#this is the curse of having done phone repair for years

[pc-98s]

i am cursed with the ability to identify any iphone (and many samsung phones) on sight so rewatching all of recent doctor who has me now able to tell you exactly what phones the companions have in each episode.

[cosmicanakin]

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 ⟢ | vinnie hacker.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⟣ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. vinnie hacker x female reader.

⟣ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. helping vinnie in the garage, your knowledge, and skills with cars over the years come to surface, unveiling a secret you'd kept hidden.

⟣ 𝐖𝐀��𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). fluff ┆︎ explicit language ┆︎ smut ┆︎ thigh riding ┆︎ fingering ┆︎ breeding kink ┆︎ no use of y/n.

kari's corner ⟢ ݁⋆ while i was scrolling through pinterest, i fell down a rabbit hole of photos of vinnie working on cars.

the soft clanking and muttered curses drifting from the garage pull you away from your mindless scrolling on your phone. you glance at the clock, noticing it's past midnight already. vinnie told you he'd be done working on his car by now but it seems he's hit another snag in repairs.

sighing, you slide off the couch and pad down the hallway. vinnie's bent over the open hood distractedly turning a wrench, smears of grease decorating his gray tank top and forearms in a way that makes your heart flutter. you admire his toned physique for a moment, always loving when he gets hands on.

"any luck, babe?" you ask softly, not wanting to startle him. vinnie jerks up with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. "ah, no not yet. this damn fuel pump is being a real pain in my ass. i've replaced every other part but it just won't prime right."

he kicks the tire in frustration earning a soft chuckle from you. striding over, you stand on your tiptoes to peer into the engine compartment. years spent helping your dad under the hoods of countless vehicles have given you more than a casual understanding.

"mind if i take a look?" you inquire, already sliding some gloves from the table beside you. vinnie gapes at you in disbelief. "i had no idea you knew about cars, babe," disbelief colors his tone but you can also detect a hint of thrill at discovering another layer to you.

"my dad always said it's a good skill for any woman to have. now scoot over, let me see what's going on." vinnie readily obliges, interest overtaking his previous annoyance as you step into his place. running an analytical eye, you soon spot the issue.

"ah, there's your problem. the fuel filter is badly clogged, no wonder it can't draw fuel properly. just needs a replacement, should clear it right up." you declare confidently, removing the filter to examine. vinnie peers over your shoulder in amazement.

"damn baby, you never cease to surprise me. i'm seriously so impressed right now, you've got me feeling all kinds of things." he purrs against your ear, hands sliding around your waist from behind. a shiver runs down your spine at his breath on your skin but you maintain focus, humming thoughtfully.

"flattery will get you everywhere mister, now hand me the socket wrench so i can get this fixed," you demand gently, holding a hand back expectantly. vinnie hurriedly passes you the tool, enthralled by your take-charge demeanor. within minutes the new filter is installed and you're reassembling the compartment.

flicking your gloves away, you turn to face vinnie's adoring gaze with a smile. "alright big man, give her a start, and let's see if that did the trick." he grins, pressing a swift kiss to your lips in thanks before jumping into the driver's seat.

the cars roars to life on the first try, rumbling smoothly without any hiccups. vinnie whoops loudly, leaning out the window with glee. "fuck baby, you're amazing! that was the perfect fix. come here, i gotta give you a proper reward."

giggling, you allow vinnie to tug you into his lap as he's sat in the driver's seat. his mouth latches onto your neck desperately, hands roaming your sides. "i'm so turned on by how smart and skilled you are. drives me crazy knowing you could probably rebuild this engine from scratch if you wanted," he growls between kisses.

heat pools low in your belly at his adoring praise. you slide his hands up under your shirt, craving his touch. "mhm, maybe i will someday just to watch you swoon. but for now..." twisting, you capture vinnie's lips hungrily.

he sighs into the kiss, deepening it instantly as his tongue delves between your parted lips. you rock against his firm thigh. vinnie groans, hands gripping your hips to guide your movements.

"fuck, i need you so bad. let's take this inside, i wanna worship your perfect body properly." he breathes heavily, pupils blown wide with want. you nod eagerly, already scrambling from his lap toward the house. vinnie follows, hastily towing you the rest of the way by your wrist.

as soon as the bedroom door clicks shut he's pinning you against it feverishly. your shirt disappears followed by his as he assaults your collarbone with rough kisses and nips. a gasp escapes your throat, grabbing handfuls of his hair to encourage the delicious treatment.

vinnie hikes your legs around his waist, lifting as if you weigh nothing at all. the hard line of his erection presses relentlessly against your core through the multiple layers still separating you, seeking friction. you grind down needily, desperate for more contact.

"slow down, baby, 'm not going anywhere," he pants, carrying you to the bed and laying you out like a feast. vinnie quickly divests the rest of your clothing, gazing in awe at your naked form beneath him.

"so perfect, and all mine." his worshipping words steal your breath, stomach clenching deliciously. when his mouth latches onto a pert nipple to suckle, you cry out loudly at the exquisite sensation.

vinnie takes his time lavishing each breast and curve of your body with wet kisses and love bites, mapping every sensitive spot until you're writhing and begging for more. finally his fingers dip to your dripping core, circling your swollen clit teasingly.

"fuck vinnie!" you babble, back arching off the mattress at his feather light touches. he chuckles darkly, sinking two digits into your core. "you take my fingers so well baby. bet you'll feel even better wrapped around my cock though, what do you think?"

a choked moan is your only response, eyes rolling back as he pumps his fingers leisurely. vinnie slowly adds a third, stretching your entrance deliciously full. his thumb rolls firm circles over your clit in time, driving you to the edge at an agonizing pace.

just as your orgasm begins to crest, he removes his hand entirely leaving you keening. vinnie stands to remove the last of his clothing, hard length jutting proudly from his slender hips. the sight alone could make you cum but he hasn't given permission yet.

crawling back over you, vinnie slots his cock against your dripping entrance and leans down to claim your mouth in a filthy kiss. "gonna make you feel so good, fuck you senseless until you can't remember your name. that's what you want isn't it?"

you whimper desperately, nodding fervently against his lips. "please, i want to feel you so deep inside me. use me as rough as you like, i'm all yours baby." his restraint snaps, and with one powerful thrust, he's fully seated to the hilt within your clenching heat.

you cry out loudly at the relentless stretch, walls spasming deliciously around his girth. vinnie groans deeply, staying locked in place to adjust before beginning a punishing rhythm of hard, deep strokes. his hips snap violently, balls slapping your swollen flesh with each impact.

all you can do is hold on for dear life, nails raking down his sweat slicked back as he fucks you into oblivion. vinnie pistons his hips with animalistic drives, pounding directly into your most sensitive spots unerringly. a constant litany of filthy praises tumble from his pretty lips, only spurring you nearer the edge.

"fuck you look gorgeous taking my cock sweet girl, your pussy was made for me i swear. gonna fill you up, have your belly swollen with my babies, you want that, baby? want me to come inside you while i fuck my name out of that beautiful mouth?"

the depraved imagery plunges you over at last, walls constricting vinnie's member in a vice grip. your orgasm tears through you with ruthless intensity, eyes rolling back as you scream his name. he chases his own release, fucking you through the aftershocks until spilling deep within your quivering channel with a guttural groan.

collapsing together in a sweaty heap, you trade sloppy kisses and whispered 'i love you's' while coming down from ecstasy. vinnie curls around your sated form protectively, pressing sweet affection into any skin he can reach.

"you never cease to amaze me, sweetheart. i love how full of surprises you are, constantly keeping me on my toes. and damn do i love when you take charge like that, so fucking hot." he sighs contentedly, nuzzling your hair.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (chapter three)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

Word Count: 2.4k

Playlist Song: your place by ashley cooke

Trigger Warning: mention of dying character, cancer

prologue / one / two / three

The drive takes more than an hour and the bile building in my throat burns the closer I get to the hospital. I’ve gotten used to the layout of the visitor’s parking lot, the row after row of cars lining the large lot. I curse, driving too quickly past another spot. 

My hands start to shake and my chest hurts a little from the constricting panic. I slam on the breaks when a car starts to back out, pulling away.  I swing into the spot, breathing out in relief. The walk to the front slider doors of the hospital takes what feels like forever and the receptionist at the front desk takes too long to sign me in. I can feel a new wave of tears rolling through me as I step off the elevator. Mom is there, pacing back and forth on the phone.  

“Mom?” I call out, doubling my speed until I’m running into her arms. 

She tucks her phone in shorts just in time to collect me in her embrace.

“Hi sweets,” she breathes into my hair. There’s a small amount of relief, being curled up in her arms. I bury my face deeper into her neck, a few stray tears sliding down my face. I sniffle loudly, trying to collect myself. 

“What happened?” I ask, looking up at her. 

“You know your father,” she purses her lips, rubbing my arms as she sighs. I’m not sure if she’s trying to comfort me or comfort herself. “Doing too much in the barn, overworking himself. He stumbled into the house and passed out. Doctors said he’s been missing his medication. If the cancer doesn’t kill him, I’ll do it myself,” she huffs. 

“Ma,” I scolded her, shaking my head. I turned to peer into the room, trying to catch my dad’s eye but the doctor stood in the way. He sways a little back and forth as he speaks, only allowing me to see the IV hooked up and the soft beep of the heart monitor. “Don’t say things like that. Dad is going to be fine.” 

When I turn back to her, my mom’s eerily calm. She’s breathing through her nose, her eyes a little cloudy as she watches the doorway. Her thumb taps her pointer finger, then her middle. It’s a distraction, something I’d inherited from her as a way of navigating hard moments. I tilt my head, watching her more closely. “He’s going to be fine, right?”

She’s slow in looking at me, her gaze far away when our eyes connect and my breath hitches in my throat. Jo Harding had stood strong in front of the scariest of storms. She’d stared down an F5, sent it running for the hills and yet, she’d never looked more fearful as she opened her mouth. “Honey,” she starts but footsteps interrupt her sentence. 

“He’s up and talking,” the doctor says, smiling a little at my mom. He shouldn’t be smiling. Why is he smiling? “I’ve sent in his new prescription to the pharmacy and once his IV is done, we’ll be able to get him back home,” he nods at me. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

I don’t wait to hear what mom has to say, rushing into the room to see him. The chemo still hasn’t taken all of his hair, though the line continues to recite backwards a little further each week that I visit. He’s wrapped in a white sheet, stark and crisp against his blue hospital gown. He looks so small in the large bed and yet, somehow so uncomfortable. The crows feet around his eyes have deepened with exhaustion but his warm, bright smile still remains.

“Daddy,” I murmur, sniffling again as I climb gently onto the side of his bed. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he reaches up to touch my cheek, patting it lightly and smoothing the flush with his thumb. 

“What the hell is the matter with you? Mom said you haven’t been taking your meds.” 

“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to share with you,” he says, eyes flickering behind me at mom, leaning up against the doorframe. 

I want to look back at her, give her the chance to tell me it’s not what I think. Anyone who knew parents would know that before me, mom was the emotional one; impulsive, reactive. But after I was born, Bill Harding went soft. His heartstrings were too malleable, easily manipulated. I was daddy’s little girl. I couldn’t look back at my mom for strength, I was too worried that he would slip from my fingertips when I turned back. 

“I don’t,” I start, shaking my head. “I don’t want to know.” 

“Eleanor,” he coos, as if I’m a newborn sobbing through the night. I feel like I am. “The cancer has spread too much.” I don’t hear the rest of what he says. There’s a high pitched ringing that echoes in my eardrum, mixing with “home”, “weeks” and “get comfortable”. After minutes of numbing silence, I nod and wipe my face while grabbing his hand. 

We sit for a while, the three of us chatting and trying to ignore the inevitable. My mind starts to race, making a checklist of to dos in my mind. Trying to figure out how to help my mom pay the hospital bills and manage the farmhouse. Maybe she can move in with me. We’ll need to make arrangements. I need to finish fixing up the RAM before he…well, before. 

As time passes, the nurse shows up to take out his IV and start his discharge paperwork. “You’ll need to pick up your prescription. It’ll help keep you comfortable for the time being,” she repeats as she places a bandaid over the spot of blood from the needle. “We’ve already sent it over.” 

“I’ll pick it up,” I blurt out, rising to my feet. 

“Honey, you should go get some rest,” my mom says, squeezing my hand. “You can’t tell me you got much sleep last night and it’s been a long day.” 

“I don’t mind,” I say, suddenly remembering that Tyler is here. “I could use the distraction.” My mom must notice the change in mood because she frowns, deep lines settling between her brows. 

“Alright, I’ll walk you out,” she nods to the hallway. I thank the nurse and say goodbye to my dad, kissing him on cheek with a promise to see him at home. I follow my mom into the hallway, bumping into her as she slows to a halt. 

“Ma, c’mon,” I say, stepping to her side and looking for what distracted her. Seriously. At the other end of the hallway is Tyler, standing with a sad expression. 

“What in the fuck,” mom says, jaw set tightly as she crosses her arms. She turns to look at me. “What’s he doing here?” 

I close my eyes, trying to slow my breathing. “I didn’t tell him where I was going.”

“Didn’t tell hi-,” she stops herself. “When did he come back? Why didn’t you tell me? Are you two back-,”

This is the last thing I need today. “Ma, he showed up this morning. I will get rid of him, alright? I’m gunna get rid of him.” I kiss her on the cheek. “I love you, I’ll see you at the house.” I turn away so that she doesn’t have a chance to protest or ask more questions, stalking over to Tyler.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I seeth, shoving him lightly backwards toward the elevators. “How did you even know where I was?” 

He lets me move him, eyes trying to catch my mom’s as we move. His bright eyes are wet with worry, laced with concern as he searches my face for answers to his own questions. “Is dad alright? What happened?” 

“Not your father,” I grunt, tugging him finally around the corner. The statement hurts, I can see it all over his face. I know how close he and my dad are but he doesn’t get to show up and just pick up as the son in law he hasn’t been. I’ve had to pick myself up in these moments with no shoulder to cry on. He doesn’t get to just come back and know. 

“Eleanor, I know you are angry but if he’s hurt, I want to help,” Tyler says.

“It’s not your place.” I push the button for the elevator, holding tightly to his wrist in fear that he’ll speed back down the hallway. Right into the belly of the beast that is Jo Harding. As much as I hated him for disappearing, I wasn’t that cruel. “You made it clear you didn’t want this family anymore.” 

The elevator dings. I step forward into the small space, trying to drag the man with me. Tyler doesn’t move easily behind me and when I turn to look at him, there’s a sour look on his face. “C’mon, I don’t want to miss the pharmacy hours,” I say. My fingers clutch his wrist tighter, pulling with all might until I can unglue his feet from the linoleum tile. 

He’s quiet in the elevator and past the receptionist desk. I peel the stupid name tag from my top when we get outside in the fresh air, heading in the direction of my truck. I don’t expect the footsteps to follow me and leave them be until I’m a car or two away. I turn on him, hands on my hips. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“No you are not.”

“Yes I am,” he responds with such a stubborn matter of fact tone that I want to slap him. He walks past me, swiping the keys from my grasp and heading for the truck. “You know I can get you to the pharmacy in under thirty minutes.” I think back to the times that we would need to make a trip over the years, the times that I would let him drive so we’d make it to the drive thru before closing for a milkshake and a burger. Racing against the clock with the windows down and the radio cranked down. I could still see the crinkles around his eyes from his smile under the overhead lighting to look for his wallet. 

“What about your car?” I follow him to the truck. 

“I got dropped off,” Tyler says, tugging the driver’s side open. He slides across the bench to unlock the passenger side and my stomach turns at the mundane simplicity of the action. I don’t have a choice but to comply though. I check my watch and realize the time, jumping into the passenger side.

It’s silent as Tyler wraps an arm around my headrest, backing out of the parking lot and heading down the road toward the family owned pharmacy near my parents’ house. It’s gotten dark outside and my headlights are too bright against the pavement. It hurts my head. Today hurts my head. I rub a palm over my face, trying to scrub the exhaustion and emotion away.

“You wanna talk about it?” Tyler’s voice is soft in the darkness of the cab. 

My only response is another hefty sigh. 

“C’mon El,” he tries again.

I stare out into the darkness, trying to see the grains of wheat along the fields instead of conversing. “I don’t want to talk to you.” 

“Well, how about if you just talk at me? You’ve always enjoyed that,” he says, his tone too playful for my liking.

“Do you feel like that helps? Cracking a joke, making a jab at me?” I snap, turning to look at him. He glances over at me for a few moments, lips pursed. 

“I’m sorry alright? I don’t really know how to behave and I’m trying to ease the tension.”

“Do you feel like the tension is at ease?” I ask, looking forward with my jaw clenched. 

There’s a few more moments of silence before he says “Not at all.” His accent is thick, the twang of Arkansas slipping through. I look over at him and he licks his lips, grasp on the steering wheel flexing a little as he rolls to a stop on the empty road. I don’t know why, don't really know what it is that makes me react but I suddenly let out a giggle. It’s accompanied by a snort,  a short, loud snort that catches his attention. His foot slips on the break as he turns to look at me. The motion causes us to jerk, our necks snapped forward in an instant. And the motion just makes me laugh more, tears streaming down my cheeks. 

“Are you alright?” He’s staring at me wide eyed, like a deer caught in headlights afraid to make a move.

“This is just so absurd, this whole day, just an absurd nightmare.” I get out through wheezes of teary laughter. I take a few gulps of air to calm myself and wipe away the stray tears. I turn to look at him, my chest feeling a little tight. “It’s leukemia, stage four. The doctors have recommended he come home so that he’s comfortable.” 

Under the overhead street lamp lighting that washes on the hood of the truck, I see Tyler’s face fall. His hand pushes the shifting gear into the park position, the sound rings in my ears. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He looks forward at the road then back at me. I can see the gears turning in his head, the cogs trying to continue their processing. I’m expecting a lot of questions about what type, how long he’s been sick, how long they give him, what medication they’ve prescribed. I even anticipated  I should’ve been here.

“So what’s our next step?” 

I blink a few times. I must've misheard him. “Huh?”

“What’s the plan? What do we do next? I can make some calls to St. Francis and see if we can get an appointment-,” he continues on, rattling off some ideas of second opinions and alternative medicine to heal my dad. 

My fingertips start to go numb and I have to squeeze them tightly to try to gain feeling back. “Tyler, Tyler,” I say a little loudly, getting his attention. “There’s nothing to be done. It’s too far gone. He’s already done rounds of chemo.”

His gaze is a mix of harsh confusion and disbelief, piercing as he looks me over. “Rounds? How long has he been sick?” 

“He was diagnosed last Spring,” I say, looking down at my watch. “Can we get moving? The pharmacy closes in twenty minutes, I don’t want him going without.” I can tell he wants to argue, set us into another round of banter and harsh remarks. I’m grateful that he decides against it, instead pushing the truck back into drive and speeding a little faster into town toward the pharmacy.

