forgotten versions of yourselves. Like the universe was laughing in your face as it led you to this photo. You remembered the moment captured clear as day, your feelings for Carmy began to grow as more than friends and maybe you felt that way all along but you hadn’t noticed. It was a tradition for the two of you to have an end-of-the-summer picnic before the start of a new school year and you worked up all the courage you had to finally admit that you were crushing on him, but your plan never came to fruition as Carmy spilled the beans about his crush on Claire Dunlap and his lovesick expression as he spoke stole whatever hope you had of him ever reciprocating your feelings.

Your eyes watered as you stared at the selfless younger version of you who bottled up what she thought to be love to allow Carmy whatever happiness he wanted. You wished you could hug her, prepare her for the ugly falling out between you and the youngest Berzatto, your chest ached with deep raw emotion as the betrayal of it all awoke in you once more.

“Mikey I fucking swear if yo-,” Carmy’s voice cut through the pity party you were throwing for yourself.

Subtly you raised your free hand to your face to dab at your eyes hoping to whatever forces that were out there the few stray tears didn’t leave any tracks in their wake. You stood up, the book sliding off your lap as you tried and failed miserably to make a quick escape.

“Shit,” you bent down picking up the book, the movement gave you another moment to collect yourself before speaking with Carmy. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be in here.” You turned to him avoiding his eyes as you held the book in one hand and the photograph in the other cursing yourself for losing Carmy’s place in the book and hoping the fall hadn’t damaged his possession at all.

Although you didn’t want to be alone with Carmy on purpose, as he locked you in his gaze you felt like you couldn’t get your feet to listen to your brain. You watched in silence as his eyes fell to where you held the book before latching onto the photograph, giving Carmy a clear image of what made you so upset.

“No, it's uh…it's ok,” Carmy’s voice sounded hollow as he spoke to you, neither of you knowing how to navigate this situation. “Can I-I join you?”

Carmy gestured to where you stood by his bed, surprising you as your hands tightened around the objects in them unsure if the decision you were about to make was for the best, or if you were just feeding into the desires of the younger you. You gave a soft nod watching as his shoulders seemed to lose a bit of tension that you noticed in your short time back in his life, seemed to permanently accompany him.

Knowing Carmy wouldn’t move until you did, you slowly walked around the bed before gently sitting at the foot, inviting Carmy to join you with the tilt of your head. His movement was awkward, unsure like no one prepared him for this moment and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

The two of you sat next to each other, little to no distance between you as his bouncing knee knocked into yours a few times letting you know just how nervous he was. Carmy tried his hardest not to steal glimpses of you in his peripheral vision, but it was hard not to when you were sitting there beside him in a bed the two of you shared countless times. If times were different he might’ve reached out to purposely touch you, to assure himself you were physically here with him. To remind himself of what once was between the two of you. What could no longer be?

“You read now?” Your question pulled him out of the recesses of his mind as he watched you lay the book in your lap, surprised it hadn’t dented from the fall. “Sorry that came out wrong, I just…I remember how much you despised it growing up.”

Carmy listened as your voice trailed off in a whisper, he wondered if thinking about your intertwined past hurt you as much as it did him. He wished he could stay locked in his room with you for the remainder of the evening relearning who you were as a person and learning all about everything he missed out on with you out of his life. He gently reached over grabbing the book out of your lap and setting it to his side before delicately plucking the picture out of your hands, smoothing out a corner your grip bent unconsciously as he spoke.

“Yeah, I uh picked it up at the French Laundry it uh really helped focus me.” He nodded his head remembering the way he would lose himself in the educational books in an effort to stop himself wondering what you were up to.

The quiet giggle you let out drew his attention, his eyes caught sight of your toothy smile before finding your eyes. “Sorry I always just picture you doing a bunch of laundry there.”

He let out a chuckle of his own relaxing more into the conversation as he angled his body towards you, a small smile lined his lips all because of yours. Carmy let his eyes dart around your face wanting to take in the minute joy that he was able to bring forth in you, only to frown as he watched your face slowly lose its happy demeanor as your eyebrows pinched together and you pulled your lip between your teeth.

“What happened to us, Carmy?” The sadness in your voice was obvious as your finger darted out to tap the picture in his hand, after all this time you still had no idea what you did wrong. “I…I miss you so much Carm, I miss us. And I know it's stupid, you made it clear how you felt about me but you were my best friend and I,” you trailed off knowing now wasn’t the right time to reveal all you felt for him.

Carmy let his eyes fall, unable to watch the sadness on your face grow, instead staring at a happier version of you trapped in time “I called Baby…y-you never answered.”

A sardonic laugh escaped you at his words, wishing things were that easy, “I was hurt Carm of course I never answered your calls. I’ve forgiven you for a lot Carmy, more than you probably even know but I couldn’t let you think it was ok for you to say all of those things to me and then just let everything go back to normal.”

Carmy tried, he really did try to understand where you were coming from. He knew he was wrong for hurting you in the way he did but how did you expect things to get better if you were purposely ignoring him? “You could’ve called me Baby, whenever you were over everything you could’ve called.”

“Over it?” Carmy knew he said the wrong words the second the question left your lips. “Well I’m sorry Carm I didn’t get over it soon enough for you, you cut me out of your life of your own volition you pushed me away Carmy. And it would’ve been easier if you just ghosted me or something but you said it yourself Carm I ruined your life and you didn’t need me anymore.”

He flinched as the words left your lips forcing himself into a standing position as he tried to find the right words. “I-I tried ok Baby what more did you want me to do?”

“I wanted you to fight for me, Carmen!” You stood as well, lips trembling as you let years worth of bottled-up emotions spill out. “I wanted to know that I mattered to you how you mattered to me, I would’ve done anything for you, I always put you first above what I wanted. And all I wanted was that same effort in return I wanted to be your priority for once. All you had to do was fight for me…for us Carm.”

“We,” you paused trying to calm yourself down enough to get out a coherent sentence. “We grew up together, you were always my person Carmy and then…then you just threw it all away. You threw me away like I was nothing to you.”

Carmy closed his eyes tilting his head back to the ceiling, it was selfish, he knew it was the moment the thought crossed his mind, but he couldn’t hear these words from you right now, no matter how much he wished to put this tension between the two of you to rest. But the raw emotion in your voice and the tears streaming down your face were too much for him at that moment. He took a second to try and collect the dozens of thoughts racing through his mind. Hoping to land on what he thought you wanted to hear, anything to soothe the indigestion starting to burn through his chest.

He came back to reality, eyes no longer looking in your direction, posture closed off signifying he was done with this conversation whether you agreed or not. He slid the picture in his hand into his back pocket, unable to stare at the happy kids in the picture with hardly any worries.

“Did you?” His voice was quiet as he asked the question head turning in your direction, but eyes never quite landing on your figure, as if he couldn’t stand to look at you. “D-did you fight for us?” He waited for your reply, becoming impatient as confusion washed over your features, deciding to just say what he needed to get off his chest.

“Baby you-…you’re married.”

The words hung heavy in the air between you, Carmy’s voice an exhausted whisper as he spoke them. You looked at him as though his words were news to you, confused as to where he even got that idea from but more than that you couldn’t understand how being married canceled out a friendship with him. Nonetheless, there it was, exactly what you didn’t want to happen: Carmen's incessant need to avoid the tough conversations that he couldn’t help but make everyone else’s problem.

A shocked laugh ripped through you, finding his statement utterly ridiculous, “What the hell are you even talking about?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond not caring about the misinformation at the moment just wanting to call him out on his bullshit. “I know what you’re doing Carmen, and if you can’t face me and hash this out right now then I don’t think there’s much more for either of us to say to each other.”

You stood there for a moment longer, hoping your earlier pleas had somehow gotten through to him, but as he stood there sunken into himself, eyes avoiding you at all cost you knew you were just a broken record talking to a brick wall at this point. An exhausted sigh escaped your lips as you began leaving the room, not wanting to waste any more of your time.

“Baby,” his voice stopped you as you reached the door, hand on the knob as you tried to make your exit. You allowed yourself to turn around expecting more than you should’ve as you found him looking in your direction, words seemingly on the tip of his tongue before he shook his head back and forth.

A teary-eyed smile graced your face as you gave him one last look, “I hope life was everything you wanted it to be Carm.”

You turned, making your exit and closing the door behind you. Your heart ached as you finally realized after so long that maybe there was nothing else in store for you and Carmy.

You made your way through the house, looking for any space that you could compose yourself in, not wanting to ruin anyone else’s Christmas with your unpleasant mood. You did your best to quickly walk past the room containing the Fak Brothers, Steven, and surprisingly a still sober Hayden. Any other time you would have sat comfortably next to Stevie and Hayden as raptly intrigued as they were with the Fak family shenanigans. But in those potential instances, you also wouldn’t have been overthinking every decision you made regarding your friendship with Carmen and wondering why even after that shit show of a conversation you still held an inkling of hope for the two of you.

Continuing your journey through the house narrowly avoiding guests as you went, you quickly backtracked as you noticed a familiar back blankly facing the pantry. You felt bad for even letting the thought cross your mind, but you weren’t sure if Mikey was the right person to seek comfort in, knowing he already had his hands full trying to keep everything under control.

It was ridiculous to let something Carmy said have such an impact on you within such a short amount of time. But if anyone knew who Carmy thought you were married to it was Mikey, and you were adamant on getting to the bottom of the rumor before the end of the night.

You let out a defeated sigh stepping slightly forward to wrap your arms around Mikey’s torso, cheek settling into the space between his shoulder blades, “Your little brother is a fucking idiot.” You murmured voice slightly muffled by Mikey’s back.

A rough laugh escaped through Mikey’s lips as he patted your hand resting on his stomach, “Sure is when it comes to you ain’t he?” He questioned removing himself from your hold to lean his back against the pantry doorway. You followed suit standing opposite of him, the two of you now face to face.

You took in Mikey’s features, brows pinching together at the faraway look in his eyes. It always amazed you that no matter if Mikey was physically in front of you, there was always a chance he was mentally somewhere else. That was the one similarity you could pick out between the two Berzatto boys, while Mikey’s charisma did a good job of hiding it, Carmen’s awkwardness put it on full display.

You reached out tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, “How are you doing Mikey?” You were genuinely curious, it's not like you were oblivious to Mikey’s many faults, the difference was you didn’t think he was a lost cause like everyone else. And as hard as it was to admit it to yourself you would never address the fact that you romanticized who Mikey was as a person. The Mikey you knew as a little girl was still the same Mikey you saw standing before you, and maybe he had a few more demons in his closet that he made sure to keep tightly veiled from you, but it felt egregiously wrong to align your Mikey with the boogeyman everyone else made him out to be.

Mikey laughed swatting your hand away, “It's the most wonderful time of the fucking year Baby, how do you think I’m doing?” Mikey’s adversity in answering your question wasn’t lost upon you, but you knew Mikey wasn’t one to openly talk about how he was feeling. If avoidance was what you were going to get, you knew there was no chance of this conversation going anywhere. You were 0 for 2 with the Berzatto brothers this evening it seemed.

You sighed, knocking your head against the wall you were leaning on, eyes shifting downwards as you prepared yourself for the topic you were about to bring up, “Can I ask you a question, Mikey? And can you be serious with me for one minute?” You pleaded needing someone to validate the way you felt since your less-than-enlightening conversation with Carmy.

Mikey nodded eyebrows pinching together, a lick of concern tickled down his spine. Mikey knew you just as well as he knew his actual siblings. Despite the age difference, Mikey grew up right there with you, watching you grow into the person you are now, learning your mannerisms, and understanding you as a person. You hadn’t asked for it but Mikey made it his mission to know you just as well as the younger Berzatto’s, if you were gonna be tossed into his eccentric family due to circumstance, he would do his best to treat you like a bonus little sister.

The slight nod of his head queued you to reveal your query, “Do you ever feel, I don’t know, like inadequate?” You questioned scratching your nails against the material of your outfit, too consumed by the idea that Mikey would write your odd inquiry off. “Like sometimes it’s just exhausting to even fucking exist and-and there’s no rule book for this shit, but sometimes even your absolute best will never be good enough ya know? Like no matter how hard you try it doesn’t fucking matter because you’re just gonna die someday anyway?”

You chanced a glance at Mikey hoping he wouldn’t take your very real insecurities as a joke. The blank stare in his eyes greeted you by telling you a different story. Mikey was a hard person to read, and though you believed you had cracked the code to his complex soul, it was in moments like these that you knew you couldn’t be more wrong.

The sudden movement of Mikey’s hands reaching up to cup your face and jerk your head closer to him almost caused you to lose balance. “Why the fuck would you say that?” The tone in Mikey’s voice forced you to try and shrink into yourself. “This got anything to do with my shithead little brother?”

Your eyes cast downwards not prepared for the intensity in Mikey’s eyes, your lips parting to respond before abruptly being cut off by Mikey, “Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you, Baby. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” His hands redirected your gaze to his with a more gentle approach.

You shrugged your shoulders, feeling stupid for even talking like this in front of Mikey, “I’m not sure, to be honest. I talked to Carmy, and it went as well as you would guess. And I just, I don’t know, I guess I just got lost in my head. And work has been so stressful lately, I still have two years left in my contract so if I do move back here I’m going to have to buy it out.” You shook your head from his grip, “It's just nonsense, don’t worry about me. I think seeing Carmy after so long just made me spiral.” You offered him a small smile hoping it was as reassuring as you thought it was.

Mikey pulled you into a hug chin resting atop your head. Mikey’s hugs were like magic, a bear hug so comforting and warm, his arms made you feel safe, and protected. You felt a little selfish for constantly dumping your problems on Mikey, but he had become your closest confidant, you wish the same could be said about you from Mikey’s point of view, but you were already lucky enough that he shared what little nuggets of the inner working of his life that he did with you.

Mikey pulled back, his hands settled on your shoulders to get a good look at you, “Don’t let me hear you say shit like that again alright Baby?” You nodded the corner of your lips curving slightly as Mikey played the role of big brother and began scolding you. “You’re a great fucking girl alright, and don’t even worry about Carmy, you’ve got a heart of fucking gold. You’re like that motherfucker with the gold touch alright, and I need you Baby okay? I need you and that means something right, you’re fucking adequate these fuckers in this house wish they were you.”

You laughed, the melodic sound filling the space between the two of you, “King Midas.”

Mikey’s hands dropped from their position on your shoulders frowning at you, “Who the fuck is that?”

“The motherfucker with the gold touch,” You joked.

“Alright, you fucking smart ass.” Mikey reached up to flick your nose, a small gesture carried on from childhood.

The two of you stood in the other’s presence for what felt like forever, no words needing to be passed between you. You and Mikey enjoyed being in each other's company, using the pantry as a place of solace before returning to reality. The sound of Donna’s voice yelling about saltines pulled you out of the moment as you listened to Carmy’s reply unaware of when he made his way back downstairs. You glanced in the pantry spotting the saltines Carmy would be coming to acquire a small sigh leaving your lips. If Carmy was going to avoid a much-needed conversation, you would just avoid him. Sure it was petty but you wanted him to somehow get a taste of the suffering his lack of effort caused you.

“Well, this has been fun, but I’m currently avoiding that brother of yours.” You shot Mikey a sarcastic smile preparing to find some other hole to hide in before family dinner commenced only to remember what you came to ask him about in the first place. “Did you tell him I was married?”

Mikey let out a full belly laugh causing you to frown at his reaction, unsure if he was laughing at the thought of you being married or Carmy just being an idiot. “Where the fuck did he get that idea from?”

His question hung in the air before realization washed over the both of you, Mikey’s smile widened as you let out a groan “Richie.”

You should’ve known someone planted the idea in Carmy’s head you just couldn’t believe Carmy fell for it. Though you still couldn’t understand why something of the sort would ever matter to Carmy in the first place.

“My little brother is a fucking idiot,” Mikey chuckled moving out of the way to allow you to pass by. You laughed glad that someone agreed with your astute observation skills. Deciding to check on Tiff you nicked the box of saltines and made your way to the stairs before stopping at the landing.

“Hey.” You turned back to Mikey catching his attention for a brief moment, if the raise of his eyebrows was any conformation. “I love you brother bear.” You shot him a wink then proceeded to continue your previously decided journey.

Mikey watched your figure disappear up the stairs, a solemn smile resting on his lips. The idea that you had at one point harbored such unnerving thoughts scared him. But what scared him, even more, was he knew exactly what you were talking about.

a/n: posting this update because i know this work week is going to push me past my limit and i'm gonna need something to take my mind off to it. 🫶🏼

enjoy chapter 2 of the rewrite please fangirl with me i am begging i love hearing all your thoughts and theories. likes/comments/and reblogs are highly appreciated. 🤍

also please make sure to take care of your mental health this week regardless of what tuesday's outcome is, it's going to be rough so please take care of yourselves and stay safe!!

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: gen cw: Steve Harrington has bad parents, holiday celebrations, period typical homophobia, show typical trauma tags: it's the 90s y'all, older steddie, established steddie, stancy is mentioned, reclaiming holidays word count: 728

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written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "stocking" and the @steddiemas prompt "surprise"

Christmas had never been Steve’s favorite holiday. He was more of a Thanksgiving guy. A big meal, friends and family, and a little bit of football? It was exactly how Steve would describe the perfect day.

Not to mention Thanksgiving was more relaxed than Christmas. There was a certain pressure around Christmas time that Steve swears he’d call one of his earliest memories. Life had moved on a long, long way from trying to eat the lights on the tree but the pressure to be well-behaved and happy was the same.

However, finding his own little community did help some. Not that any of them were any more Christmas people than Steve. Chrissy was the closest, she liked to entertain so any excuse. Nancy and Jonathan had a kid now so they had to celebrate but other than that, they were all fine to let the day come and go. It was an obligation best spent with friends who were suffering the same way.

This year was a little different. For the first time in Steve’s life, he had his own place to celebrate. Not an apartment he and Eddie shared with Robin and Chrissy, not his family home that he was allowed to stay in, this was his. And Eddie’s. Mostly his though.

A modest little home just outside suburbia with a lawn and a two-car garage, Steve loved the place. He’d spent the last nine months fixing all the things that needed repaired and updated which only made him love it more. This was where he was going to spend the rest of his life.

It was that ownership, that security of something for forever, that had him buying a Christmas tree a little early this year. Not out of obligation but because there was a perfect spot in the living room for it. Right in front of the window yet not in the way. It wouldn't take up the only communal space and no one would tell him how to decorate it, so why not?

They gave it a few simple decorations and a new string of lights, Steve wasn’t going crazy here. He still didn’t care about Christmas, but this symbolized so much more. Something that became more and more obvious with each new bit of seasonal decor that found it's way up. What really cinched it was the stockings, though. Something about really said "Christmas" to Steve.

One for him and one for Eddie. Their stockings hung in their home as they would be for the rest of their lives. It probably shouldn’t have made Steve as emotional as it did. He couldn’t stop looking at them. All that they’d fought to be alive, everything they went through, made this feel like a luxury. One Steve couldn’t believe he’d earned.

But he had. There were scars, nightmares, and weekly trips to the therapist to prove it. Whether he’d ever feel like they were safe or that he could fully let his guard down, time would still tell, but Steve was starting to feel worthy of more than just existing.

And there was one more thing this picture-perfect life needed.

It wasn’t exactly possible but times had changed enough that Steve and Eddie could live together and even if it raised a few eyebrows, people kept quiet. It wasn’t enough but it was something. Still, Steve knew. He knew there wasn’t anyone else on this planet for him and the only reason he wasn’t married to Eddie was because it wasn’t legal.

So with a bit of scrambling and all the romantic creativity in his body, Steve bought a ring and wrote a little speech. He sat on both for almost a week without saying anything so that he could pull off the surprise a moment like this was worth.

When Christmas morning rolled around, Steve’s stocking was overflowing with trinkets, candies, and other little goodies but Eddie’s sat looking practically empty. Steve rooted around through his and tried to not watch a very disappointed man dig down to the toe of his monogrammed stocking, chasing the only thing in it.

By the time he’d succeeded, Steve had ditched his candy and was waiting on one knee. This was the last thing he needed to make this the life he’d always dreamt of and maybe the first step in making Christmas something truly magical.

[leiflitter]

More

Hello from Blighty thoughts about Saltburn

As a continuation from my reply to @armands-eyefuckery because BRAIN

Aight gang let's have a lil sit down because there is a big ol angle to the film that I think is getting missed by a lot of folks who aren't from the UK because it's a very uh...

British Thing.

IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT OLIVER IS FROM THE NORTH.

Cut because Length.

Now look. I am not going to go into Thatcher and Her Crimes, but it's worth a google. I do bring it up in You're Almost Home because...

Lots of people are saying Oliver is upper middle class, and honestly? That doesn't track for me. At all. Yes, his parents have a detached house in a nice suburb and they went on holidays, but there's a lot of Very British Context to them that I really want to point out. Also remember, it's 2006/2007. That is also important.

First of all- Oliver's parents probably never went to University.

Really listen to them. How gullible they are- they believe that Oliver can study at Oxford, and be on the rowing team, and be in plays, and be top scholar. He's always been so clever. If Oliver was anything near upper middle class, his parents would be educated professionals. Oliver probably has dockworkers not even three generations back- his dad has management vibes, but he probably worked his way up in the 70s when all you needed was a good attitude and not to be an obvious murderer.

Secondly- let's talk about the house.

As someone from Down South who has also lived Up North, Oliver's Parent's house would not have been as expensive as people think. Let's assume they bought it in the 1980s- we ALL know that house prices are through the roof NOW, but even today there is a huge gap between house prices in the south and the north. 200k down South might get you a one bedroom flat, if you're lucky. 200k in Prescot can get you a 4-bed, semi-detached HOUSE. Check rightmove.