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[callsign-dexter]

My Daughter, My Heart Pt. 1

Summary: Jake gets his papers and instead of talking it out with his long-term girlfriend he does something that is beyond repairable.

Pairings: Jake Seresin x Ex-Girlfriend (OC: Elizabeth Taylor), Jake Seresin x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, heartbreak

Masterlist

My Daughter, My Heart

Prolog Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The alarm on Jake's phone is what woke him up. He was quick to wake up and turn it off and when he did so he looked over at his girlfriend of 5 years and smiled at her sleeping form. He loved her he really did but the thought of him getting deployed and him having to break her heart when he didn't come back broke him even though he didn't let anyone see it. Breaking out of his thoughts he slowly got up and looked at the time and the clock read 5:30 AM he sighed and got up and started getting ready for the day.

Once a shower was done and everything to do in the bathroom was done he was heading to the kitchen. Jake started the coffee to get it going for both him and Elizabeth as the coffee was going he went outside to the mailbox. Most of the time he would get in a morning run but decided against it he could do it after work. As he was walking down the driveway their neighbor Mrs. Allen was out walking her dog. "Hi, Jake!" She said excitedly and Jake smiled.

"Hello, Mrs. Allen. Early start of your day I see." He said as he was opening the mailbox and grabbing the mail.

"Yes! I'm going to be out for most of the day and need to get the energy going." She said and he smiled and nodded. Jake was dressed in his Navy ABUs. He would get changed into his flight suit once he got there.

"I understand that. Well, it's been nice talking to you!" Jake said as he waved to her with the mail in his hand.

"You too, Jake! I'll see you around." She said and he smiled and nodded and headed up the house. When he got in there he heard the shower running and he smiled because that meant that Elizabeth was up and getting ready for the day.

As Jake was looking through the mail he found nothing too exciting than one piece stuck out to him it was labeled with the Navy's official stamp and his name sprawled across it. He put down the rest of the mail and opened that piece. They were sending him on a 1-year long deployment and his heart dropped to his stomach when he saw that they were sending him Saturday night, tomorrow night. He truly did love deployments but that also meant a chance of him not coming home. When he heard the patter of feet coming down the stairs he quickly put the letter away with his work stuff and smiled when Elizabeth came into the room. "Good morning." She said with a smile and he smiled back.

"Good morning." He replied and kissed her as she walked up to him. He handed her coffee and she began going through the mail. Seeing nothing interesting or immediate attention she pushed it to the side. "I'm gonna be late tonight." Jake said to her and she nodded.

"That's ok. I'm gonna have to stay late to finish up some grading and paperwork." Elizabeth said and he nodded. He had already made up his mind that on his lunch break, he would come and get his stuff. He didn't have much there considering that it was her place and he had already bought a place before he met her so it was still considered very new and he was letting Javy, his friend from The Naval Academy, stay there. He was in his mind thinking of everything and wasn't paying attention until she had said his name. "Jake?" Elizabeth asked and he looked up.

"Hmmm?" He asked

"Did you hear me?" She asked and he shook his head.

"No sorry I have a lot of my mind." He said and she frowned.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked and he shook his head.

"No. I got to get to work. I love you." He said and kissed her hard and extra long then he headed out the door, leaving a confused Elizabeth. He didn't even give her a chance to say she loved him back.

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Jake got to the base in record time and through the gate without any trouble. As soon as he parked another car pulled in next to him and he recognized it as Javy’s. They both got out at the same time. "Did you get the orders?" Javy and Jake nodded.

"Yup. Sure did. You?" Jake said as they walked into their building and to the office that they shared.

"Yea I did, I leave the say after you. Have you told Elizabeth?" Javy asked. He was fond of Elizabeth and considered her a friend.

"No. I don't want to. I'm thinking of ending things with her." Jake said and it pained him to say that.

"What? Why?" Javy asked looking at him shocked.

"This is the longest deployment I'm going to be on. All the others were short. I don't want to break her heart when I don't come home. So I'm gonna go at lunch and move out and back to the house." He said and finally looked up at his friend who was looking at him like he had two heads.

"Jake. That's absurd, even for you." Javy said and Jake hung his head.

"I know but it has to be done. I don't have much there." He said and Javy sighed and gave up trying to convince him to do the opposite of what he's going to do.

"Fine. I'm not happy with your decision but I'll help you." Javy said and Jake nodded.

"We'll go at lunch." Jake said

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After the weird goodbye, Elizabeth got ready for the day. Jake's behavior still running through her mind. She didn't know what to think about it and tried not to think about it. She and Jake had met through Javy and it was an instant connection. As she was putting her makeup on for the day so made a mental note to text Jake. As she was walking down the steps she decided to go ahead and text him.

I don't know what happened this morning but I love you and hope you have a good day.

She hit send and waited for a reply, which usually happened fairly soon after the first text. As she waited so got nothing and that made her heart drop. She decided to push it behind her and get along with her day. Elizabeth worked on base at the school. She was the middle school history teacher and she loved her job.

When she was done inside she headed out to her car and started her journey to the base. She wasn't in the Navy but a civilian working on a Navy base. When she got to the school she parked and walked in. Soon her students would start piling in. She tried to call Jake hoping he wasn't up in the air. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed his number after 3 rings it went to voice-mail.

You've reached Jake Seresin. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible.

Hey Jake, it's me. I'm not going to be able to do lunch today. I'm just not feeling all that great. I hope you have a good day and I love you.

Elizabeth frowned as she finished her message this was not like Jake. She didn't have to think long because a turning in her gut had her rushing out of her classroom and to a nearby bathroom. She barely made it into the stall before she was throwing up. This had been going on for about a week, she thought it was just a stomach bug that she had caught from her students so she let it go. She didn't tell Jake because she didn't want to burden him. When she was done throwing up she went back to her classroom just as soon as the students started to come in. She sighed and started her day.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

When lunchtime came around for Jake and Javy both men went and got into Jake’s truck and went to the house. Before they left the building Jake saw that he had some messages from Elizabeth but decided to ignore them. When he listened to the voice-mail he thought maybe what he was doing was out of line and he should back out, but those thoughts came back and he decided to move along with his plan. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Javy asked and Jake nodded.

"I'm sure." He said as they pulled out of the base and drove the short amount of time to the house. When they got there and parked in the driveway and headed inside everything was the same as they had left it. Jake sighed standing in the kitchen looking around but got a move on, if he wanted to do this he needed to do it now.

"You're 100% sure?" Javy asked one more time looking around the house that he had been to so many times.

"Yes, Javy. I'm 100% committed to this decision." Jake said with a slight annoyance even though he was thinking about having second thoughts.

"Ok man. Just making sure." Javy said as he followed Jake to the bedroom. Everything was still the same. Jake went to the closet and pulled out two duffle bags and sat them on the bed and began to put his belongings in them. It was silent as the two men worked with the occasional question from Javy about something.

All of the clothes and bathroom items were cleaned out and packed they headed to the front of the house. Jake had decided to leave the TV, couches, and most of the appliances there for her since he was going to be deployed and wouldn't need them. He grabbed his computer, charges, extra phone charges, and odds and ends that were lying around. "I think that's everything." Jake said while doing a look around one more time.

"I don't think this is right. She loves you, man." Javy said and Jake sighed and hung his head. He knew it was wrong but to him, it had to be done.

"I know. I just don't want to break her heart when I don't come home." Jake said and Javy nodded as they picked the stuff up and headed to Jake’s truck and put everything in the backseat. Jake had left his keys sitting on the counter along with the garage door remote. He still had time if he wanted to back out but he pushed those feelings behind and walked out the door for the last time.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

When the school had let out for the day Elizabeth stayed back and worked on some work like she would. She sighed and smiled a little to herself thankful it was Friday but also for the little child growing in her. During her lunch hour, she had run up to the store and bought a couple of pregnancy tests and took them when she got back to the school, and after waiting 5 minutes they both showed positive. She and Jake weren't actively trying but they sure weren't doing anything to avoid it.

When she finished up what she needed she packed her stuff up and headed to her car. She said her goodbyes to her friends and colleagues who had stayed late as well. She had been too busy to text or call Jake so she sent him a message. When she got her phone out she frowned at the lack of notifications.

Hey! Finally done for the day! I'm heading home! I can't wait to see you! I have some news!

She waited a good amount of time, more like the amount of time for her to get her stuff packed in her car before she looked at her phone again. Nothing. She was getting nervous and her stomach was in knots, she was worried.

All she could think about while driving home from work was that something bad happened to him. She loved him with all of her heart and would love to get married and have a family with him. She exited the base with ease and started her journey home. The time seemed to drag by especially since she wanted to get home.

When she got home his truck was not in the driveway and when she opened the garage it wasn't in there either. She felt like she could vomit right then and there. She turned off her car and headed inside.

When she got inside something felt off and when she noticed his phone charger missing from the counter she frowned. 'Maybe he came home at lunch to grab it', she thought which made her nerves ease up. As she was going through the house she was starting to get nervous again. Everything of his was mostly gone. She wasn't going to let it get to her just yet but when she got into the bedroom and saw the drawers open and the closet empty of his stuff tears welled up in her eyes. "This can't be happening." She said aloud to herself. She stood there in front of their now her bed and she felt sick, she rushed to the bathroom and vomited. When she was done she rinsed her mouth out and then noticed his toothbrush, cologne, and other bathroom necessities gone and that's when tears leaked out for the first time. "Fuck, this can't be happening. Not now!" She yelled out and ran to the living room to find extra shoes by the front door and his extra jackets gone. She stumbled to the couch sat down and called the only person she knew who would answer. Javy. It rang twice before he answered.

"Hello?" He answered while sitting in his and Jake's office while Jake was doing last-minute training and adjustments.

"Javy. Can you come over?" She asked

"Give me 10 minutes." Javy said and she sobbed out.

"Thank you." She said and they hung up.

She sat there for 10 minutes sobbing as she heard Javy’s car pull up. She rushed out of the house and crashed into his arms. "Everything ok?" He asked even though he knew what she had found.

"Everything of his is gone." She chocked out.

"What do you mean?" He asked as he ushered her inside.

"Everything that he owned." She said as they sat down on the couch "Nothing is here. He hasn't been answering my texts or calls. Do you think he found someone else?" She asked looking up at him with tear streaks down her face.

"No, I don't think he would do that. He loves you too much." Javy said bringing her in for a hug and silently cursing him out.

"I need him, Javy. I need him because I can't raise this baby on my own." She said and that shocked him into silence.

"Say that again." He said knowing he heard her correctly.

"I'm pregnant." She said looking up at him.

"Does he know?" He asked and she shook her head.

"No, I was gonna tell him tonight. I found out this afternoon. Please don’t tell him." She said and he brought her into a hug again.

"Everything is gonna be ok. I promise. I won't tell him." Javy said as he held his friend until her crying had turned to hiccups and her breath evened out. He held her there cursing Jake. He took his phone out and opened Jake's contact and hit text message.

I'm with Liz. You fucked up, man. Big time.

He hit send and got comfortable.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Jake had just gotten into the locker room and was changing when his phone went off. He grabbed his phone and saw a message from Javy and his heart dropped. He never wanted to hurt her just protect her. Maybe he took it too far.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@persesphonestears

@grandstrangerphantom

[rearranged-fanfic]

(Update 6/3)

Sit down a spell, weary traveler. Come and sit by my fire; bask in the warmth of the flame and rest your aching scrolling finger. You'll be sitting a while, for I have a tale to tell:

Okay, so I've had a Toshiba laptop for the better part of ten years. Maybe a little longer. That laptop has survived being struck by lightning, submerged in a bathtub, and literally having a whole bookcase topple down onto it. I thought it was immortal...

I was sadly mistaken.

About six months ago, I noticed that the typing was getting sluggish. I'd patter away at the keyboard and the letters would appear with a bit of lag. That's fine, since I use Dragon to talk-to-text for quite a bit of my writing. I really only use the keyboard for final assembly, editing, and doing quick rewrites. So, it really didn't bother me. Fastforward to April, which we will call The Great Depression. The time discrepancy between typing and having letters appear on screen became a whopping 40 seconds. Yes, I timed it.

But that was okay, because I could still use my Dragon headset.

Until I couldn't.

It would connect, but the words wouldn't appear on screen. I made sure that all of my programs were up-to-date, and that everything was working. The headset connected to my family's computers just fine. So that meant it was something wrong with mine.

Without being sure if it was the hardware or software at fault, I backed everything up to OneDrive and Google Docs.

I factory reset.

Twice. To no avail.

Over the next few days, my laptop stopped registering any keyboard input at all. It got to a point where I wasn't able to turn it on or off.

Taking it to an electronics store to get repaired didn't help, either. No luck. They said that it would be more cost effective to just buckle down and get a new one, since the age of the laptop meant that I would probably be constantly maintaining it.

My poor Toshiba died kicking and screaming, putting up a fight worthy of an epic ballad.

I saved up for a few weeks, got a new laptop, and went through the rigmarole of getting all of my programs back on it. My files are in order. My life is in shambles (but that's normal, LOL).

I DID do some story work without my computer, but... it's bad. Like, I'd die in shame if I posted anything that I thumbed in. So. Many. Spelling. Errors. How people write on their phone is beyond me. That's a talent I simply don't possess.

At this point, I'm thinking of renaming this story "HIATUS" lol. JK. But I'm seriously peeved that this happened after my last big break. Why couldn't the Depression and laptop breakdown coincide nicely? I guess that's too much to ask of the universe *Shakes fist at the sky*.

I'm creating a damn bingo card for every stupid thing that happens to me while I try to write. Because this is getting ridiculous. I broke my fingers, there was a total solar eclipse, I had a major-ish mental breakdown, and my computer bit the big one. With a free space, that's a bingo. Let's hope I don't get a blackout before the end of 2024.

I doubted the fanfiction curse. I really did. But it's apparently real. And this writer's curse has teeth, people. It bites hard.

I have my MerMay two-shot pretty well done (because I was typing it during The Great Depression), but the next chapter for REARRANGED is still rough. Crimson Chapter 3 is halfway done, but who knows how long that'll take.

The bottom line is that I'm alive and still working on the stories. The next update on this blog will be the posting of several chapters for a few different works. Fingers crossed.

Also, I'm very, very slowly answering the comments in my AO3 inbox. Some of them were pretty lengthy, so it might take a bit. Oof.

If there ever comes a time that I drop this fanfiction or am unable to continue for whatever reason, either I or my husband will be posting the entirety of my outline, as well as anything that's been pre-written for you guys to enjoy. That way there are no questions left unanswered or mysteries unsolved.

[privateanxieties]

forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 3)

Summary: Returning to previous ways of life always comes with complications. Yours has an attitude and goes by the name of Frank.

Words: 3.1K (canon-typical violence, Frank being a little shit);

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

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You don't know how many times you've abused the replay button by now, but your thumb returns to it without fail each time the video feed ends — a never ending loop, and it's up to you to break it. But, you know that once you do, you won't be able to sit still. 

And Sam Collins isn't home yet. He's had a busy day. 

You spent the first hour of staking out his place in wonderment. Last week, his life was normal. He was the average point of his demographic, and maybe even doing a little better than could've been expected given his background. He was enrolled in the local community college and had a steady job for three years at the only repairs shop in town. They do a little bit of everything. So does Sam, you suppose. He wakes up without a firearm permit on a Saturday, and that same day robs a bakery three towns away and shoots an old woman in the chest. Versatile guy. 

The second hour — or rather, the first quarter of that second hour — was spent getting his girlfriend out of the house and inadvertently out of his life. All it took was a brief phone call with a sultry greeting by a woman's voice and she stormed off not long after, suitcase in tow. The neighboring houses were next, your supply of knockout gas swiftly depleted on the two families. The use of incapacitating agents with an expiration date four years in the past is dubious at best, and you hope the adverse effects will be limited. It's a good neighborhood with good people, not unlike yours. Neither you, nor him, deserve it. 

Halfway through the third hour, you were done inspecting the inside of his house for weapons and blocking all electronics on a 900-foot radius. Signal jammers are still cheap six years after you've last used one, a discovery that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Returning to this kind of life is as easy as it’s always been, a built-in failsafe for all those thinking their path could somehow deviate. You'll have to see about other items, but for now, you're as close to your goal as you can get by yourself. All that's left is for him to come to you, the end of a strict work-home routine he's kept for the past week nearing. Now, you can finally breathe. 

It's strange. You're at ease in a place you're not supposed to be, doing something no sane person does. You're comfortable in a way you haven't been in years. Visiting the range now and then doesn't help— at most, it takes the edge off. There's no satisfaction in putting holes through wood or paper, no success in taking down a target that's meant to be there. That suspicion you've always had can't be ignored anymore. You really aren't made of the same stuff as other people, and you'll never have the life they do. You talked yourself into that fantasy last time, and where did that get you? Back where you started: an injustice happens, it's your fault, and everything unravels. Even if you don't go looking for it, it always finds you. Cryptic words spoken by a gruff voice surface in your memory. 

Once it starts, that shit never ends. It follows you everywhere. Every goddamn place you set foot in.  

Nice. Prophetic, even. 

The man wasn't wrong, on the face of it. Whatever he saw when looking at you that day, he clocked it without hesitation. He witnessed the tell-tale signs of aggression and regret and blistering anger, and he called it out with no pretense or judgment. Although, he was mistaken about one thing: the assumption that it hadn't already started, whatever this is. Your obsession, your curse? God's plan for you, if you believed in that sort of thing? You're not sure why he was trying to prevent you from going down this road back at the bakery. Did he think it would be your first time taking a life? Would he have said anything if he'd known it wasn't? A sigh sinks you further into the only armchair in Sam Collins' living room. 

The replay button disappears under your thumb once more, and you've already memorized every inch of the space displayed on screen, every movement contained within it. The angle providing the best view comes from the camera right above your doormat, one nestled inside the wooden awning. Hazel's head is covered with her favorite scarf, the one her nephew had sent during his travels across India along with a bracelet for you, a sign of gratitude for the care you offered the only relative he had left. His grandmother had told him anecdotes about you, like she told anyone around town who would lend an ear. 

You watch her try to prevent your house from being broken into, or so she thinks. You listen as she tries to shame the man into leaving, and then feel as your phone vibrates with the sound of the gunshot. She falls forward into the arms of her killer, and he drops her like she isn’t worth anything, a weak cry bellowing from the speakers as contact with the floor breaks fragile bone. Her head cracks open and pained moans are muffled into the ground. Wood creaks as rapid footsteps depart from the scene. Hazel's breaths keep coming for seventy-two seconds, and she falls quiet not long before they stop. The replay button taunts with its reincarnation. Your eyes close again, just like the first time you saw it. 