It is also important that the house is relatively new-looking, because over here Upper Middle Class people aren't really into new build houses- if Oliver was upper middle class, he'd be living in something Victorian or Edwardian. Probably somewhere with a good link to London, especially in 2007. It also means that Oliver's parents may not have even bought it outright- my parents got on the housing ladder via a shared ownership scheme. Oliver's parents aren't rich.

Now, the holidays. Mykonos. Another fun Brit thing is the package holiday. Here's a pretty interesting article about them;

Two adults and three kids could absolutely have gone to Mykonos every year in the late 80s/90s for far less than you'd expect, especially if they paid in installments each month.

I also mentioned about Ollie being from Merseyside specifically, but again. CONTEXT. Although Oliver isn't Liverpudlian (it's important, he's from NEAR Liverpool but not Liverpool itself) the North of England as a whole has routinely been fucked over by those in power. The government AND the royals and the very wealthy. It's still ongoing today- again, another fun source.

Remember when Mr Eats-Crunchies-Sideways called him a Bootlicker? That's fucking IMPORTANT. To many folks he IS a bootlicker. He is highly unlikely to have been raised to grovel at the feet of those with hereditary titles and wealth, and honestly he doesn't. I've written before about how Oliver Denies Felix Things and how that dynamic is important. Oliver likely hasn't been raised with any real deference to The Rich (except Princess Diana).

It also effects Oliver's response to Felix, because goddamn it THATCHER again- it is HIGHLY likely that Oliver has lived through a lot of homophobia. Internalised a lot of it. Felix's parents do not give a shit, but that was not the norm. Again, tried to hit on it in YAH, because times have changed since the 90s/2000s and people change with them, but no fuckin wonder Oliver never responded to Felix chirpsing him like a maniac. He's fucking REPRESSED when he's in Oxford, pals. It also makes sense with that weird Tumblr Dom shit he pulls; he's still fuckin weird about it, he's just being In Charge so he doesn't need to be vulnerable in any way. He is only vulnerable for Felix, and even then he can't SHOW felix that, that would be gay.

Leiflitter over'n'out

[laz-kay]

My Louise Belcher headcanons that no one asked for:

Absolute weeb. Loves anime, K-POP and Japanese candy. Swaps BTS cards with Millie on the sly and has a crush on every member of TWICE.

Eats like a bird. Prefers snack food to huge meals and gets full really quickly.

Cried for days when Tina moved out. Locked herself in Tina's room and eventually claimed it as her own. They'd end up sharing the same bed whenever Tina came home for the holidays.

Keeps a list of Rudy's inhalers, EpiPens etc in case of emergency. She carries spares with her at all times too.

Has recurring nightmares about Tina drowning after the show and tell incident in the cave. She checks in on her most nights to see if she's still breathing.

Slept with her Kuchi Kopi nightlight on until high school. Only started sleeping in full darkness when Bob and Linda invested in a weighted blanket for her.

Exceptionally protective of Gene, despite him being her older brother. Would gladly gut punch someone if they got in the way of Gene's happiness.

Never went to college and eventually took over ownership of the restaurant. She hired all of her broke, unemployed friends so they could work together.

Has a hugely strategic, sharp mind. Notices little things about people and situations that others don't see. Highkey the smartest Belcher kid but doesn't necessarily apply it in the "right" way as Ms Labonz has said in the past.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 25 Home Between the Holidays

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

You and Jake returned to your home in Wisconsin early on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. True to his nature, Jake insisted on handling all the heavy lifting himself, ensuring you remained comfortable. While he brought in your luggage, you strolled into the kitchen.

Your cell phone buzzed, and you saw that it was Dr. Colson calling. You answered with a casual, "Hey, Jason."

"Y/N, I was just calling to follow up on the Wyoming study," Jason said, diving straight into business.

You let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the conversation. You still hadn't broached the subject with Jake, and you knew how he'd react. Heading towards the office for some privacy, you replied, "I reviewed what you sent, and you're right. It doesn't add up. But, Jason, I can't go to Wyoming right now. Jake's home, and I need to talk to him about it."

Jason's voice was sympathetic. "I understand, Y/N. Family comes first. Just keep me posted on when you can make it out there. We need to get to the bottom of this."

"Of course," you replied, grateful for his understanding. "I'll talk to Jake tonight and let you know as soon as possible."

After ending the call, you took a deep breath, resting your head in your hands, you were lost in thought when you heard Jake's voice.

"Darlin', you alright?"

Startled, you lifted your head and turned to see Jake standing in the doorway of the office, concern etched on his face.

You managed a small smile, trying to mask your inner turmoil. "Yeah, I'm fine," you replied, hoping he wouldn't see through the facade.

Jake stepped into the room, his concern deepening as he approached you. "You sure? You seem a bit off."

You hesitated, debating whether to confide in him about the Wyoming study. But you knew you couldn't keep it from him any longer. Taking a deep breath, you decided to be honest. "Actually, Jake, there's something we need to talk about." You slowly walked over to him. "Before Thanksgiving, Jason asked if I would travel to Wyoming," you began, meeting Jake's gaze. "Apparently, Stryker's info isn't making any sense. Even the information he sent me isn't adding up."

Jake listened quietly as you spoke, his expression becoming more serious with each word. When you finished, he remained silent for a moment, processing the information.

Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but firm. "You know how I feel about Stryker," Jake said with a hint of frustration.

"I do," you replied softly.

He walked over to you, his hands gently finding their place on your slightly swollen tummy. "And you know how I feel about the pregnancy."

You placed your hand on his, the connection between you grounding and reassuring. The two of you locked eyes, sharing an unspoken understanding. "I do." Feeling the weight of his words, you took a deep breath, the reality of the situation settling in. Despite the challenges and uncertainties, you found solace in the unwavering support and love you shared with Jake.

"I just want to protect you and our baby," Jake said, his voice filled with emotion.

"I know, Jake," you replied, your voice gentle yet resolute. "And I appreciate that more than you'll ever know, but I still have a job to do."

"A job you said you didn't want, that's why you took the one here," Jake stated, his tone tinged with a mixture of concern and apprehension.

You nodded, acknowledging his concern. "I know, Jake. But this isn't about what I want anymore. It's about doing what's necessary to ensure our family's future, especially with the baby on the way."

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just don't want you putting yourself in danger, especially now."

"I'll be careful, Jake. And I won't do anything without talking to you first," you assured him, your voice soft but determined. "But right now, we need to figure out what's going on with Stryker and the Wyoming study."

Jake looked at you, his expression softening as he realized the weight of your words. "Alright," he said finally, a hint of resignation in his voice. "But I'm going with."

You looked at him, incredulous. "Seriously?"

He met your gaze with a firm nod. "Seriously."

"I'll call Jason and let him know then," you said, determination in your voice.

"And Chuck is coming too," Jake added, confirming the decision.

"Okay," you replied, a bit surprised by the sudden addition but trusting Jake's judgment. "I'll let him know."

With the decision made, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

"I'll call work and talk with them to see when we can leave," you said, already heading over to the desk.

"I'll finish bringing in the luggage," Jake offered.

"Just leave it in the mudroom," you instructed, already dialing John Andrysiak's number.

Jake nodded and exited the room, leaving you to make your call. As he left, Chuck entered the kitchen.

"Lieutenant. Welcome home. I have to say, I was shocked when Doc texted me that you were home," Chuck greeted, his surprise evident in his tone.

Jake looked at Chuck with a serious expression. "Chuck, what do you know about this Doctor Stryker?"

Chuck's surprise was evident as he considered the question. "I'm not a fan of his, that's for sure. Why do you ask?"

"Y/N has to go to Wyoming to fix something he screwed up," Jake explained, his frustration evident. "I want you to go with us."

Chuck nodded without hesitation. "Of course. I'll make sure everything is taken care of before we leave," Chuck assured.

"I'd appreciate it," Jake said, acknowledging Chuck's words, just as you walked out of the hallway from the office.

"It's all set. We leave Wednesday," you announced, glancing at Chuck. "Did he tell you?"

Chuck nodded. "Yes, Ma'am. I'll make sure everything is squared away by then."

"Thank you, Chuck," you replied gratefully, then turned back to Jake. "I'm going to go check on some emails."

"That's fine, darlin'. I'll take care of things here," Jake assured you with a reassuring smile.

You turned back around and headed towards the office.

You sat at your desk, your eyes fixed on the numbers displayed on the computer screen. You were trying to decipher what Stryker had done differently compared to the first time you went to Wyoming. While you understood that circumstances could change, the magnitude of the discrepancies suggested something more was at play. It was clear to you that there was more to this situation than initially met the eye.

There was a gentle knock on the door and you looked up and saw Jake.

"You looked so lost in thought that I didn't want to startle you," Jake said softly as he walked into the room.

You smiled warmly at him. "I don't think there's ever been a time when you've startled me, Jake. Surprised me, yes. Startled, no."

He approached you, his concern evident in his eyes. "Darlin', why don't you come eat dinner and get some rest? It's been a long day."

"You're right," you admitted, realizing just how exhausted you felt after the day's events. "Dinner and rest sound perfect." You slowly stood up, neatly organizing the papers into a pile and shutting down your computer.

Jake couldn't help but notice the weariness etched on your face. "Y/N, don't you think you're overdoing things?" he asked, his concern evident in his tone.

You paused, considering Jake's words. His concern was always genuine, and you appreciated his attentiveness to your well-being.

"I might be," you admitted with a soft sigh, feeling the weight of the day's responsibilities settling on your shoulders. "But this is my life, Jake. Just like being a fighter pilot is yours, this is mine," you explained, a hint of frustration in your voice. You wobbled slightly, feeling the strain of the day, and Jake rushed to your side.

"How about you go and take a bath, and I'll bring dinner to you?" Jake suggested gently, his concern evident in his voice. "Y/N, I know this is your life, and I still struggle with it, but you're wearing yourself out."

You paused, considering Jake's suggestion. His caring tone softened your frustration, and you realized he was right—you were pushing yourself too hard. Taking a deep breath, you nodded in agreement.

"Okay," you conceded, giving Jake a grateful smile. "A bath sounds heavenly right now."

Jake's concern melted into a gentle smile of his own. "I'll get everything ready for you," he promised, guiding you towards the bathroom with a supportive arm around your waist.

In the bathroom, Jake started running the bathwater as you began to undress, feeling the warmth of the steam from the water already soothing your tired muscles. You reached for a hair clip, quickly securing your hair into a loose bun to keep it from getting wet.

As you settled into the warm water, you let out a contented sigh, feeling the tension slowly melting away. The soothing aroma of lavender filled the air, calming your mind and easing your tired muscles. It was like stepping into a sanctuary, a moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of your day.

Jake kissed your forehead tenderly, his gesture filled with love and care, before quietly leaving you to relax and unwind in the comforting warmth of the bath.

With each passing minute, you could feel yourself unwinding, the weight of responsibility lifting from your shoulders. Jake's thoughtful gesture brought a sense of comfort and relief, reminding you that you didn't have to face life's challenges alone.

As you soaked in the bath, your thoughts began to wander, despite your earlier hesitations about Jake re-entering your life after four years. You couldn't help but imagine what it might have been like if you had chosen a different path, if you had quit your job and embraced the life of a Navy pilot's wife.

You imagined a life where you and Jake navigated the challenges of military life together, supporting each other through deployments and homecomings, sharing the joys and sorrows of a life intertwined with the Navy. You envisioned quiet moments at home, curled up together on the couch, sharing stories and dreams as the world outside seemed to fade away. Would you have had more than one child by now?

But alongside those idyllic visions, doubts and uncertainties lingered. Would you have been content living in the shadow of Jake's career, sacrificing your own aspirations for the sake of his? Would you have felt fulfilled without the sense of purpose and accomplishment that came from your work?

As the water began to cool, you found yourself torn between the familiarity of the life you had built for yourself and the allure of the possibilities that might have been. But amidst the swirling currents of doubt and longing, one thing remained clear: whatever path you had chosen, Jake would always be an integral part of your life, a constant source of love and support, guiding you through the twists and turns of fate. You loved him and he loved you even without each other for four years.

You sighed as you thought about your husband's handsome face and your hand gently touched your stomach. Would this child be more like you, more like Jake or a mix of the both of you?

As the water began to cool, you found yourself torn between the familiarity of the life you had built for yourself and the allure of the possibilities that might have been. But amidst the swirling currents of doubt and longing, one thing remained clear: whatever path you had chosen, Jake would always be an integral part of your life, a constant source of love and support, guiding you through the twists and turns of fate.

After a while, Jake gently knocked on the bathroom door, his voice warm and reassuring. "Dinner's ready, darlin'. Whenever you're ready to come out. Just come to the bedroom."

"Okay," you replied softly as you reached for the drain, allowing the water to begin its slow descent.

Carefully, you stepped out of the bathtub, the cool air enveloping your skin as you grabbed a plush towel and began to dry yourself off, feeling the tension slowly dissipating with each gentle stroke.

The softness of the towel against your skin was soothing, and you relished the simple comfort it offered as you dried yourself off. With each stroke, you felt the tension of the day melting away, leaving behind a sense of calm and relaxation.

As you wrapped the towel around yourself and stepped out of the bathroom, you were greeted by the familiar warmth of your bedroom. The soft glow of lamplight cast a gentle ambiance, inviting you to unwind and let go of the stresses of the day.

You walked over to your dresser, selecting a pair of comfortable lounge pants and a tank top. Just as you were about to dress, Jake walked in, closing the door behind him. He paused, his gaze fixed on you, clad only in a towel.

Slowly, he approached you, his steps measured. Coming up from behind, he enveloped you in his arms, gently placing his hands on your swollen tummy, a gesture filled with tenderness and warmth.

He kissed the back of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "You are so beautiful," he whispered softly.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped by his touch. The towel slipped to the floor, forgotten, as Jake's hands gently cradled your swollen belly, the moment filled with tenderness and love.

You turned towards him, your eyes meeting briefly before your lips touched in a gentle, loving kiss.

The kiss was tender and reassuring, a moment of connection that reaffirmed the bond between you. As your lips parted, you felt a sense of calm and comfort wash over you, knowing that despite the challenges and uncertainties, you had each other to lean on.

Jake's hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth.

"I love you too, Jake," you replied, your voice equally soft but firm with conviction.

He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891

[theneighborhoodsave]

Final Willow Creek map update + remaining to do list!

It's so close I can feel it y'all. This is the final long update before release. Finally!

Marked on the map here with the crappily drawn circles (lol) are the lots with vacancies. I wanted there to be different options in each neighborhood. There's an apartment, a beach rental home, a tiny starter, a 19th century fixer upper, and then there'll be a "upscale" type home in Pendula View. Here's what's left:

3 total homes in Pendula View

Finish decorating occupied homes in Courtyard Ln.

3 households in CAS

All the details- relationships, jobs, clubs, holidays, retail ownership. Yeah that's gonna take some time...

Due to the existing For Rent bug I'm not sure I'll be setting up official ownership of rental lots like I planned to. So we might be playing pretend on those!

Auditorium in Copperdale to match the HS

Annnddd last but not least testing (mutuals I'm lookin @ y'all 👀)

I'm going to continue to share the remaining households and some additional progress as I wrap up. Very exciting to be this close to my goal! ✨

[myshareproperty]

Discover Unforgettable Getaways with Co-Ownership Holiday Homes at My Share Property

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[dirty-slapper-roxy]

What A Weekend, Definitely One Of My Busiest Under Master Bradleys Ownership. This Is The Cost Of Me Being ill With Flu And Covid Recently And Not Earning Money For Myself And My Master.

Master Bradley Has Asked Me To Share My Weekend Here To Tell You The Type Of Girl I've Become Now Since My Transition.

Saturday Morning I Learnt That I Was Responsible For Wrecking A Marriage, When The Clients Daughter Walked In On Us When Giving Her Dad A Blow Job. His Belongings Were Dumped In The Garden. Whoops Sorry Mate.

Saturday Afternoon Was The 1st Of Two 8 Hour Bookings From Master Bradley At The Whore House As My Home Is Now Called From Master. The Whole 8 Hours Was Spent In The Bedroom Getting My Boy Pussy Well Oiled And Giving Blow Jobs Which Is The Norm, And In Between The Bed Sheets For Fun And Frolics. He Left At 8pm Then My 2nd Booking Was At 11pm For Another 8 Hour Session, Had This Client Before And He's Also A Married Man With 2 Young Girls. Very Much Like The Ist Client I Had But I Gave Him A Good Massage And Spent Almost 1 Hour Rimming His Hole. (MY TongueIs Still Aching Now Lol) He Left About 7 To Get Back In Time To His Wife And Kids Who Belived He Was Working His Nightshift, When He Actually Booked It As Holiday.

Sunday Was No Rest For Me Either, After 6 Hours Sleep I Was Awoken By Master Who Wanted Me To Walk The Streets Of Hatfield, Which Is 25 Minute Drive By Master. Master Was Doing Stuff In Hatfield For Rest Of The Day So Wanted Me To Work The Streets For About 5 to 6 Hours. He Had Already Organised A Meet With A Client As First Job, And This Was Done At His Home Address Where My Boy Pussy Got Oiled Again (Condom Used) And A Blow. On The Streets Just 1 Client Who I Blew In His Car. Met Another Street Worker Who Didn't Give Her Name And She Had 2 Clients Already That Day. Back Home Now Hopefully To Rest, Luckily Tomorrow (Monday) I Don't Have A Dance Class To Attend, But Knowing Master I Will Be Busy Being The Whore I've Become Under Master Bradley. Oh He Mentioned Tonight That He Wants Me To Have Another Lip Filler Injection. I Questioned Why They Are Maxed Out As They Are. He Just Said To Make Me Even More Attracted To Newer Clients.

[tea-and-finalfantasy]

My Akatsuki Gift Exchange 2023 piece for @rukosband; domestic Kakuzu/Hidan with Fū as their child (and Deidara as her fun, chaotic uncle). Hope you like it and have a happy holiday season! :D

Read on Ao3 | @akatsuki-gift-exchange | @foriamproud

It’d been long enough since he’d left his home village for the trauma not to trail behind, to make marks in the dirt right beside his own footsteps, the two almost one singular thing, but sometimes he still wakes in the morning in a particular headspace, as if something lost completely to his subconscious makes him start the day out of body.

Hidan's always been more comfortable with the lively parts of romantic, domestic life: the long, enthusiastic conversations when there's a topic they're both—oddly or understandably—passionate about, like the need for better streetlights in their part of town, it being particularly out of the way and thus relegated to the dark, or whether the definition of a sandwich is reliant on the type of bread, if necessitating bread at all (would two pieces of pizza pressed insides together count as they’re bread-based? if not needing to be bread, what about lettuce as a bun substitute? if—)

Or the kind of spontaneity and innocence that comes with raising kids, especially one as rambunctiously curious as Fū, having Hidan's self-awareness—knowing exactly what she wants and being set on getting it—and Kakuzu's commanding presence, similarity solidified in their shared skin tone and eye shape, but with a loud friendliness all her own.

Whenever things got a bit too serious, being a comforting presence was difficult for Hidan, regardless of Kakuzu’s attempts at reassurance, they two entangled in their own concerns and insecurities, forming a circle where either one could feel a poor support or a burden.

He tried and tried hard but Kakuzu could tell in the way he held himself—tensely, nervously, as if both on edge and unsure throughout the entire ordeal no matter how insignificant the annoyance in Kakuzu’s mind—that he was unconfident, even as he brought his partner a mug of smoked tea with frothed milk the moment he noticed the other stiff and silent in bed, unable to get up.

“Hey, I know we were supposed to go skating today but if you—”

“No, Fū’s been waiting for this all week and she shouldn't have to miss out because of me; you and Deidara will be more than enough company for her. I'll do my cooking and see you both tonight.”

Cooking. His cooking. Something with ownership and purpose and choice; a comfort, a routine, a distraction—but an involved one, not merely something he’d settle for, something that would barely beat back the anxieties, a second of lapsed focus enough to make his hands begin to shake.

Getting up was a blur, the heat of the mug the only thing to ground him and it rapidly going cold, but Fū’s voice from the kitchen broke him out of it, her footsteps clunky against the wood floor, her gait affected by the big boots, by the puffy jacket weighing heavy on her shoulders.

"Papa, Daddy says you're not coming ice skating?"

"I'm sorry, sweet pea," he says as he squats to meet her face to face, his knees cracking when they bend. He speaks quietly, these affectionate words ones only she's allowed to hear—the same reserved, shy attitude he takes when using terms of endearment for Hidan, unused to intimacy no matter his constant longing to practice it.

"Papa had a bad dream last night and needs to rest at home today. Your uncle Dei will keep you company and you make sure to tell him I said to buy you a churro and a big apple cider with whipped cream.”

She gasps and hops excitedly in place, sharing the same mischievous smile with her Papa—she excited at getting the good snacks, he happy because she’s happy (and because Deidara is paying).

"Just don’t eat too close to suppertime, ok?" he says, addressing them both, both Fū and Hidan replying in turn that they won’t, promising to be on their best behavior.

"See you later, love you," Hidan says in a low voice—comfortably, naturally, solid in routine—as he and Kakuzu peck each other's cheeks, as Hidan pulls his coat on and readies himself to leave.

Kakuzu holds Fū's frame gently as she hugs him around the calves and he makes sure to watch them carefully as they go, all the way down the driveway and then out of sight, past the trees, before settling into himself, alone.