A quarter hour more passes as you sit with your thoughts, and then, things begin to happen. It's almost 1 AM when the rumble of an engine comes to a halt in the driveway, matching what you expect his car, an '09 Subaru Impreza, to sound like after fourteen years of use. Sam’s weekend shift at the new diner is over and he has come home to another night of hypervigilance and paranoia, because today marks one week since he took his first life. You put away the phone and replace it with the suppressed Kimber, the same one you should've used when you first laid eyes on him.

It'll be simple. Clean. You'll air out your grievances and then it'll be over. This isn't like Auckney, and it isn't like Houghton, Roanoke, or Fargo. You aren't pretending you can return to the bakery and your quaint two-bedroom suburban house anymore, dragging out your days until the merry-go-round starts up again. You'll always end up back here, so why expect you'll ever do anything different? You like this. It's something you can do, and do well. If you aren't allowed an alternative, either by design or sheer bad luck, then you'll embrace the only thing that makes sense. This is who you are. It's who you've always been, and you see it clearly now that the fog of domesticity and kindness has dissipated for the final time. So you sit there in the dark, a phantom, because you want him to see too. You want him to wonder if his eyes are playing tricks on him, because reality would be too cruel. You want him to look at you and realize that he's right to feel the weight of what he's done and to glance over his shoulder at every turn. Most of all, you want Sam Collins to know it does follow you, and that for him, it's arrived without delay. 

You're watching the short hallway before the front door, gun propped up against the velvet arm of the chair, a perpendicular line of sight granting the best opening. And then footsteps arrive— not from the entrance, but from the other end of the hallway. Quiet, gentle… expectant. Your eyes snap to in the second before a voice like a rumble fills the room. 

"Didn't I tell you not to do this?" 

One single breath has time to leave you before a man comes into view. You train the gun on him instinctively, knowing you don't have time to get to your feet if he's carrying. 

But, he isn't. He has nothing in either hand, which you can be sure about because he's keeping both palms spread open and level with his head, the same gesture he adopted last time you had a weapon pointing at him. You're rattled, and you aren't so confident it doesn't show. 

How the fuck is he here? 

You run through several common-sense deductions in the brief time it takes him to come to a standstill in the middle of the hallway directly across from you. He's here. He's here , which means he's been following you and every movement you've made for the past week. His question leaves no doubt— he knows what you're here to do. He managed to enter the house without tripping any of your alarms. You don't want to risk it and take your eyes off him, but it's hard to resist the brief glance out the window to your left. You bite the inside of your cheek almost in punishment. It isn't a 2009 Subaru Impreza that's occupying the driveway, but a black tactical van with annex lights mounted overhead and no visible brand insignia. 

He parked in front of the house , and you were so arrogant you didn't even fucking check that the right person had arrived. Your finger caresses the trigger. 

"Don't do that. I'm not here to hurt you." 

Both your eyebrows raise involuntarily. You've yet to take control of your body's reactions, and every second that passes makes it feel like the upper hand is being transferred to him, even if you’re the one holding the gun. While he's standing there in jeans and a button-up, casually looking like he has all the time in the world, you're becoming more and more aware of each moment that led to this fiasco. The way he's watching you without clear intent adds to your ire. He's as calm as can be and you're descending into chaos. It makes you seethe, and you haven't forgotten about the main problem. 

"Where is he?" you ask, jaw so tense your teeth barely unclench. 

Again, you're both on the same page. You don't need to say the name, and he sure as shit doesn't need to pretend he has no idea what you mean. His gaze remains impassive as it devours you. It feels like his eyes are trailing every inch of you, from the tense shoulders to the feet aching to stand, and especially your hands. 

"Told him to take off. Leave town for a while," he says, the tiniest movement suggesting a shrug. 

Your eyes lock on to his with renewed violence. You trigger one shot next to his head, lead embedding in the drywall behind him. Left-side, two inches. 

You can’t accept that the situation isn't in your control anymore, because you aren't able to get over the fact that he didn't even flinch. Instead, his gaze has become even more unbearable, skewering you in place. He's doing everything a person might do to communicate just how unimpressed they are. You don't know how to respond besides letting off another shot. Your breathing is now audible in the otherwise quiet room. Left-side, half an inch. 

"Alright. You feel better now? Want another go?" 

He's mocking you with an amused drawl, threatening your composure even further by pretending to lower his hands. 

"Tell you what— Why don't I just take off a finger?" you sneer at him, unable to sit down any longer and rising to your feet. The living room isn't that large. Only seven or so of his steps would be enough to close the distance between you. 

"Nah. If you were gonna do that, you'd have done it already. You can put that down. If I wanted to hurt you, I would've shot you through the window." 

What he doesn't say is that he could've done it at any time in the past week that you'd been unaware of his presence, and he doesn't say it precisely because he knows you know. Again. The harsh grip on the Kimber is starting to cramp your hand, but you can't relax. 

"Look. I meant what I told you back there. Hell, I spent all week wonderin' what the hell I'm doing, getting involved in shit that's none of my business. Maybe I should've let you do what you feel you have to do. But if you're going to take a life, I'm here to ask you to reconsider . " 

You say nothing, because it's hard to find something to say in response to things you can't believe you're hearing. He's here to make you reconsider. He's arguing from the wrong end of the gun for a man whose only future is death by your hand, and you can't figure out what would motivate him to do such a thing. The question that leaves your lips makes his quirk upwards. 

"Who the fuck are you?" 

"Frank," he answers with a grim smile. "Don't suppose you'll tell me who you are?" 

He's mocking you. Of course. It's not like he doesn't know — just like he's known everything else so far. A bitter scowl fights to take over your features. 

"Hey, Frank ? I'm giving you one minute to tell me where Sam Collins went, and I'm being generous." 

"Wow. Thank you," he says dryly, and you've had just about enough of his attitude. 

"No, really. Remember that trigger itch? What's your plan for when time runs out on it?" 

"Are you a vet?" he counters with his own question, completely ignoring your threat. 

You wonder if you're dealing with some kind of lunatic. His eyes narrow, but his expression remains serene. He hasn't lost an inch of his composure, and yet you feel something lurking beneath that resolute surface. 

"Wha—" 

"Military. D'you ever serve?" he clarifies, and you could swear his voice has changed. There's something imbibing every word of a very simple question, and you don't understand it or why he's even asking at all. 

"What's it matter to you?" you deflect. 

"It matters because that Warrior you're pointin' at me is issued to US Marine Corps only, and unless you served or took it off a dead Marine, ain't no way you'd have one."

It's hard to mask the tension once his words are left to hang in the air between you, and you suddenly become even more aware of how much your arms are aching. You've never played the long game like this, and there's never really been cause for aiming at someone and not shooting. Conversations like this are not part of your life experience, colorful as that may be. Although, they do seem to be part of his. Whoever Frank is, you get the impression he's about as single-minded and relentless as a person could get, and something within you is repelled by the notion of being in his presence. It's the way he exudes restraint and rage in equal measure that twists sharp metal between your ribs and leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. It's his posture, rigid yet somehow at ease, that makes your cheek tingle without the ringing echo of a slap to accompany it. You don't like the way he looks at you. You don't like how familiar it all is. Something spills forward that you have no chance of catching, and the damage is already done. 

"I didn't take it off a dead Marine. A dead Marine left it to me after he blew his brains out with it," you spit out with no preamble, look so poisonous it'd be useful in a bottle. 

His turn comes to say nothing in response to your mindless confession, but he doesn't have to speak in order to reveal exactly what he's thinking. You gather it all from his eyes as he stares you down. 

"I take it he didn't do that out in the field." 

His voice is the roughest you've heard it thus far. Your arms hold in them a deep ache but you don't know how to lower the gun, the very thing that seems to have brought him to you in the first place. He remarked on it the first time you met too. You couldn't have known he recognized its origins.

"Made no difference in his mind where he was," you speak as evenly as you can. "Just like it makes no difference that you're here. I won't reconsider. I don't care where Collins ran off to, or how far he's gotten. He took something from me. There's nowhere he can go where I won't find him."

The words help reinforce your conviction, and they also seem to resonate with him. Either that, or he wasn't very adamant about persuading you to reconsider in the first place, because he isn't showing any signs of annoyance at your declaration. He doesn't reply or refute it in any way. There’s no fight. If anything, he seems passive — not quite defeated, not quite determined to try again. It's all the same to you. Getting away from him and towards your goal is the only thing you care about. Enough time was wasted here. 

You breathe in slowly, and when you look at him next, your mind locks on to a singular path. 

"Frank? Turn around." 

Judging by the crinkling of his eyes, your request amuses him. 

"Gonna shoot me?" he grumbles, lowering his arms another inch. 

"That depends on you. Now, you're going to turn around, walk out that door and get in your van. I want you to drive off into the sunset, never to be seen again. I've no reason to hurt you. But if you get in my way again, I'll have a reason. We clear?" 

His mouth turns up in a half-smile. For perhaps the first time since meeting him, you don't find his expression as condescending as the rest of him. 

"In that case, we might have a problem." 

Your finger caresses the curved edge of the trigger. 

"And why's that?" 

There's fire in his eyes as well as in his words. 

"Because the man you're looking for is in that van. And you should know…" His arms come to rest by his sides. There is a subtle tremor in your own. "His name isn't Collins— it's Huerta . You kill him, and you'll be starting a war."

.

.

-to be continued-

A/N: Let me know what you thought of this chapter! From here on out the story will move into different territory and we're going to get into some delicious interactions between Frank and Reader. These two have a lot of issues between them and we'll start seeing some of them👀

[apomaro-mellow]

alright, i'm going to go ahead and made a rant post about this car situation just so i can get it out and put it to bed. I don't mind if yall wanna comment or whatever but after this I'm just done.

So we need to go back almost a year. My car at the time seemed to be on its last legs. There was a repair it needed that was going to cost like $1200 and I had already paid close to that amount just a few months prior for another repair. I didn't want to pay that again but was willing to save up until it was suggested that I start looking for another car.

I will give my dad props for this one and only thing. He held my hand during this process bc it was my first time. Every other car I had, had been gifted by my grandparents. This was my first time shopping for one. Now it gets interesting bc instead of just getting rid of my old car, my grandparents were going to foot the $1200 bill anyway so that my brother could get it.

I felt iffy about that situation but figured it was for the best since I'd be getting a vehicle with no problems. The problem came about when he decided to drive it around and rack up tickets while MY name was still on the title (this cause my insurance premium to shoot thru the roof but thankfully i got it fixed). I literally had to escort my brother to the DMV to sort out all the paperwork and even THEN he took forever to actually change the plates so I was STILL getting tickets on my record and I had to be the one to go and take what were still my license plates off the car.

This could have potentially been an asshole move, bc I had no idea where his new plates were, but that's not my responsibility. Lucky for him, the new plates were where? In the car, bc he never did anything with them after our DMV appointment. This all occurred in summer/fall 2023.

Then in December, he starts having problems with that car. It even stops on him a couple of times. There is talks of him getting another one. Just like me, all of his (many) previous cars were gifts from our grandparents. I should have probably said earlier but these are all USED cars. We're not getting brand new ones, but still, good condition that we've never had to pay a cent for.

It's also worth mentioning that in the like....six months my brother has had my old car he got hundreds of dollars worth of tickets. Not a single one he paid on his own. Either I took care of it bc they were in my name and he's literally gone to court for not paying, or my dad has paid. But I feel like I'm digressing.

About last week, he curses out my mom because she asks him to *checks notes* receive his infant child when his baby mama drops her off. Apparently that was disagreeable and he cursed her out on the phone, then later to her face when she got home. The part that stuck out in his rant to me was that no one in our family had ever done anything for him. I think just from what I've stated above, it's pretty obvious to see that's false.

So whyyyyyyy

Why why why

After that breakdown, my dad and grandparents thought "Let's just give him another car"?

It is exhausting to see the same thing happen again and again. But this time kind of burned me bad because he got the exact same car that I have. The one I had to shop for. The one I had to visit sellers for. The one I am currently on the hook for a $10,000 loan with like 15% interest. My mother told me this was the case but I didn't actually see the car until this morning.

Here's where I give my dad the benefit of the doubt a single time: It's a common car, dealers have a ton of them, it's probably still an attractive price range. And that's the end of it.

But what I see, is that I can do everything I was told to do: do well in school, get a degree, get a job, start building my career. And it gets me virtually the same as if I did none of those things and on top of it disrespected my parents to their faces.

Like really, why am I working so hard? If doing what I do gets me the same as a foul mouthed, lazy ass, ungrateful son who's shackin up with the most frustrating baby mama in the world then what the hell is this all for anyway?

[kpopimagi]

A Flower Under The Rain [Part 4]

Characters: Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and Kang Gyuri (OC) Genre: Angst, Romance Au: Hanahaki!Au  Type: Series  Word count: 6,503

It all began with a cough and then, a subtle sting in her chest. Kang Gyuri cried, knowing that in a matter of months, she would be another figure in the death toll of the most dangerous and cruelest outbreak in human history.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8-1

“Why are you so…annoying!?” She grunted, “How many times do I have to repeat myself?”

Gyuri groaned, kicking the air under her desk and almost pulling her hair out in frustration. Taking a deep breath, cracking her knuckles, and focusing herself back on the task, Gyuri read the string of complaining messages once again. She set herself to explain the client the same thing again for what it felt, the trillionth time.

A few years back, her father settled a small room of their house as her work office, and that was the most excited she had seen him. He took the project to set up that space to her liking very seriously. Her father went from being a painter to a craftsman. He also repaired any electricity issues or whatever she needed him to fix to make that room the most comfortable home office in the world. Gyuri never missed the chance to shower him with praises. However, sometimes even the familiarity of her safe space wasn't enough to fight back the stress of dealing with other human beings.

Despite her explanations, the client started complaining again. She deflated on her seat, wondering if she could just curse at him. Gyuri was pondering the possibility of doing it and getting a complaint about her performance because, at this point, she didn’t care anymore. She had been logged in the session with him for almost 3 hours and yet, didn't make any progress. For the last two years, the man kept demanding upgrades on his website way above the budget of what his basic package could cover. In all that time, whenever he requested to talk to her, Gyuri could not make him understand that.

Looking at the clock on the other side of the room, she just tried to calm herself down. She was lucky enough to have supervisors that weren’t that strict overall. They didn't care that much about her office hours as long as she covered a 40-hour quota every week, although she set herself a clocking in time. Some days, depending on her mood, she stayed in her pajamas all day, but most of the time, she changed her clothes. It didn’t really matter to anyone, but somehow, it gave her some sense of belonging. It made her feel like she was a functional nine-to-five office worker.

It was pouring down outside, she hadn't realized. The sky was grey, the temperature kept dropping, and Gyuri made a decision. She closed all the tabs and programs and signed out without even saying goodbye to the client. Her temples and the back of her head pulsed in an imminent headache, and just a minute later, her work phone started whirring on her desk. She didn’t have to look at the screen to know the client was calling her. She let it buzz like always until it stopped, and when she grabbed it, it was to find another missed call from the nine the same client had made on that day.

Letting out a tired sigh at his obnoxiousness and insistence to talk to her, but Gyuri never talked to clients. She avoided it at all costs, but she texted the man nonetheless, apologizing for going offline so suddenly. She excused herself, saying it was due to a power outage. Rolling her eyes at the new string of messages, she assured him that she would keep working on his website as soon as she had power again. That was obviously a lie, but he did not need to know that.

Gyuri simply turned off the phone and practically leaped out of her seat to get ready. The gloomy weather looked like the perfect chance to lift her spirit, relax a little, and be done for the rest of the day, and she lost no time to put her favorite raincoat on. Once zipped up, she twisted her body left to right, rubbing her arms on the sides of her body. She loved the swish-swish sound the fabric produced whenever she did it and made her squeal a little in happiness. Without fail, finally wearing one of her favorite pieces of clothing always filled her heart with joy.

She tried to wear her raincoat as regularly as possible. It was bright green if you look at it from an angle. If you look at it from a different one, it glimmered blue, and sometimes you could see purple gleams, and some other times, yellow ones, and the more she moved, the crazier the colors were. Somehow, Gyuri still had it hard to believe she had something as fashionable as an iridescent raincoat. That simple garment was too hip and high-end for her. It definitely wasn’t something she would wear, but it was the kind of crazy colors she liked and wished she was edgy enough to wear more often. 

Gyuri grabbed her rain boots, her purse with her phone, wallet, a simple lip balm, and the tin can with just a couple of candies left in it, and that was it. She thought about taking her watch as well, but the pouring rain was pleasant and soothing enough that she considered there was no need for it.

“I’m going out mom!” She yelled, skipping down the stairs, carrying her rain boots, and heading out when she heard her mother hurrying up to her.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some coffee.” She replied, grunting as she pushed one foot into the boot, “Maybe even go to the bookstore.”

“Do you have money?” Her mother asked, already pulling her coin purse out.

She meant to argue. She didn’t need her mother to give her pocket money to go out, but when Gyuri looked at her, she seemed to be out of herself. Whatever made her mother hesitate, she brushed it off as fast as she could, cleared her throat, and pulled a couple of checks off her purse.

“Here, get yourself a nice dessert. Something really sweet.” She said, but Gyuri noticed the frailty in her voice.

Her mother slipped the checks in one of the pockets of her raincoat. Before Gyuri could say anything, she walked away to the kitchen, leaving her at the entrance, completely taken aback. 

After the dreadful day of the news, the mood at home calmed down to a certain degree. Although they didn’t openly talk about her problem, Gyuri noticed the sadness and apprehension in how her parents handled themselves around her. Whereas her mother kept cooking, making all of her favorite dishes, and randomly giving her pocket money. Her father’s grieving process was a lot more heartbreaking.

It had been only a week, and she couldn’t dismiss it anymore. Her father would come into her room after dinner and just sit down and talk to her. He’d bring out a random topic he read in the newspaper or something that happened at work, and just like that, they would jump from one subject to another. The discussions always went from a well-articulated debate on social media regulations to laughing at some silly meme he asked her to explain. Every single time, their conversations came to an end in the same way, and that was with her laughing.

“You must be tired.” He’d say, after a while and before pressing a soft kiss on her forehead, “Have a goodnight, pumpkin.”

Her father would leave with a forced smile on his face, and Gyuri pretended she couldn’t hear him break down outside the room even if it crushed her heart every single time it happened.

Gyuri never mentioned anything to them, and she knew they didn’t mean to overwhelm her with the attention, but there was so much she could handle before feeling like she was going to explode. When the weather decided to mirror the heaviness in her heart, she couldn’t help but go out and try to make the most out of it.

The bus ride to her favorite coffee shop was almost uneventful until she felt her phone buzzing and her mood sank when she saw a new text from Baekhyun. She ignored it, burying the phone deep in her purse, but found it impossible not to think about it for the rest of the ride. No matter how much she tried to focus on anything other than him, he remained on her thoughts.

It seemed like Baekhyun gave up on his efforts to find out what was going on with her, which she was mildly grateful for. A week later, apart from the usual texts he sent her to share his favorite memes or a new favorite song, nothing much happened at that end. However, their weekly hangout coming was enough to make her a bundle of nerves, and she couldn’t formulate a plan to skip it without making him suspicious.

Arriving at the bus stop a few minutes later, Gyuri jumped out to the rain, and the rhythmic pitter-patter of the raindrops against the hood of her raincoat made her so happy. She had it almost impossible to stop a smile from spreading across her face.

She liked the rain. 

Most of the time, Gyuri felt guilty for finding it amusing when she saw people struggling with their umbrellas. Somehow, it cheered her up. The rain also made people quiet. When everybody was immersed in their rush to locate some shelter and avoid the chaos, Gyuri always found herself pleasantly lost in its music. When most people ran away from it, she embraced the stillness and the peace. The rain muted every scary noise and stopped people from forcing her to talk.

The rain granted her the possibility to be out there, feeling carefree and alive. It allowed her to hum to herself without worrying if anyone could hear her voice, jump into puddles, feel her nose getting cold, and her fingertips numb. 

She lived for rainy days.

Immersed in looking down to the ground and the satisfying and perfectly chaotic patterns of the raindrop splatters and ripples on the floor, Gyuri's happy self-absorption came to a stop. She bumped against a body, making her step back in surprise. 

“Sorry.” 

She heard at the same time she mumbled her apology, but even the music of rain was a lull in comparison to his soft voice. Gyuri looked up to find the ciabatta man, staring at her just as surprised as she was. However, the first thing she noticed was that his eyes under his black cap had a sad glint to them. What were the odds of running into him in such a big city?

“How are you feeling?” He asked, showing a very tiny hint of a smile.

Gyuri was not sure. She was happy for the time being in that exact moment under the rain but thinking on something further than her immediate mood felt treacherous. She didn't bother to give him more than a shrug. 

“Do you want a coffee?” She said instead, trying to ignore her looming anguish.

He helped her. He essentially saved her life and stayed with her when she felt desolated. Gyuri owed it to him, but she didn't know how to repay such kindness. A cup of coffee had to do for now.

“I was on my way to get one, actually.” He said, and his small smile got wider. “Do you mind?”

The ciabatta man pointed out somewhere in the opposite direction of where she was walking to, and Gyuri found herself gladly turning around and joining him on his way to the coffee shop. That simple action felt liberating somehow, and she genuinely smiled for the first time, probably since the diagnosis, and that felt invariably better. She even felt comfortable enough to let out a chuckle when he arranged his umbrella to cover her as well, despite her having her raincoat on.

“I've realized that you're still a stranger.” She said after the first block of a silent walk.

“Do Kyungsoo.” He said unceremoniously, and even his name, with that deep voice of his, had a nice ring to it, “What about you? You're also still a stranger.”

“Kang Gyuri.”

“Nice to meet you.” He replied.

After the polite and discrete introductions, they kept walking side by side in a comfortable silence under the rain. Somehow and out of nowhere, Gyuri had the urge to explain herself to the considerate stranger. 

“About the other day, he wasn't lying.” Gyuri started, focusing herself on the curtains of rain falling in the street, “I don't have any friends.” 

Gyuri never thought that saying that out loud would have such an effect on her. It was a sad admission. She always pretended it didn’t bother her, but it did. She did not have friends. The only one she got was going to be the cause of her death.

“I have problems talking to people.” She admitted with a sigh.

“You don’t seem to have problems talking to me.” He pointed out, and Gyuri had to agree.

She looked at him, wondering how on earth was so easy to articulate words in front of him. His proximity felt comfortable, and the noticeable lack of judgment in his eyes was reassuring.

He grabbed her hand, and she noticed right away that her nails were different. The pinkish and natural tone of her skin was suddenly tinted with a yellowish tinge. Red swirls spotted them and looked like blood bruises under her fingernails, making her hands look sick.

Gyuri realized then why her mother faltered earlier that day. Bringing her hands closer to her face, she had to come to terms that her body was finally outwardly caving into the disease. 

“At least they aren't fuchsia.” He grumbled, and Gyuri couldn’t hold the snort that came from the bottom of her chest.

“Your nails were bright pink?” She asked, amused just to imagine him with bright-colored fingernails.

“Do you want to get them done?” He said, looking over his shoulder to a nail salon across the street, “I painted mine when the bruising showed up.”

“I would never guess you as someone so versed on the subject.” She said, and her comment was received with a small and lopsided smile, “What color did you use?”

“Nude.”

“Of course.” Gyuri chuckled, “I’ve never gotten my nails done before so I guess I can go wild for once.”

With a nod and without letting her hand go, Kyungsoo pulled her forward to cross the street. Once on the other side and as he held her hand, Gyuri openly stared at him, unable to utter a word. He should have let her hand go already. Although he didn't, the warmth of his skin was so pleasantly comfortable around her numb fingers that she simply tightened her hold onto it. 

They came into the small salon, and she stood still at the entrance, waiting for Kyungsoo to manage his umbrella. Her eyes wandered around the place to find a spot to hang her raincoat dripping with water when she was welcomed by a lady. She had such a kind and wrinkled smile that Gyuri found so heartwarming, and that was already prodding her to a rack where she could leave her coat.

“Good evening,” Kyungsoo greeted once he settled his umbrella in a corner, “We don’t have an appointment.” 

“Oh don’t worry,” the woman smiled, offering them both to sit, “my next two appointments have been canceled because of the rain.”

Without even realizing how easy and fast everything was happening, Gyuri was suddenly seated in front of the lady. She placed her hands over the table, and it didn't occur to her that her hands might be ugly or weird, but the woman paused when she saw them. She had seen sick hands before, and it showed in her reaction. The lady got over it quickly and placed a gentle hand on top of hers, in a comforting way Gyuri found quite soothing. 

“What color would you like?” She asked.

Gyuri let out a tiny squeak. She hadn't even assimilated the situation she was suddenly in, let alone make a decision so fast. She could go safe and do the same as Kyungsoo. She could get her nails nude and plain, but something tiny in her head screamed at her. Gyuri felt suddenly bold.

“Like your raincoat?” The woman asked when Gyuri looked over her shoulder to observe her coat hanging by the entrance, and she nodded, “Nice choice!”

The woman smiled brightly at the garment and was genuinely excited to get everything ready. In less than an hour, Gyuri was walking out of the salon with her hands upright. She stared at the iridescent gradient on her nails as her fingers seemed to sparkle with glimmers of green, blue, and purple just like she wanted. Gyuri couldn’t believe just how pretty her hands looked.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Kyungsoo asked as he walked by her side, still holding the umbrella for her.

“I work from home.” She replied mindlessly and absorbed with her new nails, “I needed a break.”

“What do you do?”

“Tech support. I’m a web developer.” She mumbled, “What about you?”

“I'm unemployed.”

She stumbled, forgetting about her nails for a second, and stared at him dumbfounded. Gyuri quite shamelessly scanned him from head to toe and was about to point out that he didn’t dress like an unemployed person. However, she looked at him better and had to reconsider her first impression. His style consisted of black trainers, simple jeans, a black jacket, a black cap, and nothing else.

“It’s by choice.” He chuckled, catching her in the middle of her not-so-subtle inspection, “I also needed a break.”

“That's good,” Gyuri said, ignoring the embarrassment of getting caught and wishing that he wouldn't believe she was that bold, “By the way, where did you get the candies? I'm running out of them already.”

“I can take you there, it's not that far.” 

***

“How much should I take?” Gyuri asked, weighing candy sacks in each hand. 

Just like Kyungsoo said, the candy shop was a few blocks away from where they were. But what felt beyond anything she could imagine was that Gyuri was practically spending the evening with a man she just met. Granted, they both seemed comfortable in spending that time in silence and if he ever decided to start a conversation, she found it easy to engage with him.

They were at the candy shop, and Gyuri was over the moon with the number of designs, shapes, and flavors they had; and she couldn’t make her mind of what to buy. She observed that Kyungsoo was capable of entertaining himself just by looking around and time to time, suggested to her to try something.

“How long did it take you to go through one of these?” She asked again, pondering if buying such a big sack of rock-hard licorice-flavored candies was just too much.

“A couple of days.” He answered softly and stood next to her without being able to hide the gloom in his face.

“That’s a lot of candies…” Gyuri muttered, suddenly worried and the bags that didn't feel as heavy, in a blink of an eye, were a lot lighter, “How many do you get now?”

“I don’t.” 

Gyuri let out a sound. Of course, he wouldn’t if he had survived the disease already. He didn’t need them to grasp to the least possible hint of relief anymore. He was free of relying on such tiny things to stay alive. She felt, even if it was faint at first, a wave of despair ready to take over her but was determined that she had to try and push it back for as long as she could. Or at the very least, keep it at bay while she was still with Kyungsoo. Gyuri kept her mind on the trail of the task and asked the employee for two sacks of candies, one with fruit designs and the other with cutesy and adorable drawings of dragonflies.

“If you don’t need them then why do you still carry them around?” She asked discreetly as they both watched the employee add more and more colorful candies to the scale.

“Sense of security,” Kyungsoo added just as softly.

She couldn’t blame him. She had felt it too. She felt the safety all over her body just by knowing she had that small tin can in her purse and the sensation of almost instant ease when she put the candies in her mouth.

“May I ask something?” She said, gathering all of her bravery, “Did you survive the disease?”

Kyungsoo froze on his spot. She saw his jaw clench and going rigid as if the simple question was painful and unrequited. For an instant, Gyuri started to regret it and nagged herself for the intrusion. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said under his breath, stepping away from her, “Not here, at least.”

It was hard to gather if the question offended him somehow but Kyungsoo left the store and waited for her outside, and when she came out, they resumed their walk to the coffee shop in silence. If Gyuri had any other questions, his reaction made her reevaluate her approach. The last thing she wanted was to upset the only person in the world that fully understood her situation but also seemed willing to help her out.

“Screw it,” she muttered to herself, skipping forward, “What do I have to lose anyway?”

Decided and determined, Gyuri saw the small pools of water on a set of stairs in front of them. With a sudden surge of audacity, she ran down into them, splashing water around her. She felt her cheeks burning and a tiny hint of embarrassment coming over her, but it wasn’t nearly as mortifying as she thought it would be. Maybe that was what being outgoing was all about; just going for it no matter how scary it was just to see that it was not as bad.

She looked over her shoulder and found Kyungsoo standing at the top of the stairs, observing her silently. Nothing was showing on his face but a complete and perfectly blank expression. 

“What’s the point of having rain boots if you’re not going to jump into puddles?” She added, trying to ignore the self-consciousness as she concentrated on showing her boots to him.

“Cute,” He added as he walked down the stairs with a smile that Gyuri was sure had finally reached his eyes. “I like your raincoat.”

“I love it,” she agreed, grinning as she moved her arms around so the colors and the swish-swish sound of the fabric would change with her movements, “I’m like a dragonfly.”

A deep laugh drew her attention off her silly dance. The sound was so soft, short, and yet so deep and so genuine, it felt so distinctive of Kyungsoo. She was so engrossed staring at his adorable and round face scrunched in an entertained laugh that she found interesting the expression just lasted for a couple of seconds. 

“What?” She asked, slightly taken aback when he joined her.

“It suits you.” He added, giving her a beautiful and easy smile that confused her before he walked away.

Snapping herself from the daze, Gyuri caught up with him, lost in her memories. Back then, Baekhyun made a face when she showed him the iridescent raincoat on the shop's display window. She remembered his expression vividly and his lack of comments when she tried the coat on before buying it. He didn't say anything mean about how she looked with it, but also, nothing good, and right next to her was someone that happened to find her cute making a fool of herself with it.

A few blocks later, they arrived at the coffee shop, and they went in. Gyuri approached the counter only to stagger back a little when she realized that Kyungsoo was behind her, looking at the menu from a distance.

“What do you want?” He asked when she joined him and let a couple go first and order before them.

“I’ve never come here so I wouldn’t know…” She wondered, reading the menu, “What’s good?”

“Everything.” He replied, glaring and then squinting at the menu board, “Although chocolate is their specialty, they bring it from Mexico. It’s really good.”

“Hot chocolate then.” 

“Dessert?”

“Will you be getting anything?” Gyuri asked, approaching the counter to get a better look at the cakes, and Kyungsoo followed her.

“Same as you.” He said as they read the dessert menu together.

“The cheesecake looks good.” She pointed out the gigantic slice of cheesecake behind the glass, and with a nod, Kyungsoo went to the checkout to order.

Gyuri watched him approach the employee at the counter. She simply stared at his back as he paid and weirded out about the whole exchange. She started to wonder what kind of power and charm he had that she didn’t freak out like she would have whenever she visited a new establishment.

As if realizing that she was in an unfamiliar place full of noisy people, Gyuri looked around, and she just knew. She was convinced that the stares and whispers weren’t real. She was aware that her mind tended to play tricks on her when she was in public and made it feel like every rude glance and every conversation was about her. However, she struggled to convince herself that the prettiest girl behind the bar wasn’t judging her from afar.

Another employee whispered to the pretty girl as they gave glances at Gyuri's general direction. After that, she couldn’t just find a reason good enough to ignore them. They were positively talking about her. In a lame effort to shield herself from their judgy glares, slowly and as unsuspectedly as she could, Gyuri hid behind a column and patiently waited for Kyungsoo.

He was back in no time with a vibrating pager in his hands, and almost sighing out in relief, she followed him further into the shop to find a place to sit. She observed him as they waited and tried to come up with a sensitive plan to approach the subject again. However, as much as she focused her mind only on him, the attractive employee behind the counter with pale skin and pitch-black hair kept capturing her attention.

“What?” Kyungsoo asked, looking over his shoulder, following her gaze.

“I was just thinking. That girl over there.” She said absently, prodding her head to the pretty girl, “Isn’t she gorgeous?” 

Noticing the sudden attention from her and Kyungsoo, the girl seemed to be caught off guard and ducked behind the counter. Gyuri snorted at her reaction, sometimes her mind didn't play tricks on her, and they did judge her.

“Do you like girls?” Kyungsoo asked, bringing her back to the conversation at hand.

“Most unlikely, I like Baekhyun and I know for a fact that Baekhyun is a man, so…” She admitted. It took her a couple of seconds to realize what just came out of her mouth, “Don’t get any weird ideas.”

For some reason, that only made Kyungsoo find her slip even funnier. His cheeks went up in a conceited chuckle that totally meant he was indeed thinking the worst of her.

“I’m just certain he has a...” She added, “...a penis.”

Gyuri felt her face flaring in embarrassment as she tried to fix her blunder. But the longer she kept talking, the worse everything sounded, and Kyungsoo finally cackled, thoroughly amused. His shoulders even moved in restrained laughter.

“Don’t. Do not be a perv,” Gyuri warned, thinking as fast as she could to explain her poor choice of words as she raised the vibrating pager at him. “He fell asleep watching a movie, he was wearing sweatpants and he got it hard in his sleep. That’s it.”

He laughed again, and the deep timbre of his voice came out just as soft and short as the first time, and any trace of embarrassment vanished almost instantly. Gyuri simply watched him sitting there, chuckling softly and unbothered as the tips of his ears peeked out of his cap with an unusual red tint. 

It was an amusing incident indeed. Gyuri was grateful that Kyungsoo took it as such but remembered why she kept that particular memory buried deep, deep, and hidden inside her. Almost instantly, every single and dangerous thought came to the surface of her heart with all of its power. Despite all of her efforts for months, she just couldn't ignore them anymore.

“From that day on, I started to wonder what it would be like to…you know,” She mumbled, unsettled to admit it out loud.

“Sleep with him?” Kyungsoo asked, completing the sentence for her, and she had no other choice but to agree.

Gyuri felt the weight of that confession instantly, and the implications of accepting that her body desired her best friend in a very lustful way crushed everything she believed in. It was humiliating to acknowledge that she was that weak. It felt like a joke that something as natural a sex could weigh that much on her feelings for Baekhyun that she had to hold her head, afraid of it splitting in half out of frustration.

Kyungsoo wasn’t laughing anymore. She couldn’t sense him moving, but she was too flustered and embarrassed to even open her eyes and let their gazes meet. There was so much judgment she could take in a day, and seeing it in his eyes, would nudge her off control. 

“You love him and everything about him,” He assured, “never be ashamed of that.”

Gyuri sat up straight and just gaped at the guy seated in front of her. Kyungsoo wasn't even talking directly to her. He had his eyes lost in the pouring rain outside the coffee shop, but there was a tiny trace of remorse in his voice. One thing she could tell was that the guy delivering those words wasn’t only the ciabatta man that selflessly helped her out but a Hanahaki Disease survivor.

“Did you get the curse because you...” She intended to ask but hesitated when he looked at her, attentively, “...you slept with her?”

“I don’t think it works that way with sex but I bet it is just as dangerous.” He said, “Have the two of you…” 

Gyuri shook her head instantly and almost furiously at the prospect of getting intimate with Baekhyun. She could feel her cheeks blushing just to think about it, even if she couldn't afford to let her imagination wander in that scenario.

“He’s my best friend and my social skills are close to nonexistent.” She explained with a shrug, “This is the closest I’ve ever been to a date.”

“A date?”

Gyuri panicked and looked at him when she heard him, barely aware that she was the one that said that particular word first and he was just repeating it. As if on cue and saved by the bell, quite literally, the pager started buzzing loudly over the table. Kyungsoo left to pick their order up, giving her the time to calm her nerves and remind herself to control her mouth.

She did not have much to do to distract herself. Gyuri overheard the couple that came in after them, sitting a couple of tables away. By the tone in their voices, she could assume the argument was nowhere close to being solved. Thankfully, Kyungsoo was back, carrying a tray with their drinks and a massive slice of cheesecake decorated with ice cream, strawberries, and whipped cream.

“Is it true then?” She asked again as they dug into the cake at the same time, “Did you beat the curse?”

“I think so.” He said before getting the first mouthful.

“How did you do it?”

“I'm not entirely sure.” He started, chuckling when she grabbed a huge chunk of cake, “I was just waiting for it to happen but then I realized she wouldn't care any less if I died for her. She would not shed a tear for me.”

“Was she mean to you?” She asked, and Kyungsoo shook his head.

“She didn’t even know my name.”

Gyuri halted. As if what he said meant nothing, Kyungsoo took his chance to take a piece of cake to his mouth, and she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She felt guilty because at least Baekhyun was close to her. At least he knew her well and would care enormously if she just dropped dead one day.

“What happened then?” She asked, not sure if it was alright to keep going.

“I guess it was the anger.” Kyungsoo proceeded, placing his spoon down and nudging the rest of the cake to her, “I was angry at her and my strong feelings for her so I started letting it all out.”