One of the first things he gravitated towards once he moved, once untethered from the constricting expectations of his homeland, was cooking. He’s a homebody by nature so the change was immeasurably difficult at the time, softened only by the recipes he scribbled down before he left, but it ultimately allowed for much greater freedom in the long run, the ability to break the constraints of both gender and tradition.

Here, he took whatever wasn’t tainted, wasn’t molded over by abuse, and cooked the liquor off. He learned to knead and leaven like a woman of his village, learned to lay patient overnight and be rewarded for it. He stirred and sat and salted until only the good kept, added and added and added, refusing to mask the taste of his previous home or to remove it altogether, until he could taste the person he was then within the person he is now, could taste the saltwater brine of his youth amongst the garden growth curling against the windows of their home.

-

“Here, I’ll help you,” Fū beams, genuinely trying to help Deidara up from the ice, despite her small stature, while Hidan laughs, only having a moment to do so before he slips as well.

“Maybe you should teach us how to skate,” Hidan says, letting her help them both onto their feet and guide them towards one of the rink side benches. She’s a natural, just from the few visits here from previous years, but would’ve still benefitted from someone more skilled holding her hand and keeping her steady, picking up the slack when her little legs got tired, someone unusually skilled in many particular things, things necessitating care and meticulousness and grace—someone like Kakuzu.

But beyond the issue of it being a poor mental health day for his partner and the anxiety for both of them over not knowing how long it would span, they’d fared fine today in his absence, Fū glad to see her Uncle, glad to watch the ducks and geese on the other side of the rink’s edge, glad she could get a large drink and a snack, Hidan upholding Kakuzu’s word, even if she only finished part of each, saving the other portion for her Papa.

“That’s real nice of you, sweetie,” Hidan says, patting her head and tugging her close where she falls in height at his knee. “Are you sure you don’t want Uncle Dei to just buy another one?” he half jokes, meeting Deidara’s pout with a lopsided smile.

“No, I want him to have this one. I want to share mine with him because I miss him.”

Hidan and Deidara share a look, rubbed tender by the sentiment, and both move to comfort Fū, no matter how steadfast she is about it on the outside, Hidan smoothing a hand over her cheek and Deidara patting her back.

 “Should we bring it back to him while it’s still warm then? I’m sure he’s almost done making dinner by now.”

Fū makes an affirmative noise and heads excitedly towards the concrete outside the rink as Hidan and Deidara cling to one another, mostly unmoving.

“If we ever actually make if off the ice,” Deidara says, grumbling, Hidan chuckling at their predicament, unable to make it a few strides without sliding.

-

Kakuzu heard footsteps outside crunching over the days-old snow and realized just how dark it’d gotten already, quickly flipping on the porch and kitchen lights, having been cooking and baking just by the inner light of the oven and the delicate decorations strung around the ceiling skirting. He takes stock of what he’s made and piles the used bowls into the sink, content to leave them until later, before sitting down at the kitchen table, humming in relief as he finally gives his shoulders and lower back a break.

“What, does bread not rise with the lights on?” Hidan jokes upon entering, finally getting the door unstuck, a comment, accompanied by Kakuzu’s (and Deidara’s) subtle eyeroll, gone somewhat ignored in favor of Fū’s firm enthusiasm, as if utterly untouched by the fatigue of the day.

“Papa, I brought you a snack! I know you said not to eat close to suppertime but you always cook for us before you eat so you must be hungry,” she says, encouraging him to have a little bite, to take a sip while it’s still warm. She insists like an old grandmother would and Kakuzu can’t help but smile, despite his neutrality on sweets, at both her caring nature and the resemblance to his own attitude, at least in proximity to the elderly.

“How’d your day go?” Hidan asks, pulling up a chair at the table while Deidara helps Fū out of her jacket and boots, letting her lead him by the hand into the other room, he just as eager to see her drawings as she is to show them off.

“Made liver pâté with mushrooms, onions, and bacon—fresh bread for it too—chicken marsala with the rest of the mushrooms as I thought you could use the carbs from the pasta after all that skating,” to which Hidan almost laughs aloud, considering he and Deidara together did about as much successful skating as Kakuzu did today, having been entirely absent.

“Some rum tile cookies but they’re still in…” he continues, rubbing the bridge of his nose and suppressing a yawn.

“But how do you feel?” Hidan asks, wanting to share in the recounting of today’s events for sure but more immediately concerned with his partner’s wellbeing within it.

“Fine. Tired. Took more on than I thought I did but I’ll be fine after a rest. Was thinking of making gingerbread too so we could—"

“Oh, I wanna make gingerbread houses! Daddy says I’m big enough to hold the hammer now!” Fū pipes up from the living room, settled neatly into Deidara’s side on the couch, the two scribbling out a game of Pictionary.

Kakuzu snorts at this, despite his lingering hesitation to give their child (their unreasonably strong and fiery child) a hammer, because not only is the point of gingerbread houses, foremost even to the consuming, the building process, Deidara put this ridiculous idea into her head that part of the fun was to destroy the finished product as aggressively as possible—something immediately solidified in their household as tradition.

“Okay,” he concedes, remaining unable to keep himself from chuckling at her outburst, “you and Uncle Dei can make a big one to smash tomorrow because it’s already late, even for Papa. But you let Uncle Dei help you hold the hammer—and tightly so you don’t get hurt. Don’t put your fingers near the flat part and make sure not to hit your head swinging it back.”

Deidara agrees to the conditions as enthusiastically as Fū does, as if similarly warned against injury, as if similarly given the go-ahead to play, and wraps her in a tight hug before being led over to her drawing table, ready to help draft designs for the most-involved gingerbread house yet.

“You must be in a better mood than I thought to give her clearance for the hammer,” Hidan jokes, taking a swig of mulled wine, just warmed, before offering the same glass to Kakuzu who takes an even larger gulp, lips laid over the afterimage of Hidan’s.

“Oh please, she begs for it year-round. I don’t even think she made any holiday wishes—just completely distracted by the prospect of wielding a weapon.”

Hidan snorts, wine threatening to burn the edges of his nostrils, and wraps an arm fondly around Kakuzu’s shoulders, taking a moment to shut his eyes, to rest his head in the crook of his partner’s neck, to feel him skin on skin at the rare section unobscured by thick, knit fabric, their cheeks overly hot from the fast transition from chill to warmth, from the overwhelming heat of the oven, high in demand tonight.

“I’ll take those cookies out and then we can start on the gingerbread. Just tell me what to do and I’ll handle it even better than I handled skating today.”

“Why, what happened at skating?” Kakuzu asks dryly, once again settling into his personal spot at the kitchen table, wood creaking comfortably, being well-used. Hidan flashes him a goofy smile, twinged with good-humored embarrassment, and lifts the side seam of his shirt while simultaneously tugging the waistband of his pants down, revealing a sizeable bruise extending from his hip to his ass.

“Safe to say Fū’s the only one making the Olympic team this year,” he says, fixing his clothes, and this time it’s Kakuzu’s turn to feel the wine prickle at his sinuses, it threatening to come out of his nose.

[justanothersimsblog]

For Ibis

Character Development Questions #10

Is your character generally the first to make a move if they have a crush on someone, or do they wait for the other person to act first?

He'll make a move even without having a crush 😂 Ok fine, he'd have the crush. Still. The answer is yes.

Describe your character’s sexual orientation.  Have they ever questioned this identity, whatever it may be?  Is it a big part of their life, or something they don’t ever really think about?

He's straight and unless pointedly asked, he wouldn't think about it.

Does your character have any scars?  If so, where are they located, and where did they come from?

He doesn't, at least not permanent ones, but wouldn't it be cool to add them?

How well does your character control their emotions?  Do they have a lot of breakdowns or do they generally hold it together pretty well?

He's only bad with painful emotions. Not pain itself, more like the nightmares he doesn't really bother to share.

How does your character feel about children? Do they have any children of their own, much younger siblings, or other kids that they are close to?  If they don’t have kids, do they want to ever have any?

He always said he wasn't going to have kids, but here we are.

He's good with kids. He was assigned a 'little buddy' during high school as part of his Home Ec class, and they actually had fun.

What would your character’s ideal birthday/holiday/etc. present be?  Do they get shy when receiving gifts in front of people, or do they like it?

A lap dance? Or something else along that line. If it is that then it really should be given in private, though he wouldn't object to bystanders as long as they're not family. Besides those well, he'd accept any gift, he'd just be happy to be thought of.

Can your character ride a horse (or camel, donkey, or any other comparable animal)? If so, is it something they do often? Is it a hobby or a necessary means of transportation for them?

He's never tried but he thinks he can.

Does your character spend a lot of time on grooming, like shaving, makeup, hairstyling, etc.? Why or why not?

He spends as little time as he can while still achieving his desire look. Right now he uses magic to do it instantly but before he'd have to manually wrestle with his hair to get it looking like he wants.

What’s the most valuable/expensive single item your character has ever owned?  Where did they get it?  Does it have any meaning to them beyond the monetary value?

Probably the hospital. He's a part owner along with his father and grandmother. She invested after achieving some success in her career and it evolved into ownership. All assets get the new heirs added when they're born/or officially when they turn of age. So yeah, I think the hospital is the most valuable building they own.

Who are the three people closest to your character? Are they friends? Family? 

Family: his other quads. Glad you asked for 3.

Just for Fun: Is your character the kind of person who takes (or would take) a lot of selfies? What about pictures of their friends?

YES. He definitely takes a fair share of selfies and pics with friends and everyone.

[the-heaminator]

Chapter 15 of the murder fic

They didn't let Francis return home that night, they had too many things to discuss, and he was a little too, how should I put this, rabid, liable to bite if he wasn't beaten enough?

He was certainly not in a good place by any stretch of the imagination, which to be fair was what they wanted, but he hadn't got close enough to the brink of insanity to be considered safe in their odd little way, and certainly seemed simply too disturbingly human and fallible for them to simply let him go, and they did actually have things to discuss.

He was frogmarched through the woods, to stop him running away, though with his unstable he seemed as he walked, stumbling and tripping over roots and whatnot, even if he did try in earnest, he wouldn't have gotten very far, and he seemed too downright scared to even try, he was almost limp in Ivan's grip while Arthur led the way through the dark and gloom back into town, they all looked a little scruffy, Francis looked utterly dishevelled, there was mud on his clothes and face, his eyes were darting around like a caged beast, but with the two others flanking him now, less attention came his way, the other two started to rather pleasantly discuss utterly horrifying things, rapid pace and quick-fire, and if one wasn't listening too hard, which no one would be at this time, it was mostly tipsy students on the streets at this time, celebrating the end of term before many of them had to go home for the holidays, pity the students who either elected not to go home or had no place to go.