Getting startled by another nudge of the plate, Gyuri got another spoonful of the cake as Kyungsoo leaned back on his chair. He seemed to get himself comfortable despite the nature of their conversation.

“I let my hatred for her take over every other feeling.” He explained, looking at her straight into her eyes, “At some point, I even wished she could be dead and when she did die a few years ago, I felt nothing.” Suddenly, the cheesecake lost its appeal. Gyuri couldn't find it in herself to eat more, especially when Kyungsoo kept sharing his story. “At first I thought there was something wrong with me so I went to the funeral house and I wasn't even sad. I should have died of heartbreak right then and there but I didn't. I suppose, replacing that blind love with something equally strong is the answer but I can not be certain.”

“But I can't hate Baekhyun.” Gyuri admittedly said, breathing out in resignation, genuinely considering the idea, “As annoying and clingy as he can be, I can’t just hate him one day. He would be pestering me the moment I start to get myself distanced from him. He will notice something is wrong, and...”

A glass broke.

It all happened before any of them could react.

There was a whimper and a scream. People gasped. There were several screams, more astonishing gasps, and curses. Then there was a cry, and Gyuri heard it all. She saw it happen right in front of her. She saw the tears and a pair of hands begging, but her eyes were glued to the flower petals falling to the floor. Her attention was on the man dropping into his knees, clutching his chest in pain. She could hear the woman’s cries as she covered her nose and stepped away from him, and yet, her eyes could only see the pastel pink flower petals falling from his mouth. But everything turned into chaos when the sound of cracking bones resonated through the air.

The man’s back broke. He twisted in pain, screaming at the air above him and piercing everyone's ears with his agony as his eyes widened out in terror. His body trembled violently once again, and to everyone’s shock, they all saw the roots taking over the skin of his neck. His screaming was cut off by the gagging, and Gyuri heard herself whimper at the sight of something crawling out from his mouth.

“Don’t look.” She heard Kyungsoo whisper, and everything blacked out. 

Her eyes were covered, and the familiar safety of his hold shifted her around as she cried. Gyuri was aware that she was walking and that her body barely managed to stay upright. Kyungsoo kept whispering to her ear as he pressed her head into his chest and his arms held her tremblingly figure.

“That’s what is going to happen to me?” She asked, gasping for air. "That will happen to me?"

Gyuri felt her body falling, only to find herself sitting down with Kyungsoo's help. She was crying, or so she thought because a gust of freshness and humidity hit her face, and when she opened her eyes, she realized they were out of the coffee shop. 

“Breath, Gyuri,” Kyungsoo ordered, kneeling in front of her and taking the cap off so she could see his face, “What do you need?”

“My watch.” She cried, gasping for air and rubbing a hand over her naked wrist, “I forgot my watch.”

“Would my watch work?” He asked, showing his wrist to her.

Gyuri’s mind instantly gave her a hundred reasons why it wouldn’t work. The rim of Kyungsoo's watch was too thick, and the border was sharper than the rounded and worn edges of her watch. His was wider than hers. It even looked heavier than hers. However, she knew it was imperative to calm herself down before falling into a full-blown panic attack, so she forced her body and nodded.

Without any hesitation, Kyungsoo took his watch off and put it on her wrist. He placed her other hand on top of it and stayed there, in front of her, waiting patiently.

“Gyuri, you have a watch now.” He reminded her when it looked like she forgot how to breathe for a second, “what do you do with it?”

“I count.” She cried.

That was right. Gyuri needed to count for the exercise to work, and just by saying it out loud somehow set her brain to focus on the next objective. She traced the rim of the watch as she usually did with hers. It didn't work at first that she had to stop.

“Why don't you look around and tell me what you see?” He insisted, his tone still calm and gentle and never looking away.

Gasping for more air, Gyuri started again. She traced her finger around the rim and somehow noticed that Kyungsoo's watch was sharp and cold to her skin but felt solid and stable as a rock. After a couple of rounds to it, she dared herself to look around to discover they were right outside the coffee shop, seated on a small bench next to the entrance and shielded by a canopy.

“There’s a green bus there.” She started as the bus passed by the street while her finger went around the rim of the watch. “A red helmet. A store's fallen blackboard there. A black umbrella over there.”

“Keep going,” Kyungsoo encouraged her, “what else do you see?”

Gyuri closed her eyes. She was aware that fixing her attention on someone wasn’t the best idea. She shouldn't use a person to ground herself, but she couldn’t help it. The more she looked around, the harder it was to evade it. He had been quite a constant in her fight to overcome her pain that all she could do was to look into his big and round, brown eyes. His round and symmetrical face. His thick brows. The faint shadow above his lip. Oh, and his big and plump lips.

She let it ground her nonetheless. She held onto it.

“I see you.”

[stillalittlelostngl]

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Pt 2 Dabi/Reader

Reposting an old work from my old account. Will go back and edit this soon hopefully so please be kind in the meantime lol it's been 3 years since i looked at this.

You woke to a bump in the night.

Because, of course your little houseguest didn’t have the courtesy to just stay asleep, you thought as your hand dragged across your sheets in a half conscious search for your phone. Waking up had always been difficult for you, swimming through the murky waters sleep provided to drag your consciousness back into the present had never been an easy feat and this was no different. The light from the phone screen blinded you and you needed to take a moment to adjust. When you saw the time on the display, you could barely hold back the groan of annoyance.

“3:30...really?” you questioned under your breath as you tossed the phone aside. You and the stray you had managed to pick up couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep. How the stranger on your couch managed to feel rested enough to be moving around and making so much noise was a mystery to you. Closing your eyes, just for a moment you had told yourself, you began to drift back off the the sleep your body desperately needed. Your body practically melted into the warm cocoon of blankets surrounding you and you were on the very edge of consciousness when another loud thump from the person in your living room had you startling awake. It seemed your guest had no intention of letting you sleep.

Staring at the ceiling, you began to tap one of your fingers against the back of your other hand as you thought about just what to do now. Should you go out there and see if the guy needed help? It wasn’t as if you were their parent or anything and if he was up and moving then he probably intended to leave. While you wouldn’t have advised him to be up and moving for at least an hour or two longer, who were you to stop him? He was grown and had spent far more time in his body than you had when you were repairing the damage, surely he would know what’s best for himself.

But then again the thought of letting a stranger roam your home unsupervised didn’t sit too well with you. While you tried to avoid assuming the worst of people, you didn’t know this man. You hadn’t even had what could remotely be considered a single conversation with him. All you knew was that someone saw it fit to leave him half dead in an alley and as much as you hated to think it that wasn’t much of a ringing endorsement. He could very much be the type to just end up robbing you. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time a patient of yours thought to do so.

Even with these thoughts swimming in your head you had still been tempted to just call it a night. Let him take whatever he deemed valuable enough to be bothered with as long as you got an extra hour of sleep and he closed the door on the way out who cared? The most expensive thing in your possession was probably your phone, everything else in your apartment was second hand or as cheap as you could get it, so it wouldn’t be too big of a loss if he took anything.

But it would be a pain in the ass to replace.

And that’s the thought that got you up and out of bed at such an ungodly hour. You tried to be as quiet as possible as you shifted off of your bed and made your way to the door, soft curses leaving your mouth when your feet touched the cold floor.

Funny, it was only really now that you began to wonder just who it was you had let into your home. You had been too focused on getting him in the apartment and fixed up, and after that was done all you had been worried about was finally getting some rest. You hadn’t put any thought into who he was or just what he was capable of.

Your mother had always complained about your one track mind. She’d even lectured you a time or two about your bleeding heart as well, going on about how you couldn’t very much right the wrongs of the world or help people who weren’t looking for assistance. In your still sleep deprived state you couldn’t help but think she might’ve just had a point as you opened the door.

You padded down the hall, noting that you hadn’t heard much of anything from the man since getting out of the warmth of your bed. You were equal parts annoyed and hopeful that there was a possibility you had gotten out of bed for nothing.

He froze when you had entered the room, the creak of the floorboards altering him of your presence. Shadows gathered in the far corners of the space and if it wasn’t for the dim glow of the street lamp outside the window you would hardly be able to tell where the shadows ended and he began. Washed in the gold light you could make out faint details of him, the tension in his shoulders and the narrowed eyes reminding you all too much of a cornered animal.

The teal of his eyes showed an emotion but it was difficult for you to place. You could practically see the gears turning, the emotion behind his eyes seemed crude, raw, as if he was the coyote stuck in the gleaming steel jaws of the trap, biting off his leg in a last ditch effort to survive. He was all sharp teeth and rough edges and you made a mental note to keep your guard up around him. You brought a stray home afterall, you shouldn’t be surprised if it decided to bite.

It wasn’t until he began to pull himself up from the floor that you realized he must’ve fallen off the couch. If it was in his sleep or when you assumed he had made to get up to leave you couldn’t tell for sure. With how cagey he seemed to be it was probably the latter, your quirk tended to leave people light headed and fatigued and on an occasion or two had left people with neurally mediated syncope for a week given that their injuries were serious enough to require manipulation of their nervous system. You had been getting better at lessening the severity of it but if he was anything to go by you still had a long way to go.

His movements had been stiff and jerky as well, as if he was still sore from the damage from before. It wouldn’t be too surprising if he was still feeling some aches and pains, you had just fixed and replaced numerous cells after all. It was a process that would’ve taken weeks, maybe even longer given the punctured lung and all, had his body have to do the work on its own. With your quirk the time span had been cut down to an hour at the very most. There was bound to be some drawback from speeding up a natural process like that. How grimey he was after his roll in the trash probably wasn’t helping things much either.

You had been so lost in your own head checking over the stranger to see how well you work had held up you hadn’t noticed he had situated himself on the couch until he began to speak.

“So, you make a hobby out of dragging people outta dumpsters or something?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face and pulling at the surgical staples. Leaning forward with his head cocked and eyeing you in amusement he certainly made for a different picture than the man you found on the ground mere moments ago. His body language was lethargic and the drawl in his voice suggested that he was as relaxed as he could be for waking up in someone else’s home. It was a stark contrast from the man you saw earlier who seemed as if he couldn’t decide between making a run for it or snapping at you.

His eyes still held that same raw and unnerving intensity, though. You could hardly hold back from squirming under his gaze. The only thing preventing you from doing so was your stubborn pride that prevented you from being intimidated by someone in your own home.

“Or somethin’...,” you all but mumbled as you shifted your weight from one foot to the next. If anything it was more of a side effect of you being a bleeding heart with more tenaciousness than common sense.

His eyes narrowed at your answer and you could practically hear the gears turning. Your answer had apparently been vague enough to leave him with more questions than you cared to answer at that moment. You hadn’t really been looking to play twenty questions this early in the morning.

He had opened his mouth to say something but you were quick to cut him off.

“Before you go I’d like to give you a quick once over. Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything or that the cells haven’t gone and done their own thing.” It really wouldn’t do if he got fixed up just to end up having his body react unexpectedly to the session. While no one had ever left your care worse off than when they came to you, there had been cases -especially when intensive cell and tissue damage had occurred- where your patient’s body wanted to either reject the new cells entirely or the rate of cell growth would become concerning.

Biology was such a fickle thing and with your quirk being highly methodological in how you had to go about repairing the damage without disturbing homeostasis, these cases were a source of endless frustration for you. It was always better to make sure the work was done and done right than to send someone off with a different complication.

“Ouch, already planning on throwing me out on the cold dark street?” he said rubbing at his chest as your words had physically hurt, “That’s a bit heartless, don’t you think?”

The grin that pulled at his cheeks had you slightly concerned the surgical staples that seemed to be holding him together like some overgrown rag doll would be pushed past their limit. You weren’t too keen on seeing whatever the result of that would be.

“Heartless would’ve been letting you bleed out in that alley,” you said with a scoff, much too tired to be in the mood for the stranger’s teasing. This was familiar territory though, talkative and thinking he was far funnier than he actually was, he fit the bill for the type of clients who you dealt with on the regular. You could practically feel the tension leaving your body from how routine the banter seemed to be. You’ve suspected that it was a way to save face. It wouldn’t really do for most of your clients to have it get out that they had been injured or just how serious their wounds were. “Besides, I figured the reason you ended up face down on my floor was that you were tryin to leave.”

The shit-eating smirk on his face dimmed at your words. If you didn’t know any better you’d say the man was damn near pouting. Irritation at being caught clear on his face and you had to fight off a grin of your own at the lack of any sly rebuttal.

Taking his silence for permission to get to work you made your way towards the couch and instructed him to sit back. You were mostly concerned about how well the punctured lung had healed as any complication there would be far more serious than any of his other injuries.

“You should probably sweep by the way,” the man said as he leaned back to give you better access to the area, “it was a little dusty down there.”

You couldn’t hold back the snort of amusement. Being someone who had been laid out in some grimy ass alleyway when you found him, dust bunnies should be the least of his concerns.

“Piss off.”

The activation of your quirk cast the dark room in a white light that chased away the remaining shadows and the familiar warmth that flooded your veins as you got to work was more than welcomed. When you were younger you had looked for any reason to activate your quirk if only to have the pretty light surround your hands and the cozy feeling it provided. As a result, you would spend so much time physically distorting flowers and trees and when that got too boring ,and your control was much better, you’d genetically alter any and everything. Your mother had nearly had a conniption when she came home to you changing nearly every strand of your siblings hair a different color.

Getting to work, you observed that the cells you had repaired weren’t being rejected or proliferating more than expected much to your relief. While it would be easy enough to fix who was to say his body wouldn’t have reacted poorly to that either? Activating your quirk and doing basic manipulations had come easily enough to you, you had been doing so since your quirk had appeared. However, there were still things you needed to learn about manipulating things on a much smaller cellular level. You regularly spent hours on end studying biology and anatomy books in hopes of bettering your manipulations. You were making progress, no doubt about that, but the progress was slow and you had a notoriously short patience.

You could feel his eyes on you as you worked. Understandable since you kinda did have to feel the guy up. You had thought yourself immune to the awkwardness that often came with this aspect of the healing process, you had certainly done it enough times to be used to it, but he just made your skin itch as if it was too tight to contain yourself. You weren’t sure if you were more unnerved by his staring or your reaction to it.

You were checking over any minor damage you had ignored during the last session, in favor of tackling the much more immediate concerns of a collapsed lung and broken bones, when he decided to speak again.

“So,” he sighed as he shifted under your hands, apparently a little antsy himself, “what’s the damage doc?”

Doing one final check to make sure nothing had changed in the few moments you had spent observing the recovery of the minor damage, you gave a soft hum in acknowledgment as you removed your hands and began to move away from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll live,” you quiped from your newly designated side of the couch, watching as he examined where your hands had been as if he could see the work you did, “You’ll experience some mild irritation at most from some minor injuries your body is capable of healing on it’s own. You may experience a fainting spell which is a normal reaction to the healing. Just make sure to lay down if you begin to feel lightheaded. Don’t operate heavy machinery for at least a week, blasé blasé. You get the gist.”

“Why not just fix everything?”

“You’re really going to complain about a few bruises after I just stopped you from drowning in your own blood?” you questioned with a raised brow. In all honesty you hadn’t healed him fully because you didn’t want him to go out and try to get revenge on the person who had him in such a sorry state. If he still had a few aches or bruises he wouldn’t be too eager to go and get into another fight. Or at least you hoped as much.

Your remark got a huff of laughter out of him as he stood, ready to head out

“So, this the part where I say ‘thank you’?” he questioned sardonic amusement clear in his tone.

“Well that would be what common courtesy and basic manners call for in this type of situation,” you said as you rose from your perch to walk him out, “But do me one better and make sure I don’t see you again.” The best type of patient was the kind you didn’t see often, after all.

“You take me home and send me off sayin all of that?” he teased with a soft laugh, “Your really gunna hurt my feelings now.”

“I’m sure it isn’t the first some someone’s done so. Figured you’d be used to it by now,” you said dryly as a smile threatened to pull at the corners of your lips. That managed to get a full laugh out of him as the two of you neared the door.

Standing at the door, he looked torn between staying and going. You saw a range of emotions fly across his face far too quickly for you to even determine what the first was let alone any of the others.

“Unluckily for you,” he finally said, “my father skipped over the whole...teaching manners thing,” he explained with a wave of his hand. You rolled your eyes at the statement. You’d delt the with this type before. They had far too much pride and too fragile of an ego to properly thank you for helping them. You used to be disgruntled by it, your mother having drilled manners into you to the point where if you even thought of being rude or discourteous to someone who you felt didn’t deserve such behavior had your stomach twisting in knots. But over time you’ve grown used to it. Men feeling like they had too much to prove to be bothered with basic decency were unfortunately plentiful when dealing with drug lords and the likes.

“But my mother didn’t,” he continued, much to your surprise, “so...thanks, for...you know,” a gesture of his hands towards his body had you knowing full well what he was trying to convey. The sorry excuse of gratitude was almost laughable.

“Oh, by all means don’t strain yourself there,” you scoffed, “but yeah, I know. Just...stay outta trouble,” you felt as if you were becoming your mother at this point, lord knows she spoke those words to you enough times growing up, “I don’t wanna keep having to put you back together. You look like you’re damn near falling apart as is,” you said with a gesture to the many staples that covered his body.

He smirked at your response and give you a slight nod of acknowledgement at the command you knew in your bones he was going to ignore. “Yeah, yeah,” he all but mumbled with a wave of his hand as he opened the door, “could be giving you the same advice. Can’t be too safe pulling strangers outta alleyways, don’t know which one might just be a villain.” And with that cryptic warning the nameless stranger exited your apartment into the darkness of the city that nearly swallowed him whole as soon as he had stepped out.

You closed the door and leaned against it, suddenly feeling the exhaustion from such little sleep creeping back up after the activation of your quirk had sent it away. Looking at the clock, you noticed that what had felt like a lifetime had only passed in thirty minutes or so. There was still some time for a quick nap before you had to actually begin your day.

Dragging yourself back to your room and flopping onto the far too expensive mattress you couldn’t help but wonder about the stranger who had just left.

‘He was certainly a piece of work,’ you thought with a snort. With his smart ass mouth you were sure he had probably said something slick to the wrong person. You hoped he actually bothered to listen and didn’t go looking to start somethin after he left.

Even as you began to lose consciousness and drift off into sleep you had to fight off a chuckle at the thought. He didn’t come across as the type that would listen. Your last thought before sleep claimed you was how long it would take before he became a regular.

[chapstickman]

“I just came from r/196” ask game

Saw another post. I think I should invite y'all to one of our longstanding traditions. Answer the questions then tag 10 (or more) people. I'll go first.

Name? Jarrod

Pronouns and gender? they/he, guy???