Just out of town, they told, rather drilled it into Francis, that he needed to collect himself, stop crying, look like he simply fell down or something of the sort, his eyes were red and puffy, hair a matted scraggly mess, but he had stopped crying, somehow, Francis did not know how he managed it, fear probably, he felt cold, too cold, yes it was near midwinter, but this felt different, not the nibbling on his skin that came with the wind, or the clear-headedness that such a stiff breeze causes, he felt full of wool, like a marionette conducted by strings somewhere above him that he could not see and have no control over, full of wet wool, heavy and cold, he wanted nothing more than to just curl up and die

He could barely register his limbs as his own, stumbling where the two led him, once again dimly wondering whether they would just kill him, this was discarded after he thought about it for a while, that would be too merciful of them, it seemed unlike them, and apparently, they had use for him yet, they wouldn't kill him, maybe they would torture him too, to keep his mouth shut maybe, he couldn't think straight and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to, somewhat he wished he would just die at their hands.

He was led to their house, he did know that they lived together, all the faculty did and so did most of the students, things spread like wildfire, rumour is halfway across town before the truth had a chance to get its boots on, but sometimes rumour is more reminiscent of truth than you might think, just without all the details; they were almost married in all but name, but even as he knew, it seemed odd to see their shared residence.

Maybe today's theme was just odd.

An understatement most definitely, but it wasn't wrong either.

The house looked old, not run down but certainly not in the best condition, a tad creaky, they must've gotten it cheap and fixed it up slightly, considering that it was in a rather sketchy part of town, not the place you would expect two professors to live, definitely not ones of such coveted subjects, and Francis mildly wondered whether they'd brought the house together financially, was that how houses work, joined ownership was it called? Shared ownership?

Ivan opened the door, unlocking the door with some difficulty, he had to barge into it just a little to loosen it enough to open.

Francis really was in too deep, like a spider after mating, he had already gotten in too deep, but now he most definitely knew it, the doorway yawned over him in all its creaky glory, and he was swallowed within, he had to tread carefully lest he ends up in the mouth of the others.

*

The last day of term was normally a joyous occasion, people could go home, of course there was always the crushing fear of exams and failure, but if drowned in enough alcohol and ignored for long enough, it seemed to go away, or if it was replaced with other more pressing problems, and Julchen had all three on her roster, too much alcohol in her system, the loud noise of the bar somewhat distracted her from her academic worries, though these, of course, were less of contributors than the continued disappearance of Ludwig, it had been a couple of weeks now, and she had filed a report with the police, they seemed to not be particularly interested, and there was only so much she and Feliciano could do.

He had been a help, and a wonder, though again she still had no idea why he was doing it, she knew Ludwig had mentioned him in passing, but never often enough or with enough fondness or any emotion really behind it to really constitute a type of attachment or bond, but now she couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, she was too tired to do that. He had gone off to flirt with someone or the other after he had a few drinks, he had invited her out after a particularly stressful night of poring over given information, suspicions, schoolwork and what not, it ended in her banishing Feliciano, not for any mistake of his own, she had started to sob quietly and did not want anyone to see her in that state after he tried to comfort her.

She felt bad that after all that, the next day he brought her out for celebratory drinks, there really didn't seem like there was anything to celebrate, he looked a mess that day too, but now he seemed absolutely fine, that man had a way of changing his moods with such speed and precision that it was a little scary, but now that she was pleasantly buzzed, she felt a little nicer about everything, she wasn't drunk per se but certainly wasn't all that sober, she didn't want to talk much and was content just sitting there.

It was kind of nice, loud and chaotic as it was, it felt oddly comforting, she normally didn't like bars and pubs and the like, she was usually only there for business purposes anyways, but coming here right now was probably the best ting for her sorry state, she needed no more time with her thoughts for a good while, she wanted them to shut up so very much, and the bar lent itself well to this.

She didn't expect anyone to sit next to her, and she expected less to actually recognise them.

"Tolys? Feliks?"

"The very same."

"Yep, that is I!"

Feliks span on the creaky barstool he was perched upon, clearly quite a bit drunk, and Tolys, his ever-suffering..friend?..at this moment Julchen couldn't remember if they were dating or not, the last time they talked they seemed to be, but that felt like it was so so very long ago, they'd drifted a bit after second year, and more every subsequent year, but they did talk sometimes, and right now, she didn't know why exactly, she wanted as many people as she could have around her.

What was I saying?

Ah yes, Tolys cuffed him round the head a little and kissed him on the nose, he was also clearly quite tipsy if he was doing such displays of affection in public, and they probably were still dating if this was anything to go by.

"So what's up with you?"

She remembered after a while that Feliks was doing art history and Tolys was doing medicine, they really seemed the opposite of each other sometimes, but then again they were also oddly similar, she was rarely this fond of people, it must've been the alcohol, there was no better way to explain it, and after a rather prolonged pause in which she hastily sought through her wretched mind for a good answer, she gave up and just said "Nothing much."

Feliks looked around, a bit like an owl, he had always been an odd kid, but the three were almost stuck at the hip until they got to high school, and even then they stayed close for far longer than most people can say early friendships lasted, they drifted yes, but not enough to become strangers to one another again, and when tipsy this shined clearer and he said "Where's Luddy?"

Julchen froze for a second, she felt terrible that she had forgotten about him, too wrapped up in her own silly little pleasures for once, and weighed her options she could lie, but she didn't have the energy for that, but if she just blurted it out it would completely ruin the entire atmosphere, so she moved her hand in an odd motion and said, almost defeated.

"Dunno, I dunno where he is anymore."

She took a big gulp of her drink to placate herself and her thoughts, the two looked at her oddly, and she noted their eyes two pairs of varying different shades of green, one like the forest and one like an emerald, the forest ones tilted with concern and Tolys spoke "What do you mean by that Julchen?" he sounded genuinely confused for a moment before seemingly coming to his senses as he sipped his drink causing him to give out a hacking cough "Wait, wait, shit is he missing!"

He certainly caught on much faster than she thought he would, but then again, he was almost like an older brother to Ludwig when they were younger, he would certainly, or at least was quite likely to still have a protective streak over him, and all Julchen could do was look into her drink and force herself not to cry, the night had been going so well, too well for the likes of her, clearly she seemed like she didn't deserve joy while Tolys panicked for a moment, roped Feliks in, who was not exactly the most lucid right about now, so that angle was dropped for now.

She was interrogated, though with good intentions by Tolys, and all the details she told him you already know, so I shall not bore you with them, he looked utterly distraught, he wasn't ready for that, no wonder Julchen seemed off.

She was about to get another drink when she was stopped by Feliciano, who had seemed to melt out from the crowd from absolutely nowhere, Tolys stood up, albeit shakily and threatened him, thinking he was some sleazeball who wanted to do unmentionable things to her, he was aware of her part way profession, so the threat was very real.

She was done right now, with pretty much everything and anything, and grabbed both of them, Tolys grabbed Feliks who really did seem to be on a different planet and stalked outside, she had good tolerance and hadn't had all that much to drink, at least compared to Tolys and Feliks, she wasn't sure whether Feliciano was sober or not, but he seemed attentive enough to at least corroborate her story if nothing else, and thus began the explanation.

But I shall not bore you with that, not yet at least, how about we move the scene a tad somewhere else? It's getting a bit boring here and there are quicker things to go onto, and I do sincerely apologize for jumping about so much, I don't usually do this.

*

Francis had been ordered to clean up a bit, something about him smelling like a barn, he couldn't remember, but he did end up in their shower not long after he had gotten into their house, home? The difference was arbitrary at best but it was a welcome distraction to his mind, it still felt like wet cotton, but now there were lice all infested within it, crawling and sticking to the cloth of his mind, itching incessantly, half-baked thoughts roaming free, not living long enough to ever come to a conclusion, but leaving dozens more in its wake, jumbled and bustling yet sodden and heavy.

Oddness was the energy of today, perhaps the feeling of oxymoron, was there an adjective for that? Oxymoronic? Francis supposed that his mind was playing tricks on him, trying to rationalize, he had asked them for help, he knew it would come at a price, and it wasn't all that bad, but these trivial thoughts were a comforting, really distracting blanket, albeit a thin one, over the tumult of nonsense that was his mind, like a scratchy but well-worn blanket during an illness, and his mind supplied what illness specifically, something horrific and incurable, spreading without want or reason, spreading to the mind, like rabies!

Though well that could easily be treated with antibiotics if he was under a threshold, he could be safe, rather he could've been safe, he had gone above that threshold, rabies, insanity, odd comparisons, but they all did have thresholds, as did pain, people have thresholds for a lot of things, sanity is a threshold isn't it, what was sanity, what is the difference between sanity and insanity, effectively an in at the beginning of the word changing the whole meaning, insanity was relative too, everything was relative everything was a spectrum, why didn't anything make sense, why was he here, he needed to leave, he needed to L E A V E.

His mind went blank as he swallowed, he had not a clue why, and wasn't sure whether he liked it or not, but right now he was just too tired to care, far too tired, he just needed to get washed up and leave, or do whatever the two told him to do, safest option right now, both for his shreds of sanity and his physical well being, he saw what Arthur could do, and if his fuzzy deductions were correct, the one on the far side, not Matthew the other one, the one with his head lolling, was Ivan's doing, he had no idea what was going on over there but that was somehow scarier than the blood and gore of the other two.

As he was...ah... going through it, as they say, Arthur and Ivan were in as close to marital bliss as two unmarried men could get to, believe me, it is close enough for you to really not know the difference, the only difference was that they were not in holy matrimony in the eyes of the lord, but at this point, it was scarcely possible to get into his good favours anymore, so they frankly could not care less.

The height difference was always fun, Ivan was tall but felt somewhat smaller than his height would suggest, he held himself in a way that made him look perpetually embarrassed of his height, and had an energy about him that was inviting, the type grandmothers would coddle over even at his age, and even with him towering over them, it was a natural ability, he had always been like this, and this was one of the better defences, when students said he looked like he ate children, it was meant entirely in jest, he was generally well loved by his students, and Arthur, both of which mattered equally to him, though technically his students were a large body and Arthur was only one, but hush with the semantics would you.

Arthur was about a good foot shorter than Ivan but seemed larger when in a room, if only because his presence was just somehow larger, like a swan almost, they seem larger than they are, and feel untouchable, beautiful with the opportunity to be deadly, but directly compared to Ivan, he looked tiny, and when with him Arthur felt not the need to pretend to be large, he liked being enveloped within Ivan's heart and body, he knew it was a foolish move, he was meant to be somewhat above most people, or at least he liked to think of himself as such, but the human heart was notoriously fallible, no matter what one did, and truly Arthur thought himself lucky.

He could have ended up with a whole lot worse of a man than Ivan, and currently as Arthur was stubbornly trying to force the lid of a tupperware container open without breaking the brittle box, the last of their meat, it just seemed fitting to give Francis a taste of what would be to come wasn't it, Ivan's cooking was always wonderful, and after a while in the freezer it had gotten a bit chewy, that was what usually happened at least, but something was better than nothing.

He failed and had to get Ivan to do it, though not without struggle, Arthur could open the box, but it would just break in the process, you would naturally think that Ivan was the one that relied more on brute strength, but it was more often Arthur, mainly because he had less of it to give, Ivan had constantly always been too strong for his own good and learnt to reign it in at an early age.