Sexuality? Pansecual

Country? USA MERICA FUCK YEAH🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

Top 5 fandoms? hazbin/helluva, fnaf, team four trees two, i forgor the rest

What is your Most forbidden snack? fabuloso also chapstick

Would you pet a bug? scared scared scared of bugs. dont like them. scary scary.

Share a weird fact/story about yourself with the class. i love fixing things, no matter what it is. my silly little brain just latches onto it like a puzzle, which it kinda is. i can already fix most electronic devices, or alteast know how to (FUCK apple and their stupid fucking anti repair policy. thats actual fucking bullshit. i dont want to have to pay for a 200 dollar course and license to fix your shitty god damn phones. mac books and ipads are aight. but FUCK apple as a company. all this does is protect their silly little fucking income from their stupid ass fucking phones breaking all the fucking time. all it does is make it so that people who do fix phones for a living fucking cant, and no devices to fix means no food on the fucking table for them or their families. they're toying with peoples livelihoods for a bit of fucking profit.) if i dont know how to fix it (cars, microwaves, tvs, literally anything that could break) i want to learn

What does the color blue taste like? mmm yumby

What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen? the ocean. it goes on forever. it doesnt stop. i didnt realize that until i saw it in person. it stopped me dead in my tracks.

What is the stupidest thing you've ever done? ive got this protein bar. in 2020 (my second year of marching band, freshman year) i was eating a box of them on the way to marching band camp. i lost one. this was in july. i found it on the ground still sealed in january of the following year. i still have it. im going to eat it my senior year at the end of the year band dinner. i have not done it yet. im going into my senior year. im going to do it. it will kill me. i will not regret it.

Stupidest thing you've seen/heard someone else do/say? a pastor for a church i used to attend (unfortunately hes my uncle) blamed crime and evil on transgender people

Hyperfixation song? long list. Starman David Bowie, banana man tally hall, mr white keys cherry poppin daddies, play that funky music wild cherry, cant take my eyes off you frankie valli, sh-boom the ink spots, the devil went down to georgia the charlie daniels band

Is there any meaning behind your profile picture and/or username? I've been asked several times where "Chapstick Man!" comes from. It comes from TF2. I named a rocket launcher "chapstick gun" with the description "ngl chapstick taste kinda good" and then i thought the joke was funny and it stuck. my name is now Chapstick Man on like everything. i have not been sued yet. Im too cool to be sued.

Dream career as a child? also electronics repair technician (i am answering these out of order)

Dream career as an adult? still kinda a child ig. but i want to be an electronics repair technician, running my own little computer/electronics repair shop. i already know how to do it, i just need a building and to be 18 (i turn 18 in december) and people to come and give me their stuff to fix. i love fixing things.

Thoughts on cilantro? its aight ig

Have you ever been banned from a location and if so, why? I havent. but i plan to be. i am going to be silly and they cannot prevent it.

What is your cursed food combination? I did my burgers in ketchup if i want ketchup, i did my biscuits in gravy for biscuits and gravy

Trans rights? are epic!!!!!!

@everyone im lazy

[thelightningthatjumpsbetween]

Forty Five

RE8 | Wintersberg | Romance, Slow Burn | Action, Sci-Fi

Sequel of Winters and the Beast, a Resident Evil: Village Story

Table Of Contents

Ethan could smell Donna’s cartofi cu carne de porc as he dressed; his mouth watered.  Just as he pulled his shirt over his head and inhaled, he remembered that he would have to confess his strange behavior, and his stomach dropped again.  He stared in the mirror skeptically; he was clean and shaven, his hair in its simple style.  Grey sweater, blue jeans, tan shoes.  No black or grey veins crossed his face.  Just the signature frown.  He continued to stare as if doubting the reflection-he had reason to.  

Godric had said we are, in response to the question about the Black God.  That made less sense than most things.  

He could hear Evie talking animatedly from the kitchen.  Ethan’s thoughts turned to Dulvey at her voice.  Jack and Marguerite were at peace, Zoe was enjoying her life, Mia at the very least wasn’t trapped, reliving her three years of terror over and over again.  The last victim had been Evie, and she was here now-she had a second chance, a chance to be a child.  The uneasiness of Louisiana in his mind should have faded, a bad memory overshadowed by how comparatively great Ethan’s life had become.  He hoped it would only improve in the future.  

But he looked haunted, felt even more haunted, like a house full of spirits.  Like the Baker house, he supposed.  

His gaze left the mirror and drifted to the old-fashioned phone on one of the ornate desks.  He would have to call Zoe and tell her what he’d done with Eveline.  She’d kill him.  Zoe only knew the child as her tormentor.  Ethan wouldn’t blame Zoe for being mad, but as she’d planned to visit over the holidays, he would need to call her soon.  In case she decided to curse him out for an hour and mail him an alligator head, instead of visiting.

With one more, hopefully resolute, stare in the mirror, Ethan left the room.  Talking to his faraway, ancient friend had at least cheered him up enough to socialize.  He doubled back to check Karl’s room, remembering Godric’s warning about the crystal.  

He fully anticipated Karl to be peering into it deeply when he turned into the large mostly-workroom, but the engineer was at his bench with the same item in front of him.  He was stooped forward, hair wild as he worked.  Ethan didn’t even have to ask what he was doing, but the blond frowned.  “Really?”

“Don’t start,” Karl said simply, his lips gripping a cigar.  He was squinting past the smoke, his eyes glowing faintly as he held the delicate tools.  A recent purchase, a very expensive watch repair kit, which Ethan had bitten his tongue over.  Why the hell was Heisenberg so obsessed with a key that went to a factory that no longer existed?  It had been months.  He’d restored multiple vehicles, even salvaged a goddamn tank.  He’d built up the sheds, stables, the garage.  He was now working on erecting a whole little fishing village complete with windmill.  The key seemed to be the thing he couldn’t figure out.  And it led nowhere.  

Ethan had hoped Heisenberg would invite himself to the table, make nice for Ethan’s sake, but it became clear that the brunette hadn’t even considered it. 

“Godric says to protect the crystal.”  At this, Heisenberg’s head shot up.  “He said Miranda might be able to corrupt it.  I don’t know how, I’m just letting you know.” 

Heisenberg moved to stand, and began knocking things around the desk.  Ethan presumed his help wasn’t needed, and headed back toward the others, feeling slightly shunned for the second time that day. 

—--------

Some of Eva’s flowers had made their way onto the table.  The nice china was out; the tablecloth had even been changed.  Ethan marveled at how beautiful the dining room looked, and then put a hand on Eva’s shoulder.  “This looks fantastic.” 

“You seem to be a bit cheerier.  At least more than the weather.” 

“Rolling around in the mud helped.” 

She giggled.  “Godric?”

“Yeah.  How was your day?”

Eva’s nearly translucent eyebrows raised and she glanced at Alcina, who was sitting at the table with a pensive expression.  “It went well, I think.” 

“Is the castle rubble? That why she came back?”  

They both snorted at this.  “No, the castle will be fine, I believe.  We did learn things, but we can discuss those later.” 

—---------------

Dinner was actually far less dreadful than Ethan anticipated.  The first topic that came up was, surprisingly, going to the city.  Moreau and Karl already made a list of medical supplies they needed, and Donna was beaming at the idea of getting new crafting material.  Ethan had been promised a computer, still needed to buy a winter wardrobe for Rose, who was growing out of everything, and now he needed a winter wardrobe for Evie as well.  When he voiced this, Evie abruptly interrupted, “Wait…we’re going out in public, to get me clothes?”

Ethan was chewing.  He swallowed.  “Is there something wrong with that?”

“You mean, you trust me? To be around….other people?”

The table’s other occupants looked uneasily at the girl, and Ethan raised his eyebrow, dipping another roll into the stew.  “Well….yeah, I guess I do.”  He gave her the most skeptical, dad-like stare ever.  “Should I not?”

Her face softened.  “I’ll be good.  I promise.  I can be good.  I just…” now she turned back to her plate, stirring her soup uncertainly.  Ethan realized as he studied the girl’s face that she had Mia’s almost button-like nose.  Her voice was low.  “I just hated how everybody thought I was too much of a freak to be in public.  Worried I would do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing.  The lab made me age up fast, but I didn’t know how to act like a kid, I never saw another kid.  Even though the lab had them.”

What a creepy thought.  Ethan frowned.   

Donna, who sat beside the older child, rubbed a pale hand across her shoulder and back.  “You will do just fine.”  Her voice was so soft and soothing, Ethan wondered how she was ever capable of creating the horrors she lived with.  “You will be in good company…we were not allowed out of the village for many years, so it will be new for us as well.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Alcina said smugly, her red lips curling into a smile.  “I loved the city.”  She paused and looked at the window, where rain still poured against the glass.  “Though…it will be new to go in daylight.  With a body that…”

“Oh yes,” Moreau said with a loud, almost gleeful exhale.  “A body that is normal!! Yes, it will be AMAZING!”

Ethan had to smile.  They would look like a bunch of goofy tourists, in their out of date clothing and with all their excited questions.  As he turned to feed Rosemary, who had no interest in the art of the spoon, Evie asked, “Will we get ice cream?”

“Oh yeah,” he said with another smile.  Donna and Eva smiled at this question as well.  After Rose began gnawing on a carrot, Ethan returned to his own bowl.  “Although, we’ll probably be the only ones lining up at the shop if it’s raining like this out there.  They’ll think we’re crazy, eating summer food when it’s cold.” 

“I don’t mind that!”  Evie was so excited she was nearly buzzing.  Her smile was full, and without any sinister undertone.  Ethan smirked back.  

“Wait, if you are taking me to the shops, and buying me clothes…does that mean you’re my Dad?”

He nearly choked on the soup that was already halfway down his windpipe; Ethan chortled and sputtered, causing Eva to slap him on the back, as Alcina watched with a raised eyebrow.  “Uhhh, I?” 

The table waited expectantly.  

“You’d pick him? Look at ‘im, he’s scrawny, he’s a dope.  You sure you want him as a Papa?”  Karl sauntered into the room and plopped down on the other side of Moreau, grabbing a plate and ignoring Alcina’s glare as he scooped food onto it without even checking to see what it was.  “Although he does have a real mean streak, and a temper, so maybe you two are alike.”  His flash of a white smile and wink at Evie betrayed his nature, and she giggled shyly.

Alcina surprised everyone by adding to the joke.  “He’s also quite terrible as a houseguest…breaking things, bumbling around, disturbing the visiting merchant.” 

“Hey!”

“I agree,” Donna said in her quiet, contemplative tone.  She barely carried the hint of a smile.  “You should also know….he is also afraid of the dark.” 

“And he’ll just barge in anytime, no matter what’s on tv!” Sal moaned extravagantly.  Ethan tried to form words as the others chuckled, until he realized that-holy shit, they were all laughing together.  Even Alcina’s lips were upturned behind her wine glass, her cheeks rosier than he’d ever thought they could get.  

Ethan settled for cutting into the meat forcefully and mock-scowling.  He winked at Evie too.  She smirked back, but then her eyes widened as she second-thoughted Moreau’s comment.  “Wait–we have…TV??” 

—-------

After the morning plans were made and dessert was eaten, Ethan held Rosemary in his lap.  He mopped what food he could from her face, but she had always hated being cleaned.  After thrashing about, ducking from the bib, she disappeared from his arms, only to appear in Karl’s lap, laughing gleefully.  

Ethan threw his hands up, and then his eyes widened.  “Boy, I hope you don’t pull that while we’re traveling tomorrow!”

“She won’t,” Evie said with another laugh, “She has to be at least next to where the mold is to do it.”  

Karl simply ate around Rose as if he dealt with this often.  Alcina was studying the toddler with interest, and she finally, hesitantly said to Ethan, “...May I?”

“Of course,” he answered, perhaps too quickly.  

Karl picked up the toddler.  “You wanna go see your aunt?  Ask her how the weather’s doin’ up there?” 

Ethan thought his heart would surely melt, and even Dimitrescu’s expression was warm at his gentleness.  Heisenberg handed the child over, and the castellan’s facade of sternness melted even further.  She began speaking gently, cooing, as Rose very interestedly talked about something.  Rose’s father, true to form, was about to ruin the perfect moment.  

He stared at his hands.  “So…early this morning I…something happened, I. I got really forceful with Heisenberg, asking him questions, but the thing is, I don’t remember anything.” 

Eva in particular looked troubled.  He saw the glances between the others.  But she spoke first.  “What were you asking about?”

“Asking him to tell me where his crystal was,” Ethan said flatly.  He felt stupid.  What a dumb thing to lose consciousness over, wasn’t it?  It sounded lame, not scary at all like it actually was.  They were going to think he was a moron.  

“I changed.  I…”

“He calcified,” Heisenberg supplied from his seat.  “Not a full transformation, but…”

The Lords now stared with trepidation and fear.  Heisenberg threaded his dark hands together.  “He was strong too.  Had claws.  The works.” 

Moreau’s glassy pale eyes were full of worry.  “That’s not good!” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Ethan responded, and the other ducked his head as if to apologize. 

“Blacking out means you’re scared,” Evie said simply.  Her voice held none of the malice it had before, but she still spoke so matter of factly that Ethan had to remind himself she was only a child and not his elder.  Why was she the one supplying so many answers to him about his own existence? 

“Godric said that too,” Ethan said.  “I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“You have to stop being scared, silly,” Evie answered with a sly smile.  “If it happens more, it can give you more power, but maybe that’s a bad thing.” 

“It is,” Karl interjected, as Ethan contemplated.  

“How can we help, Ethan?”  Eva’s stare was the one that Ethan couldn’t meet; Eva had done nothing but help them and take care of all of them.  Eva was also the one person who knew the Mold.  If she had no answers, and Godric’s best answer was ‘don’t be scared’ …Ethan was screwed.  He hated this situation, hated the stares he was currently getting, hated that he had no answers, and worst-hated that he felt it would happen again.  

When he shrugged helplessly, she put a hand over his.  “We’ll figure it out.”

“On the other hand,” Alcina shrugged, “If you were able to control this transformation, this might help you defeat Miranda, might it not?”

The table was quiet.  

—-----------------

Ethan brought her another bottle of wine.  This time, he knocked on the door and waited where he stood.  She came to the door already bathed and in pajamas–a beautiful silken robe–her face beautifully bare of makeup.  He held out the bottle and then lifted a second glass.  “Care to…share a glass?”

Her scowl was palpable, but she stepped aside and waved him in.  “I have never in all my life invited a man into my sleeping quarters,” she admonished, and he smiled as he passed through the doorway. 

“Guess I’m special then, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”  She took the wine, and closed the door.  They sat on two plush chairs in the suite, facing each other.  Ethan began to pour the wine; she held her glass out.  “Is this about our conversation earlier?”

“Not necessarily,” Ethan said honestly, pouring his own glass.  “I just wondered how you were doing.” 

“I am….something,” she admitted, and rolled her eyes as she drank.  “I am…old, tired, sad.  Bitter.  Angry.  I am alone.  I am lonely.”

“I’m sorry.”  He was stunned to hear her speak this way, but he appreciated the honesty.  Still, he didn’t dare reach forward to comfort her; he simply looked at the floor.  

“I will say, Ethan, I appreciate your hospitality.  And your daughter is beautiful.  Daughters?”

“It’s Heisenberg’s hospitality really,” he said quietly, and then drank to cut himself off.  The last thing he wanted to do was lecture Lady D on her interactions with Karl.  He hadn’t had the best track record of interacting with Karl, after all.  

“I do not fit in here,” she said rather bluntly, fidgeting with her deep red nails.  “I may not fit in anywhere.” 

“I feel like….maybe that’s something you’ve always dealt with?” 

Her wry smile was oddly terrifying.  “Not for the reasons you might think.” 

He sat back in the chair, and drank more wine.  “Try me.” 

Alcina considered this.  She at first looked skeptical, but her eyes lighted on the compass necklace that Ethan always wore.  Clearly she recognized it, and contemplated some more.  “I think, perhaps, you might understand, at least a bit.” 

After his gesture, she began.  “You saw what the stored consciousness showed you…pieces of my life.  But that was what I consider the end of my life.  I was forty-four when I showed up on Miranda’s doorstep,” she chuffed, clearly sore about it.  “I had a whole life before this.  It was…difficult.  As a young girl, I was the epitome of feminine beauty.  I went to finishing school, even though my mother could not afford to feed my siblings.  I was the eldest, you know, and they were very poor. Our noble line ended when they moved to America and someone gambled away the family fortune.  Had I been a boy, I suppose I would have died in the war, or else become a rich businessman and saved the family.  As it was, my duty was to grow up beautiful and marry a rich businessman, to save the family.” 

All of this required more wine; he filled her glass as she continued.  “The dresses, the poetry, the instruments, the training were…” Alcina’s lower lip was trembling as she tried to smile through the sentence.  “Perfectly suited to me.  I was such a young lady .  So they all said!  It came so naturally.  But then…when I became a woman, when things began to grow, one could say,” she chuckled, but Ethan’s stare didn’t waver.  

“...I became suddenly too tall to be pretty.  That wasn’t the worst of it, I could still have survived, but I got all of the hormonal urges and ideas of puberty and…well.” 

His face was still stoic.  She shrugged at him, as if to spur him toward a conclusion, but Ethan shook his head, signaling that he didn’t understand.  When Alcina spoke, her voice was oddly full of fright, almost fragile.  “Those thoughts were all for the wrong gender.  I found femininity personally appealing, but I also found it…tempting.  Alluring.  It was all I wanted to seek out.  I was ravenous.” 

Now Ethan nodded, finally understanding, his eyebrows raised.  When she saw this, she hurriedly drank from her glass, and then asked in a rush, “Was it…difficult for you?”

“To come to terms with my sexuality?”

“I suppose that is my question.” 

He considered.  “At times, yeah.  I was confused for years, made sure I had relationships that were either low maintenance-” cue Mia, who was always studying abroad or going on work-study programs and wasn’t necessarily there, to be vulnerable with, in the early years, “or people who I knew there wasn’t a future with.  It took a long while to be comfortable, and it only happened after years of talking about it.”  He said the last part pointedly; it didn’t seem she was too experienced with talking about it.  

Alcina gave him a hesitant smile.  Then her eyes cast downward at the ornate rug under their feet.  “I did want to save my family.  I did want to start my own family even, become a mother, be the good eldest child.  But…I wanted all of that with another woman.  You can imagine that it did not go well.” 

“I can imagine,” Ethan said sardonically.  She frowned.  

“They forced me into an engagement in the end.  And he, the man….he…”  Ethan remembered the intrusive memory, the assault.  Her eyes met his again and he said nothing; she could sense already, that he knew.  She exhaled as if in relief.  

“Would you believe me, if I told you that even in my castle, even as I grew and changed, even as I murdered every man who set foot on my property, would you believe me if I said….I never felt safe, ever again?” 

“Well, if I look back at how I acted.  Last night.  If that was a fear response, I guess I can believe it, yeah.”  His lopsided smile was meant to be reassuring, but she narrowed her eyes as she smiled back.  

“What does that say about me, Ethan Winters?”

“Says even the scariest monsters I know are operating on fear,” he answered swiftly, and she laughed heartily.  

“Might I ask a favor of you?”

“Sure.” 

“Eva spoke to me of this…Godric.  We talked about a great many things.  But he intrigues me.  I would like to meet him.  I am finding the amount of men I want to interact with still firmly at zero-no offense, but I…have some questions for him.” 

“He’d love to meet you, I’m sure.” 

“Splendid.”  

The father stood, a flush across his cheeks from the wine.  He turned toward the door.  “Guess I better go try not to…black out and turn into a villain,” he muttered, and she stood with a sweeping gesture, moving toward the door.  

“I may be able to provide assistance with that, but let us wait until after sleep.” 

“Sure, Karl got out the tire iron and the cattle prod in case I act up again,” he joked, and shuffled toward the doorway.  

He was out of the door, and leaving, when she said hesitantly, “Ethan.” 

He paused and turned back, his eyes bleary from the difficult day.  

“You have been…….surprising.” 

“You too.”  He smiled fully.  “G’nite, Lady D.” 

“Good night.” 

[afr0-thunder]

[Poor Chronicles Pt. 39]

Topics: Weed/HORNDAWG/[Bad Questions]/Dietary Habits/Photography/2nd Phone/Budgeting/Rational Questions/Happy (fuck you!) Holidays!

*$250. Done with weed purchases. Not only for the year, but for the foreseeable future. I can’t keep wasting my money on this. Last few servings have been horrible. I ran into my dealer again. It’s better, but here he goes again with some of this rashy throat. I believed the guy before this was going to be better, but he was not very good either. I’ve had “worse”. It’s all good, but then I met Betty. What does that mean? I. Don’t. Know. Yes I do. It means it’s all good until you want to see another planet or another world or another idea you’ve been looking for. It’s all good until you’re walking around town looking for who has(who’s) got the best stuff. (It’s you!). Now you want a higher “FIX”, but you can’t try crack (rock) or meth, so what do you do?

[May revisit. “Prophecy”, not personally though. Quest. “Where is the gas?”]

I don’t want to “make love” or “have sex”. I obviously want to FUCK. With Horndawg, I want to have somewhere between fucking and having sex, almost as if we were making love (…although it’s just fucking). I want to make it seem like what we have is better than those losers who want the fame and fortune and don’t want to work for it. Also, those who are just together for the sake of a name and a chance at losing the feeling of emptiness.

[Do people actually want to spend eternity together (marriage) or do they just not know how to break the ice for separation?

If being alone didn’t exist, would you still stay?]

I may be done with food (snacks) for the time being. Although, if not, I will be adjusting my potato chip diet to mostly just (or all) flamin’ hot fries. I didn’t know how I would afford this new lifestyle, but it seems a way has been made.

I got around to those pictures. My photography skills are improving. I cracked my phone without service’s screen. I was thinking of replacing it (AGAIN), although it is only a small portion of the screen cracked, but I had just replaced the entire thing (from a worse crack) almost a year ago, today. Could my photography, the phone or location be cursed? I presume the phone. Nonetheless, I do not deem this occasion as necessary for a screen repair.

I keep sensing there is something I could spend my money on, but I’m running out of ideas. I assume it will just never come to me.

I’m getting, “What if the person you want to be with is 5 or more years younger than you?”. I would have to say not everything is meant to align with what you view as “normal”, but it also doesn’t have to be too far off from what you perceive to make sense.

Another Christmas with no gifts (not that I care) and no daughter’s titties in my face. So if you didn’t have either for me this year. Fuck you! (kidding)

Some things might be spilling my mind, but that’s okay.

- MH (2023)

[12/25/2023 - 2:18PM] - Christmas Day 2023

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Hey darling ❤️ love your writing 3000 :) can u do one with Bucky x reader (they’re together) where he overhears the reader on the phone with her parents that are emotionally & verbally abusive towards her (they always have been) and the reader has to explain it all to him afterwards even tho she’s having a panic attack (bc she’s afraid bucky will leave her since she has no one else to go to ??) and bucky comforts her and reassures her that he’s gonna be there for her and like comfort fluff? I live in an emotionally abusive and manipulative household rn and I tell you your fics are like an escape for me. Even if u don’t do this thank you from the bottom of my heart :)

Hey there, I love you 3000 ❤ I am so so sorry to hear about your situation, and while I'm glad to hear that my writing is an escape for you, I want you to know that I'm here for you. No one should have to go through what you described. I hope that this can bring you some comfort but please, I encourage you to reach out to someone who can help you. My DM's are open as well, you shouldn't face this alone. I'm here for you!!!

You owe them nothing

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3200 (ish)

Warnings: emotional abuse/gaslighting, manipulation, parent issues, tears, angst, breakdown, fluff.

---------

You really tried to keep it hidden. It wasn’t something that everyone needed to know about.

Your parents loved you, at least that’s what they had said. But it was one of those things where you felt like it was for show - the kindness that they showed when you were around others faded away once you were alone with them.

You remember once they had said “of course I love you, I’m your parent!”

But that made you wonder how they would treat you if you weren’t theirs.

They were horrible to you for as long as you could remember. Gaslighting you and making you feel like you owed them something even though they were the ones who should have taken care of you.

They were around but never…there. They would be there for family dinners but they were always riddled with criticisms of grades and who you were talking to and how you dressed. All of your hobbies were seen as a waste of time, something you should only do when you had nothing else to do. School came first, naturally, but there was always something they told you you had to do before you could do anything for yourself.

Yet when you would complain about being depressed, they told you to get a hobby because you never do anything.

Tired meant lazy, energetic and passionate meant loud and annoying. When you were quiet they thought you had nothing to say, yet when you expressed your opinions you were told to shut up.

You couldn’t win.

You could never make them happy, there was always something you were doing wrong.

They thought it was their right to monitor who you talked to and saw, what you did outside of school, what sports you could join. When you would say no to the school dances or parties you would make up an excuse about not wanting to go or having work to do. Your friends would call you a buzz kill. Little did they know you would give anything to go.

Whenever you would do something wrong (or anything, period,), your parents would yell at you. They would curse you out, make you cry, only to yell at you for crying like a little bitch.

The older you got, the worse it was.

You thought when you moved out it would be better. But you had all these years of being told you were worthless and having them be your providers. When you got your own place you didn’t really have any friends, nor did you really know how to make friends. You had a job to help you get by, you could support yourself. That wasn’t the issue. You could support yourself, you always had to.

It was that you were so lonely.

You wanted friends but you were so afraid of the criticism you would get. You were afraid to make yourself known, because you were always taught that being told what to do and taught what to think was much more appealing than having your opinion.

But this was an opinionated world.

You were good at what you did, so good that you had gotten a job at S.H.I.E.L.D. You thought that would make you happy, more importantly that it would make your parents happy, but no such luck.

“I got a really great job, guys.”

“Fantastic. I guess you’re just doing so great without us,” they had snapped.

“What? I mean… this is what you wanted right? For me to get a good job?” you had said, confused.

You heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Of course we do, what are you crazy about? Of course we wanted you to get a good job but you just deserted us like we were trash. Have we done nothing for you?”

You felt your heart sink in your stomach. ‘Of course you guys have, I love -”

“Don’t say what you don’t mean. If you really cared about us you’d be helping us out. You got a great job and probably have a huge paycheck that you hoard and you left us here to struggle to make ends meet.”

You took the phone away from your face temporarily to take a shaky breath. Of course they would go there with the salary, why wouldn’t they? All of your paychecks had gone to them, since it was their house and they were feeding you, leaving you with barely enough money for your car and gas and phone bills, only for them to suggest longer hours when you complained.

“I can help you guys out if you need,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

You heard an exasperated sigh on the other line again. “You really should be more grateful, you know? We raised you your entire life and then you leave us alone? You never even call us? You’re so fucking selfish.”

Then the line went dead.

You shook your head and felt tears in your eyes as you spoke to yourself. “Well maybe I would call you if it didn’t always yell at me.”

Of course, you would never say that.

See, it wasn’t so bad. You never said anything because they were only ever mean to you, which would make you uncomfortable. There were people out there that would get hit or who would have to raise themselves from a young age. Once you grew thick skin it wasn’t so bad, you were just being dramatic.

Right?

Your new job was fairly successful, you were fantastic at what you did. You did a lot of behind the scenes work, weapon repair and plans of action with missions. Not that they needed much help with that. Still, they took you in as their friends.

Well, as close as you would let them get to as friends.

It took a while before you warmed up to them. Everyone tended to keep to themselves, but not as much as you. You kept the parts of you hidden away - you were there for a job, you did it, and you did it well. You knew how to do your job but interacting with the team, making friends - you didn’t want to get emotionally attached.

Not like you knew how to make friends to begin with.

Naturally you were drawn to the quieter side of the team, once you were able to open up. They were all nice but sometimes the parties and the jokes were a bit much. You just didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing that would make you the punchline.

No one needed to know about you, or how you would spend your free time being yelled at through a phone with you trying to make it better. That wasn’t part of the job, so you shouldn’t bring it up.

It wasn’t like anyone would want to help. You were just a nuisance to everyone around you.

Right?

No one talked about their life before the team much. Not many people on the team had a great life before the Avengers first came together. Natasha or Wanda had once spoken about how this team was a family. And as much as you wanted to believe it, you helped the team. You weren’t a part of the team. So even if that were true, it didn’t include you.

At least, that was your point of view.

The team viewed you as a part of the team as much as any of them. You didn’t fight with them but you made sure everything would go as smoothly. You were kind and great at what you did, but they wished you would open up more. Of course, being a team of people who had trouble opening up, they understood.

Bucky was one of the ones who took a liking to you, mostly because he saw a lot of himself in you. He could tell there was something that you were trying to get past but weren’t quite able to yet. That there was something bothering but you wouldn’t dare say it for fear of bothering someone. You threw yourself into projects and distractions and from the way you carried yourself, he guessed you were avoiding something that you weren’t ready to work through. At least, not yet.

He knew that feeling too well.

The ex-assassin was one of the easiest for you to open up to because he didn’t expect much from interactions. Both of you were quiet and kept to yourselves that there wasn’t much pressure to share anything or say anything. You knew his past but would never bring it up unless he wanted to. Which eventually, he did. You could tell he felt pressure to be who he was before HYDRA took him, and while Steve was surprised he opened up to you first, you weren’t. Steve knew Bucky before everything, and you didn’t have that bias. He was whoever he was today regardless of who he was yesterday.

And Bucky found comfort in that.

You think you would’ve too, if you thought you deserved it enough to do the same.

See, you were worried that you were making everything worse than it really was. You worried that maybe you were being too sensitive or that what you had grown up with was normal. With everything that everyone on the team went through, a few insults from your parents was hardly anything. You were being dramatic.

There was nothing to be sad or angry about. You just had to get over yourself.

Right?

You were getting by until one night when your parents called, as they did on occasion. You were in the middle of working, so you ignored it. The phone went to voicemail before it started ringing again, and you ignored it, again. The third time you sighed and picked up your phone, turning away from your work.

You took a deep breath before you answered. “Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You closed your eyes and brought a hand to rub your head. “Well I’m doing fine, thank you, how are you?”

“Don’t give me that attitude. What the fuck are you doing? You’ve been ignoring our calls.”

You stood up to pace the floor slightly, dreading the conversation that was coming. Is it the ‘family is most important’ or the ‘where’s my money?’ speech today? “I’ve been working.”

“What, so work is more important than family now? Is that what this is? You don’t care about us?”

Family speech it is.

“Dad -”

“What if one of us was dying? Huh? Would that be important?”

“Stop it. No one is dying, and I was working. And I have more work to do, so I really have to go.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, I’m your father.”

Gaining confidence you gritted your teeth and snapped, “You know what? I’m an adult now so you can’t tell me what to do.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and you could practically hear the steam coming out of your father’s ears.

At some point Bucky had come down to your working space to check on you, seeing as it was nearly morning. He stopped in the doorway, and seeing you were busy on the phone he thought he would stop by later to give you some privacy. But he stopped when he heard you snap.

You never snap.

“Who do you think you’re talking to you ungrateful little bitch?”

“I’m talking to the people who treated me like shit my entire life and ask me for money when you wouldn’t give me the time of day for 18 fucking years.”

Even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. But god did it feel good to say them.

“Are you fucking serious right now? We did nothing for you? What do you think we’ve been doing your whole life? We’ve done everything we did to help you be the best person you could be. You have that job now because of us and you have no right to speak to me that way.”

You chuckled darkly as you looked up at the ceiling, unaware of Bucky’s presence behind you. “My entire life all I’ve ever wanted to do was make you guys proud of me. But you know what? I’m fucking done. You hated me, gaslighted me, and made me hate myself almost as much if not more than you seemed to hate me.”

“I did no such thing you ungrateful -”

“You were supposed to love me and care for me, and all you did was take advantage of me. I’m not your child, I’m a paycheck. I don’t owe you anything because you gave me nothing. So you know what? FUCK. YOU.”

You hung up the phone and tossed it across the room, adrenaline taking over your body as you tried to stop shaking. Because a small part of you felt bad.

But fuck did that feel amazing.

You heard a throat clear behind you and you turned around to see Bucky, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?”

You nodded nervously, rubbing the sides of your arms. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, unconvincingly. “How much, uh...how much did you -

“Enough,” he said, pushing himself off of the door frame as he crossed over to you. “Who was that?”

“Bucky, don’t, it’s really fine. I just got a little worked up.”

“Y/n,” he started, looking at you with concern. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one.”

“You don’t get upset like that at no one,” he took your hands in his. “Y/n, you're shaking.”

It was then that you realized your hands were still shaking, trying to keep the anxiety of what happened at bay.

It’s going to be so much worse now.

I can never talk to them again.

Is that a good thing? Didn’t I want that?

Bucky could sense you getting lost in your head. “Sweetheart, tell me what happened, please. I want to help you.”

You pulled your hands away from his and crossed your arms. “You can’t help me because there’s nothing wrong, okay? I handled it, it’s over. Done. nothing to worry about.”

“Y/n -”

“No really, there’s nothing you can do, okay?”

“Will you at least let me try?”

You looked at him, adrenaline starting to drain from your system. This was Bucky, your Bucky, who had never done anything but love and support you. He had never done anything to hurt you.

But what if he left you too?

You took in a sharp breath and curled in on yourself, a scared look on your face. Bucky crossed back over to you, seeing a scared look on your face.

“Hey, hey, y/n? Can you look at me?”

You brought your eyes up to meet his, feeling your chest constricting as you tried to keep your breathing even. It wasn’t working.

“I - I’m sorry, you shouldn’t… I’m fine really I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for,” he pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head. “Let’s go sit down, okay?’

He led you over to your bed and you leaned forward, hands on your knees and head in your hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening, this - I’m sorry, it’s so stupid, I’m so stupid.”

Bucky rubbed a hand up and down your back, hushing you. “It’s not stupid. If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.” Bucky took a small breath. “Do you remember all of those times after nightmares and all those panic attacks you would walk me through? How I thought I was being stupid?”

“You weren’t being stupid”

“And neither are you.”

You took some more shaky breaths as tears kept falling down your face. “You’re okay. It’s alright, I’m right here.”

Bucky let you calm down, knowing you would talk about it if you wanted to. He wanted you to talk about it so he could help you (and hurt whoever upset you) but he wouldn’t force you into telling him anything you didn’t want to.

The two of you sat in the silence, Bucky looking at you with soft eyes as you kept your face hidden.

“I haven’t told you a goddamn thing about me. You ever wonder why?”

You looked over at Bucky, eyebrows creased with slight confusion.

“They said blood was supposed to be thicker than water. That family comes first, right? I spent my whole life listening to them and following them and being the perfect kid. I made myself into everything they wanted me to be. And it still wasn’t enough for them.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly. He hadn’t known his parents much before they died but he had always wanted to have more time. But he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that not everyone had good parents.

“You know, I remember thinking that once I made it they would be happy. That if I worked hard enough or went onto do great things that they would be proud of me. That’s all I ever wanted, you know?” you said, voice wavering as you let out a bitter laugh. “But it’s not, you know? Never is, never was, never will be. All they do is take and take and no matter how good I am they’re always gonna hate me because I can’t be perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, y/n.”

“Well that’s what they want me to be. I know I can’t be perfect so I know they’ll never be happy. That they’ll call me ungrateful and selfish for succeeding and for leaving them when they never wanted me to be there to begin with.” You felt tears spill over as you wiped them away. “And I’m ust so fucking done with being a disappointment to them and to everyone else.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you said softly, not really wanting to be more vulnerable.

Bucky, sensing this was a time he could push you, challenged you. “I think you do.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want anyone to see me the way they did. I thought what they said wasn’t true but...I just thought that maybe I was overreacting. Other people have it worse you know - some people have no parents or some have it so much worse. Mine just yell at me you know? Tell me everything’s my fault and that they wish they’d never had me. That I’m ungrateful for not being with them and that I owe them. I just...I heard that for the first 18 years of my life. I didn’t need any more of it.”

“y/n, that’s…” he swallowed, trying to contain his anger. “That’s not normal. No one should have to go through that. You can’t possibly think you're a bad person.”

Your shrug was enough to tell him that you did.

“Y/n, I don’t know who your parents think they are but you don’t owe them a damn thing. You may be related to them but you have no obligation to love your parents if they treat you like that. You have every right to be angry or to hate them. It doesn’t make you a bad person to be angry with someone who hurt you.”

“But they’re my family.”

“Well they didn’t treat you like it. You have us now, you don’t need them anymore. We’re your family. And we’re not gonna leave you.”

“They didn’t leave me Bucky, I left them.”

“You can’t leave someone who was never there for you.”

----------

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @buckys-blue-eyes @peggycarter-steverogers @broadwaybabe18 @buckfics @thatfangirl42 @abitgryffindorky @barnesplums @mardema @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @im-sick-of-failing @strawberrimae @sup--ernova

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[stratiotis-nth]

Ever since Cas came back and turned human, it would seem he’s stopped giving a shit about literally everything. When Dean noticed this new aspect of Cas’ colorful personality, he had made himself paranoid that Cas would suddenly start flirting with him on the regular now that his big confession was out in the open.

So while Dean was scared shitless, he was confusingly disappointed when Cas didn’t do that at all.

No. The first thing the ex-angel did after surviving another encounter with death was start a Shotgun war with Sam.

And no, not the bang bang kinda shotgun.

“Shotgun!” Cas practically bellowed down the corridor as the three of them were getting ready to get dinner.