This means he could open the box without it breaking, something Arthur could scarcely be able to do, Arthur grumbled a bit, but as Ivan was standing right behind him he couldn't help but kiss the top of his grumpy little head, he loved this man more than he thought possible, honestly they would be terrible for anyone else other than each other, that was some of the beauty in them, it would quite literally be murder for anyone else.

He had never gotten used to how direct Arthur could be at times, he was generally more used to the reserved Arthur, or the sleepy cuddly type which he loved the most, the fiery passion that came over him sometimes was always unexpected, but most of the time it was very much welcome, Ivan was still wearing his suit, it was grimy but hell it was the last day of the semester, who cared, and Arthur pulled him around with it, now he was the one with his back against the counter, eyes wide and cheeks aflame.

He looked adorable, and Arthur really couldn't help himself, today had been a good day, and there were only very few instances where he could kiss Ivan without needing to tiptoe and Ivan having to bend down quite a bit, Arthur pressed him over the counter, probably hurt his back but hell it's home, they can do as they please, Arthur crashed his lips onto Ivan's, ok he did have to tiptoe still, but not much, Ivan's eyes, if possible, went wider, but he really wasn't complaining, he pulled Arthur in towards him, an easy task, and they continued until Arthur ran out of breath.

Ivan looked like a kicked puppy because Arthur had to disconnect, to breathe if nothing else, but tried and succeeded to placate Ivan with a lick on the lips, a little unsanitary but whatever, kissing was proven to be one of the worst methods of pathogen transportation, and for a moment they just stayed there, enjoying each others touch, before Ivan had to get up, and cracked his back doing so with an audible and somewhat painful sounding pop, and they finished heating the stew on the hob like nothing had ever happened, it took a while.

Frozen stews and curries were an absolute pain to melt properly, there was always something that stayed frozen or something that felt like the surface of the sun, but it would have to do, Francis would need his first taste, just to know that he could never go back.

Where was he anyways?

He hadn't left the shower but it had been a good 30 minutes he'd been in there, eh he probably needed the time, to clear his mind or something, Arthur knocked the door just in case, to tell him to be out soon.

Oddly domestic this was, at least Arthur and Ivan felt so, Francis was not in a position to have any say anymore, Francis came out not long after, he wasn't all that much taller than Arthur, so his clothes fit.

He never thought he would turn up in their house, bathing in their bathroom, and wearing one of his fellow Professors clothes, it was...odd, the whole situation was odd but right now he was in no state to complain, he could barely form a full sentence, he wanted to sleep.

Ivan and Arthur needed to clean themselves up too, neither took more that 5 minutes, and Francis was always in the sight of one of them, he didnt do anything, he just sat in the sofa, looking a different species of exhausted, it wasn't the exhaustion that came after an adrenaline high, it was similar, that played a part, but there was also the bone-deep tiredness that came with fearful acceptance, he had already gone through the gates of hell, there was no going back, but he hadn't been dehumanised the point that he could enjoy it, not yet at least.

They switched, the room remained in silence save for the quiet bubbling of the stew, Ivan was now out, sitting in his home clothes, he just looked innocent even when he was anything but it, he always did, it felt a little better anyhow, Arthur was just so overbearing like this, he was normally a bit scary but not to the point where just him looking at you did anything, he had heard that students of his did experience this, but he had never before and thought it to be silly, turns out it was not.

In the same way, Ivan was well loved, and often considered to be one of the nicest professors, but now it just seemed off-putting, it was probably a good guise but it worked even as Francis knew exactly what was happening, that cold dark little cabin, hidden away in the forest, no one would find them, he would have to do that too, he would be part of this whether he liked it or not, and no one would belive him if he did blab, and he would likely die from it, as his mind has supplied plenty of times before there was no way out other then obedience, and he was frankly slowly growing to accept it, a frightening thought most certainly, but it would keep him alive.

Yes, they would.

Probably.

His thoughts had just started to collect after what was a good half-week of them being everywhere, unfinished and jittery, scattered again, and his pulse quickened again at these thoughts, he was so tired but with adrenaline flowing through his veins again, his adrenal glands, poor things, working overtime to fulfil the wishes of the hypothalamus, he was still scared, like when a bear was made to dance, still a wild animal, just beaten into submission, people were slightly different, you could use words to break their minds too, ad he was sure Arthur would use this against him, but he was just too tired, even adrenaline can only do so much to one who hasn't slept in a good half week and hasn't eaten in about the same time, whose cried himself silly and experienced pretty much all of the negative emotions humans can feel in a very short period of time.

Arthur was out now too, he looked smaller when not wearing his suit and tie, he looked oddly human too, he went to go check on the stew, to move it about, make sure the meat was defrosting, with this Francis's eyelids drooped and closed, quite against his will, he was sitting as far away from the two as he could on their sofa, Arthur had climbed onto the sofa next to Ivan, partially on him.

They weren't as young as they used to be, and the stress of everything, marking and teaching were stressful things, and even as they both loved their jobs, it did become overwhelming rather easily, and they had two comforts, their toys as well as each other, Ivan fell asleep rather quickly, tired from the day that had just happened.

The house was pleasantly quiet, the stew was on very low heat s it was unlikely to burn or stick to the pot, human tasted nice, and like pork it was tough, and needed to be heated nicely as pork did, they could afford to waste some time here, at least for a little.

Though of course, this couldn't last all that long, the stew was done, Ivan was awoken with some difficulty, he slept like the dead when given the chance, and kept trying to hug Arthur and just go to sleep for the night, a fair move, but something they had to wait just a little longer to do, Ivan was drowsy as Arthur ladled out the stew, he looked younger with his hair all mussed up in home clothes with glasses on crooked.

Francis woke up to the bustling, he was anxious enough in his sleep, he didn't go all that deep into sleep either, hovering about the surface of sleep, and far easier to wake up.

They looked human. Monsters can be human though, don't let your eyes fool you.

The table was set and the stew was served, Ivan had the largest helping as usual, Arthur was oddly hungry too, they gave Francis only a bit to begin with, there was more in the pot, but he seemed hungry so it was likely he would eat more, even though he would probably just vomit it all out later if the anxiety got too strong, some food needed to get into him or it would be bad for all people involved, and it was good to give him a taste.

By the way Francis was eyeing it he did seem to have at least a good inkling about what was in the stew, but with the intent gaze of the other two, one questioning, one commanding, he took a bite, and then another, and another, his hunger got the best of him, and it tasted like pork, but milder, stringy but pleasantly so, and whatever spices were put into it had perfectly leached into it, he could almost forget that this was probably the flesh from some unfortunate student from god knows how long ago, they must only do this irregularly otherwise it would be suspicious, and the meat did have the texture of something frozen for quite a long time.

Ivan asked for more, and bread, which was given to him, and Francis didn't know what to do, he was starving and the food had only made it stronger, but he didn't want to dirty his soul by asking for more. Bit late for that Francis, bit late but alright.

He gave in, too hungry and tired to care, he knew he should've had a more violent reaction, but he was out of relations to give right now, and he ate in silence, the other two discussed things not of importance to mention here, but were somewhat distracting for Francis' mind, he could barely understand any of it, it didn't sound like words but they probably were, he was just too out of it to notice, or care, just the buzzing of syllables in his ears allowed him to ignore his mind, at least for the time being.

They stayed on the table for the best part of an hour, before Arthur called out to Francis, it took a while for him to realise they were calling out his name, his auditory processing had seemingly stopped working for a while, a completely normal occurrence during a panic attack, but he wasn't panicking, at least he probably wasn't, not to his knowledge, and when he looked at Arthur with completely blank eyes, his eyes were normally so pretty, even Ivan would say so, but now they looked broken, just scared even as Francis didn't realise, Arthur felt a list of things that normally aren't ones to coincide, especially not in him.

Pity, anger, guilt, and a couple others Arthur couldn't name swirled about, he wasn't meant to be like this, this wasn't well planned out, this wasn't even planned out, it had really just been a pipe dream for the longest time to get him to join, and now that he did, neither could understand why he was being so difficult, what was the problem in sacrificing your humanity for pleasure, it just made sense to them, but he looked just broken, and not the type that could be easily harnessed either, shattered rather than broken, with broken you could glue it back together with words and coaxes to slowly change it, with shattered that was far more difficult, some pieces would be lost, but it could still be salvaged, yes, but not right now, he needed sleep.

They would discuss this amongst themselves, if Francis wanted to get involved he could, but he didn't seem to be in the best place right now "Francis, would you like to sleep?"

He took a while to process before he shook his head and slowly said, lowly and a little cracked, nothing like the smooth suave voice they were used to hearing from him "N-no, not when I am the topic of discussion. What is it that you would like to say?"

The two looked at each other, emerald meeting amethyst, and the latter said "As you have been...indicted as it was, you have to get your own toy, we will help you of course, but none of us would be willing to share, and besides, it is necessary to know how to catch one."

It kind of sounded like catching a fish if the way Ivan was explaining it was to be believed, he wanted none of it, he wanted to go home, sleep for the entire winter break, maybe this was all just a bad dream or something, he didn't want to ruin some innocent life, it was unlikely that he would eat the body, it tasted nice apparently, but he was probably not to eat it, and that was certainly a lot of meat to have stored away.

"Do you have anybody in mind?"

He had not, and he said as such "No..?"

Ivan clucked his tongue "Have you information on any of them, ones with bad family histories, quiet or ignorable ones, disliked ones, knowing you that is very likely."

Francis could scarcely access his own thoughts to a functional level, let alone access his mental records about others, and he just stared at Ivan blankly, who grimaced, an odd expression on such a soft face and he said to Arthur, not even trying to hide it "I don't think he is with us yet."

Francis had a small spark of recognition in his eyes, but it faded quickly and said "C-can we discuss this later." he made an odd sound, kind of like a groan, went pale, got up, and puked into the toilet, all the food he had just eaten gone down the toilet, they had expected it, but it was a bit insulting for it to happen, especially to Ivan, but he forced himself to at least try to sympathise with his plight, they waited for him, he slumped over the toilet bowl and started to cry again.

Ugly tears of fear and whatnot streamed down his face, he curled up into himself, how had he just eaten that so eagerly, what was he even now, he was subhuman now, he barely registered being lifted up on one side by Arthur and the other by Ivan until they carried him into the bright living room and set him down on the sofa, put a blanket on him, and left the room, making sure everything was locked to stop him escaping.

They were confusing, scary, comforting and everything in between all at once and none at the same time, he couldn't dwell on this too long as he fell back into an uncomfortable, fitful, but deep sleep, the other two did the same, they were tired as well, and Ivan's back was not going to take anymore any time soon if he kept abusing it like so, the sound he made when he laid flat on his side of the bed was almost erotic, he slept quickly, and with Arthur buried in his chest, being held close with his arms, it was good, life was good sometimes, though as usual, Arthur squirmed a bit to be comfortable before falling into a deathlike sleep, they would have to catch up on a whole hell of a lot of marking during the break on days when they would be able to, at least they would be able to distress by way of their toys, and teaching Francis how to use and abuse them.

But for now they slept, some wept in an apartment not too far away, mourning a lost brother, no one mourned Alfred and Matthew, they were to stay for the break anyways, and they rarely called.

No one there to mourn or miss them, I'd say that's a bit worse, they wouldn't be missed until they were long, long beyond saving, probably gone, at least Ludwig had people to mourn, even if they were all a bit drunk right now, I shall go on about them in a bit, just you wait, for now I bid you adieu, though I hope not for long.

[propbnk]

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[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 3: Getting Past the Hurt

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

After you both finished dinner, Chuck efficiently came to collect your plates. You then turned to Jake, "Did you want to continue the tour of the house? We can take a look outside tomorrow."

His eyebrows raised in interest, and he responded with enthusiasm, "I'd love to." Jake's expression conveyed a genuine curiosity and eagerness to learn more about the life and home you had built during your time apart.

You led Jake through the rest of the house, showing him the various rooms and features that made it unique. Each space told a story of the time and care you had invested in creating a home that was not just functional, but also a reflection of your personality and dreams.

Jake listened attentively, his admiration for your work evident in his eyes. He was visibly moved by the effort and love you had poured into every corner of the house. "This is amazing, Y/N. I can't believe you did all this," he said, his voice filled with a mix of awe and regret.

"I had a lot of time and a need to keep busy," you replied softly, feeling a mix of pride and nostalgia.

"So, Chuck. Where does he…?" Jake began, his question trailing off, but the curiosity in his eyes was evident.

You grinned, having anticipated this line of inquiry. "I was waiting for that question. Chuck sleeps in the bunkhouse," you explained, clarifying Chuck's living arrangements and how they fit into the broader layout of your property.

As you paused at the foot of the stairs, Jake's curiosity about the house continued.

"So, what's upstairs?" he inquired.

"There are three more bedrooms and two bathrooms," you replied, detailing the upper level's layout.

"We need that much space?" Jake seemed surprised.

"It gets pretty hectic during the holidays. It's more for the adults. The kids have bunk rooms downstairs next to the entertainment room. Your niece and nephew love it down there," you explained, highlighting how the house accommodated family gatherings.

At the mention of his niece and nephew, Jake's face lit up with a grin. "I bet," he said, his tone reflecting both amusement and a newfound appreciation for the thought you'd put into making the house a welcoming place for everyone in the family.

"And the master bedroom?" Jake's interest seemed piqued as he inquired about another key part of the house.

You smiled, a hint of pride in your voice. "It's this way." Leading him through the foyer, you headed towards the master bedroom, ready to show him the space that held a special significance in your shared home.

As the door to the master bedroom swung open, Jake's reaction was immediate and unmistakable. His eyes widened in amazement. "Y/N, this is gorgeous!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine admiration as he took in the rustic decor of the room.

The bed was adorned with tan and rust orange colors, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. In the corner of the room, a fireplace added a cozy touch, promising warmth and comfort on colder nights. The window featured an inviting window seat, perfect for quiet moments of reflection or enjoying the view outside. The room was a harmonious blend of comfort, style, and warmth, reflecting the careful thought and effort you had put into making it a special place in your home.

You gestured towards a door on the side of the bed, guiding Jake's attention. "That door leads to the office, and that one," you pointed to another, "leads to the master bath. You should check out the office, though."

As Jake stepped into the office, his reaction was one of awe, his eyes widening further with each detail he took in. You followed him, observing his response to the space you had thoughtfully arranged.

The office maintained the rustic theme prevalent throughout the house. A long desk dominated the room, equipped with two computers, suggesting a space designed for both individual and shared work. Behind the desk, bookshelves and file cabinets promised organization and easy access to important documents or literature.

On your side of the desk, you had placed photographs that captured the early moments of your relationship with Jake—memories of when you both first met, each image a testament to the journey you had embarked on together.

Conversely, Jake's side of the desk was a homage to his career and achievements. There were photographs of him from significant milestones: his graduation from the Naval Academy, in the cockpit of his F-18, wearing his dress whites, and in his flight uniform. These images were accompanied by his ribbons and decorations, each a symbol of his dedication and service.

However, amidst the personal memorabilia and symbols of achievement, one item in the office captured Jake's attention above all else—the prominent picture hanging on the wall behind you. It was a large, framed wedding photograph, a moment frozen in time that depicted the two of you on your special day.

In the photograph, you were dressed in a stunning floral white lace country wedding dress, the intricate ribbon crisscrossing at the back adding a touch of elegance and uniqueness to your attire. Your gaze was fixed adoringly into Jake's eyes, reflecting the depth of your love and commitment. Jake, in turn, was clad in his Navy dress whites, the uniform crisp and formal, symbolizing his dedication and pride in his service.

This photograph, prominently displayed, served as a poignant reminder of the love and bond you shared, a testament to the promises made and the journey embarked upon together. It stood out as a centerpiece in the room, drawing the eye and the heart back to the foundation of your shared life and love.

Jake turned and looked at you. "You never stopped loving me."

"No, Jake. I never did," you replied, your voice soft but firm, filled with the weight of emotions and the depth of your commitment. "Despite everything, my love for you never wavered." The sincerity in your words and the look in your eyes conveyed all the unspoken feelings, the challenges overcome, and the enduring nature of your love for him.

Jake's eyes softened, reflecting a mixture of emotions—relief, love, and a hint of sadness for the time lost. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "And I never stopped loving you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with regret and longing. "I just... I got lost along the way. But standing here with you, in this home you've built, I feel like I've found a part of myself I thought was gone."

The room was filled with a palpable sense of vulnerability and honesty as you both stood there, the years of distance and silence folding into a single moment of reconnection. Jake reached out, gently touching your face, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before resting his hand against your cheek. The simple touch spoke volumes, bridging the gap that time and circumstances had created.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment to savor the feeling. When you opened them again, you found Jake watching you with an intensity that made your heart flutter.

The next thing you knew, his mouth was on yours, lovingly sweet and passionate. You slowly brought your arms up and around his neck as the kiss turned deeper, the world around you fading away to nothing but the two of you in that moment.

You felt his hands move up your back, his fingers moving into your hair as he pulled you closer to him. You moaned softly against his lips, the kiss turning more passionate and needy.

The intensity of the moment enveloped you both, drawing you deeper into a connection that had been missed, yearned for, and now fervently reclaimed. His kiss, once familiar yet now imbued with a new sense of discovery, spoke of longing and the silent promises made in the absence of words. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the immediacy of his presence, the warmth of his embrace, and the undeniable certainty that this was where you belonged.

As Jake's hands roamed, reaffirming each curve and line of you as if to memorize the feel of you all over again, you found yourself lost in the sensation. The soft moan that escaped you was a testament to the depth of your feelings, a sound of surrender to the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long.

The kiss slowed, eventually breaking, but you remained in the circle of each other's arms, foreheads resting together as you both caught your breath. The air between you was charged with unspoken words, with the recognition of a love that had weathered storms but emerged stronger.

Jake's eyes locked onto yours, a question in their depths. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time again, recognizing the depth of what you shared and the future that lay ahead. "I've missed this," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Missed us."

"So have I," you replied, your heart swelling with a mixture of joy and relief, but then pain as you remembered why you haven't seen each other in 4 years. "I can't, Jake. I..." your voice trailed off.

Jake's expression shifted, a mix of confusion and concern quickly clouding his features as he felt the sudden change in your demeanor. He gently cupped your face with his hands, urging you to look at him, to share the weight of whatever was holding you back. "What is it?" he asked, his voice soft yet filled with an urgency to understand. "Talk to me."

The room seemed to grow impossibly still, the warmth of the moment before now hanging in the balance as you struggled to find the words. The joy of reconnection was tainted by the shadow of past pain, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you not just in miles, but in missed moments and unspoken grief.

"I... It's just," you started, the floodgates of your emotions creaking open. "When we lost the baby, everything changed. I felt so alone, Jake. And you... you were so far away. I needed you, and you weren't there." The words tumbled out, each one laced with the pain of memories you'd both avoided confronting.

Jake's eyes darkened with pain, a reflection of his own regrets and the sorrow he carried for the absence that had wedged itself between you. "I know," he whispered, his voice breaking with the weight of his own guilt. "I know I wasn't there when you needed me the most. I was lost, too, drowning in my own grief and I—I failed you. I can't change the past, but I'm here now. I want to be here for you, for us, to make things right if you'll let me."

The vulnerability in his plea, the openness of his admission, it struck a chord within you. It was the acknowledgment of pain, the first step towards healing that you both needed. Tears brimmed in your eyes, not just for the sorrow that had been a constant companion in his absence, but for the glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way back to each other.

"But how do we move past this, Jake? How do we rebuild from so much hurt?" The question hung between you, dense with uncertainty yet also the possibility of a future you both longed for.

"I don't know," Jake confessed, his voice carrying a mix of frustration and vulnerability. He threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender, then his gaze found yours, his green eyes swirling with confusion and a plea for understanding. It was a look that conveyed his inner turmoil, a silent admission of his uncertainties and the complexities of the emotions he was grappling with.

The weight of the moment hung between you as you met his gaze, the decision not made lightly. "I think you should sleep in one of the guest bedrooms tonight," you suggested, your voice steady but not without a hint of regret. It was a difficult choice, but one you felt was necessary under the circumstances, giving both of you space to process the whirlwind of emotions and conversations from the day.

Jake's eyes held a flicker of disappointment, quickly masked by understanding as he nodded slowly. "If that's what you think is best," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of sadness but also respect for your needs.

"Thank you, Jake. For understanding. This isn't easy for either of us, but… I think it's the right thing for tonight."

He stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each step carried the weight of the situation. "I'll just grab this one bag, then," he said, pausing as if he wanted to say more but instead opting for a simple, "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Jake," you responded, watching as he walked away, the sound of his footsteps a soft echo in the quiet house.

As soon as he was out of earshot, the strength you had mustered to maintain composure in his presence dissipated, leaving you vulnerable to the flood of emotions you'd been holding back. You sat down on the edge of the bed, a solitary figure in the quiet of the room, and allowed the tears to flow freely.

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[shravangupta100]

Unlock luxury getaways: Should you become a fractional owner of a holiday home?

Fractional ownership of holiday homes in popular destinations like Goa allows individuals to become part owners without the burden of maintenance. Platforms offer affordable shares starting from four to five lakh rupees, making it accessible to various individuals.

[shravanguptaceo]

Unlock luxury getaways: Should you become a fractional owner of a holiday home?

Fractional ownership of holiday homes in popular destinations like Goa allows individuals to become part owners without the burden of maintenance. Platforms offer affordable shares starting from four to five lakh rupees, making it accessible to various individuals.