“That’s not fair, Cas! I’m in the bathroom!” Sam complained through the closed door. Cas ignored him completely as he strode past and ducked into the passenger seat of the Impala. Dean, who had been desperately trying to stay out of this war, just gave Cas a sideways smile.

“Y’know, the rules are you can’t call shotgun until you actually see the car, Cas.” He told him, his lips tugging up in amusement and…just happiness that Cas was close.

“Until Sam demands to implement this rule, I will abuse his ignorance.” Cas replied, smiling softly. Once again, every time Cas won the passenger seat, Dean wanted to ask what was with his sudden obsession with it. It wasn’t like Cas hadn’t been stubborn enough to claim it before he became human. He wondered what changed, why Cas suddenly cared about seating arrangements. But, as he had been doing ever since they got Cas back (again), Dean bit his tongue. He didn’t want to overwhelm the newly human with the tsunami of questions he had.

Sam griped the entire way to the diner, grumbling about being squished even though Dean knew there was more than enough space. Cas sat next to Dean, watching the trees amble by with a serene, totally unaffected smile on his face. Pleased as a pickle. Dean was fighting his own internal battle between his burning questions and undying amusement at Sam’s plight.

At the diner, Cas sat next to Dean. That much was hardly anything new. The two just naturally gravitated towards each other, and after Dean caught himself drifting mindlessly towards Cas more times than he could count, he stopped giving him grief about personal space.

Cas’ thigh brushed up against his almost the entire meal. Dean pretended not to notice, but internally, he was melting into a puddle of bi panic.

In the parking lot, Sam was quick to call shotgun when Cas got distracted by their waitress catching up to him and giving him her phone number. Dean was too busy bristling and snapping at Cas to hurry up to even notice Sam was sitting next to him.

Cas sulked the entire ride home, the waitress’ number stuffed into one of his pockets. Dean tried not to think that maybe Cas was saving her number for another time.

On Saturday, it was Dean’s turn to go on a food run. Sam was busy working a ghoul case with Eileen, so when Cas wanted to come along there was no yelling match over the front. He ducked into the passenger seat and just about blinded Dean’s poor weak heart with a smile that crinkled his nose.

They fought over eggs for about twenty minutes in the diary aisle. Dean win by threatening to give Sam exclusive access to shotgun. Cas relented with a glower that could have smote demons if he still had his grace.

Eventually, Sam did implement the rule about only calling shotgun with the car in sight, and as the weeks went by and Dean’s silent journey is self realization unfolded, the war at escalated. Now, neither of them could call shotgun without all three of them being in sights of the car. It had gotten bad enough that Sam and Cas waited impatiently for Dean in the garage, staring expectantly for him to round the corner so they could have their yelling match.

Cas nearly blew Dean’s eardrums out, bellowing “SHOTGUN!” loud enough to drown out Sam. He angrily opened his mouth to argue when his phone started ringing.

“It’s Eileen.” He said, his back snapping straight and immediately answering the video call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Can you give me a ride?” Dean could hear Eileen’s voice over the tinny speakers. “My car broke down and the nearest shop is two hours away.”

“Where are you?”

“An hour away from you? It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Dean saw Sam’s face soften, the tension of worry falling away. He butted in, sticking his face in view of the camera so Eileen could read his lips.

“Just tow it here. I can patch your ride.” He said. “Sam can take the tow truck.”

“Are you sure?” Eileen asked.

“Course. ‘Sides, those guys won’t give you a fair price anyway.” Dean flapped his hand dismissively.

“Thanks, Dean.” Eileen beamed, and oh, Dean knew that smile. Mischievous and damnit, she had planned this from the start, hadn’t she? Just to get a free repair out of him. Dean squinted suspiciously at her, and Eileen just wiggled her eyebrows.

“Cas and I can pick up the curse box and meet you two back here in a few hours.” Dean said. He saw Cas immediately brighten, having secured the passenger seat.

Cas was looking particularly triumphant as they drove, his knees rocking back and forth in a content, mindless sort of way. Finally, Dean couldn’t hold back the question anymore.

He had done his work accepting the fact that he wasn’t as straight as he thought, that it wasn’t very heterosexual to stare at Cas’ lips or pop an awkward boner seeing him all cleaned up after Purgatory, or completely shutting down every time he died or getting all prickly when waitresses give him her phone number. He was gay for Cas, and he had just gotten around to accepting this. Cas said he loved him, right? so Dean shouldn’t be afraid or rejection or anything. Yeah, no he was terrified.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” He turned to him with that soft smile that Dean wanted all to himself.

“I gotta ask, man,” Dean chuckled a little awkwardly and kept his eyes firmly on the road. “Why are you so determined about sitting shotgun? You’ve never been before.”

“Ah.” Cas hummed, turning back to the road too. “I suppose now I have the freedom to pursue the things I want. Chuck is gone and my deal with the Empty is null in void. I have time to…focus my attentions on other things.”

“The things you want? What, you got a better view up here or something?”

“Well yes, the windshield does allow more viewing space.” Cas agreed. “But it’s not my main goal in doing all this.”

“Then…what is?”

“Dean.” Cas said in that ever patient, you’re-being-dumb-about-this voice. “I enjoy being up here because it allows me to be closer to you. You are the view I most admire, Dean. I’m always so helplessly drawn to you.”

Dean’s mouth had gone a little dry and his grip on the wheel was suddenly sweaty. The silence that fell was deafening. Cas didn’t even look concerned. He just sat there waiting the road as if he hadn’t just said something so…so…soft to Dean.

Helplessly drawn. Like Cas couldn’t bear being away from him. Like Dean was this perfect, magnetic thing that Cas was enchanted by, something worth having around.

With a jerk of the wheel, Dean was pulling over on the side of the empty highway in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He threw Baby into park before twisting around and staring at Cas.

He didn’t even look vaguely concerned, the fucker. He just gave Dean a patient look.

Dean opened his mouth, and closed it. Did it again, ready to tell Cas everything. Snapped his jaw shut.

Cas watched in cool amusement. Dean felt his cheeks get hot.

“Screw this.” He grumbled to himself, before lunging across the bench, grabbing Cas’ face with both hands, and kissing him square on the lips.

He felt Cas freeze for a moment, probably in total shock, before he started moving.

Dean nearly choked on a gasp as the chapped, warm lips started pushing and devouring, Cas was suddenly the one taking charge, shoving Dean back against his window as he clambered across the seats to get on top of him.

Twelve years of pent up emotions came crashing out in a sudden burst of unstoppable passion. And as soon as it started, it seemed to have stopped. They both were panting, Dean’s jeans were tight and his entire body screamed to have Cas against him again. But Cas had made to move away, putting space between him as he looked at Dean with wide eyes.

He didn’t get very far. Dean grabbed ahold of his jacket lapels and held on tight with an iron grip, keeping Cas hovering inches above him, basically sharing air.

“Wanna hear a secret?” He whispered between heavy breathes. Cas just blinked at him. “I’ve always rooted for you getting shotgun.”

Cas’ kiss swollen lips split into a dazzling smile, and he rewarded Dean with another intense make out session. When they pulled away, Dean found the words spilling out of his mouth.

“I love you too, Cas. You can have me. God, you have had me, for years you have. Can’t believe it took me so long, I’m sorry I made you think you couldn’t have me, I’m sorry it took me so long—“

Cas shut him up with another kiss, and Dean’s ramble faded into a helpless whimper that too was swallowed up by Cas.

“Does this mean I get exclusive shotgun privileges?” Cas asked a few hours later than they finally took the curse box off the poor shopkeeper’s hands. They had arrived nearly an hour late, not that Dean (or his dick for that matter) particularly cared.

“Honestly? Play it up to Sam and he might let you get away with it for a while.” Dean chuckled. Without even thinking too hard about it, his free hand slithered over the bench, grabbing Cas’ and entwining their fingers. Something so small and simple, yet made Dean light up like a sun.

If Cas didn’t manage to convince Sam, Dean sure as hell would.

[ghostking1]

I don’t really know what you’re into but I asked some of my other percico shipper friends and we made a list of some of our favs :)

•|| Five Times Percy Broke His Phone and The One Time It Wasn't His Fault ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29524128

• Percy/Nico

• Rated G

• one-shot

• Words: 5,726

Summary:

As punishment for blowing up the Legions armory Leo is sentenced to work in phone repair for the camps. Normally this wouldn't be too bad, phones these days are pretty bulletproof. Unfortunately, he hasn't thought of the extraordinary circumstances Poseidon’s favored son tends to regularly find himself in. This is one battle the Son of Hephaestus is determined to win. Olympus helped him.

•|| Breaking the Ice ||•

https://www.deviantart.com/leukanthes/art/Breaking-the-Ice-Slash-287857101

• Percy/Nico

• no rating, but I guess G bordering T (?)

• one-shot

• Words: 2,574

[No Summary]

•|| Could Never Imagine ||•

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10703658/1/Could-Never-Imagine

• Nico/Percy

• Rating: T

• 46 chapters

• Words: 103k+

Summary: The war is over Annabeth chose to leave camp to allow her soul to heal, leaving a distraught Percy behind. Soon enough though the girls at camp are coming-on to the twice savior of Olympus. Percy however has no intention of finding a new girlfriend. So how will he get them to leave him be? It's a good thing Nico is around.

•|| Family Dinner ||•

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5439187/1/Family-Dinner

• Nico/Percy

• Rating: T

• one-shot/1 chapter

• Words: 6k+

Summary: The fancy invite card read: Welcome to our new home! Please join Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo's housewarming dinner. Please do not feel the need to bring anything. Dinner begins at 6:00pm. The address is 38501 Sunshine Lane, Long Island.

•|| Can I Clear My Conscience? ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1250188

• Nico/Percy

• Rating: T

• one shot/1 chapter

• Words: 12,222

Summary:

Death Touch: Nico’s powers have gone out of control and he’s killing living beings with a single touch. The only one who can save him is Percy.

•|| Revival ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287157/chapters/45872164

• Nico/Percy

• Rating: Explicit

• 4 chapters (complete)

• Words: 28,903

Summary:

After the events of The Titan's Curse Nico finds himself struggling to live on the streets. Exhausted, he recklessly uses his powers to take him somewhere safe. He ends up in an unfamiliar cabin and too weak to do anything else he decides to spend the night.

Percy still feels guilty about Bianca's death. He searched and searched for Nico but was unable to find him. Something is sending him visions of the boy though as if to tell him to go find him. At last Nico ends up in a familiar looking place and Percy seeks him out. What follows is something neither of them expected.

•|| on top of the world ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184790

• Nico/Percy

• Rating: T

• one-shot/1 chapter

• Words: 16,175

Summary:

In which Gaea wins and Percy breaks another promise to Nico, and surprisingly, Nico doesn't mind.

•|| The world will never take my heart ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712186/chapters/3646085#workskin

Summary:

where Percy and Annabeth break up, and Percy convinces Nico to move in with him and attend Goode

•|| Sensory Love ||•

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12454985/1/Hitome-Chan-s-Sensory-Love

•Rating: M

•words: 237+

Summary:

Mortal AU where Percy and Nico are best friends, but Nico’s feelings run deeper than that.

•|| Coding and Codeine ||•

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12457018/1/Hitome-Chan-s-Coding-And-Codeine

Summary:

post apocalypse mortal AU where Nico meets Percy in a near dead world, and the two travel the US and fall in love

•|| Seasons Change ||•

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/7838989/1/

Summary:

Mortal AU where in Nico and Percy were friends since they were little, but they had a falling out. Nico never recovered from Percy's rejection and neither did Percy. Through a twist of fate, they get a second chance

•|| The love we miss ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087406

Summary:

Canon divergent fic where Annabeth is killed during the days following the second war

•|| World Traverls ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649647

Summary:

a series of amazing fics by awanderingmuse which follow an older Percy and Nico

•|| Kiss a boy in Tokyo town ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/337259

Summary:

Japan becomes the new location for camp half blood after the fall of the United States.Nico comes to visit percy in Japan

while annabeth is still in the US and things transpire

•|| Tribulations ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061345

Summary:

Percy and Nico are caught in an argument between two goddesses and are put to the test. They must prove the strength of their bond to survive or lose their freedom forever.

•ll When the river meets the sea ll•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171134

Summary:

Nico di Angelo should be his best friend. He looks over, meeting Nico’s eyes; Nico, who looks patient and a little embarrassed for some reason, and he thinks, why isn’t he?

Or: Wherein Nico has an incurable case of being a martyr, Percy grows to hate The Muppets, and Poseidon surprises the both of them with a bouncing baby demigod.

•|| Fire escapes and friendships ||•

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17810015/chapters/42019895

Summary:

“So it’s safe to assume you’re the reason she’s stalking around like she’s just sucked a bag of lemons.”

“She called me today.”

“And?”

“She just wanted to chew my ear off. You know, for ruining all her hard work and design for your cabin. And then for suggesting to Chiron that she shouldn’t be allowed to help with the refurbishment.”

Or where Percy and Nico burn the injustice that is the Hades cabin and Percy takes the blame.

Christmas parties, confessions and cozy death traps

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748753/chapters/67921453

Summary:

Ah, Christmas! That magical time of year where goodwill permeates the air, gifts are exchanged, and demigods question if they'll be smote down for singing the less secular Christmas carols! But as Nico will soon find out there are far more nefarious threats than carols this joyous time of year, a threat, in the form of an ugly Christmas sweater.

||• percico authors to support ||•

Likegallows

https://archiveofourown.org/users/likegallows/pseuds/likegallows

Bobinthecomments

https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobInTheComments/pseuds/BobInTheComments

Awanderingmuse

https://archiveofourown.org/users/awanderingmuse/pseuds/awanderingmuse

Midnightinjapan

https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightinJapan

anitstar_e(Kailamahine)

https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaikamahine/pseuds/antistar_e

Let me know if you need more~ :)

First of all, thank you so much for these pics. All of these were disgustingly good, like extremely disgustingly good, and I enjoyed them all immensely. But, I figured you'd want to hear my thoughts on them, and because I wanted to share my thoughts on them, so here they are :D

•|| Five Times Percy Broke His Phone and The One Time It Wasn't His Fault ||• -Amazing, a 10/10, one of my favorites, short enough that my attention span never got me distracted, great writing

•|| Breaking the Ice ||• -Another great one, this one blew me away

•|| Could Never Imagine ||• -I loved this one because it showed all of Nico's insecurities

•|| Family Dinner ||• -sooooo cute

•|| Can I Clear My Conscience? ||• -this one was kind of sad but a great healing fic

•|| Revival ||• -showed the Nico living on the streets that we never saw, very well done

•|| on top of the world ||• -dangerous situation where all hope is lost and they can only lean on one another? sign me up

•|| The world will never take my heart ||• -this was a fun fic to read

•|| Sensory Love ||• -this was pretty good, but it had cheating themes which made it hard for me to absolutely adore

•|| Coding and Codeine ||• -loved this au

•|| Seasons Change ||• -this one was a little harder to swallow, it had mature themes in it and there was cheating involved, and I always have a harder time with that

•|| The love we miss ||• -*chef's kiss*

•|| World Traverls ||• -so cute, i love this au, it’s like that could actually happen in the canon book series

•|| Kiss a boy in Tokyo town ||• -percy jackson + japan? yes please

•|| Tribulations ||• -love, love, love, love, loved it

•ll When the river meets the sea ll• -a work of art

•|| Fire escapes and friendships ||• -I really like the change in pov, this fic was really well done

•|| Christmas parties, confessions and cozy death traps ||• -loved embarrassed Nico and the creepy ending

And all the authors you recommended are great! :D

Thank you so much for all your recommendations, they were really fun to read!

[chrisbitchtree]

Billy and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Billy was having a bad day. Not just any bad day either, but the mother of all bad days. A terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, in fact. It had all started as he got out of bed that morning. He tripped on one of Steve’s weights that he’d left sitting on the bedroom floor and stubbed his toe. Billy had asked him to put them away a million times, saying one of them would hurt themselves eventually, but they were still sitting there, and of course Billy was now the one hopping around in pain.

After cursing up a storm at Steve, who wasn’t even there, having left for work a couple hours earlier, he went to eat breakfast, only to remember that there was no milk or eggs. That one he couldn’t blame on Steve. Billy had said he’d pick a few groceries up on the way home the night before, but he’d stayed late, putting in some overtime at the garage he worked at, and by the time he’d headed home, he’d completely forgotten.

After a breakfast of dry cereal and water, and a fruitless attempt to stop the weird thing that one of the curls right in the front of his hair was doing, he headed out to work, only for his bad luck to continue. There was traffic built up behind a car accident, and when he finally got to work, 20 minutes late, he realized that he’d forgotten his coveralls, and his spare pair, at home. He had to borrow a pair from Mike, the owner, who was about twice Billy’s size, so he kept having to push up the sleeves.

He couldn’t get the first car he worked on to cooperate with him, he’d forgotten to pack one of Steve’s homemade chocolate chip cookies for his lunch, he broke his favourite wrench, and banged his thumb up in the process. The repairs for the second vehicle he worked on, a pickup truck, were going to be more expensive and extensive than they’d originally quoted the owner of truck, and Billy got chewed out by the customer for it.

It seemed like nothing could go his way, no matter how many calming breaths he took, or pep talks he gave himself. He and Steve were supposed to go out for a late dinner to celebrate a promotion Steve had recently gotten at work, but Billy ended up having to stay late again to work on the pickup, and when he tried to call Steve and tell him that he wouldn’t be home on time and Steve would have to eat alone, he repeatedly got a busy signal.

Finally, two hours after the shop officially closed for the night, and three hours after he was supposed to be done for the day, Billy headed home. All he could think about was seeing Steve, even if he was annoyed that he’d left the weights on the floor and the fact that he was chatting up a storm with someone on the phone, leaving Billy unable to reach him. He knew that seeing his pretty boy would make everything right in the world.

What he walked into when he got home was not a happy sight. Steve was sitting on the couch, face red with anger, in his best going outfit. He looked ready to tear into Billy. He took one look at Billy’s face, the mix of sadness and frustration, and thankfully, all the fight seemed to drain out of him. He walked over to Billy and wrapped him in a hug for a long minute, before leading him to the couch and asking him what happened. Billy explained the mishaps of the day to him as Steve rubbed small circles on his back, helping to finally ease the tension from his body.

It felt good to get it all out after keeping everything pent up inside him all day, to be comforted instead of told to suck it up, like his father would have told him to, years ago. He felt lighter than he had since he’d woken up. Both boys even managed to have a good laugh when Billy asked who Steve had been on the phone with when he got the busy signal so many times, only for them to discover that their cat, Felix, had knocked it off the hook.

Steve heated them up some leftover spaghetti and poured them each a glass of wine, and they curled up together under a throw blanket and watched The Tonight Show. Billy felt so loved. Tomorrow would be another, better day, and tonight, he had his couch, Johnny Carson, and the love of his life. He would be ok.